#‘pattern by me’ as if this pattern is anything new. its just a simple star motif yes lol

[bekolxeram]

Everyone decides to be sad about Tommy spending the holidays alone today. I just want to say, I hate you all. Especially @mmso-notlikethat with this post. As payback for making me cry my way into insomnia, I wrote this on my phone instead of sleeping.

By the time he knocks on the door, Tommy still has no idea what to expect. “Wear something nice, we’re celebrating tonight,” that’s the only instruction he’s received from Evan, his boyfriend once again. Tommy can’t help but smile at the mere thought of finally allowing himself to say that name.

He has a burgundy dress shirt on with a pair of light grey slim fit pants. Simple, but elegant, hopefully properly dressed for this undisclosed commemoration. March is not known for its holidays, so what’s the occasion that calls for such festivity? They did meet last March at the cruise ship rescue, maybe that was it? Or perhaps Evan is having some sort of career advancement? They’ve been back together for just a few weeks, there’s simply not enough time for Tommy to catch up on Evan’s ever so eventful life. To that, Tommy silently mourn the time they’ve lost, due to his own cowardice.

“Hey — Hey,” Evan takes a step outside of the door to greet Tommy with a quick peck on the lips. Tommy lets the younger man drag him into the loft without much reaction, because he’s still confused by the sight in front of him: Evan in his usual navy blue button up, dark jeans and… a Christmas hat?

Inside the loft is a jumble of sparkly festive decorations. To his left, he sees “Happy Birthday Tommy”; to his right, “Merry Christmas”; and deeper into the living space, “Happy New Year”.

“Jee and Mara helped setting these up,” Evan says while taking half of a roast turkey out of the oven. “This one is from Bobby. He said half a bird is enough for the two of us, if we don’t want to suffer through leftover for the next 7 days.” He then sets the tray next to some roasted vegetables and a casserole. “The casserole is from Chimney, but I’m pretty sure it’s Maddie’s recipe. Hen got you a cake. I think she said something about being sure you would like it. We can have it for dessert. Oh, and the champagne is from…”

“Eddie, because he can’t cook.” Tommy cuts in.

“Exactly!”

“Evan, what’s going on here?”

Evan steps closer, taking both of Tommy’s hands into his own, “You told me the other day that you spent your 40th birthday alone… I only realized later that you were probably on your own for the entire holiday season, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, Valentine’s Day. I know it doesn’t come close to the real thing, but I was thinking maybe we could make up for a few key moments that we missed.” He dims the lights in the loft with a remote control and fiddles with something on the dining table. Suddenly, the whole room is lit up with colorful patterns and twinkling stars. “I couldn’t get any firework around here, so I borrowed this star projector from Christopher.”

“Oh… Evan,” Tommy sighs, eyes already hazy with tears.

“I’m not asking you to move in with me or to make major commitments. I’m not asking for anything in return at all. This is… a promise, from me to you. No matter what happens, what becomes of us in the future, I’ll be there when you need me, we all will.”

Evan says earnestly, with utmost conviction in his tone. The clarity in his eyes reminds Tommy of that day at the café terrace, almost a year ago. “I just want you to know, Tommy, you’re no longer alone.”

A few drops of tears escape Tommy’s eyes, but before he can respond, Evan pulls out a mistletoe from his pocket and dangles it over their heads.

“You have to kiss me now.” Evan says with a cheeky grin. Tommy waits no time to capture those smiling lips with his own, kissing him with all the love and gratitude in his heart.

“I love you, Evan. I’m so lucky to have you.” Tommy pulls him into a warm embrace.

“I love you too.” Now it’s Evan’s turn to tear up.

Tommy pulls back a little and asks, “hey, would you mind if we celebrate Valentine’s Day first?”

“Oh, you mean you’re interested in the Valentine’s Night activity?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“Come upstairs. I’ll show you.”

[muirneach]

the sunset star quilt 🌟🌄💛 pattern by me, both machine and hand pieced, and machine quilted.

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER day 1

pairing: siren! natasha x reader

summary: working on a boat sounds like a fun, but what if there is a cold weather?

word count: 3.6k

warnings: heavy manipulation!!!, mind control, toxic dynamic, humping a tail, dirty talk, just smut!, badly written description of what sailors do

an: so the time is here!!!! I’m exited and also anxious, aghh. I’d appreciate any of your feedback and don’t be scared to send me some thoughts! If there are any typos, i sincerely apologize, just let me know and I’ll fix it!

an2: there is a part that was inspired by hp and goblet of fire, i’ve changed most of it, but left some parts, since natasha is siren. felt like it was fitting. and it’s exactly how I imagine natasha’s style of singing.

(italics = your thoughts)

!MDNI!

Enjoy this spooky time and be safe!

Working on a coast was an incredible experience and for such a long time you were happy to have the oppurtunity to see new things, but most imporantily feel new things.

This spontanious work trip helped you with your mental health more than your therapist in years. You didn´t even mind working alone somedays, since your coworkers had some days shift off. You enjoyed those quiet days, where you didn´t even overthink, you just let your thoughts peacefully be and surprisingly they did the same thing to you.

Seeing things, the old things but with a different font was something you never get tired of. Everything was bigger and prettier. Colorfull sunrises and sunsets, bigger and shiny stars. But when the warm and fuzzy wind was changed by heavy rains and scary thunderstorms, you were really changing your opinion and wishing you were back in your comfy king sized bed, watching another stupid show on Netflix. Not everything was so colorful all the time.

Especially when the weather got cold and nothing was so warm and fuzzy as in the summer. When the first storm came you thought that you can hadle it, alone. You did, but barerly.

But from todays morning, you knew something big is coming and nothing could prepare you for that. You woke up and checked your phone, like you did every signle day and noticed you have one unread message, saying that your coworker, Tobias, can´t make it, because he got sea sick, from all the sailing he did this week. Which is little weird since you´re positive he´s been sailing the day he was born. But even the best of us can get sick sometimes. So youre all alone. You let out a big sigh. You werent mad, no. You were just little scared of the storm that might and most probably will come today.

When you finally got up and looked from the window you could feel that the wind was freezingly cold. Goosebumps begin to form on your arms and neck. The cold feeling seeps through your skin deeper, like a stealthy intruder, sending shivers down your spine. It's an icy touch that grips your body, making your muscles tense.

It´s gonna be a long day.

As always you packed your stuff, fuzzy socks, warm coat, another shirt just in case youll get wet. Lastly you took some snacks and a big amout of soup, hoping your heater wont let you down. And last but not least a lots of tea. As your boss always says "Tea and rum is better than a warm coat." Well you dont have the rum, but the tea will do, at least that´s what youre saying to yourself.

When you got to work, you checked all the papers from yesterday, made sure to know what your tasks will be today. And of course you had to check if the boat is in a good shape to sail the next day. It´s a lot of work, but at least you have a job to do. Not like a week ago, where you just sat and watch as the waves hit the rocks for 12 hours. You noticed that even waves have a simple patterns, its was so hypnotic to watch it hit the big rocks again and again and again.

You slowly checked all the papers to not miss anything important and undeerscore everything that you need to do today. You checked your watch and made a mental note to put the kettle on soon.

Youre working here for about a 5 months now and you still havent figured out your routine. Even though most of the times youre still doing the same job all over again, checking something, writing what needs to be fixed, checking the load, or just watching over the boat, you still do everything at the same time. So sometimes (read it as most of the times) you just forget to do the simple things as taking care of your basic needs. When you and Tobias have shift together, you two kinda take care of eachtoher, but when he´s not there it´s just so easy to forget about it.

But today you did quite good job, after checking the lower deck you came back up to unlock the kitchen and put the kettle on. When youre water was getting ready for your favorite and only tea you had here, you wrote some documentary about the first ship load you had to check. Everything was correct and you were happy that you didn´t have to unpack it and count it manually. Your first break of the day fly past very quickly as you finished your tea, that didnt make you feel warm at all. You put the cup in the sink and went on another round of checking the boat lower deck.

As you stood up something red caught your eye in the distance, you took a few steps closer to the window, hoping you would see better at what it is. It was weird seeing something so bright in the distance, where only the gray waves were moving. But to your disappointment, you didnt got the answer, it was probably some coral from the shore. You shake your head slightly and moved to another task.

When you came up you noticed that it was already dark outside, shockingly it was the same tempetrure as throghtout the day. Which was a positive thing.

How long have I been downstairs? What time is it? I didn´t have lunch... again.

As many thoughts at the same time speed through your mind, you heard something under the boat. You just closed your eyes, taking few deep breaths to calm your nerves. You put down the paperwork and the pen you were holding. Making your way to the kitchen, youve notice that you didn´t even drank much water. Cursing yourself, you drink a half of the bottle right away. The fresh water finally hitting your needs. Refreshing shockwave going through your body. Every cell awaken and all of your sences light up. Already feeling better, taking a moment to make soup and overall just refresh yourself. As you´re finishing your food, you hear it again.

Bang.

This time is was way louder, so you took all of your courage to go out and look what it was. Sometimes you were tought, or maybe you just act before you think things through. You were terrified of the dark and most importantly what´s in it, but this time something made you go out. You were surprised by yourself, but you didnt question it, much.

When you got out you checked the boat, slowly analyzing if something is wrong.

Was it an animal? A fallen brench into the water?

"Hello?" You immidietly cursed yourself. "Im an idiot." You mumble as you walk around. "There is no more pathetic and stupid way to die then just say hello to the dark." You mumble under your breath.

After a while walking around the boat a big strike apeared on the sky. And after few second of a complete silence there was a big thunder coming, that made you run back inside. There it was the big storm you were so terrified of. It was way worse than the last time and you were hoping to survive it.

That´s a little bit dramatic, but your heart was pounding fast, your hands started to shake and even in this cold you very still incredibly sweaty, like if you just ran a marathon in the desert. After few hours of tinkinkng you´ll die, the storm suddently stopped, leaving you all tired and scared at the same time. Until youve heard another sound, it wasnt another bang, it was more like a humming.

Maybe someone from the sailors is here? But they are all men. Maybe someones wife? Again, your thoughts are running milions miles per hour.

The humming sounds so warm, like the old days, back in summer, where everything was colorfull, fuzzy and it felt generally so good in your ears. You stood up and without second guessing you step outside. There was complete silence, not a single person outside, The sun slowly coming out, trying to fight those stromy clouds that were showing the only evidence of heavy storm.

As soon as your hand laid back on the door handle a beautfiul voice start to sing a melodic song. You didnt understand it, it was some language you never heard, but you liked it, your brain might not understand the words, but your body understood the melody. And suddenly you didn´t felt cold, it was the other way around actually. Your cheeks were on fire, like you were running a fever, but you didn´t feel bad, no, you actually felt the best you ever did.

