#ill maybe draw something for her later if i can figure it out

[sea-jello]

happy mid autumn festival to my girl chang’e today is literally her day

[tanoraqui]

obviously the Historical Figure Episode(TM) of Doctor Who that I’d write would of the Noted Author subset endemic to the RTD Era; it’d be called “Spiders in the Trenches” and be set in the middle of World War One ft. one Lt. John Tolkien.

idk if the main aliens are spiders or if they're just using giant robotic spiders as soldier-minions. Either way, Tolkien is a little too defensive when he says he's not afraid of spiders.

The alien invaders want some sort of shiny mcguffin, maybe as a power source for their ship? Or for a mega-weapon? We do not want them to get it, at any rate. Race to find the Shiny Power Jewel-Thing which has been lost somewhere in this like 20-mile radius of the Western Front.

When our heroes narrowly beat the spiders to the SPJT, Tolkien realizes that the spiders only ever attack at night because light hurts them somehow, so he holds the SPJT up as it flares and shouts, "Get back, foul creatures! Back into the shadows from whence you came!"

(They're from the dark side of a tidally locked planet, and made for extremely low-light conditions? The SPJT flares because it's controlled telepathically and it connected to Tolkien's mind when he touched it?)

Ideally Tolkien's first encounter with the Doctor is that he wakes up in the trench one day (after losing some men to a mysterious monster in the darkness a couple nights ago?), and there's 2 random strangers in weird clothes idly singing and playing an instrument which they stole from someone a couple bedrolls down. (This works well with Fifteen & Ruby's established inclination to music!)

We do need an Eowyn Moment, because that's iconic, but I'd split it: for dialogue, at one point the head boss evil alien boasts, "No human can defeat the Tenebrarachnid Empire!" and the Doctor replies, "Good thing they've got me, then."...

[I don't know if this is a Fifteen line yet. I know it's a very Eleven line]

...and there's a soldier in Tolkien's unit who is revealed to be secretly a woman! Who disguised herself as a man in order to enlist for ??? reasons, and who dramatically pulls off her hat to reveal her long hair.

The third notable local character is the sort who inspired Sam Gamgee, "...the English soldier, [like] the privates and batmen I knew in the 1914 war, and recognized as so far superior to myself.”

^those two can have a romantic subplot if it fits (comrades-in-arms is also extremely good). Tolkien, however, at some point shows Ruby the picture of his wife Edith which he carries at all times, she of the black hair and bright grey eyes, and is obviously ready to monologue about how wonderful she is.

In the same scene(?), Tolkien looks up at the stars and says their brightness shining afar, clear of all the horrors on the ground, is always a source of hope and strength to him.

Maybe also in the same scene? Tolkien is shown to make up stories for fun, or to read them in his little spare time - fairy tales and mythological epics. Maybe he tells them to the men around the fire, maybe he keeps a little notebook, maybe he just admits to daydreaming... When asked why, he paraphrases his quote from later life, " Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?"

At some point (Star-watching scene? when the Doctor inevitably has to explain that aliens exist? when they're all saying goodbye in the end?) there's a line drawing attention to the Doctor's parallels with Eärendil - eternally wandering figure of hope, sailing the stars in a ship with a light on top, not quite mortal...

Tolkien DEFINITELY tries to figure out the alien language, in writing or speech.

Something the aliens are doing is making people sick. Maybe the attacking robo-spiders are venomous, maybe there's a toxic byproduct of the alien ship, maybe it's a deliberate first assault of the planned invasion... By the end of the episode, Tolkien is very ill. The Doctor has figured out an antidote and given it, but Tolkien says goodbye to him and Ruby only to stumble to a medical outpost - from where, the Doctor explains to Ruby, he'll be sent home with this bad case of what's assumed to be trench fever. Between the fever and the brief psychic entanglement, and unentanglement, with the SPJT, he won't even remember most of this, and what he does remember, he'll put down to fever dreams amidst the horrors of war.

But he'll remember some things! He'll remember an eternal wanderer of the stars, unaging and undying and ever-hopeful, heralded by light (and a vworrrp vrorrrp noise).

[ereyies]

i love your of mice and men oc. let me tell you i was scrolling thru the omam tag after reading that book for class because GOSH that ending destroyed me. bronwyn is so cute!!! and i love the ideas you have for her character and how she’d add onto the book. is there any more of your character that u thought of?? i’d love it hear it! ur art is stunning btw!!!

artists and writers are the backbone of dead fandoms. but i dont know if you could even call this fandom dead cuz i dont think it even had a life 💀

THANK YOU SO INCREDIBLY MUCH!!

this means the entire world to me you have no idea just how touched i am that you love my oc 💖 💖!! be VERY careful going through the of mice and men tag because unfortunately there are a LOT of nsfw bots!!

as for anything else relating to Bronwyn and her character, I don't have much else written/in mind other than that I have already shared other than maybe two things (copied and pasted from a document i made just to keep track of her lore):

Candy and Bronwyn probably wouldn't be close despite Candy having worked at the ranch for years. Not because of anything bad that happened between them, however I imagine that Candy was initially the main contributor to all the gossip said about her on the ranch and later on he learned she wasn't a bad person at all and just a lonely ill child, but by that point he had both immortalised her as a legend but condemned her from ever making real connections with people again. Knowing what he started and how he unintentionally isolated her and prevented her from being easily able to make friends with people on the ranch, the guilt would probably prevent him from forming any close connections with her.

I feel like if she were actually a character within the novel, her presence within the story would be similar to Andrey Bolkonsky in the musical Natasha, Pierre, & the Great Comet of 1812 (brilliant but strange musical btw, if you're interested in musicals it's definitely worth a listen!!). She is this looming presence amongst all the characters, always being mentioned in passing during conversation, this figure that everyone is aware of yet never sees, never actually being present in person up until the very end.

Candy would probably be the reader's introduction to Bronwyn, since Candy is a known gossiper. She'd be this influence in the story but is never truly there. I'm not too sure how she'd be important if that were the case though? Perhaps she'd be a figure symbolic of a 'point of no return' for all the characters. They all have a dream that isn't totally impossible which they come very close to achieving, and could very well leave their situation, but Bronwyn never had a chance and can never truly escape, locked up just to be forgotten about. Maybe she'd be a warning of the terrible fate which Lennie would have faced if he had lived and been institutionalised.

ANYWAYS moving past all of that; i have only made very few drawings of Bronwyn since my last post talking about her (admittedly due to extreme art block). But I’ve mostly been brainstorming about Curley and Bronwyn, the similarities and differences between them, mostly differences. Here is some of my recent art:

I always love experimenting and playing around with my style, trying out new brushes, techniques and colours <33 The last isn’t exactly my favourite mostly because i was just getting a feel for how to draw Curley and had little to no references for the pose and so it looks a little stiff. But!! I made many notes for my ideas while I was doing the sketch:

Thank you once more for your ask!! It means the world to me <33 I was so embarrassed when I first made her and feared being called ‘cringe’ or that people wouldn’t like her or something else along those lines, but the reception so far has been nothing but positive and encouraging!! I definitely plan to make more art and potentially even write some short fanfics including her in the future!!

oh one final thing, i also made a spotify playlist for her!! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0qrBhwqopc6KrC7RouFxOZ?si=GPudTv12S92QwBBXqxw0Bg&pi=khdpmOzjTfeQP

Thank you once more for being so kind <33 I hope you have the most wonderful day/evening/night!!

[huh-1260]

So the LU gundam AU continues and

Wind and Twilight the only non clone children of the Chain! Bow I've shared some details from the LU Whumpever server, so I shall make a separate post for those details, BTW I just realized I forgot to mention Four on the server.

But, back to Wind and Twilight. Wind is a regular person (for now) but he's a space pirate. At first I was going for something like Mobile Suit Crossbone Gundam, but my ass is so unfamiliar with it, so I'm leaning more into the Gundam Astray story. So for Time's finally fight with the government, before he goes into the Fierce Deity equivalent of a Gundam (maybe I'll draw it later) to fight Skull kid/Majora (spoilers: Skull kid dies). With Legend's creation, which only happen because they found the arm of Time's original Gundam. So for Wind, he found the rest of the mobile suit. And because of certain details, aka the Time travel ability of the Ocarina of Time, the time ability goes to Wind to be the Phantom Sword (Lol I might call Wind's Gundam the Phantom Gundam). But for Wind's windwaker, that's where Wild comes in. Now it was very easy for me to say Wild and his team/Champions were abandoned to die but bot the state of the mobile suits. Now the Champions are dead, because it was a suicide mission. And for Wind's replacement arm for the Phantom Gundam, is Revali's mobile suites arm because fuck yeah Gundam Astray Gold frame with the Blitz arm. And with Wind basically not repainting the suit for some time that's how the Governemnt knew Time was alive and just deserted the army, so Time is considered a traitor to the government.

