This Is So Good - Tumblr Posts
During an intense art block I took a stab at a couple of canon characters from crk!
sometimes i just wanna let ‘em
It Was The Beatles
Rated: PG-13
Word Count: 2.4k
Pairing: Generally is just all 4 (ot4) of them being protective of each other, but can be read as Mclennon/Starrison if you prefer it that way.
Chapters:1/1
Note: This is lovely gift to the wonderful @cirilee we have been talking about it for wEeks! I hope you enjoy it, and that it was worth the wait. Talking about it with you was honestly amazing, and I hope we can continue to gush more ideas about these sweet boys. :’)
In the midst of unbearable screams, and practically inaudible sets, the boys were coming close to their final numbers of their concert, hoping to play out and finally take a rest. The four were completely exhausted from the day, and this particular American crowd was not making it easy on them. Non stop we’re their screams. Paul’s attempts to hush them were futile in the face of thousands of teenage girls. Completely setting the building in a whirlwind of high pitched unrelenting chaos.
It shouldn’t surprised any of the Fab Four that someone would have eventually stormed on the stage.
What the boys weren’t prepared for was for two to storm the stage. Quite successfully in fact.
It all seemed to have happened out of nowhere. Two girls managed not only to evade Mal, and the rest of security, but they practically set the whole room off the rails.
George had first caught notice of it when Paul had stopped singing right in the middle of the next number. Turning over, he saw Paul struggling with a girl who clutched his waist in her arms from behind. Eventually, shifting around to tug at his sleeve, and splitting the seams of his suit. Paul was attempted to shake her off, but he couldn’t really take her grip off, or shove her. The press would have a field day if he “attacked” her so rudely like that.
George felt immediately defensive, but when he caught sight of John throwing his guitar to the ground he knew something was quickly about to go amiss. Press or no press, John wouldn’t stand for this bullshit. Especially when the gal took ahold of Paul’s cheeks, and planted a fervent kiss on his lips. John had officially lost it.
“Let him go- Piss off!” John ran off to Paul’s side practically fuming. Shouting over the girl’s screams as they refused to let go despite John’s attempts to pull her off Paul.
The more they tried, the more the girl resisted. She was practically tearing him apart.
George was about to butt in, and give John some help when he heard a crash of one of Ringo’s symbols. The second girl, had now tackled Ringo to the ground, and off his drum pedestal.
George quickly sprinted to Ringo, absolutely horrified when he bared witness to his bandmate face down on the floor with a girl holding a pair of scissors at his head, George quickly pulled the girl up, and off his drummer. She struggled a lot, but Geo had an ironclad grip.
Things started to move so fast George could barely keep track of what was happening as the girl kicked and screamed at who he could only assumed was her friend.
“I’ve got some! I’ve got it!”
Geo tried relentlessly to find any security coming from the wings of the stage, but all he could see as he turned about was John, who had finally pulled off the lady practically clawing, and groping at Paul.
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Based on The Secret History // Donna Tartt, 1992
Text: "A Pursuit" // Margaret Atwood (in The Animals in That Country, 1968)
ezekial
Under the Stars, the Grass Smells Sweet
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader
Summary: The ranch hand you loved in your younger years is back in town, this time as a rising star in the rodeo circuit. After a show, he reminds you that he hasn’t forgotten about you or the promise he made.
/ “Oh, you still got a curfew?” He teased. “Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but I don’t work for your father anymore. I don’t have to abide by his rules. I can make you spend the night with me if I damn well please.”
The danger and authority in his voice sent a thrilling shock down your spine, only to be softened by his next words.
“That is, of course, if you’ll have me.”
CW: western AU, smut
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The worst side of myself.
some pretty old character art for malevolent that I recently touched up :333
Ceramic Bunnies I Official Trailer
for yellowjackets october: yellowjackets re-imagined as a slasher [youtube]
‘heartworm’_hamzahthefantastic
tired and sleepy conversations with your boyfriend who doesn’t shut the fuck up .
fluff, suggestive talk about martin, family ideas, cuddling in bed, established relationship.
>_<
one thing you noticed about your boyfriend is that he has many things inside his head, a raging –almost painful– need to tell you everything he is thinking about, and while you thank him for the trust, you can’t help but wonder if he analyses the things he says out loud before verbally vomiting them.
“y/n, are you awake?” hamzah’s voice came out soft and groggy, his low tone dragging in a whisper made you open your eyes almost so quick that it hurt.
“hmm, yes.” you replied, adjusting your sight to the dark room.
