the man with a yellow umbrella

8

I can’t get my guitar wet! What should I do?

Inktober Day 18. Waiting

@iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mr Pickle doesn’t get very many visitors.


His human wasn’t the sociable type in the slightest, and hence many guests didn’t visit Mr Pickle. Apart from the bald man with glasses occasionally, who would stagger into the bathroom in the wee hours, empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet, and give Mr Pickle a pat up on his shelf. Or the other, more easygoing gentleman, who always sang as he made water, especially when he, the bald man and Mr Pickle’s human were drinking.


The bathroom isn’t thought to be a vantage point of the home. Yet from here, perched on his special shelf, alongside the lines of butterflies, Mr Pickle can see everything he needs to. He can see the shadow looming from the door when it opens at night, the flick of the yellow-tinged hall light. The sound of oxford-clad feet, the rustle of an expensive coat being hung on its hook, and an umbrella swinging into place beside it.


When he had a body, years ago, he would be in the hallway right this second, gambolling around the pinstripe-suited tower legs of his human. And settling on his haunches on the plush carpet for a well-coveted scratch behind the ears.


But his body is a little frozen now, suctioned into place on his shelf, with his special golden plaque. So instead of running to meet his human, Mr Pickle must wait, until his dark-haired, long-legged human comes to greet him, and use the lavatory. He always brings a book with him too- 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea is Mr Pickle’s favourite.


Sometimes, the hallway light won’t flick on until the following morning. Or for several mornings after that. On these occasions, when he was a short furry little body, the bald man would visit, to ration out his bowl of dinner, and sometimes slip him a slice of bacon. But now, he needs no food. So all he can do is wait. A handful of times, weeks pass before Mr Pickle’s human returns, usually red-eyed with fatigue, and bladder bursting. The first thing he does is pay Mr Pickle a visit, which makes him feel very loved and appreciated indeed. But there’s not much talking then, and a flump from upstairs several moments after their reunion will tell Mr Pickle that his human has surrendered to exhausted dreams.


No matter how long he’s gone the human always comes home, eventually. To read the newspapers that slowly pile up against the front door, and tend to the modest garden that blossomed out the back.


Until one day, Mr Pickle’s human doesn’t.


The air in the house feels different, the day after, but he ignores it. His human would come home. He always did. But the funny taste of the air lingers, and the halls remain silent and still, ever since Mr Pickle’s human’s boy ran out in a flood of tears.


But Mr Pickle’s human would come home soon.When he had a body, and he was good, his human would give him treats. He just had to keep waiting patiently, like a good boy. Even as the newspapers that thwack onto the front door pile so high they spill over one day, and the garden grows wild and untamed. Mr Pickle waits, as the loneliness drapes over him like a death shroud, and the endless cycle of sunshine, moonlight beaming through the curtains glazes his eyes over.


Eventually, the hall light flicks back on one night. But it’s not his human that stumbles through the door in a zombie-like stupor, face puffy from crying. It’s his human’s boy, the shorter, suit-wearing man, who throws his coat on the floor, and rockets up stairs to collapse on the bed into a ball of agony and tears.


He doesn’t say hello to Mr Pickle. So Mr Pickle waits, like he always does, a steadfast picture of patience. For his human, his real human, to come home.


The funny texture of the air never leaves. Mr Pickle is almost used to it, now. The new taste of the air, the foreign smells of the blond-haired boy and his equally fair-haired lady, as they live and breathe and exist in this house.


The woman visits him in the bathroom, from time to time. But she never says hello, just breezes in and out as though he isn’t even there.


So Mr Pickle waits. Waits and waits and waits.


Because maybe if he keeps waiting, his human will finally come home, and say hello.

(x)

Jesse was starting to wonder exactly how dense Cassidy was.

After all, Genesis had been their thing right from the start: Cass finding Jesse’s unconscious ass splayed out on the church floor, Jesse testing his powers out for the first time on Cass. (He’d tried to play some Justine Bieber in the car. It hadn’t gone over well.) Cass had been the one protecting him from “secret government agents,” consoling him about Eugene, and knocking him over the head with a fucking fire extinguisher when he’d let said appendage swell just a bit too much. How the hell could Cass watch Jesse using Genesis and not think about them?

Jesse had been all ready to play the cop’s game… until that one asshole threatened Cass with sunlight.

He told the asshole to mace his own balls, hoping that maybe a crude reference to genitals would get Cass’ head in the right space.

No? How about two men holding hands? Did that get the point across?

Apparently not. Jesse rolled his eyes and told another cop to start singing “The Yellow Rose of Texas,” wondering if Cass would listen closely to the once impossible love story.

No. The man was an idiot.

“Shoulda just had the guy shout, ‘Fuck me, Cassidy,’” Tulip smirked. “That he might actually notice.”

Jesse groaned.

Little time for that. When the Saint arrived and the shootout began, with Tulip safe beside him, Jesse had little on his mind except where Cass was and whether he was safe. When he finally found him under the car, Jesse had just enough flair left in him to play the gentleman card, holding Cass’ umbrella like he would for any lady.

“Ready to go?”

“Yes, please.”

This fool. Subtle didn’t work on Cass, not at all, and one of these days Jesse was just going to have to come out and say it.

All those commands, asshole? All that power?

That’s for you.

Captive

Chapter Six “Normal”

SUMMARY: You were held captive by Hydra for years and had only just escaped when the Avengers find you. You’re beyond terrified of everyone and everything around you, but the thing the terrifies you the most is yourself. The things you can do with your “abilities” are beyond what anyone could possibly imagine.

Chapters: 1 ~ 23 ~ 4 ~ 5 

Originally posted by bovaria

Warnings: Sexual harassment (near rape experience) and anxiety. Fluff too!

@i-love-bucky-barnes @nopevilleluas @winter–plum @poe-also-bucky @serzhantjamesbuchananbarnes @life-is-fuucked @emilyinbuffalo @buckybarnesisalittleshit @theboldandthebootyful @dr121413 @buckysquad @smartashes @notsoprettykitty @romxnovas @tjhammomd @linsteadandchicagopdarelife @justareader @whatsbetterthanfantasy @nikkitia7 @intenselyupset @thenightmarebeforebucky @sebatmanstan @feelmyroarrrr @dazedandcarefree @fly-f0rever @skeletoresinthebasement @colouredwater @cierrabolton @hotemotionalmess @lady-sloan @avixenrose @captainmqmeep @professionally-crazed @ponyboys-sunsets @abimarvelparker @buckysbestgirll @buckybarnesisapreciousplum @sarcastic-ohohoh @notsoluckybucky @angel34jolly-blog @kitherey @heismyhunter @steadysuitenthusiast @bxckybxrnes02 @irreplaceable-spacexual @stephanieluvspie @canumoveyourseatup-no @cicismith95

You stared out the window of your bedroom, watching the rain fall down onto the streets of New York. The people were seemingly unaffected by the rain, a few umbrellas popping up here and there. You smiled when you saw a man rush to shelter an elderly woman from the rain with his yellow umbrella, the kind action stuck out to you.