When you turn around you saw her. Unbeiebly beaitiful, goddess looking woman. Her hair was red, not like an apple red, more like a bright fire that is keeping you warm at the coldest nights. Each strand seemed to catch the sunlight that was finally going up, setting her aglow with a vibrant, fiery aura. Her green eyes were pierced at you, she was looking at you, waiting for your move. But you just stood there and watched her, your breathing started to speed up. You tried to remeber evertything about her, but as soon as your eyes fell lower, you noticed how light her skin looked. It reminded you of a fresh marble that was just ready to be cast in. But what caught your off guard the most, was her tail. You´ve never seen aynthing like that and it was very obvious, because youre face made it very well known. It was mixed feeling between shocked and amazed. The siren's tail was a fluid masterpiece, a shimmering blend of oceanic blues and greens. With each sinuous movement, it created a mesmerizing scene.

"Hey sailor." she smirked, her voice sound way raspier than it did when she sang.

"I- I- I´m not a sailor. This is uh not my uh- boat... I just work here." You stutter out, cursing yourself for seeing the prettiest woman your eyes have ever laid on and you ramble out this sentence.

"You just work here? Oh what a pity, I wanted to ask for some help." The red haired frown, which made you feel sad right away.

"I can help! I just... not my boat." You awkwardly chuckled out.

Her eyes immidietly fell back on you. "Oh really? I don´t want to bother since you´re not the sailor of this boat." Her voice sounded so soft, yet harsh at the same time. It was luring you, by every word she said, you felt different emotion each time. A good emotions.

"I mean I´m on a shift now, so teoretically I am sailor of this boat." You smiled, youre pupils were so big and you felt like you were in euhporia.

She smiled softly. Her smile could make a whole army fall to their knees. You knew it, but most imporatnly she did too. But there was only one person she want to fall on their knees. And that person was you.

"Okay then, sailor..." her raspy voice now coming lower to your body, slowly eletrucing you. "I just need a little favor, my tail..." She let out a little whine, completly changing her body language. She didn´t seem so confident, she looked so fragile and sad. And you have to help her.

"Are you hurt?!" You imidditetly walk closer to her. Crouching so youre on the same eye level. She place her hand on yours, looking at you and finally, she bonded. Her touch made you feel cold and warm at the same time. Butterflies flying everywhere not just in your stomach and her eyes. Her captivating eyes has already read you like a whole book. Her eyes were an entrancing shade of emerald, deep and captivating like the hidden depths of the sea. They held an enigmatic allure, with a hint of mischief and ancient wisdom that drew you in, ensnaring your heart and mind.

"A little-" she sigh and looks away. "-maybe you can help me get back, to safety, where no one can find us." The soft spoken woman look at you, making eye contact again, while her hand is still on yours.

"Us?" Your words caught her off guard.

"Yes, us, darling. You know, not all people are kind as you are. Youre the only one who ever made me feel safe. Youre the only one i can trust now. Youre-" she blinks a few times, leaning closer to you. "-youre my saviour. Will you help me, darling? Help us to get to safety? The world is too cruel and we need to decide right now."

This was the task you were waiting your whole life on here. Make sure she is safe, there is nothing else that is more important than this. You nod, still making eye contact.

"I will. Of course!" You nod again, taking this job very seriously, as you felt like you were born for this.

"Say it. Say what you were made to do, darling." Raspiness was now the only thing that you´ve heard. You were less and less interested in your work and your tasks before her.

Before her there was... was there anything before her?

"I will help you. I will help us get to safety." Your eyes scanned her face, hoping these words will help her.

"Thank you my darling, will you follow me? Please?" her eyes were watery, she´s holing back tears and that tears your heart.

"Yes." You say without hasitation.

"Yes, what, darling?" She asks.

"Yes, uh-" suddnely you feel this sensation, your head feels fuzzy and your view is more and more bright. Your words are caugh up in your throat, when you looked at her lips you can see them moving, but your ears cant catch the word she´s saying. But your mind does.

"Yes, mistress." you whisper back as it´s the only thing you can say.

As you closed your eyes for a second, the world around you seemed to blur and fade. The warm feeling never leaving your side.

Time itself shifted, as if you were wrapped in a comforting cocoon. The soft, rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore became a lullaby and there is it was again. Her singing. Her soft and heart warming singing.

When you finally stirred, it was as if you had awakened in a dream. The dimly lit cave, adorned with iridescent seashells and many other decorations, that suited the cave. And there, before you, was a siren of unparalleled beauty, her emerald eyes reflecting the cave's soft luminescence.

"Hello, darling..." she slowly moved towards you "...slept well?" her smirk grew wider as she saw your hand immidietly going between your legs as there was some unbeliveble aching you were feeling.

"I- uh huh" You only nod, not realizing that your hand is going lower on your body.

The siren´s hand falls on your cheeks as she tuck some of your falen hair behind your ear. Not even for a second breaking eye contact. Without second thinking you grab her hands and put them on your body, that was covered in your wet clothes.

"P-please!" Was all you could have said. She just chuckled and squeezed your breasts.

"You don´t even know my name and you want me to fuck you? Aww darling, youre way easier than I thought you would be. So so so easy" She tsked and suddenly, you didn´t felt her hands on you anymore.

"I don´t care!" You yelp as the aching was even worse now. Is this what drugs do to you? You just want more and more and still it isn´t enough.

The siren looked at you shocked, her hand was placed on her chest as a sign of being offended. "Darling, you don´t care what my name is? That´s rude." She pout. Tears immidietly filling her eyes. "And I thought you don´t want to hurt me, yet you´re just like the others." She looked away.

"Wait- No, no, no! Im not like the others, Im sorry! Im so sorry! I want to know your name. Oh gosh I didn´t want to be so selfish!" You grabbed her arm. "Please, tell me your name, I bet it´s beautiful just like you!"

"You think Im beautiful?" Her green eyes falling back on you.

"Very." You nod.

"It´s Natasha." She wiped her tears.

"Okay, Natasha. Im sorry for being selfish, It was really mean, let me make it up to you, please." You felt so sad, like every joy just left your body forever. Like you didn´t even experience a single happy thing in your life. Like everything was just dark.

"You´re right, you did act very selfish and mean. And you should definetly make it up to me, (Y/N)." Natasha seems so small right now, like a small fish in a big dark ocean.

"Anything you want, just please- forgive me." You basically whined at this point.

"(Y/N), you truly hurted my feelings, I don´t know. How can i trust you not hurting me again?" The horrible feeling of guilt is forming not just in your stomach, but also in your head now.

Natasha looked really hurt by your words. And you felt like if you´ll lose her, you´ll lose yourself, forever.

You squeezed her hand. "I will never. How can i prove it to you? Please..." You knew this will work. "... mistress, let me prove to you, I won´t ever hurt you and Im truly so sorry!"

Her eyes shifted, her pretty green color in her eyes just dissapeared and turned into black.

"Take of your clothes. They´re wet, you will get sick. Aren´t you cold, darling?" At her words you did feel the cold breeze. Actually you were freezing.

"Y-y-yeah, Im freezing." You said while your teeth chattered.

"Oh, darling! Clothes off, righ now!" She ordered and you did as she told. "I don´t want you catch a cold!" Her voice was caring, so caring you didn´t think you deserve it, after how mean you´ve been acting towards her.

As you stand there, completly naked the shivering didn´t end, it got even worse and your nipples could cut dimonds now.

"You´re still cold? Oh, darling, come here." She pointed at her tail. "My tail is warm, it´s gonna keep you from freezing to death." Her smile could cure everything negative thing in this world.

Without second guessing you almost jumped at her, your hand wanting to touch her tail, but you stopped yourself. "May I? Mistress?" Natasha just nodded. You hand immidietly touching her tail.

It´s so soft, oh my god and warm! So so warm.

"Sit on it, darling." She take your hands and guided you on her tail. "It will make you warm, so warm, it will end the shivers, I promise."

So you did. You sat on her tail and if you felt tingles everywhere before, then now there are tignles even in places you don´t have. Running your fingers along its sleek, supple surface was like caressing a piece of heaven. Its velvety texture and gentle, soothing warmth enveloped you in a sense of euphoria, as if you were touching a living embodiment of comfort and enchantment, a sensation that melted away all of your less important other thoughts.

Natasha noticed you´re still shivering and put her hand on your hips. "Darling, if you start to move you will stop shivering. Fast friction makes heat and you really need to be in heat now, darling." Natasha was right, her words were exactly what you needed, but you just didn´t know how.

How can I do this? I don´t want to hurt her tail.

"You won´t hurt my tail, darling. I will guide you, okay?" Her strong hands squeezed your hips and slowly made you move back and forth. "Just like that, you´re doing so good."

After a little while you start to get the hang of it and you felt that amazing friction again. Everything started to feel so good, all the lost joy, all the good feeling are back. All the happy thoughts.

"Oh my god- it´s really working!" You screamed.

"I know, darling. I can feel you on my tail. Keep going." She wispered in your ear.

You did. Oh boy, you did. You moved your hips back and forth faster and faster. And at the same time it got easier, maybe it´s the tail, or maybe it´s the fact that your juices were all over Natasha.

You definetly felt the heat.

Few moments before you came and let all of your juices on the siren´s tail, she started to sing again. In the same language you couldn´t understand before, but you can now. It´s like you know the song all your life.

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing alone in the dark,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We're gonna take what you'll sorely miss,

But not for long you gonna think,

Let us help, and you won´t sink.

Your life might have been so perfect,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

After the red head stopped singing, she looked at you and finally closed the gap between you two. Your first kiss was a moment of exquisite tenderness, a meeting of souls that overlap the boundaries of land and sea. As their lips brushed together, it was a gentle, captivating exchange of warmth and desire. In that soft, lingering kiss, they found a connection that was as deep and boundless as the ocean itself, a love that defied all expectations and left you utterly in her arms.

"I forgive you, darling." Natasha said and you knew, you found your life task. As she holds you close on her tail your eyes fell back into the warm fuzzy feeling, you didn´t mind be in forever.

Hope you enjoyed first day of KINKTOBER!

Thank you for reading!!!

[angeliqueiguess]

Hidden Notes (mk.l)

002. Who Are You?

After several days, Y/n still couldn’t get those yellowed papers out of her mind. They seemed to call to her, their worn corners and faded ink whispering secrets she had no right to uncover. Yet, there they sat on the coffee table in front of her couch, daring her to make sense of them.

With a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands, Y/n finally gave in to her curiosity. She settled into the couch, exhaling a deep breath that filled the small apartment with an air of anticipation. Carefully, almost reverently, she began unfolding the notes as if they were delicate artifacts from a forgotten past.

The handwriting was erratic, almost frantic, as if each stroke of the pen carried the weight of untamed emotion. Some lines were jagged and haphazard, spilling out beyond the margins, while others were neat and deliberate, as though the writer had tried to regain control of their thoughts.

She smoothed out the first sheet on her lap and began to read:

"The nights are long, but the dreams are longer. I keep running, but the shadows always catch me."

