#mostly drew this to get it out of my head

[armxnh]

the first time he's ever been provoked to hit a child.

synopsis: he's jealous... jealous of a child.

characters: bakugo katsuki, denki kaminari, eijiro kirishima.

genre: fluff

warnings: fluff, jealousy( ? ).

masterlist.

bakugo katsuki

bakugo katsuki never saw himself as the jealous type.

he was top of his class—hell, probably top of the entire school. perfect grades, unmatched combat scores, and a sports festival champion. even as a third-year, he'd already built a reputation most pro heroes would kill for.

so no, jealousy wasn't something he thought he'd ever deal with. why should he? everyone knew you were his. and anyone with half a brain wouldn't dare look your way for more than five seconds—because they knew they didn't stand a chance. not when your boyfriend was him.

or at least... that's what he believed.

until today.

"god, villains really don't know when to quit, huh?" you groaned, stretching your arms over your head as your joints popped loudly in protest.

you and bakugo stood beside the police car as the cops made the villains enter the car—ignoring their protest about how 'they didn't do anything wrong'.

"yeah, well maybe if they had two brain cells to run together, they'd realize getting their asses kicked again isn't a fun hobby," your boyfriend muttered, handing you a bottle of water, before taking a sip of his.

you took the water gratefully, shooting him a tired smile, "thanks, kats"

bakugo just grunted in response, subtly brushing your shoulder with his as the villains were finally carted off. for a moment, things we're quiet. just another day of kicking villain ass walking away like the power couple you were.

and then it happened.

"(y/n)!" a small voice called out.

you turned just in time to catch a blur of energy as a kid—eight or nine maybe—came sprinting across the parking lot, weaving between police officers and tape like it was an obstacle course built for him.

"riku!" you laughed as the boy tackled your legs, "what are you doing here?"

riku looked up with the kind of sparkle in his eyes bakugo instantly recognized—and hated, "i saw the fight on the news and told my mom we had to come! you were so cool! you punched that villain through a wall!"

you crouched down to ruffle his hair. "it was more of a gentle wall-crash, but thanks sweetheart."

bakugo glared. sweetheart?

riku's face turned red as he rocked on his heels, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt, "u-um... i-i made something for you!"

he fished in his backpack and pulled out a crayon drawing—poorly shaded and mostly stick figures, but it was you in your hero costume, fighting a bad guy, with hearts drawn all around the border.

you took it with a touched smile, "awe riku. this is amazing! i love it."

bakugo, behind you, looked like he was witnessing a crime. his eye twitched, "... are those hearts? around her head?"

riku turned around, "oh! i drew them 'cause she's my future wife!"

bakugo choked on his water.

you stared at the kid, caught between laughing and panicking. "riku- what?!"

the boy puffed out his chest proudly, "when i grow up, i'm gonna be a hero too. then i'm gonna ask (y/n) to marry me!"

bakugo took one long, slow step forward.

you recognized that face. it was the calm before the explosion.

"hey, little man," he said, voice low, "you know she's got a boyfriend, right?"

riku blinked, confused, "oh... you?"

"yeah. me." bakugo crossed his arms. "the guy who just blew up half a building and walked away without a scratch? ring a bell?"

riku frowned, then shrugged, "i'm not scared. heroes are supposed to be brave, right?"

bakugo's mouth fell open for half a second before he clamped it shut, visibly malfunctioning. "brave?"

you stepped in before katsuki declared war on a child. "okay! okay! time for riku to go back to his mom—who is very kindly waving and trying not to look horrified right now."

"but—!"

you gently pushed riku back toward the crowd, "thank you for the picture sweetheart. i'll hang it on the wall."

riku beamed at that, "i'll train really hard! you'll see!"

bakugo waited until the kid was well out of earshot before muttering, "i'm gonna buy you a diamond the size of your damn head. see how he likes that."

you laughed, slipping your hand into his, "you're not seriously jealous of a child, are you?"

"tch- i'm not jealous," he muttered.

you raised an eyebrow.

"...okay, maybe i am. a little."

"you do realize he still thinks girls have cooties, right?"

"he also thinks you're wife material," bakugo huffed, "which he's right about. but still."

you leaned into him, laughing. "don't worry, babe. you'll always be my number one hero."

he smirked, tightening his grip on your hand, "damn right i will."

denki kaminari

"c'mon, pretty—just one last game" denki pleaded, eyes glued to the glowing arcade screen.

you couldn't help but laugh. he'd been at it for nearly an hour now, completely hooked. according to him, beating the high score was way more important than studying with bakugo—who, in his words, was "an actual migraine in combat boots."

with a sigh, you crossed your arms, "alright... but don't come whining to me when you're up all night cramming for exam."

his face lit up like a kid on christmas morning, "you're the best," he grinned, pressing a quick kiss on your lips, "swear this is the last one. for real this time."

you just raised an eyebrow.

he did not, in fact, mean for real this time.

denki dove back into the game like his life depended on it, fingers flying across the buttons as neon lights flashed across the screen. you leaned against the machine next to him, sipping your drink and watching with an amused smile.

everything was peaceful.

until it wasn't.

"hey," came a tiny, confident voice from below.

you glanced down—and there he was. maybe eight years old, decked out in a gamer hoodie three sizes too big, and a pair of cartoon-printed sunglasses perched on his head like he was born to be a problem.

"are you with him?" the kid asked, jerking a thumb at denki.

you blinked, "yeah?"

he squinted at denki, unimpressed, "he doesn't look like a winner."

denki froze mid-jump, "...excuse me?"

the kid grinned up at you, "you're really pretty. you should ditch the loser and come hang out with me. i've got v-bucks."

you chocked on your drink, eyes wide, "what—?"

denki spun away from the arcade screen, "alright, little man. pipe down. she's mine."

the kid crossed his arms, "that's not how it works. if you're really her boyfriend, then prove it."

denki raised an eyebrow, "prove it how?"

the kid pointed to the screen, "final round. me versus you. winner gets the girl."

you looked between them, half-mortised, half hysterical.

"denki, he's a child."

denki was already cracking his knuckles, "doesn't matter. no kid's gonna flirt with my girl while i'm still holding a controller."

the machine blinked. player two joined.

the child took position.

you sighed, but couldn't stop the smile growing on your lips, "okay, but you're buying him ice cream if you make him cry."

denki smirked, eyes locked on the screen, "he started this. i'm just finishing it."

FIGHT!

the match was absurd. denki picked the flashiest character possible, spamming electric attacks like a man possessed. the kid? way to good for his age. thumb tapping like a professional, dodging and countering with perfectly timed combos.

a small crowd started gathering. a few people even started cheering. you stood back, arms crossed, watching your boyfriend and an eight-year-old battle like it was the fate of the world at stake.

"YEAH! TAKE THAT, PIKACHU MAN!" the kid yelled.

denki grinned. "big words for someone losing 3—1."

thee final round was neck-and-neck.

one bar of health each.

denki made the first move—risky—and landed a critical hit.

K.O

victory screen flashed.

denki dropped the controller with a dramatic sigh of relief and turned to the kid, "stay in school."

the kid pouted, "hmph. rematch when i'm ten."

he stomped off. denki turned to you, smug as ever. "so... still think i'm waisting time at the arcade?"

you wrapped your arms around his waist, "you just defended my honour in a video game death match against a third grader. i think that's marriage material."

he wiggled his eyebrows, "you say that now. wait until i beat someone in Dance Dance Revolution."

eijiro kirishima

eijiro sat on your bed, staring down at the phone in his hands—your phone. his gaze was fixed, as if he was trying to make sense of something that refused to make sense at all.

you two had been together for just over six months, and for eijiro, they'd been the happiest months of his life. he trusted you more than anyone he'd ever known. if you asked his to jump off a bridge, he probably would—because you'd only ask if you had a good reason—that's how much he trusts you.

not once in those six months had he felt the need to check your phone or asked for your location. his trust was solid. unbreakable.

until today.

when you stepped outside the room and your phone wouldn't stop buzzing, so he reached for it without thinking—just to make sure everything was okay. maybe it was your parents, or something urgent. he didn't meant to snoop.

but what he found knocked the air out of him.

over twenty messages. all from someone named yuki.

yuki: are you still coming over tonight???????? hellooooooo (y/nnnnnnnnn) i miss you i wanna play with you the same as yesterday!

and it kept going.

messages after message, filled with some kind of rope-related game and references to having done it every night this week.

and then it hit him.

you'd told him you needed to visit your parents because of family issues. was that a lie? had you used them as a cover to meet him?

the thought alone made his stomach twist.

his mind raced, spiralling, he didn't even hear the dorm door open. not until your voice broke the silence.

"i know you said you already ate, but i thought we could watch that new show together and—"

you stopped mid-sentence. you arms, full of snacks, lowered slightly as you took in the look on your boyfriend's face. his head was down, his grip on your phone so tight his knuckles were white.

you dropped the snacks onto the desk without a second look and rushed to him, cupping his face gently with your hands, "eiji? are you okay?'

he didn't respond right away. his eyes were a storm—hurt, anger, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite name.

eiji swallowed. his voice barely above a whisper, "do you... do you love me?"

