#I always do this with every art project I do I SWEAR - I underestimate the difficulty ...

[7goodangel]

WHY WOULD YOU DO PJ HES A LIQUID!!!!!😭😭😭

HE SEEMED TO BE THE MOST STRAIGHT FORWARD CHARACTER DESIGN I HAVE!!!

Most parts of the clothing is fairly symmetric

Also the clothing is just scarf, shirt and pants...

No feet - so can skip modeling that!

No hair - so another difficult part to skip!

So it just seemed like a good character to start with... And then after I did the rough sculpt it set in about his blobs on his head....

[my-writings-and-musings]

Same anon thank you for answering my question! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for MTMTE Rung, Megatron, Rodimus, Minimus, and Swerve with an Artisic human reader that just sees the good and creative artist side of everything? From books to pictures to even their own bot? Like they can just look at their bot and go out on a whole rant on how beautiful their optics are from the color to their expression. if that’s too many characters you can take any one, I don’t mind! Thank you and have a good day ❤️

You're welcome! I'm always open for clarification, so feel free to ask questions about whatever you'd like if you're unsure on anything. I took a little liberty with this one, but I've got all the requested bots because darn it all these beautiful mechs deserve recognition!

Rung

·He discovers your artistic inclination thanks to years of experience reading personalities and emotions at a glance, but he wasn't prepared for the depth of your conviction in seeing the world through a creative lens, which he learned upon speaking to you about your process as an artist. This surprise grows as he sees you sketching around the ship, your exuberance for the inherent beauty in everything coming through in every conversation you share.

·When he praises some of your sketches on a quiet day in his office and is compelled to ask how you developed your style, he's fascinated by your explanation, and his spark is warmed by how beautifully you describe the world around you and credit it for inspiring you. He's visibly shocked when your list of current subjects and muses includes him specifically, and you can't help but chuckle at the usually calm bot looking so absolutely flustered. There's no way for him to hide any of that feeling when he requests a bit of clarification; there's hundreds of bots on board, what about him could possibly stand out?

·You're happy to elaborate on your process to a bot who so regularly underestimates his worth and lay out why he in particular piques your interest. The warmth and goodness of his being is such a rare and beautiful thing, you explain, but also so rarely appreciated that it drives you to try and capture that essence in a manner one can see. How could you not? Such compassion and empathy and forgiveness should be remembered! You've also seen that he's capable of accepting any genuine apology, and to have that level of mercy after so much war is beautiful, enough that you have to try and show it.

·To say he's touched is an understatement of unfathomable proportions. Removing his lenses to clear optics blurred with tears, he doesn't even know how to begin processing your praise of his character when you add that his physical self hardly fails to encourage you either. His glasses nearly slip from his hands when he hears you say that. You continue quite easily; the kindness in his optics and the sweetness of his smile, combined with his genuinely handsome profile, simply inspire you to start sketching.

·He's touched, but you have to understand, he is NOT accustomed to this level of praise. Between the near tears and the blushing he has to politely excuse himself to recover from this absolute tsunami of emotions, but being flustered and melted at once is enough to have him smiling through a little blush all day long. While he tries to take a little bit of your mindset into his everyday life going forward, he gets a bit dazed every time he sees a sketch of yours that includes his face, as that level of artistic devotion being dedicated to him is more than he'll ever be able to process. Not that he minds...

Megatron

·Being more familiar with the written word, he enjoys the arts but has little experience with those who create them, and time has not been on his side in regards to learning more. Thus, you're one of the first artistically inclined individuals he's been able to discuss the topic with, which he was motivated to do after catching a glimpse of your work. He could swear some of your sketches bear a resemblance to him, but he says nothing on the matter and is certain his optics are tricking him.

·Your talk of technique quickly surprises him by shifting to inspiration, which to you is the primary driving force of your work, as it influences how you go about conveying the subject matter. Eager to share what you mean, you explain that anything can have beauty worthy of capturing if you just take the time to look at it right. Even the most mundane or seemingly unappealing things can be remarkable if you know their story, and you want to convey that energy as wordlessly as possible.

·A little overwhelmed but quite impressed by your manner of reasoning, he rather jokingly asks if even beings like himself could ever inspire you, or perhaps another artist with your mindset. He's caught off gaurd like never before when you, quite enthusiastically, reply that he most certainly can and does! To keep his composure he recalls portraits of his likeness being commissioned to inspire his soldiers, but never believing these fell under the category of art so much as they did propaganda. They often depicted him quite... violently as well.

·Having never seen these pieces, you reply that your own experience is tied more to how you see him now, and you flip through your sketchbook to demonstrate. As close to your level as can be, he's speechless while you explain what you wanted to capture about him in each sketch, whether it's a quick study or a detailed project; and that's how safe he makes you feel. Hearing himself referred to as a protector cuts straight through his powerful armor.

·You depict him looking almost... gentle? Hearing you describe the his immense size as a source of comfort and his strength as a tool of keeping peace processes about as clearly to him as a foreign language, but he nods along and keeps the conversation going until his duties call him away. Though he says nothing of it, he volunteers himself for more of the physically demanding work around the ship. His body's purpose had always been decided for him, but you've reminded him he has the only true say in its use, and that everything really is a matter of perspective. Perhaps he'll take up sketching once this is all over.

Rodimus

·He's certainly always had an appreciation for visual appeal, even if his idea of beauty doesn't often overlap with what most would consider artistically valuable. This and his natural alertness makes him quick to notice you often sketch about the ship, frequently when he's present, but at first he leaves you alone to work in peace. Having a hobby on this crew is beyond valuable, and he doesn't want to distract you from a passion... That is, until he decides on one especially slow day to just ask you what you like to doodle about.

·You can tell he wants to be a little nosy, if only because he's naturally a curious bot about these things, but you're more than happy to share regardless. There's a lot due to the ample downtime on the quest, and he has to squint so he can properly scan the many sketches on the human sized paper. He happily recognizes friends, locales about the ship, even earth things he knows about... but he's not ready when he finds a picture of himself.

·While he remains outwardly playful, teasing you with how he'd pose if you only asked, he's internally flattered that you took the time to draw him. More specifically, he's touched by the way you drew him. The sketches and portraits portray him as a calm but amicable leader, standing tall and serving as a guide to those around him, a true "father to his men" kind of bot... it's everything he wants to be, but is quite certain he's not. He's barely able to keep up his smooth persona when he asks about your process.

·You explain that you find inspiration in everything, but he's been your chosen subject lately for a lot of reasons. It's no secret he's handsome, but you see something more when you look at him, and you did everything you could to show it here; there's a real leader in him. Maybe some bots don't see it under all the bluster and sarcasm, but you see how much he cares for every bot on his crew. He wants to be the best for all of them, and even if he struggles at times, that effort is beautiful to you.

·It takes everything in him to bite back some very embarrassing tears, and the crack in his voice doesn't help him hide the emotion, though he covers that up with unconvincing coughs and claims something got in his optic. From then on he seems to stand a little taller and find his assigned duties a little easier to bear, but you absolutely notice how he poses in what he believes to be heroic fashion whenever your sketchbook comes out. Inspired by his enthusiasm, you invite him to model more officially, and the crew is just happy to see him so enthusiastic.

Minimus

·Being as observant as he is, your consistent appraisal of your surroundings is not something he'd ever miss, but your frequent sketching in the most random places does leave him absolutely mystified. Every time he sees you there's artistic supplies on your person, but he can't find anything that appears to be worthy of putting to paper, so what could you be drawing? He respects your privacy too much, and feels too silly about his curiosity, to interpret and ask you for an explanation.

·Thus it's with some small eagerness that he finds one of your sketchbooks after it's been misplaced, and he sees the perfect opportunity to slip in a question. For the sake of handling something so tiny, he approaches without his armor, offering the lost item back with barely concealed pride at your delight to have it returned. In the moment of truth he nearly falters, but does indeed manage to ask what you draw around the ship. He leaves out the fact that he's observed you whenever you draw in his presence.