Y/n furrowed her brow. The words were hauntingly poetic yet deeply unsettling, like a glimpse into someone’s most vulnerable thoughts. She felt as though she were intruding on something private—yet she couldn’t stop.

The following pages were less refined, filled with fragmented phrases and scattered thoughts. But as Y/n continued reading, she started noticing a pattern. Each piece seemed to be part of a larger whole, like puzzle pieces waiting to form a complete picture—or verses of a song yet to be finished.

One page, its ink darker and fresher than the rest, bore the ominous words:

"The sky turned red."

Another referenced a stranger:

"She holds the key."

Running her fingers along the frayed edges of a torn sheet, Y/n spotted something written in tiny, precise letters at the bottom corner: Mark L.

“Mark L.,” she murmured aloud, letting the name roll off her tongue as if speaking it might summon some kind of answer. Who was Mark L.?

Intrigued, she sifted through the remaining pages with new purpose, scanning for any other clues. On a particularly worn sheet, she found what looked like the beginning of a chorus:

"Run fast, breathe deep, The past can’t catch me. But every road I take Leads me back to the pain."

Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words settle in her mind. She could almost hear a melody accompanying them, faint and elusive, as if it were hiding just out of reach. The lines felt strangely familiar, like an echo of emotions she couldn’t quite place but had felt before.

Among the pages were small sketches—stars, arrows, and what appeared to be a rough drawing of a guitar in the corner of one sheet. Simple, unpolished, yet full of personality.

The most striking piece, however, was scrawled on the back of an old envelope:

"In the cracks, I find myself, A broken heart on a dusty shelf. If someone finds these words someday, Will they understand or throw them away?"

Y/n leaned back against the couch, holding the envelope lightly between her fingers. These words weren’t just idle musings—they were a plea, a question hurled into the void, hoping for an answer. “Who are you, Mark?” she whispered, her gaze fixed on the ceiling as if the apartment’s walls might offer her some insight.

But there was nothing—only the hum of the refrigerator in the next room, filling the silence.

Determined to learn more, Y/n grabbed her phone and opened her browser. She typed “Mark L.” along with “writer,” hoping that something, anything, would come up. As the search results loaded, she repeated the name softly to herself, as if saying it aloud might bring her closer to the truth.

At first, the search yielded nothing useful. There were too many Mark L.’s—none of whom seemed connected to the notes. But she wasn’t discouraged. Something inside her, a mix of curiosity and an inexplicable sense of duty, urged her to keep digging.

For now, she set the notes back on the table. Yet, even as she moved on to mundane tasks—washing dishes, adjusting the curtains, organizing the kitchen—her thoughts kept drifting back to the mysterious Mark L. Whoever he was, he had hidden these words deliberately, as if hoping they’d someday be found.

The apartment no longer felt like just a blank slate for her new beginning. It was alive with the weight of a mystery. The walls seemed to hum with secrets, and Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was waiting to be discovered.

As she stared at the scattered pages on the coffee table, she made herself a promise: she would find out the truth. Not just for him, but for herself. This wasn’t just a distraction—it felt like a connection to something larger, a bridge between her story and his.

The apartment wasn’t just hers anymore. It carried a piece of Mark L.’s history too, and Y/n was determined to uncover it, piece by piece.

previous // next masterlist

taglist open: @thegracerammy @kittydollzz

credits: @strangergraphics (dividers)

[themarginalthinker]

Velleity

Star and Paul meet again after the pack has left Santa Carla. Some things change. Some things don't.

-

Technically set in Flight Feather's timeline, but a scene we don't see.

She wears a silver knife on her hip.

Pretty scars dot her arms, in patterns he recognizes from astrology books, and the night sky above them. Constellations carved into her skin. Her hair wild and dark like a bramble patch about her face, framing crystal-clear eyes that watch his every move.

"Harris."

He's leaning against a railing on a hill, overlooking the town, smoking. Just a cigarette, nothing laced with anything that would round out the world. Just something to keep his mouth busy.

Marko is off, doing what he came here to do. Seeing his human mother. Paul didn't want to follow.

It's only been three years since they'd seen her. It feels like a lifetime, somehow.

He takes the cig from his mouth, and smiles, just a little.

"Thompson," he replies.

Star comes closer, and he can tell she's changed. Even without seeing how she moves like she never has before, he can tell, that little unnamable sense in the back of his own supernatural head knowing he's in the presence of one of their own.

Her footsteps are nigh-silent even on the patchy gravel of the lookout ground. She isn't wearing shoes, he notes. Bare feet. On her legs, just under her long, flowing skirt where it billows up with every step, he can see more scars - different star patterns.

"You cut your hair," she says, dark eyes roaming over all of him.

Star comes close, and stops. For a long moment, they look at each other, and its impossible to tell what's passing between them.

Were it any other vampire, Paul might think she was sizing him up. Wondering what foul little magics he was keeping under wraps only to pull out if the physical fight went bad, or how to best ask for a roll in the bushes. In those ways, he was glad their kind desired very straightforward things like that. It was easy. Simple.

But he knows her - even now, with three years of time between them making a stranger from the mold of a friend, he still knows her in that regard.

Enough to know he doesn't know.

Star reaches out, and plucks the cigarette from his fingers. She lifts it to her own lips. He lets her.

"You grew yours out," he replies, looking over the dark mane, that indeed was even longer than he remembered, now to her mid-back. There were braids and little glinting chains with tiny shells braided into sections of it.

She smiles.

"You're back in town, I see," she says conversationally.

Paul shrugs. "Not for long. Marko's visiting and I'm just keepin' him company."

She raises an eyebrow over an eye sharper than he'd ever had the fortune to see it before.

"Family," he says by way of explanation. He doesn't elaborate.

She takes another drag, and doesn't mask her surprise, but also doesn't comment further.

She hands him back the cigarette. He tastes something other than smoke on it, and he gets the feeling that if Marko were breathing it in, with his bane, he'd get burned lips.

Paul breaks eye contact first. Hers like two pools of pure night, like a sky with no stars, like all the deep places of the world that either had never seen sunlight, or knew a sun from a time before the world was the world. Something making him bow his head under her stare. Something new.

Something powerful.

"So, the old witch made her self a new one, huh?" He says, only a little dryly.

Star crosses her arms, and Paul sees she's still got the habit when defensive. "The Widow saw fit to take me in as her progeny, yes."

"So what does that make you, then?"

When Star smiles this time, it's with teeth that are knife sharp and absolutely lovely.

"It means, Paul, that she likes peace and quiet. And so do I. Mind your manners."

Something passes between them, and now Paul can recognize it.

Star now had power, and this was no longer their territory...but hers.

"Well, I'll make sure to say grace before tucking in, then," he says sweetly, clasping his hands together in a mockery of the gesture.

The cigarette is burned out. He flicks the butt away, to meld into the rest of the litter and detritus filling the potholes in the old pavement.

"...How's the kid?" He asks, at length.

Star is quiet. For a long time, she's quiet. Her eyes drift from him, out past the guardrail to the rest of the world. Out here, you couldn't hear the ocean, too far into the land, but with their senses they could still smell it. Paul finds that he's not sure it's the comfort it once was.

Star's shoulders slump.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in a long time."

Paul watches her, her tight, unhappy expression.

"He's better off. I was always a terrible mother."

For just a moment, they're suddenly back in the cave. It's a bad night, when Star is having thoughts bleaker than grey clouds over choppy waters, no one wanting to come close, but he's at her side, trying to convince her that the stars are still shining out there if she'd just fly up to find them.

"You left him," Paul says, tonelessly.

Star glances at him, and then sets her arms over the railing. Looking out over the town.

"He's with my grandparents. Without me, there won't be any reason for screaming matches that he'll have to sit through, about things he doesn't understand and is too young to be hearing about."

"Without you, there won't be anyone," Paul says, before he can consider not doing so.

It seems he perhaps should have, in this case. Star's eyes turn to him again, now tight with anger.

"You don't know them. They're good people, better than me. He'll actually have a future with them!"

"Star, you're still his mother-"

"I didn't want to be!" she hisses, her eyes flashing in the light, hard and cold and aching.

Paul stands his ground against her. She glares at him, and then, all at once. She falters.

Her hand comes up to her face, a fist against her forehead. Like she can keep whatever is inside there, but it doesn't work. Paul knows her. It never did.

"I let him drown that night on the beach, Paul," Star says in barely a whisper. "I saw him in the water. I knew."

She brings her hand down, and looks at it. The fingers that are half-way to claws.

"And I didn't go get him."

There had always been...suspect. Paul had felt it, only distantly, only ever in the far back of Dwayne and David's minds, when Star had found them. When she'd seen what had become of her child. Paul never put much real thought behind such a notion.

But then, Paul never thought much.

Around them, the summer is just over its peak. Late August, before the days begin waning in a noticeable way. There's no one out this late at night - early in the morning. Even the town below is silent from here.

Paul thinks, that if this was a night for it, he could lay back as he does at the haven, and just spend the night watching the sky above turn on its axis.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls another cigarette. The flick of the lighter is like a gunshot in the night.

"You never claimed, for all your humanity, to be a good person."

"No...I didn't."

[indignantlemur]

Hiiii! So Dagmar has a new earring made out of a metal/alloy she couldn't identify. Do you want to give us the director's commentary about Andorian metallurgy?

Hello! I'm keeping some of this purposely vague because Dagmar herself isn't a metallurgist or geologist, but I can certainly offer some info!

Throughout Star Trek we hear about all kinds of strange compounds, from complex medicines to raw materials. It makes sense that alien planets have elements that have not been documented on Earth. Additionally, I wanted to further emphasize how strange and alien even this part of Andoria was - and how that strangeness could also be beautiful.

One of the things that occurred to me is that Andoria is a very damp planet, even while frozen. Rust would be a significant issue with anything iron or steel-based, but what if there was a native alloy that was resistant to oxidation and salt-damage? It would have to be able to hold the same kind of edge and be equally if not more durable to hold up to an Andorian's strength.

Okay, sure, now we've got an idea, but what does it look like? I've had the Andorian seas on the brain lately, and I was looking at this beautiful piece of abalone shell and thinking about how the patterning reminded me of the patterning you can find on Damascus steel - and then I thought, well, why not both? Maybe the process of creating this metal, this strange alien alloy, involved a great deal of hammering and folding and hammering and folding, just like it did in Human history. Maybe something happened to the alloy when under high heat or during the quenching process to create that unique sheen, and the Andorians thought it was beautiful - ice made into a weapon so sharp it could cut through silk like nothing else. Maybe, even though their techniques have advanced and they no longer need to forge this metal in the same way an intrinsic part of the value in this metal was its wavy, abalone shell-like pattern and beautiful colour?