"what?" you blind stunned. "of course i love you, eijiro! why would you even—wait... is this about those fans who started shipping me with izuku again? because you know that's just stupid—"

he reached up and took your wrist, gently lowering your hand then, he placed your phone in your palm.

"i need you to be honest with me..." he said quietly. "have i not been good to you? please tell me this is just some weird misunderstanding and not that you've found someone else—"

you looked down at your phone. the screen still showed yuki's texts.

"pffft"

eijiro's brows furrowed, hurt flashing in his eyes, "did you just... laugh?"

you bit your lip, trying to hold back the grin that was already tugging at your lips. "i—i'm sorry, it's just—you're so cute when you're jealous!" you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose.

he instinctively leaned into your touch, but quickly pulled back, still confused, "i don't get it..."

you stood up, tugging him up by the hand, "come on, big guy. there's someone i want you to meet."

thanks to your quirk—spacial manipulation—you snapped the two of you through a portal in a blink. one second you were in your dorm room; the next, you stood outside a house—your neighbours' house.

eijiro looked around, confused, "wait... why are we—"

"(y/n)!!"

a voice interrupted him—small, high-pitched, full of excitement.

"hey there, yuki!" you called back.

eijiro turned toward the voice. a child—no more than 10 years old—ran up to you, throwing his arms around your waist with a big grin.

a kid.

a ten years old kid.

and in that moment, eijiro felt his soul leave his body.

he'd been jealous... of this?

you ruffled his hair as he beamed up at you, completely oblivious to the emotional torment eijiro was hit with.

"yuki, this is eijiro," you said tugging him gently forward by the hand, "the boyfriend i was telling you about."

yuki's eyes lit up wide with excitement, "red riot?! woah—you didn't tell me he was that cool!"

you chuckled, "yeah, sorry, he gets shy when people fangirl."

eijiro blinked. once. twice. and then, the puzzle pieces clicked together.

"you... this is the yuki?" h asked, voice cracking slightly as the color rushed to his cheeks. "the one from the texts?"

yuki nodded proudly, "yup! we've been playing spy games every night this week! she ties me up, and i try to escape, and then she catches men again—like a ninja!"

your boyfriend scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning, "oh my god. i thought—i mean, i really thought—"

"that i was cheating on you with someone whose idea of flirting is pretending to be kidnapped and yelling 'no fair, i almost had it this time' while covered in couch cushions?" you teased gently.

he chuckled despite himself, dragging a hand through his hair, "i feel like the biggest idiot in japan right now."

you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, "hey, no. you're not an idiot. you just... overthink a lot. maybe a little too much for your own good."

eijiro melted into the hug with a sheepish smile, "i should've trusted you."

"you do trust me. that was just a moment." you leaned back, pressing a small kiss on his jaw, before meeting his eyes, "next time, just ask me. no silent suffering, okay?"

he nodded, "i love you... so so much."

you felt your face warm up at the way he looked at you, "i love you, too."

as yuki raced inside, yelling something about showing 'red riot his secret base,' you and eijiro followed slowly behind, fingers intertwined.

"so... you still wanna watch that show tonight?" you asked.

eijiro smiled, "only if you promise not to tie me up afterward."

you looked your boyfriend up and down, a smirk on your face, "no promises."

ⓒarmxnh

[onlyheluvsme]

Abby’s first time being with a girl but something fluff…

Like she’s only ever been with guys who didn’t treat her right or like a girl because of her looks, so when reader takes her out on dates,gets her flowers, Abby crys because she finally feels special and appreciated

so many ppl are asking for gay awakening!abby im on the brink of making it a mini series — with that being said,,,, here you go!! enjoy!

⇢ ˗ˏˋher own stocking࿐ྂ

˗ˏˋabby fluff!!´ˎ˗mdni, lowercase intended, fluff, mentions of: alcohol *ೃ༄pls leave reqs!!

it was december in seattle and the cold had officially set in. the days got shorter and training got harder to wake up for.

your girlfriend was currently in the gym with the others for some lifting competition and as much as you would have loved to watch abby’s arms all sweaty and bulging, there were some slightly more important things to attend to.

you were currently on the floor of your shared room, two big red socks laid in front of you. stickers, markers, and glitter glue surrounded you as your aching back bent over. your stocking sat to the side, only a stencil outline of what you wanted on it. you started with abby’s knowing she wouldn’t be gone long and that you wanted to take your time with every little detail.

your hand splayed out the red fabric evenly as you wrote abby’s name in colorful letters; coloring each letter with careful precision. you drew hearts and different shapes on her stocking, as well as the date she nervously asked you to be her first girlfriend, bringing the red sock to life, only pausing to stretch your back and shoulder.

it was your first holidays as a couple and owen had told you during a drunken night over a few beers about something abby said before meeting you,

"you know once she came by my place and saw the holiday stockings she said that all she wanted was someone to love her enough to make her one" he said half-mindedly holding a mostly empty beer.

you remember completely zoning out after that, heartbroken she would say such a thing, heartbroken no one ever made her a fucking stocking. that's why it was currently your mission to ensure she felt loved enough to have a stocking made.

if only this girl knew what i would do for her.

abby rolled her shoulder under her gym bag, after coming in first place in the competition, she was making her way back to the room you shared. tired, hungry, and ready to just hold you, abby opens the door to find you on the floor, arts and crafts items surrounding you.

your head laid against the couch, eyes closed and mouth slightly a gap, seemingly passed out. abby couldn't help but chuckle at how sweet you looked until her eyes make contact with the reason you were on the floor.

"oh baby" she whispers to you but mostly to herself as she lets her gym bag fall and crouches in front of your sleeping person. her fingers find the red fabric of the finished stocking you'd made her. her name displayed across the front in large letters, hearts and shapes littered the fabric, her finger brushed over where you'd written your anniversary. when she turned it over it read,

"happy holidays my sweet girl, there isn't a word created to explain the deep-aching love i have for you. you need to know how loved you are, how i would go to the ends of the earth just to bring you happiness for a split second. you are my world abby"

the words became blurry as she read them, tears forming in her waterline. her glossy eyes dragged to your sleeping form, completely unaware of the absolute wreck you've given your girlfriend.

abby had never felt like this for another woman before, you were her first girlfriend and she spent most of the time worrying that she was doing something wrong. you always reassured her but it always nagged the back of her mind. she was experiencing true love for the first time and was horrified to ruin it. yet the words written on a simple red stocking make her heart stammer and her lungs tight.

one of her thick fingers came up to ghost your cheek, accidentally waking you in the process. your eyes blink awake and you smile at first as the sight of your very pretty girlfriend comes into view. that is until you remember what you were last doing and you catch the tear rolling down her cheek.

"oh fuck" your spine straightens and eyes widen when you see the stocking in her hand.

"you weren't supposed to-" she cuts you off in a soft voice,

"i love you so much baby you don't even understand" her voice is so soft its close to heartbreaking. the look she gives you would be enough to bring you to your knees if you weren't already on the floor.

"i don't know what i've done to deserve you" she whispers as her head turns down to stare at the stocking in her hand.

with slow movements you bring your self to your knees in front of her, hands coming up to slowly push down the stocking; forcing her to look at you.

"you don't need to deserve me abby, i was made for you" you stare into her eyes intently and she cracks, arms coming to wrap around your frame as she falls back onto the floor pulling you into her lap.

the colorful stocking falls to next to her onto your half finished one. she places both hands on your hips, stabilizing you as you wrap your hands around her neck.

"what am i going to do with you? huh?" abby places kisses into your neck and you can't help but giggle at the tickle of her hair against you. her hold on you is strong, not allowing for any space between the two of you.

two strong hands come up to your face and you sink into her, eyes closing in bliss. abby's thumb lightly grazes back and forth on your cheek and she admires your peaceful face,

"i'm fucking keeping you forever" abby says pulling you into her even more, if that was possible.

thats how you both fell asleep, on the floor of your shared room, next to the new stocking abby could call her own.

[abby masterlist]

[sky-snz]

couch cuddles (m)

-

A quiet evening in. A stiff throw pillow propped up against one arm of the couch where I lay, with him lying on top. Sort of. Mostly on the cushions, his arms around my middle. His head rested on my stomach, breath warming me through the fabric. The living room lighting changed shades with the bright television screen, cutting often between different faces. It was a cooking show rerun.

His breathing gave a small stutter. I pulled my gaze back to him. Brow pinching, eyes still shut. “*e‘hm!*… hmb…” Slowly, he turned and pressed his face into my shirt. “RR‘SSCHH!!-iew…” 

A hot blast of air set my skin aflame as he directed his sneeze into my stomach. My hand raised to rest on his back, and gently moved up and down.

“Bless you,” I murmured. 

“*hsnf*… *grm!* Thagk you.”

