#lorna's writing

[chaossmagic]

Number 29 for the types of otp kisses <3333

29. A is crying. B kisses their tears away.

Bucky heard the sniffles before he felt the coolness of the empty space next to him, the rumpled blankets indicating that Steve wasn't lying beside him anymore. He rolled over to check the ancient clock on the nightstand in the gloom, his back aching in protest; it was three o'clock in the morning, and he was due at work again in just over four hours. But at that moment, he didn't particularly care.

Because there, on the fire escape, a moonlit silhouette of sharp angles and birdlike bones, desperately trying not to make too much noise, was Steve, his shoulders shaking with his restraint as tears splashed freely down his face - and Bucky felt his heart crack a little, just off-centre, like pressing on a bruise that had Steve mourning his mother's death written all over it. Like Steve's grief overran and spilled over in to his own.

He immediately got out of bed, careful not to be too loud and risk startling Steve, pulling one of their blankets off the bed with him - an emerald green woollen one, knitted by his own mother as a housewarming gift - and padded over to where Steve was hunched in the window, scrunched up so small he looked like he was trying to disappear entirely.

"Hey, Stevie," he said quietly, sitting cross-legged next to him. He reached for one of his thin hands, wrapping it in his own warm one, feeling how Steve's cold fingers trembled. He squeezed them, and Steve looked up at him finally, eyes red-rimmed and his pale face blotchy in the half-light of the moon and the few streetlamps that had flared to life outside down on the empty street.

"Didn't mean t' wake ya," Steve said thickly, wiping his dripping nose on his sodden pyjama sleeve. "Jus' needed - jus' needed to -"

"Think about your Ma in peace?" Bucky finished for him, already knowing what Steve couldn't find the words to express. He knew him like that - knew what he was thinking and feeling, almost all the time.

Steve nodded, sniffling, rubbing at a few errant tears still sliding down his cheeks. Even red-eyed and distraught, he was beautiful, Bucky thought, with his big blue eyes and sharp chin, freckled cheekbones and long dark lashes that would make any dame green with envy.

"S'okay," Bucky said, rubbing his thumb along the back of Steve's knuckles. "I know you miss her. Hell, I do, too. But I promised her I wouldn't leave you on your own, and, well...not lettin' you cry on our fire escape alone counts as that, so." He let go of Steve's hand and held out the blanket, spreading it wide. "C'mere."

Steve obliged, climbing down from the window and crawling into Bucky's lap, letting him drape the soft woollen blanket over his shoulders like he was a very small child. He tucked his head against Bucky's shoulder, pressing his nose into his collarbone and breathing in the scent of him - soap and sweat and the last remnants of cologne and pomade still clinging to his skin. Steve, on the other hand, smelled like clove cigarettes and charcoal and something lemony underneath it all, fresh like spring rain despite it being the end of summer, and would soon be going into fall.

Bucky wrapped his arms tight around him, pressing his lips to the salty damp of Steve's cheeks. With each new tear that fell, he kissed the spot immediately, brushing away the pain and the loneliness that Steve felt with every caress.

It was the least he could do when the person he loved most was hurting so damn much.

Even if he had to do it only in private.

[chaossmagic]

Not to toot my own horn, but the fic I'm currently writing is about exactly this!

It really is all about Steve's sense of displacement and the isolation and loneliness that comes with it, his relationship with his own queerness and status as a propaganda symbol, and learning to forgive himself and allow himself new feelings and experiences that he does deserve (even if initially he thinks he doesn't).

You might like to give it a read if you fancy it :) (It's also a Stucky fic with a healthy dose of hurt/comfort Shrunkyclunks, so there's that)

Steve Rogers: In Queerness, Time, & Loneliness

I think about being queer and how that intersects with my perception and experience of time a lot. I think about how we, as queer people, live the same length of time when untouched by cruel violence of ignorance (re: hate crimes) or brutal disease compounded into something worse at the fault of human stigma (re: the AIDs crisis), but how it can feel different even though it is the same objectively. With the same length of time, queer people don't typically--in my experience--follow the assumed cishet trajectory of Western life with these particular scripted milestones. Get an education. Get a steady job. Fall in love. Settle down. Be married. Buy a house. Have children. Grow old. Retire. And die surrounded by your spouse, children, and grandchildren. It isn't always that exact order but, usually, those milestones are hit in one order or another, rather, they're expected to be hit.