“do you…wanna talk?” he shifted on the bed, turning his body to face yours. he had a small smile as he looked at you. you felt warm.
the way his hair was messy, and his face so naturally familiar to you felt almost dreamy.
hamzah’s big sleepy eyes made your heart feel like a cooker bomb. weird comparison but to be honest you could almost feel the way it was going to explode anytime.
and god, you love him so much. unexplainably so damn much. he thought the same of you.
“cant sleep, huh?” you asked, getting closer to his body under the covers, but then you felt how one of your cats, probably blue, squealed. he was probably sound asleep between hamzah’s body and yourself, always looking for warmth. the protection of his cat parents
“mmm, nope, not really.” he sighed. “have so much stuff going on, you know? inside my mind, i mean.” he admitted, one of his hands travelled to your face, and he stroked your cheek only to feel some sort of contact. “so fuckin’ pretty, huh, you’re my pretty girl..”
you leaned into the touch like a needy pet, and he couldn’t help but smile, heart feeling full.
“whats inside your mind, hamzah?” you asked curiously.
although you were extremely tired and sleepy, hamzah always came first to you. soul intimacy was important, not only sex, and you wanted to know what was bothering him or keeping him awake at such indecent hours.
“you. always.” oh. “like, for real, y/n, and i don’t wanna sound obsessed, even though yeah, i am pretty much obsessed with you–,” he paused to swallow. your heart felt so heavy with a feeling you couldn’t quite describe, but only hamzah made you feel. “i am always thinking about you.”
to be reciprocated, to be seen. hamzah made you feel seen, as he pretty much matched your deep feelings for him. –oh, y/n, you match my freak!– his voice filled your head. so nice.
“i feel the same way” you bluntly said. “each day i feel like we have been dating for my whole life, because this crazy funny feeling never really goes away.” by that you meant, the exciting feeling of expectation and young love.
first love.
he giggled, low tone. “right! i know, it’s like, okay, like i feel like i am a kid in love, you know? all silly and nervous around you, but at the same time i feel like we have been married for ages!”
to be reciprocated, to be seen. to be in love.
“i love you, hamzah.” you admitted, your voice suddenly softer.
and he didn’t reply, instead, he lifted the covers all the way up till they were engulfing your bodies, the closeness was comforting, and his arms moved around your frame until a hug was crafted. so perfect and tender. his body was like a boiler, providing you of heat, almost like a heat pad for cramps… but man sized.
he looked at you, big round eyes silently speaking, hoping you hear them, –god i love you, i love you so much you’re my fucking world, i wanna spend my whole damn life by your side.– silent confession.
instead, he says;
“have you ever had tapeworms?” hamzah asks out of the blue.
you blink. blink twice. then three times. and then you sigh, remembering your boyfriend was just, well, just like that. it didn’t ruin the atmosphere though, you enjoyed… whatever the fuck he was trying to say.
“hmmm, i don’t think i have had tapeworms, no” you answer snuggling up to his bare chest.
hamzah hums. “it’s fine, me neither by the way, i just asked ‘cause whenever i think of you my heart feels like it’s got a tapeworm inside of it…”
silly, you thought. lovely.
“yeah. i think i know what you mean.”
“i think it’s in the way we match each other so fucking well, yeah? i never thought i could find a person that just… loves me… for what i am…” he said and you felt your heart skip a beat.
your eyebrows furrowed. “elaborate.”
“for instance, you’re my friend, but also my girlfriend, but also my wife, but also my best friend, and not only that, you’re also like, my life partner, you know?”
ugh, stupid fucking feelings. you felt so deeply about hamzah that your heart felt like it could burst out anytime.
“hey, i love you so much it’s almost overwhelming.” you admitted, melting into his touch. “for so long i thought nobody would ever notice me or listen to me or even just, be my friend. or try to take the time to understand me…” your voice lowered at the end of your sentence.
he groaned at how close you were. satisfaction, of course.
“you’re so beautiful, y/n.” he kissed the top of your head. “like, i also thought that martin would be my only friend forever, as scary as it sounds.” he laughed and you did too.
“hey! martin’s nice!” you defended your friend.
“i mean yeah, i love him too, but it’s different. not in the way i love you, and i know he doesn’t love me in the way he loves mandy.” he explained.
“yeah, i know.” you laughed sleepily, as you leaned onto hamzah’s body. it helped a ton that he slept shirtless because you liked the raw closeness.
“martin is cool, but if i had never met you, i would have blue balls and an empty heart!”
“and gay allegations, still.” you added, laughing.
“but most importantly blue balls..” hamzah said serious, with a sigh.
“huh?!”
“i can’t fuck martin. i can’t make love to martin, though, just think about it.”
“dude…” you said, trying not to burst out laughing out loud.