·The question has an answer only he seems to think isn't obvious; him! You spend time together frequently, and while everything is fair game for sketching, he's a very regular subject for you. Whether he's wearing the Magnus armor or not, you explain that the commanding aura he radiates is something you can't help but find beautiful. That word choice baffles him enough that he has to interrupt; beautiful? Commanding? Even without his armor?? You're delighted to assure him that you absolutely mean that.

·Hearing you describe the details of your reasoning, like the quiet dignity of his stance or the calm intelligence of his red optics, touches his spark in ways he wasn't expecting. He's calm and speaks softly as he keeps the conversation going, asking questions about your various works and listening attentively when you answer, processing your view of the universe as being packed with beauty in all the places people don't think to look.

·Any bot that sees him during the remainder of the day absolutely notices the change to his entire demeanor; namely that he's smiling a soft and barely perceptible smile. It's not long after he requests a few sketches from you to keep in his office, whether they're of him or not, and he has them framed in places of honor. He doesn't tell you, but you figure it out, that one particular drawing of him you gift for his sake is kept securely stored in a compartment by his spark.

Swerve

·Many bots may see him being a tad bit on the shallow side when it comes to the arts, but our beloved barkeep has his own unique appreciation for creativity and all the ways it can be visually expressed, and you recognize it not long after meeting him. As his bar is a frequent hangout for everyone, you find it to be a fantastic place to sit and sketch, as the variety of bots makes it quite easy to have your choice of subjects even if you have to sit on a table. Obviously Swerve notices and asks you what you're drawing when traffic slows one evening.

·You're happy to show him your work and he's always eager to hear what everyone is up to, so he starts asking questions about your art in general. How long have you been an artist? What's it like suddenly having a whole ship of aliens to sketch? Why draw here all the time? At that query you light up brilliantly, and he's delighted by your enthusiasm as you describe all the incredible sights the bar has to offer.

·You list some of your favorite things to draw, like the many friend groups on the ship that gather here, the brilliant colors of the glowing vats of enjex, and him smiling and rushing with orders through it all. That last one gets a flash of surprise from behind his visor, which is quickly overtaken by exuberant delight; you've been drawing him?! He babbles out a surge of confusing statements that you're eventually able to interpret as a request to see, just one he's too bashful to say directly.

·Happily obliging, you're touched by how he smiles at every little sketch, and feel compelled to explain that he's a big part of why you love drawing here. You try to see beauty in everything, even what often gets overlooked, and there's so very much of that here. The bar is one of those places that everyone knows is special, but you know he's the reason they love it like they do, and that his enthusiasm and hard work hold it all together. You find that inspiring, and actually quite beautiful. It doesn't hurt that his brilliant smile is always a treat to sketch.

·Trying to play it cool and totally failing, he doesn't quite hide that he's near to tears when he asks if you'd like to hang some of your work up in the bar, or maybe have a little corner for yourself to draw from. He just doesn't want you getting squished while you sketch, is all! And having a better vantage point is ideal for someone so small! When you accept, he gives you your own human sized accommodations not too far from the heart of the bar, and every so often when you sketch he'll glance up at you absolutely beaming.

[astrodrawsturtles]

Meet the Main Cast of TMNT: New World Mutants!

I received these very kind asks about my version of TMNT, and i’m finally getting around to answering them! @sirwolficus-art​ @dianounais​

So! Mutations and meetings first!

When Splinter met the boys, they were human kids living on the streets of NYC as a group, scavenging for food and making trouble. He had an instant soft spot for them but knew he couldn’t properly house them. Instead, he kept an sharp eye on them and bought them fresh food whenever he could.

One day, Splinter came across the boys in the middle of a street fight with a group of older kids. They weren’t faring particularly well, so Splinter stepped in and scared off the bullies, ushering them into a nearby pet shop to talk to them. While there, they took interest in the baby turtles and played with them for a while. Mikey explained to Splinter that they were fighting over food. Splinter offered to take them out for a proper meal when the chaos calmed down outside, something they happily took him up on.  

Unfortunately, on their way to a diner, they were approached by a threatening stranger carrying a couple canisters of glowing green chemical. They attacked, and though Splinter did his best to defend the boys (ultimately hurting the stranger enough to scare them off), at the last moment they managed to throw the ooze onto them. Boom, mutation!

Donatello!

Donatello is the eccentric of his brothers. He’s the embodiment of pure chaotic neutral and will blow up a Chili’s just to see what happens. (Think Rise Donnie without the ego) He’s an outspoken, highly opinionated drama queen, but has a quiet confidence about his actual intellect. More often he’ll show his family something he’s made with excitement rather than arrogance. His skills lie mainly in hacking, but he’s also a gifted engineer. He’s an absolute genius but a total dumb ass about everything else.

He LOVES science fiction and is 100% convinced aliens are real, and the thing that mutated them. None of his brothers belive him, but they tolerate his rambling conspiracy theories to various degrees.

Despite being the oldest of his brothers at 17, he is by far the least mature. He often focuses too much on his projects and doesn’t take anything else nearly as seriously. He swears like a sailor and the hardest for Splinter to get to train. He is a red eared slider.

Leonardo!

Like his father, Leonardo came up in a heavily traditional Japanese culture. He grew up learning ninjutsu from his birth parents (more on that in later posts ;)), and though he is now separated from them, he still values the culture. He takes his training very seriously, and though he can sometimes come off a stoic or emotionless, he is very much capable of being just as silly and fun loving as his brothers. He just has his own way of showing it. If you pay attention, he laughs the most at his brothers antics; it’s just quiet.

In fact, he is selectively mute thanks to his severe voice dysphoria. He is a trans boy and it’s the thing he struggles with the most; so he often just doesn’t speak. Instead, he signs to his family and used common mannerisms and gestures to communicate. He will only speak when he feels it totally necessary.

Despite being the youngest at 15, he’s always been the natural leader of his brothers; even before meeting splinter and becoming mutated. He just naturally falls into the role, and his brothers don’t object. He is a red eared slider.

Raphael!

Raph, along with Mikey (his bio twin) is 16. He loves to scrap and fight and be strong, and often underestimates his physical strength in training. But it’s never mal intended, he just shows affection with his actions rather than words and the language he speaks best is physical. He aims to be strong enough to give the BEST hugs.

He has his fair share of hissy fits, though, due to some unresolved sensitivity that can turn into anger if left unchecked. He doesn’t get angry often, but when he does he REALLY gets angry. Sometimes to the point of intentional malicious harm towards his brothers until he’s able to calm down. His biggest fear is seriously or permanently hurting his family, so he does his best to quell his anger.

He loves to cook, especially pizza (he takes a lot of pride in his homemade pizza dough, something he’s perfected for many years) and his favorite thing is to make food for his family. He is a box turtle.

Michelangelo!

Mikey is also 16, but despite his young age he is the most emotionally mature of his brothers. He’s very chill, down for whatever. He’s great at reading others and will find a way to make friends with anyone. He jokes around a lot, but he know the exact way to listen to, console and then cheer up every member of his family.

He’s highly sociable and loves to go out in the daylight and explore NYC whenever he can. He’ll often drag one or all of his bros with him. He is a literal ray of sunshine, and is immediately friends with everyone he meets. Unless he gets Bad Vibes™ from someone. If Mikey doesn’t like someone, it’s a definite sign they’re bad news bears.

He loves to yoyo, and spends almost as much time on the hobby as he does on his art. He is a box turtle.

Master Splinter!

Splinter is a patient, soft and caring father. He loves his sons to the ends of the earth and would do anything to protect them. Perhaps a tad over protective at times, but a loving father above all else. That is, except for in the dojo. He takes his teaching very seriously, and while he is still patient with the boys, he is very tough love when it comes to ninjutsu. He places a very high value on the culture he came from and expects his sons to honor it to the same level.

He is a very young father, currently only 36 and 28 when he was mutated (along with his sons). He’d always intended on adopting a kid or two when he was old enough to support them, but was very much thrown into fatherhood when they were all mutated. His Dad Instincts™ kicked into high gear, and there was no question in his mind that these were his kids now. He sometimes struggles with being a young father to four teens, but he wouldn’t trade his life now for anything.