Your stomach grumbled angrily, asking why you hadn’t fed it yet. You sighed and pushed yourself off your bed, nervously making your way to the kitchen. Natasha sat at the counter with Sam, talking quietly amongst themselves, a box of donuts sitting in front of them. You stopped in the doorway when they smiled at you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Nat greeted. Sam waved at you.

Keep reading

[ vampire jun pt. 1 ]

im thinking about starting a vampire jun series BEFAUSE I AM STILL NOT OVER IT so this is like experimental to see if I like where it’s going. ENJOYY:)

↬ pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7 ↫


The city of rain.

It’s exactly how it sounds, tall skyscrapers peaking high over dull ash coloured roads with gloomy storm clouds covering the sky like a blanket. The city rarely saw the sun, it was rarely able to feel it’s warmth bathe across the grass or paint shadows on the sides of houses. But one thing the city knew well was rain. Tiny droplets of liquid that drizzled from the clouds, splashing against printed car windows and bouncing off the streets.

Everyone carried an umbrella with them in the city of rain. Everyone but you, who was rushing to work in the rainy weather of early morning. Tiny yelps of sorry’s and excuse me’s left your lips though you hardly meant them as you weaved through crowds of people to get to your destination. After entering the building you gave your head a shake feeling tiny specs of water fly from your hair.

“How many times do you need to get soaked before you bring an umbrella?” Your eyes skipped upwards to meet the friendly face in front of you. A young man with sparkly eyes and neatly combed hair. In his hand was a cup of tea which he handed to you with a smile. “I guess I’ll never learn Joshua.” Your job wasn’t very exciting, at least in your opinion. Every time something major struck out in the city your boss sent you to the scene with a notepad and pen to collect information.

Then you came back and typed up a report for him to publish. That was it. That’s all you did. The only things that ever happened in your rainy city were convenience store robberies and murders. Most of the time you could hardly get any information so you had to expand the truth a little in your reports. Taking a sip of the tea you enjoyed the warmth it installed in your cold body as you followed Joshua into the office of your boss.

“Welcome, welcome, my two greatest reporters on the team!” You quickly exchanged an uneasy glance with Joshua while your boss used his chubby fingers to grab another cigarette to light. “Sometimes I think you two are the only reliable people I have working for me so today I’m sending you off on something big. I want you to go down to Churchill Cemetery and check things out. A few bodies have turned up missing from their graves along with other strange occurrences.”

Churchill Cemetery was usually a very quiet place, not many people ever visited the graves to even pay their respects. Right next to the cemetery’s edge was a forest filled with nothing but tall prickly pine trees and twisting roots jutting out of the ground. You couldn’t say you were shocked to hear that bodies had been disappearing though. “Okay, we’ll check it out.” Joshua turned to you with a nod as your boss puffed out a cloud of grey smoke. “Sounds good to me.”


At the cemetery gate you met with an old man named Albert. His pale wrinkled skin hardly seemed to cling to his face while his eyes were a dull greyish colour. His faded overalls were caked with mud as a shovel hung loosely in his grip. He looked after the Churchill Cemetery, cutting the grass and plucking the weeds that grew around the grave stones. “Is it okay if we examine a few things?” Joshua asked as he pulled out a notepad. Albert responded with a nod of his head.

“These are the graves that have been dug up.” Albert beckoned to the two head stones beside each other, clumps of dirt now turned to muck tossed up and scattered all over the grass. “They belonged to two sisters who died in a car crash just over two weeks ago. Mary and Kate Stewart.” Your pen scribbled across the expanse of the notepad along with Joshua as you drew a quick sketch of the scene.

The crime in the city was horridly high, different deaths every week or new criminals emerging from the shadows. The police were very useless, doing almost nothing against it and leaving the citizens to protect themselves. It was saddening but there was nothing you could do. “Is it okay if we look for a little while longer?” Albert welcomed you to look for as long as you like so you did, collecting information and the tiniest details alongside Joshua.

“Wanna know something?” The young man randomly said while he squatted down to run his fingertip through the dirt. With a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders you flipped the page of your notepad. “Why not?”

“This city is dubbed as the city of rain but it’s also dubbed as Urbem Lamia which means city of vampires in Latin.” (omfg I’m so smart right?)

You gave your eyes a roll at Joshua’s words. He always babbles about these random things that never make any sense so you usually dismiss them. “They say this city is a main attraction for vampires because there’s hardly any sunlight and with all the deserted parts of the city it makes the perfect place for them to hide. Also haven’t you noticed that most of the graveyards are close to forests? Easy access to bodies for their thirsty little fangs.”

“Wouldn’t they prefer fresh blood?”

“Whatever blood they can get their hands on.”

Tossing away Joshua’s little fantasy you began to close up the examination session. Flashing your wrist in front of your gaze you check the time. It’s 11 o'clock and you got here around 9 or so. About 2 solid hours of searching and pointless information that wouldn’t lead anywhere but a news article fluttering along in the breeze, long forgotten. You adjust the straps of your rain jacket as Joshua pulls out an umbrella seeing as thunder could be heard in the distance.

“We should say goodbye to Albert.” Though you didn’t know the little old man very well it was at least kind to announce your leave and thank him for letting you stay awhile. Your dirty rain boots sloshed through pools of muck and slick grass as you huddle close to Joshua under the umbrella. However it seemed as though Albert had disappeared, his faded yellow overalls and ripped fishing hat nowhere to be seen.

That it until Joshua caught him staring into the line of pine trees that marked the forests edge. The amount of grave stones began to lessen until only a few dotted here and there, Alberts shovel propped up against one of them. He didn’t seem to detect your approach, in fact his body seemed still as stone. Exchanging a glance with your partner you slowly break away from him and stand next to Albert.

You followed his strained gaze into the forest, slowly pivoting your head with your lips pressed together. For some reason you could feel the thump of your heart beating inside your chest like you were about to experience the jump scare of a life time. But instead you see nothing, absolutely nothing but the branches of pine trees bobbing in the rough breeze. Just as you reach out to place your hand on Alberts shoulder Joshua is beside you his eyes wide as he squints into the woods.

“Did you just see that?”

“See what?”

“That glint just then, behind that tree trunk. It was like a tiny flash of light.”

Suddenly Albert snapped to his senses like he had just woke up from a coma. He quickly stares between you and Joshua before taking a few steps back and reaching out for his shovel. “You are finished with the examination?” He questions like nothing had happened. Instead you ignore his question asking one of your own. “Why were you staring into the trees?” Joshua is by your side again, pulling the umbrella over your head as a few drops of rain splash on your skin.

“Just looking at a squirrel that’s all. If your work here is done then I should be going back to the shed. Have a nice day.” Just like that, Albert scuttles away weaving his path through the gravestones like he’d been here his whole life. Shrugging your shoulders you tug Joshua away from the tree line and out to the road but not before spearing one glance back into the row of pine trees. And at that moment your heart stops for you swear you saw a face between the trunks.


Finally you finish writing the report. Scooting backwards in your office chair you approach the printer and watch in satisfaction as clean crisp pages of papers slip out. Gathering them up you hurry towards the office of your boss. Giving a few hard knocks you wait until his raspy voice is heard from the other side. The moment you enter the stench of cigarette smoke hits your nose and fills your lungs. You almost drop your report as you cough into the side of your elbow.

