I was walking to the schools library, trying to shake off my lack-of-caffeine-yep-im-dying headache, when I see some dude jump up, at least 2 feet off the ground, and smack one of the glowing exit signs. The thing immediately broke, and he just bolted. I swear, it was the funniest thing I’d seen in ages, but at the time, all my broken mind could do was go into the nearby classroom, and say “Hey, the exit signs dangling, man.”
Synopsis: The reader works as a bartender, but she misses someone terribly… Characters: Sam x Reader, Dean (mentioned - bc i can’t deal w/o him.) Words: 1237 Warnings: zero plot, gross drunk ppl, this could be called fluff??? Prompt: “Stop trying to hit on me you douchebag. We’re already married.”
Tags: If you want to be tagged in anything, ask me!
Throw me another beer would ya?” The gross drunk at the end of the bar shouted
at you for the third time that night. You were half way through cleaning a
glass when his slurred words reached you. During your career as a bartender, you had learned how to deal with drunks. Especially
those that seemed to lose their minds after one too many drinks. They would
take one look at the tight jeans you wore and suddenly think they owned you.
But you always handled it – too many people left the bar with bloodied noses
and alcohol-stained clothing.
You took a drink from underneath the bar, dangling it over
the man’s head as he reached for it eagerly. “You call me sweetheart again and
the beer gets thrown over your big head, understand?”
The guys surrounding the drunk erupted, slapping him on the
back and calling him a loser or some other worthless name. You winked, hoping
that taught them all a lesson before you
turned back to the dirty glasses you were attending to.
People around you seemed to be talking amongst themselves
and sharing drinks. They were all laughing and smiling, while you simply took
people’s orders and brought them drinks. You started to clean the glasses,
looking between the front door and the clock as you worked, waiting for someone
special to walk through those doors. You were just about to start cleaning
another glass when a familiar voice
startled you from behind. The glass almost slipped from your hand, but you
caught it rather quickly.
Tears blind your eyes as you watch his chest rise and fall, oxygen entering his body with the assistance of a machine. For a man whose body is manipulated to be strong and agile at the zenith of human potential, he looks frail and weak lying on the hospital bed with all of the needles poking into him.
“BUCKY, PLEASE!” you screamed, voice laced in pain. You latched yourself onto the ledge, hoping that pushing off the small concrete wall would give you more support. Panicked adrenaline pumped through your body as you grabbed Bucky’s hand with all of the strength you could muster.
Bucky looked up, a sad calmness reflecting in his eyes. It was scary he didn’t look like a man who’s dangling off the edge of a tall building. It was as if he was ready for the imminent conclusion of his life. His eyes were tired, a result of the wary defeat that had emotionally pounded him into pieces. Somehow he mustered up a small smile.
You fiddle with the simple band on your left finger, distracting yourself from the tears fighting to stream down your cheek. Leaning your side against the glass window, you take another systematically deep breath, your ribcage hurting as you force yourself to inhale and exhale.
Sweat beaded on your forehead as you pleaded for him to keep hanging on. “Place your foot on that structure and swing your body over! I’ll pull you over and - Oh God, please Bucky! Please don’t give up now!”
“Doll, just let go,” Bucky exclaimed. “I don’t belong here and -”
Blood rushed through your ears and your eyes darkened with desperate anger. “Don’t let go! Please don’t let go! I am begging you!”
A strong gust of wind blew by and you screamed as Bucky’s body visibly sways. “BUCKY!”
So I guess I’ll start this off with some fanart - why not right? I love @thepenumbrapodcast and the Hyperion City storyline, so decided to draw my head canon of Peter. He’s one of my favorite characters and the first I thought to draw, so here he is in all of his dangle earring glory
Fandom: Once Upon A Time Pairing: Killian Jones X Siren!Reader Word Count: 780 (AGAIN IT’S SO SHORT I’M SO SORRY) Prompt Given: Maybe Hook goes for a walk and finds Reader on the beach singing or something… Author’s Note: Not really super romantic, just kind of hints toward a relationship in the future.
You sang softly to yourself, using both hands to drag the comb, something you had been lucky enough to find after a traveling princess dropped it into the sea, through your __h/c__ hair. It was full of tangles, and you started at the tips of your drenched hair before working your way up to the roots.
You were so entranced in what you were doing, brushes were truly magnificent inventions, that you didn’t hear the sound of boots slapping against the sand until they were only mere feet away from you. You had stopped singing, thankfully, but you couldn’t move from your spot on the rock without alerting the man to your whereabouts.