Which leads me to Twilight. Twilight is Time and Malon's son. (uh I forgot the two people that are Twilight's adopted parents in some people's fics so they're babysitters/godparents for Twilight because I feel bad for leaving them out) The Fierce Deity mobile suit was repurposed for Twilight's mobile suit, much to Time's argument against mobile suits because killing Skull kid and reading his older brother figure file of him dying in mobile suits still haunts him. (Hehehe Warriors isn't actually dead but hehhehhehe that makes the reunion more angsty along with the HADES system, ill probably rename it to SPIRIT or FOCUS if i figure out a way to make the system based off the HADES with those letters.) Twilight is a rebellious kid. Gotta keep the Gundam tradition alive by having children in Mobile suits fighting in a war they have no idea about. Also I'm going to have more than just Witch from Mercury reference be stuck to Time, I'm going to let baby Twilight sneak out and bond with the Gundam. And have Twilight get his markings from the suit too. But I'm going to let the suit transform into a wolf so I can have wolfie without any potential animal deaths in the future in case I want more angst. So because Time is a deserter, Twilight had to move around a lot and staying in Ordon for the longest time was his norm until, he meets Midna. A mobile suit designer, (well I can make her like the daughter of a mobile suit company which I guess can consider her a princess in some way) Midna helps with the Wolf Gundam (because it's no longer the Fierce Deity) and when she has to leave, their location is pretty much compromised. Which eventually leads to Twilight and Time going to space and meeting the rest of the chain, aka Twilight's uncles and Wind.

BTW designs are not final!

[hitracks]

BWAH tysm i'm deffo a mr fear kind of guy but it's really so fun :heart_hands emojis: so i'm happy to engage. if i can ask you some questions. ONE what's the outline idea for your funger au and TWO who's your favorite character from og funger. and least fave maybe :] yes

ILL ANSWER 2 FIRST cause it’s easier. My favorite in general is probably Cahara … wonderful bisexual wife guy. I am a terrible no good sucker for found family. Him and the girl make me want to throw up and die. Least favorite, other than Legarde, PROBABLY VALTIEL? Dude he just pisses me off hes such a little asshole. Not even prevalent enough for everyone to know about him either … just get smarter freak. Fellowship would’ve done numbers without you being the strange cisman Incel of the group…

FIRST ONE. OKAY. Outline is really really rough but, it happens BEFORE the current termina festival that you are seeing in game. So while things are still ‘set up’ where in game events or npcs would be around but not to the point where you would get the same endings… Like the ending with Relia ( Olivia’s Sister ) isn’t able to happen because Olivia is not there to trigger that event nor has Relia and her Team gotten to Prehevil ! This also means it’s before the Kaiser ( Legarde / Yellow King ) gets his hands on it completely, so most normal things about the festival are in full swing. Same starting event happens where they are on the train when it stops & they are unable to start it again … I am not entirely sure who I will focus on story wise first, but I have a lot of rough ideas for most of them. Some of the characters ( dsmp ones ) I have turned into Enemies with their likeness :-] some are just beasts and others are more coherent individuals just gone crazy by Rher. For example I am including DreamTeam but they got there a day before the rest of the party, and moonscorching effects already take over them just because the lot of them are susceptible to such …. So the rest of them would run into those three early on and only figure out later that THOSE WERE ACTUAL GUYS!!!! NOT JUST BIG SCARY BEASTS!

ENDING WISEEEE I want to try and do something with the egg & sulfur cultists for a general one … I think it would be interesting to play around with considering Rhers effects branch out like a living creature. Obviously all the B endings as well, which is just where the ‘main’ person survives and the rest of them it is either ambiguous or you kill them. If I have the brain power too I think I could definitely replace like. Relias story line to have something to do with Connor & Karl regarding DreamXD …. I will have to think on it more though. It would be hard to incorporate new gods into the already muddy storyline. Phil needs to be there too or I’m gonna lose my mind ( I like drawing him. )

[nothbee]

First thing I do when I finish Yttd is turn to my drawing board and go I Gotta make an au.

Because I want to explore these characters more… but so much of whats interesting comes from the horrific circumstances! So its not as fun finding one where theres just never been a death game. I need to figure out how to traumatize them in new different ways where I can explore their dynamics. < Midori voice

Im rambling so ill put a readmore :P

But anyway. Thinking of a sorta detective au where the death game hasn’t happened yet but all the Asunaro stuff is still pressing and in the works. And what kickstarts it is Sara and Joe almost getting kidnapped and Joe getting really badly injured, and Sara is panicking on how she’ll get Joe somewhere in time when Keiji shows up to help take him to the hospital?

Sara is grateful for the help, Keiji dips before he has to actually go inside but not before Sara gets a name and some vague leads on what happened. And now We all know Sara, shes a stubborn girl, her best friend is unconscious and injured and its weighing horribly on her heart. So she starts doing everything she can to investigate what happened- trying to dig into places she really shouldn’t

Later, she runs into Keiji again and sorta verbally corners him. Keiji relents and decides to help Sara out with this ‘investigation’. Mostly because he can tell Sara will do it anyway with or without his help and he’d like to keep an eye on her.

And thats basically my Hook. Detective duo Keiji and Sara! Digging into all the shell companies Asunaro has left behind. Later on I want Sou to get dragged into the like ‘main investigative team’ because it adds drama. And sou is a very very good lead they just have to figure out how to get him to talk/hes helpful in ways they dont know how he manages so they keep him around even though he sucks

Im not ignoring all the other characters im just still figuring out what they’re doing. I think I’m adjusting things so they’re just where they are pre-death game? Maybe with a few more nefarious ties so they all have reason to interact? I was thinking with Alice that maybe he evaded jail by getting involved with asunaro and hes just dropped off the map (Not that I think hes malicious or wants to evade jail— i just think hes VERY good at getting in over his head.)

I also don’t know how to handle hinako (Still can’t tell if pink hair is a really small young adult or a middle schooler) so I was gonna say fuck it and make them twins or alter egos or something.

So far thats all :-) if you read all that and have any thoughts… I’d love to hear it!!!! o7

[red-might-be-dead]

RAHHHHHH CAN YOU TELL ME THE SILLY LORE OF YOUR UNNAMED OC???!!??!?

EHEHEEEHEEEE :DDDD YESSSSS!!!!!!

okay okay so

tw for like death and murder and lab shit and stuff, got some mad scientist type bs going on....

none of this is really set in stone btw i have a tendency to change lore over and over and over ripp

basically i just really wanted to make some kind of apocalypse/secret lab type story because all of my ocs so far have been from the same fantasy type story, so far i only have three ocs from my silly little unnamed oc's story (and all of them dont have names! shocking i know!)

so this guy, (im gonna call him 1 for now bc bro remains WITHOUT A NAME) is the son of a pretty prestigious and well know genetic engineer (1's mum is one of the three characters so far and he doesn’t have a dad lmaoo).

1's mum was researching animal/human gene splicing and also developments of diseases and how they travel from animals to humans. yk like trying to figure out how sometimes humans will contract some diseases from animals but other diseases wont get passed on.

this is why 1 has his pointy teeth (bro got his genes spliced by his mother when he was younger) the pointy teeth definitely ALWAYS had lore and definitely DIDNT occur just because i like to draw pointy teeth... definitely

okay so further down the line into 1's mums experiment there was an accident, some kind of mutation she had created had got loose and attacked a bunch of the scientists in her facility, whilst trying to escape she ends up being killed by said mutation (im still undecided on if i should make her cold and cruel or kind but slightly crazy btw... but i'll figure it out eventually)

this facility is out in the middle of nowhere and 1 is pretty much used to not seeing his mum for really long periods of time at this point so he doesn't know anything is wrong for a while. he only realised about two or three months later when the news reported some kind of strange creature in a small town pretty close to the facility, he recognised the mutation and knew that his mum had created it.

later on in the story 1 realises he isn’t actually a human he’s just another of his mothers experiments but for some reason she got attached to him and raised him like a real child (that’s why he doesn’t have a biological father lol)

he has one friend (i’m gonna call them 2 bc i don’t have a name for them either sobs) and he spends quite a lot of time with them, i haven’t got their design down properly yet but i’m pretty sure i want to give them some kind of dyed blue hair…. maybe…….. idk

1 and 2 are the type of kids to just absolutely fuck up an easy task like to the max - they would set the kitchen on fire whilst trying to make a sandwich. 2 is actually pretty clever but as soon as they spend any amount of time with 1 it’s like all of their smarts just disappear.