Once the idea had formed it wouldn't leave me alone. I was originally going to have Dagmar wind up with something plain and simple, something utilitarian. Then I reviewed my notes and found myself returning to the thoughts I had about Andorians and art, and how art is a vital part of their culture and traditions. I can't think of any reason why art and artisanal pieces would be important enough to include in every tradition *but* a courtship ring. I scrapped the plain earring idea entirely.

There is a reoccurring theme in Emigre of finding comfort and familiarity and even beauty in the strange and alien. Hopefully, I've managed to further that just a little bit more!

[residentdormouse]

Seeing Stars (And Other Shapes) Word Tag Game

Profuse apologies @mrsmungus for the delay in this. In true sharing is caring fashion, my children had given me their stomach bug, and I was down and out for a few days. Finally starting to get caught up.

My Words: Circle, Square, Triangle, Heart, Star

Since we’ve covered the alphabet, our colors and shapes, we should probably start on our counting.

Your Words: One, Two, Three, Four, Five (substituting up as needed)

As Always, this remains an -Open Tag- for anybody looking to join, although unlike our alliteration train, this is traveling an unclear path moving forward. What’s next? Who knows. Seeing our pattern, my three year old may advise better than I... 🤣

Circle:

(One of the only times I go for Flagg’s perspective. Wasn’t a place I wanted to linger long, let’s be honest 😂)

The cell didn't leave much room to maneuver. So many steps had been taken to avoid this in his lifetime. Years dedicated to its prevention. He would not be caged or taken advantage of. Never again.

But now the walking dude could barely pace a circle in his new found space.

The cubes around him held a variety of creatures. Things he himself had never seen before. And then there were things he recognized with little doubt.

Flagg glared at the same sentinels he had trusted. Slavers in some of the others. Prior residents of his New Vegas. His self-created paradise. A flash of red hit his eyes at just the mention of the place. His realm and his folly.

Once more, his fist smashed against the glass, obstructing his view of the creatures. Because there was no question now; they were like him. They were something more. Something under all that, a connection just outside his grasp. Beyond his current knowledge. A connection of crimson and destruction.

Square:

The TV was already turned off, the portable music player and headphones he wore were now resting on the table, and the last thing left was to throw a blanket over the small child. Once everything around him was peaceful and squared away, she went into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for herself.

"How was Lloyd?"

'He said they know about him. Who he was.'

The idea threw her for a second. Hell, she barely knew who Lloyd was, and she came here with him. For people here to already know… And how exactly did he find all this out…

"Is he sure? How does—?"

'Max.'

Three letters, but it said all it needed to. She knew Max just as long as Lloyd, and while his past in Vegas was more threatening in appearance, the girl, one who by all logic should be a savior-hero type, seemed to be more of a menace than anybody else she knew. Well, practically everyone else. But her interactions with their nightmare man were limited in comparison to the others, and Harold… well, he had his own problems too.

Triangle: (Shape)

(I got nothing. No triangles in this world. Maybe I should go write some Gravity Falls stuff real quick. Replaced it with ‘Shape’ since there seems to be no other actual simple shapes listed that I can find at least…)

The closer the figure came, the more irregularities she picked up on. The sagging skin, eyes that had just the slightest red shine to them. Eyes like she saw in her nightmares.

The pair of them continued to backpedal slowly, their sight never leaving the prowling shape. A small amount of distance was placed between them, until she backed into something solid. Solid, but not static. Pliable. Only slightly, but it moved as she hit against it, and the thought made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Her breath caught in her chest as she turned around to see another figure, the red shine taking over dead looking eyes, coarse hair poking out around its eye sockets. She didn’t have time to process anything further.

Heart:

"You own a cabin?" Scribbling started on a blank page.

"I don't think, just in my head."

"What's all in this cabin?"

"Lots of books, some pictures. Hey! I think Glen painted this one." Instinctively, his smile reflected the one shining on her face, but otherwise, Glen remained silent.

"So we're after Trips, then?" Disappointed with the development, Stan muttered it more to himself, but still turned to Glen for confirmation, "...you met her after Trips, right?" Nodding affirmatively only prompted Stan to close his notebook and sink back on the couch. "I'm not really sure what to try next. I was hoping something there would work."

Looking back at Hayden, his heart sank. Was this really it? He was hoping to give her some answers by the end of this. Would be a lie to say he wasn't damn curious himself, but that was secondary. He wanted her to know, even if it didn’t help them. Especially if it didn’t help them. Once she knew what was there, she may be able to let it go. Or they could begin actively dealing with it. Either way, it had to be better than the purgatory she kept herself in. Whatever they found, though, he believed what she told him before: regardless of what was found, she wanted this life here with him. And he was coming to realize he wanted it just as much.

But he also knew, until they tried everything, she wasn't going to give up on this.

"Hey, Stan, do you mind if I give it a shot…?"

Star:

(A bit longer, but I love writing Harold and Glen bickering. Non-canon fun time.)

"Well, that metaphor leaves a bigger question. If that fucker was just the knife, who exactly stabbed us in the first place."

Max gave a sly smile as she checked in on him. "Oh, gold star for you sweetheart. Truly." The two shared an unspoken exchange of expressions that neither Hayden nor Glen could miss, but it faded shortly after it appeared. “While I’d love to delve into the shit show that your world is clearly immersed in, I’m still waiting for some clarification here myself. And to be honest, think I’ve been pretty damn patient about it to this point. So spill.”

Glen felt Hayden turn her attention to him as well. “If everything’s falling apart regardless, I think I’d like to know it all too…”

His other free hand went over to fall on hers. “Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

A smile was sent her way, the only gesture that he could give at this point. It seemed to be enough though. Her shoulders released the tension that had built up, and he could see a new calm taking over her features.

His train of thought was derailed as a pizza combo flew in front of his vision. “Hey! What’d I say about that shit!” Another shot back and bounced off Hayden’s head. “Story time. Start talking.”

Harold grumbled as he turned back around in his seat. “Like he really needs the extra prompting… Give Bateman the floor, and he’ll pontificate until your eyes roll back in your skull and your soul shrivels up and dies…”

Unable to hold it back, a light chuckle at the commentary escaped him. “Fuck you too, Harold.”

[first-impressions-gaming]

Howl

Developed by Mi'pu'mi Games GmbH

Published by astragon Entertainment

Release Date 2023

Tested on PC (16 GB RAM, Ryzen 7 7735, RTX 4060)

MSRP 14,99 USD

Clear-cut, straight-to-the-point, pure gameplay with no frills games are hard to come by with unique experiences. When hundreds of games are released each week, it is crucial to stand out, let it be the game’s story, mechanics, IP, graphical fidelity, what it offers and as such. Howl is a tight-knit experience that ticks all the boxes which makes a game fun, worthy to play and enjoy simple mechanics in a turn-based style.

Turn-based games are most of the time swept under the carpet these days unless we are talking about a legacy franchise such as Sid Meier’s Civilization or Persona. Even one of the most benchmark-defining series has gone full action in recent years, which is Final Fantasy. 

Howl is a story of a deaf villager who sets out on a journey to take out this unknown malicious evil enemy that has spread all over her hometown which is overrun by a plague which spreads through howls by turning those who hear howls into feral monsters. Our heroine is out there to find a cure and get to the bottom of it, we fight our way through dozens of level and progress step by step. The story is narrated by a third person narrator who speaks shortly, a couple of sentences at max at the beginning of each level, giving you small and short detail about yourself, the adventure you’re on, how much you’ve progressed up to that point. 

The highlight of the game is, naturally, its turn-based system which works so well from different aspects that I’ll touch upon later. In each level there are enemies, these are the beasts that are in your way to the exit of the level, you fight with them with your basic abilities, skills and try to counter their attacks and character-specific abilities. At the end of each level, the game has this rating screen out of 3 stars, in some levels there are civilians to be rescued as well. This rating system basically works like how many rounds it took you to complete the level, whether or not you killed all the monsters and rescued all the civilians. You may say “but it could take me a lot longer if the game requires me to kill enemies and rescue civilians and complete the level within given amount of rounds”, for this reason the game allows you to replay levels, and you can get 3 stars by playing a level a couple of times, instead of one go. If you ask me, this rating mechanic is not that significant and the game does not hold this against you in any way, therefore feel free to complete a level and get to the next one and not deal with a level over and over again.

The game has two prominent currencies which are “Skulls” and “Confidence”. Skulls are earned by killing monsters and these can be used to unlock alternate paths on the map and new skills. Confidence points are obtained by completing levels within specific requirements based on level, and these are used to unlock abilities and upgrade skills.

As briefly mentioned, each level requires you to complete within given number of rounds to earn 3 stars, a ‘round’ is not just a movement of a character or action point. A round is made of 5 action points regardless that you choose to play 1 action point or 5 points or anything inbetween. Let’s say that you wish to attack an enemy, and it takes 1 action point and don’t do anything else, in another scenario you attack an enemy, you move 3 tiles and use a skill, which uses 5 action points. Both of these plays count as 1 round. In a nutshell, you learn to optimize your rounds by playing same levels a few times and you get to understand the movement pattern of your enemies, which lets you foresee their possible actions and find the best way and path to eliminate them one by one and complete the level in the least number of rounds as possible. When you deal with multiple enemies at once and you are overwhelmed by them and you cannot find the ideal way to approach them, you got to try different paths and basically it is trial-and-error at that point. This does not mean that enemies’s movement is randomized though, the instruction tells that an enemy will always approach you with the shortest path and primarily horizontally. With this in mind, you can organize and predict enemies’ movement better and you can make the best of a round as you get the hang of it.

If you feel challenged in a certain level, you can enable Assist Mode.

Each enemy has a different range of awareness, once an enemy is alerted, it will be out there to get you, that’s why you should avoid alerting all the enemies or more than one at the same time, and attempt to eliminate them one by one if it is possible.

Thanks to your abilities, you can remove obstacles out of your way, these include bushes, thickets, rocks.

And now check out the importance of decision-making in a round and guessing the movement of enemies, utilise your 5 action points in a round as much as possible and take advantage all of abilities available to use.

Howl offers a fantastic game experience with remarkable turn-based tactics which are easy to grasp and get better at it over time.

[dearcraziness]

Chapter 53.

The windows were opened wide, meeting flakes of white snow. The friends had breakfast in the kitchen and didn't feel the cold from the street, but the airing soon ended - Bendy closed the doors and turned the handles to their original position. He returned and began to wash the dishes, having heard words of gratitude for the excellent, divine, delicious dishes from the others. The young man noticed how Lara remained sitting at the table and guessed what she was thinking. In order to test his arguments, he asked, "Lau, do you think it's better for us to spend the day outside?... It's warm today compared to other days..."

"I don't mind taking a walk, that's just where?..."

"Oh, do you want to visit a new place?... Actually, I have an idea... We watch the stars so often, in winter and summer, different constellations open up in front of us - so why not take a closer look at them?... We'll get a telescope, climb the Purple Mountain, which, however, hides its violets, irises, phlox under fluffy snow, and watch the fascinating dark blue amazing sky all evening... And yet, I'll add new luminaries to my map..."