Due to his rat mutation, he is severally color blind and now considered legally blind. His vision only got increasingly worse over the years, so he can no longer see what Leo is signing. Instead, one of the other turtles will speak for him or Leo will tap morose code to him if he wants to communicate. It’s tough, but they do their best.

[buckyownsmyheart]

Duty [1/12]

CHAPTER 1: Reaching an Understanding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: None! Maybe baby swear words

Series Summary: Ex-army doctor, and now on-mission-for-the-Avengers doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), had prepared herself for anything. That was, of course, until she met a devastatingly charming Sergeant from Brooklyn with a quick wit and a kind smile. I wonder what will happen.

Series Masterlist

Prologue

The next day, things in the briefing room were a little tense. A feeling of unease spread through you as you walked into the room, trying to ignore the subdued murmurs and eyes tracking your movements from agents, healthcare professionals and Avengers alike. You steeled yourself against their gazes, daring anyone to question your integrity before Nick Fury quietened the chatter from beside you. 

“Some of you have already met your new on-mission doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), and those who haven’t will have heard about her. She will be helping us keep healthy from now on. There will still be the same team here in the medical bay, but she’s the needed add-on. Any questions?” 

Before anyone had the chance to form a thought that might lead to a question, he continued. “Alright, dismissed. Avengers I need you to remain behind for further briefing and report clarification.” There is a jostling and scraping of chairs as the agents leave the room. 17 gives you a wink on their way out before the room becomes quiet once more.

Fury eyed the room. “Your recent infiltration into the HYDRA camp was successful in giving us insight into their new project, but that’s as far as the success goes. I don’t want a fuck up like this again.” He distributed updated files around the table, and you took the closest seat, next to Black Widow. Looking down at the classified file, you weren’t sure you were meant to be reading this but opened it anyway, your curiosity beating your wish to abide by any rules. And you read.

********

S.H.I.E.L.D CLASSIFIED

PROJECT: MOONSHINE, (accessory to HYDRA), 05 SEPT 2019

Named after the technically legal, but often lethal, home-brewed alcohol, HYDRA have created a facility now known to be located within the EUREKA RESEARCH FACILITY in ELLESMERE ISLAND, 79°59′20″N 085°56′27″W. The base, previously owned by the Canadians before HYDRA took over, is secluded and only reachable by jet, with food, fuel and other supplies brought every 6 months.

Recent information has shown their proceedings, including images [see page 3 through 5] of their testing on human subjects, in an attempt to produce the same effect as the serum, successfully trialled on Steven G. Rogers, but by forms of mutilation and pain endurance, as recreating the serum, as shown on James B. Barnes, was deemed unsuccessful in producing the desired effect.

The methods include electrotherapy, fire exposure, exhaustion and debilitation techniques. These hope to push the cells within the body to mutate themselves to survive the conditions. 

TOP SECRET SPECIAL HANDLING ONLY

1

********

You looked up to Fury, reeling a little from the information. You shifted in your seat as it felt too hard and your feet placed uncomfortably on the floor. You hadn’t reached the pictures yet but had a good enough guess as to what they contained.

“We’re working with the Secret Intelligence Service, or MI-6, on this.” Fury reported and looked to you as he said it, “They’re working with our team to find out more. Until then we can only wait. Major, you’re dismissed.”

You stood up, maybe a little too quickly, and walked out the door before you were given any more files. You walked to your quarters and flopped onto the bed. Rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes to try to try and rid them of tiredness, and make your brain deal with the new information. There had always been people capable of causing such pain, but the thought of people intentionally inflicting that sort of torture on many people was enough to make your stomach turn, and you considered yourself to have a pretty strong stomach. In an attempt to distract yourself, you decided to head down to the medical bay, trying to familiarise yourself with your new surroundings and try and lessen the stares people had given you being the new girl. You rolled out of bed, not daring to look in the mirror and walked back out of your room.

Two flights of stairs and several corridors filled with loud colourful art later, you found the bay. The set up was much like a normal hospital ER, with a bleak looking desk at the front. Someone was scribbling frantically behind it, the bags under her eyes indicating their understaffing and overworking, a permanent feature of any healthcare professional, apparently even if they worked for billionaires. She looked up as you approached and gently returned the smile you gave her. 

“Hi Major, what can I help you with?” Her voice carried a slight roughness to it, but not in an unpleasant way. It was an oddly comforting husk that made you feel like she would have perfect control of any situation that arose.

“Hi Angie,” you smiled, reading her name badge. “I wanted to get acquainted with everything, see what’s what and how you guys run things. I’d love to help out as much as possible.”

“Would you meet the people who run the show?” she drummed her fingers on top of the now closed folder, “Dr Cho is currently with someone, but I can find some of the team?" 

Before you could answer, her eyes flickered to something behind you, causing you to turn and see what she was looking at. Your eyes met with piercing blue ones and you couldn’t help but give a sigh.

“Hey Doc,” Bucky Barnes grinned sheepishly, “Been given orders to have my arm re-looked at, would you be able to help?”

Narrowing your eyes at him you turned back to Angie to ask for her opinion, but she was already holding out a file that had a printed ‘James B. Barnes’ on the top.

“Room 4 is empty,” Angie gesturing to a room with the same unbothered air as she busied herself with other tasks, but you thought you could see the trace of a smile. You realised you weren’t going to get any more help on this one, and so opened his file, pretending it had something to do with his current injury. In reality it was a record of his previous injuries, and had zero relevance at the moment, but it kept your hands busy and felt it made you look important and not like you would rather be anywhere else but stuck in a room with him. You made the short walk into room 4, not looking to see if he had followed you, and sat in the chair in front of the computer. When you had fortified your composure, you turned to him. He was sitting on the bed, idly playing with sheet covering it, and now seeing his open face and off-guard composure, there was no ignoring how good-looking he was. He had changed from his tactical gear into a plain red Henley that stretched over his chest, and you could see the strain of the trousers he wore, their blue bringing out his eyes in a way that should be illegal. You averted your eyes and coughed a little, trying to rid the frog that had managed to wind its way into your throat.

He interrupted your train of thoughts, “I’m sorry for yesterday.” You looked back at him with surprise, not expecting an apology. “I was rude to you and I didn’t give you a chance before immediately dismissing you.” He didn’t break eye contact, and in an attempt to distract yourself from the unusual things your stomach was doing, you tried to drop your rigid glare into something you hoped was more comforting and busied yourself washing your hands. 

“It’s alright. I’ve been underestimated my whole life; I’ve now learnt not to take it personally.” You looked up and met his gaze. “C’mon Sergeant, let me see how much I hashed up that arm,” you saw his shoulders drop a few inches. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all, you knew you had a tendency to be a little defensive at times. After peeling the bandage back, you couldn’t help but murmur a few exclamations as all you saw was faint pink section of skin. A small yellowing scab and peeling of the skin around the edges were the only indicators of any injury.

“Perhaps you’re a better doctor than you think,” Bucky said, giving a small laugh. A small smile wormed its way onto your face.

“Mind if I poke around it a bit?” You glanced up at Bucky, “Why did they even send you down here? It’s healed perfectly.”

“Not at all, all yours.”

You worked your fingers around the edges of the wound, massaging the skin and seeing it whiten and then pink, showing signs of healthy tissue and vessels. You felt Bucky’s eyes on you, but had to resist the temptation to look up, otherwise you might fall right into them.

“It’s amazing,” you confessed to him, “I can still feel the dissolvable stitches I put in there but everything else has healed completely. You would expect this sort of recovery within 12 weeks, not 14 hours.” 

“I’ve never seen it heal as fast as this," He motioned to his arm. "Steve and I would have been a little less uptight at the whole situation if we knew.” 

He nodded to the desk, where you had placed his file.

“All the information on my healing and other enhancements,” he said, his tone had hardened slightly, “Are all in there,”

“Oh, the doctors here have already tested you for this sort of thing?”

“Not the doctors here.”