i think the best way to describe 1’s personality is a massive puppy that likes to bite you but doesn’t really understand it’s own strength - he’s a bit clueless and slightly blood thirsty

2 plays guitar btw, not that that really means anything it’s just a fun little fact :D

AKSHKAJSJA THAT WAS A LOT IF I HAVE FORGOTTEN SOMETHING ILL MAKE ANOTHER TEXT POST LMAO IF THERE IS ANY SPELLING OR GRAMMAR ERRORS IM SORRY SLHDKSJDJSND

[orchid-arts1]

TLDR: i did my best when fusing g1 and g3 draculaura

alright so ive been thinking about draculaura and her character in both g1 and g3. i wanted to keep her a bit older but not 1600. maybe 160-260? idk and dracula kept her homeschooled for a good chunk of that time before monster high. she originally was a human turned vampire during the great plagues of 1800s. her mom practiced witchcraft (which i imagine is more like a religion or something idk) however there is a conflict between witches and vampires. they are mistaken as one another are and were executed around the world. witches also use many substances that puts vampires at risk (ex. their ingredients for potions.) monsters are on the line with witchcraft because both humans and monsters can practice it. it also has pros and cons for the community because it can hide or reveal the monster world

though dracula fell in love with witch, he did not vocalize his relationship because vampire society are stricklers for traditions and he did not want to risk a coup. draculaura's mom moved away to protect the secret and for her own safety (both used to stay at dracula's house) draculaura understands this but wants to learn more about her mom (she left around her teenage years but age messes up memory a bit) and what she practiced. she hopes to mend the two sides relationship.

her dad doesn't know that she started practicing witchcraft and she doesnt want to stress him out. the different races of monsters (werecats, werewolves, etc.) have high tensions and the vampires are getting anxious. since hes king, he is trying to keep peace for the most part. he sends draculaura to monster high to start making connections with different monsters and he doesnt have to worry about her.

she probs arrives at monster high about 3-5 years before meeting frankie and clawdeen but the first few years she is trying to get used to her new environment. gory fangtell joins her at monster high (shes traditional, upper class and knew draculaura a bit because of fancy parties. she born a vampire, not turned like draculaura and has a bit of jealousy towards her). gory is quick to judge and wants to keep the scary vampire stereotype and sticks with draculaura. (ill probs draw gory later) this prevents her to be friends with new people, but gets her to climb the ranks in the academic field and achieving pfft rank

draculaura has good knowledge of the world but can feel out of place because shes old. she starts to change her outfits from victorian/academia wear to a more gothic and comfy wear though out the years she is at monster high. she visits her dad on long weekends

the year she met clawdeen and frankie, she decided that she wanted to better herself and figure out ways to bring the conflict between vampires and witches to an end. she cuts gory out of her life until she reflects on herself and how closed mind the vampire society is. gory can be an antagonist like toralei. draculaura gets development when she recognizes the toxic relationship and ends it.

when shes roommates with frankie and cladeen, she is comfortable sharing her interests in witchcraft and magic (unlike the times when she was with gory)

yea i think thats about it :l

[nihiltism]

since ive been too College to have enough art for any sort of summary im just gonna put a general year end rundown of what i feel i did best on this year!!

i think every year since i figured out that i dont need to use pens to line has just gotten better art wise for me. FUCK lining. pencils are my best friends forever and ever and can do your job better than you ever could. anyway apologies for some of these drawings being crunchier than others, i only recently got a scanner and Cannot be assed to scan my old art for this post rn.

also the first art here is a hatoful boyfriend spoiler. i mean i guess the last one is too but its vaguer i think. anyway. none of these are actually analyses of what i learned with each art im just braining

april 5th-

you guys know this one i REALLY like it. why in the goddamn were my best pieces this year hatoful boyfriend. anyway i uh. hey did you know that i didnt do the notgeki with graphite because i like mixed media. i did it because i have not owned a grey pencil for my some-teen years of drawing ever. i only JUST got a grey pencil like. a couple months ago. i mean im good with graphite i would have done it like that anyway but. yeah. anyway this was abt the height of my beginning hatoful fix and Also indirectly what got me to meet like a bunch of my mutuals here!! i did. not know there was a hatoful community. and because That i actually started using tumblr so!! hey thanks hitori. i need to do more birdform art.

april 15th -

this motherfucker! ill be. completely honest i dont have a lot of feedback for a lot of my graphite art bc ive Been doing this. ok actually yknow what i will say. there is a limit for how dark something can be with graphite and i Very much remember going over the inside of the cloak So Much. this was my pet project during my weekly 3 hour long lecture so god bless it. also i do still like how i did the eye. can i draw eye guys exclusively please.

july 3rd -

not really Art im proud of but!! holy shit i dont design often and i dont hate this!! this is at least in part thanks to my gf. my gf knows how to clothes better than i do so i did ask them for help. also i really need to scan this one. or maybe draw her a new ref. anyway (holds up celine) look at her. look at the silly.

september 6th -

this one was a trade for my friend raicatty and. also something i probably should have scanned. but its fine. anyway this one did teach me something and its To Line Your Damn Pieces Darker. lining with the color that youre going to be coloring in is kind of Asking For Disaster if it overlaps with others and u can. see that. this is a bit imparseable. but its also pretty. and thats all that really matters. a fun fact for when i ever do commissions is that being allowed to use this purpley pink pencil i have will make me really happy. its so pretty.

OERSHRIMP INTERLUDE

OERSHRIMP INTERLUDE

november 13 -

forgive me for including a sketch in this but YOU DONT UNDERSTAND IVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO DRAW HUMANS. like. NEVER. much less in an actual decent pose. (god bless adorkastock) im So very delighted by this oboromaru and hes!! like!! one of my least favorite characters!! (not to say i dislike him hes just lower). i dont know what happened here!! if this wasnt at the very back of my Sketchbook I Just Put Away Because It Was Falling Apart id say id finish this one later. rip. he and that dark daroach sketch i had there can just vibe i guess.

aaand the big one. december 8th -

things i learned from this one! 1. the scanner did not pick up the red lines very well! 2. scanners are good! 3: NEVER do a full page project again! buuut i do want to say i am like. insanely proud of this one. its the first art ive done i can really say has any sort of Composition and im so delighted that it turned out just as cool as it looked in my head. also this took forever and i could have easily messed it up Multiple times in the process. so god bless.

[literalgrill]

"and the general public is unaware of it" So uh, I hate to burst your bubble here, but The Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea sold SIX MILLION UNITS the year it was released ALONE. It was so popular it got re-released in 2008 AND in a combo set in 2013. It's SOUNDTRACK ALONE was so popular it was released TWICE. It's recommended to watch by every single person watching any Little Mermaid on Disney plus. Oh yeah, it's promoted by the company itself? On their own platform? The actors of the live action remake LITERALLY TALKED ABOUT THE SECOND MOVIE. It's so relevant they've considered REMAKING IT. Just because YOU aren't informed about something doesn't mean the general public doesn't know about it. I think folks who are so into Disney they're looking up shipping art online MIGHT be aware of the second movie existing. Ahem... Anyways... Ignoring that utterly incorrect knowledge of Disney history... I have questions for you. Why are you instantly assuming some sort of bad intent when coming across this piece of art? If you don't want folks "attacking" you, why are you going out and attacking others? If you don't want "pro shippers" interacting with you, why are you going out of your way to interact with people you consider as such? A lot of people enjoyed this art because they approached it in good faith. You don't HAVE to assume there's some sort of ill intent with age gaps in an art piece. It is in fact, it's perfectly reasonable to assume random strangers are not evil and trying to do some sort of secret grooming behavior! Perhaps someone drew a cute piece with lesbians and posted it on the internet not thinking they'd need to put in a ton of details because it's just cute fucking art of a character NOT EVEN IN HER CANON DRESS so who the fuck knows which movie she'd be from, and figured people could get the context that it's just supposed to be cute lesbians together. They could be aged up, they could be aged DOWN, who cares? The context is just wholesome lesbian romance. Their age was not a focus of the picture, the storyline of the mini comic here, NOTHING.

