#i was planning to do more sketches but my hand got tired -m-;

[crepegosette]

BrArg Week Day 2: Colonial / Paranormal Investigator/Supernatural Being.

“It wasn’t exactly known why the creature was called “Sea Angel”. Some argued that it was because it had a cherubic appearance, with rosy cheeks and cyan eyes. Others proposed that it was because of its voice, which in their words “sounded like an angel singing from heaven”. One person went so far as to say that the creature wasn’t an angel, but one of Death’s many personifications. This one lived in the sea, dragging any unfortunate soul who wandered too far from the coast to their end in the deep blue.”

 “However, one thing was for sure. The Sea Angel wasn’t human. No one in the village knew what it actually was, and almost nobody wanted to go any further and find out. There was an unspoken rule among the townsfolk that you don’t go to the shore after sundown. Something was lurking around there, and that was enough to keep people inside their houses.”

For this one, I kinda mixed up the prompts? Leticia (Brazil) lives in a Brazilian coastal small town at the start of the 19th century while Joaquín (Arg) is a merman hailing from Argentine waters who gets stranded and becomes the center of rumours and myths made up by the local fishermen. One night, Leti goes out for a walk in the beach and finds the “Sea Angel” passed out between the rocks and decides to take him home

[captain-mj]

I'm begging for a second Ghoap Outlander part

Of course!

Ghost tried to escape this weird place. Keyword was try. 

Soap brought him food and untied him again. Ghost waited until he wasn’t looking to grab a small piece of wood to stash up his sleeve. He watched Soap back, getting annoyed with the staring. Soap softened when they made eye contact but Ghost looked away. 

Once he was done eating, Soap set the plate aside and gently tied him up, doing his best not to touch him. It was a small detail, but Ghost appreciated it nonetheless. 

Soap had a pensive look on his face, clearly thinking of something. He scanned over Ghost’s mask before smiling. “Ye look better. More color in your face today.” 

Ghost paused before realizing it was a joke, failing to stifle the small chuckle it got from him. He got flustered and glared at Soap who looked thrilled to get a reaction. 

“Sleep, okay? Ye look tired.” Soap put a blanket over him and left him. 

Ghost started to cut through the binds immediately. It took longer than he would’ve liked, but he managed. He slipped out of the door, surprised by how easy it was to simply break the lock. The hallways were mostly clear, but he still moved quickly. He didn’t want to stick around too long if he could help it. 

The Exit. 

It was so close. Right fucking there. 

Soap caught him just as he saw it and glared at him, arms crossed like he had caught a kid stealing food and not a grown man trying to regain his freedom. 

“Listen up yo-” He started to threaten Soap.

Soap grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder. Ghost was… surprised to say the least. They were the same height and he wasn’t exactly a small person. Soap started to carry him but he noticed he didn’t bring him back to the infirmary room he had been in. Ghost immediately started to fight again. He had no clue what this… deviant was planning on doing with him, but he wanted absolutely no part. 

Soap brought him to a bigger room. It had a bigger bed and it had a flag of some sort on the wall. The flag had a similar pattern to Soap’s clothing and Ghost tried to remember anything about tartans that he could. 

He dropped Ghost on to the bed and shook his head.

“Ghost, you really should not trito escape. You opened your wound again.” He sounded so admonishing that Ghost resisted the urge to salute him. 

Ghost looked down, realizing there was blood dripping through his shirt.

“You need to let me leave. I have people who will be looking for me.”

“No one has yet, so you’re going to stay with me for now.” Soap growled at him, stepping closer and Ghost instinctively leaned away. He roughly moved Ghost so he could lift his shirt and check the wound before rebandaging. The entire time, he kept a steady hand on Ghost’s chest. If Ghost started to breath a little heavier or pant, Soap would order him to breath. It was… odd. Worked like a charm though. Ghost immediately started to breath normally again each and every time.

He glared at Soap who looked amused.

“Once your people come, I will let you go. ‘M keeping ya safe, ya know?” His accent thickened as he looked away. Soap looked almost embarrassed. 

“Am I in your room?”

“You are in my room.” Soap confirmed.

Ghost realized he was sprawled on his bed and quickly sat up.

“You’ll be staying in here since ya don’t know how to behave on yer own.” Soap patted him on his thigh and went to his desk to start drawing again, which is what he was doing before someone told him his prisoner was wandering the halls. He sketched out the landscape quietly, allowing the scratching of the pencil to be the only sound in the room. 

Ghost stayed quiet as well but eventually, the softness of the bed and the bone deep tiredness he had been experiencing since he woke up that morning finally got to him, dragging him into sleep. 

Soap glanced over, seeing him curled up and snoring. He should’ve brought him in here ages ago. Poor guy already seemed more relaxed. 

Soap wished he would take the stupid mask off though. He’d have to think of a way to convince him. Maybe he could beg him. What little glimpses he got of his face meant he knew he was pretty. Very pretty. Even now, where Soap could only see his eyes, he knew he was gorgeous. 

The landscapes could wait. He started to draw Ghost, making sure to include each eyelash, the soft slopes of his body. Soap knew it was all muscle, bastard was heavy but Soap refused to set him down or show weakness, but he had never seen a man with such a…. Small waist in comparison to the rest of him. Despite how big Ghost was, Soap was sure he could fit his arms perfectly around him, pull him flush against his chest. 

Yeah. Ghost was really pretty. 

And Soap was going to make him his. 

[honey-hippie-harper]

In-Laws Being In-Laws (Re-upload)

 Hiii!

So, this is basically an old fic, which I deleted from my other account ( @dawniebb ) and was requested to be uploaded again.

This feels like a lifetime ago afgshjka, but I remember it was written for a Renegades content swap event, and it was for @healing-winston-pratt (hello, wifey!). The prompt was, basically, Nova and one of the Renegays being in-laws, and it was super fun to write! <3

If anyone’s reading this: Hi, you’re a beautiful human being, and I love you <3

In-Laws Being In-Laws

Dear Dread Warden,

I am not quite sure you will get this message because it is been a while since I last used my communicator but, in case you do: I  hope you are having a nice morning. 

The reason I am writing you this is that, as you must already be aware, right now Sketch and his teammates are taking part in the Annual Renegade Convention as special guests to be awarded for their heroic participation in the Second Battle for Gatlon. Hence, they are out of town. Due to my temporary resignation from the team, I declined the offer to attend the event and, for instance, to receive an award. This means that, unlike theirs, my routine remains the same as usual.

Unfortunately, I must see my therapist for my weekly appointment in two hours, and after that I will have to go to the supermarket to pick up some groceries and essential items. Under normal circumstances, given the nature of my relationship with Sketch, he would have driven me to the supermarket and then back to my apartment, as it happens to be located sort of far from the store and it could be pretty difficult for me to walk while carrying all those bags. However, as mentioned before, these are not normal circumstances and Sketch is not currently available.

I reach out to you with no intention to cause trouble; for instance, if I happen to be asking too much or disrupting your schedule (As I am conscious you are a busy person) and you consider you will not be able to help me, I assure you I completely understand. But: Could you pick me up from my therapist's office and take me to the supermarket afterwards?

I apologize for the inconvenience and I promise I will make sure this does not happen again. In addition, I also apologize for the alliteration in the greeting at the beginning of this message. I did not know whether you wanted to be acknowledged by your real name or your alias.

Sincerely,

Insomnia.

-.-

Hi, Insomnia!!!

So nice to see you!... Or should I say read you! Ha! It's been so long, it almost feels like an eternity! I hope therapy is going great! (We're all really proud of you!)

It doesn't bother me at all, sweetheart; of course I'll help you with that. Could you share the location of your therapist's office, please?

Oh, and also: What time do you want me to be there? (Not that I have anything to do today, I just want to be on time).  

I'm excited to see you! Can I take you to eat something afterwards? How does that sound?

Take care!

(Agh. I forgot these things don't actually allow you to write your real  name).

-S i m o n.

(Better).

-.-

He spotted Nova way before parking. She was sitting on a bench outside the building, staring anxiously at her phone. The body language of a nervous person.

Simon stopped the car right in front of where she was, and when she realized he was already here, Nova jumped out of her seat as if it had burned her skin, before jogging in an awkward manner towards the car.

Once she was inside, Simon couldn't help but feel a twinge in his stomach. He wasn't lying when he told her he was excited to see her. In fact, he was more than excited, and he had to hold himself back pretty hard to avoid hugging her, because it was evident she didn't want to be hugged right now, for she just directed a tiny smile at him and said:

"Hi."

She was the same Nova he had met some time ago, but at the same time she was different; she was wearing sneakers, skinny jeans and a basic white v-neck shirt; her hair was a little longer, too, to the point she could tie it in a cute little ponytail; Simon could tell she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but still her face looked healthier than before; less tired, with smaller under-eye dark circles and lips covered in chapstick. Finally.

She looked alive. More than before.

“Hi.” He finally responded.

Watching people get better was always satisfactory, but watching Nova get better was different. He had grown to appreciate her, since the very first moment he saw her with Adrian; since the very first moment he spoke to her and saw nothing but utter heartbreak in her eyes. Nova was hurting, and any sensitive person would’ve noticed that. So, watching her get better was a touching experience for him.

“You look so…”

Nova interrupted him almost immediately.

“I know. I...I barely had time to fix my hair. Gosh. It’s so uncomfortable and I want to cut it but I haven’t had time. I…”

“Oh, no, no, no! Your hair looks gorgeous! “ He chuckled, although he was confused by her reaction. “I was gonna say you look really good. Really, really good. The ponytail looks great on you.”

Nova gulped as she adjusted said ponytail.

“Oh.” She muttered in a hoarse voice. “...Well...Thank you. I thought…”

“No, no.” Simon waved his hand. “You look great. How.... how are you?”

She seemed to be processing the question, even though it was not that difficult.

“I’m…” Nova cleared her throat. “I’m doing great. How are you? How’s ...life going?”

“Absolutely great!” Simon smiled, clapping his hands together. “Things at home are great. You know, Hugh’s not currently here due to the Annual Renegade Convention. Adrian’s not here either (for sure, you already know about that) and Max…”

“Max went too, yeah.” Nova smiled. Her eyes seemed to brighten to the mention of Max’s name. Adrian had mentioned this fact about her a couple of times: Nova was fond of children. And even if she wasn’t, she had a tendency to protect and care about them. Since she had this type of strong personality, Hugh refused to recognize that as a truth, but Simon had no trouble believing it.

It was adorable.

“He called me when he got the invitation. He was eager to go.” She continued. “Which doesn’t surprise me. I...It’s his first time travelling, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” Responded Simon. “We’re planning to go on vacation this year. Because, you know, the convention’s being held not too far away from Gatlon and sadly he’s probably gonna get bored.”

“Bored?” Nova shifted herself in the seat, awkwardly. “Why?”

“Well...those conventions are...well, conventions.” Simon shrugged, smiling at her. “There are a lot of speeches, one after the other and, sure, the guests that represent Gatlon can skip some of them, but others are mandatory and they’re like 2 hours long and it’s so boring and…”

Nova hissed, grimacing, to which Simon nodded in agreement.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to go.” He admitted. “Though I do wanted to be there when Adrian and Max received their award. Too sad.”

Nova tried to speak a couple of times, until she finally had found the correct words to said her thoughts out loud.

“Why...why didn’t you go, then?”

“About that.” Simon chuckled. “Tamaya is going to be there too, as a speaker. And she’s also receiving an award. So...somebody had to take care of the Headquarters and Kasumi and I were left with that responsibility. However, it’s been pretty peaceful, as you may have noticed.”

“I have.” Nova nodded. “Not that I...go out very much, but yeah. Things have been calm.”

“People are behaving for once. And it’s awesome.” he sighed.

Then they stayed in silence. For a while.

Nova stared out the window, avoiding eye contact, while Simon whistled as he tapped his fingers on the wheel.

Not a word. No small talk.

Nothing.

“Sooooo…” Said Simon. “Shall we go?”

“Perhaps we should.” Nova said, immediately, as a flash of relief crossed her face.

So Simon smiled at her once again as he turned on the engine, while Nova put on her seatbelt next to him.

-.-

It took her so little time to come back Simon confirmed she was one of those people who would strategically write their shopping list so they wouldn’t be going back and forth through the aisles. It also surprised him that, being a person so young, she was so...focused on everything.

She really had only bought groceries and essential items. No junk food. No silly things she swore she would need and then she didn’t. Not even candy from the checkout area.

Simon hurried himself out of the car to help her put the bags in the trunk, but once she saw him and guessed his intentions, she quickly said:

“It’s okay. I can do it.”

“I know you can.” He clarified. Because, well, she indeed was a strong person. “But maybe you could use some help. That’s...a couple of bags.”

“Yeah. I know.” Nova nodded, already carrying the first two of the bags. “But I can do it. Please. I’m already causing you too much trouble.”

Simon was yet again confused by her reaction, and he tried to talk to her about it. But just like Nova looked like she didn’t want to be hugged right now, she also looked like she didn’t want to talk about it right now.

So he just opened the trunk for her and held it in case it would go down by its own. It had never happened, but just to be sure. Sometimes Simon’s anxiety made him overanalyze some situations.

Less than 10 minutes had passed by the time Nova finished putting all her stuff in the car, Simon figured she was still training, since she was as agile and fast as she was the day she notified them she would be taking some time off from the team and the Renegades in general.

They got in the car again, and before the silence could get as uncomfortable as the previous one, Simon took the initiative to speak.

“I think...you forgot to answer a part of my message.” He said, carefully. “You know...the part where I told you that maybe we could...go to a restaurant or something?”

Nova’s face, ears and neck turned so red she became a human-shaped cherry, and although in other circumstances he would’ve considered it adorable, this time he couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her. He had been there and done that many times; the messages Nova had sent were peak odd. The type of messages one would overthink over and over again because they had to be perfect. And if something, anything sounded off after you sent it, your world would be in shambles.

So he just smiled to assure it was okay. That he didn’t mind. That those messages didn’t have to be so formal in the first place.

And that, obviously, didn’t work.

For his experience, it never did.

“I...I...Yeah.” Nova scratched her brow. “Pretty much I...I...can recall not knowing how to word that so I just left it blank and I...must’ve forgotten to…”

“Nova.” Simon said, softly. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Did I...offend you or something?”

“Absolutely no!” He said. “Why would you think that? It’s just a slip. I know it wasn’t your intention and to be honest I still want to take you to eat something so...yeah, there’s no reason to get weird about this. There’s no need to worry.”

Nova took a deep, hasty breath. She was flustered, son Simon tried to keep her calm; to make her feel like she was in a safe environment.

Why wouldn’t she be, in the first place?

She was his son’s girlfriend.

Why would he want to hurt her or make her feel bad?

“Nova, darling.” He said again. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“I do.” Nova cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t really...can eat out right now. I barely manage to afford my groceries, you know? It’s been…”

“But you’re not gonna pay your own bill. I mean, why would you do that?” Simon raised an eyebrow at her, genuinely confused, but still laughing nervously. Sweet rot, who had hurt this child so much? “ I’m the one who’s taking you to eat. You wouldn’t have to…”

“You don’t have to either!” She snapped. Not mad, but rather distressed, while breathing heavily.

Simon went still, afraid he would make it worse. Still, he couldn’t leave it like that, so he gulped and, once he reunited enough courage, he dared to speak again.

“What’s really on your mind, Nova?” He asked, this time in a more soothing voice. Nova’s whole being went red again, but the shadow of confusion in her expression was noticeable and hard to ignore. For this reason, Simon decided to provide some kind of scaffolding.

“For example: Why would you write a message that is directed to me in such a formal way?” He asked, patiently. “Why would you ask me to pick you up as if you were asking me to help you commit a crime? Why would you act so uncomfortable around me when it’s not the first time that we’ve met? Why would you…?”

“Because it’s you.” Nova answered, avoiding eye contact.

And he expected that answer, yes. But, at the same time, he expected to understand the statement once it slipped out of her mouth.

However, he didn’t.

“Can you elaborate?” He requested.

Nova clicked her tongue as she rubbed her neck, staring at the dash right in front of her.

“...I can disappear if you want me to. Would that make you feel more comfortable?”

“No. No, no.” Nova nodded, waving her hands, finally looking at him. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Then...would you tell me what’s wrong?”

Nova thought about it. She squirmed in her seat. Gulped. Coughed. Squirmed again.

Then, playing with her own hands, she spoke.

“...I’m ashamed.”

“Ashamed of what…?” Simon tilted his head to the side. “Ashamed of who…? What exactly are you ashamed of? ...Dating Adrian?”

Nova flinched.

“I would never.”

A spark of pride illuminated his thoughts and his insides in general, but Simon tried to pay little attention to it.

“I’m just...ashamed. Of everything.” Nova said, sighing. “I…”

And she cut herself in the middle of the phrase, realizing that once again she wouldn’t be able to finish it.

Simon didn’t realize he was frowning until he felt the muscles of his face slowly giving in. He understood.

And he knew that anything that had happened during the Second Battle for Gatlon had been her fault. She might have contributed in some way but, at the end of the day, she was just a child.

A very confused and manipulated child who just needed someone to listen without twisting her words as they pleased.

“...I just think that...if I were you I wouldn’t like me either.” She wasn’t crying, nor did she sound like she was about to any time soon. There was so much resignation in her voice that her words weighted as much as a giant rock. “Hugh gave me his blessing to...you know, date Adrian…”

“I can recall giving you my blessing too.”

Nova tripped on her own words.

“I mean, you did. You both did.” She said. “But still… It’s because… because you want him to be happy. And I get it. I really do. And I understand because, like I said, I wouldn’t like me either...I know I am loved. I know I matter for some people...but I also know I did...bad things, and I carry this sort of cursed last name…”

She stopped and breathed for a second before continuing.

“And I…” She finally looked at him. “I get it. You don’t have to pretend you like me, after all that happened. After I stole stuff from your house; infiltrated into your system; caused a terrorist attack...You really don’t have to pretend.”

Simon blinked, and if it wasn’t for her specific and controlled body language, he would’ve thought she was making excuses or even joking.

But Nova was telling the truth.

And it was heartbreaking.

“Perhaps you should think outside the box and picture a scenario in which you realize we’re not pretending.” That’s the only thing he said.

“Perhaps you should realize that we love you and you matter to us.” He reached for her hand and softly touched her knuckles. Her hands were shaking. “And that, yes, we want Adrian to be happy, but we also want you to be happy.”

Nova’s eyes seemed to be covered in crystals, but she remained in silence.

“You’re part of this family now, Nova.” He smiled. “And I’m sorry, but you’ll have to deal with that.”

Nova sniffed, swallowing, while lacing her hand into Simon’s.

“Artino and everything?” She muttered.

“Artino it’s not what defines you.” Simon chuckled. “You’re Nova. Just Nova... And we’re really proud of you. Not ashamed.”

She smiled back at him, wordless, and Simon gave her a quick handshake before putting his hands around the wheel.

Because even now, that her walls were crumbling right before her eyes, she didn’t look like someone who wanted to be hugged at the moment, and he accepted and respected that.

“I was planning to take you to my favorite restaurant, but maybe we can prepare a homemade meal instead?” He suggested. “You know? In-laws being in-laws? … Not to brag, but I make the best lemon pie in the world.”

Nova chuckled. Relaxed.

Happy.

“Sounds great.” She said, nodding.

“Excellent.” Simon turned on the engine.

“Let’s go home.”

[karlyfr13s]

Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt. 