Contrary to popular belief, sirens main goal in life was not to lure sailors to their deaths. Sirens just liked to sing, and it was certainly not your fault that some men got so incredibly distracted by your singing that they crashed (though every time that happened, you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty as it had definitely not been intentional).
But here, on land, you were fairly defenseless. And by the sword dangling at the man's waist, he was not. The man, a pirate, by the look of his attire, cocked his head to the side as if he was listening to something. Your breath caught in your throat as the man turned his head in your direction, and you hoped that the branches hanging down in front of you would keep you hidden.
You realized, as the man’s eyes locked with yours and a slow smirk spread across his face, that they did not.
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing.” The man said, and you noted that his voice deep and smooth like the sea. He stepped a little closer to you and frowned when you scrambled as far away from him as you could manage. The rock you were on wasn’t exactly large enough for that, and you started to slip off. The man rolled his eyes as he caught you easily, his arms adjusting to carry the sudden weight. “What on Earth was that for?”
You shrugged and tried to get out of the man’s hold, but his arms just tightened underneath your tail.
“Would you please stop wiggling? I’m not going to harm you.” The man muttered and sighed when you continued to struggle. He gently placed you back down on your rock before raising an eyebrow at you. “You have got to be the oddest mermaid I’ve ever met. They’re usually fighting for my attention.”
You shook your head without realizing it. “Not a mermaid. Siren. Big difference.”
His raised eyebrow arched higher. “Really? What’s the difference?”
You smiled, much to his surprise. “We have better voices.”
“You do?” You nodded, and the man grinned. “Prove it then.”
You did as he asked, singing a lullaby that your mother had taught you in a clear, but soft, voice. The man’s eyes drifted out of focus as you sang, and you could tell that he was slipping under your spell. You cut off the song after another a moment, and the man blinked in surprise as he realized what just happened.
“Definitely better than mermaids.” The man conceded, and your red lips curved into a surprisingly bashful smile. “I’m Killian, by the way. Killian Jones.” He held out a hand for you to shake, the only hand he possessed as the other ended in a sharp, shiny hook, and you did so after a moment of staring at the glinting metal hesitantly.
Killian smiled at you. “A lovely name for a lovely lass.” A beat of silence passed during which you studied each other before Killian spoke again. “Would you be interested in a partnership?”
You quirked an eyebrow at him. “A partnership in what?”
A dangerous light flickered in Killian’s eyes. “Revenge.”
You deliberated in silence, your eyes flicking over the man that stood in front of you. “What would I get out of helping you?”
The pirate grinned wolfishly, leaning forwards so that his lips just barely brushed against your ear. “Anything you want.”
You shivered as he pulled away and extended out a hand for him to shake. “Deal.”
Killian scooped you into his arms and walked you over to the ocean, gently dropping you in before pointing to a ship that was tethered to the harbor. “Meet me there tonight at dusk. I’ll introduce you to my crew, and we can discuss the details of this partnership a little more…intimately.”
You nodded once before diving into the water, and Killian smirked as you swam away. The Dark One wouldn’t know what hit him.
Top to bottom: The Great McGinty (1940), Sullivan’s Travels (1941), & The Lady Eve (1941)
Here and there, in every Sturges comedy, you’ll find some personality or character or object that clearly belongs to another world outside the film: a member of the film crew, a suicide from some tragedy, some spectator staring at the stars from a distance, a poster from one of Sturges’ former films (Miracle at the train station in Hail the Conquering Hero) or from some other contemporary picture. One of the midnight movies Eddie Bracken watches in Miracle is Are Husbands Necessary? from 1942. Sturges’ original title for The Palm Beach Story was Is Marriage Necessary? – and Fonda’s character in Eve, as the film opens, is engrossed in a book with the pitch-perfect title Are Snakes Necessary?
Here are three of my favorites. The sandwich chomper in McGinty, oblivious to the world and holding some metal rod in his hand. The hanged man dangling from a tree-limb in Sullivan’s Travels – only the viewer sees him. And this heavyset guy in Eve who marches across the stage twice in this scene, first one way, and then the other, holding a broom like a musket over his left shoulder. What’s he doing?
Eeeeeh, just watched Episode 1 of Season 2 and saw the ending... Even though I know what's going on, I don't know if it's necessarily appropriate for the (young) person I'm watching it with... Especially if they decide to start reading the manga, with what goes on much later in the series... *Cough* basement chapters onward *cough*
To be fair, the series is rated 16+ for a pretty good reason: the concept of people being ripped apart and eaten alive by huge terrible beasts is pretty terrible.