It's YOU who decided something was wrong here. You made this "problematic" in your own mind, not the artist. This is a perfectly harmless piece of art. But hey, you don't like it? Some folks have the maturity to simply scroll past something if they dislike it because it's not hurting anyone in any capacity. You broke that social contract of just living and letting live, and now seem surprised that perfectly kind and normal folks who don't see bogey men around every corner are taking the time to educate you not only on having good manners, but on how a concept called lateral violence works. Here, take a look at this very famous Tumblr post to learn more. Do not assume you know of "all the fandom" just because you hang out in one tiny portion of it. This artist has been consuming Disney media since before you were alive. Maybe, just maybe, they have experience with a far wider breadth and scope of Disney fandom than you do. P.S. Internalized homophobia is a thing. We can hurt people within our own communities and have prejudices against people in them despite being a part of said communities. People aren't saying you're homophobic just because you have an issue with age gaps. People are raising their eyebrows because you decided you couldn't keep your fingers off a keyboard long enough to leave a perfectly kind artist who has dedicated a blog to Disney femslash spaces for OVER A DECADE alone who posted a cute picture. Are you going this hard against folks drawing canon age gap weirdness of Ariel and Eric? If not, that's the point people are trying to get across. If you're only being weird to someone making a LESBIAN piece of art... Maybe consider why you're doing that. @jacarandaaaas

Isabela: Ariel! That's -

(a weed)

Ariel: 😀

Isabela: Pretty 😍 ✨️ 💖

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[decadentrot]

It is finally summer so i have the time to pump out a couple AUs out in the open cause they have been taking up too much free real estate in my brain (●'◡'●)

Ok so BKDK Nerd AU right:

Izuku and Katsuki are best buds as kids who live their life to the fullest until tragedy strikes. Izuku’s father gonna divorce his mom and leave his ass but as a parting gift he gives Izuku an All Might plush.

From there on, every traumatic experience Izuku has, Izuku will treat himself to buying a new hero plush and thats his coping mechanism. Basically at the tender age of 5, Izuku has developed the habit of retail therapy.

He finds out he's quirkless, ‘dont worry he has an all might doll to remind him to be strong in tough times.’ Kacchan starts bullying him, ‘ok let me buy that mirko doll to remind me that you always gotta keep going and stay determined.' His mom dies, ‘oh look a ms.joke plush to remind me to always keep smiling no matter what ( totally not b/c the green hair reminds him of his mom.’ Izuku gets sent to an orphanage, ‘ahh ill get a present mic figure. Maybe his confience can rub off on me and I’ll befriend the other orphans…’

At the orphanage he meets his roomie… dun dun dun Shinsou woo and at first they kinda ignore each other until Izuku wakes up at 2 am and feeling scared of this new environment and wants to sneak out to buy a new plush and sees his roomie also awake crouched over a laptop with over 300+ items on his amazon wishlist (hes even more aghast when he sees all of those items are cat related.) Nevertheless, together they enable eachother's bad shopping habits and become the resident disaster duo. Also Izuku decides not to go to the UA and instead decides to follow in his moms footsteps and become a nurse, while Shinsou learns of UAs difficult entrance exam and when inquiring about Izuku's ms joke plush, he decides to attend Ketsubutsu Academy where she works and try to learn to be an underground hero like her (I like to think shes also underground cause shes close to aizawa)

Meanwhile, Katsuki was never really one for plushes or dolls thinking thats soft shit but he always still kept the matching Endeavor keychain he still has when Izuku's father also got them when they were kids so he doesnt feel left out. Anywho he goes to UA, feeling like something is missing but adamantly refusing to admit he misses  certain green bean. He goes on grumpy and frustrated and eventually meet Shoto who sees the Endeavor keychain and gets angry at it to the point where he burns it and Katsuki is angry cause 'hey thats the last reminder of my connection to my childhood best friend' and Shoto gets angry cause 'what the hell he just said he wasnt gonna use his fire ever and he just broke his promise' They become ultimate rivals ™ which eventually turns into friends eventually in their UA years and they all work out their trauma together

Speaking of UA years, in this au I imagine there are a lot of differences but ill probably draw snippets of it later like for one All Might saves the students at the USJ but hurts himself and ends up in the hospital and surprise surprise Izukus there volunteering as a nurse (to get experience yk) and he ends up caring for Yagi-san and blabbers about heroes this and All Might that, unaware of who exactly he is talking to. I also like to imagine that Kota instead of being sent to live with his aunt, they think heroics are too dangerous and send him away to the orphanage for 'his own safety' and he become little brother to Izuku and Shinsou and slowly also becomes a hero plush fanatic ect 

The real meat of the story begins when everyones all graduated and grown up and debuted as heroes and Class 1a is asked to attend a hero con where they answer questions and give out merch to start a fan base and Izuku, Shinsou, and Kota are living their best lives in the crowd buying everything ‘woah look Hito-chan its Red Riot or woah is that Uravity yk they really captured her muscles in this figurine i boug- not that i was ogling her muscles no stop laughing at me Hi- OH MY GOD oooh cool its Creati and shes even using her cool quirk’ Meanwhile Katsuki is in his own personal hell at this convention and when overhearing a conversation, is flabbergasted his his classmates mention that this so called cute MEGA DORKY HERO FANATIC LOSER is going to all their stands and buying all their merch and complimenting them, but dares to IGNORE THE MIGHTY GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GOD DYNAMIGHT'S MERCH?? I mean damn he may not like this aspect of heroism but he didnt sit through over 10+ hours of trying merch meeting discussing whether he wants ebony black or midnight black to be he color of his figure to be ignored. He didnt get woken up at 3am in the morning by his manger for his opinion on whether he wants to sell a 32 ounce or a 40 ounce hydroflask for this shit. So obviously he has to go and confront the nerd and he almost shits his pants when he realizes this mega loser dweeb is fucking DEKU!

Katsuki talks with him and eventually asks why he doesnt want to buy any of his stuff and Izuku ends up admitting that this merch, all this stuff is basically his therapy, when he sees these dolls he is filled with hope that he future is gonna get bad and he wont be haunted of the past and katsuki is the antithesis of that. Getting a Dynamight figure will just remind him of the past he wants to forget and while he loves Kacchan and believes in him and truly does believe he is destined for great things, he needs to let him go. Please Kacchan, let me let you go...

FUCK YOU DEKU! take my phone number and since you keep associating me with bad memories, well then lets go make new BETTER memories shitty nerd. And suddenly Izuku is hanging out with Kacchan again and Katsuki is giving it his 110% until he slowly but surely builds up Izuku's Dynamight collection.

The End lmao (hopefully i explained it well and you get the premise)

Bonus: RING RING RING "Hey Half and Half remember when you burned that Endeavor keychain... wanna help me burn down some other merch?"

[bloodxhound]

REYNOLDS.​

Her funeral had been a small one. At least that was what Calum remembers from that period of time- his memories of that day are foggy although that can also extend to the months that followed. He’s just glad to be out of those months- time heals all wounds, they say and maybe he is being desperate, but he sincerely hopes that will be true for Erza. Erza who now shares one of the worst commonalities with their father: an absentee mother.  

He hasn’t talked about it with them. About their mother, yes, but not about the months that followed, and especially not about the incident that ( fortunately ) snapped Calum back into reality. It’ll have to happen sooner or later, Calum knows, but the farther away he drifts from that time, the more difficult bringing it up gets. Where is he even supposed to begin? Does Erza even want to talk about it? And what is Calum even supposed to say?

Maybe he’ll do it when her death anniversary comes around, which is thankfully not today. 

He’s on his lunch break when he decides to drop by her grave. She wouldn’t want this, he knows, wouldn’t want him visiting her when there are people who need him more. But for today, he’s being SELFISH and even brings along a cup of homemade jello for her to eat. Hopefully, she’ll take it as a compromise.

But when he reaches her grave ( that lonely spot- it’s not fair, she had so much ahead of her, was so full of life, but this is what she has been reduced ), he realizes he won’t be alone for this time- someone else is here, with flowers.

Someone else, being, wait he recognizes that jacket-

“Detective?” He blinks, unsure how to approach; it seems like Detective Barlowe was having a private moment with…Mana? There can’t any other reason- why else would Detective Barlowe be holding a bouquet with her favorite flowers by her grave. No one visits a grave on a whim, after all. 

He can’t remember ever seeing the two of them together- it’s strange, really. The farther from her death he gets, the more he seems to learn about her. 

He averts his gaze as the grip around the jello cup tightens. “Um…I’m sorry. I must be interrupting something; I just wanted to, uh-“ The words fall away. He bites the inside of his cheek- there aren’t any words he can give here, can he? He approaches the grave and kneeling down, sets the jello cup down.

“I thought…I thought she would be hungry so I made her favorite.”

        Grief has lowered his guard, enough for him to dismiss the figure that draws near on the periphery of his vision. Though his voice lowers as consequence of the encroaching footsteps, the gush of words doesn’t cease, like a river finally broken free of the dam that was to hold it. And why stop now? To this other visitor, he will be no more than a stranger, talking to a slab of stone, inscribed with an unheard-of name. 