How isolating must it be then for Steve Rogers? The isolation of pure time in so many ways. Steve who thought that maybe he wanted a spouse and family, and that typical cishet life, only to meet tragedy head-on without time to grieve unconsolidated dreams.

He blinks and finds all of his friends have done those things. They're on the way to completing the list--those friends he was supposed to age alongside and have peaks and valleys with are dying now. They have complete families. There are generations with children and grandchildren.

And I think it strikes Steve as a feeling of incompleteness in himself, even if he's not sure if that's what he wants in this new era. A strange longing for something he can't(?) have, something he doesn't even want(?).

Steve just doesn't have the same sense of time anymore, post-ice. It's as if his internal clock has been altered and warped by the serum right alongside his very bone and flesh. He is in purgatory. The markers of his life, the one he was assumed to want, to have unfulfilled and waiting for him after the war, haven't come. He's missing so many milestones that should've come and gone already. Are they gone? Are they still ahead of him? How old is he really? Does he deserve the typical life, if he finds the want for one in himself, buried underneath this crushing loneliness that presses on his lungs and makes it hard to breathe air? Air that's the same. His lungs are the same. He is no different, but it seems that everyone else has changed and the rhythm of their breathing leaves Steve out of sync.

If Steve ignores the typical life, deeming it already too far gone, what can he shape his own life into? What is the life of someone who isn't heterosexual in the time he's been woken to? A life of secret would've awaited him in the 40s if he hadn't been chasing a pre-prescribed life with a family and children and social acceptance. Now, he needn't hide. What does being unhidden look like when he has no connections, though? He feels invisible in plain sight.

His life feels unscripted and he needn't know what comes next. And in an attempt to catch up and cure some of his deep loneliness so he's on the same page as all the people around him, Steve consumes pop culture, right?

I assume that includes some updates in social acceptance with regards to the LGBTQIA+ community. And when he finds those stories, he must encounter the trope, again and again, of queer people claiming that their life only began when they came out. Steve doesn't know what that means to himself. Is that why time feels the way it does? Not existent and yet so utterly constricting? How has he lived such a life that people tell him about all the great, incredible things he's done, but his life--his real life--has yet to begin? Where is he in his life? Is he supposed to be making mistakes and finding out about what it means to actually stand on his own two feet as an emerging adult in his mid-twenties? Is he supposed to be sucking oxygen through a tube from a tank with rattling breaths as he dies, aging out of life? Where is he? What time is it? Is he alive? Is he dead? Who can he talk to? Who would understand? Would anyone understand?

When won't he be so lonely and unmapped? Straddling two worlds. Time: between the 1940s to the 2010s. Identity: his sexuality as well as his life goals. Both time and identity seem equally tearing and isolating.

Who does he become, a man out of time?

gif credit @/theavengers

[capseycartwright]

i thought about buck and eddie speed running their relationship from friends directly to marriage a little too long and made this. bon appétit.

no ok, in all seriousness. i have never done anything like this before so bear with me, but: with valentines day coming up, i thought it would be an absolute delight to make february the month of friends to fiancés and challenge you lovely talented people to create fun friends to fiancés content for buck and eddie - fic, art, and everything in between.

because friends to fiancés is the trope of all tropes for buddie. they're going to realise they're in love and run to the courthouse and its deeply important to my mental wellbeing that we collectively decide to embrace friends to fiancés as much as humanly possible during friends to fiancés february.

please. i even made u a banner about it.

[lochdandloaded]

felt like designing X-Men Evolution Polaris so I did

Check out my pinned post! <3

[dailyheadcanons]

Pietro: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Wanda: You’re a hazard to society

Lorna: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

[lyralu91]

🖤 Inbox open for fanfic requests - James Delaney 🖤

After finishing my "Taboo" fanfiction ("The river that connects us" - link here!) I've decided to open my inbox for James Delaney requests! ✍🏻🤓

I'm only doing this as a side thing/fun thing/no pressure thing, partially to keep my writing going but mainly because I want to see more James fics out there and encourage others to give it a go! 🤗

To start with I'm up for writing

Drabbles

Imagines/short scenes

Oneshots (max 4 000 words).