I looked back over at the tv. The pixels formed a lovely-looking cheesecake that I knew wouldn’t win the challenge. He snuffled and buried his face into my shirt. My hand moved slowly over his back as he tried to get comfortable again. His form deflated with a sigh as he lay still. Some moments later, at my abdomen, I felt his nose pressing in. There was brief, tickly pause in the rhythm of his breathing. I gently scratched his back. 

“rR‘USSCHHiue-!!“ He sneezed again, with such desperation that made my breathing falter, the ridge of his nose digging into my stomach.

I gave his back another rub. “Bless you, hon.”

He coughed and drew in another thick sniffle. As face lifted away briefly, I could feel a wet patch of fabric on my stomach. He laid back down, breath whistling.

I stared at the coffee table, where the tissue box was out of reach. My eyes fell back to him, limp on top of me, trying to sleep. There was a feeling of déjà vu. And other feelings. His arms squeezed me as he got comfortable again.

“Let me get some tissues,” I murmured delicately, anchored to the couch.

He responded with a soft snore.

[galaxymacbeth]

Travelin' Soldier pt. 2

So the letters came from an army camp In California, then Vietnam And he told her of his heart, it might be love And all of the things he was so scared of

cw: depression & angst

The first letter came two weeks after he’d left. The writing was scratchy and Harley broke down as she tore through the envelope to get it open.

Harley, I never did make the promise out loud to write you, but I’ll make it now. As long as I have access to paper, I promise to write you letters as often as I can. I made it to training and it’s surprisingly easy. Guess my abusive piece of shit did manage to train me for something. There’s almost 100 of us but the officers said that probably only half of us will make it through training. I plan on being one of them. I don’t have much else to write about yet, but I wanted to make you that promise. Simon

When she stumbled into the pub ten minutes late, Richie and Drew snatched the letter from her to read before they both burst into laughter.

“You two are so fucked,” Richie said as he handed it back to her. Drew nodded, not able to talk through his laughter.

“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re just writing letters,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. The letter was tight in her hand.

“Means you’re in love,” Drew finally spit out, “deep in love.”

“We barely know each other,” Harley mumbled as she opened her arms and looked down at the letter again. I wanted to make you that promise. Well, she was in love at least, maybe Simon was too.

The ribbing continued well into the week, even as Harley wandered into the pub on her day off, after a particularly hard day of classes, to sit and write.

Simon, Uni is a bitch. I’m 1000% sure basic training is harder than trying to memorize Scottish kings and when they ruled, but fuck me if I don’t want to quit and join the army now. I told you that I think you’ll do good in the world and I meant it. You’re going to be one of the best soldier the world has ever known. Or maybe the world won’t know because I guess the best soldiers don’t get put into history. Christopher Lee wasn’t known for the good he did in the world until years later so maybe I’ll never get to know what it is you’ve done to make the world better. Just don’t forget to come home sometimes. I’ll be here until I get my degree or until I die, whichever comes first. (I’ll probably die first since I think I just failed my maths class for the second time) Don’t feel like you have to write just to make me happy, it’s okay if you don’t have anything to say. Maybe you can just send me postcards from where you are or pictures. Love, Harley

Drew jabbed at her side when she signed off, but she just glared at him and folded the letter. He set another cup of tea down in front of her with a smile and handed her an envelope. She scribbled the base address on the front and turned it to seal it but Drew slapped her hand away.

“What?”

He held out a coaster, “put it in.”

“Why?” Harley took it, flipping it over before she shoved it into the envelope.

“Well, it’s mostly selfish. Someone might ask about it, but he won’t be able to forget you,” Drew said as he leaned on the bar. Harley rolled her eyes, but sealed the letter and coaster inside with a dab of water. Richie took it to the post box down the street as he left for a break and Harley laid her head on the bar.

“Oh, cheer up, Har, he’ll be fine. It’s just some basic training. He’ll get time off when he graduates and then you two can confess your undying love.”

Harley glared at Drew, so he put his hands up, one holding a white dish rag, and backed away from her.

It was another week before a letter came again. It was heavier than the first and Harley curled up on her couch to open it. As she pulled the letter out, a keychain fell into her lap. It took her a mere second before she let out a huffing laugh. It was a Matchbox car Simon had managed to turn into a keychain and it was a small, green MGB.

Harley, You gave me your keychain and I’m worried that you won’t remember your keys without it. I got some looks when I spent two hours trying to make it, but its worth it. One of the boys, James, asked about why I was making it and when I told him about you he tried to get your address. Didn’t give it to him, though. They said that we’ll be moving to another base next month to start harder PT, so you’ll have to wait for me to write again to get the new address. A couple guys already left. The COs keep saying that it’ll get harder from here but I’m ready for it. I’ve at least got something to try to get back to. Simon ♡ oh, I almost forgot. I’m also sending a postcard tomorrow. found one on base and I think I’m gonna start sending them whenever I get moved to a new base.

Class drug on and her leg wouldn’t stop bouncing as the profession droned on about how the East India Company was intended to be beneficial for India. The clock on the wall signaled that there were only three minutes left in the lecture and Harley wasn’t sure he would finish propagating in time. She’d closed her textbook five minutes ago and had stopped writing well before that. Even her desk partner had stopped paying much attention to the professor.

“Oh, that’s time. We’ll continue this next week.” Students shot out of their seats and the professor’s voice rose shakily over them. “Don’t forget your papers are due next Monday! Five pages!”

Harley groaned as she shoved her textbook away and all but ran out the door. She hadn’t begun the paper yet, so she would have to start tonight and miss out on the Friday trivia night she’d convinced Drew to set up.

“Harley, are you coming to that party tomorrow?” One of her classmates fell in step with her. Theodor smiled down at her but all she could think about was getting home to see if Simon had written another letter.

“Uh, probably not. Didn’t actually start Hamish’s paper so I have to write that and work,” she replied. Theodor’s face fell and he sighed.

“You’re never out anymore, why?”

It was Harley’s turn to sigh and she stopped in front of him, “Theo, look, you’re really nice but I’m not interested. And I have to work my way through school so work is almost important to me.”

He scoffed but said nothing and left. Harley groaned and began jogging towards the bus stop. It was a short ride to her flat but it was faster than walking. As she caught the door into the building, she slipped her keys out and turned the lock of her mailbox. A letter sat, puffy and thick, and a whine escaped her as she snatched it and locked the mailbox again.

It had been almost two weeks since Simon last wrote her. He’d told her about how training had gotten harder but he was enjoying it. About how he has bad days when the COs get too loud and aggressive and he almost loses control. One letter even told the story of how his father had beat his mother so horribly that Simon finally snapped. The fight lasted for minutes and his younger brother, Tommy, had to pull him off before he killed his father. It was the last time his father ever laid a hand on Simon, but the abuse got worse for the rest of the family. He likened the aggression of his COs to it and told her the only way he was able to calm down was to think about their dinner in the field.

This particular letter was two pages, though upon closer inspection, it was actually two letters stuffed in the same envelope.

Harley, I probably should have told you before. We’ve been writing for months now and it’s been eating at me. The guys think I’m soft for writing to you. They make fun of me sometimes by asking if ‘my sweet princess has received my latest raven and if she sent me a handkerchief as a symbol of her love.’ They’re really doing their best. Even called me Sir Knight once. Gotta hand it to them, they’re funny at least. Don’t think I’ll stop writing you, though. I could care less what they think about it. At least I’ve got a girl back home to talk to. The COs said the next base will have a phone, so I could call you if you want to give me your number. Gotta cut it short, we’re going out on a multiday ruck. Love, Simon

The remaining page under the letter had a crudely drawn castle and what must have been a raven, though Harley thought it more resembled a dragon.

Harley, I really meant to tell you that I love you. The guys are ribbing me, but James at least told me it was good to have someone to love back home. I agree. I can’t wait to see you again. I called Rosario’s and Drew gave me your number so I’ll call you when we settle into the next base. It’ll probably be around the 14th. love, Simon

Tears streamed down her face as she reread the letter five more times. Her phone rang, though, and she snatched it from her backpack.

“Hello? Simon?”

“Jeez, now I feel like an ass,” Richie grumbled into the phone, “Drew told me he called but I figured he already got a hold of you when you asked for the night off.”

“Oh,” her smile dropped, “no, I need to write a paper, that’s why I took off.”

“Har, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not your fault, Rich. I just got the letter,” she said as she picked it up to read again. I love you. He must have felt it for a while but was too scared to say anything. Harley got the sick idea to go buy a handkerchief just to send with her next letter.

“And what else did he say?”

“Did Simon tell Drew that he was going to tell me?”

There was a short scuffle on the other end and Drew’s voice took over, “that little prick was supposed to keep that to hisself. Yeah, Simon told me he loves you.”

“How long ago,” she asked. Harley laid back on her bed, clutching the letter to her chest.

“’Bout a week ago, I think.”

Harley hummed into the phone, “what was Richie calling for?”

“He was supposed to be checking on you but he clearly fucked that. Take as much time as you need off, get your paper and letter written, ‘kay?”

“Okay, I’m gonna go and start writing,” she said. Without waiting for a reply, she hung up and tossed her phone to the side.

Simon loved her. Harley loves him.