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as  the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its  charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

[lizzart-zardonicz]

• General art advice/ how to get  started in digital painting •

First of all, thank you for the ask and the opportunity to spread some tips regarding how I got started in digital art and how I learned. Please note that I don’t consider myself a professional, this is just pure self-taught “skill” I gathered over the years. Let’s get started!

1. Your canvas and settings (I will use Photoshop CC as an example because it’s the industry norm for digital art and that’s what I use daily). • Sketch and lay out your drawing on a slightly gray/darker canvas so you don’t hurt your eyes! Staring on a white background for a long time tires you out and gives you headaches. • If you plan on drawing a portrait or human, use a brown/dark reddish color to sketch out the shapes on a separate layer, so it’s easier blendable with the skin tone later on and you won’t have black spots. If you established a base tone for your portrait, use “Overlay” or “Multiply” on the sketch layer to blend in the sketch. This is a method I use very often for quick portraits. • Size your canvas appropriately: I used to draw on 72 DPI which was fine for smaller applications/emotes but as soon as I started posting stuff online or sent it out for printing, the needed size is 300-450 DPI. Brushes will show up differently as well depending on your canvas size. Remember: It’s much easier to size your canvas down than to enlarge it once you’ve finished a drawing.  2. Drawing & learning • Besides learning anatomy and the structure of the face, I wanted to share some tips regarding values and shading since that’s a topic I struggle most with. Also, there are plenty videos on how to draw anatomy and how to simplify a face on Youtube! (My favorite art teachers on youtube are Marc Brunet, Atey Ghailan, Adam Duff and Ahmed Aldoori). • Refrain from watching too many speed paint videos, rather watch in depth lessons in real time and draw alongside with them! • Before you start with color, learn how to use values. The easiest way to do that is by drawing only in black & white. 

• Doing fan art to learn anatomy, values or color is great! My obsession with white haired video game characters (*looks at Vergil & Dante*) got me started in digital art.  • DO NOT BE AFRAID to experiment, to fail or to try again.  • Also don’t delete any of your sketches, old drawings, they are all beautiful and one day you will go back and see how much you’ve progressed even if it’s just one tiny aspect like a button or a certain shape. • DO NOT overload yourself with learning EVERYTHING at once. You cannot master them all. Focus on one thing and split it up into groups. For example: You want to learn how to draw humans more realistically. Pick one part of the human body, e. g. the face. Focus on that. Now, you have to pick again. What do you want to learn/need to improve about the face? Maybe it’s the nose or the eyes, and then you solely focus on that. This way, you will train your brain to memorize the shapes.  • Nobody expects you to draw perfectly! Improve for yourself instead for others.  • Something that probably many others have told you: Just draw. The more you use a skill, the better you get at it. It’s like a video game in that sense lol.

3. Technical equipment • I use a Wacom Intuos Pro M tablet and for a few weeks now I’ve been practicing with a Wacom Cintiq 24 Pro. Both tablets are great. Cintiq is a display tablet which allows you to directly draw on the screen. The biggest difference for me tho is the price. In my personal experience, it doesn’t matter if you have a display tablet or not. It’s all about the brain/hand coordination anyway.  • Photoshop is annoying with its monthly payment, but it is the digital art industry standard program. Some professionals also use Clip Studio Paint, which is also a great option! I’m currently learning how to set up CSP properly so I can make the transition one day. • Make sure your monitors are calibrated correctly! That will impact the values, colors and overall look of your drawings. I used to draw a lot darker because I messed with my monitor’s brightness too much. Also google for gamma tests, they are pretty useful and very simple to apply. Hope this helps a bit. If you have any specific questions, let me know. ♥

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 5

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The daughter of House Caspian begins to realize her place in a world of strict tradition and hierarchy. A tragedy strikes Winterfell, bringing her closer to the Starks.

The brush slid across the thick paper, making a beautifully straight line. The black paint was bold against the paper, which wasn’t completely white, but it was the closest she’d seen, almost as white as snow. What a wonderful birthday gift. Y/N had a thin wooden palette that she perched on her lap, allowing her to take the paper anywhere and paint what she saw. She already had ideas of what to send Ned, although transporting a painting without damaging it would be troublesome. Maybe it was best to just keep it in Winterfell until he came back? He had to return soon, he was seventeen. It had to be soon.

It’s what Lyanna talked about often, and Y/N didn’t blame her. She wanted him back too, though maybe for different reasons. She was pleased he still kept writing to her, entertaining her childish whims, although she didn’t feel childish anymore. They didn’t talk about ‘childish’ topics, either, it was always… all sorts of things. Y/N  could write to Ned about anything on her mind, and he did the same.

I hope we can talk as easily. What if he comes back and I don’t know what to say? Y/N wondered if that was a silly thought. She refocused on her painting, dabbing a small brush into the paints she’d set up beside her. There weren’t many colors to work with, but that made it an interesting challenge. The training yard was busy this late, so she had plenty of subjects to observe. Painting moving figures was a new challenge. It wouldn’t be a perfect still life, instead, she’d try her own composition of movement and action.

Y/N hummed to herself as she worked. She had only two hours before the sun would set, but she was confident she could finish the rest of it in her room.

“Don’t most girls paint flower fields and vases?”

“I’m a lady,” Y/N responded. She didn’t look up from her painting right away, wanting to finish a few more brush strokes. “You should always be gracious to a lady, especially if you’re a future ‘Lord Stark’.”

Brandon grinned. “I was going to scare you, but I decided to be nice instead. That’s very gracious, I think.”

Now you sound like your little brother. Y/N set her brush down next to the paints. She observed Brandon was still in his traveling clothes. “When did you return?”

“Just over an hour ago. It was a slow ride, Ser Roderick wouldn’t let me go ahead of the escort.”

“There’s a reason for that.” Y/N smiled at his impatience. “How was the Rills?”

“The same as always. Next week I’m going to see Lord Manderly. While I’m there, I could stop by your family’s castle. Perhaps I could bring a gift to them.”

“That would be wonderful. You know they would love to have your company, my lord.”

Brandon’s smile was infectious, Y/N had to admit. Thank the gods he was over that irritating phase he had before, acting like he was too grown-up and superior to bother with Y/N and his younger siblings. Well, he could still be irksome to Benjen and Lyanna, but they paid him back tenfold with their usual mischief. Y/N was just pleased he acted like the lord he should be around her. Pleasantries made things easier, and it really would be kind of him to bring her father a pelt or her mother a rare book.

Right now, he was leaning over to see what she was painting, as he’d often been doing the past year. She knew he had no interest in art, but he still made a point to ask about what she was working on.

It’s good for him to at least feign interest and learn about others. Maybe all those scoldings from Lord and Lady Stark are finally sinking in. Y/N thought. She showed him what she’d been working on, groups of men at swordplay. “They’re finally used to my sketching, I think. At first they gave me peculiar looks.”

“It’s because you were staring.” That charming smile turned to an amusing pout. “You shouldn’t be staring at strange men, Y/N, or drawing them.”

“They aren’t strange at all! I know their names, and they’re sworn men, besides. Are you just upset I haven’t drawn you?”

She was teasing like Lyanna and Benjen did, but he didn’t respond like she thought. Brandon actually huffed. “Better me than some old guardsman.”

“Sit down, then.” Y/N gestured to the seat next to her on the bench, the side not covered in paints and paper. “Portraits are always good practice.”

Brandon looked at the spot, only waiting a moment before taking a seat. He was still windblown from the road, smelling like horses and leather, but it wasn’t too unpleasant. Y/N fought the urge to smooth out his hair — it was such a mess, but he wasn’t a boy. Even Benjen was getting too old for her fussing.

“So you know, I’m not the sort to embellish.” Y/N said, her hand darting across a blank piece of paper. Messy sketches were fine for something like this. “So I will be drawing that unruly hair and those red ears.”

“They aren’t red,” Brandon grumbled and rubbed at the ears in question.

Y/N didn’t look up from her drawing. “They are. So are your cheeks. Are you cold?”

“I’d be a poor Stark if weather like this got me cold. Shouldn’t you be concentrating?”

“I am.” Y/N had to glance up to make sure the eye shape was right. Brandon had such an amusing expression, it was making her work difficult. “If you could be still, it would be easier.”

Brandon said nothing to that, only furrowing his brows further. It was startling how much he looked like Lord Stark, while Lyanna took after her mother. Benjen was a clear mix of the two, but all of them had that long face and dark coloring. She pictured Ned’s face in her mind, trying to remember the last time she saw him. Gods, was that three years ago? Maybe four? He must look so different now. Taller, with a proper sword and the skills to back it up - and what about those grey eyes? Would they be darker or lighter? Did he finally cut that brown hair, to better fit in with the Eyrie, or did he keep it long and Northern?

“What are you smiling about?” Brandon asked.

“Oh, nothing.” Y/N said Someone in the distance drew her attention away, which she was grateful for. She waved at him. “Ben!”

Brandon scowled at his little brother walked up. Benjen was already taller than Y/N, thanks to his spindly limbs. He looked around at the art supplies and Brandon’s awkward posture. “I hate it say it, but you’d be better off with a different subject, Y/N. There’s only so much you can do with this one.”

Benjen dodged out of the way of his older brother’s grip. His reflexes were nothing to sneeze at. “Big words from a skinny rat!” Brandon said, getting up to grab at his brother again, but Benjen was too quick. The older Stark may have been as big as his father now, but he had a certain … lack of grace. No doubt he was tired from the trip, too.

“Should I use smaller words?” Benjen easily danced around him.

“Do this somewhere else!” Y/N laughed. That was the end of the little sitting session, then. Brandon couldn’t be still after getting riled up; he was like a dog in that way. “Be careful, would you?”

“I’m just going to teach him a lesson—!” Brandon said, finally getting Benjen in his grasp. He cursed when his brother easily twisted out of his grip and hit his nose. It wasn’t a real punch, but it still hurt, and Brandon shook his head while Benjen unhooked his sword from his belt.

“Thanks!” Benjen scurried off, carrying the sword that was too heavy for him to actually wield. Y/N rolled her eyes at how Brandon predictably ran after him with a fresh new string of curses. He had only been home a few hours before he was going back to silliness with his brother. Lyanna would have joined in too, had she been here. Their latest pasttime was stealing the beautiful new sword Brandon was so proud of. Benjen just liked to stir up trouble, but Lyanna was sour she couldn’t have steel of her own.

What has she been doing today? Y/N hadn’t seen much of her friend today. Lyanna didn’t enjoy the last feast, which was a small affair - only half a dozen families were there, and not all their members - but she was still put off. Y/N hadn’t known Lyanna to retire before her, but that night, she did. It was usually the fatigued Lady Stark that was the early departure, not her fiery daughter.

Thinking about it now, Lyanna was unusually quiet through breakfast this morning, and she had been riding most of the day. Y/N considered that maybe she should have gone with her, even if being near a horse still made her shudder. She could have at least sat on the edge of the riding field and watched Lyanna. Maybe she wanted to be alone. If she really wanted me there, I know she would have dragged me.

With all her art supplies carefully packed up, Y/N returned to the castle and planned to find out what Lyanna’s mood was. I could be overthinking everything. We’re women now, four and ten years, we don’t have to cling about each other anymore.

Y/N nodded to the servants and guards when she saw them, giving a smile to those she knew well. They had long been familiar, pleasant faces that she relied upon. It recently occurred to Y/N that she knew them better than the servants of Whitetide, whose faces were rapidly disappearing from her memory. Maybe if her parents didn’t visit twice or thrice a year, and if she didn’t love them so much, she’d begin to lose their faces, too.

Their shared bedchamber was warm from a low-burning fire in the hearth. Y/N set her supplies down on her desk before shedding her thick cloak. It was fastened with a lovely silver manta ray that had a tiny pearl for an eye, a gift from Lady Stark herself. Y/N’s name day had passed a few months ago, and while her parents couldn’t visit, her second family was right there beside her. Lady Stark’s hands had become pale and thin, but she still wanted to fasten the pin herself after presenting it to Y/N. Then she patted her head like adults did to children, but Y/N couldn’t mind it.

Y/N was so caught up in turning the little manta ray in her hands, she didn’t hear the bedroom door open and close. The stomping of feet made her jump, and she swiveled to see Lyanna yanking off her riding boots and shaking the snow off them in the most unladylike way.

“So you were riding all day,” Y/N said, setting the pin into her modest jewelry box. She offered a smile. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

Lyanna didn’t respond right away. She pulled at her cloak instead, tossing it on one of the chairs by the hearth. Y/N’s smile fell. There was an obvious dark cloud around her friend. Lyanna kicked her boots aside and huffed as she sank into an overstuffed chair. She was becoming too leggy to curl up into it like a child.

“Why in the seven hells can I not wear riding trousers?” She said irritably. “I’m sure the washerwomen are sick of cleaning the smell out of my dresses.”

Y/N sat in the chair across from her, settling herself into it. “And the horsehair.”

“It itches terribly. If I had a tunic, it wouldn’t be so bothersome, nor would the branches in my way.” Lyanna picked a leaf off her sleeve. Trouble was brewing in her grey eyes. There was fire in them even without the hearth lighting her face, a natural energy that possessed her entire person. Lyanna was more wolf than any of them, and when she hunched in the chair with her long legs drawn to her chest, she looked like a trapped one.

Y/N waited for her to speak first. There was something on her friend’s mind, but she had to find the words. Once she had them, Lyanna said, “You weren’t bothered at that feast. The last one, with the Karstarks and Glovers and Cassels.”

It was strange for her to bring it up now, but Y/N had just been thinking about it as well. Overall, Y/N would dare to say she enjoyed herself, even if the Karstark boys were too blunt in their desire to dance with her.

“I wasn’t too bothered. It wasn’t as crowded as it usual; I could hear the music for once. I was able to dance for a while, and the lords and their sons behaved.” Y/N didn’t know what else to say. “You left early. You didn’t want to dance?”

“Of course not!” Lyanna responded so sharply, it startled her old friend. “Why would I? Why would you?”

Y/N had no idea what Lyanna meant by that. That embarrassing dance with Roose Bolton a year ago had made her self-conscience of how clumsy her movements were. Lady Stark was delighted that Y/N took an interest in learning grace and how to carry herself better; and didn’t it make sense to test it out? Now that she didn’t overthink the steps, she could enjoy the exercise and the music. The company was good, and when she was tired, she japed around with Benjen and little Jory.

With all those racing thoughts, Y/N simply said, “I enjoy dancing, if that’s what you mean. What’s the matter with that?”

Lyanna shook her head, her brown hair falling farther out of a braid that was already coming undone. She’d lost another set of silk hair ribbons. “I don’t know how you stand it. You’re just a prize to them, you know, a bauble. You shouldn’t even amuse them. Neither of us should.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The men! The lords or their sons, whichever! We’re just stupid little brides to them. Didn’t you notice them looking at you? Shoving their sons at you? Lord Karstark had them all lined up! And even if they’re married, they’ll leer!”

“That’s… that’s ridiculous, Lyanna,” Y/N stammered. “Where did this come from?”

“Y/N, we’re women grown now!” Lyanna was bursting with energy and frustration that she couldn’t get out fast enough. “My mother married at six and ten! It’s nearly time for us, time for arrangements! Soon every lord will be nibbling at my father’s heels to take me off his hands, and no doubt your own lord father has received letters from all the ones you danced with.”

“Lyanna. Did someone tell you something?” Y/N asked. She was already trying to avoid thinking of the future, and Lyanna had never discussed it with her. She thought her friend didn’t think of it at all. “Before you, Brandon will marry, and that hasn’t even been discussed.”

“Of course it has! Why would they tell us? They can marry me off without finding him a bride, and without asking what I think.” Her cheeks were burning with red anger now. “I’m a Stark, so I can’t stay in the North. They’ll send me away somewhere — somewhere South, because where else? I’ll have to leave Winterfell, while my brothers and everyone I love stay!”

Y/N went to Lyanna, taking her hands in her own. She squeezed them tight. “Where did all this come from? Have your parents been talking?”

“No one needs to tell me. It’s the truth, isn’t it?” Lyanna said, looking Y/N right in the eyes. “That’s what we’ve got to look forward to, Y/N. The feasts aren’t meant to be fun for us. Maybe for the men, but not for us. We’re there to be picked and chosen, like prize fillies.”

Lyanna squeezed their hands tight, so tight it hurt right away. She stared at Y/N’s clean nails and smooth palms. Except for the occasional smudges from paint, they were always like this. Lyanna looked at her own, already becoming calloused at the palms and thumb, often edged with dirt around her nailbeds.

Y/N was at a loss. Her friend’s harsh words were true enough; she was well aware of what their duties as women were. It crossed her mind now and again, the thought of marriage and that she’d have to return home eventually so her parents could begin to plan. She’d push those thoughts away, hoping the day would come slowly. She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, or her dear friends.

Still, she said, “It… It has to happen eventually. Our parents aren’t cruel, they wouldn’t give us terrible husbands, and they’d talk to us before any arrangement. When we have to leave Winterfell —”

“You won’t.” Lyanna pulled their hands apart. “You’ll be staying here, Y/N, and I’ll be sent away.”

“What? No, when my parents are ready arrange a match, they’ll call me back to Whitetide.”

“You aren’t going back! Isn’t it obvious? You’re going to marry one of my brothers!”

After that statement, the only sound in the bedroom was the crackling of the fire. Lyanna didn’t back down. In this light, her Stark eyes weren’t grey at all, only hot steel.

“How do you know that?” Y/N said. With the loss of Lyanna’s hands, she nervously tugged at end of her long sleeves. “Did … did someone say —?”

“No one has to! I thought you knew! You’re fourteen, a woman grown, and my parents haven’t sent you back, nor have your’s asked for you. When they meet, they’re always whispering and glancing around. Brandon will marry outside the North, as the oldest son, and Ned will marry inside, as the second. Benjen will serve Winterfell. It’s how these matters are done, Y/N.”

Y/N’s throat closed as she choked up. Her blood was rushing in discomfort. She didn’t want to fight, she wished they could just change the subject. What brought this on? She’d never seen Lyanna in a mood like this. “You don’t — you don’t know that. Maybe my parents will send for me in a month. We don’t know.”

“Maybe they will, but when it’s time for you to leave, they’ll send me away, too. There’s a reason mother doesn’t care if I spurn the lordlings here.”

Lyanna’s anger had broken again, now it was just frustration and sadness. The two girls stood in silence. The flames of the fire made shadows in the room, and that was the only thing that moved for some time. The shadows seemed to grasp at the two of them, little fingers reaching for their dresses and hair. Y/N was the one who stepped forward, wanting to make it better.

“We’ll always be friends,” Y/N said, trying to keep her own choked up voice steady. “No matter what. I won’t ever forget you. I’ll write you a dozen letters a month if you get sent to the south.”

Lyanna was tired. She couldn’t attempt a smile, but she said, “That’s more than you write to Ned. If he ended up in a green field instead of a mountain, would you have sent more?”

“No, the dozen is only for you.” Y/N said, even if she cursed the slowness of her letters to the Eyrie so many times, it felt like a mantra. She touched Lyanna’s shoulder. “Let’s ready for supper, Lyanna. You’ve been riding a long time.”

Lyanna only reluctantly went along with her. After dinner, they changed into their nightgowns and brushed each other’s hair, as usual, but there was no laughter and joking this time. When they huddled under the furs, Lyanna faced away, still deep in her thoughts. Y/N didn’t know what else to say, if anything at all would help, so she closed her eyes.

“What are you reading?” Benjen’s long hair swung back and forth as he hung upside down.  Y/N looked up, wondering when he managed to scramble right above her. Just a few minutes ago he was struggling to get on the first branch.

“A letter,” Y/N said, “Although I think you already knew that.”