          His assumption doesn’t survive long, crushed underneath the weight of his title, piled onto him by a voice he has hoped to not ever hear in this place. Discomfort creeps along his spine, coiling like a snake in his gut. Blanching at the intrusion, he turns his head, stern gaze flicking towards its source.  “Shouldn’t you be at work.”  He doesn’t mean to be unkind, recognizes Reynolds is undeserving of churlish remarks, but hound that he is knows no better than to raise his hackles and growl when caught in such a vulnerable state. With a sigh, he reins himself in, curbing his ill-mannered demeanor before it grows teeth.  “No, it’s me who’s sorry. S’pose we had the same idea.”  To trade their breakrooms for this graveyard, to flee the presence of co-workers in favor of silence. It’s a bit ironic, really, and just his luck: this squandered opportunity to speak his farewell without someone else present. Like a wounded animal dragging itself inside a cave, he has come here to howl his lament on his lonesome, unexpecting company.

          "Coconut flavor,”  he states simply with a nod as he rises to his full height, divulging the shared burden of familiarity.  “If there’s an afterlife, I hope she gets to feast on all the things she wasn’t able to before.”  A mirthless chuckle sounds, ringing hollow inside his chest.  “No offense to your jello cups. I know she loved ‘em.”  He shuffles on his feet; for once unsure on how to proceed. In place of explanations, silence ensues, filled with observations. There’s not a speck of dust or dirt, no wilted flowers — Mana’s grave is in a meticulous state. It’s a testament to the fact that, even in death, she is well and truly loved. At least he can draw some comfort from that. Not only comfort, but also the will to be a little more forthright.  “I don’t know if she ever mentioned me, but she talked ‘bout you at times. She seemed at peace with you. That’s all I ever wanted for her.”

[ultranos]

Hey Nos, I’m just curious if you have more autistic Azula headcanons? I remember there being something about mechanical stick figures but I’m pretty sure I’m remembering it wrong.

I did have a hc based on mechanical figures! Basically, that Azula's got a fixation on clockwork mechanisms and mechanical motion, and is absolutely fascinated as a child (and a teen and maybe even an adult) by how precision craftwork can create such things that look almost alive.

And since she's a curious kid with a fixation, when she got gifts of little clockwork soldiers, she'd inevitably take them apart to see how they worked. See the gears turning against each other, the springs compressing and expanding, the tiny bars and pistons moving on the inside.

The thing is, most people when they see her with her fingers coated in machine grease and parts strewn about would think she's destroying her toys. They don't realize that obviously she's also learning how to put them back together, even better than before. When they hear her express disappointment or frustration at a very pretty toy, they don't understand that what Azula's upset about is that the toy might be pretty on the outside, but inside is full of cheap and ill-made parts. Because she knows what it should look like.

Azula likes it because it makes sense. It follows rules. Inputs and outputs. There's a logic that is easy for her to understand. (Unlike some most people...) At some point, she even started doodling out her own designs of things, none of them related to the war. She hid them, of course, because she was told her interest wasn't "proper" for a princess and only tolerated if she "put her frivolity to use" for the Fire Nation's benefit. (Really, she should have destroyed them, but she just...couldn't.)

(Maybe years later, after the war, after Azula's run or gone to ground or disappeared, someone finds those old sketches. Zuko isn't quite sure what he's looking at, but he's not about to take chances with technical things he doesn't understand found in Azula's old room, so he goes to the smartest person he knows.

Sokka looks at the design drawings Zuko hands him. Tiny roaring dragons with flapping wings and digging badgermoles with gemstone eyes. A howling polarbear-dog and a walking sky bison. Each with little notes and math off to the side on how to make it work.

"Where did you find this?"

"Hidden in my sister's room," Zuko admits. "I can't make sense of it. What was she even planning on doing with this stuff?"

Sokka goes very quiet.

"Zuko," he finally says, voice faint in disbelief, "they're toys. Your sister was designing children's toys.")

[mimicofmodes]

“The Ladies Waldegrave” by Joshua Reynolds, 1780 (NGS NG2171)

I’ve complained before about two very big pet peeves of mine - corset stuff and Regency women being dressed in 1770s-1780s clothes - but one that may dwarf them because of how frequently it comes up in historical and fantasy fiction is the oppression of embroidery.

That’s probably putting it a bit too strongly. It’s more like ... the annoyance of embroidery. Every character worth reading about knows instinctively that sewing is a) boring, b) difficult, c) mindless, and d) pointless. The author doesn’t have to say anything more than “Belinda threw down her needlework and looked out the window, sighing,” to signal that this is an independent woman whose values align with the modern reader, who’s probably not really understood by her mother or mother figure, and who probably will find an extraordinary man to “match” her rather than settling for someone ordinary. To look at an example from fantasy, GRRM uses embroidery in the very beginning of A Game of Thrones to show that the Stark sister who dislikes it is sympathetic and interesting, while the Stark sister who is competent at it is boring and conventional and obviously not deserving of a PoV (until later books, when her attention gets turned to higher matters); further into the book, of course, the pro-needlework sister proves to be weak-willed and naïve.

Rozsika Parker, in the groundbreaking 1996 work The Subversive Stitch, noted that “embroidery has become indelibly associated with stereotypes of femininity,” which is the core of the issue. "Instead embroidery and a stereotype of femininity have become collapsed into one another, characterised as mindless, decorative and delicate; like the icing on the cake, good to look at, adding taste and status, but devoid of significant content.” 

Parker also points out that the stereotype isn’t just one that was invented in the present day by feminists who hated the idea of being forced to do a certain craft. “The association between women and embroidery, craft and femininity, has meant that writers concerned with the status of women have often turned their attention towards this tangled, puzzling relationship. Feminists who have scorned embroidery tend to blame it for whatever constraint on women's lives they are committed to combat. Thus, for example, eighteenth-century critical commentators held embroidery responsible for the ill health which was claimed as evidence of women's natural weakness and inferiority.”

There are two basic problems I have with the trope, beyond the issue of it being incredibly cliché:

First: needlework was not just busywork

A big part of what drives the stereotype is the impression that what women were embroidering was either a sampler:

sampler embroidered by Jane Wilson, 14, in 1791 (MMA 2010.47)

or a picture:

unfinished embroidery of David and Abigail, British, 1640s-50s (MMA 64.101.1325)

That is, something meant to hang on the wall for no real purpose.

These are forms of schoolwork, basically. Samplers were made by young girls up to their early teens, and needlework pictures were usually something done while at school or under a governess as a showpiece of what was being learned - not just the stitching itself, but also often watercolors (which could be worked into the design), artistic sensibility, and the literature, history, or art that might be alluded to. And many needlework pictures made in schools were also done as mourning pieces, sometimes blank, for future use, and sometimes to commemorate a recent death in the family. A lot of them are awkward, clearly just done to pass the class, but others are really artwork.

Many schools for middle- and upper-class girls taught the making of these objects (and other “ornamental” subjects) alongside a more rigorous curriculum - geography, Latin, chemistry, etc. At some, sewing was also always accompanied by serious reading and discussion. (And it would often be done while someone read aloud or made conversation later in life, too.)

Once done with their education, women generally didn’t bother with purely decorative work. Some things that fabric could be embroidered for included:

Jackets 

Bed coverings and bedcurtains

Collars and undersleeves 

Pelerines 

Neck handkerchiefs and sleeve ruffles 

Screens

Upholstery

Handkerchiefs

Purses, wallets, and reticules

Boxes

Book covers

Plus other articles of clothing like waistcoats, caps, slippers, gown hems, chemises, etc. Women’s magazines of the nineteenth century often gave patterns and alphabets for personal use.

(Not to mention late nineteenth century female artists who worked in embroidery, but that’s something else.)

You could purchase all of these pre-embroidered, but many, many women chose to do it themselves. There are a number of reasons why: maybe they wanted something to do, maybe they felt like they should be doing needlework for moral/gender reasons, maybe they couldn’t afford to buy anything - and maybe they enjoyed it or wanted to give something they made to a person they loved. That firescreen above was embroidered by Marie Antoinette, someone who had any number of other activities to choose from. It’s no different than people today who like to knit their own hats and gloves or bake their own bread, except that it was way more mainstream.

embroidery patterns from Ackermann’s Repository in 1827 - they could be used on dresses, collars, handkerchiefs, etc.

Second: needlework wasn’t the only “useless” thing women were expected to do

Ignoring the bulk of point one for now and the value of embroidery - I mentioned “ornamental subjects” above. As many people know, young women of the upper and middle classes were expected to be “accomplished” in order to be seen as marriageable. This could include skills like embroidery, drawing, painting, singing, playing the piano (as well as other instruments, like the harp or the mandolin), speaking French (if not also Italian and/or German), as well as broader knowledge and abilities like being well-versed in music, literature, and poetry, dancing and walking gracefully, writing good letters in an elegant hand, and being able to read out loud expressively and smoothly.