It was a simple sentiment that had her crying in her bed. According to his current address, he was stationed in Grantham, Lincolnshire. She was sure a postcard was coming soon and she would add it to the five others on her wall beside the letters. Each had been painstakingly flattened under her maths books and slipped into a plastic sleeve before she tapped them on the wall. Drew had seen the wall once and called it ‘cute’ but Harley knew he meant that she was crazy.

Harley sat at her desk that night, typing up a paper on how unhelpful the East India Company was to the Indian population. She made herself a vodka Red Bull around ten and threw herself back into her desk chair.

Simon, I hope you know I spent quiet quite a while crying over that letter. Well, you couldn’t have known until I told you but still. I cried. a lot. I think you’ve probably always known that I fell in love with you that day, even if I never had the balls guts to say it. And if you didn’t know, don’t ever tell me. I hope Grantham was nice. I looked it up one morning before class and it seems like a nice town. I’ve never asked if you get to leave base sometimes. Do you? Drew told me once that I should just show up to where ever you are one of these days but I have no idea if you’ve actually left the barracks before. If you can leave, you should check out the town and tell me about it. It looks like a storybook and I want to visit some day. I finally passed my maths class, which should be more embarrassing than it is. I just hate math. Maths, or whatever you all call it. I had hoped getting a history degree meant no math or science but I still have to take a science class before I can graduate. Astronomy or chemistry? You pick. I love you Harley

By the time she’d finished writing, the digital clock on her desk flashed midnight. Her drink was discarded halfway through her writing, so she crawled into bed and curled into her pillow. She spends the little time before she drifts off wondering about what Simon was doing; his training, his free time, if any, and how he’ll feel when he reads her latest letter.

It’s not until the next day, while she’s falling asleep over a history textbook, that her phone rings. Groggy, she picks it up and presses it to her face.

“’Llo?”

“Didn’t sleep?”

Her eyes shoot open and her spine straightens, “Simon?”

“It’s me, love, how are you?” Simon chuckles, the phone rumbling lightly with the sound.

“Clearly tired, I just started a paper,” she said as she closed the textbook.

“Lemme guess, it’s due soon.”

Harley scoffed as she sat on her bed, “duh. I don’t start papers until they’re due, you know that.”

Simon let out a content sigh.

“How are you? PT still trying to kick your ass?” She drew her blanket up to her chin and pressed the phone harder into her cheek.

“Trying. I’m winning. We’re actually startin’ weapons training tomorrow. Knives first,” he said. Harley could hear something shift on his end but didn’t wonder.

“Gonna learn how to stab someone super effectively?” Simon laughed. “Bet that’s pretty hot.”

“It’s October, it’s cold as fuck out here,” Simon said, his voice raising in a questioning tone.

Harley choked on her breath and coughed, “no, you idiot.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I—I meant I bet that’s hot to watch.”

“Into knives?”

“Just the soldiers that use them,” she mused. The image in her head was hot; Simon sneaking around, knife primed to take down whatever bad guy he was hunting. Yeah. Hot, she thought.

“I’ll remember that.” He laughs at her, but it’s low and meant for only her ears.

“Please don’t. Promise me that,” Harley whispers.

“Don’t make promises I can’t keep, you know that, Yankee.”

Harley groaned and pulled the phone away from her ear before twisting it to speak directly into the microphone, “stop calling me that.”

“Aye, but yer a yankee, aren’t ya?”

“Laying the accent on thick, huh? You be grateful I don’t have an accent anymore. You wouldn’t be able to understand me anymore than you would an Irishmen,” she laughed.

“I’d like to hear it one day, I bet it’s lovely,” the mischief was gone from his voice and Harley registered it as pure adoration.

“I worked hard to get rid of that thing, keep dreaming.”

They spent another twenty minutes mumbling to each other before Harley hears a gruff voice demand Simon hang up and joyfully tell him he’s got a couple hundred laps to run.

“Guess I should let you write your paper,” Simon said.

“And I should let you start running. Is that legal?”

Simon laughs, “they can do almost whatever they want to us. I’ll try to call you again when I can.”

“Okay, try not to die,” Harley whispers.

“Do my best, I love you, Harley,” Simon smiles into the phone, that much Harley can tell.

“You’ll have to read my letter for your answer.” And she hangs up the phone before he can protest. In ten minutes, Harley is standing in a shop, buying an embroidered handkerchief to add to her letter.

A month later, Harley stands behind the bar at Rosario’s making drinks and conversation with regulars. It’s only three in the afternoon, so it’s a surprise when an unknown man walks into the pub. He takes up a stool directly in front of Harley and surveys her. With a hard look, she surveys him back and his face breaks into a smile.

“Simon said you were a tough one.”

Her resolve breaks and a sad smile grows on her lips.

“You know Simon,” she asked, setting down the glass in her hands lest she drop it. She’d gotten a letter three days ago but it was short and Simon hadn’t called in a few weeks. His letters claimed that phones were a privilege that his squad hadn’t earned in a while, but they couldn’t stop him from writing.

“I’m his brother, Tommy. He told me about this place last night. He sent me a fucking letter,” he laughed and leaned away from the bar, “told me I’d find a yankee manning the bar.”

Harley groaned, but nodded, “that’d be me. What can I get for you?”

Tommy tells her some complex order and she makes it as he speaks. When she sets it in front of him, his eyes widen and his hand inches towards the glass.

“What?”

“Didn’t think you’d make it. I was kind of just making it up as I went,” he said. Tommy grinned as he took a sip, finding it better tasting than he’d expected. With crossed arms, Harley leans against the back counter.

“I didn’t make it the way you said. I made a tasty rendition of what you asked for, did Simon send you here to watch me?” Her smile was forced as she watched Tommy argue with himself in his head.

“Here,” he finally said. A letter came from his pocket and he held it out to her.

Tommy, I hope you’re doing better. Mum said that you were getting help and thinking about rehab. I hope you go. We’re both better than him and you don’t need to stoop to his level of depravity. Please get all the help you can. If you are doing better, you should drive into the city. There’s a pub there called Rosario’s. A sweet yankee works the bar, Harley. Tell me how she is, really is. We write each other almost every day and I’m worried she’s not doing well in uni. She needs someone she can talk to and I think you two would get along well. She reminds me of mum before our father turned into a piece of shit. I hope you can see it too. It’ll be a week or so before I can write again, but I won’t have access to a phone for a while. Take care of yourself, mum, and Harley. Simon if you show her this, I’ll kill you.

“So how do you plan on stopping him from killing you,” she asked as she folded it and creased the folds under her nails. Tommy laughed and took another drink.

“He’ll be glad to know you’re okay. You are, right?”

Harley let out a sigh and turned to look at the mirror behind the bar. She hadn’t slept well recently, not with Simon’s short letters and the piling homework she kept putting off. Hair hung around her shallow cheeks and it wasn’t as bright as it used to be. The amber in her eyes had faded.

“Do I look okay? Are you lying to him, Tommy?” She turned back to face him and cocked her head. He looked no better than her and he tugged on the ends of his long sleeve, as if hiding something under them.

The grin on his face turned sour as he spoke, “you are like our mother. Don’t tell him. He’s proud of me for once in my fucking life and I want to keep it that way.”

“By lying to him about you getting better,” Harley scoffed with a shake of her head, “Simon deserves better than for you to lie to him about that. He loves you.”

“You don’t know anything about my brother besides some sappy shit he wrote you. But I like you, Harley. You’re good for him,” Tommy downed the rest of his drink and slapped a tenner on the bar.

“The drink’s only—”

“Keep the change. Or start me a tab. It’s a nice pub and I’d like to come back,” he said as he stood, stretching his legs before he left. Harley watched the door for a long while after it closed behind him. Tommy wasn’t a common topic for their letters, only once had Simon mentioned him outside of their initial meeting and it was to tell her that he was getting help finally.

“Har?”

Richie put a hand on her shoulder as she jumped and turned to him.

“Sorry, spaced out,” she rubbed her hands over her eyes and took the bill off the bar.

Love, They’re shipping us out to Belize for training. It should be fun, maybe a bit hot but that’s a nice change of pace from England. I don’t know how long we’ll be out there, but I won’t be able to write you for a while. Promise me that you won’t stop loving me, ever. I think our CO said something about leave after this one, so I’m planning on coming home to see you and Tommy. Simon

Simon, You couldn’t get me to stop loving you if you tried. I promise to never stop loving you. I really hope you do get some time off, you and I both need it. The MG tried to give out on me a few days ago, but Richie figured out that it needed a new starter. Damn British engineering, huh? I saw a sticker on an old Mini one time that said all parts falling from this car are of the finest British quality and I think the MG took that to heart. I passed my chemistry final by some grace of whatever god out there decided to give me a break. Now all I have left are more history classes. One of them is actually a partnership between Manchester and Glasgow so I’ll get to spend two weeks in Argyll soon. I might visit that woman I mentioned before. I found out her name was actually MacIntosh. God, I hope if you do get leave it’s not while I’m in Scotland. Call me if and when you can, please. I need to hear you. Love Yankee

Finley swooped down to the pillow beside her and cawed at her. Harley rolled her eyes, but held out the peanut she’d just cracked. The bird took it and snapped his beak as he ate it.