"But you already have drawn so many of them... Is there any space left?..."

"Of course, sunny, besides, I want to find out even more facts about space objects and their location... And then tell you..."

"I don't remember all the constellations you told me about..."

"I'll remind you, honey, don't worry..."

"I'll forget again..."

"And I'll tell you about them once more, Larry... What do you say, sweetheart?... Shall we devote the evening to the study of objects in space?..."

"It would be wonderful... Where will we get a telescope?..."

"I'll find a way... For now - let's put the items necessary for the expedition into the rucksack..."

And soon the devils finished. Despite a huge number of things, a compass, Bendy's notebook, a pencil and a pen for filling out a map of the starry sky, several sandwiches put in a box, collections of sudoku, thermoses found a place for themselves. The only thing left was finding a telescope. In the studio of friends, there was definitely not such a complex device in structure, so Bendy looked through the Magic Network of stores which own this device. The search was unsuccessful: none of the nearest warehouses had a device for viewing the heavenly expanses. Nevertheless, the persistent young man didn't give up and decided to check if there was anything like a telescope at home. However, even there nothing caught the eye of a purposeful seeker - the imp realized he would need to make the telescope himself with the help of improvised materials and reference tools. First, he looked in the book "How to create a homemade high-quality telescope" all the equipment necessary for manufacturing, and then went in search of it. As it turned out, there were no collecting mirrors for the reflector - telescope, and simple lenses weren't suitable for a professional level of assembly. Moreover, three mirrors were needed - one was intended as a lens for the eyepiece, the other was a mirror - lens and a secondary mirror. Copper couplings, bolts of different diameters, washers, epoxy glue, stainless steel sheets, plywood discs weren't mandatory to get - they were in the storage room, as well as in the large storage. The demon looked through the list of the nearest shops which own mirrors and, fortunately, found one near the center of the City of Black and White creatures. The young man was first convinced of the wonderful pastime of his beloved, and then set off on his way. Bendy was quite resistant to the cold, as a result of which he didn't put on a hat, although he took it with him just in case. The road was going to be long, and the temperature could drop. The imp walked quickly and in ten minutes reached the first five-storey buildings with intricate patterns and pleasant delicate flowers. After passing near the Apple Square, the young man turned the corner and walked along Plumeria Street. Among the beautifully garlanded front entrances, a dark brown door with a glass frame appeared. There was a sign on it that read: "Parts for assembling a great telescope." Bendy went in and saw shelves made of oak. Mirrors of various sizes and diameters were placed on them. Fortunately, the lenses suitable for the future telescope turned out to be in one store, and the young man took them (in the cartoon magic world, there was no longer a monetary system), putting them in his rucksack. Then the path was passed by the young man quickly, because without Lara he wasn't going to look at the great squares decorated for the holidays. All the trees and bushes were covered with snow instead of greenery, except for pines: in addition to the white fluffy miracle, toys were placed on them; they were wrapped in a rain of tinsel and colorful garlands; stars were placed on top of each. Bendy, looking at them, immediately imagined how he and Lara would watch the night sky and use the telescope to examine more distant objects in space. However, first it was necessary to make a telescope, as well as a mount and tripod, and put it in a special case... The demon was thinking about the upcoming evening, while noticing the streets replacing each other, then the outskirts of the City of Black-and-white creatures, the Big Forest, soon the garden of friends...

When he came home, the young man decided not to delay and set to work. He assembled the instruments well, followed the instructions exactly with accuracy and precision. In a few hours the tube was completed, Bendy attached a finder to it and inserted eyepieces. The young man fastened the mount to the tripod and firmly and securely put the telescope. Now the device stood on long metal legs and gave the impression of a real telescope with its appearance. The talented jack-of-all-trades looked at the assembled device with satisfaction and, having detached it from the tripod, put it in the case, when suddenly he heard Boris's voice, "Bendy, I'm looking for a nut... Have you seen it?..."

"Here you go..." Bendy held out the fastener. "Don't you have a suitcase with nuts, screwdrivers and a drill in your room?..."

"Those nuts don't fit, but with this one I can tighten smaller diameter screws..."

"So, you need help?..."

"No I don't, but if anything, I'll call... I only need to make metal platbands..."

Boris looked at the black case, and Bendy, noticing the mechanic's interest, took out the device and said, "I've assembled a telescope... Lara and I will be watching the stars with it tonight..."

"How wonderful... You're doing great, Bendy..."

"Thank you... But, you know, I just followed the instructions..."

"It requires a lot of work and patience..."

"I agree, turned out quite well... I can't wait to show Lara, I think she'll be happy..."

"Especially if you tell her you worked on it yourself... I would also like to make a telescope..."

"Take this one, Boris, any day convenient for you... Except for today, of course; although, it's better to warn, if you're going to take it, Lara and I will need a telescope more than once..."

"Understood... Thank you..."

"I'm going to get ready for an incredible hike... See you soon..."

"Bye..."

The friends smiled and, patting each other on the shoulder, hugged each other in a friendly way. Boris returned to his room and began assembling a completely new device designed to hold other devices. Bendy went to Lara's room. After knocking politely, the young man opened the door, and entered, and noticed her sitting at the table. He came closer to her and, stroking her shoulder and back, announced, "Dear, the device for exploring the celestial space is made!... It remains to make sandwiches and take water for a hike..."

"Good... And where did you get a telescope?..."

"Assembled myself... There are temporarily no telescopes in stores, so I decided to get the parts for it... Most of them were in our studio, except for special mirrors and lenses - I found them in one awesome store, where we'll definitely go together..."

"Wow, darling, I never expected you would make a telescope yourself in one day... Can I take a look?..."

"Of course, sweetheart, you don't have to ask..."

Bendy took the device out of the case and saw how the girl looked at the assistant with interest, which would allow to see the cosmic bodies closer.

"A great telescope, so wonderful..."

"Thank you, love... I'm infinitely glad we'll be watching the stars through it... I'll finish packing the food, will be back in a moment - then we'll start our hike, tulip..."

Soon the preparation was completed, and the beloved, warmly dressed, went outside. The sun disappeared below the horizon: nevertheless, there was no cooling - even the wind didn't bother the branches of trees and bushes covered with snow. The devils joined hands and headed for the coveted Purple Mountain. The sounds of footsteps on a dense layer of snow resounded throughout the neighborhood and were heard in dark corners between the firs of a Large Forest. The demons didn't find it necessary to go through the Forest, since the Mountain was located right next to the grove: blooming in summer and now covered with a snow-white blanket; standing before the Forest. The Mountain wasn't far away, but it turned out to be very high as the devils approached it. Bendy realized there were no special tracks, which meant that the only solution was to go and climb on their own. The young man couldn't let the girl to stumble upon snowdrifts or stones of a gently rising slope, so he took her in his arms and began to climb the Mountain. The snow flew straight into the eyes and face, and the imp carefully threw the hood of his beloved.

"Aren't you cold, honey?..." the demon asked.

"No, but how could I?..." the girl answered.

"I know, I provided special warmth to your clothes with the help of magic, but I was worried if the wind suddenly penetrates you..."

"Don't worry, I'm fine..."

"Wow, what a charming landscape stretches from the mountain!... I would love to draw you on such a magnificent background, sunny, I just have pencils with me..."

"Can't you live peacefully without my portraits, darling?..."

"No, Larry, not a single day goes by without my aspirations to draw you, compose a song about you, write a poem or a story about your wonderful character and delightful spiritual world... I'm absorbed in your hobbies and sincerely wish to share my interests with you; to tell you curious stories, amazing facts; to shower you with petals of love ; to calm your imagination with kind unshakable words and noble brave deeds ; to bestow you with embraces of care; to see your joyful eyes and radiant smile under the rays of sincerity; to brighten up the clouds over your head with a bright rainbow ; to share with you sadness, disappointment, discontent, indignation, bewilderment, surprise, delight, inspiration, happiness, laughter... I understand perfectly well that in life we experience a whole range of emotions, and yet, I promise to contribute to your positive feelings and high spirits..."

"My flame, you know, you are often the cause of my smile and pleasant feelings in my heart..."

"Dearheart, you have no idea how much love, tenderness, care fills my heart... I'm infinitely interested in the events happening around you and the impressions you receive from them... I love our relationship and am immeasurably happy to share every moment with you, to improve my character qualities for you, to become stronger in heart, soul and body... Accompanying you on your life path, giving warm sincere words, supporting you and helping you is the best thing I can do in my life, and what I strive for every day... I'm seized with the idea of decorating our time together with bright moments and pleasant sensations, and, without a single doubt, I'm thinking about adorning our future... I love being around you, sweetie... Love you very much, Laura..."

"Love you very much, too, Bendy... I think our relationship with is developing as well as possible... I suppose it's hard to describe in words my appreciation for all your kind deeds... I express my sincere gratitude to you for your manifestations of deep, soul-warming feelings for me..."

"And I highly treasure, respect your efforts to brighten up other's days, including mine... Your feelings are more precious to me than anything in the world : you are my ray of light, my destiny, my dream... Looks like we're reached our destination..."

"More precisely, you got there and brought me here in your arms..."

"But you also walked at the very beginning of the path, dear, it's worth noting... An excellent view opens from the mountain: I imagine how great it is to admire a floral carpet in summer, during the daytime..."

"An irresistible place... From here, the stars are even more clearly visible..."

"I'll take out the telescope, and we'll discover all the wonders of the magnificent night sky..."

Bendy carefully put Lara on the ground and pulled the telescope out of the case. The young man installed the device on a mount and tripod. Having freed the eyepiece from the protective plate, the imp lifted the tube a little and, stepping aside, looked at his precious beloved.

"Look at one of the fragments of the boundless expanses yourself, starlight..."

"Are you sure you don't want to be the first to observe?... After all, you have assembled a telescope..."

"I yield to you, sunshine... Besides, I decided to make such an incredible device for you, in order for you to discover the hidden marvelous stars invisible to the naked eye..."

"I'll try to see as many celestial bodies as I can..."

Lara bent down and put the eyepiece to the eye. What she saw delighted her: by the smile blooming on her face, Bendy guessed that she was interested in the starry space. A little later, she returned to her previous position and looked at the white bright dots in the sky without a telescope.

"Did you like it, love?..."

"That's not the word... Take a look for yourself..."

"Well, I'm curious which of the constellations I'll be able to see..."