Benjen grinned. “I did, and I know who it’s from.” He swung back up on the branch and easily moved himself to a standing position. He reached for another branch and lifted himself with ease, starting his disappearance into the leaves. With each branch he climbed, a few leaves fell down. Y/N pulled one from her hair.

She rested against the trunk and returned to her letter. Ned was writing about Robert’s attempt at jousting. He much preferred the melee, but ladies preferred the jousting, he said. Y/N was pleased Ned stayed out of all that. He also tried to doodle a little manta ray, in response to the direwolves and cats and deer she often drew on the margins of her letters. They were… arrow-y looking. Close enough.

I’ll have to pick up some skills from you the next time we meet. I don’t think I’d be a good student, but just watching you paint with my own eyes would be enough. You’ve written about it before, but I think hearing you talk about it would be much different. I want to you to tell me.

Y/N closed the letter hastily, wondering if her beating heart and sweaty palms were showing on her face. She glanced around and caught eyes with Brandon. She kept noticing his staring in the past hour, even though he was across the training yard trying to practice. It was a little strange. Are there leaves in my hair again? She touched her hair from the top of her head to her pearl. Brandon seemed annoyed, so she’d prefer he kept his gaze to himself.

The tree branches shook above her, and she heard feet scuffling around. “Ben, be careful!” Y/N called upward. “You shouldn’t climb so high!”

Benjen either didn’t hear her, or was pretending to not hear. Y/N sighed, folding her letter, stashing it in her belt and standing up. She craned her head, trying to spy the wiry boy through the leaves. He may have been a year younger, but she fretted over him from time to time, thinking of her little brothers back in Whitetide.

“Maybe he’ll climb high enough to catch a cloud and float away.” Brandon was beside her before she knew it, and Y/N was glad he didn’t seem as bothered as she thought. On the contrary, he was amused.

“Maybe,” Y/N giggled. She heard more rattling, but it didn’t sound like leaves. It was metal chains, and coming from a different direction. Behind the two of them, the maester approached them as fast as he could, the old man breathing hard as the chains swayed around his neck. He didn’t seem to care about the mud dirtying the end of his robes.

“What’s happened?” Brandon asked while the maester tried to catch his breath. In all the years she’d been here, Y/N had never seen the man so harried, and it seemed neither had Brandon. For a panicked, irrational moment, Y/N thought there was a raven from Whitetide. Dark wings, dark words.

“Lady… Lady Stark has … a … an illness.” The maester took a deep breath, attempting to compose himself. “She has been … weak, as you know, but … it’s far worse than I thought. She needs to be kept apart from everyone else at the Keep. When was the last time you spoke with her, children?”

Brandon took a moment to respond. “This morning, I talked with her, she— she hugged me, but —”

The maester shook his head. “And you, Lady Y/N?”

“Last night, at dinner,” Y/N said quietly. “She took my hand…”

She remembered the kind gesture, and now weary and pale Lady Stark looked. That night, her eyes looked especially tired. She’d begun to hold onto her husband or one of the servants when she walked to and from her room, the place she stayed in the most nowadays. No one seemed to want to talk about her worsening condition, not even the Lady herself. Out of respect to her, no one mentioned it openly.

The leaves danced around them as Benjen swooped down from a low branch. “Can’t we see her?”

“I just said you cannot,” The maester said. “She will be kept away from here on, and we will burn her things and anything she has come in contact with. Now, if the three of you will come with me, I’ve already spoken with Lord Stark and Lyanna…”

Lady Lyarra Stark died within a week. The children heard of the passing suddenly, as her husband was the only one who could visit her through her last days. No amount of guards or a maester’s lecturing would keep Lord Stark from her bedside.

Y/N stood next to Lyanna at the funeral, allowing her friend to clutch her as they all prayed in the godswood. Lady Stark’s bones had been kept in a beautifully engraved wooden chest, and they would be moved to a place of honor in the crypts, but that was little comfort to the children she left behind.

Y/N said some prayers aloud, mouthed others, but kept her head down the entire time. She heard the servants of Winterfell crying and praying, and clearer than that, Lyanna’s crying into the fur draped around Y/N’s shoulder. Her voice was muffled, but Y/N could still feel her body shaking. Y/N herself was trying to keep her tears from rolling down her face. The warmth of them stung her cold cheeks terribly.

Benjen was quiet on the other side of her, staring up at the red leaves like he was in a daze. Brandon seethed beside his father, who was as old as the stone lords in the crypts. Y/N was anxious to see Lord Stark’s expression, knowing it would either scare her or make her tears come faster.

The Starks stayed behind to keep vigil while the servants and guards returned to the keep. Y/N didn’t know how long she stayed kneeling in the snow. She listened to Lyanna’s quieting tears and remembering the kindnesses Lady Stark had given her. Anytime Y/N missed her own mother, Lady Stark was ready to speak with her, to teach her something, or hold her for a while. Y/N couldn’t imagine how the others felt. She thought of her mother now, safe in Whitetide, and desperately wished she could see her.

“Return to the keep,” Lord Stark said after some time. Y/N still didn’t know how long they’d been outside. “All of you.”

“Father —” Brandon started.

“Go.”

Their lord father’s voice was hoarse and hard. He didn’t look at any of his children as they slowly stood around him. Y/N’s legs had gone completely numb from both the cold and kneeling. She wobbled, and Lyanna tried to help her stay upright, no doubt just as weak-legged herself. Benjen found his way to his sister’s side, holding onto her like she held onto Y/N. It reminded Y/N of when he was younger, tagging alongside the two of them.

Y/N glanced back, noticing that Brandon was still trying to linger by his father. She didn’t know if they exchanged words, but eventually Brandon caught up to them as they walked back to the keep.

They all walked slowly, and the Winterfell that greeted them was eerily quiet. The kitchen staff worked with no cheer or haste, the smith’s anvil was quiet, there were no carts or wagons being pulled through the gate. At the feast hall, the candles were burning low, and there was only one servant tending to the cleaning the floors. Her scrubbing was interrupted by intermittent sniffling.

Ned couldn’t be here, Y/N thought not for the first time. Her heart sunk into her gut, making her feel sick. She knew the others were thinking the same. What could I say? What could I possibly say?

She mechanically walked to the main parlor, sitting down at the windowsill. Lyanna sat by the hearth, Benjen sat beside his sister, and Brandon had split off from them quickly. Y/N looked out the window, glad it faced away from the Godswood. She had a feeling if it did, she’d see Lord Stark still kneeling in the snow. She recalled Ned told her the Eyrie’s godswood was more of a little forest, and her heart ached even further. It almost made her cry again. How are the gods supposed to watch over him? Or hear him when he’s in trouble?

She would wait for Lord Stark to send word, if it hadn’t already been done, then she’d send a letter to Ned herself. She’d paint something, too, something special. She’d do anything, if only she knew what that was. Why couldn’t he be here? Y/N rubbed at her raw eyes and rested her head against the cool glass of the window, letting the chill hit her dizzying, exhausted head.

Y/N stirred and sat up slowly. Her head was aching from the awkward angle she fell asleep at. She squinted out the window, but there was only darkness. Across the room, the fire was low, and a chill was settling in the room. Y/N pulled her fur cloak closer around her and shivered. Where was everyone?

She slipped off the windowsill and wandered the halls. If it was dinnertime, no one woke her up, and she didn’t smell meats cooking as she entered the great hall. Y/N stepped outside into the fresh snow, wondering if the day had all been a terrible dream.

It wasn’t, though, and she couldn’t hide from it. People died all the time, especially women and children. If it wasn’t this sickness, Lady Stark may have died in childbirth. That was a far more common fate, something Y/N would have to worry about herself one day. Some day soon.

She sighed heavily and hesitated at the edge of the godswood. The darkness was all around her, with the warmth and light of Winterfell far behind. She took a step forward, letting her boot sink into the snow. The moon was waning, giving off the slightest light. The white bark of the trees and the snow glowed on a full moon, but tonight, they disappeared.

One foot in front of the other, the snow crunched below Y/N’s feet. She kept thinking about Ned, imagining his expression, what he would say — she would never know, of course, and that made it worse. She could only write and draw, there was no holding and comforting. The thought of holding him hit her so strongly, her body ached. Lady Stark held her when she worried about her uncle at sea, when she caught sick or when she hurt herself. Y/N wanted to hold Ned like that, even if he was far bigger than she. Maybe this was a stupid, girlish, childish thought. Maybe it was, but stupid words on paper didn’t seem like enough.

There was a clear path that let to the heart tree, but the darkness didn’t help her navigate, a strange noise did. It made her jump at first, but there were no wolves in these woods. She listened carefully. There was the distinct sound of someone shuffling around in the snow, like they were standing up. Y/N anxiously wondered if it was Lord Stark. No, he can’t be here still. It’s been half a day …

She jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice call out, echoing off the snow and the trees. “Who goes there?!”

“I-It’s only me,” Y/N started, ready to apologize to Lord Stark, but the voice sounded off. Too young, too angry. “…Brandon? Is that you?”

The person didn’t respond, but she heard boots trudging clumsily through the snow. She felt a presence next to her, and finally she could see his outline. Y/N reached forward and was surprised to not touch a fur cloak or thick surcoat, but a fairly thin tunic that was frigid cold, and the stiff muscles underneath it. Brandon didn’t flinch away from her, so she kept her hold on his forearms.

“Brandon, come inside.” Y/N said. Her own voice was weak, she realized, and she was already shivering. “It’ll get colder, and it’s already so dark. How long have you been here?”

Brandon sniffled, both from the cold and the tears, she assumed. “Father hasn’t come in. I was waiting …”

Y/N shook her head. He must have come right outside after realizing it was dark and Lord Stark still hadn’t returned to the keep. “You can’t stay out here all night. Come inside. Please?”

Brandon didn’t seem easy on his feet, and he was trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “I-I have a vigil to keep. I have to — father is, s-so I should at least try…”

“You’re cold, and exhausted, besides. You ran out here without anything, you fool. Why aren’t you wearing a cloak?”

He mumbled something in return. Y/N pulled the tall boy toward her, wanting to urge him toward the light in the distance. She was ready to give him her modest cloak, just enough to serve until they reached the warmth of Winterfell, but then he wrapped his arms around her. Y/N let out a noise of surprise as his head slumped on her shoulder. Brandon was heavy, but she kept steady. For a moment, it was all still: The godswood around them, Brandon in her arms, the night above them.

Y/N was about to speak, but then she heard a noise, like a deep gasp. Brandon shook from the cold and his own emotion. Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him cry.

Robert shook his leg impatiently, causing the thick heel of his boot to tap against the floor again and again. Normally Lord Arryn would chastise him for his restlessness, but the two of them had been quiet for days. Robert didn’t like quiet, or gloominess. He didn’t want to stay like this a minute longer.

“Has he left his room yet?” Robert asked for the third time.

“Be patient, Robert.” Lord Arryn replied expectedly. “Recall that terrible day you endured.”

He didn’t have to recall his own parents’ demise. Robert thought about it often, a wound that was still fresh, and it only closed up when he drank enough or when a pretty girl sat by him. It’d come back afterward, though, and then he had Ned to talk to.

He shouldn’t have to go through the same thing, Robert thought irritably. The worst part is, he knew Ned wouldn’t want a drink or a pretty girl, or a fight, or a new horse. He would just sit in his own sorrow, brooding in that way he did. The young Baratheon huffed, shifting his restless energy to tapping his fingers on the table. Ned was always talking him out of trouble and listening to his worries — the only person he’d ever spoken to about them. But what did Robert ever do for him?

The Baratheon heir growled in frustration and stood from his seat abruptly. Lord Arryn only glanced up a moment, but Robert was already gone.

He barged into Ned’s room, and was half disappointed Ned wasn’t there — he’d been sitting vigil at the Eyrie’s godswood for too damned long, but that made this next part easier. Ned had several of his girl’s paintings up around his desk, where anyone could see them, but Robert knew where he kept the letters. He opened the bottom drawer and in a wooden box with the direwolf sigil, and there they were.

Robert had read some before. Sometimes Ned would read things aloud, sometimes Robert snuck in here, but they were never that exciting. Always talking about Winterfell or what the horses were doing, nothing salacious like a proper love letter should be. Still, they made Ned happy. Robert picked a few out and tucked them carefully in his doublet.

The grass crunched under his boots as he entered the godswood. The fiery red leaves and snow-white bark looked out of place amongst the rocky Eyrie, he always thought, especially when there was bright green grass and regular trees around the weirwoods. He spotted Ned at the same place he’d been for hours, kneeling. His head was lowered slightly, some of his long brown hair falling around him, and Robert wondered if he was asleep. Then Ned raised his head and turned it.

“Robert?”

“Brought you something.” Robert said. Ned wasn’t getting up, so he awkwardly knelt beside him. Gods, it was murder on the knees, and even in that position he was far taller than Ned. Robert retrieved the letters from his doublet and handed them over.

Ned looked at them with hope, then confusion.

“They aren’t new,” Robert said, chuckling. “I just … I remembered you liked these ones. Y/N was writing something about a festival? And Lyanna stole a sword off your brother. Y/N wrote about her dress, and something about a horse…”

He trailed off, wondering if this was a stupid idea. He was terrible at this. These were the letters with the most pictures, giving life to what Y/N wrote about, as clear as any maester’s history book. Ned stared at the papers in his hands, lightly touching a rare self-portrait Y/N had done of her new gown.

I worked on it for two weeks, although your lady mother helped me several times over. It’s the first one I’ve sewn by myself, and I hope I do it justice. This may not be interesting to you, but I’m proud. It’s cerulean and white.

Lyanna wanted me to draw her with Brandon’s sword. She thinks it’s very funny. ‘How can he call himself a lord when he can’t keep hold of his own sword?’ I thought Benjen was the thief, but Lyanna can be just as clever. It took him all day to realize she’d replaced his with a dull training sword.

Do you remember when you found my pearl? You couldn’t forget, I know, but I still think about it when remove it to brush my hair. I’ll never forget that kindness, Ned.

He smiled for the first time in a week. To Robert’s excitement, he made an expression for the first time in days.

“You can go back home,” Robert offered, wanting to keep the mood up. “Even if it’s just for a short time.”

They were men grown, ten and seven years old. If anything, they should have left the Eyrie by now. Both of them knew it was only a matter of time, though Robert didn’t want to go back to Storm’s End after all these years, having to finally take his lordly duties seriously. Ned was a second son, his duty would be commanding the household guard or visiting with minor houses.

Robert had a feeling if Ned left now, he wouldn’t come back to the Eyrie.

“Perhaps.” The Stark said quietly.

Their easy days had to end eventually. Why did it have to be on such a damned sad note?

Robert looked up at the heart tree. Its eerie, foreign face stared down at him. He had no prayers to give, only a quiet request that when Ned returned to Winterfell, it would be safely. The only noise for a long time was the wind rustling the branches of the white trees and the shuffling of the letters as Ned re-read them.

[rjhpandapaws]

YOOOO I AM A GENIUS. HBH!Gavin and Richard. They are out and about for Reasons. They find a crying child. Gavin takes the lead, trying to calm them down and figure out what’s up, esp since Crying Child is likely to be very over-stimulating for Richard (loud, messy, likely to cling which he may or may not be up to).

SURPRISE THE CHILD IS DEAF. MIGHT NOT HAVE EVEN REALIZED THEY WERE THERE IF THEIR EYES WERE CLOSED FROM CRYING. NOW WHAT

//yes!!!

 Now that his plan had been fucked into the general vicinity of uncomfortably sideways Gavin could see where he had messed up. Richard’s mood had been low because he was suffering from art block, he was tired of drawing the same buildings and people all the time and he wasn’t creative enough to make his own. Gavin had meant well when he suggested that they go to the park and Richard try drawing that scenery and such instead. The miscalculation had come from the fact that it was the weekend and the park tended to be full of kids on the weekend. Kids were loud and Richard didn’t do well with loud. The first couple hours had been fine, it was early enough in the day that there weren’t many kids running around, choosing instead to sleep away most of their Saturday. Which Gavin would have been doing as well if he hadn’t already made plans with Richard. They were sitting at a picnic table a good distance from the play park itself and Richard was working on drawing from this perspective, quick vaguely detailed sketches of the scenes as they were; and Gavin was enraptured in watching him work. The process always amazed him, that these rough lines and not quite shapes in a matter of hours would become a fully colored near realistic scene. He was so pulled in he didn’t notice the park becoming more crowded as the day passed. Not until he heard loud crying from much closer than he would have liked. He hadn’t seen Richard with kids so he wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but he had seen Richard in loud crowded places and he knew he didn’t want that again. He hated seeing him so uncomfortable so he got up to try and find the kid. there was a tree near the end of the table and he found the little girl on the other side of it. She was curled in a ball and crying her poor little heart out, for all that he planned to do, he didn’t actually know how to deal with distressed kids, or kids in general if he was honest. It wasn’t like he could make it worse, probably. Trying to comfort her couldn’t hurt.

He knelt down to get closer to her level, “Hey little miss, what’s wrong?” He asked. He didn’t get a response. He frowned and tried again. After the fourth time he gave up and reached out for her, when his hand met her shoulder she looked up like he had scared her. Her brown eyes were wide and she looked like she had seen a ghost. Faster than he thought a child could move she was gone. That solved that he supposed and made his way back to the picnic table only to find the girl signing frantically at Richard. She was signing fast and none of the signs he saw were signs he recognized, but it was starting to make sense why she hadn’t answered him. She was still sobbing and hiccupping, and after signing something Gavin couldn’t see from that angle Richard reached out to wipe away her tears. He signed something else at her and then after a moment of nothing Gavin’s phone buzzed. He ignored it in favor of watching Richard pick up this little girl like he had done it thousands of times before and walk off deeper into the park following in the direction of her little painted finger. Gavin brushed his confusion aside and pulled out his phone. Richard had sent him a text.

Tall Phcker from Psych: Going parent hunting. Mind watching my things? Gavin: Sure, good luck.

He settled at the table and took the time to look through Richard’s sketchbook to see the other drawings he had done before today as well. He didn’t know how long he was thumbing through the book before Richard came back and settled beside him. Gavin turned to face him with a slight smile. “How are you feeling superman?” He joked. ‘I Fine.’ Richard replied, ‘You Gave E-M-M-A Big Fear.’ “Yeah I didn’t mean to. Is she okay?” Gavin asked. ‘She Deaf, Lost, Confused. She Not Hear You.’ Richard explained, ‘She Say She Look Up And There Man.’ “Okay fair, that would be a bad time. I take it you found her parents then?” He continued. Richard nodded, ‘I Think I Done With Today.’ “I feel that. Want to get coffee on the way back?” Gavin asked as he stood and Richard nodded. On the walk back Gavin stayed stuck on how easily Richard had shifted gears, from drawing to a parent. It was a side he hadn’t seen before, and he fell in love just a little more.

@irrelevantbutfabulous

(Prompt from this list)

[thisweekingundamwing]

This Week in Gundam Wing 6-12 June 2021

Here’s this week’s roundup! June 6th -12th!

Remember to give your content creators some love! Be sure to join in on the events at the bottom! And remember to send in any new works you see or make next week!

~Mod Hel (Sorry this is so late all!)

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

@destinysblackrose​

Losing my Breath https://destinysblackrose.tumblr.com/post/653297355731435520/fic-losing-my-breath-gundam-wing-heero-x

F/M, Heero Yuy/Relena Darlian

Rated M for mature. Contains smut and angst.

Before his ‘reconnaissance mission’, Heero had been coaxing her, week after week. Waiting for her to become comfortable with this aspect of their relationship. Their last 'exchange’ gave him hope that maybe, they were getting closer.