“It’s been a while since he wrote me,” she whispered. Finley’s head cocked back and forth at her, “I know Belize is pretty far, but it’s not too far that he couldn’t write. Do you think he’s not telling me something?”

Finley squawked at her and reached for another peanut. He cracked it open with his beak and Harley went back to reading about the history of the Scottish Highlands. She’d spent the past three hours sitting in the field, reading and musing to Finley when he chose to sit beside her. Harley knew it was just because she had peanuts to feed him, but she liked to pretend he cared about what she said to him.

“Fin, I only have three more peanuts,” she mumbled as she looked into the bag. She grabbed one of them and tossed it to the pillow Finley sat on while cracking the remaining two for herself. Finley cawed at her, indignant that she would eat them for herself, and flew off.

“Birdbrain.”

With a snap of her book, Harley stacked it atop other finished books and stood. The sun was slipping over the trees and she needed to get home to eat. The MG still struggled to start, but when it finally turned over, Harley made quick work of getting home. She shoved her key into her mailbox and flipped it open just to slam it closed.

Then flung it open again.

An envelope, fat and brand new.

Grabbing it, Harley raced up the stairs and threw her bag on the ground once she got in her door. She jumped onto her bed and tore the envelope open. Stuffed inside was a tiny tapir stuffed animal and a letter.

Harley Love They’re sending us into an active combat zone. It’s supposed to be a test to see if any of us are good enough for the Marines or the SAS. I have no idea how long we’re going to be out there but I won’t have any form of contact with anyone. I named the tapir Finley Jr. I hope it keeps you company while you’re in Scotland and while I’m away. They said we’re all getting leave once we’re done and I’m coming home to you. Some of the guys are jealous that I have you and I can’t help but laugh at them. Only a few months ago, they were all making fun of me for writing you so often. Now look at them. I remember when I showed them the handkerchief you sent. They couldn’t stop laughing, but I saw the look on James’s face. Poor sods. Harley, I can’t tell you how much I needed you when I met you. Having someone to come home to has made this entire thing easier. I love you so much. Love, Simon

It was the last letter she got.

The two weeks in Scotland were a welcome reprieve from thinking about what Simon was experiencing and why the hell they’d sent a bunch of recruits into an active war zone. Mrs. MacIntosh was even glad to have her visit for a few days before Harley made her way back to Manchester and Rosario’s.

“Harley, I ken ya love tha‘ boy, but dinnae let him eat ya up. Else there’ll be nothin’ lef’ fer him when ‘e gets home,” she’d said over her tea cup.

“I can’t stop thinking about him, I...he said that he needed me when we met but I think it was me who needed him. I wasn’t even taking school seriously before I met him,” she said as she toyed with the scone on her plate.

“Aye, but are ya even payin’ attention to school now?” Her cheeks burned as she shoved the scone in her mouth. “Hm.”

With a hard swallow, Harley spoke, “writing him letters was cathartic.”

“So write ‘im anyway. Ya dinnae have ta send ‘em. Just write ‘em,” Mrs. MacIntosh said.

“Maybe,” she mumbled.

Back home, Harley fell into a desperate routine. Wake up, don’t eat, go to class, eat because Drew forced her to, work, don’t eat dinner, barely sleep, repeat.

Regulars told her to go home, Drew and Richie stopped letting her work weekends just so she would exhaust herself into sleep finishing homework she never did. And when sleep wouldn’t take her, she wrote Simon letters she’d never send.

Richie and Drew think I’m losing it and I think they’re right. What kind of military sends kids into a war zone?

Her British history professor gave her a soft, pitiful smile. Harley knew she hadn’t paid enough attention the last two weeks, but fuck this was bad. A 56% on a midterm was almost enough to get her kicked from the class. Had it not been for the professor knowing better, Harley was sure she would have been dropped.

Academic probation.

She was a good kid, smart and did her work (mostly). School was her favorite place to be and history was her favorite subject. How the fuck had she ended up on academic probation?

I got put on probation at uni. I failed a midterm and haven’t turned in half of my homework. My papers only get written because Drew makes me write them at the pub so he can make sure I’m actually working. Tommy comes by sometimes to sit with me. He would hate me if I told you that he’s getting deeper into alcohol. He could barely stand last night and I had to cut him off. We both need you.

Another two weeks passed and Harley was starting to feel human again. Drew had forced her to sit down and talk to him about what was happening. He then got her an appointment with a therapist. Harley had only gone to two sessions before she decided to throw herself back into her pre-Simon life. The therapist was surprised at her quick revelation but pleased.

Drew made me start therapy. I only got to one session before it clicked. I mean, I knew I was the problem not you, but sometimes I guess its nice to have a professional tell you. I took off a week of work to get my late homework and papers done. My professors let me turn them all in. Sure, I only got partial credit for them, but fuck it, credit is credit. I need you to come home. You’ll miss my graduation if you stay away too long.

Tommy sat in the large booth in the corner of the pub while Harley made up drinks for him and his friends. They were moving to the bar as she set them on a tray. It had been two months since the last letter Simon had sent, but Tommy made it a habit to end up at the pub. He never said much to Harley outside of ordering drinks and food, but they watched each other. Looking for some indication the other had heard from him. It never paid off.

“You heard from Simon?” One of his friends asked. Harley’s ears always perked at the name, but was used to hearing Tommy shut them down.

Only he didn’t.

“Got a letter in the mail two days ago.”

Harley froze and the tray of drinks began to shake.

“Said Simon was missing in action. I didn’t even know he was in action.”

Missing? In action.

“Does...doesn’t that mean he’s basically dead?”

It took some practiced skill for Harley to deposit the tray onto the closest table. She stalked to her bag under the bar, bypassing Richie who’d asked her what she was doing.

Nothing was said as she threw it over her shoulder and turned. Tommy watched her, eyes widening as she passed him without so much as a glance and let the pub door swing closed behind her.

The MG started with no trouble this time. Just turned over like a dog begging for belly rubs. Every single traffic light, speed limit, and pedestrian was obeyed without thought. The drive home was long and she ignored her mailbox as she entered the building. Her lock clicked open, then closed as she dropped her bag and fell onto her bed.

Then the tears started. A sound crawled up her throat and a howl came from her lips. Once, twice, a thousand times. Tears came like a hurricane.

Simon was missing in action.

pt.1 | pt. 2 | pt.3

do I know anything about the british army? not enough to portray them accurately or with any respect.

[pectinpeeress]

I keep remembering Crime and Punishment quotes in the context of Riza Hawkeye and I know it makes no sense but hear me out

[bacchuschucklefuck]

couldnt draw my thang for mid-autumn so treated myself to a calne redesign instead

[artem1sc0re]

Woah

Aiden Pearce on a whiteboard

I feel obligated to add more to this so uhhh hands you this and runs away

[yipfrey]

every time people put shen twins au with reverse transmigration i think about that scene in lilo and stitch but shen yuan saying to shen jiu “your anger level is unusually high for someone your size we need to fix that” or something

[aria0fgold]

My thoughts will follow you

[spacespore]

hi tumblr im being MADLY OBSESSED about soc today!!! ill make some drawings in a bit im gonna finish my history hw first...

ILL POST MY DRAWINGS THIS TIME THOUGH!!!! last time.. i forgot:(

[tskumoyuuma]

did a first sketch of an oc of mine named caleb

[peachessndreamss]

Weirwood Tree

Summery : While in labour with their second child, Cregan and his wife take s short walk to the Weirwood tree to help get things moving.

Characters : Cregan Stark x f!wife reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings : Pregnancy and childbirth (nothing explicit)

Word count : 3k

A/N : Turns out you never shake being a Stark girl, Ily Cregan so much.

“I’m sorry t’say it, my lady, but your labours have slowed up,” the midwife said softly as she drew the sheets back over Lady Starks bent knees before dipping her hands in a bowl of water. 

“Slowed up?” Lady Stark repeated incredulously, dropping her head back on the feather pillow, “but it's been hours already,” she added, tears burning her eyes. 

The second child of Lord Cregan stark and his lady wife was in no rush to make their way into the world. Despite the frequency and strength of her earlier pains once the midwife and maester had been sent for, everything seemed to have come to an uncomfortable halt.  

The midwife had brought her ancient grandmother along with her, known through Winterfell and the winter town as Auld Joan, she had been a midwife in her own time and had delivered Cregan's father and uncle. She was mostly blind and deaf now but still attended births but spent most of the time sitting as close to a heat source as possible and dispensing wisdom if necessary. She was currently sitting in a chair next to the roaring fire, her ancient hands clasped on her lap, knuckles bulging out of shape and fingers curled like claws. 

“I know it's been a while,” the midwife said soothingly, placing a warm hand on Lady Stark's knee, “but sometimes it's just like this,”. 

“The last one wasn't like this,” Lady Stark grumbled, her mood darkening as she tried to shift around into a more comfortable position. 