If you want smut or porn I won't write anything I personally find degrading (this is best discussed in pm's where we focus on an actual scene/story you have in mind 😉).

I'm TOTALLY up for writing more James and Lorna as well! Set during/after "Taboo", or during/after my fanfiction! 😍

[foliosriot]

WILL AS YOUR BOYFRIEND

nsfw headcanons under the cut! 18+ only MDNI or i’ll block you!

lots of inspo taken from the wonderful @malice-ov-mercy <3

SFW!!

so fucking sweet and loving

the literal definition of golden retriever bf

loves going on adventures with you

energetic as hell

if you ask him, he’s gonna drop whatever he’s doing to be with you, even if that means abandoning the guys

loves calling you silly little pet names that literally have no significance or meaning

such as: “my human-shaped teddy bear” “my little ketchup packet” “sweet baby ray’s award winning barbeque sauce”

funny shit that he generally uses whenever he wants to make you laugh or crack a smile if you’re ever mad at him for whatever reason

the guys tease him about that so much

most notably, moke calls you similar nicknames just to make fun of him

the pet names he actually uses for you consists of mama, princess, and flower

loves giving and receiving flowers soso much

soft lil kisses all the time

kisses to your head, neck, face, hands — literally anywhere that is accessible at that moment

very handsy, mostly just keeping a hand on you and touching you overall without any sexual intentions in mind

he just loves touching you

NSFW!!

very big on body worship

touches you and admires you for what feels like hours before he’s actually doing anything

even then, he is constantly worshipping you no matter the circumstances

just loves it when you get all whiny and whimpering with how much he’s loving on you

slow sex where he can take his time with you when he gets home from tour is a must

knows he’s good with his tongue so he definitely uses it to pleasure you in every way he can

you called him “papi” once as a joke and you won’t stop using it after seeing how he reacted (fucking you into the mattress fast and hard whilst calling you a “little slut” and degrading you for getting him “all worked up”)

vocal as all fucking hell

like the guy is super talented, but when he trades in the controlled harsh vocals for loud moans and those high pitched whines when you just feel so good? when he lets himself lose control a bit? an aphrodisiac in and of itself

furthermore: pull on or play with his hair and he becomes a pliable, whimpering mess

facefucking/blowjobs are his absolute favorites

besides when he’s fucking you nice and deep and praising you like there’s no tomorrow

one of his favorite things is edging you

absolutely fucking loves it when you become so desperate and needy

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

I propose a different theory about the black turtles: they are a motif for despair and make those vulnerable to despair tools of the Beast (who is himself despair).

Auntie Whispers is able to eat them (thereby ridding the Unknown of their malign influence) without turning evil not because she is magical, but because she is not vulnerable to despair

[catofthecanals289]

I could see for miles (and miles) | 16.1k | maxiel fic

I need to talk to you.

Max stares at the words until his eyes get blurry, until the row of blue bubbles, text after text after text to Daniel left unanswered, disappears behind fuzzy grey as he drops his head into his hands, heels pressing into his eye sockets, his vision nothing but buzzing static now. If he scrolled up far enough, he knows he’d get to the last message Daniel sent back to him. A simple thumbs up in reply to Max asking if he’d remember to pop by the shop on the way back from his hike with Blake. They’d run out of treats for Jimmy and Sassy. That had been a week ago.

--- A fic I wrote for my best friend @lilyrizzy 💚 as christmas gift

Thank you to Leah for making the header! And to Linnea for giving this a quick read and assuring me it didn't suck so I it would do as a gift :)

[chaossmagic]

Here it is, my first Stucky fic and first completed Bang fic, ever!

I agonised over this and it wouldn't have been possible without my lovely collaborator @estelior who listened to my ideas and let me worry about not finishing on time, and was generally really supportive and wonderful to talk to throughout the whole process.