You looked up at him and your face fell with realisation, of course HYDRA had kept records on him. Sympathy and pity gripped your heart, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

He snapped at you suddenly, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not broken, and I don’t need your pity.” You knew he wasn’t pissed off at you, he was pissed at the situation, but doesn’t mean his words didn’t sting you a little bit. Bucky yanked down his sleeve and stood up quickly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” You reached over and gathered the bandage from the bed next to where he had been sitting, “I don’t think you’re broken. You’re healing, there’s a difference.” You looked into his eyes, trying to convey the sincerity you felt with those words. When he didn’t move, you offered a truce, “Let me take out a few of those stitches on top. It might be a bit more comfortable for you.” He nodded and silently took one of the spare chairs. He did have the grace to look a little ashamed at his outburst, but you figured asking for a second apology in 10 minutes would be a bit too much.

You were quiet as you cut the offending sutures, and when you were done, Bucky pulled down his sleeve and spoke, his voice soft, “Umm, you uh-, you figured out how to use Stark’s coffee machines yet?”

“Not yet,” you laughed, “Haven’t been brave enough if I’m honest. Never seen so many damn buttons on a machine in my life!” 

He gave you a small chuckle, “How about I show you? To make up for being an ass. Today and yesterday. I know all doctors and soldiers have a sweet spot for coffee.”

You smiled, he was trying to make amends and you appreciated that. “Lead the way, Sarge.”

-

“You press this button, and then the water should come through this part, and you get your regular filter coffee. Tastes exactly like it did in the 40s, better even,” Bucky said as he pressed the button. Steaming hot air jetted out of one of the pipes on the side, singeing a hole in Bucky’s shirt and exposing the glint of his metal arm as he swore profusely at the machine, and then at his shirt for good measure. It had become apparent in the past 30 minutes that as much as Bucky claimed to be able to work the coffee machine, he actually had as much of an idea as you, potentially even less.

“Looks like it’s going really well for you Terminator,” Sam Wilson entered the kitchen, and as he caught sight of you, he smiled and extended out a hand. “Hi, we sort of met in the quinjet, but I’m Sam.”

You took it, “(Y/n), nice to meet you. You don’t by any chance know how to work this machine? Half-robot over here is about to blow something up.”

Sam laughed and wandered over to where you were stood, pressed a few buttons on the side, and coffee started dripping into the jug. He turned to you and quipped, “You’re really trusting old-man over here with showing you something technological? For someone quite intelligent, you don’t seem very smart.”

You leaned back and laughed at his comment, Bucky however, looked put-out.

He glared over at him, “What do you want, Wilson?” 

“Steve is looking for you down in the boxing ring, says he’s ready to kick your ass again.”

You looked at Bucky, “Steve beats you in a fight?” Then grinned over at Sam as annoyance crossed Bucky’s face.

“Not today he won’t,” Bucky grumbled as he trudged away from the coffee machine, muttering incoherently except for a few words that I’m not sure Steve would appreciate hearing. 

As you enjoyed the bitter and warm smell of fresh coffee, Dr Bruce Banner walked into the kitchen and gave you a warming smile. He too pressed a few buttons on the machine, and a green froth fell into his mug.

“It’s so good to have an actual medical doctor on the team, they all kept coming to me on the battlefield,” he gestured around him, as if the Avengers were all there, “With life-threatening injuries! Expecting me to patch them up and send them on their way! I only dealt with tropical diseases in India! It was an entirely different thing!”

Sam turned to him, “You’re meant to be a genius Banner, what’s the use of your 7 PhDs if you can’t do anything useful with them?”

You laughed at the interaction, “It’s a pleasure to be on the team, happy to help in any way I can.” You paused, contemplating your next words carefully. “This might be a bit invasive, but what’s the deal with Sergeant Barnes? Is he normally this grumpy?”

Sam looked up at you, but it was Bruce who answered. “He’s still getting used to being able to be the good guy. I think he feels he doesn’t deserve it and so lashes out before anyone else can push him away first. He doesn’t like letting people in. Took Sam a bit of time to figure that out too.”

Sam laughed softly, “He’s the biggest damn grump I’ve ever met, but underneath he’s also a softie and an idiot. Give him time, he’ll be more bearable.”

You just nodded, pondering what they had both said. It made sense, he was still decompressing and figuring things out, maybe you could let him off the hook for being such an ass. You stayed in the kitchen for an hour or so with Sam and Bruce, getting the inside knowledge on the Avengers, the ins-and-outs of the compound and where to find the best bagels nearby. If you were wondering, it’s the deli on the right as you exit the compound.

“Right,” You turned to the two men, “I've been avoiding my unpacking, so I should probably get going, but it was lovely meeting you both properly, and thanks for all the information, I reckon I’ve got enough to blackmail the whole team now.” You said with a wink before walking out the door, waving over your shoulder.

-

In your room, your bags stared at you, lying on the floor, daring you to open them. You stared right back at them. You had been caught in this gridlock for the past 10 minutes and couldn’t quite find it in yourself to begin the task. You reprimanded your lack of motivation, and you had just managed to open your bag and sat on the floor, trying to organise some of your junk. You looked at the photos you had brought along, and they made your insides smile. There were some of you and your brother, the rest of your family, and some of your old army section and other friends. You felt a twist of guilt as you realised you hadn’t rung them yet to let them know you had arrived. Your brother, being a hacker, probably could find out that information if he was really concerned, but you felt bad if it got to that. 

After a quick text letting them know you were safe and happy and that you would ring them later, you found yourself being drawn to your gym clothes. Maybe you should be checking out all the facilities that the compound had to offer. It would seem rude not to. Not because a certain someone who had captured your attention was probably still down there, sweating a little and most likely looking quite good. Not at all. You would never. Trying to move your thoughts away before they became slightly perverted, you pulled on some kit, letting your dog tags hang out in the open, clattering on your chest as you made your way down.

The gym was pretty standard, with weights and machines in one corner, cardio down the far wall, and free space with various mats and equipment dotted around. What drew you was the small boxing ring and punching bags dangling from the ceiling in the opposite corner. Unfortunately, no sign of Bucky. Not that he was the sole reason you were down here. You began to wrap your hands and after a quick warm-up you started jabbing at the bag, getting a feel for it again, before tightening your muscles and pushing yourself a bit harder.

“Not sure the bag is good enough for you Major,” Bucky spoke from behind you, appearing out of nowhere and making you jump, “think you might need a more challenging opponent.”

You let up on the bag, steadying it with one hand, “You offering yourself up, Sergeant? Is Steve that much better than you that you’re going to sink to my level?”

“Not sure the bag would agree with that statement, you were giving it a harder time than Steve and I put together,” He provoked, patting the bag with a pretend sympathetic gesture. “I would like to think I could put up a better fight than the bag though.”

Steve rounded the corner, from what you assumed was the changing rooms, and addressed Bucky. “I’ve seen her file Buck, let’s just say she would have had you nose-deep in mud in the 40s. And I’m not going to be putting my money on you today.” You grinned at Steve.

“Alright, it’s on.” You paused, straightening up and chucking him a pair of gloves from a nearby bench, “Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’ve got a pretty face.” And with that, you parted the ropes and jumped into the ring.

Chapter 2

tags:

@broco8 @nerd-without-a-cause @sebbbystaaan @mcubuckyandsteve @cutepiemimi13 @velvetwonderbucky

(strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you!) 

[thequeenofadream]

Painting a Picture of Perfection II (Brian May x Reader)

PART ONE | PART TWO

Summary: you, an up and coming artist, were in the park looking for some inspiration. you suddenly saw a curly haired guitarist and you were very much enlightened.