“You mustn't compare one with another,” the midwife soothed before touching a cold cloth to the lady's forehead. 

“A walk will geyit moving ,” the old woman wheezed from her seat by the fire, “no’ this lying about,”. 

The maester, who had been mostly disinterested in proceedings up until this point shot the old woman a dark look, he was standing in the far corner of the room, a leather case of vicious metal tools clutched jealously to his chest. His grey robes matched his grey and sickly looking skin. He wasn't particularly interested in births or deaths or the everyday ailments of life and resented being summoned to the birthing room of any woman. 

“This position is agreed upon as being the correct way for labouring mothers,” he said coldly in a clipped southern accent. 

“Agreed by men who know nothing about it,” the crone grumbled. 

“What does she mean?” Lady Stark asked the midwife who was now gently feeling the swell of the lady's belly. 

“Baby's not quite in righ’ place, that's why things have slowed,” she explained as she pressed on the left side of the belly, Lady Stark winced, “but grandmother thinks a little walk might get things moving again,”. 

The midwife glanced over at her grandmother who had closed her eyes and was now looking peaceful in the flickering light of the fire, she looked back at her lady and dabbed the cloth over her cheeks before putting it back beside the bowl of cold water. 

“What do you think?”Lady Stark asked. 

She shrugged, making a point not to look towards the maester before replying. 

“It helped me with mine, and it wouldn't do you any harm,”. 

The maester opened his mouth to disagree and lady stark held up her hand to silence him. 

“Just walking through the keep, out into the godswood for the fresh air should do it,” the midwife continued. 

The lady nodded and lifted herself up onto her elbows, she addressed the maester, privately enjoying ordering the sour faced man about. 

“Lord Cregan is outside the door, fetch him in,” she said. 

Cregan Stark had paced the halls outside of his wife's rooms since he'd been asked to leave them several hours before. While he wasn't accustomed to being removed from parts of his own castle he respected that father's, even lords, were not expected to be present at the births of their children,so he was surprised to hear the door opening when he was fairly certain nothing much had happened yet. 

“My Lord?” The voice of the maester echoed off the walls as the lord strode into view, “your wife would like to see you,”. 

He nodded, his face stern as he stepped past the man and into the warm, dark room. 

“Seven Hells,” he murmured as he pulled at the collar of his shirt, instantly feeling the heat of the room rolling over him like a wave, sweat breaking out on his forehead and upper lip. 

As he looked around the room he was surprised to see the midwife helping his wife into her fur boots, a long, heavy cloak already covering her shoulders. 

“Going somewhere?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

She turned her flushed face to him and smiled. 

“Yes, we're going for a walk,”. 

Cregan’s brows rose but he nodded without further comment, knowing better than to ask questions.  He watched nervously as the midwife helped his wife to her feet, ready to spring forward at any moment if it looked like Lady Stark might lose her balance. 

Once he was happy she was safely on her feet, Cregan stepped towards them, offering his arm to his wife, who took a small step and linked her arm through his. 

“Twice around the godswood’ll do it,” Auld Joan spoke from the chair, she opened one ancient eye that could just be seen through the folds of skin that made up her face. 

“Or as far as you need’t,” the midwife added, her eyes flicking towards the maester. 

From the darkest corner of the room the maester muttered under his breath “foolishness” but no one else could hear him or pay him a moment's more attention. 

As the Lord and Lady of Winterfell stepped out of the stifling room and into the cooler corridor of the keep they both gave a sigh of relief. As they walked they instinctively drew closer to one another. Finding comfort and strength in each other's presence. 

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” Cregan said as they stepped through the door of the keep and into the much colder air of the inner bailey. The ground was a mess of mud, straw, snow and grey brown slush that cracked and crunched under their boots. 

“Yes,” she agreed, her hand tightening on his arm as her foot slipped a little on a patch of hidden ice, “Auld Joan felt this would be the best way to get things moving again,”. 

Cregan nodded, “She's seen a fair few babes born in her time, she knows what she's talking about,” he paused and took a deep breath of cold air, “I think she might have even delivered my grandfather,”. 

“Surely not!” She exclaimed, looking up at her husband's handsome profile, “that would make her more than a hundred years old,”. 

“I've heard of stranger things in these parts,” Cregan said with a shrug. 

They walked quietly together, moving slowly and carefully through the slush.

“Not as easy as last time then?” He asked as they made their way past the archery butts where the young men of the household were practising and past the stables with their snorting horses and young boys shovelling straw. 

“No, this one seems to have an obstinate Stark streak in them already,” she replied with a soft laugh that sounded like music to Cregan's ears. 

“I seem to recall your own family are known for their stubbornness so I won't be taking all the responsibility for that,”. 

“Pigheadedness, I believe my father called it,” she replied with a laugh, Cregan gave his own snort of laughter. 

“Your father certainly has a way with words,” he agreed. Recalling a few choice phrases her father had used for him during their courtship. 

As the pair crossed into the godswood the sounds of the keep and the town beyond the walls seemed to fade away and they became the only two people in the world. The ground was covered in a dusting of snow which had frozen overnight and now crunched under foot. From the dark canopy of the trees small birds sang between themselves and bounced from branch to branch, leaves rusting and falling to the ground in their wake. 

“Aly is worried we won't have enough time for her when the baby arrives,” Lady Stark said as they passed under the first dark boughs, “she kept asking me if we were going to send her away when I was putting her to bed last night,”. 

“She's a sensitive soul,” Cregan replied with a soft laugh, his mind wandering to the little girl who was at that moment playing in the same nursery he played in as a child, waiting for his own younger sibling to be born. 

“I dread the day we do need to send her away,” she lamented, drawing her body even closer to his in the cold air. Her free hand resting low on the swell of her belly. 

“We've many years before that day, my love,” he soothed, “and perhaps many more babes to fill our home,”. 

Lady Stark laughed softly, feeling the dull ache of her labours growing in strength as they followed the well known path through the trees.

“You are insatiable, always wanting more,” she said softly and Cregan laughed. 

They had been married 6 years and now were as comfortable with one another as any married couple could expect to be. Having been friends before they’re union had made things easier but the months after Cregan’s return from war had tested them to their limits. The time spent apart had been long and difficult for the both of them, when Cregan had left he was already old beyond his years but on his return he was darker and colder than the longest winter night. He’d forgotten laughter, softness and gentleness and his first few months back in Winterfell had been fraught as the two learned to live with one another again and find their way back to the happiness they’d briefly shared before the dragons tore the realm apart. 

The followed a well trodden path through the woods, her arm wrapped tightly through his and his hand resting over hers, warm and solid. As they walked, Cregan listened to her breathing, noticing every change to her breath and hitch in her voice. He was ready to take her in his arms at any moment to rush her back to the midwife if was necessary. 

They turned a corner in the path and were now on course to the weirwood tree, its ancient face seemed to watch their approach and its blood red leaves reflected in the black water at its roots. 

Suddenly Lady Stark stopped, her free hand going to her belly with a sharp intake of breath, she groaned, her teeth biting into her top lip as a strong contraction wracked her body. Cregan tightened his hold on her, fear gripping at his heart and twisting his stomach. 

After a few seconds of pain her face relaxed and her eyes opened, her cheeks were flushed with colour and despite the cold there was sweat at her hair line. 

“I think this might be working,” she said with a small smile, “or perhaps the baby can feel the tree,” she added, glancing toward the weirwood. 

“A good Stark then,” Cregan replied, forcing a lightness in his voice he didn’t feel. 

She stepped toward the tree and he followed her closely, never letting her more than an arm's reach from him. Once close enough she placed her hands on the tree, feeling the rough bark rasp against her skin. 

“Do you think the old kings of the north were born under this tree?” she asked, turning her face up as a shaft of wintery sunlight broke through the dense leaf cover, “snow and leaves for their midwife?”.

Cregan raised his eyebrow in thought for a moment before replying. 

“They were certainly conceived under it,” he smiled. �� 

“Yes, I remember the stories,” she agreed, turning to look at her husband and seeing the playful glimmer in his eyes. 

During the long months of the war she’d found comfort in the thousands of books in the Winterfell library, starting with the histories of the North going all the way back to the first men and how those ancient kings of the North did everything important in their lives in sight of a weirwood tree, they were born, married, made oaths and died as close to the trees as they possibly could. The histories had included stories of rituals the ancient peoples had contrived to conceive their children under the boughs of the weirwood trees, they believed these children would have the gifts of prophecy or live impossibly long lives because the powers of the tree flowed through them. 

“Perhaps, when you’re healed, we should try it ourselves,” Cregan teased. 

“When this one is delivered I’ll let you know if you’ll be welcome in my bed again,” she replied with a sly smile, before adding “my lord,”. 

Cregan gave a bark-like laugh, stepping closer to her and slipping his arm over her lower back and around her waist. She turned to face him, moving her hands from the ancient and cold bark of the tree to the living warmth of his shoulders, she studied his features before taking a deep breath and letting her forehead press against his. Another contraction wracked her body, she groaned and gripped tightly at the fur and wool of his cloak, taking strength from his body into her own. 