The patience of a sniper. He used to hate it. Waiting. Watching. Aching. Breathing. Boring.

At least nothing about waiting for Relena was dull.

@lemontrash​

Pride Day 5 https://lemontrash.tumblr.com/post/653269838365638656/pride-day-5

5 It Used to be a Different Game - 1x5 SFW - UST.

After a war and a rocky experience with ambivalent heterosexuality, Wufei is not entirely sure what to make of this situation.

@noirangetrois​

Gundam Wing Diaries https://noirangetrois.tumblr.com/post/653438898421284864/the-gundam-wing-diaries

May 8, 2000 (Monday)

Episode 46 - “Milliardo’s Decision”

May 9, 2000 (Tuesday)

Episode 47 - “Collision in Space”

Gundam Wing Diaries https://noirangetrois.tumblr.com/post/653714468147265536/the-gundam-wing-diaries

May 10, 2000 (Wednesday)

Episode 48 - “Takeoff into Confusion”

May 11, 2000 (Thursday)

Episode 49 - “The Final Victor”

Of the Sea (Ch. 11) https://noirangetrois.tumblr.com/post/653792472043077632/of-the-sea-chapter-11-archive-of

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, fairytale my way, Meroctopus!Dorothy, Slow Burn, Multi POV, POV Third Person Limited, merman au, MerMay, Fantasy Politics, mentions of abuse, Unnatural November

Heero Yuy will soon be reaching the age of majority, at which time he will ascend the throne of Wingaria. Before such time, he must needs choose a bride. But what if there are no good choices? What if someone else has captured his heart?

simulacraryn

Friday, I’m in Love https://archiveofourown.org/works/31705282/chapters/78469714

F/M, Gen, Zechs Merquise/Lucrezia Noin

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Hangover, Alcohol Mentions, Explicit Language, Established Relationship, Alternate Universe - College/University, 1995 college au, khushrenada family has more issues than a magazine, background Treize being a gremlin, unbetaed - we die like men here

[College AU, 1995] Zechs is well aware of the upcoming social obligations that come with being friends and sharing a home with a "snob". The issue is when said friendship is actually cramping his own style, then it's time to enlist his girlfriend in order to help the friend find a better coping mechanism for the upcoming activities.

@thaiteaaddict​

Reincarnated As A Minor Villiainess and I Survived Past My Death Scene (Ch. 28) https://thaiteaaddict.tumblr.com/post/653740109010747392/i-reincarnated-as-a-minor-villainess-and-i

M/M, F/F, F/M, Heero x Duo, Trowa x Quatre, Wufei x Meilan, Dorothy x Relena

Full cast

Teen, AU - Fantasy, AU - Isekai, POV First Person, Unreliable Narrator

After being killed in a traffic accident, Duo wakes up in a medieval fantasy novel - except he’s woken up as one of the novel’s minor villains who was supposed to have died in a main character’s backstory. Intent on righting the wrongs of his novel counterpart, Duo sets out to change his fate and just maybe improve the relationship between himself and his estranged husband, Duke Heero Yuy. (Duo is isekai’d into the body of a novel’s villainess character and runs with it.)

@zaganthi​

Catered https://zaganthi.tumblr.com/post/653846550482665472/catered-zaganthi-caffiends-tzigane-gundam

M/M, Chang Wufei/Quatre Raberba Winner

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Blindfolds; Demisexuality; Dinner; First Kiss; Hand Feeding, GW Pride 2k21 – Day 13, Blindfolds; Day 17, foodplay

“I would like you to do a blind taste test.” Quatre sat down across from him on the cushion, smiling that serene little smile that he only used when he was up to something. He’d done stranger things. That smile made him a little paranoid, though. Anyone with the least bit of sense would be paranoid when Quatre looked like that.

“All right.”

“Thank you.” Wufei could see the smile, but he could also hear it in Quatre’s voice as he moved behind him.

Gnossienne https://zaganthi.tumblr.com/post/653752431378890752/gnossienne-zaganthi-caffiends-perryvic

M/M, Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner; Treize Khushrenada/Duo Maxwell; Treize Khushrenada/Quatre Raberba Winner; Trowa Barton/Chang Wufei

Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply, Aged-Up Character(s) Quatre Raberba’s Uchuu no Kokoro | Space Heart; Preventers (Gundam Wing); Team as Family; Domestic Bliss; Friendship; Friendship/Love; talking with exes; Double Penetration; rompy sex; Aftermath of Violence; Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery; Awareness of the trouser legs of time; Talking about Therapy; Dinner Party; Swordfighting; Enthusiastic Consent

It was as if his words constituted permission because Quatre’s smile was blinding then as was his emotional reaction - figuratively and literally because he damn well started glowing as he said in a reverent whisper “Sandrock,…”

His Gundam impossibly powered up there and then right in front of them even as Quatre literally ran towards it. This time around he really got it, he could feel Sandrock as Quatre felt him - and it was a him strangely. Just as he felt that Deathscythe was more than just metal and technology, Sandrock had a presence. How, he didn’t know but it was like seeing him reunite with a beloved family member.

Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@alphaikaros​

https://alphaikaros.tumblr.com/post/653299730884050944/late-mermay-post

Dorothy/Quatre, fanart

https://alphaikaros.tumblr.com/post/653860625645256704

Relena/Heero, fanart

@anukisart​

https://anukisart.tumblr.com/post/653291417640304640/first-anime-crush-right-here

Heero Yuy, fanart

@babygray-dam​

https://babygray-dam.tumblr.com/post/653427876479303680/a-sketch-of-duo-maxwell

Duo Maxwell, fanart

@cloakandfire​

https://cloakandfire.tumblr.com/post/653518473738305536/milliardo-peacecraft-lucrezia-neuenheim-noin

Millidardo Peacecraft/Zechs Merquise, fanart

@duointherain​

https://duointherain.tumblr.com/post/653647734686072832/a-new-duo-render-from-violet-in-tooth-and-claw-i

Duo Maxwell, render

@gundayum​

https://gundayum.tumblr.com/post/653389873532796928/im-just-gonna-copypasta-from-ao3-lmao-sorry

Relena & Heero, fanart

@idrawprettyboys​

https://idrawprettyboys.tumblr.com/post/653393436572106753/duo-in-a-crop-top

Duo Maxwell, fanart

@twillpoint​

https://twillpoint.tumblr.com/post/653752343129636864/until-next-time-afternoon-tea-booth

Duo/Quatre, fanbook

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@cuteciboulette​

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/653254092113723392/doujinshika-sango-show

Destiny, doujinshi

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/653344695287775232

Duo & Heero Book, doujinshi

https://cuteciboulette.tumblr.com/post/653707101846306816/cuteciboulette-tsuki-no-kodomo-vol-3-full

Act 3, doujinshi

Head Canons:

@bryony-rebb​

https://noirangetrois.tumblr.com/post/653352279647371264/lemontrash-bryony-rebb-bryony-rebb

Trowa & Cathy, headcanon

@lemontrash​

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes​

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/653552300665782272/duo-kinda-gay-to-make-a-wanted-poster-duo-why-do

Duo & Heero

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/653642909168631808/duo-im-hella-fucking-tired-but-i-need-to-go-to

Duo & Quatre

Calendar Events:

@gundamzine​

Rhythm Generation 2021

Meet the Mods: https://gundamzine.tumblr.com/post/636708854145613824/come-on-over-a-meet-your-2021-zine-mod-team-head

Check out the blog for the Zine schedule!

@gundam-wing-pride​

Gundam Wing Pride 2k21 https://gundam-wing-pride.tumblr.com/post/648237909672083456/incoming-transmission-faq

A Beautiful Rainbow of Prompts https://gundam-wing-pride.tumblr.com/post/649898271517573120/a-beautiful-rainbow-of-prompts

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, ! [starting back up next week!]

In need of Summer/Fall(Autumn) prompts!

@gwshootingstars

Shooting Stars Online Convention https://gwshootingstars.tumblr.com/post/653339481502564352/hey-everyone-guess-whos-back-with-a-brand-new

This has been tabled for future action.

https://gwshootingstars.tumblr.com/post/653641678082752512/hi-all-thank-you-so-much-for-the-response-and

Latest news.

@oztober-rust

Welcome to Oztober Rust

We’re an up and coming Gundam Wing event with a slight twist! This page is still a work in progress, but you’re welcome to join us over on discord and get a feel for the event.

Have discord, will fan. https://oztober-rust.tumblr.com/post/647568110262566912/i-see-a-nice-and-steady-following-we-do-have-a

@seasons-of-gundamwing

Summer Event Prompts Needed https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/652830126852177920/alright-folks

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/644080386309275648/events-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

[silverhyenaart]

Alright, I'm fairly new to the "Reader Insert" style of writing, but I thought I'd give it a try. So, I have yet to do a little sketch of Lester (I did draw his two brothers,) However, I did have this idea for a sick-fic, where Lester finds the reader on the side of the road. Now, I wrote this with a female reader in mind but please feel free to imagine it any way you see fit.

Roadside Attraction Part #1

No one would ever argue that the tiny, reclusive town of Ambrose was a quiet place. The occasional group of tourists or stranded motorists made for some excitement, but there hadn't been any new visitors in over a month.

A crooked smile crossed Lester's face as his old truck ambled along the backroads.The morning was still plenty young. Bo was more than likely sleeping off a night of one too many beers. Vincent was surely working on The House of Wax's next great masterpiece in his basement studio lair. That left Lester to do what he loved. Gather up the roadkill! However... the youngest Sinclair was about to get more than he ever could have bargained for.

"Still plenty cool outside, huh Daisy?" Lester muttered, scratching at his flannel shirt pocket, "hopefully we git some meat befer the sun ruins it."

He was answered by a curious chiding as the tiny raccoon in his pocket peaked out.

There were so many things besides the animal carcasses on the side of the road. And while yes, half of a deer that had yet to be tainted by maggots and Louisiana heat was indeed a fine prize to return home with, Lester had also found the occasional wad of cash, various coins, jewelry, and his personal favorite, the woodland creatures that he'd take home and foster. (Always making them promise that they'd stay away from the roads before releasing them back into the wild.)

But instead of the usual gorey animal corpse splattered in the road or abandoned wrecked vehicle, Lester saw what was unmistakably a human body in the ditch near a heavily wooded stretch of road. Your body!

The brakes of the rickety old truck screeched on the pavement. Quickly, Lester put the truck in reverse, stopping as close to your prone form as possible. There was no telling how long you'd been left out there in the Louisiana backwoods, but it was obvious that you'd been severely mistreated before being dumped out here. In fact, one could have easily written you off as dead. Bruised, dried blood caking in places, old, sour vomit in the grass near your mouth, and your wrists bound behind your back tightly with course rope.

"Well Daisy, ain't sure there's nothin' more ta do then give 'er ta Vinny," Lester mused, quietly as he examined what he thought was your corpse, "Poor thing, won't do no good no how bringin' er to the pit. Sure Vinny'll fix 'er up real nice."

When his hand touched your hip to turn you over for a better look, that's when a weak moan escaped your chapped lips and your eye cracked open. Lester jumped back a little in surprise. You were still alive! Albeit in dreadful shape. But breathing nevertheless.

"Hey... hey there now. This ain't no place fer a nice young lady like ya ta be," Lester said, reaching for the Bowie knife on his belt.

Upon seeing the glint of steel in the morning light, your unfocused eyes widened in fear. With your entire body feeling like a led weight, struggling was impossible. After spending an entire day out here in your already terrible condition, just moving made you feel like your already empty stomach was going to purge once more.

Then the ropes binding your wrists snapped, giving your painfully raw skin welcome relief. Dirty yet gentle hands helped you to your feet. While it was difficult to focus, you could tell that your rather smelly but kind-hearted guardian angel was one of those backwoods redneck sorts. If anything, his accent alone gave it away.

"That's it now, com'n, sweat pea, I-I'ma take ya somewhere safe."

Lester helped you to his truck's passenger side, letting you lean heavily against him. He smiled, having been unable to recall the last time he'd had a woman of any sort willingly be this close to him. Usually it was his big brother who got the pretty ladies.

"Y-you can jus' call me Lester, now, darlin'," your rescuer continued.

As Lester guided you toward his beat up old pickup and opened up the passenger side door, you could feel your already upset stomach doing flip flops. You stumbled a little, clinging to this man as though he were your only remaining life line... and then your body betrayed you.

You trembled, eyes wide with horror, able to make out that you'd just thrown up all over your savior. Before you could squeak out an apology, you were doubled over as more bile forced itself out of your already sore throat, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

"W-well now, sweat pea, better ta git it out now..." shrugged Lester, taking a red handkerchief out of his back pocket and handing it to you.

Even after you'd accidentally barfed all over him, this man was still taking care of you. Once you were cleaned up a little, Lester grabbed a very messy towel out of his truck and wiped himself off. Daisy peaked out of his pocket, quickly retreating back to safety when you let out a low groan.

"S-sorry m-mister..." you rasped, nearly staggering to the ground you were so weak.

"I-it's alright. You ain't hurtin' no one... jus' git it out," Lester said, "That's it, now."

He hesitated at first, then began to gently rub your back and hold your hair out of the way. You couldn't lie to yourself, it felt good. The first bit of tenderness you've been shown in a long time.

Once you were through purging your painfully empty stomach, Lester gave you some lukewarm water from a questionable looking plastic bottle and helped you into the passenger seat. It wasn't until he closed the door that your tired eyes noticed that there was no way to open it from the inside nor was there any means to roll down the window.

Was this man actually helping you or taking this opportunity to kidnap you? At this point, you were too sick and exhausted to care.

Another crooked grin crossed Lester's face as he scratched his little raccoon's head. After settling into the driver's seat, he checked on you again before the old truck's engine rumbled to life.

"Don'cha worry none, sweat pea. I'ma take ya home a-an' gitcha somethin' ta make ya feel better. "

Home... you didn't have one anymore. Slowly, you nodded your head, leaning against the dirty window before closing your eyes.

* * *

Yes, I love the idea that Lester takes care of orphaned baby woodland critters he finds on the side of the road. A lovely individual in the discord group I'm in suggested it and told me to roll with it so I did! (Daisy seemed like the perfect cute redneck name so there's that!)

I do plan to make more parts and post the whole thing to my AO3. The stinky roadkill man deserves love! He also strikes me as the friendliest of the three Sinclair brothers.

[marksinn]

Passion Project: Inspiration

I don’t think I’m starting at the beginning with this post. Keep your eyes peeled for later posts that explain what I’m doing and why.

After a month of thinking about, sketching and painting designs, I have finally done something. Essentially, recently watching two films has pushed me into action, and a part of me is ashamed to admit it. There isn’t a word count or any typesetting to curtail my thoughts here, so strap in.

When I created this brief I figured I’d draw a million wee skateboards, colour a few of them in, then fling my favourites into Adobe illustrator and make them look good. From there I would take the 5 best up to the skatepark and ask some of the patrons there which designs stood out to them. Next, I would adapt the three front-runners and create sweet PhotoShop mockups that would show what my designs would look like as skateboards. If I had the time, inclination or money by the end of the project, I would have the design laid onto a real skateboard (I’ve been looking to buy a new one for some time) and then be proud of myself.

So I’ve drawn some wee skateboards. Then I started upscaling the designs onto the floorboards of my loft:

This was an exercise to let me see how small things need to be adapted to be blown up. Skateboards can have any level of detail that you like on them, I hadn’t considered this until I was trying to draw a semi-perfect triangle for the traffic cone, or until I was using chalk to recreate four cubes. It’s also been fun to work with different media on chipboard - I have learned that most kinds of pencil, paint, chalk and charcoal do not like being used on chipboard. Decorating paint, however, has no such issues. Thanks, Dulux!

And so, with a few of these under my belt, I decided to try some digital designs. So I jumped into Illustrator and totally ignored my sketchbook, coming up with three designs that were all inspired by the day I had just had. The top design, I’ll focus on last, for reasons that will become apparent (unless you follow me on Instagram, where you’ll already know that it’s an absolute hit, with over 19 likes already!). I was told by a guy at the skatepark that he likes decks with very basic designs, just a colour or two, nothing overly detailed. Another skater told me that he often likes the basic wood background with one small emblem or sticker just beside the wheels.

The duo-tone design felt nice, I’m usually one for over-complicating things. I definitely have an attitude of “If there’s more in it, there’s a greater chance someone will find something they like”. The first colour choice put my girlfriend in the mind of a hand-bag she had seen photographed in the arms of Carrie Fisher - it was designed to look like a Prozac pill. So I changed the colours up, and added the separating black lines and textures to give it some subtle character. I then went full meta with the Minimal design. And, if I’m being honest, I’m incredibly happy with how it looks like a wee character. Expect to see that making a comeback in the very near future. But the top design is what really got me going. 

I’ve recently been watching...

...Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, and have been loving Miles Morales’ multiple hobbies of graffiti, mixing beats and saving his neighbourhood from a variety of dangers. 

I then went to the cinema to see In The Heights, telling the tale of the Latin community during a blackout in North Manhattan. I found myself wrapped up in the romance, tribulations and music of the cast, and was felt oddly proud of Lin Manuel Miranda - who wrote this as a stage-musical while he was in college, had a modicum of success with it, then went on to create Hamilton, one of the most important musicals of our time. With the success of that particular show taking the entire world by storm, he was given the opportunity to make his old, relatively only semi-popular play into a blockbuster film. You can’t help but be inspired by someone like that.

I often find towards the end of a film I’m inspired by the characters’ journeys: be that from zero to hero, from lonely to loved or from rags to riches. Then I walk out and carry on with my normal life doing normal things. And as the hero of the story’s dreams all came true in the closing minutes (sorry for the spoiler, but it’s a musical, they rarely end in despair), a thought floated across my mind:

I’m utterly sick of being inspired

Now, to my credit, I did figure out in the car home that ‘tired’ would be a far more fitting and rhythmic word to use in this sentence, but this was a mentality that I found resonated really strongly with me. I’m very good at being inspired, I think most people are. We hear stories of people starting their own business, achieving some sporting brilliance or overcoming a personal hurdle and we say “Wow, isn’t that inspiring?” or

“It really inspires you to go out and make a difference!” or

“They are such an inspirational speaker!”

Then we go off about our day, not acting on the inspiration, and, for the most part, remaining uninspired. So I decided to act. 

I did some very quick research (/acquiring of images of graffiti) in order to get the right shapes and textures to create a spray paint effect in Illustrator. I did some very quick research (/confirming the colours) of South American flags, taking the blue and red used in flags of the home nations of Miles Morales from Spider-Man and Usnavi from In The Heights. And I created the top design.

YES! I had been inspired and I had drawn a wee picture to show that - I had acted on my inspirations!

Then I looked to my left and spotted three, blank skate decks that I had bought on a whim from Re:Ply (a wonderful wee company who do a great deal of charity work supplying boards to people who need them, selling boards to people who can afford them, and for a very reasonable fee, providing unusable decks to people who want to use them for artistic purposes). I realised I hadn’t acted on my inspiration, I had just drawn a few pictures of skateboards with the eventual aim of PhotoShopping them onto other pictures of skateboards.

So I took myself...

... into the city centre with a shoddily prepared speech: “I’m looking for some cheap, small cans of spray paint. I’ve no idea what I’m doing, or if I’ll be good at it, so don’t want to invest too much into this.” Hiding behind this self-deprecating shield I barged into multiple art-, pound- and model-shops and pleaded with the staff to help a young idiot out. Amazingly, a very kind shop assistant pointed me in the direction of Fat Buddha, a clothes shop I’d always ignored as it seemed a bit to “...” for me. I don’t know what it seemed, but I knew it wasn't my kind of shop. Happy to prove me wrong, the guys in there were super helpful and they helped me buy my first cans of spray paint. 