“i have thought about it, but only before meeting you, it’s just weird!” hamzah explained, with a nervous smile on his face.
“you don’t have to think about that, hamzah!” a smile creeped up on your lips. an awkward one.
“right, i know.” he defended himself-, “i don’t think about it anymore, i was just a lonely man before you, though.” ah, you knew that.
every time they could, mandy and martin made sure to tell you how much of a loner miserable man hamzah was. a painfully single dude. even the slushies would be constantly commenting jokes about it.
“because you’re weird that’s why…” you joked and he clicked his tongue. “that’s why i love you”
“you know, before you; it was my hand, lotion, tissues and me against the world.” he listed as if it was a great accomplishment.
as if it was something super fucking serious. to be fair, it was very serious to him.
“no video?” you joked. it felt so nice and genuine to talk about silly stuff like this with your man.
he stopped to think for a second. “nah, just my imagination. always imagined you though, even before meeting you i always imagined someone like you.” he kissed your forehead.
“wow, how romantic, it’s almost as if you’re not talking about beating your meat.”
as you both comfortably joked and laughed, a nice silence filled the room.
hamzah pulled you closer, which you thought was physically impossible, but still, your body thanked his devotion for physical affection.
his low voice broke the silence.
“y/n…”
“yes, hamzah?”
he sighed, holding your waist close to his own. you could feel him, feel him merging with your body, but it was nice, not really anything more than intimacy.
“i can’t wait to have a family with you.” he said, the weight of the confession leaving his chest felt so good.
your eyes opened wide. and you stuttered to reply.
“we are a family.” you said.
the cats, him, you. yeah, a family as god intended, right? but still, you knew what he meant. and you wanted it too.
“do you think we’ll be good parents?” he asked, the tone in his voice indicating he was being honest, being hopeful. he hoped for you to say yes so badly.
you thought for a moment…
“i think we’ll be okay, hamzah.” yeah.
“we’ll be okay, love.” he said, but it was almost as if he was trying to reassure himself.
hamzah wanted a big family, and he liked thinking about caring for the little humans you’d create together.
and the room filled with silence yet again, as you heard his calm breathing, you realised he had fallen asleep. the comfort of his embrace made you fall asleep as well.
hamzah felt so safe with you, so understood. never judged at all. he said weird stuff, but you always had a smile on your face. never grossed out by him, never angry, always loving.
it was nice. to be reciprocated, to be seen.
the heartworm inside his heart wiggled happy, eating his flesh and leaving a trace of only you.
>_<
hope u liked this. i did. heh.
Under communism the wait staff will not ask if Pepsi is okay. You will not even find out that's its Pepsi instead of coke until you take your first sip. Unless you train like me, to know the difference from the sound of the Fizz alone, that is the only way we can beat communism and I can teach you. Take my hand. Not like that you grabbed it gay. Stop. Giggles. I SAID STOP
Magic Man
Summary: Who was once a failing magician, ended up finding the spark he needed in the worst way.
How Atsuhiro Sako became the villain called Mr. Compress.
A/N: Major character death, abuse of authority, origin story, unemployment, murder, violence.
If you are sensitive to these things, please avoid!
Once again, Atsuhiro walks off the stage in shame. This is the second time he was booed. A showman with tricks is always welcomed. At least it was until lately. He cannot figure out what went wrong! Is it the obviousness of his quirk? Making things magically appear can be tricky to figure out. Then again, in today's world, anything can be explained.
No one believes in magic anymore. Especially with quirks running around. Sighing, he goes home and silently hopes he doesn’t see the lovely you, his dearest friend. He opens the door to his apartment and smells pancakes. That can only mean two things: you broke in and he is out of ingredients for everything else.
Atsuhiro comes from behind you and wraps his arms around your middle. Humming in acknowledgement, you rub the top of his head. After asking how he is, your affectionate friend cannot say. It doesn’t take the smartest person to figure out what happened.
“Don’t worry, magic man," A nickname you gave him years ago that stuck ever since. It fit him greatly since he became a magician and didn't just use it for a hobby. "Everything will be okay!” Your voice is reassuring as hell. It always is. Sometimes he wishes you were honest about your feelings about him.
How long has he carried a torch for you? Do you feel the same? He is quite the loser, so no way could you be experiencing the butterflies that soar within him when he knows you’re there. He doesn't even need to see you for him to feel this way. Luckily, his ways of being affectionate towards you is welcomed. An excuse to hold you without it being too forward.
It is embarrassing to hope that you’d give him the time of day.