“I think we need to go back,” she said softly, their foreheads still pressed together. 

“I think so,” he agreed without hesitation.

Keeping his arm wrapped around her waist the two of them turned, she leaned heavily on Cregan as they completed the loop around the godswood and headed back through the castle courtyard. The space now almost completely empty as most of the household had been summoned for the midday meal. 

The progress was slow but they soon made it back to Lady Stark’s chambers, the room was cooler now, the windows had been thrown open but the coverings drawn across them to keep the room dark. The two women were sitting by the fire, talking quietly while the maester was still standing in the corner of the room, glaring. 

The midwife jumped to her feet and took Lady Stark’s arm, allowing her to slip from Cregan’s hold and move toward the bed. 

“How are you feeling my lady?” the midwife asked softly. 

“It helped, the pains are coming much more quickly now,” the lady replied. 

“Baby will be here soon,” the midwife agreed, “perhaps before the noon meal is over,”

Lady Stark glanced over her shoulder at her husband pausing by the door. His broad shoulders blocked out almost all of the hallway behind him.

“I want you to stay,” she said softly as she was helped back onto the bed. 

He smiled but shook his head. 

“This is not my place” he said softly, as he felt a burning sensation at the back of his throat and in his eyes as he fought the sudden overwhelm of emotions. 

“Thank you, my lord,” the old crone said from her seat, “we’ll take care of them,”.

Cregan nodded, knowing well enough when he was being asked to leave, he gave his wife a final look before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind himself and resuming his pacing. He wondered if his own father had paced nervously or if he had taken to the woods to hunt until the deed was over with and the child was cleaned and neatly wrapped in a blanket. He couldn’t imagine being any further than the castle gate while Lady Stark laboured. 

As the midwife predicted the midday meal hadn’t finished before there was the high pitched, squalling cry of a newborn that caused Cregan to stop in his tracks and lean heavily against the wall of the hallway, his hand clutching at his heart that was beating fast enough to burst. 

The door to the chambers opened and the midwife stepped out, a smile on her face as she saw her lord in a moment of unguarded emotion. 

 “A son, my lord, hale and hearty and with plenty to say for himself,” she said, the sounds of the crying child still coming clearly from the room behind her. 

“God's be praised,” Cregan said, his voice cracking with emotion. 

“Come meet him,”. 

Cregan felt his knees turn to water when he stepped into Lady Stark's rooms, the sight of his beloved wife cradling a squalling newborn was a joy that pierced his heart like an arrow. 

“Your son, my lord” she said with a tired smile, turning the bundle just enough for Cregan to be able to see the child's face. 

He stooped and took the child, cradling him close to his chest, for a few seconds the child stopped wailing, his blue eyes opening wide and taking in his first sight of his father. The two of them looked at each other for a few seconds, Cregan's own eyes filling with tears. One hot tear was about to track down Cregan's face when the baby in his arms screwed his eyes shut, opened his mouth and started to howl, his cries even more desperate than before. 

Lady Stark laughed from her seat on the bed, holding her arms out to take the child back. 

“Give him back, you're upsetting our son,” she said, grinning at Cregan who jealously clung onto the child, rocking him gently and trying to sooth the screaming babe. 

“Sorry my boy,” Cregan said softly, “but you'll just have to get used to me,”.

[poguelandiarafe]

red carpet reveal | drew starkey

pairing - drew starkey x gf!reader

warnings - none

summary - drew brings you to the outer banks season four premiere even though you're relationship is still under wraps. well, until it isn't thanks to a pushy reporter.

masterlist

--------

the 'outer banks' premiere is in full swing and you're so grateful you get to experience it with drew for the first time. you're buzzing with excitement, the flashing of cameras and excited fans screaming as the cast makes their way onto the red carpet feels surreal.

"you doing okay?" drew asks, gently squeezing your hand.

you nod, looking up at him with a smile, "more than. go shine you superstar."

he chuckles and his hand gives you another comforting squeeze before letting it go and opting to rest it on your back. the way he looks in that suit, flashing his signature smile to the cameras, makes you wonder how the hell you even let him out of the hotel room.

as drew is ushered into many different interviews, you keep to yourself, staying mostly in the background and out of shot. you don't mind this, always having preferred to watch him in his element. he talks with so much passion and excitement that you could, and do, listen to him for hours on end.

the night seems to be going perfectly until it's not. the problem? a leggy blonde who's seemed to make it her life's mission to interview your boyfriend. you claim to not be the jealous type, but you can already tell the type of questions she's going to ask by the way she stalks over to him, eyes not so subtly looking him up and down with an exaggerated smile on her face.

"so, drew," she begins, her voice already annoying you, "you're looking very handsome tonight. outer banks season four! what's it like to still be playing the hottest character on the show? you are literally the internet's boyfriend right now."

he's here with you, don't let it get to you are the words that keep repeating in your head as drew politely answers the question, but you know she's attempting to flirt with him.

"what does your family think of the show? i'm assuming they're very proud," her eyes briefly flicker over to you and she turns her attention to you, "you must be such a proud sister, right?"

you scoff, not only at the question but at the condescending way she's talking to you, like you're a child.

"uh... she's not my sister actually." drew chuckles awkwardly, his free hand coming up to scratch at his neck.

her eyebrows raise in surprise before her shrill voice cuts through the air, "oh sorry! well, it's so thoughtful of you to bring your friend to the event."

yes, you've both agreed to not directly make your relationship public, but god did you want to set the record straight. the way her hand kept grabbing his arm throughout the whole interview is making your blood boil.

before you can say anything, the interview continues and she pays you no more attention. drew's patience for this is wearing thin, but he's determined to remain professional, not wanting to go viral for lashing out at someone for doing their job.

"coming back to my earlier point about being the internet's boyfriend, how's the love life? tell us, do you have your own sofia yet or are you still available?" the interviewer asks, playful flirtation coating the words as they leave her lips.

drew's arm unloops from yours and slides around your waist to pull you slightly closer to him. he's not trying to out your relationship, just reminding you he's there.

his eyes narrow slightly in annoyance at the question, "i... uh, well it's my personal life. wanna keep it personal."

"come on, not even an inkling of an answer?" she insists.

you've had enough of this woman and, quite frankly, drew has to. he's ready to walk off but you don't let him, instead moving to face him with your back to her.

"what are you doing?" drew leans down, whispering in your ear.

before you let yourself overthink what you're doing, you grab the back of his head and pull him into a kiss. everyone around you is in shock. cameras are all turning toward the two of you, and the fans are screaming even louder now. the kiss isn't a subtle peck or quick goodbye kiss. no, it's a kiss that is telling the world he's yours and no amount of bad flirting will take him away from you.

when you pull back, your cheeks are flushed and drew has a stunned smile on his face. your eyes suddenly widen as the realisation hits you like a train of what you just did, and he can tell that a million thoughts are going through your head.

"hey, stop overthinking it. i'm glad you did it," he starts before whispering, "meant she finally shut up and stopped trying to flirt with me."

relief washes over you and your tense shoulders drop as you let yourself relax. you don't even want to think about the social media reaction right now.

"umm," the interviewer clears her throat, "i guess that answers the question."

you grab drew's hand before looking back at the woman, "i think we're done here."

[rafesangelita]

♡ rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader reevaluate their living situation now that she’s carrying a little baby in her tummy.

warnings: babydaddy!rafe, pregnancy, soooo much fluff, crying (mostly happy tears! no worries), rafe is so reassuring :(

a/n: introducing rafe’s condo to my blog.. but tanneyhill will forever be my go-to :( also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the ‘₊˚⊹♡ babydaddy!rafe x pogue!sweetheart!reader’ tag on this post!

“why do you look so sad, baby?” rafe joined you outside, bringing you a cold glass of water as he urged you to sit down on his lap. you were growing teary-eyed again, your gaze falling on the pink and white camper in front of you. taking a small sip, rafe held onto the glass for you while you wiped at your tear stained cheeks. “it’s just,” you sniffled, “i know we can’t raise a baby here, but this little thing— it’s all i’ve ever known..” you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your thigh. rafe studied you for a moment, stroking the side of your face.

“i’ve been meaning to talk about that actually,” rafe cleared his throat, “what if we didn’t go house hunting?” his words drew your attention, a hum falling from your lips. “and stay here? i would love that,” you shook your head, “but i know it’s for the best. we barely fit in there ourselves.” rafe laughed. “yeah, i know.. someone is always bumping their head when we have sex.” your cheeks heated as you slapped his arm playfully. “well to be fair, it was just me in there before you came along,” you sighed, “i can’t even imagine that now.” you pecked his cheek.

“at first, i thought maybe we could check out some houses on figure eight..” your eyes widened, your lips parting to reject his suggestion. “but,” rafe interjected, “i know that’s not really your scene.” he reassured you. “so i want to propose something else,” both of you looked at each other, “i’ve been working on this blueprint, m’thinking we just get our house built out here. you could design the kitchen however you want, whatever would be best for you and your baking, we can put the nursery together, do the whole thing y’know. go the whole nine yards.” you swallowed thickly, tears pricking your eyes.