Words: 2,394

Notes: swearing? eating of chicken nuggets? fluffy fluff fluff awkwardnessess bc shy

A/N:  thanks for all the support on the first part, i hope you guy will enjoy this one! :) <3 

🖌 tagging: @obsessedwithrogertaylor @malekdarling @i-padfootblack-things @xxcxrolinexx @xtrashmammalstefx @everbodyplaythegame

~~~~~~~~~

Your paintbrush tapped against your cheek as the london skies grew dark. You were waiting for Brian to arrive and take you out, but you were also terribly worried it was about to rain. He hasn’t told you anything about where he was taking you, but you hoped it didn’t have to do with going outdoors.

It was quarter before six and he had told you, he’d pick you up at six. You underestimated your preparation time and ended up finishing earlier than expected. You decided to use the time to continue your painting of Brian. You had transferred the sketch you had made onto a canvas; it was resting against the easel you had next to a window.

You were thinking of what shade of red you should used for bri’s guitar when you heard a knock from the door. You quickly set down everything you had down on the window sill and removed the arpon you were wearing. Under your apron, you wore a blue off-shoulder dress that had a flowy skirt. It wasn't too formal, nor was it casual.

You set your apron down with the rest of your supplies and head for the door, excited to see Bri. You hadn't seen him since his gig at the pub, because of the both of you being busy with your respective courses. It was refreshing to his lovely face after a long week.

You opened the door to reveal the curly-haired guitarist; he wore a white button down and blue washed jeans. He was fiddling with his fingers when he looked up and saw you at the door. He was left breathless.

“Wow.”

It wasn't like he had never looked at you and thought you were a goddess, but this particular moment was special. This was the moment of your first date. You weren't just a girl in the far distance of a park. You were a girl he was about to take out on a date.

You could only blush in response; he could never cease to make you do so. During the short moments you had seen him during the week, it seemed like he always made it point to leave you red-faced.

“Thanks.” You spoke softly, in contrast to the chaos ensuing within you.

“Shall we?” He held out his arm, expecting you to take it. You looked at him confused, not knowing what to do. He noticed this and did his best to explain without blatantly saying ‘MY ARM IS YOURS.’

“Uh you can hold my arm.” He didn’t want to lose his blushing streak so he looked away as his cheeks turned red like his red special guitar. His effort however was useless, because you were an attentive observer. You thought that it was quite cute to see the colour flush through his cheeks. You giggled as you linked with him arm and you left your flat.

Fast forward to the his car and you swore brian had been driving for hours even though it had only been thirty minutes since you left your flat. It was silent between the both of you, but it wasn’t necessarily awkward. It was more nerve-wracking. You were both afraid to fuck up. What if one of you had reminded the other about an ex?

As if on cue, Brian broke the silence deciding to make some small talk.

“So how’s classes?”

You stopped fiddling with your fingers to finally look up at him. Honestly it was pretty boring, but you thought you’d update him on the project you were doing where he was the subject.

“Ah, not much. The painting of you is coming along quite nicely though.” You flashed a gentle smile, looking as radiant as ever. You continued to rave about how everything was coming along together and how you were experimenting with different methods and textures.

Brian was listening intently, but he couldn’t help but get lost in your eyes. He loved watching your face light up as you talked about what you were so passionate about. It was like watching a supernova, without all the mess and chaos of course. He was so caught up with you that he had almost forgotten he was driving until you reminded him.

“Uh, Bri.” You said pointing straight ahead. He quickly snapped out of it and looked straight ahead to see a red light. He stepped on the brake pedal and the car came to an abrupt stop.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He said relieved as you both remained unharmed. His heart was about to leap out of his chest as he realized he could’ve gotten you two seriously hurt. You were slightly shaky as well, but you quickly brushed it off. It was the sort of funny seeing how you affected his funny.

“It's fine Bri.”

You laughed, as Brian sweat bullets, trying to figure out why. You quickly noticed this and put a hand on his shoulder assuring him it truly was fine. The light turned green and you both continued on your conversation with him properly dividing his attention between the road and you. To say the least it was quite a challenge.

The car came to a stop as you arrived at a modest cafe that didn't have too many customers. It had just the right amount of coziness that you desired. As you were both getting out of the car, Brian put a hand on your thigh before you could step out.

“Wait here.”

He stepped out and got something out of the trunk, before going to your side your side of the car and opening the door. He held it for you as you stepped out seeing a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his hands. It wasn't filled with purely roses, but it had daisies, tulips, camelia and so much more. It was an explosion of colours. He handed it to you and closed the door behind you, before speaking up.

“A colourful bouquet for a colourful soul.”

You buried your face in the bouquet taking in the smell of it all, while also hiding the growing redness spreading across your face. Brian chuckled, seeing you were happy with them. When you had finally calmed down, you looked back up, seeing him laughing at you. He was gorgeous. You didn't see what he saw in you. You wondered what about was so ‘colourful’ about you.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Never been more sure of anything else.”

You both started walking to the entrance of the cafe still pondering on why. You were very much tempted to ask. You walked in to the fresh smell of coffee and pastries. It may have been dinnertime, but the place reeked of breakfast. It was so domestic and homely, it was as if you had stepped into your own apartment.

You settled on table near a window that overlooked what you presumed was the owners tiny garden. As you sat down, Brian pushed the chair in for you and got into his own.

“You sure do keep chivalry alive.” You complimented him and saw him go red. You thought he was such a gentleman and shouldn't just go unnoticed.

“Well nothing less for queen like yourself.” He finally responded, gesturing to you in all you beauty.

“And shall you be my king?” You joked, pointing at him.

“I was thinking maybe prime minister.” He joked back, making you roll your eyes. Too could play that game.

“Oh then I guess I’ll have to go kiss Prince Charles.” You faked a sigh while resting your chin your palm, looking out the window.

A ping of jealousy hit Brian although it was very much impossible for that to actually happen. Brian quickly took your other hand and kissed it, making you look back at him.

“Just kidding, my queen. I’d love to be your king.”

You smiled to yourself, believing you had won.

A waitress then came over and handed you each a menu. As you were both looking, you couldn't help but watch him look frustrated, not knowing what to pick. It was quite the sight to watch.

“You look like you're about to pop a blood vessel.”

His snapped his head in your direction, realising that you had been watching the entire time. He raised an eyebrows, seeing your sassy side slowly revealing itself.

“You clearly haven't seen me during band practice then.” He remembered the night when Roger and Fred had fought over some maracas Fred had thrown into the crowd during the show the night before.

“You'll have to invite me sometime then.”

You raised your hand calling over the waitress. She placed two cups of water down and took out a notepad. You gave her your order while Brian did the same. You had just ordered some soup and chicken nuggets. Brian had opted for some fries and a salad. She left, giving you two some privacy and You decided it was the perfect time to get to know him better since you felt like you only ever talked about yourself.

“So, Bri. Why space?” You asked, genuinely intrigued by his passion on the subject.

“Well, the stars are all we ever see at night and we don't know a single thing about them. Thought I'd get to know them better. They did brighten up my night after all.” He eyed you the entire time, smirking at the end of it all.

“very smooth, may.” You couldn't help but giggle at how much of a dork he was, just like you in a sense.

“But in all seriousness. I do love it, the cosmos, the galaxies. They're all such wonderful works of the universe and I want to understand them.” He said seriously, with a sparkle his eyes.

“Oh that's wonderful! I sorta feel the same way about art. They're sort of like galaxies painted by us and every single one has a story waiting to be told, waiting to be understood.”

“It's nice to see the meaning in things isn't it?”

“You bet.”

When your food arrived, you continued conversing, getting completely lost in the topics you'd dive into whether it be about uni, mutual friend or whatever tea you had to spill.

“Yeah, so long story short I accidentally spilled scalding tea on my ex, causing him to go to the hospital.” You felt bad, remembering your clumsiness.

“Oh my god! Is he okay?” Brian tried to hold in a laugh as you told your story.

“Of course!” You let you a chuckle, seeing his expression.

“That wasn't why you break up, was it?” He continued, feeling very curious about your tale.

“Nope, I found out he was gay.”

“Oh.”

“But it's fine, we're great friends now!” You continued lightening up the mood. He smiled, seeing how the situation wasn't one with a sad ending.

You had both finished your meals and were getting ready to leave. You had insisted to split the bill in half, despite Brian's wishes. You left the cafe together, hand in hand. You leaned against his shoulder until you reached the car. You were tired, but happy tired. You both had a fun date and was more than satisfied with how it went. You were smitten.

Once you both got into the car, he started the car and had one hand one the steering wheel while the other one held your hand. He noticed that you were looking quite groggy so he told you how to adjust the seat so you you take a rest.

On the way to your complex, he would take quick glances, watching you sleep. You were so peaceful and happy, he wished he could make you feel that way. He wished maybe someday he could be your safe place.

By the time you got the apartment, you were still asleep so he did his very best to wake you up gently. He shook you softly, and you woke slowly, taking time to adjust.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry.” You started apologising profusely, but Brian just interrupted assuring you it was fine.

“It’s fine, (Y/N). I’m pretty tired as well. Do you want me to walk you up though?” He said letting out a yawn.

“It’s fine, you should probably get home quick. It seems like it’s going to be a rainy night.”

“Oh yeah, you’re right.”

An awkward silence then ensued and none of you didn’t really know what to do next. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage and it seemed like the perfect time to steal a kiss, but was it?

Your eyes sparkled in the dark, like a shining star in the dark. Brian put his hand against your cheek, stroking it softly, not really knowing what else to do. It just seemed like an instinct. His palm felt warm against your cheek, and it warmed your heart.

“Uh Bri? Is it fine if I-” You trailed off not really knowing how to say it, so you just did it.

Your lips hovered above his, before meeting his. It was as if fireworks had gone off. There was so much emotions and thoughts pumping through your mind. You couldn’t do anything but sink into his lips. When you moved away, you felt like you had to stay sorry for the sudden exchange as you didn’t think he even reacted.

“Oh my go- wait i’m sorry i just-”

He interrupted you, pressing his lips against yours. You were surprised, but returned his kiss almost right away. You both stayed like that for a few moments more before pulling away, gasping for air.

“wait you like me too?” You suddenly realised in disbelief. With everything that had happened today, it was amusing to see that you still couldn’t take the hint. Brian just nodded in response, trying not to laugh at your response.

“Of course, love.”

“And I like you too!” You said still putting the dots together. “What does this mean?” You asked not understanding what was happening.

“I mean we could go on a second date?” Bri suggested, chuckling at your startled state.

“Yes? I mean yes!” You said, feeling like you you were stuck in a haze. You weren’t entirely sure if the world was spinning or it was you.

Everything seemed like a dream

And it was only going to continue like that.