“I thought you were trying to quit smoking.” You huff, your voice strained against the poisonous air. Your boss burns out the end of his smoke, tossing it carelessly in the trash before shooting you an apologetic glance. “It’s not easy you know.” Setting the papers down on his desk you push them in his direction noticing the empty pack of cigarettes next to the stapler. His eyes brighten at the sight as he quickly reaches into his desk and pulls out a wad of cash.

“You are absolutely brilliant! I can always count on you to go above my expectations. For all your hard work, here’s a tiny reward.” Your eyes widen as your boss slips off the elastic around the money and pushes off some of the cash. “Where did you get all that?” You exclaim in shock always thinking your boss blew his money on all the cigarette packs laying around his office. “I know some people. It’s 150 dollars, spend it wisely.” As much as you wanted to seem humble and selfless you were quite the opposite.

Money was tight and you could hardly afford your apartment. You would take what you could get. Swiping the cash off the table you give your boss an appreciative nod and thank him for his generosity. On the way out of his office something catches your eye in the corner of his shelf. A photo of a crowd of people standing in front of a building. You had passed his shelf many times, not caring about his baseball trophies or little antiques that had stories worth a thousand words. But this photo was new and it captured your curiosity.

“New photo?” You ask as your boss rises from his chair and walks beside you. With his arms folded behind his back he releases a long sigh. “It’s a photo of the day this business was opened. Almost 40 years ago. That building is the one you’re currently standing in.” Carefully you reach for the frame looking at your boss for permission before taking a closer look. You notice your boss with his arm around a young mans shoulder, a proud smile on his face. Also one thing you noticed was their shadows. It was sunny the day the photo was taken.

“Who’s this?” You point to the young man as your boss takes the photo into his own chubby fingers. He examines it closely before smacking his lips. “Of course! This is Albert, Albert Stewart.” You almost choke on your spit in surprise, not expecting to hear that name. “Is that the Albert that works at the Churchill Cemetery?” The same proud smile from the photo appears on his face, creases gathering by the sides of his eyes. “It sure is.”

“But the two girls who disappeared from the cemetery Joshua and I examined the other day, their last names were Stewart.” You squeezed your fists while probing your mind for a conclusion. “Is he their father?” Your boss was no longer at your side, instead he was opening another pack of cigarettes. “Albert never had any kids, they could be his brothers perhaps.” Your mind began to ache at all the possibilities.

You realized it was better to dismiss the situation seeing more than half the mysteries is this city were never solved anyways. Taking one last glance at the photo and then at the cash stuffed in your pocket you announce your leave. “Urbem Lamia.” Your fingers pause as they wrap around the doorknob, your face turning hollow. “What?”

“It’s just something Albert would say whenever it was sunny. He would go I guess we’re aren’t the Ubrem Lamia today. Never knew what it meant, never asked. He was always a strange fellow.”

“Indeed.” You reply quickly before rushing out the door. After snatching your jacket off the hook you begin to walk home, focusing on the watery sidewalks with the streetlights reflected in them. Cars sped by along the streets, a cool spray of water following in their path as it dampened your skin. However an uneasy feeling had settled inside your gut and it followed you all the way home.


The sun will come out tomorrow,
Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow there’ll be sun,
Just thinkin’ about tomorrow,
Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow,
When I’m stuck with a day that’s grey and lonely,
I just stick my chin up with a grin and say,
The sun will come out tomorrow.

What a depressing day to be replaying the song from Annie, it’s lyrics stuck clearly in your head until you sang it without even thinking about it. You leaned back in your chair inside the small café, a swirl of steam brewing up from your coffee. The sky was dark and gloomy like usual with the expressionless faces of the cities people strutting by. You poked at your late breakfast with your fingers until you peeled away the muffins wrapper and tossed it on the plate taking a big bite and hardly chewing before your swallowed.

“Careful or you might choke.” Your eyes met with Joshua’s sparkly ones as he entered the café with some coins in his palm. Taking a swig from your coffee you give him a scrunched up face as a reply in which he laughs with his little eye smile. Joshua also purchases a late breakfast, sitting down across from you with his jacket sliding down his arms. Taking a bite from his bagel he gazes out the window, the people reflected in his glossy eyes.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.” You tell him while fiddling with your fingers. “Did you know Albert from the cemetery use to work for our boss when he first started his business?” Joshua cocked an eyebrow as he devoured his bagel obviously hungry. After wiping his mouth with the napkin he shook his head. “I didn’t know, how did you figure it out?”

“Just a conversation with him when I stopped by his office last night. Who knows what else he’s hiding.” A soft chuckle escapes Joshua’s lip as he leans back in his chair. “Yeah I’m sure he’s hiding a lot.” You give Joshua an eye roll for his sarcastic tone while finishing your coffee, enjoying the last of its flavour before it’s gone. “You know that stupid Urbem Lamia thing you were talking about, Albert use to mention how the city would lose that title on sunny days.”

“Well obviously, vampires don’t like the sun so they’d hide away.” Pressing your lips together you give your head a shake. Vampires don’t exist, it’s just a bunch of wives tales. As you both clean up your table in the café you slip out onto the streets and head back to work. Break was nice but staying cooped up in a tiny office cubicle seemed so much better. Just before you enter the buildings front entrance you notice Joshua’s fingers freeze around the handle.

Glancing over at him you notice how he reads over a text on his phone with a worried expression, his fingertips turning white from squeezing the case too hard. You nudge his shoulder asking him if everything was alright which is when he turns to you with a puzzled but depressed expression. “Going back to the topic of Albert,” a pause as Joshua glances once more at his phone screen, “he’s been murdered.”


Alberts body was discovered at around 6am by his wife, who came to investigate the cemetery when he didn’t come home from work. The whole area was plastered with caution tape as there were police officers not only at Alberts shed but also around the area where the bodies were missing. You stiffened next to Joshua as officers walked in and out of the shed trying to seem like they had a clue what they were doing. The same uneasiness pooled into your stomach when you noticed your boss pull up in his dark blue truck, his wife stepping out beside him.

The officers wouldn’t let anyone past the caution tape until your boss approached, letting him hop over to check out the scene. His wife waited by the truck, her body wrapped in an expensive fur coat while her eyes were covered by an extra large pair of shades. You follow Joshua over to the place where your boss had slipped past uttering an I’m with him to get by. Chills crept down your spine as you approach the shed an officer talking quietly with your boss.

There laying in his own pool of dried blood was Albert, his eyes now a milky white colour with his skin looking sickly pale. You swallow thickly upon taking in the sight a churning feeling developing in your stomach. A loud yelp sounds behind you as you turn your head catching sight of an old women being ushered to sit down on a wobbly bench. You guessed it was his wife from the way she dabbed a white cloth at her cheeks and the gold ring on her finger. “Joshua this is terrible.” You mutter while stepping out of the shed.

“I know, he seemed like a nice guy.” As your fingers rake through your messy hair you find yourself blowing out a huff of annoyance. Annoyance at how everyone around here seemed to be getting picked off like flies. You feel Joshua’s arm lounge around your shoulders to comfort you when a quiet conversation between two officers capture your attention. Focusing in on the sounds of their hushed voices you find it hard to believe their words.