Bendy looked at the sky from a completely new and unusual angle - many stars were easily distinguishable from nearby planets and spread out across the cosmic expanse. Even distant constellations were visible, such as Orion, Cepheus, Centaurus, Cassiopeia, Pegasus, Hercules, Aries, Taurus, Gemini and other constellations of the Zodiac group, Perseus, Dolphin, Swan, Quadrangle, Octant, Eagle, Peacock, Phoenix, Whale, Eridanus, Clock, Goldfish, Charioteer, A big Dog, a Giraffe, a Pigeon, a Hare, a Unicorn, a Painter filled the heart with joy with their impressive glow and delightful construction. Cosmic dust, shining in the glow of the Sun, acquired a special look and brought a festive, elegant atmosphere. The planets lined up along a certain path seemed to freeze in the sky, although it was extremely clear that they continued to move in orbit. Dark purple stripes in some; red, orange, light pink shades in others; even a black speck in some excited the imagination, forcing one to think about the reason for the appearance of unusual colors on the planets. It was as if the light coming from outer space transferred little-known deep mysterious iridescences and reflections into Bendy's eyes: he looked at celestial objects with pleasure and ecstasy, smiling warmly and pleasantly.

"How astonishing, delightful, marvelous, fascinating and splendid it is to look at outer space through a telescope... I'll certainly put the constellations I have seen on the map... But first I'll get you some sandwiches, sweetheart, if you're hungry..."

"I don't mind a snack... Don't you?..."

"I'll join you later, as soon as I finish completing my constellation map..."

"Well, good luck..."

"Thank you, we'll definitely make sure together whether all the constellations found are displayed on the map..."

Bendy took a pencil and began to draw with precision and attention to the smallest details. While the imp was checking his work with the image of the sky and circling the constellations with a pen, Lara finished her snack and raised her head, moving her eyes from one star to another. The caring beloved took out and put a folding table and a high chair for the girl, the comforts and coziness of a relaxed atmosphere made her heart even warmer. The demon felt very similar happiness to Lara - despite the fact that he was completely immersed in the thought - creative process, he often turned around and looked at her. The last of the notable constellations were pointed, and the imp, taking the map in his hands, approached Lara and invited her to evaluate the work he had done together, and just look at the atlas of the starry sky. The girl agreed and the young man opened the notebook, flipping through dense, significant in size, weighty pages, and the sweethearts began to read, study, understand. Bendy explained to Lara the reasons for the names of most constellations, favorable conditions for observing them, such as: the right time of year or the right part of the world; told about the brightest stars and the history of their appearance. In a word, with his knowledge, he carried her into a mysterious cosmic world; however, he had information on topics in various fields. Having finished the narration, the young man fixed his gaze on the girl and from the expression of delight and curiosity on her face, shone with a radiant smile. He closed the notebook and put it in his backpack, and he returned to Lara again, and sat down next to her, stroking her shoulder and arm, and then hugged her tightly.

"Lau, hope tonight has brought a number of useful knowledge and amazing discoveries for you... We'll certainly repeat such an inimitable magnificent hike on another day..."

"I completely agree... We saw so many amazing stars, and you displayed them brilliantly..."

"Thank you, berry... I also managed to draw your portrait against the azure sky, look..."

The imp opened the notebook on the right page and handed it to Lara. She took the subject for the implementation of creative ideas and was again pleasantly surprised and delighted with the masterpiece done by her beloved.

"It's very beautiful, you've portrayed me wonderfully once again..."

"Thank you, dearie, but in real life you look much more fascinating and stunning... And I'm glad every day I can see the brightest, most noticeable, main star in my life - you... And no light can compare with the light in your heart and in your soul, dear..."

"Your light is quite comparable to mine, my ray... For me, it's much warmer, kinder and closer..."

"You know, my precious, your sincerity, your manifestations of feelings, your kindness, your generosity, your determination, your cheerfulness, your resourcefulness delight me more than the qualities and character traits of others... Of course, everyone is unique in their own way, but only you occupy a special place in my life; only you I think about in the early morning, clear afternoon, cozy evening and late at night... We are connected by soul, and I'm seized by the desire to cultivate our love... Perhaps this is some kind of obsession, but there's nothing wrong with my attachments to you, my aspirations to follow you, take care of you, gently cuddle up to you, pulling you closer to me... After all, I only wish you happiness and am ready for decisive actions for your well-being..."

[conjoinedpubes]

Adventure's of Maern - Chapter 4: Soul Searching

In this chapter; Sister Maern runs around trying many things while making little progress. On my end, a good stop and think occurs over the character's identity and theme. The answer shapes the rest of the adventure.

Maern's Status

Sister Maern is now ~level 46, weapon+8

Fashion: Prophet Blindfold, Commoner's Simple Garb, Bandit Manchetes, Commoners' Shoes

Weapons: Morning Star [Storm Stomp], Godslayer's Seal

Spells: Poison Mist, Heal (I don't recall the 3rd spell, likely Urgent Heal or Rejection)

Talisman: Blessed Dew, Anything

1.The Old Chaos

Liurnia and Caelid are now open for adventure, Maern wanders far and wide. Many trials, many errors.

This part of the adventure has very little continuity, I simply grabbed various interesting items in Liurnia and Caelid. The idea was to test anything remotely thematic or intresting in the attempt to make a more coherent build. As a result, this chapter is mostly just author notes.

2.Liurnia

The following is non-exhaustive list of things I tried to incoporate into the build;

[Lucerne]

Halberd with vertical swings, ran with this as the Main Weapon for quite awhile. Ended up dropping it for the weapon below.

[Scythe]

Thought back to the idea of using the [Festive Set], then it hit me; harvest witch fashion. Combined with never having played with the Scythe weapon class, this instantly sealed the deal - Maern's main weapon would be the Scythe. Having a settled main weapon allowed for a target str/dex stat. In this case; 14/14. The Grave Scythe is a potential replacement. I opted to not use it due to weight and having to farm for it. Still, its on the table depending on how the late-game turns out.

[Two-Finger Heirloom]

I adore +5 stat talismans. With nothing better to run, this became the defacto talisman 2.

[Testu's Rise]

Puzzle rewarding a Memory Stone. Now 4 incantation slots.

[Miriel, Pastor of Vows]

Trains [Blessing's Boon], the first regen incantation. All round incant trainer.

3.Caelid

[Bestial Sling]

Crude and earthy, great with the new fashion theme. Also gave better options for PVP.

[Radagon's Soreseal]

Stats, O stats. Allows one to wield, and therefore test more equipment. Picked up Dectus half while there.

[Traveller's Set]

Traveller's Set for a travelling healer. Would end up swapping in pieces of this set here and there. Fashion continues to be a work in progress.

[Posion Moth Flight], [Poisonous Mist]

[Erdsteel Dagger] with [Poison Moth Flight] was an intresting combo. Cheap damage at this point in the game.

[Sacred Rings of Light]

Since I forgot about [Sacred Blade] existing, this was the first Holy damage infusion source. The actual Weapon Art was great for utility, given that Maern had no ranged attacks otherwise. Doesn't hit very hard, but excellent at knocking down flying monsters.

[Flame of the Redmanes]

Our first source of Fire infusion. Decent area damage, the spread pattern inspired a later incantation choice.

In Summary

Maern now uses a Scythe and elemental weapon options. Talismans are more settled. Off-hand poison shenanigans continues.

Next; Soul Searching in Altus.

[moldspace]

where do you get your sculpt ideas from? i havent made anything in like 2 years and i really want to get back into sculpting but i just dont. have any ideas

Oh man. So this has been sitting in my inbox for a day or two while i chew on it because i’ve realized this is a really hard question to answer!! I asked myself how i’d gotten the ideas for some of my recent work, or the sketches i’m planning out right now, and really… it’s just been me looking at my own work. Copying off my own notes. Asking myself “how can i continue to explore this theme i’ve been working in, with the shape and symbol and color language i’ve already built up?”. And that’s not really helpful advice to anyone else, especially if they don’t have an existing body of work to pull from!

So if a lot of my work right now is inspired by my… past work…. There must be a progenitor, right? An ancestral fish-thing that grew legs and crawled out of the sea? following this train of thought, I realized i really CAN trace my work back through its evolutionary tree. My current polymer clay work, which i classify roughly in my head as my “surrealist-y metaphorical-y tarot-y colorful-y narrative-y stuff” branched off from its great-grandparents at pajamas here, beginning the eventual transformation into what i think of as my real primary “style”, when i decided to give this little human-faced freak bright colors and a star pattern.

But how did HE come about? He was actually a bit of an outlier in his litter, sculpted at the same time as a bunch of little alien creatures. When it came time to paint him, i had gotten bored and was out of ideas, so i decided to rather unthinkingly and spontaneously paint some stars on him, and bam, there it is - the evolution of warm blood, or flight, or a big brain, the one tiny mutation that shapes the rest of the species for all time!

But lets trace it back further. why was i making aliens? Because i was beefing up my creature design skills for a scifi webcomic i had been raising in my head for the past few years. Why scifi? Because my sibling is a huge star trek nerd, and we brainstormed the premise and characters together.

Another example: my current clay work. I can trace most of the forms i’m using right now back to my pit firing days, where the extreme limitations of that medium really informed my work. Pit firing (or MY pit firing, at least) has a high failure rate, and even pottery that makes it through the firing without exploding is still very soft ceramics, and can be broken easily. So i made forms that were simple, sturdy, and that i could make a lot of at a time (so that if i lost a 25% or even 50% of my pieces, it wouldn’t be HOURS of sculpting work down the drain).

But when i was able to start taking pottery classes again and fire in a kiln, some of the limitations of pit firing disappeared. kiln-fired pieces are harder when finished, have a much higher survival chance, and can be glazed. Still, I kept working with the shapes i was familiar with, but with a little more freedom to push them into new things. Those round blobs with faces became slightly more complex blobs with faces, and glazes, and wings and feet!

I’m not sure how much sense i’m making, but i guess what i’m trying to get to is that none of my sculpture ideas come to me “spontaneously”. They’re all a result of an artistic evolution and exploration. Usually, they’re a happy accident that i then decide to run with. And the more work i make, the easier it is the think of the next thing, because i DONT have to make something up out of whole cloth, but continue with the momentum i’ve already built up. This might sound really discouraging, if you don’t have that creative momentum. And it can be hard to build up that momentum! But for me the only way to get ideas has been to make things. At first it might be hard to figure out what to make. What you make at the start might be fairly arbitrary (aliens because your sibling is a fan of star trek) or rooted in the limitations of the medium you’re working with (stout little unglazed faces because you’re pit firing) but if you keep making things, you will start to find these little pathways of inspiration to follow and chase, and before you know it you will be somewhere different. I believe that art always builds on itself. It’s an accumulative thing.