In my not-so-humble opinion, I think the 16+ rating is more than appropriate. Some kids might be all right if they’re younger, but there’s some pretty damn gruesome stuff in it. The basement chapters aren’t, imo, any worse than the deaths we’ve seen in this series. Mike’s death is notoriously bad, but so is Hannes’s (his spinal cord is just fucking dangling there man), not to mention the fact that Nanaba’s femur is snapped off (do you know what kind of a force that takes? And also this is rated as the most painful thing to endure so think about how that’s gonna be when it’s animated) in her death scene.
I wouldn’t even say the series is rated 16+ just for the blood and violence and gore. It deals with some themes that are … pretty complex and not something even many adults can wrap their heads around properly, so I dunno.
I mean, I don’t know how young this person is, but if they’re younger’n mid-teens I’d say this series probably isn’t really appropriate for them. And with good reason. But if they’re allowed to watch it and/or they personally have no issue with it? I don’t see a problem.
Summary: After breaking up with your boyfriend, you find yourself struggling to move on. But how can you, when both your lives are so intertwined? When a new captivating man enters your life, are the changes ahead for the better or worse?
Word Count: 4k+
Rated: M (Smut, Angst)
You moaned into the kiss as your hands raked through Jiho’s hair. He felt you smiling into the kiss as his hands slipped under your top, caressing your breast. Tugging at his hair, you rolled your hips into his lap, feeling his bulge press up against you through his jeans.
A day had only passed since the two of you had come to this arrangement. Originally, you were only supposed to meet up at a local coffee shop this morning to learn more about one another. Since you really only knew each other’s names and how each of you tasted. Then as you were both finished with breakfast and leaving, both of you just happened to walk by a hotel along the way…
Imagine Steve has to go help Natasha after General Ross starts coming for her
into the coffee shop, she glanced at the display of perfectly placed
donuts and realized it was a trap a half second too late. Behind her,
the lock on the glass door clicked closed. Without turning, she mule
kicked the man in the groin. He fell instantly. Four men at a table
stood as one, pulling stun batons from under their puffy coats.
Before she could engage, the glass door shattered as a black metal
disk hurled though. It hit two men, knocking them out cold.
flash grenade went off with a bang. When her vision cleared, a half
dozen hostiles lay unconscious on the floor. Turning a circle, she
realized the battle looked like it was over. Steve ginned at her from
behind the counter and dropped an unconscious man onto the floor.
Rummaging around, he found his black shield under the overturned
table. Natasha leaned over and grabbed a donut.
she said, gesturing at the shield.
like it?” he said with a big smile. “They made it in Wakanda.”
they stepped into the street, a police man was dangling in a tree. He
thumped to the ground like an overripe fruit. Stumbling to his feet,
the policeman pulled his firearm. Steve turned and looked him
straight in the eye.
the man’s eyes went wide, and he paused. Steve said “It’s okay
son, just let us pass.”
sorry sir. She’s to be brought in. Secretary Ross’ direct
Ross is an embarrassment to the office he holds.” Steve growled.
officer glanced around at his fallen colleagues then holstered his
weapon. “I was in New York the day the aliens came. Took the kids
to see the Statue of Liberty…Thank You.” He extended his hand.
gave him a firm shake. As he stepped away, Natasha hit the officer
with a stunner and he went down like a stone.
Steve turned, “Was that necessary?”
you want him to have his job tomorrow, it was.” she shrugged.
bad Ross will still have his job tomorrow. I guess you’re on our
team now.” he said, and gave Sam a salute as he circled overhead.
I’m just getting into The Avengers and am hoping for some Bucky x reader fanfics? Maybe where the reader is new to the team and he isn’t too nice to them in the beginning and Tony comments about it and fluff?
I will do this while hoping the AC repairman shows up soon. Who knew 77 degrees could feel so awful!? Here is your one-shot, comin’ ‘atcha!
At this point, you had relegated yourself to the top of Stark Tower. Granted, you had the best view, along with a balcony that always had a breeze. But relegating yourself to a place usually meant you didn’t want to interact with those around you.
And this time was no different.
Happening upon them on a mission was purely by accident. You were having coffee at your favorite alleyway coffee shop, and as you were walking out you saw an enhanced individual doing some things he shouldn’t be doing to a very nice lady.
You listened to him threaten his life before you thrust out your hand, your eyes shining green as a vine protruded from the cement, impaling the man in much the same way he was probably imagining with the woman.
What you didn’t know was that the infamous Black Widow was walking out of the coffee shop just as you had thrust your hand out.
And so it began: the journey of you attempting to work out with the Avengers.
Or whatever they called their little group.
But they didn’t warm up to you as quickly as you might have thought.
Including the one with the metal arm.