“There’s two tiny holes on the side of his neck, almost covered by his shirt. It’s like a bite mark.”

“You think it was an animal?”

“Maybe, it’s hard to tell what happened to him or how he bled out like that.”

Though you wanted to listen further, a sharp breeze down the back of your neck snapped you away. Joshua glanced at you in surprise when you whipped around but it was you who was now glancing in surprise at the face you met. A young man, maybe around your age with a playful smirk on his flower pink lips. His skin was a smooth milky colour with jet black hair that perfectly framed his mischievous features. Your gaze fell across his sharp jawline and exposed collarbones that rested under his skin.

But what caught you the most was his beautiful shimmering eyes. Though they were a dark chocolate brown they held a mysterious glint that had shivers prickling along your skin. His stare was bold and had your body feeling as cold as ice. “Were you a friend of Alberts?” His voice had your cheeks flushing a scarlet red, so calm and smooth. A voice you could listen to all day. Swallowing dryly you try to form a sentence but Joshua beats you to it.

“We chatted with him a few times. Just coming to check things out. Sad things had to end this way for him.” Joshua’s face was blank and expressionless as he spoke but you took note of his fidgety fingers telling you he was nervous. “Did you know him?” You ask your voice sounding tiny and quiet. The young man eyes moved slowly from Joshua to you, once again paralyzing you with his stare. A chuckle falls from his pretty lips as the glint flashes in his eyes.

“How could I not? Most of these bodies weren’t buried by him you know.” A still silence hung in the air, the sounds of people’s rushed discussion being carried away by the wind. “You helped Albert bury bodies?” Joshua questioned with a raised eyebrow as though he didn’t believe the young mans words.

“You think I’m lying?” His head cocked to the side as he took a step forward causing you to flush with panic. He may have been a handsome sight but he was as equally intimidating. Grabbing a hold of the fabric on Joshua’s coat you drag him back slightly. “We believe you.” You giggle nervously while you feel Joshua stiffen beside you at the fact you would surrender so easily. However you weren’t taking any chances with this mysterious stranger.

“Relax, you look like I’m going to hurt you.” His smooth voice flows through your ears and you almost wish you could block it out. He slowly approaches you and and Joshua with an out stretched palm a crooked smirk painted on his lips. “I’m Jun.” He announces proudly while waiting for one of you to return the gesture. “Joshua.” You observe as they share a firm hand shake holding one another’s gazes as though they were stalking prey.

Questioning whether or not a crime scene was the right place to be making friends with someone you reluctantly shook his hand but found yourself biting your lip to hold back a tiny gasp. Though his skin was soft it was also shockingly cold, like shaking hands with an ice cube.
Giving him a tiny smile you shrink under his steady stare while giving your name. “Your heart is beating like a drum. Why so nervous?” Jun pulls away while rolling up the sleeves on his loose black jacket, his eyes scanning up and down your body.

“I’m not nervous I guess just a little all over the place because of what happened.”

Jun tugged his lower lip between this teeth before brushing past you and Joshua. “Don’t worry, the sun will come out tomorrow.”


A/N; Vampire Jun for everyone:) pls pray for me I am weak when it comes to this boy anyways I’m hoping to turn this into a short series and I hope you enjoy it^^

E͠҉ņ̡ȩ̢̕r̵ģ̀y̢

Vintage!Egos - Chapter One


“Who'z there?”

Dark and empty space stretched across the sky, the stars and their light weakened by distance, and by thick, opaque clouds that drifted over rooftops. She was walking past this morning’s wreckage of a half-burned house, set aflame by an untended stovetop, still smoking slightly and polluting the air. She turned at the sound of footsteps - nobody in sight. She tripped and stumbled, a little ditzy and unsteady. She turned to continue home, and she heard it again.

“Hey, who’z messin’?” she spat through slurred lips. She waved her umbrella frantically, not the slightest clue as to who she was speaking to. “I - I’m warrrrnin’ ya. Don’t - Don’t come - me. Near me!”

No response. The woman walked on; her umbrella sprung open and she flinched, tossing it down. She proceeded to stomp on it, over and over, until she stepped back and sneezed.

“Ffffff - For hellz! Sake, hellsake!” She continued to curse as it tumbled along the sidewalk, helped along by a gust of wind. “Hey, git back! Herrrre, back! Come on! Come, git!” 

“Who’re ye talkin’ to, lve?”

A hand on her shoulder, a chill up her spine, a man by her side. Black suit, sharp shoes, felt fedora and a sly grin.

“Love? Love?” stammered the woman, caught off guard. “Errrrr - oh, oh! ‘Ello! Out late! Golly, you’re out late, darrrrlin’!”

“Only lookin’ for you. Not much to lo҉ok at, but you’ll do.” he replied smoothly. “Let’s fetch yer um̸brella. Looks like ra͟in’s comin’.”

“Oh, ah, surrrre!” She linked arms with him and smiled. “You always - sayyyy. Know what to say, that’s you! Everrrrry day, no way, what to say.”

He smiled back as they walked into the darkness. Tripping and stumbling, helped along by her darling. She kicked aside old beer bottles and a broken metal frame enclosed within a bundle of silk and taffeta. Her eyes itched, but she kept walking, whistling and nattering away to the man who led her along the street.

“Pe͢r̢f͞e͢c͘t.” They stopped beneath a streetlight. The woman stared at him, saturated in a warm yellow glow, and frowned.

“Perrrrrrrfect? Did - my umbrrrrella?” She blinked a couple times, her brain still foggy and drowned in liquor. “You found it! You did? Thank God! I’ve been lookin’.”

He held out his left hand, empty and bare, clasping something that wasn’t there. She took the umbrella from him and started to open and close it repeatedly. She didn’t see the gleaming object in his other hand, surfacing from beneath his waistcoat, lying in wait.

“Lookin’, lookin’. That’s me. What’s cookin’? Love, whaaaaaat’re you cookin’?” She raised the umbrella and pointed it to the overcast sky. “Me, I’m cookin’ up a storrrrrrrm!”

And to her surprise, it started to rain. Large fat drops that cascaded down and soaked her immediately. Fumbling and laughing, she drew the umbrella over her head and listened to the nonexistent rain as it thundered down from above. “Oh, my, lookit that!”

She smiled at the man, who swiftly joined her in shelter from the rain. “Lookit that, darrrrrlin’, I made it rrrrrrain! Ooh, I must be wizarrrrrrd! A magic, magic wizarrrrrd, lookit me!”

“No dubt ye c͘rt͝àin͝l͟yare.” he agreed, standing tall and smiling a thin-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes, still not yet drenched. The lamp above them flickered, and again she was blind to the object now illuminated by the lamplight.

“Take yourrrrr hat off, darrrrlin’!” She beamed and knocked the fedora off his head to reveal a shock of green. He quickly bent down and popped it back on his head. “Grrrreen, what a colourrrr! Lookin’ good, good lookin’! What’s cookin’? Brrrreakfast, what’s cookin’? You’re cookin’, that’s what! Cookin’ and lookin’ hot. Kiss! A rrrred hot kiss for you, darrrrlin’. Hot!”