But i can also tell you that i would never be able to put in the time it takes to build up such an evolutionary tree without having fun with it. So that’s my main piece of advice: make sure you’re enjoying yourself! The rest will come :^)

[lenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa]

Favourite colour(s): pink (all shades) especially something like ultra pink (#FF6FFF) or magenta/fuchsia (#FF00FF). something like navy blue, and all colours between that and pink, so basically ourple-ish, are also pretty imo

Last song: dont know if it counts as a song, but BWV 543, Prelude and Fugue in a, by Bach. (Ive listened to this and (almost) nothing else over and over again for the last 2 weeks im obsessed)

[[[Me trying to justify why i like music i like even though i dont have to but im insecure (ignore): My taste in music is extremely weird, but for a variety of reasons, i think almost anything by bach, at least as long as it isnt "too major" or joyfully christian, is perfext for me. Quality is assured, considering hes one of, if not the, most influential and intricate musicians and composers in western europe. I can listen to smth ive never heard before of him, and like it within seconds, because the pace and how quickly the notes and harmonies change is usually very quickly, so my brain cant go adhd mode and be like "this is boring, lets do smth else". Also a piece lasts usually at least like 5-7 minutes, usually longer, so i dont have to find smth new to listen to after just 2 min (though, i wiuldnt have to because i usually listen to the same piece/song for like 10-20 times in a row. Also i never get bored od anything of him, because its so complex and intricate, that theres new stuff to hear and notice all the time. You can listen to the same thing five times but focus on different melodic aspects which completely changes it and ypu notice new melodic lines or patterns that you didnt before, even though they were always there. Also like harmony and melody wise its always extremely good imo. And i just like it mainly because of how simple but at the same time complex it is and all the little patterns in there that are just so logical and make so much sense that it seems obvious, but its still so thoroughly thought-through that its just linda mesmerising. Sorry for this, i can get defensive when it comes to music.]]]

Currently reading: nothing bc i cant concentrate. Havent read any fictional book in 10 years. The last books i read was the warrior cats series (not sure if i remember it better than it actually is/was, but best story out of any books, movies, tv shows or games ive ever seen)

Currently watching: eratically re-watching star trek while skipping lots of things, and watchinf some other things with my ghoulfriend, but nothing new (funny dungeon cooking show season 2 when???)

Craving: usually my girlfriend and/or vatieties of food bc i either havent eaten virtually anything in 3days-1 week, or bc ive eaten the same exact thing every day, and nothing else, for 2 months, bc wverything else feels weird to eat or is too hard to make/get, and its getting tiresome and doesnt taste good anymore and my body needs more nutrients than just cereal.

But atm all my craving have been filled.

Tea or coffee: im guessing iced tea or coffee wouldnt count, orherwise those two in that order. I drink both tea and coffee very rarely, but i absolutely despise coffee, as in normal coffee. Its literally just bitter. But i sometimes drink like some kinds of milk coffee beverages, like latte macchiato, mainly bc of group pressure. and with enough milk and sugar that the coffee itself is virtually nonexistant, and just there as a sort of background flavour that doesnt taste bitter anymore, it can taste pretty good actually. The lnly tea-adjacebt thing i drink when im sick is hot lemonade but i dont think thst counts, so ill go with coffee ig

Mutuals and everyone else thats epic, get tagged!

(Im too lazy to tag ppl rn but pls feel tagged if you see this. Why isnt there an option to tag like all mutuals or a specific group if people on tumblr bc im sure i would forget someone)

Tagged by the angel herself @ladyvalfie

favorite color - Gray, cause I'm that kinda dull bitch

last song - oh fuck what was the last song I listened to that I intentionally listened too ... Black Betty by Caravan Palace maybe

currently reading - I'm supposed to be reading The Locked Tomb series but im a fucking procrastinator.

currently watching - I WANT SEASON 2 OF DUNGEON MESHI SO BAD... but I guess I've been watching The Mandalorian, The Acolyte, and King of the Hill

currently craving - lay down cuddle time with @its-brit-bruh

coffee or tea- I'm an iced tea girl, and to make everyone hate me more I like my iced tea unsweet..

I'm tagging @its-brit-bruh @t-girl-samus @celestesthoughts @sierraisboring

[hellenic-reconstructionism]

Ancient Greek Divination Series #2: Scrying

Inquiry of bowl divination and necromancy. Whenever you want to inquire about matters, take a bronze vessel, either a bowl or a saucer, whatever kind you wish. Pour water: rainwater if you are calling upon heavenly gods, seawater if gods of the earth, river water if Osiris or Sarapis, spring water if the dead. Holding the vessel on your knees, pour out green olive oil, bend over the vessel and speak the prescribed spell. And address whatever god you want ask about whatever you wish, and he will reply to you and tell you about anything. And if he has spoken dismiss him with the spell of dismissal, and you have used this spell will be amazed.

– PGM IV. 223- 243

The quote above is from the Greek Magical Papyri (PGM), detailing a scrying ritual using a bowl, sometimes referred to lecanomancy, or lekanomanteia. Compared to some other forms of divination, it's pretty simple, and is very low-cost! The most important ingredient is water from different sources, differing based on who you are trying to contact.

The other key ingredient is stuff you put into the water; usually olive oil, as an offering of sorts, and to make patterns into which you can gaze.

The spell spoken over the vessel: “AMOUN AUANTAU LAIMOUTAU RIPTOU MANTAUI IMANTOU LANTOU LAPTOUMI ANCHÔMACH ARAPTOUMI, hither to me, O NN god; appear to me this very hour and do not frighten my eyes. Hither to me, O NN god, be attentive to me because he wishes and commands this ACHCHÔR ACHCHÔR ACHACHACH PTOUMI CHACHCHÔ CHARACHÔCH CHAPTOUMÊ CHÔRACHARACHÔCH APTOUMI MÊCHÔCHAPTOU CHARACHPTOU CHACHCHÔ CHARACHÔ PTENACHÔCHEU” (a hundred letters). But you are not unaware, mighty king and leader of magicians, that this is the chief name of Typhon, at whom the ground, the depths of the sea, Hades, heaven, the sun, the moon, the visible chorus of stars, the whole universe all tremble, the name which, when it is uttered, forcibly brings gods and daemons to it. This is the name that consists of 100 letters.

– PGM IV. 223- 243

NN is basically "insert name here". I'm definitely very new to Typhon so I personally do not chant this incantation (though I do hope to research him and write about his worship eventually).

Variations:

Adding lots into the water and drawing - I guess you could make lots from clay, wood etc.? Maybe alphabet stones could be combined with this.

Drawing from a well and interpreting the junk on the surface

Sanctuary of Demeter at Patrai, only used for questions of sickness: mirror on fine cord, let it hang so it just grazes surface of holy spring with its rim; then pray to her and burn incense and look into mirror; shows sick person as either living or dead.

Crystal-gazing could be considered an extension of this (summoning Gods into it usually)

Sources: Greek Divination by W. R. Halliday; The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation by Hans Dieter Betz

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Coffee Cups and Morning Promises // Bucky Barnes

Request: Hey queen!! Since Sebastian has been looking like such a snack in the falcon and the winter soldier, I’m not sure if your marvel requests are open but can I request something fluffy with Bucky? - @whovianwholikesgirls

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I’m sorry it isn't longer, I’m still getting used to Bucky’s character! Anyway, I hope I have done your request justice and I hope you all like! The song that inspired part of this is Bruno Major - Old Fashioned.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, mentions of coffee.

Word count: 1.1k

The radio plays softly in the background as you potter around the small kitchen in your flat. A routine that was never interrupted; these moments in your home were precious – the hubbub of the day ahead wasn’t too far away, already beginning to press in, but this time in your kitchen was yours to take time with.

Humming along to the melody, you replace the coffee beans in your machine, throwing the used beans in the bin. The bitter scent of the coffee perfumes the space; the sharpness helping you wake without a sip of the acrid drink.

Your routines continues as you dance your way to the fridge; far from an expert, but happy to meet the melody as best you can as you pull out punnets of fresh fruit.

At this point in the morning, the sun has mostly risen, its rays already bouncing off the countless panes of glass in the city that never sleeps. Placing a punnet of blueberries on the table, you smile in hope that the sun would hold for the day. There was nothing better than the city you so adored bathed in warmth and light; rain brought with it misery and increased rudeness. At least with the sun, there was a better chance that the rest of your day would be met with better moods all round.

The smell of coffee in your flat is much stronger now, and you know that it wouldn’t be long until you were no longer alone in your kitchen. A lovesick smile spreads across your features as you think of the man currently asleep in your bed. A surprise on both ends, but a welcome surprise nonetheless when Bucky had kissed you at your door and you had pulled him into your home by the hem of his Henley.

A lovesick fool, you suppose you are. A lovesick fool for a man just as in love as you.

The fresh pot of coffee is half full now; the fruit is laid out on the table, and the radio continues to play love songs. There was only one thing left to do.

The coffee mugs sit in the cupboard to the left of the fridge, just above the coffee machine. A wiser person would have settled the mugs on the lower shelf of the cupboard, but when your parents had helped you move into the flat, your father had placed the mugs on a higher shelf and that was where they stayed despite the need to stretch to reach them.

There wasn’t an abundance of mugs in the cupboard; four or five at most, but only two were used often. These two were placed at the front; always within reach, and never given to anyone else. The first of the two mugs was yours; a simple white mug with an elegant botanical pattern stretching around it. After months of use, it fit to your hand perfectly. The second of the mugs wasn’t anything special, but it was his. Bucky had laid claim to it on his first morning in your flat, choosing the navy blue mug decorated with constellations so rarely seen in New York.

You’ve just finished pouring the coffee when your hear his gravelly voice from the doorway. “How long have you been up?”

“Not too long,” You answer, turning to greet him with a wide smile and his navy blue mug.

Bucky takes his drink, taking that all important first sip of the day knowing that it would set him up for whatever he needed to face. It brings him back to life; warms him from the inside out as the acrid taste wakes him, greeting him like an old friend.

Wordlessly, he reaches for you, an arm wrapping around your waist as you melt into his strong, warm embrace. You hum happily at the feel of him, leaning further into him as you sip at your own coffee, taking care not to burn your tongue.

In the comfortable silence of the flat, Bucky presses his first kiss of the day to your head. Sighing in content, Bucky breaks the silence with two whispered words: “Good morning.”

Tilting your head up, you press a kiss to Bucky’s jawline. “Good morning.”

Bucky squeezes your waist once before stepping away, taking another drink of his coffee as he turns his attention to the food laid out on the table. “That’s a lot of fruit.”

You snort, rolling your eyes at the man, “I was waiting for you to wake up so you could decide. Pancakes or waffles?”

“Pancakes… Always pancakes.”

Unable to help yourself, you smile at the man standing so close to you that you can feel the heat roll off him in waves. It was hard to keep your smiles at bay with Bucky; he drew them out of you so often.

“Keep smiling at me like that,” Bucky comments, forgetting any and all conversation over breakfast foods. He couldn’t focus on something like that, not when you smiled at him as if he had forged the world for you and you alone. Bucky wasn’t one to ignore the truth; he’d been through hell and somehow survived, but then and there, Bucky knew he would do it all again if it meant he got to be on the receiving end of your smiles.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Bucky states, poking your cheek.