It's short but sweet and hopefully all will like it :)

'Smile for me'

Fic by: @chaossmagic (anythingbutplatonic on AO3)

Art by: @estelior (Estelior on AO3)

For @buckybarnesevents ShrinkyClinksDoubleBang2023 💙

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: Teen and up

Word count: 4,2k

Tags: Shrinkyclinks, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes/Non-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Artist Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Steve loves his giant nerd boyfriend, Bucky loves his tiny artist boyfriend

Summary:

It's been a long road since they first met, but Steve and Bucky still know how to make each other smile

Read on A03

Thank you so, so much to my wonderful writer @chaossmagic for choosing my art! And for our discussion of your wonderful story. I was very honored by your beautiful and sweet fic! I'm very proud of us!💙

And a big thanks to mods of the @buckybarnesevents for organized this Bang, and to every participant and their beautiful works! You are heroes! 💙

[chaossmagic]

Human Lens (Stucky Big Bang 2024) - 8/?

@taybay14's art of photographer!Bucky

Torn from his old life and dumped unceremoniously in the 21st century, and then having to face an alien attack just months after coming out of the ice, Steve Rogers is struggling to come to terms with everything he's lost and isn't sure the title of Captain America is one he feels 100% comfortable with anymore. Alone, deeply lonely and desperate for anything to help him feel like his old self again, he stumbles across the work of fellow veteran and photographer Bucky Barnes, who specialises in helping wounded soldiers reclaim their bodily autonomy and sense of self after injury in combat.

When he asks Bucky to take his own photograph, he finds the connection he's been looking for the entire time. And, as it just so happens, Bucky finds exactly the same thing.

___________

This was written for the Stucky Big Bang 2024 @stuckybangs and inspired by the gorgeous art of photographer Bucky by @taybay14 which will be embedded in the first chapter shortly and is also included here.

It's currently incomplete, but will be posted weekly - six chapters have been written so far, and I can't wait to share with you all the story of self-discovery, healing from trauma, and finding love in unexpected places that this version of Steve and Bucky go on.

Read on AO3

[sitkowski]

(IDK WHAT THIS IS AND I KNOW NEXT TO NOTHING ABOUT LORNA SHORE OR WILL BUT)

You know what fic trope itches my brain?

Huddling for warmth.

Because winters on the East Coast are no joke. The cold snaps into place and there's nearly a foot of snow on the ground two weeks before Christmas. Everything is cold and dark. Eventually, the power goes out in your area. You're lucky enough to have inherited your parent's place and while it's out in the woods practically in the middle of nowhere, it's got a wood stove and there's a decent stash of wood in the cellar. As long as you crack a window, you won't suffocate. So you load the sofa up with blankets and grab the portable charger you keep for times like this.

The knock on the door surprises you. Who the hell would be stupid enough to be out in this? When you open the front door, the first thing you see on the other side is a human shaped blob that you realize you know. Will has on at least four layers, maybe more. You see hints of a beanie, maybe two hoodies, all beneath a heavy puffer coat and at least two scarves.

You ask him if he's insane, even as you let him in. Because there's no way he drove here. When he tells you he walked, you start yelling at him. It doesn't matter that your places are only separated by a thin woodline and it only took him about ten minutes. Last time you checked the temperature, it was nineteen degrees out.

He doesn't seem phased by your complaints, standing by the wood stove and shedding layers. It won't be dark for hours, and the living room is the warmest room. You've got water running to protect the pipes, and enough non-perishable foods. It's not the first time you've been in an outage in the winter. You're watching him strip out of hoodies—and three pairs of sweatpants— when you realize: Will walked in nineteen degree weather to see you. When you ask him why, he just says he missed you, that as soon as he got home from tour he wanted to see you but knew there were other things he had to do first. But he was making time for you now, and the two of you could be snowed in together.

By the time he's down to his jeans and a thermal shirt, he's shaking, as if the cold finally caught up to him. You make him get beneath the pile of microfiber blankets and curl up beside him. He's freezing even with all of the layers he had on, and you wrap yourself around him, letting your body heat seep into him. He tips his head back, kissing you softly. When you look out the window beside you, you can see that the snow is starting up again and you pull the blankets up higher. The air between the two of you is humid and relaxing, and he's asleep before you know it. You pull his phone from the nest of blankets and text one of his guys, just in case someone is looking for him. Closing your eyes, you let him burrow closer, tucking his head beneath your chin as you trace your fingers over the ink on his throat.