The woman leaned in to kiss him, and he came closer. She closed her eyes, ditzy and happy and carefree. Through her eyelids, the lamplight flickered again. She felt his hand on her chest, felt it sink through to her spine and retract swiftly.

“Ooh, that tickles!” she laughed, her Middy blouse stained a bright red as something flooded down her front. “Oh, whoops, lipstick! My lipstick, I spilled it all overrrrrr. Stupid me, what a - “

“Sto̸ ̸p. Fòo̧k̶i̸n’. T̸à̀̕l͝ḱ̡̡i̸̢n͢’̀͟.̵”̨ ̛͢The man snarled, cutting her off with a swift slice into her neck.

“Oh.” She fell, onto the ground, into the warm embrace of her own blood as it pooled out beneath her. Head tilted to the side, splayed on her back. Neck open wide, jaw slack.

The man bent down and dipped his fingers in her blood. Smearing it on the wall behind them both, painting his masterpiece with ink that didn’t belong to him. Until he finished writing, licking stray droplets from his wrist. Then again, he wasn’t in a terrible hurry to get it off, per se; he rather liked the sensation of having it dribble down between his fingers and collect under his nails. He ignored the corpse behind him. She was no longer of use to him. She’d served her purpose.

The man backed up and stared at the wall, grinning. He could feel it already, feel the potential energy growing inside him. He knew what would happen when they found the body. He could hardly wait, he was so excited. Breathing deeply, he imagined the sensation, imagined how it would feel when it would begin to flow through him, untamed. All that energy, deep inside, raw and powerful.

He could hear a car approaching down the street. There wasn’t time for him to escape too far away, but he couldn’t care less - he wanted to be there when they found the body, see their expressions when they discovered his handiwork.

The man ducked into the alley a few steps down the path; soon after, a police car swung into the street. He dared not peek round the corner until he knew he’d be safe to get away, or at least until he had quicker means of escaping should they see him. He waited, hidden in the shadows, as he listened to them exit the car, slamming the doors.

“Good Lord!” exclaimed one. “What the hell is this? Walter, I hope you haven’t eaten yet!”

The man heard another pair of footsteps stop abruptly. “Holy shit! She’s dead! Louis, fetch help, quickly!”

“What - no!” said the first - Louis. “I ain’t leaving you alone here, Walter!”

“Just go, Louis!” encouraged Walter. “I’ll be ok - hopefully. You just gotta run like hell to get Jackieboy, and then we can find out who did this. Alright?”

There was a brief pause. Then, the man heard something that sounded like a kiss on the cheek - he gagged at the sentimentality. Who had time for romance in a situation like this?

“Alright, but stay safe!” Louis replied, hurrying off. Walter watched him go, then turned to the woman’s body. He retched.

“Shit. I wonder who’d do this anyway?”

At this, the man in the shadows doubled over, overcome with a jolt of energy. He gripped his upper arms tightly, knuckles whitening beneath the red stain, and heaved slowly. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, yet he wasn’t quite ready for it. But it wasn’t painful. Not at all. It felt amazing. When he straightened up, he could feel it flowing through him, coursing through his veins. He was itching to do it again, soak his hands in more blood, watch the life drain away from another person’s eyes.

The woman had been drunk, and they were no fun. She’d only been useful in getting the basis for what he really wanted. Now, he had the power to mess around a little more, fuck up someone’s head, drive them to the brink of insanity. Why head straight for the kill on a sane, pliable mind? Why not push them over the edge, right onto the sharp point of his knife?

Why not have some fun?

He raised his knife and scraped it gently against the wall. He heard the policeman - Walter - stop and pause, listening. After a time, he resumed his retching. The man scraped again, a little louder this time, a little quicker and harsher. Walter stopped and spoke into the night, hand over his mouth should he eject more of his dinner.

“Who’s there?”

The man giggled at this. Uncanny, that both his victims had said the same words when they heard him approach. Abruptly, his body tingled all over, and he was no longer in the alley. He was behind the car, out of sight of the policeman. How had he done that? He looked at himself and saw tiny ripples popping into existence every now and then, distorting the appearance of his body in tiny amounts. Had he just teleported?

He giggled again, drugged on adrenaline, pushing himself further into this madness, goading himself to take out this stupid Walter, to bring his power to the highest extent. He could do it again, he knew it. One more strike of fear, and then a pause before he would go in for the kill.

He stomped heavily as he crossed the road, safely in the dark and out of sight. Walter jumped when he heard the steps echo along the street, followed by a soft laugh from some way away.

“Hey - Hey, quit messing around!” he called, very afraid now. “I’m a policeman, mind you! I - I could lock you up if you tried to - if you tried to harm me!”

No response for a while. Slowly, Walter forced himself to relax, breathing deeply to steady himself. Thinking of Louis, beautiful Louis, and how he’d be bringing help any minute now. He looked at the corpse and glanced away again - only to come face to face with another man.

“̷Be͡tteŕ br̵ea͡th̸e̡ w҉hi̸le ye c̕an͏,͟” he sneered, slamming a hand on Walter’s mouth and pressing his knife to his neck. “B͝e͞ca҉u͞s̢e y͝e̢ ̵wo̸ǹ’͡t̕ be abl҉e ͢to f̕or cḩ͝ ̸͞l҉o̧ng҉è̡r̴!̨̀”͜͜͢

Another slice, another thud, another flood of blood. The man felt those ripples across his skin again, and he was overcome with joy, excitement. He threw back his head and laughed raucously, letting his voice reverberate through the night. He reigned himself in eventually, reminding himself he needed to leave, come back again another time. But he stopped when he saw his work on the wall. Remembering that he still didn’t have a name, a trademark.

Well, not quite.

In a sense the man did have one, but it never suited him, and he loathed it for who it reminded him of. He already spent most of his time with them, so a new name was in order to distance himself from them. So he dipped his fingers once more in that forbidden red ink, and once more he wrote on the wall - this time adding only his name. He backed up a little and was delighted to see that the blood was now rippling too, glitching on the edges, pulling the work in and out of focus. He concentrated on that feeling, and the ripples returned to transport him back into that alley. Not a moment too soon, as Louis arrived with a new set of footsteps.

“What - Walter? Oh my fucking God, who the hell did this?! Walter!” Louis was in shock, blubbering at the sight of his lover, dead on the ground. He collapsed and the man heard him trying to stop the flow of blood, calling his name over and over, to no avail.

“Oh, Jesus,” muttered a new voice - the man recognised it as the head constable Jackson Nichols, or Jackieboy as he was often called. “What kind of deranged person would - what is that?”

“What?” sniffed Louis. “What’s what?”

“That stuff on the wall.”

The man convulsed again - more energy, more power. He should be long gone, but he wanted to stay. One more kick of it and he’d be set for the night.

“Words?” he heard Louis say, throat hoarse from crying. “I - I can’t read them…”

“Didn’t you go to university recently?” asked Jackieboy.

“No - Well, yes, I did. What I mean is - the words are moving. They’re not in the same place long enough for me to read all of it.”

“Oh. Yes, I see what you mean. Hold on, I’ll go slowly.” Jackieboy narrowed his eyes and carefully read the message, with much hesitation and rereading. He grimaced once he was finished, then stared at the word beneath the work, speaking it aloud with confusion.