In his defense, when you couldn’t remember his name you probably shouldn’t have called him “Chrome-tastic.”
But still. His cold shoulder, after chuckling various times at the pun to yourself, was getting to be a bit much. You had apologized furiously: attempting to cook him food, bake him desserts, attempting to apologize the old-fashioned way…
…but he just wasn’t interested.
Him and Steve, as you had come to find Cap’s name was, were good friends, and while he was on Chrome-ium’s side at first, soon you found him slowly slipping over to yours.
But you decided to give the apology one last shot.
Taking in a deep breath as you throw a hoodie on over your body, you strut downstairs in your dark brown leggings and your barely-there socks, searching out the metal-man himself as you slowly ascend each pair of stairs.
“You know you really could just take the elevators,” Tony said as he smirks at you before snapping his fingers and bopping his wrists.
“The exercise is nice,” you muse as your eyes scan the room for Bucky.
“And needed for some,” you hear Bucky’s voice emanate from a corner in the room.
A weight joke.
As Tony shoots you a taut look, his shoulders shrugging lightly as you turn your body towards the angered man, you slowly approach him as his eyes keep downcast at the piece of wood he is whittling.
“Bucky?” you ask, stopping a few feet away from him as you attempt to grab his attention.
But all he did was keep on shaving the pieces of wood away.
“Bucky…” you lull lightly, your shoulders slumping lightly as you let out a light sigh.
“Yes?” he says gravelly, not looking up from his project as your eyes dance across his shoulders.
You could see the edges of his scar peeking out from under his shirt.
And it gave you an idea.
“I have a scar like that,” you say, pointing to his shoulder as his eyes finally pan up to yours.
“Doubt it,” he says flatly.
“No, really,” you say, pulling off your hoodie as your baggy tank-top flutters around your stomach.
“See?” you state, turning around as you show Bucky the intertwined scars on your back, criss-crossing and wrapping in on themselves, the skin slightly raised and discolored.
It always reminded you of vines…
But when you turned back around, a light grin on your face, you were met with the dead stare of the Winter Soldier.
“You think these scars are worth showing off?” Bucky asks as he puts his project off to the side.
“N-…no. No no…that’s…that’s not what I meant to-”
“You think your scars are cute?” Bucky bites as he slowly stands to his feet, his eyes connecting heavily with yours as you clench your jaw.
“No,” you state firmly.
“I don’t want to see them anymore than I want to see mine,” Bucky murmurs lowly.
“And why not?” you ask.
If he wanted to fight, you would give it to him.
“Your scars mean you can grow neat little flowers out of your fingertips. My scars mean I killed people. Lots of people.”
“Did you apologize?” you sarcastically retort.
“I should be asking you that same question…” Bucky glowers.
Clenching your fists at your sides as Bucky begins to walk past you, he knocks up against your shoulder as you feel the rest of your measly resolve flow from the depths of your soul.
You were seeing nothing but green now.
Whirling around as you whip your hand out, you catch his arm as you rip him around.
But you hadn’t realized it was his metal arm.
“It was just a dumbass-”
Before you could finish your statement, you felt his metal arm grasp you around your neck, hoisting you up off of the ground as Tony already begins to mobilize his weird robot hand thing.
Thumping against the wall as pictures come crashing down around you, your arms begin to bleed from the scrapes and cuts as you thrust your arm out, a vine weilding from your palm as he wraps around Bucky, trapping his arm to his body, as it hoists him out beyond the balcony, his body dangling over the city as your entire body trembles with fear.
You weren’t going back to that life.
“Y/N!” Tony yells, trying to get your attention as he trains his hand onto you.
“He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand…” Tony drifts off as Natasha appears behind him.
“Does someone need to go set up a pillow bounce for Bucky?” she asks, half-jokingly…
…but half-serious as well…
What you didn’t realize is that Wanda had appeared behind you, waving one hand around your temple while thrusting the other out, covering a dangling Bucky in red joo-joo.
She was creating a mind-link.
“Wanda!” Tony yells as her eyes begin to turn red.
“They will never understand each other unless they know,” she says as your head lays back, Bucky’s body going limp as your vine automatically retracts his body back into the room.
You felt the tears coursing down your face as the images of Bucky’s kills flash across your memory, their last words searing themselves forever in your memory banks as the vine slowly unravels the dangling man, setting him on his feet as his chest begins to heave with panic.
Behind his own glowing eyes, with Wanda’s power still encircling him, he watches…helpless amongst the scenes…as you endure test after test.
Injection after injection.