“Out of stuff?” He asks without removing himself from your body. “Yes. But don’t worry,” There you go again. “I made pancakes! And there is honey, just how you like them.” Handing him a plate with a smile, you go back to flipping more for yourself.
Another thing about you: you serve him food first whenever you see him. Not just with food either. It's with everything. To him, it shows how much you are covering yourself. Your lack of honesty can be suffocating at times. Be selfish, be honest! It's okay to complain to me.
He sits down and doesn’t touch a thing. Atsuhiro waits for you as always. A few seconds later, you sit in front of him and cover your pancakes with the sweet gold. It was something you picked up from him over the years.
The two of you eat in silence for what feels like forever. There is something in the air, something unsaid that he is a little leery against. “Buddy, what do you think of me helping you out?”
There it is.
“I am getting a promotion and I want to help you.” He wants you to be honest, to be free from those chains of yours because you spare him. But why does this sting? Is it the embarrassment?
“No.”
“Don’t be prideful. There isn’t anything wrong with a woman working.” There truly isn’t. This is not about that though. This is about his own pride and failure. You working extra to support him is leaving a bitterness in his chest. “I know there isn’t. It’s not about that.”
“Then what?” You put your last bite in your mouth. Your eyes trail to the last pancake. Quickly you look away and try to start the conversation again. Of course, you save the last for him. Yes, you have your own place and food. However, you sitting here in front of him hungry creates a frustration like no other. Not at you, but the situation. It feels like salt rubbing into the wound. He knows you mean well. You always do.
He feels like screaming. He takes the pancake and places it on your plate. “Eat.”
“You’re still hungry-”
“Eat it. I’m not hungry.”
“It’ll be fine.” You grab his hand and squeeze it. "Besides, I don't even live here. You don't need to feed me." Looking up at him with such wonder reminds him of how you met. In his younger years he was performing tricks on the street. There were a few people in his audience but none of them held such a look. Complete awe of him, not towards his great-great grandfather. No, just him. You clapped and cheered him on. Doing that was amazingly flattering.
He gets up from the table and puts the last bit of honey on your fluffy pancake. Atsuhiro cuts it up and puts a piece in your mouth. Then he says, “If you want to, then fine.”
As much as it bothers him because of it feeling like a testament of his failure, he won’t let you go through this. If you are willing to work harder for his sake, then why should he make it harder for you by not helping? Soon, he will look for a proper job. When he does, you won't have to worry about him anymore.
At night, when it is time for bed and for the moon to shine, you wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his back. His heart flutters in his chest. “I don’t regret you, never forget that.”
He removes himself for a moment and gets on his knees so he can bury his face in your middle. “You’re my goddess. Forgive me for it all.” He hears a slight gasp. He has always been affectionate, so you have gotten quite used to it. Though the declaration is on another level of sweetness. Being viewed as a deity to a dear friend is a lot to think about.
“Always.”
He applies for job after job. No one is biting.
Every time he is rejected, he remembers his grandfather telling him about his grandfather. How the great villain was capable of doing wonderous things, like Robin Hood. How the man was liberated and yet kind; loved and respected but fearsome.
He always looked up to his great-great grandfather. Their quirks are so similar too. What he didn’t like was how people thought of him. Since he is a little older, he lets their opinions go; whether good or bad.
One more time, he thinks. If one more job denies him, he has no reservations then. You'll understand. He won’t kill anyone, hopefully. Atsuhiro can’t imagine the face you would make if you discovered blood on his character. The knowledge of him murdering someone would devastate you. Crimes like murder could ruin the relationship.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t know then...” He mutters.
Thinking about his plan b has him remembering when he told you of his heritage. Only that he came from a villain and a family that supported the man’s rampage. You said you held nothing against him. In fact, what you had responded with is: 'How can you blame the child for the sins of his father?'
Atsuhiro admired you for that. It made him feel good that you didn’t judge or compare him. How many times did people realize who he was related to and cursed him? It was always hero fans, too. Always, it is the hero society that scorns who they consider the lesser beings. Although he has never committed an illegal act, he has had a horrible experience with heroes.
Atsuhiro takes a deep breath. That ill feeling still lingers about that. It has been-what?- twenty years or so?
Cracking his neck, he goes home after another turn down. Sucking his teeth, Atsuhiro is done.
You don’t come over. Hunched over his table, he fixes a mask out of the material he had from a spare costume then paints it white with a basic design in black. Shoving his feet into his boots, he takes one last look in the mirror. It is his stage costume he always wears for shows. An orangish button up with a vest, and a hat to top it off. Something fun that grabs the attention of the audience.
Might as well wear it now. Leaving his house, he turns off the lights.