~~~~~~~~~

[lavieendonna]

Brushwork || ArtMajor!Calum AU (Chapter 16)

Summary: An Art Major AU where Dallas - third year gawky art student at VCA -  makes a deal with Calum - her cute new neighbour and project partner - and they spend the semester learning that the perfect masterpiece takes a whole lot of brushwork.

Date: 3 September 2016 Requested: i mean i guess?????? not officially.  Pairing: Calum + Dallas Words: 4.4K jesus  Warnings: fluffy fluffy fluffy calum goodness (oh, and there is a mention of sexual assault near the beginning)  A/N: I really hope you guys are proud of me this month/months. This is the 3rd chapter I’ve updated in the span of like 2 weeks. I haven’t been this fast since I first started posting. I’m proud of me, and I appreciate everybody who has had a hand in helping my inspiration and motivation and to anyone who just reads because the love it. Big love xo 

Check out my ‘Brushwork’ inspiration tag x Let me know if you want to be messaged when the next update of ‘Brushwork’ is available x 

Ask | Masterlist | ‘Brushwork’ Spotify Playlist | Next Chapter | ‘Brushwork’ News

Chapter 16: I Settled For Saying That Instead Because It Was Less Dramatic And Less Of A Giveaway That I Would Jump Off Of A Cliff If He Told Me It Would Make Him Happy.

Isabelle hadn’t slept over since earlier in my second year at VCA. It was different now than it was back then – Polly used to be a part of it, and together the three of us would be up ‘til all hours of the morning talking shit and drinking wine and doing each other’s hair. It was real slumber party happenings in our student apartment, but now it was… quiet.

“Is Polly even here?” B wondered out loud around 11pm. We were curled up in my bed binge watching Game of Thrones since we were both ridiculously behind (I’m talking entire seasons, here). She had a Costco sized packet of peanut M&M’s and I had the Ben & Jerry’s. Every now and then we’d swap over, but she had a tendency to hog the chocolate so we were long overdue. That’s why Polly had come up in conversation – she was good at mediating the snacks.

“I don’t actually know.” I admitted. “Probably at work.” It was dark but I felt like I could see Isabelle raise her eyebrow at the idea of Polly having a job.

“At the pub?” She questioned. Polly used to work at the local pub last year, and it didn’t occur to me that Isabelle wouldn’t have known that she quit that job a few months ago.

“No, no.” I said, trying to recall the story. “Well, yeah, but a different one. She left the other pub a few months ago. Her boss was sexually harassing her.”

“Whoa, her boss?”

“Yeah.”

“The middle-aged white lady?”

“Yep.”

“Blonde hair, always blown-out, really bad regrowth and ridiculous fake lashes?”

“The one and the same.”

“Huh.” She paused. “I didn’t think… well, she didn’t seem… the type?” I wanted to laugh at Belle’s shock, but I was much the same when Pol first mentioned it.

“Neither.” I snorted darkly. “Turns out white women become sexual predators a lot more often than we thought.”

“I’ll say.” Belle huffed, but it seemed off again. Not so much like she didn’t care that Polly had experienced harassment, but the same thing as earlier – just the mention of Polly seemed to bug her. I wanted to ask about it, but I got the feeling she was just going to tell me to buzz off.

“Are you okay?” I settled for asking quietly, almost afraid that I’d left it too long to ask and she’d fallen asleep (despite the graphic death scenes flashing before our eyes). But her breathing was still even and I felt her shrug against my shoulder.

“I’m okay.” She mumbled and then picked up the PlayStation remote to turn up the volume. I sat there with anxiety for a couple more hours as I finished the ice-cram and, eventually, drifted off into a restless sleep.

We both woke up the next morning to my phone blaring obnoxiously loud. It was too early for my alarm to be going off, which meant somebody thought it was a brilliant idea to call me at (I fished out the contraption from somewhere between the sheets) 6 in the morning. My eyes weren’t open enough to see who it was, so I just answered the damn thing before Belle started swearing at me.

“Please tell me you have a good reason for calling me right this second.” I grumbled out, teetering on the edge of sleep despite my predicament, and internally hoping it wasn’t my mother or someone who would take an equal amount of offence to me answering the phone like that.

“I’m sorry!” I could almost see his sheepish grin now. “I know it’s early. But Diaz is sick, he sent the email last night.”

“So… no class?” I asked, my voice almost cheerful. Calum waking me up at 6 o’clock in the morning was almost worth hearing the news.

“No class.” I could hear the smile in the Māori boy’s voice. “Breakfast instead? I was thinking we could finally work on the mural together today. We might even finish if we haul ass.” I chuckled weakly and yawned before I had a chance to say anything. Part of me wanted to say no and curl over and go back to bed. But the other part of me – the smarter part – was too giddy to think of anything to say that wasn’t ‘fuck yeah’. I didn’t say that, but I did yawn one more time.

“Uh, yeah alright.” I sat up and used my free hand to rub my eye (and smear my already smeared eyeliner from yesterday).

“Sweet.” Calum was smiling again, I knew it. “I’ll meet you at the door in half an hour?” I yawned again and Calum laughed. “Hopefully you’ll be awake properly by then.”

“Whatever.” I said but I laughed weakly too. “I’ll see you soon.” I didn’t really wait for Calum to reply before I hung up, but he probably didn’t mind. Much.

“Who the fuck was that?” Isabelle grumbled out in her raspy morning voice that, admittedly, was a lot sexier than mine.

“Calum.” I told her. “We’re going to go work on the mural.”

“At this hour of the morning?!” I felt like if we were awake properly and it wasn’t so damn early in the morning, my sister would be yelling at me.