Now I’d spent money...

... and as a skinflint, that meant I had to get use out of my purchases. I had tricked myself into being inspired. Inspiration led me to the drawing, inspiration had led me to buy decks and the paint, now inspiration had to make me spray paint.

I’ll stop yammering on now. Essentially, I had planned on creating some analogue designs then digitising them (I’m guessing I should do a post on my brief, yeah? Might just upload the PDF to save me talking more), but then I found that I was doing the complete opposite. Genuinely accidentally. I had played with a few typefaces from various websites to get fonts that represented the ideas I wanted. The top one was semi-stolen (I can’t use the word ‘inspired’ any more in this post) from the end credits of In The Heights. The larger font is something of a nod to inspirational quotes you see on Facebook or on glittery frames in B&M.

I printed those out and cut them into stencils (very impressed that my digital boards have been drawn to a workable scale, thanks Maths). And after putting down a tack-layer (GRAFFITI JARGON (I think)) I sprayed the whole lot in blue.

Next, I tried to get a little fancy. Using cardboard blockers to create straight lines I added stars* (borrowed from the Puerto Rican flag) and made the bottom stripes vaguely reminiscent of America’s Old Glory.

I peeled the lettering off, and I’d done it. I may have to explain the overtly-negative inspirational quote to people, but to me it’s a clear sign that there’s no point in just being inspired, and that’s all I wanted.

A weight I didn’t know I was carrying was lifted from my shoulders. The plan was to possibly end up with a self-designed skateboard. And now I have one.

*Yes, I know they’re crosses.

[svnflowervol666]

Hey!! Could you write an imagine where the reader is an artist and wakes up early, Harry is sleeping next to her and for a few minutes she's there watching him and then decides to draw him while he sleeps and when she's finishing Harry wakes up? Thank you so much ♥️

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of smut

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request! Like always, if you’re interested, let me know what you’d like for me to write next. Take care and tpwk.

Y/N wasn’t very sure how she’d managed to wake up before Harry considering how hard they partied last night. Her head pounded in her ears and she felt an overwhelming sense of dehydration in her throat. The events of the evening were somewhat blurry after Harry handed her a shot of something wretched and led her immediately to the dancefloor to work up a sweat. She knew judging from the fact that she was stark naked in the bed she shared with Harry and the fact that she could see her dress from the night before shimmering in the sunlight off in the corner of the room haphazardly that they’d at least made love to each other when they got home. Aside from that, her mind was drawing a blank.

Seeing as the blinding light from the harsh, early morning sun made it impossible to go back to sleep, she carefully removed the limp, ringed hand that was draped around her waist and wriggled her way over to her nightstand to grab her phone. Fuck, she thought to herself. Her battery was dead and she couldn’t be arsed to lean all of the way down to the ground to reach for her charger. After lying there for a moment and contemplating how to proceed with the morning, in which she decided she certainly would not be getting out of bed to start the day just yet, she reached a bit further past her phone for the sketchbook and pencil that Harry had gotten her for her birthday last year.

It was almost completely full of her drawings and doodles, something she prided herself in. Often times, she’d lose her sketchbook or spill her coffee on it before she could finish drawing in all of the pages. Maybe it was the fact that Harry had gotten this one for her which meant it was special, or maybe it was just luck, but she’d managed to hold on to this one almost down to the very last page. 

In an attempt to soothe her hangover without getting out of bed, she began drawing away. She started by finishing up the flower she had started the other day after saw the most beautiful bunch of daisies while on her daily walk with Harry. Sure, they were technically an invasive weed that took over greenery like wildfire, but Y/N always thought they were beautiful. 

When she’d perfected that one enough to her liking, she flipped the page and started another drawing. This one was also unfinished, and it was a landscape portrait of the bungalow she shared with Harry while on their vacation to Bora Bora last year. She’d been on many vacations and stayed in many nice houses since that trip, but this bungalow she’d never forget. It was where Harry took her to tell her that he loved her, though she hadn’t known that at the time. They had been having the time of their lives, drinking sugary, alcoholic beverages all throughout the day and lounging lazily by the ocean. Harry finally told her while they watched the sunset on their third night there. It slipped out faster and not as smoothly as Harry had imagined the moment in his head, but the overwhelming, swooning sensation he felt in his chest whenever he looked at Y/N made it impossible for the words to not spew from his lips. She’d never forgotten that trip because it was where she fell significantly more in love with Harry than she already had been.

There wasn’t much that needed to be done on the portrait of the bungalow, just some shading on the roof and a bit more detail on the waves that surrounded the structure. She finished that one fairly quickly then moved on to her next blank page. This one, she fucked up. What she had tried to draw one of her old pets from memory, but for some reason, it wasn’t looking right. She quickly scrapped the piece of paper and moved on to the next page, which was coincidentally the final page in her sketchbook.

She pondered for a moment on what idea in her head would earn the final spot in her book of drawings. She could try to draw her pet again? No, she shook her head softly to herself. Hers and Harry’s favorite table at the coffee shop that was down the block from their London apartment? No, she’d need to get a better look at the place before she attempted something like that. She looked around the now bright and sunny space of their bedroom, trying to find something that would shoot a spark in her brain and cause her to think of the perfect thing to draw. As she turned her head towards the sleeping, seemingly unconscious body that burrowed itself into the gigantic, down comforter beside her, it struck her.

Y/N propped herself up on her side so she could get a better look at the scene in front of her. Harry was sleeping the morning away, though she couldn’t say she blamed him since she didn’t even remember coming home last night (or was it technically this morning?). His face was completely covered by the huge down comforter that he’d hogged from her, but she didn’t mind. All that was visible of Harry was the top of his head, adorned with messy, chocolate-colored waves, and the outstretched palm of his left hand. That was it. His hand.

Her hangover had more or less subsided by now without the need of a greasy diner breakfast or a handful of headache medicine, so she was able to work diligently on her newest and final sketch. She traced over every crease and dip of his long, slender fingers, making sure no detail went unnoticed. Every ring, including the large, gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings on his ring and pinky fingers got their own moment in the spotlight. His bright yellow nail polish, the color that she’d picked out for him last week, was slightly chipped at the corners, but it only added to the uniqueness of the piece. Each knuckle she shaded with the closest attention. Unlike her old pet or the table at the cafe, she was almost certain she could draw this from memory, but a little reinforcement never hurt. Plus, she felt like she could stare at Harry’s hands for days on end without growing tired of them.

Harry’s hands were miracle workers for her. They’d held her through both her darkest and brightest days. They’d made her feel safe in times when she’d never felt so alone, and during big moments when she couldn’t be sad even if she tried. Harry’s hands cooked her breakfast on Sunday mornings, carried her to bed when she’d fallen asleep watching Netflix in the living room, massaged her tired feet after a long day of work, brushed her hair out of her eyes before kissing her goodnight each night, made her see stars as he pleasured her over and over again with his skillful fingers. So many times people overlook what hands do in a relationship, but not Y/N. 

It was right when she was shading the corner of Harry’s cross tattoo that was barely visible from beyond the comforter she felt the bed sheets rustle and the sweet creature beside her come to. The peaceful silence of Y/N doodling away was broken when Harry moved his hand, the one she had been drawing, towards his face to rub harshly at his emerald green eyes.

“Wha’ ‘re you doin awake? ‘ts so early,” she heard his groggy, morning voice pierce the walls of the room.

“It’s almost noon, Harry,” she responded softly, letting the sketchbook fall gently into her lap.

“Oh, shit,” the lanky brunette chuckled, “Wha’ did we do last night?”

“I was actually hoping you could tell me.”

“‘ve got no idea, princess,” Harry groaned before reaching over to pat her thigh, feeling the hard material of her sketchbook instead.

“You drawin’? Lemme see.”

He plucked the open notepad from her lap to examine what she’d been drawing while he was asleep. She didn’t feel embarrassed or like she needed to snatch the book away from him before he could see that she’d been drawing his hands whilst he slept. That was another thing Y/N loved about Harry, how she never felt shy or that she needed to hide her art from him. He always praised her work whenever he crossed paths with it, so she was always willing to share her latest masterpiece.

“M’ hand? You drew my hand while I was asleep?” Harry was still delirious from a combination of his hazy, half-asleep half-awake state.

“I love your hands,” she stated firmly but softly, “plus, it was the last page in my sketchbook so I wanted it to be of something important.”

“Hmm,” Harry pondered as he cased over the drawing once more, “I like this one, but I think I much rather prefer the one you drew of my co-”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” Y/N interrupted his sentence and yanked the sketchbook from his grasp before placing it back on its home on the nightstand.

She took her rightful half of the comforter back from Harry and nestled herself back into bed, making sure to cozy right up into Harry’s warm, bare chest so they could have a proper, conscious cuddle before dreadfully starting their day. The two of them were adults now and while they were still granted the privilege of being able to party, they couldn’t stay in bed and waste the day away after a long night of drinking like they used to.

Harry traced soft circles on Y/N’s back with the same hand that she was drawing just minutes ago, almost lulling her back to sleep. He watched as her breathing evened out and her eyes began to droop despite her awareness that they had a late lunch planned with Anne and Gemma in a few hours. 

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her back to consciousness.

Her eyes blinked open quickly, unaware of how she’d almost went right back to sleep in Harry’s arms.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve got to meet up wi’ mum and Gem soon. ‘Need to get up.”

“Ten more minutes.”

This made Harry chuckle, seeing how she was acting like a grumpy teenager who refused to wake up for school in the morning. God, how he loved her.

“How about I show you just how important my hands are to you and then we hop in the shower, yeah? Sound like a plan?”

She opened one eye just slightly enough to see that Harry was giving her his iconic smirk that caused one of his dimples to shine through. Leave it to Harry to squeeze in a shag before lunch with his own mum.

She supposed she really couldn’t say no to that.

[nalgenewhore]

Slipping Through My Fingers - Two

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter 

warnings: none

an: this chapter’s a lil shorter than usual 

Elide woke up alone, sprawled across her bed.

Groaning softly into the skin of her upper arm, she stretched and rolled over, blinking her eyes at sunny skies behind her side-by-side windows, sixth paned with rounded tops. Her gaze travelled to the canopy-esque set up she had above her bed, a simple wooden-pole square that she hung a multitude of plants from. 

Lorcan was gone, and she was grateful for that. It was always awkward, waiting around for a hook-up to leave so she could get on with her day. 

But Lorcan was… great. Really, he was. The sex had been amazing and he was gorgeous, truly beautiful, but it wasn’t just that. They got along well, when they were just lying in her bed, when she was sitting on her kitchen table and they were eating cereal. It was easy to laugh with him, to talk and banter with him. Elide groaned again and rolled over onto her stomach. You do not have the time for this, she reminded herself. 

She huffed and got out of bed, feeling that old familiar ache between her legs and on the bruises sucked onto her skin as she shuffled into the bathroom and turned on her shower. 

As the water warmed up, Elide shrugged on her fluffy bathrobe and went out to check her phone, opening the message from Nehemia, one of her new teacher colleagues. After Elide had moved from Perranth to Orynth, her sister Aelin had introduced her to her closest friends. They had all hit it off almost instantaneously and it was like they’d known each other all their lives. 

She was a little less freaked out by her new job now that she knew she’d have at least one friend there. 

NY: still down for brunch with the girlies?

EL: you know it 

EL: 11?

NY: see you then! i’m going shopping for classroom stuff later, wanna join?

EL: gods yes - completely forgot about that whoops

Plans for the day made, Elide turned on her music and hopped in the shower, the warm stream washing away the last night and the feeling of disappointment that she couldn’t quite place. 

After her shower, Elide dried and curled her hair, throwing on the red wrap dress that Aelin had made for her - it was from her newest collection and all of her friends often got the throwaways, not that there was ever anything wrong with them. Elide paired it with simple white sneakers and dropped her wallet, phone, keys, and a reusable bag into a white cross-body purse before she left her apartment complex. 

It was beautiful outside, a perfect late-August day so she decided to walk the short-ish distance to the Faliq family bakery, where Nesryn worked as a pastry chef alongside her father. 

+*+*+*+*+*+*

Elide walked into the air conditioned bakery to find Nesryn precariously balancing trays of mouth-watering, decadent pastries. She quickly moved, saving a plate of mille feuilles with pastry cream and strawberries from crashing to the floor. “Hey, Nes.” 

Nesryn grinned, “El, thank the gods.” She blew a flyaway strand of hair that had escaped her half-up, half-down bun do. “Cute dress.” She herself was wearing a pair of flour covered overalls and a black crop top, a pair of slip-on sneakers on her feet. They walked out to the patio to their normal table, where their friends were already sitting. 

“Thanks, Ae gave it to me. I’m liking the overalls look,” Elide said, setting down the tray and taking her seat beside her sister. “Gods, these look fucking amazing, Nes.” Lysandra passed her a glass filled with ice coffee as Nesryn sat down next to her fiancée and blushed under the praise. 

They dug in, catching up on each other’s lives. Nesryn and Lysandra had just returned from a vacation in Eyllwe and Nehemia lamented about missing home, but Elide knew she would never actually go through with forgetting everything and moving back. The wedding band on her finger and the matching one on Fenrys’ told a different tale. Their eloping was the best decision either of them had ever made. 

Elide commented on how happy Aelin looked, despite being awake and coherent before noon and her sister shyly shared she’d been seeing someone, a man named Rowan. Nehemia smiled, it seemed as though Rowan was a good friend of Fenrys’ and Fenrys had actually introduced the two of them. Aelin looked absolutely smitten and they were all so happy for her. She deserved a happy love, after her parents, after Sam… 

When Elide reached for the jam, her wrap top shifted and exposed one of the dark marks on the curve of her breast. Aelin squawked and Elide flushed, sitting back down, a hand over her chest as she watched her sister splutter. “Yes, Aelin?” 

“Wha- what- what is that?” The blonde reached over and used the tip of her index finger to pull back the neckline of Elide’s dress, baring the mark and the countless others on her pale skin. Elide slapped her sister’s hand away, preferring that she didn’t expose her in public. “Elide!” 

Everyone else gasped, intrigued as Elide relented. “Fine! I may have met a man at Emrys’ and hooked up with him… in the alley.” 

Her friends’ eyes widened as Aelin’s jaw dropped and soon enough they were congratulating her, pestering her for extremely intimate details she refused to give until they finally dropped the subject and went back to eating. 

“But was he any damn good?”

Elide hummed and sipped from her cold drink, “He was pretty any damn good.”

An hour later, they helped Nesryn clear the table and carried everything into the kitchen, saying hello to her father and mother. Sayed, her father, refused to let them leave without bags or boxes, depending on the choice, of their personal favourites. He claimed they were just laying around and they played along, but they knew better. 

Elide climbed into Nehemia’s car and they were off to the nearest craft and office supplies store. There was a sale and they thanked the gods. The school paid for… not enough and if they wanted their classes to be adequately decorated, they would have to pay out of pocket for a lot of it. 

Nehemia taught seventh grade at their school, while Elide taught kindergarten, so her class was much more brightly coloured. 

Currently, she was comparing a pack of Mr. Sketch Markers and regular old Crayolas. Nehemia glanced over at the packs, “Mr. Sketch are way better. I swear, they’ve never bled and they smell good.” 

She laughed and dropped the Mr. Sketch into her cart, checking off markers on her list. “Alright… I just need some… sticker paper for desk labels.” 

Nehemia nodded, “Sounds good. I really hope my stuff is hip enough.” Elide laughed again and she insisted, “Do you know how scary seventh grade girls are? I can’t have them dissing my class!” 

“I think you’ll be fine, Mi,” she said dryly, shaking her head a bit. “If I had you as my seventh grade teacher, I would’ve been in love with you, 100%.” 

“Aw, really?” 

“Totally!” 

“That’s so sweet!” Nehemia dropped a packet of thumbtacks into her basket and sighed, “Alright, I think I’m done for now. What about you?” 

“Just the sticker paper and then I’ll be good to go.” 

They quickly located the paper and Elide got a few packs before they made their way to the registry. She looked up as she was bagging her things in the cotton bag she’d brought, eyes landing on a tall man with dark hair thrown up in a messy bun. 

She almost called out ‘Lorcan’, but he turned and she didn’t recognize him. A weird feeling sunk into the pit of her stomach. Maybe she did regret only knowing him for one night, but it’s not like she could do anything about it. 

Slightly deflated, she remained mostly silent as Nehemia dropped her off. “El, are you alright? You seem a little bit…” 

Elide waved her off, “No, yeah, ‘m fine. I think I’m just tired. Hot today.” 

Nehemia didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press the subject as Elide kissed her cheek and hopped out, waving when she unlocked the door of her building and slipped inside. 

Sleeping with Lorcan wasn’t a mistake, she didn’t regret that, but now that she thought about it… she would’ve liked to have seen him sleeping beside her in the morning. Would’ve liked to know how he took his coffee and how he kissed her good-bye.  

Making a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, Elide unlocked the door to her studio apartment and leaned back against the door in the dark, just staring at the empty space. 

There was something rumpled on the floor and she dropped her bags, walking towards it. It was her dress, somehow not ripped even though they hadn’t exactly been patient when they got to her apartment. 

With another groan, Elide changed aggressively in an old hoodie and sweats, ruining her curls by throwing her hair into a sloppy bun and plopped down on her bed, using the remote to turn on the TV mounted on the opposite wall. 

Feeling peckish, Elide stood up from bed and walked over to the kitchen. She grabbed the box of pastries Sayed had given her, opening it up to find an Earl Grey and honey-flavoured St. Honoré, which was a layer of puff pastry that served as a base for the large cream puffs dipped in caramel, filled with Earl Grey and honey infused pastry cream, and topped with whipped cream. 

Her mood lifted slightly as she cut herself a slice and read the note that Nesryn had left, letting her know that she’d been tweaking with the recipe and asking Elide to let her know what she thought. 

Elide took herself and her pasty back to bed after turning on her kettle and putting a scoop of loose tea into her diffuser-ball and dropping it in a mug. 

She sighed as she navigated to Netflix and clicked on a movie, already calling Aelin. Aelin didn’t get a word in before Elide was saying: “Clueless?” 

Her sister agreed immediately, “Clueless.”

+*+*+*+*+*+*

@mythicaitt​​ @tinywolfofeyllwe​ @schmlip-scribble​ @the-regal-warrior​ @westofmoon​ @empire-of-wildfire​ @rhysands-highlady​ @city-of-fae​ @shyvioletcat​ @alifletcher2012​ @tangledraysofsunshine​ @ttakeitbacknoww​ @tswaney17​ @ourbooksuniverse​ @flora-and-fae​ @thesirenwashere​ @queenofxhearts​ @maastrash​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @cursebreaker29​​ @superspiritfestival​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @queen-of-glass​ @sleeping-and-books​ @beccasophia95​ @exersize-me-i-dare-u​ @thewayshedreamed​ @hizqueen4life​

[reidingandwriting]

Four Times Tony Needed You, and One Time You Needed Him

Word Count: ~2400 words

Ship: Tony Stark x Reader, Peter Parker x Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Little bit of language, mention of nightmares (not detailed), drunk Tony (being absolutely adorable)

The first time Tony needed you was early in the morning. You were Tony’s personal assistant, and you basically kept Tony from running his business (and himself) into the ground. He was a genius, excellent with people, but when it came to remembering meetings and other obligations, he was a little lacking.