This wasn’t a checklist. As the famous discussion in Pride and Prejudice shows, individuals could have different views on what actually made a woman accomplished:

“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite.”

“It is amazing to me,” said Bingley, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”

“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?”

“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young lady spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”

“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”

“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Bingley.

“Then,” observed Elizabeth, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”

“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”

“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

Mr. Bingley feels that a woman is accomplished if she has the ability to do a number of different arts and crafts. Miss Bingley feels (or says she feels) that it goes beyond specific skills and into branches of artistic attainment, plus broader personal qualities that could be imparted by well-bred governesses or mothers. And Mr. Darcy, of course, agrees with that but adds an academic angle as well.

But what ties all of these accomplishments together is their lack of value on the labor market. A woman could earn a living with any one accomplishment, if she worked hard enough at it to become a professional, but young ladies weren’t supposed to be professional-level good because they by definition weren’t going to earn a living. All together, they trained a woman for the social and domestic role of a married woman of the upper middle or upper class, or, if she couldn’t get married, a governess or teacher who would share her accomplishments with the next generation.

(To be fair, almost none of the trappings of an upper-middle/upper class male education had anything to do with the kind of career training that college frequently is today, either. Men were educated to know the cultural touchpoints of their class and fit in with their peers.)

There are reasons that an individual person/character might specifically object to embroidery, but it was far from the only “useless” thing that an unconventional heroine would be required to do against her inclination by her conventional mother/grandmother/aunt/chaperone. Embroidery stands out to modern audiences because most of the other accomplishments are now valued as gender-neutral arts and skills.

“The Embroidery Frame”, by Mathilde Weil, ca. 1900 (LOC 98501309)

So, some thoughts for writers of historical fiction (or fantasy that’s supposed to be just like the 19th/18th/17th/etc century):

- If your heroine doesn’t like embroidery, she probably doesn’t like a number of other things she’s expected to do. Don’t pull out embroidery as either more expected or more onerous than them. Does she hate to sit still? I’d imagine she also dislikes drawing and practicing the piano. Would she prefer to do academic subjects? She probably also resents learning French instead of Latin, and music and dancing. Does she hate enforced femininity? Then she’d most likely have a problem with all of the accomplishments.

- If your heroine just and specifically doesn’t like embroidery, try to show in the narrative that that’s not because it’s objectively bad, and only able to be liked by the boring. Have another sympathetic character do it while talking to the heroine. Note that the hero carries a flame-stitched wallet that’s his sister’s work. Emphasize the heroine’s emotional connection to her deceased or absent mother through her affection for clothing or upholstery that her mother embroidered - or through a mourning picture commemorating her. There are all kinds of things you can do to show that it’s a personal preference rather than a stupid craft that doesn’t take talent and skill!

mourning picture for Daniel Goodman, probably embroidered by a Miss Goodman, 1803 (MMA 56.66)

[calpalirwin]

I Think I Like You

Summary: Bucky falls for his best friend’s sister

A/N: I told y’all I wasn’t ready to let them go yet

Word Count: 5k

And away, and away we go!

__

1936

The ache in my knuckles was starting to occupy more and more of my attention as I followed Steve into the apartment complex. “So, this is home, huh?” I asked, flexing out my hands.

“Something like that,” he quipped, digging around in his pocket to produce a key, before letting us into one of the apartments.

I was about to ask what he meant by that, but stepping into the home quickly answered the question for me. There was something… acutely feminine about the place. It was tidy, much tidier than my own apartment down the block. Magazines were neatly stacked on the coffee table. In the kitchen, the counters were wiped down. And on the dining table, a vase of flowers. All subtle signs of the home containing a woman’s touch. “Oh?” I said suggestively, taking a seat on the couch.

Steve just rolled his eyes, as he sat down next to me, sighing deeply as he sunk back in the soft cushions. I looked over at him with a smirk. Alright, if he wanted to keep his secrets, he could, I decided. I also wondered if I looked half as bad as he did. His lip was split, and he was already beginning to bruise along the right side of his face. I looked down at my own hands, flexing them again. No doubt they’d bruise too. But that was about the extent of my own injuries compared to my friend.

The door clicked open behind us, and both of us swiveled our heads to look at the woman walking in, a bag of groceries in her hand, and a bag slung over her shoulder with papers all but spilling out of it. She was smartly dressed in a crisp blouse tucked into a black skirt that hugged her small frame tightly. She toed off her heels, blonde curls falling to obscure her face from my view. She didn’t seem to acknowledge my presence as she walked over to the couch, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek, her face pinching into a frown when he winced. “Oh, Steven, what did you do now?” she asked, moving to set the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, her tone suggesting that she was used to seeing the man this way. She didn’t appear to care for an answer either, as she turned out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway, returning a few moments later with a small first-aid kit. Only then did she acknowledge my presence, blue eyes sweeping over me with slight disdain. “Bringing your fights home now, huh?” she asked, tongue clicking in her cheek, as she grabbed his face, examining the damage carefully.

“We were on the same side,” he replied bluntly, sitting still for her while she cleaned up his face.

Her gaze flickered back to me, her tongue clicking again. “For being on the same side, it looks like he got out better than you did.”

“He’s a better fighter,” Steve explained with a shrug.

“And who is he exactly?”

“James Barnes, ma’am,” I told her politely. “Pleased to meet you. Wasn’t aware Steve here had a lady.”

Steve gave a bark of a scoff, “She’s not a lady.”

Her own eyes rolled. “What he meant to say was that I’m his sister. And I’m no ma’am either. It’s ‘miss,’ Mr. Barnes.”

“My apologies, miss.” I bit back my smirk. Not Steve’s lady, and not a ma’am only worked more in my favor. “And would you happen to have a name to accompany your title?”

“That would depend on who’s asking.”

“That would be me.”

“Then, that information would be classified, James.”

I chuckled, definitely toeing a fine line of getting in way over my head, and not caring the slightest bit. “Well, then, I suppose it’s only polite to ask if you prefer ‘sweetheart’ or ‘doll’ then.”

“From you? I’d prefer neither.” She flashed me a sweet smile, releasing Steve’s face, and snapping the first-aid kit shut. Then, she was on her feet, going back into the kitchen, and returning with two ice packs. “Might wanna ice your face and hands there, sluggers,” she said, tossing one to Steve, and the other to me. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister, let alone one that was a nurse, and we’ve been friends for how long now?” I questioned Steve, letting the ice pack rest across my knuckles.

“2 years. And she’s not a nurse. Just a nuisance,” he quipped, leaning his head back and placing his ice pack against his face.

“You’re the one who comes in here all bloody and bruised. So who’s the real nuisance here, dear brother?” she retorted.

“That would still be you, by a long shot. I fight bullies. You just like to fight.”

“No, I command respect. Feeble-minded men only view that as liking to fight. And you?” she asked, turning her attention to me. “Steve fights bullies. I fight for respect. What do you fight for, Mr. Barnes?”

“I fight to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, how noble,” she said, clearly not impressed with my answer.

“And half a lie,” Steve snorted. “Go on, Buck. Tell her what you do at school.”

“Buck?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“A nickname,” I brushed past. “And I’m on the wrestling team. So, sure, one could make the argument that I have fighting in my DNA. But as I’ve said, I use the advantage I have in fighting to protect those I care about.”

“Mmm, well maybe next time care a little quicker about my brother, yes?”

“With all due respect, miss, your brother has a tendency of getting himself into fights before I’m around to help get him out of them.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true… Steve, do me a favor, and put up those groceries would you?”

He pulled the ice pack off his face to squint over at her. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of you being home if you’re not going to be useful?”

He grumbled, but got to his feet to do as she asked anyway. “So, how’s Mother?” he asked her.

“Still dying,” was the answer. “And still asking why you don’t visit.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to visit,” he started.

His sister held up her hand, cutting him off, “I know. Watching her die isn’t exactly pleasant. And she knows you’re busy with school, and stopping by her to help me. Nobody blames you, Steve. But she’s getting worse, so I’d make time if you can. Sooner rather than later. But not too soon. Wait until your face heals a bit. James, has my brother offered you anything to eat or drink? Or is he as bad a host as he is a fighter?”

“We were barely home a minute before you came bursting in, and started chastising us,” he told her.

She ignored his excuse. “James, can I get you anything? A glass of water?”