The smile grows wider; happiness flooding your veins, making you almost glimmer in the early morning light. You hip check the man who had so readily stolen your heart. “Stay the way that you are, and I can guarantee I’ll keep smiling,” You laugh

Bucky purses his lips; clearly thinking over his next words. Eventually, the pensive expression leaves his face – too serious for the morning – and a slow smile takes its place. “Let’s make a promise,” He whispers, the words powerful in the first hours of the waking day.

“What’s the promise?” You ask, eager to know, curiosity your besetting sin.

“I promise to stay the way that I am if you promise to keep smiling at me as if I’ve hung the sun, the moon, and the stars all for you.”

“You mean you don’t do that anyway?” You gasp, placing a hand to your chest in mock hurt. “I expected better, James Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand from where it was laid upon your chest. “Promise me, doll?”

“Alright,” You concede with an overdramatic sigh, but not even you could hide the smile of delight that stretches your cheeks and crinkles the corners of your eyes when you whisper, “I promise.”

*****

Marvel taglist: @angelxnaa @mesmerisedangel

taglists are open, drop me an ask if you would like to be added!

[dickwheelie]

a jonmartin ficlet for @tmafantasyweek, not for any particular prompt, just an idea that struck my fancy.

this was inspired very loosely by @gras-art’s lovely drawings of martin with stars. it’s not the kind of thing I usually write but I had a lot of fun with it so I hope y’all enjoy :)

______________

There was once a man whose job it was to hang the stars in the night sky. If you asked him, he would tell you that he didn’t believe himself to be very good at it, but it was all that he knew.

There was once another man whose job it was to map the constellations. Though it was a simple enough task, for the constellations never changed, the man prided himself on his impeccable work.

One night, the mapmaker awoke to find that the constellations were different from the night before. Irritated and confused, he stomped up to the moon and demanded to speak to the one in charge of the stars.

The starhanger was called, and soon he emerged timidly from his tiny workshop to confront the bristling mapmaker.

“What is the meaning of this?” the mapmaker said, gesturing up at the night sky, where the stars had once been so nicely aligned into neat little columns and rows, but were now scattered, seemingly at random, across the sky. “It’s a mess!”

“Well,” said the starhanger, gathering his courage, “I had thought perhaps it was time for a change. The stars have always been placed just so. But last night, I thought it might be nice to hang them differently.” He looked sidelong at the mapmaker. “You don’t like it?”

“Of course I don’t like it!” said the mapmaker. “You can’t just go around changing the constellations whenever you like. It’s chaos, and in my line of work, chaos is precisely what we are trying to avoid.”

“But doesn’t it get a bit dull, sometimes?” pressed the starhanger. “Mapping the same constellations every night? Look,” he said, pointing at the northwestern part of the sky, “last night I hung those stars in the shape of a dog. Have you ever had the chance to map a dog before?”

The mapmaker was silent. At length, he said, “Well . . . I suppose not . . .”

“It would be a challenge,” said the starhanger.

“I do like a challenge,” said the mapmaker. “The maps are always the same, night after night. It does wear at the skin a bit.”

“Well, that settles it,” said the starhanger, happily retreating back into his workshop. “I’ll keep changing the constellations, and you’ll get to make a brand new map every night.”

Before the mapmaker could say another word, the starhanger had swung the door of his workshop shut, and he was left alone under the suddenly unfamiliar tableau of the night sky.

The following night, the mapmaker awoke to find that once again, the night sky had changed. The dog the starhanger had pointed out was gone, and in its place was a teapot, surrounded by teacups and saucers. Despite himself, the mapmaker found himself eagerly laying out a brand new scroll and setting to work.

By the time the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon, the mapmaker had completed his map, and for the first time in a long, long while, went to bed utterly satisfied.

The following few nights were just the same. Every night, the starhanger would hang the stars in unexpected places, and make pictures when the fancy struck him. The teapot became a sailboat, which became a book, which became a cow. The mapmaker found himself waking up each night eagerly anticipating what new thing the starhanger had made, and setting about mapping it with gusto.

One night, the starhanger hung the stars in the shape of a cat. The following morning he was surprised by a knocking at his workshop door. When he peeked out, the mapmaker stood before him, in a much more enthused manner than last time, and said to him, “Cats are my favorite animals.”

“Are they?”

“Yes! I just wanted to thank you for making one. It was wonderful to map.”

The starhanger blinked owlishly at him. “You . . . came up to the moon just to tell me that?”

“Yes,” said the mapmaker, suddenly very self-conscious. “And to tell you . . . you were right. Making a new map every night, it’s been invigorating. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed my job so much.”

“Oh,” said the starhanger, smiling shyly, “well, that’s very good to hear.”

“You won’t stop, will you?” said the mapmaker anxiously.

The starhanger bit back a wide smile. “No, I won’t.”

And indeed he did not. The starhanger, up until then, had been hesitantly experimenting, but now he decided to roll up his sleeves and give the mapmaker a real challenge.

The following night the mapmaker awoke and immediately dove for his workstation when he saw that the sky was patterned with stars in the shape of a massive spiderweb. From horizon to horizon, there was hardly a gap between the threads, and the mapmaker had to work tirelessly to map them all. At the end of the night he collapsed in his chair, utterly exhausted and happier than he had been in years.

The following few nights, the starhanger left off a bit, hanging less intricate but no less beautiful designs. One night the sky was full of swirls and eddies, as one would find in the ocean or perhaps the clouds on a windy day. Another time the starhanger gifted the mapmaker with more cats, slinking and winding their way across the sky.

Indeed, it had grown to be much like gift-giving. The starhanger was no longer thinking of his own satisfaction when he hung the stars, and similarly the mapmaker was no longer thinking of his impeccable record when he mapped them. Instead, they were both thinking of the other.

Then one night, for the first time, the mapmaker was surprised by something new in the night sky: words, spelled out in neat script. The first message, for there would be others, was brief and self-explanatory: Hello MM!

“Hello, Starhanger,” the mapmaker murmured back, as he rolled out a new scroll.

The messages quickly grew more elaborate as the starhanger grew used to writing with the stars.

Lovely night we’re having!

How was your morning?

I’m getting much better at drawing cats, look:

It’s cold on the moon. I hope it isn’t too cold where you are, MM.

Though everyone on earth puzzled over these messages, the mapmaker of course knew they were meant for him. He mapped the messages carefully and reverently, and spent all night imagining how he would reply to them.

One night, the sky read, I’d love to see one of your maps sometime.

The mapmaker wasted no time in taking a trip up to the moon, and showing the starhanger some of the maps he was most proud of.

“This is the one with all the cats,” said the mapmaker. “I really enjoyed making that one.”

“It’s lovely,” said the starhanger, and he meant it. “They all are.”

“You can keep them, if you want,” said the mapmaker.

“All of them?”

“You’ll appreciate them more than I do, I’m sure,” said the mapmaker. He glanced downwards. “And you’ve given me such beautiful things to look at every night. It only makes sense that you should keep the maps I make of them.”

“Oh,” said the starhanger, “thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” said the mapmaker. “The past few months have been the happiest I’ve ever spent.”

“Really?” said the starhanger, warmth blooming in his chest. “Mine, too.”

The following night the sky blazed with hundreds of stars, clustered together to form the shape of a heart. The mapmaker hung that night’s map on the wall of his studio, and traced it with his finger often.

It was around that time that the mapmaker decided to do something utterly unorthodox and possibly terribly foolish, which would likely end in disaster: he decided to make his own map. A map not of the night sky, or of the stars therein, but from the mapmaker’s own imagination. A map without a guide. It was ludicrous, the mapmaker thought, but it was the only way he could think to show the starhanger what he wished to show him.

It took many weeks, as the mapmaker used his few spare hours of nighttime to work on his own map, careful not to let his official work drop in quality. It was not easy for him to map stars that were not really there, and many times he considered giving up, but then he reminded himself how beautiful the starhanger’s constellations were, and how hard he worked on them.

“If he can do that every night,” the mapmaker chided himself, “you can do this just this once.”

Finally, more than a month after he had begun his task, the mapmaker sat back and stared at the map he had invented, and found that he was satisfied. Eagerly, impatiently, he made his way back up to the moon, and knocked at the starhanger’s workshop door.

The starhanger’s face was like a star all on its own with how brightly he greeted him. “What brings you up here, unannounced?” he asked.

The mapmaker, who was holding the map behind his back, unrolled it with a flair and presented it to the starhanger. “This is for you,” he said.

The starhanger took it carefully. It was a map of the stars, yes, but not based on anything the starhanger had made. It was something new, with imaginary stars scrawled across an imaginary sky.

“I made it for you,” said the mapmaker, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I didn’t know how else to explain.”

The stars on the map formed the shape of a heart, to match the one the starhanger had made for the mapmaker (though this one was a bit more wobbly). Inside the heart, the starhanger could make out many different constellations he had gifted the mapmaker, the dog and the cat and the sailboat, among others. And in the very center of the heart, in wobbly, uncertain script, the stars spelled out, Thank you, Starhanger.

A tear formed at the corner of the starhanger’s eye. “Oh, Mapmaker,” he said, and could think of no more words.

“Do you like it?” the mapmaker asked, wringing his hands.

“Of course I like it,” the starhanger laughed, wiping at his eye. “I love it. It’s your best work, by far, I think.”

“Oh,” said the mapmaker, visibly relaxing. “Well, that’s good then.” And he pulled the starhanger into a hug.

The following night, the mapmaker awoke, looked up at the night sky, laughed, and blushed all the way to his ears. Up in the sky was a single, simple message, of only three words, and though the mapmaker had no trouble mapping it out, he lingered on the constellation long after dawn.

[literate-lamb]

can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics​ and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises. 

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store. 

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night. 

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him. 

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.” 

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops. 

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches. 

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair. 

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date. 

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say. 

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it. 

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days. 

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?” 

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things. 

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour. 

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby. 

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane. 

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka. 

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling. 

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled. 

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago. 

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster. 

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you. 

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.” 

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?” 

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers. 

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors. 

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand. 

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one. 

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore. 

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms. 

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third. 

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?” 

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar. 

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt. 

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world. 

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two. 

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

 “Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry. 

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know. 

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in. 

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.” 

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire. 

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.” 

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers. 

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’ 

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.” 

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.” 

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence. 

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back. 

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed. 

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.” 

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running. 

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear 

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍 

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’ 

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately. 

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?” 

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

���Well, this seems to say otherwise.” 

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt. 

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand… 

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this. 

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end. 

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive. 

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.” 

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—” 

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room. 

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his. 

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his. 

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed. 

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red. 

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds. 

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala. 

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it. 

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you. 

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it. 

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived. 

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself. 

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America. 

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar. 

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said. 

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access. 

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter. 

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes. 

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment. 

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication. 

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.