“Y/N, darling, the glue that holds me together.” You groaned as you heard Tony’s voice.

“What did you forget, Stark?” Your voice rasped as you sat up, still thick from sleep.

“Those files we were going over last night, I may have left them in your office. And I’m in meetings all day, my first meeting’s at eight, and I don’t have the time to turn around and-“ You cut Tony off, putting your phone on speakerphone as you got out of bed.

“I’ve got it, Tony.” You yawned, stripping from your pajamas as you walked to your closet. “Did you have breakfast this morning? Coffee doesn’t count either.” Tony’s laughter filled your room, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“You know me too well, Y/N. If you could get my usual at Brookstone...” Tony trailed off as you grabbed a dress from your closet.

“Of course. I’m also helping myself to breakfast since it’s supposed to be my day off. And taking your Audi.” You teased as you slipped the dress on.

“You know where the keys are. Thank you again, you’re a lifesaver.” You could hear the genuine gratitude in his voice, and you smiled.

“Y/N Y/L/N, personal assistant to Tony Stark, certified lifesaver.”

———

The second time he needed you, wasn’t necessarily for him.

“Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the lab.” The AI’s voice made you jump, and you lost your focus. You were in your office, curled up in your desk chair. You were reading the proposals for a potential partnership when FRIDAY spoke to you.

“Tell him I’m on my way, thanks FRI.” You stood up and made your way to the elevator. “To Tony’s lab, please.” You spoke to FRIDAY, and the elevator went up, stopping on the floor of Tony’s lab. You stepped out of the elevator and knocked on the door, coming into the lab when you saw Tony wave. You smiled as you saw Peter Parker in the lab as well, in a chair beside your boss.

“Hi, Y/N!” Peter greeted you as you walked in.

“Hi, Peter. How’d your chemistry test go?” You had found yourself getting close to Peter as well, taking on an older sister role to him. You picked him up from school whenever you could, happy to spend time with the kid. (And to give Happy a break from his excited rambling that seemed to never end.)

“Aced it! I was really nervous about it, but I did the best in the class with a ninety-eight.” Peter beamed and you felt your own mood being lifted simply by being around him.

“Good job, Peter! Maybe tomorrow after school we can stop somewhere and get a bite to eat, my treat for how well you’ve been doing.” Peter smiled and nodded quickly, thanking you. Tony cleared his throat and you lightly rolled your eyes, walking to him.

“If you’re done with my mentee, I also needed you.” You lightly patted Tony’s shoulder, laughing when he slapped your hand away. “He’s actually the reason I need you. We’re working on a project for his chemistry class, and I need your help.” Tony showed you some rough sketches and your eyes scanned the papers as you took in everything.

“Ah, here.” You took a pencil Peter had nearby and erased a decimal, moving it over one to the left. “Try this instead.” Tony talked to himself under his breath as he recalculated everything and turned to face you and Peter.

“Kid, I think we’ve got a winning project.” Peter grinned and you stepped aside as him and Tony started discussing the project.

“I’m taking a producer credit for that!” You called as you walked out of the lab, leaving the two with their work.

———

The third time Tony needed you was late in the night. You padded down the hallway, walking to the kitchen. You were alone in the compound with the Avengers celebrating a successful mission with a night of drinks, and your stomach growling made it impossible to sleep. You made your way to the fridge once you were in the kitchen and opened the freezer, eyes scanning the shelves for your Ben & Jerry’s ice cream you had bought earlier that day.

“Jackpot.” You whispered to yourself. You took your ice cream to the couch, wrapped yourself in a blanket, and turned on Netflix as you happily ate your ice cream. You just finished your episode as you heard voices, recognizing the team.

“Hi, Y/N.” You heard Steve’s voice first, and you turned to face him.

“Hi, Steve. Did you have a good night?” Steve opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a very drunken and very loud Tony Stark.

“Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodey-o. Rodeo! I’m gonna start calling you Rodeo.” Tony slurred, holding onto Rhodey as he stumbled.

“No, absolutely not.” You stifled a laugh at the annoyance in his tone, and Tony’s eyes met yours.

“Y/N/N!” Tony tried to drag Rhodey along, resulting in both men stumbling and Tony falling to the floor. You got up and quickly walked over, helping Tony up. “Gravity check, still works. Don’t have to worry about floating away, it still works.” You cooed at Tony, supporting him as he leaned against you.

“Thank you for testing, Tones. I was really worried for a minute.” You heard a snort of laughter, seeing Natasha and Clint leaning against the wall, the redhead smirking and the archer looking amused. “How is he the only one who’s wasted?”

“He had some Asgardian liquor, Lady Y/N.” Thor’s voice filled the room, and you nodded in understanding. You had a shot of some liquor from Asgard that Thor had brought to a bonfire night a few months ago, and one was more than enough to get you drunk. Based on how Tony was acting, gods know how many he had. “He had many drinks. I told him he had enough yet he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“It’s alright, Thor. He’s a grown man, he can make his own stupid decisions.”

“Make them all the time!” Tony chirped from beside you, face buried in your hair. “Y/N, want to sleep. Need your help.”

“Do you need any help, Y/N?” Steve asked and you shook your head.

“I’ve got him.” You offered Steve a smile before looking at Tony. “Think you can walk with me?” Tony nodded and you supported him as you walked towards the elevator. “FRIDAY, take us to Tony’s floor please.” You spoke once you were in the elevator, and Tony clung to you as the elevator moved. You kept your hold on him and walked with him to his bedroom once the elevator doors opened.

“‘m thirsty, want more drinks.” Tony said after you walked into his room.

“I’ll get you a drink once you’re settled in bed, yeah? You need to change first, doubt you can sleep in your outfit.” You guided Tony to his bed. “Here, take a seat. I’ll help you with your shoes.” You helped him sit down, and he laughed as he fell back, now laying across his bed. “Tony, you can’t sleep like that.” You shook your head as you knelt down, carefully taking the man’s shoes off.

“Just have to close my eyes, and I can fall asleep. Sleeping isn’t hard.” Tony argued as you rolled your eyes, standing back up.

“You sure don’t sleep enough for something that’s not hard.” You countered and Tony pauses before responding.

“Touché.” You both laughed as Tony sat up with your help. You walked to Tony’s dresser and grabbed a pair of his sweatpants, glancing back at him every few seconds to make sure he stayed seated on his bed. He waved at you the third time you glanced back at him and gave you a dorky smile.

“Think you can handle getting dressed while I get some water for you?” You asked as you set the sweats beside him.

“Challenge accepted.” You nodded as you left Tony to change, and you grabbed a bottle of water and a bottle of Ibuprofen for the hangover you knew he’d have in the morning. When you came back to Tony’s room, you smiled when you saw him half asleep in bed, tangled in his duvet. You set the water and pill bottles on his nightstand, adjusting his blanket so it was draped comfortably over his body.

“Thank you... for taking care of me.” He mumbled, eyes still closed. You hummed as you carefully leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“It’s my pleasure. Goodnight, Tony.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

———

The fourth time Tony needed you was at the annual Stark Industries charity gala. Everything was falling apart hours before the gala. The orchestra’s trailer with all their instruments had a flat tire, the usual co-host caught a virus, the ice sculpture never got delivered, and Tony felt his anxiety climbing by the second. His hand trembled as he pressed call under your contact.

“I’m almost ready, Tony. I’m leaving soon.” You hummed as you applied your mascara, not really paying attention.

“Y/N.” Tony whispered, voice shaking.

“Tony? What’s happening, are you okay?” You immediately focused on him when you heard his voice.

“It’s... It’s all falling apart. I told you I could plan everything, you deserved the time off. And now everything’s ruined and the gala will be a bust.” You frowned deeply.

“Hey, hey. Tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll get it fixed.” As Tony explained everything, you grabbed your StarkPad and went to work.

“I’m sorry, you’re supposed to be getting ready and I’m cutting into your time.”

“Tony..” You frowned as he mumbled an apology and hung up. You sighed and made another phone call as you left, headed to the gala.

Tony walked back into the venue after half an hour and was surprised at what he saw. There in its spot was the missing ice sculpture. In a side stage, there was an orchestra setting up. And on the main stage, there you stood, in a floor-length gown. The [favorite color] satin clung to your body perfectly, and you looked stunning. Tony held his head high, feigning confidence, as he walked to you. He lightly rested his hand on your shoulder, and you turned around, smiling as you saw him.

“I don’t know how you did this, but I owe you infinitely for everything.” Tony spoke softly. You shook your head with a small smile.

“I’m just doing my job, Tony. When I heard how worried you sounded, I had to do something. I made a few phone calls, pulled a few strings, called in a few favors. And it’s all perfect.” You said.

“What about my co-host? I can’t do this alone.” Tony’s voice cracked and you gently took his hand.

“You aren’t alone, Tony. You’ve never been alone, and you never will. I’ll be here every step of the way, starting with helping you host tonight.”

With you and Tony hosting, this was the most successful gala Tony had hosted in years.

———

And then, there was the time you needed Tony. You woke up from a nightmare, your breathing shallow and tears streaming down your face. You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around your knees as you tried to calm yourself down. “FRIDAY? W-Where’s T-Tony?”

“Mr. Stark is in his lab. Would you like me to send him up?”

“N-No, thank you, FRIDAY. C-Can you take me down to the lab?” You got out of bed, and wrapped your blanket around you, dragging it behind you as you took the elevator to Tony’s lab.

Tony was in his lab, working on Peter’s web-shooters for his Spider-Man suit. The webs had been jamming up frequently lately, and the last thing Tony needed was his spider kid grounded. Tony finished his third cup of coffee when FRIDAY spoke.

“Boss, Ms. Y/L/N is approaching your lab. Should I let her in? She sounded distressed.” Tony looked up, responding.

“Please, FRI. Also dim the lights to fifteen percent, and play my midnight playlist at ten percent volume.” Tony set the web-shooters aside as you entered the lab. He frowned deeply when he saw you, your eyes red and puffy, tear marks on your cheeks. You wordlessly took a seat beside him, sniffling softly. “Come here.” Tony wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. You buried your face in Tony’s neck, your shaky breath hitting his exposed skin.

“I-I’m sorry. I just... I needed you.” You whispered and Tony held you tighter.

“I’m always going to be here. Whenever you need me, I’m yours.” Tony soothed, combing his fingers through your hair. You smiled against his neck, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your head. “Hold onto me.”

“W-Wait, what?” You gasped as Tony stood up, clinging to him. “Tony!”

“I warned you.” Tony adjusted your blanket, tucking it around you. “This chair is killing my back, we’re going to the couch.” Tony effortlessly carried you out of the lab, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Yeah, and carrying me is much better for your back, old man.” You squealed when Tony let go of you, and quickly grabbed on tighter to him. “Asshole!” You swatted the back of his head. Tony laughed as he carried you to the living room and then sat on the couch, holding you still.

“FRIDAY, turn on the television and play [your favorite movie].” As the movie started, you smiled up at Tony.

“Thank you. For everything.” Tony smiled in return as you both watched the movie. Thirty minutes in, you both had fallen asleep, your head on his chest and his legs draped over yours, as if holding you in place. And if Natasha and Sam had taken pictures of you when they saw the two of you asleep together in the morning? That was no one’s business but theirs.

Taglist: @daughter-of-stark @agent-barnes40 @spideygirl2003 ❤️ Taglist is OPEN. Let me know if you’d like to join! This was my first time writing Tony as a romantic interest, so I hope it wasn’t bad.

[monomonomagines]

Could I have a thing with the v1 girls and their s/o who is very talented at art. The girls find a sketchbook with countless pages of sketches of them and their s/o tells them they are practicing for when they do a more finshed piece because they hate they did not perfect drawing their gorgeous ass

Hello, Anon! I know I took a while getting to requests (as I’m sure you saw), so I’m very sorry if I seem rusty at all. However, I do hope that you’ll still enjoy this and that it is well worth the wait! I really appreciate your patience and support more than anything so thank you in advance. I again, hope that this is to your liking!

Sayaka

Sayaka was used to her more artistic fans giving her drawings and other sorts of gifts but she wasn't normally surprised by that. 

She was an idol after all so things like that were expected. However, even with how flattering it was, she didn't care half as much about all the fan mail and gifts she received if she were to compare it to anything you got her. 

You got to know the real her unlike most other people, you got to see every side of her even the ones she didn't like and you made her feel beautiful. 

However, even if you made her feel that way she didn't realize that you'd want to capture her image. 

She happened to chance upon a book without a title laying on a nearby table when she went to see you after a hard day of practicing for an upcoming concert. 

She wanted to ask you about but since you had been in the kitchen to grab the two of you drinks, she couldn't help but let her curiosity take over as she grabbed the book and opened it up, displaying a ton of images of her. 

Were these really all her? She had gotten so absorbed in flipping page after page that she couldn't help but jump when you exclaimed that none of those were finished. 

She couldn't believe it though, you were so talented and here you were telling her that none of these were good enough but how weren't they. 

She loved each one, even the scribbly messy ones that littered some odd pages. She loved them and even more, she loved that you wanted to perfect drawing her. 

Overcome by her emotions, she lost her normal composure, pulling you into a hug as she softly tells you, "I love them. I can't wait to see the final piece. Thank you, S/o!"

Celeste

Celeste, unlike Sayaka, would probably be aware of your artistic talent from the start of your relationship.

She'd always request pieces from you, sometimes even in ridiculously exorbitant amounts despite you being just one person. 

She never meant anything by it though, she loved your art and wanted to be the subject of it more than anything. 

That's why she didn't think anything of finding another one of your sketchbooks.

If anything, she was planning on just moving it to a better place when it slid out of her grasp and fell to the floor displaying a multitude of drawings of her. 

She would've been annoyed at that accursed book for falling out of her hands but at that, even her minor annoyance was washed away by a wave of joy. 

As she picked the book up and began to skim through it you had happened to walk in to bring her some tea, just the way she liked it when she made eye contact with you. 

"Thank you for the tea darling, were you planning on keeping these all from me?" 

She had a pleasant smile on her face but as you quickly explained that none of these were done she appeared to be in deep thought. 

"Ah, so you want to perfect drawing me? Well then, by all means, continue practicing. You can start now by drawing me as I enjoy my tea."

She'll sound as though she doesn't care much but a small smile will be on her lips the entire time you begin to draw. 

Sakura

Sakura normally helps you to tidy up your place for spring cleaning as moving certain pieces of furniture to clean around them was difficult for you to do alone.

It wouldn't be until you were taking a bathroom break though, that she'd notice a book of yours on a table you still had to wipe off. 

She'd only think about helping you out when she'd go to pick it up and accidentally swipe it off the table instead, causing the poor book to splay itself open only to display a ton of drawings of her. 

What was this? Before she could get a word out her hands had already shot out to pick up the sketchbook as she began to finally process that these all were indeed her. 

However, before she could close the book you had already made your way back to the same room and caught her peeking at your messy drawings. 

All you could do was explain that none of them were done and you wanted to perfect drawing her when you noticed a smile on her face. 

"I didn't mean to look but I'm glad still that you'd want to draw me. I love your drawings, S/o/" She'd assure in that gruff voice of hers as you go to hug her promising to show her the final piece. 

Aoi

Aoi has always been a bit hyper and even rough at times. It wasn't like she meant to but she could be a lot like a child at times with these traits. 

That's why unlike the others she couldn't just happen to chance upon a book of yours. 

Instead, she had happened to slap it right off your desk as she was telling you a story, using her hands for dramatic effect causing the poor thing to fly across the room, spilling itself open for both of you to see. 

Aoi was about to apologize, shocked out of her mind by her own mistake as she ran to pick it up only to see that those beautiful girls you drew were her. 

"S/o? A-are these really me!?" She calls out, red tinting her cheeks as a dopey smile creeps across her face. "You should've shown me these are great!"

Aoi, wouldn't want to listen even as you explained that none of these are done, insisting that they're perfect. She loved all your drawings of her even the scribbly messes. 

"S/o, you're the best! I love all of them!" She says pulling you into a big hug as she continues to disregard your comments on how they're "not that good". You can't convince this girl of that even if you had Sakura to help you.

Toko

Even though Toko had been dating you for a while and knew of your artistic talents, she didn't think much of them. 

You'd never draw someone ugly like her she'd always think to try to kill off her own hopes of you thinking she's anything more. She didn't mean to always fall into those kinds of thoughts but by now it was a habit for her. 

She always thought you'd eventually leave her for someone far prettier or nicer or something so she didn't bother to look much at your sketches. 

Rather, she was just planning on shelving a book when she noticed one that was placed haphazardly on top of the whole bookcase. 

Mild annoyance bubbled under her skin as she went to pick it up, knocking it off the shelf instead and causing it to fall open. 

Of course, she thought bitterly as she grabbed the poor book. They were probably drawings of some girl you liked more than her and wait....were these her!? 

She was so overcome by the shock of it all that she'd immediately shut the book only to soon begin giggling madly. 

You liked her, you really liked her. She was so happy that she needed to ask you about it. 

She'd pick the book back up, nervously walking to where you were currently sketching in another book asking you as she holds it up, "S-S/o are t-these really m-me!?" 

You couldn't believe her eyes as you realized she saw all of those and you couldn't help but to come clean, telling her how you wanted to perfect drawing her only causing her to erupt in more giggles. 

"So you r-really like me, huh? I guess I might b-be glad to know you do though." 

Mukuro

Mukuro loved you dearly for always being there for her. She would never dream of invading your privacy but she happened to feel like you were hiding something from her. 

You'd normally, proudly present your drawings for her to see and praise but lately, when she'd ask about them you'd just make some excuse that none of them are done.

It wasn't like you and she couldn't feel as though maybe you had just grown tired of her. She knew she wasn't as pretty as her sister and that she wasn't as great at expressing herself as other girls but did you really dislike her now? Was she not enough?

Despite these thoughts, she waited until you fell asleep on the couch at your place to take a peek in your latest sketchbook. 

She expected to probably see someone else or maybe even just things she couldn't give you but she didn't expect to see her. 

It shocked her and yet she couldn't stop herself from flipping page after page to see more. You hadn't gotten tired of her and she was so overjoyed that she couldn't stop herself from bombarding you with questions when you woke up. 

At your insistence that none of them are done and that you haven't perfected drawing her, she's barely listening though as she pulls you into a hug. 

"I love you. I'm so glad that you can love someone like me."

Junko

Junko was used to all sorts of things made her image thanks to her looks. She knew she was beautiful and she was honestly surprised that you hadn't already drawn her.

Contrasting Mukuro, Junko wouldn't be above snooping through your stuff as you went out to pick up some food for you two. 

She wanted to know what you drew and why you barely showed her anything. She had a pretty good guess of course, but seeing is believing or so they say. 

She was quickly able to find the latest sketchbook on our bedside table as she opened it and to her delight was greeted by countless sketches of her. 

She'd take her sweet time admiring each one, only setting down the book once you caught her as you came back home and began to explain that those were all works in progress. 

If these were all only practice then she was just excited to even more. However, she definitely would want to tease you about them just to cause your face to contort more. 

"Awww, S/o you should've told me you loved drawing me! I would've modeled for you anytime!"

Kyoko

Kyoko would notice you acting suspiciously immediately. 

She had a pretty good idea that it had to with your latest sketchbook as you didn't seem as talkative about your latest drawings.

She didn't want to pry but she was worried about you and decided to use her skills to quickly locate the object in question on your desk when you were making the two of you a snack.

She was planning on quickly making sure nothing was any cause of concern and slipping back into the living room without confronting you about it when she noticed that every drawing was of her. 