“Yeah, class got cancelled.” I explained, looking around the room to find where I’d abandoned my jeans. I couldn’t find the ones from yesterday, weirdly enough, so I found a different pair of light-wash skinny jeans that were ripped at the knees and paired it with an old, over-sized grey Draco Malfoy tee that already had paint all over it from previous projects.

“Do you want to come?” I asked when I realised Belle would be here on her own to face the wrath of Polly (I assumed Polly had wrath, anyway). But she didn’t reply with words, so much as a muffled snore. I turned to look over my shoulder and, naturally, the girl had passed out again.

I snuck out as quietly as I could, grabbing my bag with my sketch book and colour swatches, my wallet, phone and keys in my hands before I slipped into a pair of worn-in black flats and tip-toed out of my bedroom, trying as hard as I could to make as little sounds as possible (which, obviously, was impossible considering it’s me we’re talking about. I dropped about a million things and actually swore kind of loudly when I hit my hip on the corner of my dresser).

There was a part of me was waiting for Polly to be sitting in a swivelling chair out in the living room, turning on the lights dramatically as she swung around in her reveal and demanded to know where I was going. Because that was definitely something she would do – knowing her, she’d even borrow somebody’s cat and go full Godfather on my ass. But, again, that smarter part of me knew that was ridiculous, and that I didn’t really owe her this one either. Polly had a flair for the dramatic, and being so invested in my life wasn’t a right.

I finally made it out of the front door, and as promised, Calum was waiting on the other side, beaming at me like he’d been awake for hours. He was in similar get-up to mine – dark skinny jeans, spotted with paint and ripped a few times at the knees and thighs, and a red flannel, that looked kind of too big for his limbs, thrown over a similarly paint-sotted black tank. It annoyed me a little bit, too, because he looked so damn good, even in flip-flops, and I looked like a toddler from day-care.  

“I hope you know breakfast is on you.” I took for telling him over my shoulder while I locked up, trying to mask my frustration as being because of the hour of the morning and not because of my growing butterflies. “You don’t get to wake me up this early and not feed me.” Calum laughed and when I turned around to greet him properly, it was almost as if he was smirking at me, but like… fondly. I didn’t even know that was possible and yet here he was, making it a thing.

“Yeah, alright, that’s fair.” He chuckled at me with a nod before pulling me in for a ‘good morning’ hug which, you know, wasn’t overly unusual. What was out of the ordinary was that he pressed his lips to my temple and held me just longer than he normally would have, and that kind of sent me into a bit of a puddle. My knees were shaking so much I was pretty sure he could feel the trembling, too. “Cold?” He asked, and that’s when I knew for sure that he could. I just nodded with pursed lips, too scared to open my mouth in case I vomited on his feet. Not at them. On them.

“One sec.” He let me go and I desperately started to wipe my hands on my jeans on the off chance he miraculously wanted to hold hands at some point. I mean, if he was smart he wouldn’t. But everyone was under the impression we were “something” and I was under the impression that if two people like us were “something” then usually the “something’s” would hold hands at some point. I really kind of hoped that wouldn’t be today.

Anyway, Calum had disappeared for a short moment back into his apartment, and just as I was about to ask what the hell he was doing, he remerged with a black Dickies hoodie in hand.

“Here.” He said, offering me the sweatshirt with a fairly neutral expression. I just stared at it for a moment, bewildered at his complete underestimation of how much I would overthink everything he did for me from the moment he decided he liked me.

“I could have done that myself, you know.” I took to saying when he nudged the soft fabric at my goose-bump-covered arm. Calum just shrugged, totally unfussed.

“Eh, you’d already locked up.” Was his justification and then he grinned the lazy grin I kind of loved and I rolled my eyes at it to stop myself from melting any further.

“Well, thanks.” I laughed, handing him my bag while I pulled the hoodie over my head. It was kind of big, and I had to roll the sleeves back a little so my hands would be free, but it was warm and it smelled like Calum and I actually kind of forgot to be nervous the moment I pulled my hair out from inside and took my bag back from Calum who was watching me carefully. “How do I look?” I gave him a cheeky pose.

“I didn’t realise how much smaller than me you were.” He noted. “But it looks good.” I blushed again, but before I could say ‘thanks’ again he cut me off with a very serious look. “I want it back, by the way.” I bunched the collar up over my nose and mouth, shaking my head wildly.

“Nuh-uh. I like it.” I said, muffled but the soft fleece on the inside. “I want it.”

“I’ll buy you your own.” Calum said pointedly as we made our way out of the building. “But that one is the only one I have left that isn’t so scratchy.” I gave a loud laugh.

“Wow.” I deadpanned. “The only reason you won’t let me keep it is because it’s the least shitty one you own. No sentimental value at all?” I stared at him wide-eyed and teasingly. Calum rolled his eyes and I think he was even pouting a little bit.

“No, there is…” He mumbled, refusing to look at me. I bit my lip, holding in the laugh. “My mum bought it for me before I moved to Melbourne.”

I was still laughing about Calum being a Mama’s Boy when we reached the only on-campus place that served breakfast food – and to our displeasure, that was Bitters. We weren’t too keen on shitty tasting coffee and stale toast, but we were lazy and didn’t exactly want to walk any further than we needed to either. We chose the lesser of the evils – sometimes ass-tasting coffee wasn’t the biggest problem in the world.

The whole time we talked and joked (and Calum teased me about my various scars and bruises from our last early morning), I couldn’t get over how normal this was starting to feel. Early mornings with Calum, breakfast with Calum, conversations that were leading nowhere with no meaning whatsoever, while simultaneously seeming to bleed some kind of hidden wisdom that we would come to realise a little bit later. The butterflies never went away, but instead of making me feel sick it was almost like it was a comfortable encouragement that maybe, just maybe, nothing was going to immediately go wrong this time.

I was scaring myself a little bit, actually, how weirdly okay with this I was. I still trembled a little bit whenever Calum’s ankles brushed mine under the table, and my blood still settled deep in my cheeks whenever he complimented me or hinted slightly that he had feelings for me more than ‘yeah she’s pretty alright, let’s test a theory’. But it was becoming easier to ignore them – or, at least, rationalise with myself that maybe there was a chance that the world wouldn’t end if I felt a little bit safe with Calum. This was a big step for me. The last time I felt involuntarily safe around this guy I freaked out and threw myself into a spiral of depression, just about killing myself in my own stench when I refused to shower. Right now, I was seriously impressed that I hadn’t tried to smother myself in my bed covers. Or hang myself with my own hair.

“Hey, did you ever end up figuring out what tattoo you want yet?” Calum suddenly asked, excited, and snapping me out of my deep train of thought with a fright. I flinched. I knew that eventually we would end up talking about this again, and I was ridiculously underprepared for it.

“Uh, no…” I gave a tight-lipped grimace and Calum’s face fell, disappointed.

“What? Why?” He asked, and if I didn’t know him better I would have thought maybe he was actually kind of offended. I shrugged, my face contorted into some kind of frown crossed with a pout.

“I just…?!” I gave a defeated laugh, burying my face in my hands as I leant my elbows on the table in front of me.  Calum laughed, his hands grabbing my wrists and pulling my hands away so he could look at my face with raised eyebrows.

“Just what?” He asked me.

I sighed. “Alright, honestly? Most of it is that I just forgot.” I admitted and Calum raised a thick brow at me.

“Uh... what?” He was struggling for words, I could see it. “How do you forget to design a tattoo?” I shrugged again through a kind of uncomfortable laugh. Calum’s hands were still kind of wrapped around mine, our fingers some kind of intertwined together on top of the table. ‘This is how!’ I felt like screaming. ‘You are the reason I forget my own fucking name half the time!’

“I don’t know.” I settled for saying that instead because it was less dramatic and less of a giveaway that I would jump off of a cliff if he told me it would make him happy. “Things have been kind of… busy, I guess. Kind of.”

“Have they?” Calum questioned me, not so much challenging the statement but more so as if he genuinely hadn’t realised that – surprise! – student life can get kind of full on sometimes.