“A glass of water would be lovely, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“So, safe to assume you’re a friend of Steve’s from college,” she continued to make conversation with me as she filled a glass with water, then came to join me on the couch while Steve finished with the groceries. “Do you prefer to be called James? Or whatever it was he called you? Buck?”

“James. Buck. Bucky,” I shrugged. “Either works. I’m not that picky.”

“Why Buck?”

“Middle name’s Buchanan.”

“Oh, a middle name after a president, just like Steve.”

“Y/N,” Steve said in a warning. “Don’t you have studying to do?”

“Don’t you have a fight to get into?”

“Y/N?” I asked with a slight smile, liking how her name sounded on my tongue.

She glowered at Steve, not liking that he’d given her the one edge she had over me. “Yes,” she said begrudgingly.

“Pretty.”

Over the course of my afternoon spent in the apartment, I learned a great deal about the girl with the pretty name. For one, she wasn’t just Steve’s sister, but actually his twin, and she hated how adamant he was about the fact that he was still technically older. And the chip in her shoulder was just as justified as the one in her brother’s. They had a rough go of it after their father had passed a few years prior, and with the economic situation being what it was, and their mother falling ill herself it was crazy to me that they still had their education as a priority. But as someone who valued education myself, it was a trait I greatly admired.

The longer the afternoon dragged on, the more I liked her, and the more she seemed to warm up to me. Although I was uncertain if she was warming up to me because she was as equally infatuated with me as I was with her, or if it was strictly a means of stirring annoyance in her brother. Either way, I had her attention, and I wasn’t complaining.

And when the evening did draw to a close, while I wasn’t brave enough to ask her out directly, I was brave enough to suggest my interest in her.

“Bucky, can I ask something of you?” she asked, pulling the front door shut behind her to allow for a brief moment of privacy between us.

“Of course,” I asked, trying not to take too much glee in how she said my name.

“Well, I suppose it’s not really a question. But more of a request to take what I said about caring about my brother quicker seriously. He has a strong tendency, as I’m sure you’ve witnessed, of doing what he thinks is right, without stopping to think about the consequences. And he doesn’t have the… erm…” heat colored her cheeks as she fought to find the right words, “physique like you do to defend himself, despite his best intentions. So if you could be a bit quicker with that ‘I protect those I care about’ bit you were mentioning earlier, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Did she just admit she found me attractive? “That would require me to be around your brother a lot more, you know that, right?”

“It’s a good thing you two are friends then, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I meant that it would mean I would probably be around more if I were to do that. Which I can do, no problem. Steve’s a great friend. But I would hate for my presence to ever make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would your presence make me feel uncomfortable?”

“Well, you didn’t seem all that keen on me. And if I’m being honest, I still can’t really figure out what your opinion of me is. I’m hoping it’s favorable.”

“In my defense, I came home to find my brother with a bloody face, and you with bruised knuckles. All the same, I do apologize if my original assumption made me come across as cold. Because it’s become clear to me that my brother holds you in a high regard as his friend, and I’ve never known Steve to be a bad judge of character.”

“Well, if being around Steve more for the sake of getting him out of fights quicker means I can see more of you, consider your request granted. G’night, Y/N.”

“G’night, Bucky.”

~~~

“So my sister, huh?” Steve asked when I saw him a few days later.

“What about her?” I asked, playing dumb.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

I sighed, opting for honesty rather than something that would be an obvious lie. “Do I find her to be beautiful and charming? Yes. But would I go so far as to say I’m smitten with her? We barely know each other.”

“But you want to know her?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” was all he said.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’re my best friend, and she’s your sister.”

“You’re both adults. And it’s Y/N. She’d go out with you just to spite me if I was stupid enough to warn her away from you. Which I have no reason to do anyway.”

“So if I did want to ask her out, I’d have your blessing?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, Buck. I’m simply saying I wouldn’t be mad about it. But if you do ask her out, which I don’t recommend doing anytime soon because she has a lot on her plate as is, she likes roses and dancing.

~~~

I was there when their mother passed away a few months later. I sat with them in the kitchen while they tearfully planned a funeral, offering to make the necessary phone calls that left their own words choked and stuck. And I stood between them when they buried her, one hand resting firmly on Steve’s shoulder, the other hanging limply at my side, fingers begging to stretch out and pull her hand into mine. 

When Steve excused himself to talk with the minister, Y/N sighed deeply next to me. “He’s all I got left,” she murmured with sad finality. “I mean, we always used to joke that it was just me and him. And I knew this would happen eventually. But… I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready for Steve to be the only family I have left.”

“He’s not,” I told her. “You have me, too.”

She blinked up at me. “I do?”

Heat colored my cheeks, and I rubbed at hand at the back of my neck as my nerves kicked in. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m friends with Steve. I have no interest in ending that friendship. So you can count on me to be around if that’s something you want to count on.”

“Steve, yes. So a relationship with each other via proxy? Seems like quite the investment on your end.”

“Well, I’d hardly say our relationship with each other is strictly via proxy of your brother. I like to think we’ve become at least friendly with each other, if not friends directly.”

“And is that what you would like? A friendship?”

I hesitated. There was no way of answering her without condemning myself one way or another. If I said yes, then that’s all I would ever be to her. But if I answered no, I risked losing her before I had her. Either by her thinking I was insulting her by not wanting a friendship, or scaring her off if she interpreted what I said as being too forward too soon. “I’ve told you that I protect those I care about. Which means if you need me, for anything, I’ll be there.”

“And do you care for me simply because I’m your friend’s sister? Or do you care for me because you genuinely care for me?”

“You’re a smart girl, Y/N. Surely you can answer that for yourself.”

~~~

1937

“Steve,” I groaned as he dragged me through the streets of Brooklyn towards his place with a grin on his face. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything for my birthday.”

“I know. And that’s what I told Y/N, but you know she doesn’t listen to me.”

I groaned louder. “What did she do?”

“It’s just cake,” he promised. “So even by Y/N’s terms, this is very tame. But, you have to act surprised because she’ll kill me if she knows I told you.”

“Alright, alright,” I relented with a laugh.

“Close your eyes,” he said as we bounded up the stairs to the apartment.

“Is that part necessary?” I asked, closing my eyes anyway and letting him push me inside.

“Surprise!” both him and Y/N yelled, and I opened my eyes to see a small banner hanging up on the wall with the words “Happy Birthday,” sprawled across it, and a small cake waiting on the kitchen table. “We know it’s not much,” she went on, “but we wanted to do something.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully. “But you didn’t have to.”

“I know we didn’t have to. But we wanted to. Turning twenty is something special, Bucky.”

“Well again, thank you,” I told her as I took a seat at the table, noticing a small parcel wrapped neatly. “What’s this?”

Her eyes went wide. “That,” she said, snatching it off the table, and hiding it behind her back, “is for later.”

This time, it was Steve who groaned. “Y/N, we agreed on no presents. Now I look like an ass.”

“This is what makes you look like an ass?” she questioned.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned humorlessly. “You’re hilarious.”

“Okay, this you really didn’t have to do,” I told her with a chuckle.

“Bucky? Shut up, and make a wish.” With that, she grabbed a small lighter, lighting the candles on the cake.

While she and Steve sang “Happy Birthday” I thought about what wish I wanted to make, no matter how silly the notion seemed. But my mind couldn’t think of anything to wish for. I already had everything I wanted. So ultimately, I decided to wish for things to stay the same as I blew out the candles with a huff of breath.

“Okay,” she said, setting the small parcel in front of me, after we’d eaten the cake and Steve excused himself. “Now, you can have this.”

Carefully I tore at the paper, revealing a hardcover book, the words “The Hobbit” etched across the front cover. “Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers across the cover.

“The lady at the bookstore said it was popular. But if you end up not liking it… Well, I kept the receipt, so we can return it for something you would like,” she offered as explanation, a soft embarrassed mumble

We. “No,” I said quickly. “No, I love it. This is great, thank you,” I smiled at her.

“Happy Birthday, Bucky,” she smiled back. “And uh, if you don’t mind, when you’re finished with it, I’d like to borrow it. Didn’t have enough to buy two copies.”

“Or,” I suggested, a thought coming to me, “we could read it together.”

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. “How would we do that exactly?”

“I could read it to you. We could… make an afternoon of it. Or a few afternoons of it.”

“That sounds suspiciously like you’re proposing a date.”

“And if I was?”

“I think I’d like that.”

I grinned. “How’s Saturday, then?”

~~~

“This is going to sound stupid,” Y/N interjected when I paused in my reading.

“What’s going to sound stupid?” I asked, looking at her over the top of the book. She looked cute, resting on her stomach, her elbows propped up as she cradled her chin in her hands. Her hair blew softly with the light spring breeze, and her eyes held a dreamy look to them. Okay, she looked way more than just cute. 