She was at a loss for words, embarrassed that she thought there was any cause for concern about these doodles of all things. 

She still wanted to confront you about and would probably ask you as soon as you come back to the living room with snacks. 

She'd calmly listen to you go on about how none of them are done and how you want to perfect drawing her and wouldn't be able to help a small smile makes it's way across her normally cold features.

"I think they're all perfect but I'll look forward to the final piece. Thank you, S/o."

[hisunshiine]

Money Heist | knj | Part 4

moodboard 1 | moodboard 2 | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist

↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Kim Namjoon x Reader starring in a bank robbery au

↳ M-18+, implied sexual content, major character deaths, bank robbery actions (violence, use of weapons, deciet)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Money Heist Masterlist | Heathfritillary (author)

The sound of the static coming from the radio woke me from my nap. Groggily, I shifted in the car seat and noticed that Ilsan was not in the driver’s seat. I began to change the frequency until I found a local Hawaiian station. We were the highlight. Everywhere. Our descriptions were plastered all over. We needed to leave Hawaii. It was that simple. We could not stay for too long.

The female radio host explained how every path out of the country was blocked. The authorities were adamant about locating and capturing the last two remaining thieves. It had been a little under a week since we left the condo and it felt like there was no way we would be able to get rid of them. It was as if they were closer than I could see. Every corner we passed, I was certain I would see a sea of armed police officers ready to shoot a bullet in my skull.

They were zeroing in on us.

As much as we denied it, Ilsan and I had silently been thinking of Gwangju and Seoul. It was either surrender or go out with a bang. What mattered more? Our lives intact and in prison to rot forever or our lives cut short. There was no right answer and it felt as if I had no control. However, all we knew was right now we were together and for now, we were alright.

Ilsan walked over to the car with a bag in hand. He sat on the driver’s seat and began to groan as he pulled out items that would help us alter our appearances, “They said you had dark hair,” he handed me a blonde wig.

“Namjoon. They have police everywhere.”

“I know.”

“We won’t be able to leave.”

“We can try. The airline strip not far from here.”

“So, we are sticking to the plan?”

“He should be there to operate it for us. Get us the hell out of Hawaii. It would be easier to show up at the airport.”

“The cops wouldn’t expect that,” I murmured and he chuckled. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” He looked at me with a smile on his lips until the radio hostess caught our attention. She announced that the mastermind known as the Professor had been spotted and arrested in Egypt. Ilsan squeezed my hand as a way to reassure me, “We’ll figure it out,” he said as he gently tucked my hair behind my ear, “We always do.” But despite his words, I could not help but feel utterly alone.

They had us. They took Gwacheon’s, Gwangju’s, and Daegu’s lives, captured Busan, GC, and Seoul. And now, they had the Professor. Case closed. They were only missing us. Although I could not see them, I felt the noose around my neck.

➰

We pulled to a gas station. I leaped out and Ilsan waited patiently until I returned. He kept guard. Luckily, the gas station was at a remote place. There was nothing but roads around. A single car was parked and we assumed it belonged to the owner.

Inside I paced as I collected snacks. We had been riding relentlessly with no pit stops, taking turns to drive while the other slept a little. We had one goal; get the hell out of Hawaii. The airstrip was a few miles ahead and that was our ticket to leave. The Professor knew where everyone was and hid in Egypt. Unfortunately, he had been caught. Nonetheless, he made sure back in Jindo that all of us would have an escape route if we ever were in the position to leave our condo as well as flee the countries we were hiding in, unrelated to each other and with zero communication.  

I got to the register and did not make eye contact with the hefty and sweaty locals. With the items on the counter, he began to ring them in as the overbearing heat made my scalp itch. The cheap wig Ilsan had bought was bothering me and the urge of ripping it off my head overcame me. I must have looked uncomfortable or something because I sensed the man slowed his pace. I eyed him momentarily from the safety of my sunglasses and requested he hurried up. I did not appreciate how he glared at me. As he did, however, I noticed his cellphone on the counter. It was within my reach and I contemplated the best strategy to take it. We had not informed the pilot that we would be cashing in on our escape plan. That cellphone could be useful.

I bumped into a shelf filled with bags of candy with such a force that the bags fell onto the floor, creating a loud sound that made the man halt and rushes over to me. Pretending to collect some of them while repeatedly apologizing, I stood when he began to mimic me and collect the bags from the floor. I used the opportunity to lean over and take his phone. That was when I noticed the police sketch of Ilsan and me. My heart caught in my throat as a sudden sting of fear pressed harshly on my chest. No wonder the man kept glaring at me.

I rushed out of the station and walked back to Ilsan who was casually leaning against the hood of the car, “We have been spotted,” I said out of breath and simultaneously the hefty man came out and began to yell after me.

Ilsan jumped into the driver’s seat and we drove away as fast as we could.

➰

The sound of Ilsan groaning as he slowly woke up made me glance at him briefly before my eyes returned to the road. The window was open and the cold breeze cooled our bodies as we drove under the overbearing sun. Ilsan did not say much upon waking. He glanced at the phone I had stolen and dialed the number we were forced to memorize back in Jindo.

After a few attempts, Ilsan grunted in frustration. The pilot was not picking up, “Fuck,” he hissed.

“Try again.”

“I’ve tried three times.”

“Try again.”

Reluctantly, he obeyed, “Still nothing.”

“Well, he can’t just ignore us.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Ilsan said, “What’s the number?” I repeated the exact same number as he had dialed, “Yeah, it’s the same number. He’s fucking us!”

I flinched as soon as he threw the phone, sensing his growing frustration, “Namjoon.”

“Just drive.” I bit my tongue but I could not help placing my hand on his thigh. Despite his irritation, he took my hand and kissed the back of it, “I am sorry.”  

“We should be there soon,” I said as I sped up, “We’ll figure it out, even if it means we have to hijack one and hold someone at gunpoint.” He began to chuckle as he caressed the back of my head.

“Get in the plane.” he mocked my voice and I grinned when suddenly a bump so fierce made the car bounce violently, “What the fuck?” Ilsan turned his head to see what I had hit, “Shit Y/N, that’s spike strips!”

“Namjoon.”

“We just hit spike strips! Why are there spike strips on the road?”

“Namjoon... ”

“What is it, baby, what is it?” I panted as I stared at the sea of cop cars and armed men and women pointing their guns at our car ahead. He matched my gaze and spotted them as well. “Baby, stop the car,” he murmured.

“I can’t.”

“Turn around.”

“I can’t, we fucked our tires!”

“Drive out of the road,” he instructed and I did.

The soil underneath made the car shake violently as the tires of the vehicle were disintegrating. I drove as fast as I could with tears running down my cheeks when the sudden sirens behind us went off. I glanced at the rearview mirror and wept at the sight of the police cars chasing us. Ilsan kept encouraging me to drive as he reached for the bag behind his seat, pulling out an RPD. With the window rolled down, he aimed the heavy machinery at the cars behind us, firing at them.

I could not think straight. I did not know how they got ahead of us, how they knew where we were. That was when I noticed the dash of the car. The cell phone I had stolen mockingly glared at me. I should not have taken it. My mind was racing as I attempted to keep the car as steady as possible for Ilsan. However, the ground underneath was too unstable. It was not meant to be driven on. By continuing, I knew there was no way we would openly surrender ourselves anymore especially with Ilsan shooting at them. Yet the images of Seoul giving himself up suddenly roamed my mind. He must have been as scared as I felt, Gwangju as well. But we gave up our right to surrender unlike Seoul and had chosen the same path as Gwangju.

When I could not see any more land, I hastily hit the breaks. Ilsan banged his head and cursed under his breath, “Namjoon, look.” I stared out at a beautiful ocean. No land in sight except a long way down.

I backed the car slightly and the sirens got louder and louder until they stopped. I shakily shifted as I glanced at the rearview mirror, spotting the police officers getting out of their cars, slowly and cautiously approaching ours.

They had us. There was no way out. We were stuck. They did not know our names but they yelled at us to step out of the car.

Every inch of me shook violently. I could not form any thoughts. The whole situation felt surreal to me. My brain could not comprehend what was going on. Then, as I whimpered, I felt Ilsan’s hand on the back of my head. He pulled me closer to him, foreheads pressed against each other as he repeatedly said he loved me. I wept into the long kiss he placed on my lips.

I had no idea what was going to happen but Ilsan murmured, “I shot at them to slow them down, baby, I am so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“You know you are the best thing that has happened to me, right? I love you.” He said in between the many kisses, “Do you trust me?” I nodded at his question as I clutched his jaw, kissing him as if it were the last time I would ever see him. “I failed to protect you. If we step out, they will shoot us.” I eyed him through a blurred vision, panting as my heart accelerated. “Trust me,” he tenderly kissed my forehead as he reached for my seatbelt, securing me in place, “Keep driving,” he then whispered as he clutched the RPD before letting go of me and stepping out of the car.

As soon as he did, I heard the officers shout at him to put the gun down. I begged him to return but he immediately dropped to the ground. Blood splashing everywhere as his tall and lean body took countless bullets to the chest. I cried out as I witnessed the love of my life, the man I chose to marry and spend the rest of my life with getting shot dead before my eyes.

My foot lingered at the pedal as my heart shattered into a million pieces. Then as my side of the car was forced open by one of the officers, he instructed fiercely with a gun pointed at me. I gazed out to the ocean briefly as Ilsan’s last attempt to keep his promise roamed my mind.

Keep driving . He wanted me to take my chances with the ocean instead of them. He did not want to fail me.

With pressure on my foot, I accelerated and drove the car off the cliff. Every inch of me was numb. I closed my eyes as the free fall made me feel light. Mind empty, heart aching, I gripped the steering wheel with tears running down my cheeks. I understood why Gwangju went out as he did and admired him for his bravery. I could be just as brave, surrender to a being unknown and embrace whatever that was beyond life.

Fear for the unknown was not the right word to use to express how I felt. Every waking moment, since the heist, was an uncertainty. Every passing day I had to look over my shoulder. Senses on high alert, heart-pounding fiercer, I had to stay sharp. And I did with the love of my life, Kim Namjoon, beside me. All we had to rely on were each other; our intuitions, rationality, the rush of adrenaline as it pumped through our veins as it guided us to safety. And I did not regret anything. How could I?  

Although it was short-lived, I had experienced something only a few did. True love. I would never regret receiving that note. For the first time in my life, I belonged somewhere. I belonged with my brothers and more importantly, I belonged with Namjoon. I was meant to find him. Like a chain of events, everything I did was supposed to lead me to him, to this moment, and to this ending.

➰

T H E    E N D

➰

↣ all rights reserved © heathfritillary 2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed. 

[seapandora]

Illusion, Part 3/?

Illusion｜Part 3/?

Bucky x oc!Lori

Warnings: Angst, betrayal, swearing, torture, violence

A/N: Part 3 already. And so many more parts to go! I´d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired of this particualr fic every now and then. Luckily for me, my brain knew this would happen. So, the old full part 3 and 4 are both done. Now I just have to edit them. I hope you guys enjoyed this holiday themed part, the next two parts will also be hoiday themed. I wanted them to be released before Christmas, but oh well… Again I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Comment/ share and like if you can! GIF-cred to owner as always! Holler if you want to be put on the taglist!

Summary: Reader is a supersoldier, one of a number, one of nine. Hydra´s backup for the asset. The group was started in 1974 and has been working under the radar, training for the day when the asset no longer exists. Lori is the only one left. Left in a cryo, she wasn’t discovered until 2023 when a certain captain and his buddy found her.

Words: 6557

Taglist: @selfsun​

2024

December was a weird month. It was dark and gloomy, but full of light and happiness. Bucky had been planning the trip to Steve for a while. He was always visiting Steve around Christmas-time, but he had a special plan this time. Lori would come with him, Sam would too. But it was the first time Lori would meet Steve. She knew all about him by now. Steve knew off her, but seeing as he wasn´t military or an avenger anymore, and he didn´t have access to her files. He only knew what Bucky had told him.

Lori had been made aware of the plans in advance so that she could plan a good gift for Americas golden boy. Even if the stories Bucky had told her didn´t paint him in that light. She liked hearing Bucky talk about Steve, and the time before the war. He had retrieved most of his memories from that time, but he liked talking about it because it made him feel less like a monster. Lori had thought long and hard about what she would get Steve. She really wanted to impress him.

December 23rd rolled around a lot quicker than anyone had expected, despite December being a very quiet month, with just one, very simple, mission. This was the day they were visiting Steve in his cabin. Peggy had passed away a few years earlier. Despite Steve going back in time, he hadn´t been able to change Peggys destiny, or her cause of death. It had taken a toll on the former Captain, but he was beginning to be happy, finally. He had his art and the occasional visit from his friends, and of course he had the kids he had made with Peggy.

Bucky was beyond nervous for letting the two super-soldiers meet, but he was looking forward to hear Steves thoughts on Lori. He was driving with Lori and Sam. The others had been sent on a mission the night before, and would be home that afternoon, meaning they missed out on meeting Steve. They had all agreed to go meet up with Steve around New Years instead. Lori sat in the back listening to music while Sam sat besides Bucky. They were bickering like always and Lori had decided music was the best way to cut them out.

“Newbie, hey Lori… Are you even listening?” Sam asked and reached back to grab her leg. Lori wisely moved her leg out of the way and slapped Sams arm. “What do you want potoo?” She asked and raised her eyebrows at the man in the passenger seat. She had taken to calling him potoo about a month ago, for no other reason than to piss him off. At first Sam hadn´t understood the joke but he had done some research and found out that potoos were weird-looking birds with crazy eyes. He wasn´t ashamed to admit that he was offended at first, but only until he realized that Lori would have had to go out of her way to look up weird birds to give him a nickname that was special to her, and her alone. After he realized that he had no issues with it. “We´re about to arrive so put your shoes and jacket on,” he explained and nodded to a small cabin showing up on the road in front of them.

She did as she was told. She wasn´t sure why, but Sam had accepted her as if she was his younger sister and despite everything, Lori trusted Sam. More than anyone really. Apart from Bucky of course, but Bucky was different. Much between Lori and Bucky was different. Bucky was the first one Lori had opened up to. She had already told him a lot about herself and her time with Hydra. He knew about most of the bad stuff she had been forced into. He had also seen her at her worst.

In October Lori had begun showing signs of post traumatic stress disorder, a disorder Helen had later given her. It had started with Lori being unable to sleep and she had instead stayed up for longer than she should. When she did start sleeping she had nightmares, bad ones. They were about her time in Hydra. Some were just filled with images of the people she had killed, others were about her missions. But most of her nightmares were about the punishments Hydra would give her. The nights they would tie her to a bed and torture her.

Lori would wake up in tears, and she wouldn´t dare to go back to sleep after that. One rainy, cold night Lori had gotten up and walked to Buckys room. She was originally planning to go to Sam and talk to him, but something had enticed her to go to Bucky instead. Her subconcious had said Bucky would understand her situation better. He had been awake and he had let Lori sleep in his bed curled up to his chest for the rest of the night. He had read somewhere that hearing calming sounds, such as rain patter, or a heartbeat, could be helpful, and thats what he tried to be.

That was the first night in a few weeks she had slept well. From that night Bucky made sure that Friday watched Lori during the nights, and he would be right outside knocking on her door when Friday alerted him to changes in her sleep. Lori really appreciated it. She appreciated Bucky for wanting to help her, and wanting the best for her. He was constantly there for her, even when she didnt know she needed him.

The air hit her as Sam opened the door for her. She was in the midst of tying her left shoe. It was cold, enough for both Lori and Bucky to want a jacket, and Sam was wearing a thicker jacket. He didnt have super-soldier serum, so he wasn´t as resistent to the cold as the two others. Being who he was he often complained about it as well, and he could become very grumpy when Lori or Bucky weren´t cold. It wasn´t fair in his books. He grumbled as he pulled the jacket closer around himself while Bucky and Lori kept theirs opened.

Steve was standing on the little patio in front of the cabin leaning on his cane. “I´ve got a fire going inside and Brooke made us all hot chocolate before she left, so come inside and get comfortable,” he said and smiled before he walked back into his cabin. Sam and Bucky followed after him while Lori took a bit longer. She didn´t analyze her surroundings, she trusted Bucky and Sam and their judgment.  If they felt safe in the environment, so did Lori. Bucky looked back to her and chuckled before he stretched his hand out to her. “Come on slow-poke,” he chuckled and watched as Lori took some slow steps up the stairs.

Lori gently took Buckys hand and let him guide her inside. They all took of their shoes, considering Steve himself claimed to be old to want to vaccuum every second day. Bucky helped Lori with her jacket and hung it up for her before they made their way further into the cabin. The seating area was small, and felt smaller with the original supersoldier, and the first winter soldier. Sure Steve had lost a bit of his muscle mass but he was still tall and he filled up a space like no bodys business. Bucky was just buff in general, muscular, tall-ish, and his broad shoulders really made him look bigger. Sam wasn´t as big as the other two, but he was still tall and muscular. Lori wasn´t small either, but she had a very different baseline from which the serum worked.

They all sat in silence for a while until Sam coughed a bit. “So Steve, meet Lori,” he said and gestured to Lori who waved shyly from her seat besides Bucky. “Lori, where are you from? I´ve heard a bit about you, but when were you born? And where?” He asked with a kind smile. He didn´t want to overdo things already, but he needed to know who she was before he trusted her. Before he could trust her to be around Bucky. Lori looked at him and played with her fingers. “Ehum, I was born in 1959 inSweden,” she answered and looked down at her hands. She didn´t feel intimidated by the supersoldier, but she felt like she had to show him respect. He was older, wiser and a better human being than she was.

Steve nodded and proceeded to ask Bucky and Sam about their latest mission. All to allow Lori to warm up to him. He didn´t want her to be nervous around him, he wanted her to consider him an ally, someone she could talk to if she needed. Lori stayed close to Bucky but looked around Steves cabin. There were one or two famous paintings as well as a few black and white sketches. Some were clearly of Peggy, a woman Lori would recognize anywhere. A few were of Bucky and Steve from what seemed like way back, possibly the time of the war. A few were simple landscapes, around the compound area. Lori had been on enough runs to recognize the scenery. Steve watched her and looked up at the sketches. “What do you think?” He asked and smiled at Lori.

She looked to Steve and then back to the sketches. “They´re beautiful. But I can´t say I´m not feeling a little uneasy by seeing a different Bucky.” She explained and sighed as she glanced to the Bucky she knew. “Oh, he isn´t different. Not really anyways, just hardened by what happened to him. When I see him I still see the Bucky from the 30´s and 40´s. He just takes longer to show that side of himself.” Steve argued and stood up. “Come with me, I´ll show you more sketches,” he said and smiled as he walked towards a room to the north of the cabin. Lori stood up as well and followed Steve.

The room was smaller than Lori had expected, but it didn´t have any furniture apart from a desk and a chair. However the walls were filled with pencil sketches. It was sketches of everything between heaven and hell. She looked around in awe and crossed her arms over her stomach. Sure the room wasn´t big but Lori felt small around the art. It was so beautiful, and meaningful, without Steve having to say so. Lori looked closer on a specific sketch of Bucky. She checked the date on it and realized it had been done in the summer of 2018.  That meant it was done after the snap, Bucky was gone by then. Steve noticed her looking at it and sighed. “We lost everything in the snap. For a few months I didn´t know what I was going to do.” Steve said softly and sighed as he sat down on the chair.