[capseycartwright]

nudging into the crook of your partner's neck 🥺🥺

It had been a long shift. It had been a long week, if Buck was being entirely honest, but it had been a particularly long day. That was the thing, about firefighting – it had long, long days. It had started with a structure fire that had lasted for 12 of their 24, and after that, it had been call, after call, dinner a hurried UberEats order, Bobby’s ingredients left in the fridge for their next shift. As much as Buck loved being a firefighter, he hated shifts like this one – felt the tiredness deep in his bones.

Fifteen minutes.

They just had to survive fifteen more minutes until their shift change.

If he sat down, Buck wasn’t sure he’d ever peel himself off that firehouse couch, so he stayed standing. It was easier.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he noticed Eddie approaching. His boyfriend – and it had been a few weeks now, but Buck still wasn’t used to that, being able to call Eddie his – looked dead tired, his eyes heavy with the need for sleep as he shuffled across the firehouse loft.

“Hey, honey,” Buck greeted softly, enjoying the way Eddie’s cheeks got a little pinker, at the petname. That was the joy, of being in the early stages of a new relationship – Buck was testing things out. It was fun.

“Mm,” Eddie made an agreeable noise, wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” Buck agreed. This, the way Eddie was so affectionate, had been one of the best surprises of them starting to date – Buck hadn’t expected Eddie to crave touch, quite so much, but he did. They kept things mostly professional, at work, but with thirteen minutes to go until the end of their shift, Buck was not going to refuse an armful of Eddie.

“When we go home, can we just go straight to bed?”

Home.

When Eddie and Chris had come back from Texas, Buck hadn’t moved out, and that probably should have been a good indicator of where things were headed – and now, six weeks, a love confession or two, and several arguments about which sets of furniture to keep, they were officially living together in that perfect, sunny home on South Bedford.

“Definitely,” Buck agreed, and laughed, as Eddie nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, Eddie’s arms slung loosely around Buck’s waist. “You really are tired, huh?”

Eddie nodded, the faint scratch of the beginnings of stubble rubbing roughly at his neck. He didn’t say anything, but he tightened his grip on Buck’s waist.

Pressing a kiss to the side of Eddie’s head, Buck tightened his own grip. He loved this – loved getting to hold Eddie like this. When he’d realised that he was in love with Eddie, he’d spent months trying to bury the feeling, convincing himself that Eddie would never feel the same, that he could never crave this, never have this, never get to have Eddie in his arms like this – so, sue him for indulging himself, even if they were at work.

Buck didn’t even realise he was swaying, slightly, until Hen arrived, a fond look on her face. “It looks like he’s asleep standing up,” she teased, her voice low.

Eddie’s breath was low, and even, a telltale sign he was definitely asleep. It was one of Eddie’s more impressive skills – his ability to sleep anywhere, even standing up. He probably had the army, to thank for that.

“He might be,” Buck grinned, holding Eddie a little tighter.

“’M awake,” Eddie mumbled, not moving his face from where it was nestled in the crook of Buck’s shoulder. “Just resting my eyes. You’re very comfortable.”

Buck snorted. “Thank you, baby.”

“You two are cavity inducing,” Hen teased good-naturedly.

Buck knew.

He was fine with it.

(Eddie was too.)

send me a physical intimacy prompt

[darksideoftheshipps]

VessWill

Vessel: I'm gonna fuck you through Eden and back.

Will: Holy shit.

I have this dirty though of Vessel, II, III and IV fucking, !read worshipping!, Will during their ritual. Because he wants to be one of them. He wants Sleep to accept him as one of his worship boys.

I plan to do a mood board.

[lyralu91]

Behind the scenes of Taboo (2017) James ❤️ Lorna

[arborescentarecaceae]

I've been kind of meh on recent X-Men comics but this month's issue featured a gay lighthouse keeper plus Emma, Ilyana, Kate, and Lorna slaying so I have no choice but to stan