“I mean… well, yeah.”  I said, leaning back against my chair, leaving my hands beneath Calum’s. I tried to convince myself that it was for warmth, but I was already wearing his hoodie so that didn’t really work out very well. “The mural has been kinda kicking our asses, and the same with my other classes... Plus there’s this whole thing with Polly, and my sister, and my mother and Ashton and work – it’s just…” I trailed off my sentence because it was becoming impossible to finish it without giving myself an anxiety attack. My heart rate was already starting to spike (although, that could have been the caffeine).

“Jesus.” Calum mumbled under his breath, and I nodded my head in agreement while I mumbled a quiet ‘yeah’. “Hold up, your sister? What about your sister?”

“She’s here.” I said simply, thinking back to yesterday morning when she arrived and how weird it was that she’d come unannounced.

“Here, as in, ‘on campus’ here?” Calum asked and I nodded.

“Yeah, she was still sleeping when I left.” I said with a small smile that lasted only a second or two. “I think she’s been having a hard time. I didn’t know she was coming and she seemed kind of off yesterday.”

“Oh.” Calum paused, and I could see the gears grinding in his head from across the table. “If… I mean, you should have said.” He said with a small frown of worry. “If I’d known B was here I would have let you spend some time with her.” I shook my head, waving Calum off immediately. I mean, it was sweet that he was worried about her and about me not spending time with her – but, honestly, this was probably going to be more interesting than anything my sister and I would have come up with to do today.

“Nah, don’t stress.” I told him carefully. “I took her out to lunch yesterday and we had a good talk. And she slept over last night, so I think she’s okay now.”

“If you’re sure.” He said carefully, and then between the two of us we decided that if we had any more coffee we were going to shit our pants.

We gathered our things and, as promised (read: threatened), Calum paid for our meals. I said thank you, even though I’d made him do it, and Calum rolled his eyes at me and continued to dish it back until we’d reached the storage studio where all our paints were, and again until we’d reached the mural.

And we kept talking shit for an hour or so, each of us on one end of the mural and working on the detailing. Eventually we just stopped talking, both of us lost in our own little world of paint and tutus and faceless ballerinas.

“Can I ask you something?” Calum asked me, seemingly out of nowhere, around 10am. He was still sitting up on a step ladder, working on the final ballerina while I was sitting down on the ground and doing detailing on the background in the first section of the wall.

“Is that the question?” I replied with a small chuckle, mostly to myself because I was really on a roll today and it was putting me in a good mood. The quiet was nice, and being quiet with Calum was a lot more comforting than I thought it would be. Turns out, Calum was the kind of guy that didn’t make the silence awkward. He seemed just as content with it as I was – except for now, where I could sense that something was on his mind.

“Ha, ha.” He deadpanned. “I’m serious.” I looked over at him and his expression toward me was pointed. I just nodded back, curious, but also moderately terrified. Calum stared down at me, not concerned or worried, not even angry or upset. He looked more confused than anything. Like he was trying to figure me out or something.

“Why don’t you want to be the ballerina?”

I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t expecting him to ask, but I wasn’t, and the longer he stared at me waiting for my reply, the more uncomfortable I was starting to get. I shifted under the weight of his stare, looking away and turning back to my piece of wall that was meant to look like a shadow (though it was starting to look more like a brown blob than anything).

“I, uh…” I cleared my throat, suddenly unsure of what to say. And I stayed quiet for some time, trying to find the right truth.

“Dallas?” He prompted. I gave a small sigh, and offered a small, tight lipped smile. Not necessarily to Calum, but just into the space between us.

“I, um. I just… don’t think I am up to that kind of standard.” I settled for saying, and when I said the words out loud I knew they were true. I could see Calum not understanding, the look in his eyes almost more confused than they were before, and I bit my lip, trying to find a way to make him understand. “Ballerinas are… perfection.” I explained. “And I’m…” I gave a nearly wild shrug, kind of gesturing to all of myself in the hopes that he’d get it – that I was just me, and that no matter how many time I re-gathered the pieces of me that fell apart, I was never going to find the same peace in my mistakes. I wasn’t upset about it, I’d learnt to accept who I was a long time ago. I just didn’t understand why Calum was so intent on thinking I was any different.

“You’re pretty great, Dal.” He said softly, and I nearly didn’t hear him because he was so high up. My head snapped up to where I could see him, and when I looked he was smiling softly at me, the way he did when I knew he’d been watching me for longer than I’d been looking at him. I just rolled my eyes at him and turned away again, wishing that I hadn’t tied my hair up into its bun so it would be easier to hide my blush.

“Right.” I huffed. I didn’t believe him, but I couldn’t help smiling as if I did. The familiar warmness, the butterflies… it was almost exciting, if I thought about it from the right angle.

It wasn’t long until Calum spoke again.

“Are you nervous for showcase?” He asked, less serious now and the air between us a little lighter. I shrugged.

“I’m always nervous.” I said pointedly and the boy didn’t even laugh which offended me slightly (but only slightly – it was a fair point, he didn’t need to be a genius to see I was completely terrified by life). “But yeah, I guess so. I mean, I only have the mural reveal that night. But still.” I gave another shrug, content with my answer and Calum seemed to accept it too. When I looked back up at him he seemed lost in his art again, one brush in his mouth, his pallet in his left hand as he concentrated deeply on the beading of the final tutu.

“Are you?” I asked, relaxing for a bit, letting my posture slouch as I looked up to Calum’s great height.

“Hmm?” He murmured.

“Nervous.” I clarified. “About showcase.” He didn’t reply for what felt like forever. I couldn’t tell if he was just distracted by the art or if he was thinking, the way I did. I’d turned back to my pallet and started painting again by the time Calum replied.

“I don’t think so.” He said conclusively, and I’d almost forgotten what I’d asked already. “We… well, look at this. We’ve done some amazing work.” I hummed in agreement. Showcase was in just over a week, and even though we were still so behind, what we had was pretty damn cool. “My folio is being displayed in the library, too.”

“Really?” I was surprised at how exciting that sounded to me. Calum nodded and he seemed to beam down on me like the walking embodiment of the sun that he was.

“I can’t wait for you to see it.” He said, and I was just so blown away by his confidence. I’d never seen someone so… in their element. It was… hell, it was kind of inspirational if I was honest.

“So you’re not nervous?” I asked again with a crooked smile. “At all?” He shook his head with a small chuckle.

“Nah.” He waved me off. “I’ve got bigger things to be nervous about.” His smile turned into a tiny smirk, and from where I was sitting it looked like he shot me a wink. I snorted unattractively, biting my lip so I didn’t laugh in his face (figuratively, of course. There was still six feet and a step ladder between us, you see).

“Are… Are you talking about our date?!” I asked, completely bewildered, at this point, at the look of seemingly genuine anxiety inside the boy’s chocolate eyes.

“It is still happening, right?” He asked fearfully and I couldn’t help the eyebrow quirk.

“Uh, yeah.” I managed to chuckle out before his worries started to catch on, and my ability to jump to the worst conclusions got the better of me. “Why, do you not want it to?” I asked, all traces of amusement slipping from my face, and a whole new level of panic rising in Calum’s.

“No!” He said almost too quickly, and he immediately realised what that sounded like and tried to correct it before I had a stroke and died the night before our first official date. “Shit, n-no… Argh, yes! I mean yes!” He closed his eyes for a second and took a breath, letting it out in a small laugh of his own that wasn’t really making me feel better, but he was trying, and that was the main thing.

“I do still want it to happen.” He explained through that small crooked, awkwardly adorable smile. “I’m just… well, I’m kinda nervous.” I shook my head, looking away and trying to hide my blush yet again.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Cal.” I said quietly. I shrugged again before I looked back up at him – but only for a moment. “It’s just me.”

“It’s more than just you, Dallas.” He drawled out, and when I looked up with a cocked eyebrow, Calum was wearing that same pointed look from before. “Anyway, I’m excited too. I like spending time with you.”

The grin I gave back was slow and crooked and filled with warmth and I couldn’t stop it even though I was trying my hardest.

“Me too.” I said simply. My heart was racing again, and it had nothing to do with the caffeine.