And with that, the man hidden in the alley knew his work was done. A final dose of power instilled him, and now he had to go, sadly. But he consolidated himself by savouring that moment, as he silently went, testing out his new talent on his way home. There were plenty more victims in this town, plenty more bodies to add to the morgue.

Plenty more fun to have.


Dripping and red, dark and glutinous. Scrawled messily, rippling continuously. Glitching, morphing, changing. But always the same message, burned into the wall.


D͚̼̩̋ͭ̅̽̍̈͗o̤̥͖̬̪ͫͯ̔͋̉ͅ ̘̩̲̿ͨͭ̿ͫḬ͉̠̣̆ ͍͔͚ͤͨ̎ͭh̝̑̽͊a͖͋ͨ̉̿v̝̰̤̰͖̬e̮̭ ̲͑̉y̤̏̐ͪ̍ͭ̓̚o͊ͮu̹̦͎̺̤̻̮͗ͯ̃͒͒r͈̺̥̟̲̝̞͌ͤ͛̅ ̲̜͔͉̳̑̍a̮͇̥̞͚̟ͩt̮̪̣͐͑͑ẗ̺͔̝͍ẽ̖̤ñ͕̯̻̻t͍̬̙̦̱̠ͭ̆ͯi͎͓͍̟̝̻͗̉͑̃õ̙̘͚̰̼̤̂n̽̀?̻͕̙͔̭́͌̅

-  A̮͕͚̫͑͘n̝̹͚͖̾̽͑͒͟t̷͖͖͇̪̜̜̰̩͒̏̉̔͌͊́̚i̵̼͖͔͚̼̫͖̬̣̪͔̰̣͉͔̪͠ͅ


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Losing game (bulletproof chapter 2)

(This is part 2 of a multi chapter fic! Check the tag bulletproof to read chapter one.)

We interrupt your current programming to bring you (drum roll, please) the other plot! Don’t worry, the next chapter picks up right where we left off with Roman and Logan, but for now here’s some moxiety. I wanted to set the scene a little more before we get into the spicy stuff, but don’t u worry it’s on it’s way. This chapter is a little short, but we aren’t really too far into the plot yet. Sorry for the crummy formatting, as always, I’m writing on mobile, so it’s not ideal. >:/

This au is getting too fluffy for me to handle tbh. Get ready for some Domestic Hurt Comfort Boys™ in the future… *rubs my little gay demon hands together* here we gooooooo

Ps: the song anx sings is “Love is a losing game” by Amy Winehouse. If you listen to the demo version you can kinda tell what it would sound like on guitar!

TRIGGERS:
Swearing, food mention, character forgets to eat

Chapter two:

Today… was not a great day. Alex huddled close to the side of the building, trying to get under any kind of ledge he could to stay out of the rain. It wasn’t pouring, necessarily, but it was more than a drizzle. Unfortunately, his usual rainy day spot at the subway station had been taken by some asshole with a violin, so he was stuck busking out side of some hipster lunch place.
It was a pretty good spot when the weather was clear. Bunch of environmentally conscious college students, sitting outside eating farm fresh whatever? Just spout out some edd sheeran and that’s his rent check.
Today, however, the weather was not clear, there was no one sitting out side, the shop didn’t have an awning, and he was getting really sick of singing edd sheeran. (He didn’t mind it, just… there’s only so many times he can play the same four songs without wanting to snap his guitar in half.)

He sighed, staring at the few soaked bills in his case, and tried not to feel bitter. It didn’t really work. His hands started strumming cords lazily, almost without thinking about it, trying to remember what song it was from. It hit him, after a bit, and he started singing, half to himself, half to passers by, barely trying to be heard over the rain.

/For you I was aflame.
Love is a losing game.
Five story fire as you came.
Love is a losing game./

He forgot he taught himself this song. It wasn’t a popular one for guitar, but it was fun to sing. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the building.

/One I wish I never played,
Oh what a mess we made.
And now the final frame,
Love is a losing game./

When he opened his eyes again, the sky was obnoxiously yellow. His hand stopped on the cord. Someone was holding an umbrella over his head. He turned to find a man about his age, maybe a few years older, holding an umbrella patterned with gaudy, bright sunflowers.
/…what the hell…/
The umbrella guy covered his mouth like a cartoon, his eyes wide.
“Oh I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you stop!” Alex blinked at him.
“It’s fine… did you… uh… need something, or?” Umbrella guy started grinning. Alex had thought the flowers were bright, but they had nothing on this guys dimples. Holy shit.
“Nope! I’m all good.”
It took Alex a minute to process.
“…Then why are you standing here?” He didn’t mean to be rude. Except he kind of did. It’s not like he had a pr department.
“Well. It’s raining!” The stranger said, like that explained everything.
Alex looked out onto the street, and turned back, deadpan.
“…Yup.”
It took the guy a bit to realize he wanted further explanation. When he did, he rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. But clearly, anyone with that umbrella couldn’t be embarrassed if they tried, so Alex figured he was faking it.
“Well, I figured if you’re playing you can’t hold an umbrella, so I’ll come hold one for you!” Alex narrowed his eyes.
“I can’t exactly pay you much, man.” He gestured to his nearly empty case. “And I don’t really do favors.”
Umbrella guy chuckled. “Oh, that’s ok, I’m on my lunch break.” Alex looked at him like he just grew another head and kissed it.
“This is what you chose to do. With your lunch break.”
“Yup!”
“Shouldn’t you like… eat lunch, or something?”
The guy smacked himself on the forehead with his free hand.
“Ohhhh, I forgot I hadn’t eaten yet.”
How the hell did Alex get in this situation.
“What, all day? Really?”
The guy bit his lip, nodding.

/god danm it./

Alex started to pack up.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m buying you lunch.” He grabbed the small handful of cash at the bottom of the case and shoved it in his pocket.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that!”
Alex glared at the guy. “I’m the reason you’re not eating lunch on your lunch break. I’m
buying.”

He swung his guitar, now in its case, over his shoulder and started walking towards the door to the hipster food place they were standing outside. The guy followed him, still babbling that he really didn’t have to. He strolled up to the counter, and slapped his handful of cash down. He had… what, a little over ten? Enough for a sandwich. Umbrella guy had folded up his umbrella, and followed him up to the counter. Maybe it was just the rain, but his cheeks were bright pink.

“I’ve got enough for a sandwich. What’d you want?”
“I- you really don’t have to-”
“Look, I’m just going to order something, and if you don’t eat it I will.”

A girl came up to the register from the kitchen. Alex was about to order when she turned to the guy, confusion on her face.
“…Boss?”
If he was pink before, umbrella guy was well into red now.
“I told you to call me Moe, Julie…” he mumbled. Alex wanted to scream at something.
“You… work here?” The girl he called Julie snorted.
“Work here? He’s the owner. What’d he do this time?”
Alex ignored her in favor of her boss, who was at this point clearly past embarrassed.
“You own a lunch place and forgot to eat?”
He knew his voice was getting high pitched, but his dismay over took any instinct to lower it. Julie tutted.
“Boss, again? I keep telling you, set a reminder on your phone.” The guy (Moe?) threw his hands up in defeat, chuckling.
“Alright, alright, I’ll have an iced tea and a house special.” He shot Alex a look out the corner of his eye that made his skin feel warmer.
“Make that two.”