Torture after torture…
It wasn’t until he watched your child-like figure scream out in horror as a man thrust his forearm into the back of your neck, bending you forward onto a table as he pins your head down…thrusting a needle into the base of your neck…that you yelled out just as Wanda’s spell broke for you both.
Breathing heavily, your chest heaving with your own sobs as the room slowly comes back into focus, your legs wobble before giving out underneath you, your body plummeting to the floor as your widened eyes dart around.
But it wasn’t before Bucky ran over and caught you, his strong arms cradling you in his lap as you lean into his frame, his metal arm that had thrown you into a wall only moments before now caressing your piping hot arm lightly in an attempt to cool it down as he tries to hold back his own tears from spilling forth.
Bucky was the first to break the silence.
“Y/N…?” he asks lowly in your ear.
“I’m sorry,” you breathe, taking in a rattling, shallow breath as your frightened eyes finally make their way up to his.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, your face crinkling up once more as Bucky’s arms tighten around you, pulling you ever-closer to him as he rests his cheek on the top of your head.
“And so am I,” Bucky whispers desperately, his tears finally falling silently upon his cheeks as his face turns red, his body slowly beginning to rock you side to side as you find yourself instinctively curling into him.
Into the coolness of his arm.
Into the strength of his hold.
Into the comfort of his body…
As the two of you sit there, in the middle of the disheveled room, Tony puts his hand in between Natasha’s shoulder blades as he leads both her and Wanda out of the room.
“Let’s give the two love-birds some time alone,” Tony quips.
“They are not in love,” Wanda says as she walks beside him.
“I don’t know. Looks like love to me,” Natasha says as she smirks up at Tony.
“You two would think that,” Wanda lulls.
“And what is thiat supposed to mean?” Tony asks.
“It’s her way of calling us dysfunctional,” Natasha chuckles.
“Oh. Well, thank you,” Tony snarks as the three of them continue down the hallway.
But little did they know that the two of you would stay like that for the rest of the afternoon, eventually migrating to the couch where the two of you would fall asleep in the safety of each other’s bodies.
After all, neither of you could do what had already been done to the other.
Discworld fic: On the care of watchmen: In Wolf’s Clothing
Aight, who asked me for the angsty Carrot/Angua fic? I can’t ever end on a sad note so it’s a bit more fluff-angsty-fluff, I hope that’s okay (whoever you were) <3
Summary: Angua comes home after
several hard days at work and to add insult the injury discovers she has
fleas. Carrot has decided to help her, seemingly whether she wants help
or not. (Ao3)
On the care of Watchmen: In Wolf’s Clothing
“You don’t have to do this, you know.” Angua commented, standing hesitantly in the entryway to their shared bedsit.
stooped over the hearth with the iron poker in hand, gave a gentle
shrug, his massive shoulders rolling easily. It was a hot day outside,
but he’d stoked the fire up until the room had the same consistency of a
sauna. “I know.”
“I mean you really don’t have to,
Carrot.” Angua tried again, a hint of desperation eking into her voice.
She tried not to think of it as a whine—she already felt like running
away with her tail between her legs. Literally.
“It’s no trouble,”
Carrot replied cheerfully, straightening up to retrieve the kettle from
the top of the cast iron stove before the gentle whistle of steam could
turn into a shriek, and gently pouring the contents into the bathtub
which had been pulled down from behind the door. Old towels were spread
out on the floor around it, and their kitchen table—their only table—had
been folded down and shunted against the wall to make room for the tub,
which was now full enough to lie down in comfortably. Or stand—if you
had four legs rather than two.
Request: Hi! Are you taking requests? If not feel free to ignore this! I was wanting to request one where Jared Leto Joker meets the reader, Who is in the Suicide squad and takes an interest in them and their fighting skills :) thank you! By Anonymous.
Word counts: 1,266
Warnings: SPOILERS SS, swearing, weapons, fighting (can be graphic), characters can be ooc (haven’t watch the movie).
You open the crate that is standing on the ground. You look at everything inside of it. God, you missed this stuff. You’re clothes, gun and knifes are all in it.
You start to put on the clothing. Black ripped pants, a white shirt saying ‘Cute Killer’ ,a leather jacket with on the back ‘Predator’ and some black sneakers. You grabb your gun and put it in your holster and grabb your knifes and put them in the knife holders on both of your thighs.
You look around you, you see some of the guys still changing. You walk over to the man called Deadshot.
You can tell when you’ve reached that pinnacle moment of being a Creature fan when the shit James says just doesn’t even phase you.. Like 4 man dingle dangle.. You just hear it nod your head and are like yep that’s what that was a 4 man dingle dangle. You just relate to it and understand it and in the moment you knew and understood 4 man dingle dangle.