“I like the way you read,” she said. “Your voice… it’s nice in general. But there’s a certain flow to how you read. Your voice does this thing where it rises and falls with what you’re reading. It’s… animated. Very engaging.”

“Well, I can easily say that’s the first time someone ever complimented my voice,” I said with a chuckle.

Her cheeks turned pink. “I told you it was going to sound stupid.”

I tucked a scrap of paper in the book, marking our spot before setting it aside. “It’s not stupid. It’s a nice compliment. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes flickered from me to the book. “Are we done for the day?”

“No, I can keep reading if you want me to,” I said, picking up the book and opening it.

She smiled up at me, and then, in a move I wasn’t expecting, she rolled over onto her back and then shifted her body perpendicular to mine, resting her head on my outstretched leg. I stiffened at the sudden intimacy of the contact. “Is this okay?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” I choked out with a cough, forcing myself to relax. “Yeah, it’s, uh, fine.”

She gave a small giggle. “You know, you’re pretty cute when you get shy, Bucky.”

“You’re pretty cute all of the time,” I mumbled back.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said you’re pretty cute all of the time,” I said again, this time without mumbling, but glad I had the book in my hand to block my face from her view.

Her hand gently pulled mine down, the book closing once more. “Bucky, if I ask you something, do you promise to be honest with me?”

“Course,” I nodded.

“Do you like me? Romantically that is.”

I swallowed thickly, nodding. “And if you want the whole truth, it’s the ‘I’m falling in love with you’ kind of like. And that terrifies me.”

“Why does that terrify you?”

“Because it means I have more to lose.”

She let out a soft “oh,” as she pushed herself to sit upwards, a timid hand stroking up the length of my arm. “You’ll never lose me, Bucky.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back. I shifted to lean towards her, my hands going to cradle her face. And then my lips were on hers, and it was sweet and powerful. And my thumbs were brushing along her cheek bones as the rest of my fingers bunched up in her hair. And her own hands were looping around my neck, her fingers tugging lightly at my hair. The air came rushing out of my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe but I didn’t dare break the kiss, savoring every sensation. 

There was a sharp intake of air and I wasn’t sure which one of us had done it, because our lips stayed locked, and I had to drop one of my hands to brace myself as the kiss grew hungry and she moved in closer, practically on top of me. I moved the hand that was still holding her face to wrap tightly around her back, needing her more than I’d ever needed anybody else before.

~~~

1939

“Whoa, slow down there, doll,” I chuckled, pulling the glass away from her lips.

“But it tastes like juice!” she told me, her eyes big with excitement.

“I know, but those drinks have a lot more alcohol in them. And if I bring you home drunk, Steve will kill me.”

“He can try,” she scoffed, grabbing the glass from me and taking another big drink. “And neither one of you can get mad at me drinking, because you both do it too,” she half sang.

“Again, your drinks have a lot more alcohol in them than our drinks do. And for another, I’m a lot bigger than you. My body can handle more.”

She set the glass down, scowling over the rim at me. “You’re no fun.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t have your drink, doll. I’m just asking you to slow down.”

“Well, can you order me another one? This one’s almost empty.”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her forehead before going back over to the bar to get us each another drink. I could feel the eyes of other girls on me as I drummed my fingers across the tabletop of the bar while I waited, but they didn’t bother me. I already had the girl I wanted staring at me like they did, and she did a whole lot more than just stare. When I turned with the drinks, I saw the way other guys in the bar were looking at Y/N back in the booth. Now, that made my skin prickle. So I squared my shoulders and slid in next to her placing a heated and heavy kiss on her cheek, smirking in triumphant as the looks dropped. “A-are you growling?” I asked with another chuckle, becoming aware of the low rumble in her throat.

“I hate the way they stare at you,” she whispered with disdain.

“Jealous?” I teased lightheartedly.

She scoffed into her drink. “Me? Jealous? Please…”

“Good. Because if anyone should be jealous, it’s me. You have the attention of every man in this bar.”

She scoffed more. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“You,” I said, kissing her cheek again. “Are the most beautiful girl in here, and everyone knows it. And I’m the lucky son of a gun that gets to take you home.”

Her eyes went wide, and a grin broke out across her face. “Take me home, Bucky.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

I held her steady as I let her into my apartment, and she blinked in her surroundings. “This isn’t… Where are we?”

“We’re at my place. Steve would kill me if I brought you home like this.”

“I-” her face flushed. “Bucky, I’ve never…”

“We’re not,” I said softly. “I’m going to help you into bed, and then sleep on the couch.”

“Oh.” It was a simple utterance both of understanding and… was that disappointment that nothing would come of the night besides her safely sleeping her intoxicated state away?

I gave her one of my shirts to sleep in, turning my back to give her privacy, before helping her into bed. “G’night, doll,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“Wait,” she whispered, her hand reaching out to grab me by my shirt. “Can you stay?”

I looked down at her, the blanket pulled up tightly around her. My bed had never looked more inviting. And what was the harm in sleeping? I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I can stay.” I stepped out of my pants before joining her on the bed, but staying on top of the covers. “G’night, doll,” I whispered, clicking off the light.

“You don’t want to marry me, do you?” she asked me, her voice filled with sorrow.

“What gave you that idea?”

“You can’t even share the covers with me!” was the wailed explanation of despair.

“I-” I sputtered, shocked at whatever had caused this outburst. “C’mere,” I coaxed, lifting up my arm for her to curl into me. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

“So you want me?”

“Of course I want you, doll.”

“Then how come you haven’t asked me to marry you?”

“I- You’re the most independent woman I know. I didn’t know you wanted to become a wife.”

“I don’t want to become a wife. I want to become your wife.”

“You’re gonna need to give me time to buy a ring.”

“But you’ll ask?”

“Until I’m blue in the face,” I promised.

“And we can have a house, and kids? Not an obnoxiously big house, but not a tiny one either.”

“We can have a medium-sized house, and fill it with as many kids as you want. And you can teach, and Steve and I can open up a mechanic shop. And every night,” I said, shifting to get under the blankets and pull her closer, “we can fall asleep just like this.”

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” she breathed in content.

“I love you too, Y/N Y/M/N Rogers.”

“It’s Rogers-Barnes.”

~~~

1943

“Why do you keep fiddling with your pockets?” Y/N asked as we walked through Central Park, one of her hands holding mine, the other clutched holding a picnic basket with the flowers I’d bought her poking out the top.

“I’m not,” I lied, feeling the small box drop as I pulled my hand out of my pocket and waved it in her face. “See?”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re plotting something.”

“If by plotting, you mean enjoying a nice picnic with you, then ya got me. And it’s hardly plotting if you already knew.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, as we came to a stop underneath a large tree by the lake’s edge. “And what are we reading today?” she asked as I busied myself with laying out the blanket for us.

“Steinbeck.”

“Oh, I love him,” she marveled, kneeling on the blanket and pulling out our lunch.

“I know you do.”

With her head resting in my lap, and between bites of sandwich, I read from the small paperback novel. Our lazy Saturday tradition that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I only stopped reading when I heard the soft sigh as she started to doze off like she usually did. “You still with me?” I asked with a small laugh, tracing her cheek with one of my thumbs.

“Mhm,” she murmured like she always did, keeping her eyes closed. “Just thinking.”

I frowned. Her normal answer was “Keep reading.” “What are you thinking about?”

“How much I’m gonna miss this when you’re gone. How much I’m gonna miss you.”

My heart sank as I thought about the draft papers sitting on my kitchen table. “It’s just basic training. Couple weeks and I’ll be back. And I’ll only be in Jersey.”

“Ugh… Jersey…” She opened her eyes to roll them.

“I’ll be so bad at being a soldier, my sergeant will yell at me and ship me back home to you,” I laughed.

“You will do no such thing. You’ll do what you have to at camp, and then you’ll come home to me,” she told me, sitting up. “And then…” Her voice broke off, not wanting to finish the rest. After camp came Europe. And that was more than either of us were willing to think about. Camp. Camp was first. Camp had clear dates we could work with. 3 measly months. And what came after didn’t matter.

“And then,” I said, slowly pulling the box out of my pocket.

“No!” she interrupted, sternly. “James Buchanan Barnes, if you say one damned word about Europe, I will drown you in the lake,” came the threat.

“Y/N!” I laughed. “Can I tell you what happens after I get back from camp, or not?”

“Bucky…” she whined.

“Please? I really think you’re gonna like it.”

“What could I possibly like about what you coming back from camp means?”

“Because it means you’ll be my wife,” I told her, presenting her the box, snapping the top open to reveal a small gold band. “Marry me, doll.”

__

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