Downpour-Kristanna One Shot

Written for Brookyln who gave me this idea after I said that I was going out to get chocolate from the shop, but it started pouring down so I didn’t. We laughed and Brooklyn said that is totally something Anna would do. She’d power through rain for chocolate!


She practically fell through the shop door. She was cold, wet and tired but it would definitely be worth it.

“Jesus! Why the hell are you out in this weather? It’s been pouring down all day,” the shop keeper said.

Anna didn’t recognise him but figured that he was new because she’d been coming to this shop for years and only ever been served by Oaken.

“I need chocolate.”

“You came out in the rain just to get chocolate?” He looked her up and down. “God, you look freezing hang on.”

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weird ko ba? naeexcite ako pag nakakakita ako ng yellow umbrella lakompake kahit may pangalan ng banko pa yan as long as color yellow sya tas ano hehe sana naman may magbigay saking ng yellow umbrella this pasko o kaya may mahanap man akong yellow umbrella ako na bibili dadalhin ko talaga rain or shine lakompake himym feels tayo dito men

Serendipity |  Jimin!Soulmate AU

Originally posted by smileyjeon

You woke up this morning raindrops falling against the window. 

‘’Same dream… it’s the same thing over and over again.’’ puzzled by your repeating dream you slowly climbed out of bed rubbing your eyes. This was the 6th time this week. You poured the coffee into your cup hoping it would wake you up, your cat jumped up on the dining table begging for attention. ‘’I know I know I’ll feed you in a minute fluffy.’’ You answered waving your hand at Fluffy. The cat in your dreams look nothing like Fluffy. Fluffy was black and fat, while the cat in your dreams were a calico, stoic creature who moved gracefully over the white floor. Fluffy looked at you pissed over the fact that you had yet to feed him, he had been waiting a whole minute now! You made your way over to his cat bowl and picked it up. Next to it lied Fluffys bright red ball, another thing that made you even sure that it wasn’t fluffy. The ball in your dream was yellow, Fluffy hated yellow. You on the other hand quite liked the color.
Your morning went on just as it did any other day. Getting dressed, going to school, nothing out of the ordinary.

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More than friends- Steve rogers one shot

Summary: You’re out at a bar and this guy just won’t leave you alone. Steve, a complete stranger, notices your discomfort and claims to be your best friend to get you away from the jerk.


Warnings- Alcohol consumption, unwanted male attention


Word count- 1615


A/N- Hiya I had a lot of fun writing this piece! Protective Steve always makes my heart melt. I may or may not do a second part taking place a year after this part, based on the feedback I get. Enjoy :)


Your POV


“Hey Y/N I think it’s about time we went home, do you want us to call you a cab?” your friend, Rose, said while holding her girlfriend’s hand.


“No you guys go ahead, I think I’m gonna hang out here for awhile.”


“Alright if you’re sure.We’ll see you later,” You waved goodbye to your friends as they weaved their way through the hoards of intoxicated people grinding on eachother.


You relaxed into your stool and rested your elbows on the oak countertop. As you locked eyes with the bartender, you motioned for her to come over.You were feeling in the mood for some fun so you ordered the fruitiest drink on the menu and asked if she could put a little yellow umbrella in it. She complied with a smile and began to mix your drink.


The music was so loud that you almost didn’t hear the stool next to you squeak under the stranger’s weight.


“Hey there darling. I haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?” You looked over at the man. He was tall and slender with dark buzzed hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. He was fairly handsome and his smile was charming.


“Hi I’m Y/N, and who are you?” You responded casually.


“Jonathan” He stated and outstretched his hand to you. The both of you shook hands and then the conversation stopped for a few minutes as you finished your drink.


You noticed him looking you up and down and he wasn’t being subtle about it either. Something about this Jonathan guy gave you a bad vibe.


“How about I buy you a drink, Y/N?” He said in an obvious attempt to start the conversation again. Not waiting for you to answer, he flagged over the bartender and asked her to make you another one of your fruity drinks. She placed it in front of you with a sympathetic smile. She had seen guys buy drinks for girls all the time, and she knew when they didn’t exactly want them. Now was one of those times.


After finishing up the cocktail Jonathan bought, you stood to go dance and hopefully lose him in the crowd. He lept off of his stool and followed you a few feet away from the bar.


“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, hostility clear in his tone.


“To dance” You declared plainly and kept walking away from him.


He began to follow you again. You could hear the sound of his boots coming closer when someone’s arm was flung around your shoulder. The person leaned into your ear swiftly and whispered to you.


“Laugh at something funny I just said.”


Puzzled but trusting the man next to you more than Jonathan, you laughed just like he told you to. He leaned back into your ear.


“What’s your name?”


“Y/N” After hearing this he spun around, keeping his arm around your shoulder. He smiled and outstretched his hand to an angry Jonathan standing just behind you.


“Hi I’m Steve, Y/N’s best friend. Who are you?” He questioned. Jonathan refused to take his hand like a jealous child.


“Um I’m Jonathan, but I was trying to dance with her just now” Jonathan grumbled growing more annoyed.


“Well sorry man but I’ve got to steal her away for a little while. Go find someone else to dance with.”


With that the man turned the both of you around and left Jonathan standing there dumbfounded.


As you both sat down at a booth you finally got a good look at your savior. He was taller than Jonathan and incredibly ripped. His dirty blonde hair was of medium length and styled in an old fashioned, handsome way. The blue of his eyes stood out to you and his lips were quirked up in a nervous smile.


“Hey sorry about all that. I could tell he was bothering you and I didn’t know what else to do. My name’s Steve if you didn’t catch it before. I’m sorry if all that made you uncomfortable. I can leave you alone now to enjoy the rest of your night if you’d like me to” He stammered.


“No don’t worry about it Steve. He was being a real dick. Thanks for rescuing me” you responded and rested your hand on his upper arm gently.


“Oh well you’re quite welcome ma’am. It was no trouble really,” He declared and began to turn away from the table.


“Hey wait, do you want to sit down for a while with me? Unless you’ve got other friends here. I don’t mean to interrupt your night.”


Now it was your turn to stammer on. He looked genuinely pleased at your words and sat down across from you.


“I’d love to. You know I would ask to buy you a drink but I have a feeling that jerk might have put you off of people buying you drinks for the night,” He joked


“Well you’d be correct but I’m willing to make an exception. You may buy me one drink but that’s all,” You retorted in the same light tone.


The night progressed and 5 drinks later you and Steve were both intoxicated, and your deal about him buying you one drink was 4 drinks since broken. Oddly enough Steve didn’t buy any drinks for himself. He had a flask of some special liquor that he received from a friend.


You questioned him about it and he explained that he was infact an avenger. And not just any avenger. The first avenger. That would explain the muscles, you thought. Thor had given him the alcohol from asgard and it was the only booze that could get captain america drunk. It was shocking that you didn’t recognize him when you first saw him. You both laughed about how much trouble he had to go to, to get a drink and throughout the time you spent together, you both moved closer to each other in the semi circle booth. Your thighs were eventually touching and you leaned on his shoulder for support.