“Natasha took over the Avengers, or whatever it was by then. I couldn´t be around it all, I didn´t want to be around it all. I took over Sam´s VA-group, not that it was a VA-group by then. It was a way to help people understand what had happened.” Steve said quietly and drummed his fingers on the table. “I spent most of the five years sketching and trying to help people. I owed that to the world.” He continued. Lori looked at him and frowned. “But you did save the world. You reversed the snap, and you saved those who had been taken,” Lori exclaimed and tilted her head.  

Steve smirked a bit and shook his head. “I wasn´t alone in doing that, and Tony was the one to actually reverse it. “He said and rubbed the back of his head. Sitting there at his desk in front of the window with the snow falling outside, he looked lonely. “As true as that might be. I read that you were the one to inspire him to come back. That without you two making up, the world wouldn´t have been saved.” Lori said as her eyes slid over a sketch of Iron Man himself. Steve had sketches of all the team-members, well the original team-members at least.

“You and Bucky, huh?” He asked and Lori froze before she snapped her head towards Steve. “Wha… what? Me and Bucky, what?” She asked and looked terrified for a second before the look turned into confusion. “Oh you two aren´t fondueing?” He asked with a smirk, which he dropped as he saw the utter confusion on Lori´s face. “You´re not a couple? Youre not dating?” He asked instead and stood up from the chair. Lori just shook her head with a frown. “Oh wow, I´m sorry. It´s just the way you look at each other and the way you talk to each other and touch each other,” he said trying to explain his questions.

Lori looked down at her hands and sighed. “I… I like Bucky. He´s… he´s been very udnerstanding with me. I feel like there´s a trust between us that I´ve never had before. I really like Sam too, but more like a brother than anything.” She mumbled and picked at her fingers, a sign Steve often saw in people who were nervous. “Have you told Bucky about how you feel, or has he talked to you?” Steve asked and looked at her with interest. “No, no, no, I´m pretty sure he doesn´t feel that way,” Lori said quickly and put her hands up. Steve gave her a knowing look but nodded. “Alright, well I´m sorry I spoke on it when I was clearly unaware of the real situation. But please talk to Bucky about it. I´m sure it will all work out!” He said with a smile before he led Lori back into the livingroom.

Bucky looked up as Steve and Lori came back in. “Has he shown you all his sketches now?” He asked with a smile before he stood up to get the bag of gifts they had brought over. Lori smiled at Bucky and nodded her head. She couldn´t shake the feeling of what Steve had told her, and asked her about. She really hoped she´d get over it soon enough. She wasnt sure she was ready to make any of her feelings known. And she wasn´t even sure Bucky would care.

1973

Spring had rolled in with tons of rain. Lori wasn´t allowed outside but she heard it through the nights, and water was running down the cement-walls of her cell. It was wet and cold. Lori

hated it. She had never done anything to deserve this. She had never hurt a soul, she never wanted to hurt anyone. Now that was the only thing she did. Her captors forced her against soldiers every day, and so far she hadn´t lost one fight. If she had she wouldn´t be around. She did her best to stay in their good graces to not be tortured.

It had been a success, they hadn´t tied her to a bed in months. That meant Lori hadn´t been in any pain she couldn´t handle in a long time. If relief was a feeling she could still have she had it now. They had also given her a better mattress and a thicker blanket. It was awful that this was what Lori had begun to associate with something good. But her current situation had turned into being her new safe, her new norm.

She had just been woken up by loud banging in the hallway outside her cell. She had immediately gone into a fighting stance. Her entire existence was based on defeating others. Guards entered her room, there was five or six of them now, considering Lori had become quite strong since they started the super-serum experiment on her. She could easily take down two of the guards at once, but she had issues taking down four or more guards, they were quite strong themselves.

They blindfolded Lori and brought her out of the cell and past her usual training rooms. She knew the hallways fairly well by now. She was more scared when she felt fresh air and rain on her skin. She was outside. They had taken her outside. Lori hadn´t been outside since she was taken. It was strange, and she was now terrified. Would they kill her? Shoot her and dump her into a hole and then cover it up? Lori didn´t know and she wasn´t sure she wanted to know.

Lori could hear the sound of a car close by but she didn´t have time to think about it before she was pushed into the backseat of a car. She was uncomfortable but her arms weren´t tied so she could adjust herself. The guards told her to stay put, and she didn´t dare do anything else. The car started to move and Lori held on to the seats. She didn´t have any sense of direction and had to struggle against falling over whenever the car took a turn.

After an hour or so the car stopped and Lori felt hands tugging at her arms. She moved her legs out of the car and then the rest of her body. The hands guided her down some stairs and into some sort of damp bunker-like area. The floor was rough and Lori wasn´t wearing any shoes. It was clearly cement but she could smell something metallic and her best guess was that it was either the piping, of the bunker-like place, or iron covered walls.  

She was dragged to a room which was slightly warmer. After the experiment, Lori had become more aware of her surroundings. It was as if an entirely different part of her brain had been unlocked. The blindfold was removed and she blinked at the light and squinted her eyes. She refrained from reaching up to cover her eyes from the light. Her bad aclimatizing to the light meant she wasn´t ready for the slap that landed on her left cheek abrubtly turning her head. Lori groaned and closed her eyes again. She didn´t reach up to touch her cheek. There wasn´t any need to, that wouldnt be the last hit.

2024

The quartet ate smores and drank hot chocolate while exchanging gifts with each other. Well it was really the three avengers giving gifts to the retired avenger. They had gotten together and brainstormed Steves gifts one night and had then gone their separate ways to get them. Bucky had gotten Steve a new set of Aquarells and generally new supplies since he knew Steve was always running low by the end of the year. Sam had managed to get a deal on a warehouse just a few blocks away which now was Steves. It was a place he could store either his sketches or furniture from his house to fill it with more sketches.

Lori who barely knew Steve, but wanted to be liked by him, had gone all out. She had gifted him with a paid vacation to the Stockholm archepelago. It was the city she was from and she had always loved the ocean as a kid. Steve quickly declined her gift but Lori insisted. It was her wish that Steve would get to go there and make beautiful sketches in peace and not have to worry about anyone else. She had seen some of his landscape sketches and knew he could do amazing things with the right view.

They stayed for a bit longer, but decided that they should head back at around 3 pm. Steve had his family arriving later in the evening and wanted to clean up a bit, and the three avengers had to get back to the compound to start setting up things for christmas. They also had to get a tree on their way back. Sam asked Bucky to drop him halfway home. He had a few buisness to attend to. Bucky and Lori could get the tree themselves. The tree-farm was quite close to the compound, just one turn off actually. Bucky pulled up to the forest area and got out of the car pulling his jacket a bit tighter. They didn´t really get cold anymore but the wind still made his skin crawl.

A perfect tree stood right in front of them. Bucky thought it was perfect at least. Nearly every tree was perfect in his mind. He really didn´t care too much. Celebrating Christmas was something he did just for the others, he himself didn´t feel much of a connection to the holiday. Most of his previous ones had been spent killing or sleeping. He looked over to Lori, well, where she was supposed to be, but he couldnt find her. “Lori?” He called out and began to look around the trees to see if he could find her. The trees were quite a bit taller than Bucky and Lori was shorter than Bucky. She could have easily sneaked off and he wouldn´t be able to find her. She was a spy after all, and she had been trained by some of the best.

If she didn´t want to be found Bucky wouldn´t find her, but he did start to panick a bit when he had been searching for a few minutes. It wasn´t a big place, she couldn´t just disappear.  He had half a mind to try and call her when she came out from behind a tree looking for him. “Where did you go?” He asked with his voice slightly raised. “You can´t just run off,” he explained and sighed as he noticed Lori moving back a bit. He quickly realized it was because he raised his voice at her. He shook his head and held her hands up. “I´m sorry, I didn´t mean to raise my voice at you, I was worried. Did you find a tree you like?” He asked and gave Lori a soft smile to try and ease the blow from before.

Lori nodded and pointed in the direction of a row of trees a bit further into the farm. It was obvious why they had been placed farther away from where people would typically go. The trees were smaller and less perfect. Not awful, just slightly less ideal for a Christmas tree. “Are you sure doll? The compound is pretty big and we want a tree that can flourish in the environment, right?” He asked as he looked at the trees. If it truly was what Lori wanted he wouldn´t argue and he wouldn´t complain.  Lori looked over at Bucky and pouted a bit. “I know they´re not traditionally beautiful, but there´s a charm to them, don´t you agree?” She asked softly and touched one of the trees´ branches.

Bucky didn´t have the strength to say no to her so he simply nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Pick whichever one you like the most,” he said, defeat clear in his voice. He wasn´t actually upset with it though, why would he be? It was just a christmas tree.  Lori walked around for a bit longer before she decided on a tree that stood around 5´6 feet tall. Bucky happened to know the average christmas tree was 7 ft tall. He hadn´t googled that, nope, not at all…  He hadn´t googled Swedish Christmas traditions to be able to give Lori something sepcial either. Not that he had found much, and he felt like he had to talk to Lori about it before he put his plan to work.

They got the tree into the car and Bucky drove them back to the compound once they had paid for the tree. “I was looking online for something I could do for you and I found some old, well not old, traditions. Like a showing of Donald Duck, or something at 3 pm Swedish time, which is like 9 am here, tomorrow. I´ve fixed us a VPN so you can watch it if you´d like.” He said and stared hard at the road ahead of them. Lori glanced at him and smiled to herself. “I haven´t seen the Donald Duck Christmas showing since I was five or something, I´d love to watch it.” She answered and hugged herself as she curled up in the seat. It was beautiful outside, quiet and light. The road to the compound was mostly unused. The lower-level agents had all gotten the holidays off and if any situation came up the Avengers were stepping in. They had had a few months off when Lori was found and were now getting that time back.

Considering the compound was empty the snow was clean, and it was glimmering in the light of the car. It was dark out by now, but a few lanterns had been placed along the road, which meant it wasn´t pitchblack. Lori looked out the window and let out a silent sigh. Her first couple of Christmas celebrations had been amazing, but around the age of 8 or so her mother had stopped caring about making christmas special for Lori.  She was rarely home ,and if she was she had been drunk and Lori´s christmas had been ruined. Her father had never been around and she didn´t have any other family.

Bucky patted her leg and hummed. “So Donald Duck tomorrow. Would you like your present tomorrow as well. I read that that was also a tradition?” He asked and frowned a bit. Lori looked at him and chuckled. “You´ve surely done youre homework. Yes we do get our presents the 24th, but I dont mind waiting until the 25th, it´s not a big deal,” she explained and shrugged. Bucky nodded and smiled. “Alright, well I want you to tell me what you want from this Christmas. It´s your first in many many years, and I want you to enjoy it!” He said as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.  

Lori blushed and bit her lip. “I´m sure I´ll enjoy it as long as the team is around. You guys have done so much for me and I feel like you are all family to me.” she mumbled and pulled at the sleeves of her sweater which were sticking out under the sleeves of her jacket. Bucky smiled and reached over to take her hand. “We are your family, and you will always be safe with us.” He said and stroke the back of her hand.

Sure the two had spent nights together, after nightmares, but it had just been cuddles and hugs. But this felt different? Or maybe that was just Lori overthinking. Had something happened at Steves, or did she just now start to see the way Bucky interacted with her. He was always attentive to her needs and he always seemed to put her thoughts, and wishes first.

Bucky pulled into the garage at the compound and Lori got out of the car and got to open the trunk to get the tree. She wasn´t quick enough, and only managed to get the trunk open before Bucky gently nudged her out of the way and picked the tree up. Lori huffed a bit but backed away to give Bucky some space. “You could have just said you wanted to take it, instead of pushing me over,” she said and crossed her arms. Bucky laughed at her antics. “Hey did you want to carry it? I don´t mind” he shrugged. Lori shook her head and pouted. “No, you choose this, now you have to live with that choice,” She said and stomped over to the door holding it open for him.

She may be pouty but she wasn´t an asshole. Bucky chuckled once more and walked through the door she held open. “Thank you, do you want to go freshen up before we start decorating? I think the team is back, so you can catch up with Wanda and Peter if he´s still here” Bucky said. He didn´t want to crowd her or take up all of her time when he was certain that she and Wanda had a lot of things to talk about. They had grown so close in the past month. Lori had also gotten close to the young Parker-boy. Something that made Bucky a little uneasy at first, but he had quickly realized Lori only saw Peter as a younger brother, someone who helped her with technology and such.

Wanda made herself known quickly with a loud squeal as she ran to Lori to hug her. Lori hugged her back tightly and laughed a bit as Wanda showed her images of the mission. She often did that if it was something funny that one of the others didn´t want to be shared. Wanda pulled her to the kitchen so they could get something to eat and drink. Bucky was in turn left to his own demise as he was carrying the tree. He placed it down in the livingroom before he got Thor and Loki to help him get some decorations. They had a few boxes in the attic and Bucky didn´t feel like taking a million trips up and down the elevator.

The two gods had become regulars at the compound. Loki liked Lori a lot, she was just as tricky as he was and she liked to play pranks on Sam and Peter. She had learned a few from Loki. Of course she didn´t have his magic, but he shared what he could on “normal” tricks. Lori was a quick learner. Loki had tried to implement magic into it but Lori wasn´t having any of it. It wasnt fair considering neither Sam nor Peter was magical. Both of the gods had been very keen on letting Lori in on their story. Her favorite storyline so far was what had happened with Hela. She liked the fact that facing Hela had brought out the best in the brothers. Thor had been able to harnes his complete power and Loki had learned he wasn´t entirely bad.  

All the christmas decorations had been moved down from the attic by Bucky and the gods while Lori was catching up with Wanda and Peter. Sam had made his way back to the compound as well during that time. Once Lori was all caught up on the mission the three of them made their way to the livingroom where they saw all the boxes with decorations.  Lori looked around and frowned a bit. “We figured you´d want to take charge of the decorating,” Bucky explained as he looked around at all the boxes. Lori looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Well, I´definitely going to need some help,” She replied and huffed softly. Bucky laughed and nodded. “We´ll all help you, don´t worry about that” he smiled and got to setting the tree up. The foot needed assembling and well, the girls didn´t seem too interested and the gods had no idea what to do. Sam had already given up any sort of responsibility when it came to decorating.

Lori walked over to a box and opened it to see what was inside. Ornaments of all colours, shapes and sizes met her. She wasn´t a big fan of, over the top, decorating, and instead wanted to go for something more simple. She wanted the tree to look beautiful, and so her colors of choice were red and silver. It was simplistic but it fit them all. Well apart from Loki, but they would have reindeers up and around the compound. The rest of the avengers had grey or red incorportated into their suits and daily clothes. It would all feel more close-knit to Lori if she could see colors she felt comfortable with.

Wanda helped her a bit and used her powers to hang the ornaments in the windows and such. Peter was busy setting his aunts room up, for when she was coming over for Christmas. The gods were mostly standing around watching Lori and Wanda pick ornaments and decorate the livingroom. After a little while they moved to the kitchen and then the hallways. Bucky looked around after a little while noticing Lori and Wanda had left the room. He had been so invested in making sure the tree was standing safetly. “Hey where did Lori go?” He asked the gods who nodded towards the hallway.

He walked slowly wanting to give Lori and Wanda as much time as possible to hang their decorations, but he needed a few minutes alone with Lori. He found the two women after just a short while and smiled at their decorating skills. It was a bit of a mess actually but that was a later problem. “Hey Lori, can I talk to you for a sec?” He asked and frowned as he crossed his arms and waited for her go ahead. Lori tilted her head and thought for a second before she looked at Wanda, who nodded in approval. “I´ll finish up this hallway,” she said and nudged Lori towards Bucky. Lori groaned but walked over to Bucky ready to follow him, wherever he wanted to go.

Bucky smiled and held out his hand for Lori to take before he guided her down the hall to his room. He wanted them to have some privacy. Lori happily took his hand and followed him to his room. She wasn´t sure what he wanted to talk about but she was sure she wouldn´t mind. She liked the alone time she spent with Bucky. She took a quick look around Buckys room before she sat down on his bed, to which he had motioned. Bucky sat down besides her and turned to her taking both of Lori´s hands in his own. He was constantly in awe of how Lori didn´t seem to mind his metal arm and hand. She had no issues with the coldness that came from it. “So what was it you wanted to talk about?” Lori asked as she looked at Bucky. He looked so different from the pictures she had seen in his file. His hair was short, but she liked it. She understood why he had cut his hair. It was a reminder of his time with Hydra, and cutting it off was a way to leave that behind.

His hands were shaking slightly as he took a deep breath. “I… I´ve been meaning to talk to you for a while. Steve talked to me today, avbout it. And I kind of realized I had to… yeah I had to do this today,” he said and sighed. “Lori… I, I´m in love with you,” he said quietly and looked down at their hands. He could feel Lori freeze, her hands went stiff but she soon seemed to relax. She lot go of his metal hand and gently gripped Buckys chin to tilt his head up. He looked at her and felt his face heat up under her gaze. Blushing wasn´t something he was used to, emotions even less so.  

Lori smiled and leaned forward pressing her lips against Buckys. She could feel him still for a second before he melted into the kiss and grabbed her hand a little tighter. “Does… does this mean you feel the same?” Bucky asked as they broke for air. Lori giggled and nodded. “Yeah, I like you too,” she said and gave him a quick kiss. “How about we get back out, and we finish up decorating,. Eat some good food, and then I´ll be all yours tonight if you want, or we could go for a whole lot of cuddles,” she said and  bit her lip before she stood up and wiped her hands on her pants. Bucky stood up as well and hummed. “I´d like to spend the evening with you, but I have to go out and get some last minute presents,” he sighed.

1973

Her new bosses where hard on her. She hadn´t been this beaten up in a long time, maybe that was why she had been moved. It didn´t do her any good to dwell on it however, and hence she didn´t after the first day. She learned to follow orders, she learned not to talk back. She learned to be a compliant soldier.

The schedule she had been put on was brutal. At most she got four hours of undisturbed sleep, and those days she was lucky. Usually the nights were filled with screams making it near impossible to sleep more than a few minutes at the time. The days were filled with drills and training. She was trained in different languages, dancing, and general spy-subjects.  

In the few weeks she had been in her new prison she had learned proper french and russian. From before she had been forced to learn german and spanish. Swedish and english were languages she had known from before Hydra. She had overheard her captors talk about her learning italian and arabic as well.

And she did, it took her months but by mid august Lori was almost a perfect spy. The only thing she was lacking was the field-experience. And she would get that sooner than she thought. The very same month to be precise. It wasn´t a big mission, and it wouldn´t matter a lot if Lori failed, even if she would be punished hard if she did. But there was no risk in it for Hydra.

It was supposedly a simple elimination-mission, and the target wasn´t anyone too famous, but they had become a small threat to Hydra. Lori started by stalking the target for two days, they were simple, and obsessive about their schedule. Lori was able to take them out on her third day. She was then collected by Hydra and taken back to her prison without as much as a thank you or confirmation that she had done a good job.

When they got back to the holding place she was taken to her cell and left there for a few days. It wasn´t until five days later she got her next meal, and only after she had been through a thorough beating which left her forgetting her own name. When she came too she was back in her cell with half-eaten food in front of her and a small glass of water. She didn´t trust it for a second but swallowed it all down in seconds.

Her trust would earn her another beating. She wasn´t supposed to trust anything that was half eaten. She was not to make that mistake again, she was told. That was the first night in months she had cried herself to sleep. At the old place she had had a mattress and a nice blanket, now she had neither. She had her clothes to cushion the floor and to cover her from the cold in the room.

She had never thought it could get worse, but these new people. They were pure evil and Lori knew they would break her, and if they didn´t someone else would get the chance. That was her curse, ever since she became a super soldier. People wanted to break her, to be able to rebuild her.