His plan is simple. Just rob a couple of people! Nothing extreme or totally dangerous. Before he can walk up to an unsuspecting man, he sees where the mister’s line of sight was. A crime scene that was littered with heroes and officers. Not too long after does he recognize the place.
Your job.
Ripping off his mask, he runs to it. Atsuhiro grabs people to look at their face, hoping one is you. They complain about him as he quickly searches for you. The ambulance carries a couple of crying nobodies that tell of the horrific crime. A rogue hero lost his temper and crashed the place.
Then, Atsuhiro sees you on the ground. Still behind the yellow tape, he pushes past people to get to you. No, no, it can't be you! Not now. Not here. Not like this. As soon as he touches the tape, a hero in blue grabs your shirt, easily lifting you off the ground. “Ain’t this a pretty pity?”
Your neck cannot support your head. It dangles and your eyes meet his hazel ones. You don’t blink or move.
“I love you.” Is what you mouth. Atsuhiro screams that you’re still alive. The hero carrying you so disrespectfully, whips around. Whether it was unintentional or not, that action caused you to hit your head on debris, letting out a sickening crunch.
“Oh shit.”
“It’s whatever. This cannot go out to the public anyway.” An official says next to him. The hero looks down with a sad face. The man in blue tights lifts you up higher and carries you bridal style. As if that is supposed to help anyone.
That is how you were taken from him. By heroes that didn’t give a damn about anyone but themselves. But you, oh you...are something totally different. Patient, kind, the love of his life. His greatest friend. And he never got to tell you he loved you. That you were the reason for his every breath. He lived just for the sight of you. Messy or clean, clumsy or graceful, it never mattered. Dolled up or not, you were a goddess for mankind. It was an honor to have been so close to you.
You're dead, aren't you?
And you loved him too.
Later, your family collected your remains. He attended the service and left without a word.
Weeks, later did he find his laugh. Atsuhiro stood on several stages and performed without a boo from the crowd. This wasn't what he wanted. No, he wanted another form of audience. One that causes him to itch and claw his chest. A scream in his throat that he can't place.
Before he struggled with performing. Could your death have been the cause for this extra flair? The confidence and commanding presence of his is new. He was never shy but he wasn't bold.
Now, his work has changed. And he hates it.
On the news, your death was not covered. The incident went without acknowledgement. The temperamental hero was not dealt with publicly or at all. Your family never got closure for your death. No one has. However, Atsuhiro got information in immoral ways covered in blood. The hero that killed you shared an agency with the other. Apparently, both are on sabbatical. Fortunately, it was nothing for him to find both of them.
Knot and Fury, are their names. Completely tacky. Fury stands by his name as he is easy to set off while Knot had a squeaky-clean record. Atsuhiro doesn’t believe that for a second. The way Knot handled you said it all.
First, Atsuhiro wants to deal with them, then the agency. How irresponsible could they have been? Do heroes not check up on themselves? Letting bastards like them run the streets is insane.
He stalks the one that was in blue, Knot. The one that killed you. Don’t misunderstand, it is possible that you were a dead person anyway; that isn’t the issue. The issue is that he did kill you. This so called hero grabbed you without a care, didn’t even attempt to save you, killed you, and of course, instead of helping you the gross bastard commented on your looks.
Pretty pity. Knot had said that to you. Who does that?!
Atsuhiro watches him enter Fury’s obnoxious looking house. So, Atsuhiro waits for them to have a sense of security. Why not? Surely that is how you felt when you saw them. Believed you were safe until terror struck.
Finally, a few hours later, he enters the unlocked house to deal with them. Lounging around with beer, the two say nothing. Knot has his head down, almost like he is ashamed. But Atsuhiro does not believe him. Fury is frowning and tapping his finger on the couch.
Fearlessly, Atsuhiro comes before them with his mask on.
“We know why.” And he did it. Painfully, slowly, and happily.
The same day, he had arrived at the agency with a lighter load on his shoulders and a pep in his step. Knowing that he done a public service is a nice feeling. Vengeance for your poor soul was almost complete.
Should the agency suffer from their sins? Maybe not. Then again, they knew of the duo's crooked ways. They knew of your murder and yet they let them go. Where was your justice? Or everyone else's that were present at the time? Why is there so much corruption?
With an exaggerated panache, he appears before the majority of the agency. Releasing marbles of various objects, people scream. He laughs and smiles at the chaos. This is a performance of a lifetime. One question pops up and only once: his name.
“Dearie, I'm Mr. Compress.”
It is a fitting name for a magic man like himself.
This is my favourite thing ever actually OP. I am in love with you this is so good
Based on "The Kiss" by Gustav Klimt