“Hey Steve, why did you tell Jonathan that we were friends instead of a couple? Wouldn’t you being my boyfriend had scared him away more than you telling him we were friends” You thought out loud. He paused for a moment but then responded.


“I didn’t want to make you think that I expected anything from you, after I got you out of there” You nodded satisfied with his response but wishing that he was just ask you out already. I mean, could you be anymore obvious. You both danced a few times and cracked up when you saw Jonathan chasing after yet another girl tonight. Luckily she had a cab waiting for her outside and quickly climbed inside.


Before either of you had realized it, the bar was closing down and you had to go home. Steve led you to the door and as you were hailing a cab you remembered that your coat was inside. Steve ran back to get it and handed it to you.


“Bye Steve. Thanks for everything. I’ll see you around,” Just ask for my number already, dammit.


“See you around Y/N,” He said as he leaned down to kissed your cheek. You turned around to look at him giving him one last chance to ask for your number, or ask you out for dinner, or anything. You were far too nervous to ask him out. When he just gazed back at you with red cheeks, you climbed into the cab and waved softly.


The next morning you threw your hair into a ponytail and grabbed your coat from the foot of your bed to get your morning coffee. You walked down the block to your regular cafe and hurried inside. There was a terrible chill outside but the coffee shop was always so warm.


Once you ordered your drink you reached into your pocket to pull out the money that you put in there last night. You found the $3 you were looking for along with a neatly folded napkin. After paying for your drink you sat down at one of the empty tables and carefully unfolded the napkin.


Y/N,
I’ve never been to smooth around women (especially women as beautiful as you). I’m not sure what to say or when to say it, but I do know that I’d love to see you again. Hopefully in a scenario where we’ll be something more than friends.


His number was written on the bottom in messy scrawl and you called him right there in the small cafe. He picked up immediately like he had been waiting for you to find his note, and no matter how hard you tried, the smile wouldn’t leave your face.

A/N: I’m no longer writing from this blog. Follow my new blog @super-soldier-fics
Chicago Gothic

·If you dangle your feet in Lake Michigan near the abandoned warehouses where bootleggers and mobsters sat on their thrones of whiskey and gin, the ebony and amber seaweed secured to the muddy floor of the harbor with cement boots might tickle your feet.

·A customer asks politely for ketchup for their hotdog. You sigh and hand them a packet and pull a headset over your ears to drown out the sound of the city swallowing up the man just like it did the four other customers that day who asked.

·In Wrigleyville, A petrified goat carcass slumbers under mounds of ancient concrete where the strains of the seventh inning stretch can’t be heard. “This is the year!” No. This is not the year. A hundred have passed since the ritual failed. Spectral herds of goats charge down Clark Street every year on opening day. The ivy drips red when no one is looking.

·The thunder cracks and the rain pours and you pop open a black umbrella. So does everyone else on the sidewalk, except for a woman with a yellow umbrella. You blink and she’s gone.

·A brown streak runs through the city. We told ourselves that the last girl who fell in was clumsy and ignorant, but the river chooses. The river has always chosen.

·Those from the suburbs who claim residence in Chicago should take care to speak in hushed tones lest the floating red stars who patrol the neighborhoods pick up on their conversation. Niles is not Chicago, the red stars whisper. La Grange is not Chicago. Naperville is not Chicago.

·A shiny transit map displays the CTA system of elevated and subterranean lines. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, Pink, Brown. A Grey Line train is announced. 2 minutes. Your hair flies past you as it rumbles down the tracks, but you see no train. Doors closing, a singsong voice announces. The train thunders away. No one is left on the platform.

Infliction, chap. 7

Mafia!ASTRO

A gun pointed to your mother’s head as your father shovels over wads of cash; threats being spitted all over the place as you peek through the meager crack in your door - only a distant memory.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14


Eunwoo’s lip curls, muttering curses under his breath as he shoves through the crowd. The sun was high in the sky, lazily using the soaring buildings as a crutch, scarcely visible through the tenuous cracks in the hordes swarming towards the metro entrance. The abundant air filters out your poor, decrepit lungs; longing to see the beautiful buildings and scarce out of place trees for just a second longer.

Eunwoo suddenly stops amidst the barbaric crowd, glancing back at you to make sure your still tailing closely behind, then beckoning you to continue to follow him as he starts his plunge down below the earth.

He stops at one of the machines to refill his idle subway card, which took you back for a moment because, who ever thought that on the urban Seoul subway, one of the biggest Mafia bosses in Korea would be sitting right aside them? Possibly contemplating their impending imminent misdemeanor or next Black Market purchase.

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Mystrade prompt: “None of that information is particularly unsettling, is it?”.

This is technically cheating as it’s an excerpt from an ongoing fic, but hey, it’s not against the rules! For @itsnotaniesha

First meeting.

Originally posted by imaginemycroftholmes

The suit was the first thing that caught her eye. In the fluorescent yellow lights of the underground car park where she had been unfortunate enough to leave her precious Focus, it stood out. The blue pinstripe trousers had perfectly starched seams and stretched around toned, impossibly long legs. The shoes were black wingtips with dark blue laces. A pinstriped jacket with a matching waistcoat completed the getup; the long swan-like neck was adorned by a yellow tie that matched the pocket square in the left pocket of his waistcoat. The black umbrella in his hand was an interesting addition. A man who knows his suits.

Her mouth fell open. The stranger was smiling at her, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. Her nephew would describe the man’s nose as beaky, but Ginny found it graceful. The reddish brown hair was swept back towards his right temple. An immense forehead gave an impression of great intellect. The rather sharp features came together to form a very appealing countenance. 

She suspected that the unflappable air was a put-on, but she had nothing to prove that. Now, Ginny was not one to stop and ogle openly at men; she would dismiss that urge as creepiness of the first order, but her brain was too exhausted to keep up with social niceties. That, and the man was standing right behind her car.

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Bright Ideas

Okay, so here it is. It’s kind of messy since I wrote it in chunks at different times and then connected them, so go easy on me haa..

Bright Ideas (2434 Words)

To be completely honest, Dipper’s ideas usually never did fall under what other people might classify as well thought out or… ‘good’. They never seemed to be a problem to him, but in retrospect, quite a few of them weren’t that successful.

Going hiking in the woods without checking the weather forecast would be one.

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Sara Bareilles - Covers

  1. Oh! Darling (The Beatles)
  2. Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For (U2)
  3. In Your Eyes (Peter Gabriel)
  4. Bennie and the Jets (Elton John)
  5. Imagine (John Lennon)
  6. Genie in a Bottle (Christina Aguilera)
  7. Single Ladies (Beyonce)
  8. With a Little Help From My Friends (The Beatles)
  9. Part of Your World (The Little Mermaid)
  10. Umbrella (Rihanna)
  11. Sullivan Street (Counting Crows)
  12. Fuck You (Cee Lo Green)
  13. Mr. Sandman (The Chordettes)
  14. Yellow (Coldplay)
  15. Nice Dream (Radiohead)
  16. Little Lion Man (Mumford and Sons)
  17. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (Elton John)
  18. Take On Me (A-ha)
  19. Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay (Otis Redding)
  20. I’m On Fire (Bruce Springsteen)