“you have a blueprint?” you smiled, your vision becoming blurry as rafe nodded. “yeah, you wanna see?” you whispered a ‘yes, please!’ before he guided you inside. he reached for a spot you couldn’t reach in your cabinet, unraveling the blueprint in question. “see, right here? i thought you’d like the kitchen to have big window facing the backyard, oh, and right here!” he pointed a finger, “we could have shelves built into the walls for the baby’s room, we could even have a reading nook for bedtime stories..” your heart felt so full right now, you swore it could burst at the seams.

“what’s this empty space right here in the backyard?” you held up the paper, pointing to a spot where a little white heart was drawn. “..that would be where your camper goes.” your head shot in his direction, your eyebrows knitting in confusion. “what do you mean?” you put the blueprint down, turning around while he caged you between his arms. “i think we should build the house just right out front, you don’t have to move anything, relocate the camper, none of that. i could start getting the brush cleared out as soon as next week.” you blinked, your brain trying its best to piece everything together.

“you thought of all of this in the two weeks since we found out?” your hands snaked up his chest until your arms wrapped around his neck. rafe embraced you, his eyes shutting at the sweet scent of your perfume. “i told you, you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. i’m taking care of everything.” you breathed him in, both of you rocking softly as the wind chimes sung outside in the light breeze. you two stayed in a comfortable silence, the image of watching the sunset together on the porch of your own house with a baby on your hip flooded both of your minds.

“it’s perfect.” you looked up at him, smiling when he pecked the tip of your nose. “the three of us, huh?” rafe loved the way that sounded rolling off of his tongue. “mhmm,” you let out a shaky breath, “the three of us.”

[crushpunky]

drew visits actress!reader (+ jealousy ensues)

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

a follow up to drew and actress!reader feel the distance, however you don’t need to have read it. only thing to know is actress!reader is in a rom-com with tom blyth + drew is visiting her. warning for some sexual content, but nothing real :)

Y/n woke up early to get to set, insisting that Drew stay behind and catch up on lost sleep caused by his flight to meet her. He reluctantly agreed, spending the morning in y/n’s temporary apartment before coming to set to meet her on her lunch break.

“Come in!” Y/n shouted as she heard knocking at her trailer door. Drew opened the door, a grin on his face and arms full of food from her favorite taco place.

“Hello, my love. How was this morning?” Drew said as he entered y/n’s trailer, pressing a kiss to her head as he sat the food down on the table.

“Good. We shot mostly on the apartment set.” Y/n said, taking her food out and starting to dive into the foil. The sweet scent of cilantro filled y/n’s trailer as she took a bite, moaning as she savored the flavors. Drew chuckled, biting into his own tacos.

“So… are you planning on staying around set?” Y/n asked, her eyes remaining focused on her food in front of her, avoiding Drew’s face.

“Uh, yeah… if that’s alright with you.” Drew said with a quirk of his brow, his mouth full of food. Y/n nodded, flashing Drew a grin that didn’t quite meet her eyes. As happy as she was to see Drew, and to have him on set, the timing of the shooting schedule was a bit awkwardly unfortunate…

“Yeah, yeah, of course…” y/n said, trailing off and taking another small bite of her tacos. Drew’s brow furrowed, putting his food down before reaching across the table, taking y/n’s hand in his own.

“If you don’t want me to stay I don’t—” Drew said lowly, his thumb tracing gently along her knuckles.

“No, no. Of course I want you to say it’s just—” y/n ran a hand down her face with a groan, “we’re filming the scene today and… I don’t know, it might just be kinda weird is all.”

Drew’s face dropped slightly, a small noise of realization falling from his lips. When y/n was talking with him before taking this role, she’d mentioned that there were a few rather intimate scenes involved. She’d expressed some worry to him; worry about being so exposed on camera with an actor other than the actor she was in a relationship with. Drew, however, was more than supportive, encouraging her to go for it if it was what she wanted. Encouraging her that he trusted her just like she’d supported him on his own projects that required intense scenes.

“Hey, hey, I don’t want you to have to worry about me, a’ight? I’ll be ok.” Drew said, a slight grin on his lips as he squeezed y/n’s hand lightly. Y/n took in a deep breath, squeezing Drew’s hand back before wiping her mouth off with a napkin.

“Alright, alright. I love you and… I want you to stay. Please.” Y/n whispered. Drew nodded, flashing her a wide smile before lifting her hand to his lips.

“Y/n! We need you in hair and makeup in 5!” A sudden knock on the door interrupted them, causing the two of them to jump slightly.

“Coming!” Y/n shouted back, pressing a quick kiss to Drew’s head before heading to the door. Her hand rested on the handle for a second, turning back to look at Drew one last time.

“I love you.” Y/n said, a small but nervous look in her eyes as her eyes gazed over Drew.

“I love you, too, baby. You’ve got this.” Drew smiled back. With a final deep breath, y/n opened the door and headed to hair and makeup, ready to take on the scene that had been oh-so-present in the back of her mind.

Y/n adjusted her hair, smoothing down the front of her outfit one last time as the camera operators got into position. She stood in the kitchen of the apartment set, her co-star Tom just on the other side of the front door. The set up for the scene was that Tom’s character, James, was coming back to y/n’s character, Allison, after a tumultuous night that resulted in the two of them nearly crossing their carefully constructed line as friends.

“Alright, everyone in positions, please. Those not cleared to remain on set need to exit now.” The director shouted, setting himself up behind one of the cameras as the crew other than those deemed necessary for the scene exited the set. 

Tom and y/n had worked with an intimacy coordinator prior to shooting, figuring out every detail of the scene and ensuring all those involved were comfortable, especially herself and Tom. The two of them had gotten close while shooting, the awkward tension having mostly dissipated and allowing for the two of them to act as a believable couple without overthinking every minute detail. All of those discussions and time spent together led to this, a scene where they bared their souls (and bodies) to each other and the camera. After one last talk with the crew, Drew was cleared to stay behind, Tom more than willing to do whatever it took for y/n to feel most comfortable in their intimate scene.

Y/n spared Drew one last glance, him shooting back a thumbs up from behind the camera crew before settling into his seat. With a final deep breath, she turned back to face the door.

“Ok, and… action!” The director shouted, the cameras rolling as Tom knocked on the door.

“Coming!” Y/n said, placing her prop phone down on the table before making her way to the door. As she opened it, her eyes widened at Tom’s face.

“I… I can’t keep doing this, Allison.” Tom said lowly, taking a slow step towards y/n. Y/n took in a shaky breath, taking only a small step back as Tom grew closer.

“What? What are you talking about?” Y/n whispered, swallowing harshly as her eyes lingered on Tom’s lips.

“I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends.” Tom said, his jaw tense.

“I can’t either.” Y/n whispered. As soon as the words left her mouth, Tom’s lips were on hers. Her hands raised, cupping Tom’s cheeks as the two of them stumbled back into the apartment. Tom’s hands were all over her, holding her waist flush to himself as they continued kissing even as Tom closed the door. He spun her around, pressing y/n’s back against the door as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Behind the camera, Drew watched hesitantly, chewing at his bottom lip as Tom reached under y/n’s shirt, pulling it off to reveal the lacy purple bralette she was wearing. His lips immediately attached to her neck, y/n’s hands grabbing firmly onto Tom’s hair.

“James…” Y/n groaned, grabbing at the hem of Tom’s shirt before pulling it over his head. Her nails traced down Tom’s back as he pulled her away from the door, carrying her across the set until laying her down on the couch.

The scene continued on, the two actors performing their carefully practiced routine until the two of them were down to their nude colored modesty garments. They moved in sync until the scene reached its peak, the moment in which their characters finally said the words they’d been dancing around for so long.

“I love you.” Tom whispered against y/n’s neck as he pressed his body against her heaving chest. Drew found himself gripping the armrest of his chair, the sinking feeling in his stomach betraying every rational thought he had in his mind. He trusted Tom and he definitely trusted y/n, so why was he feeling like this?  

“I love you.” Y/n cried, burying her face in Tom’s neck with a sigh. Drew closed his eyes, swallowing harshly as he ran a hand down his face before standing from his chair. He rushed off the set, needing desperately to clear his racing thoughts before talking to y/n.

“Cut! That was perfect!” The director shouted from behind the camera. “We’re gonna check over the footage but I think we got it.”

As soon as the words left the directors mouth, Tom climbed off of y/n, reaching behind the couch for the cleverly hidden robes. Y/n sat up on the couch, smoothing her hair back as she took her robe from Tom.

“Nice job. Great as per usual.” Tom grinned as the two of them shrugged on their robes before offering his hand out to help y/n to her feet. Finally securely wrapped in her robe and off of the intensity of the scene, y/n eyes looked for Drew in his spot behind the camera, only to be greeted with an empty chair. Her face fell, a small breath falling from her lips as she hurried towards the crew.

“Where’d he go?” Y/n asked frantically, glancing at the director, who pointed out the back exit. Y/n ran through the door, her eyes immediately finding Drew. He sat on a bench, his head in his hands and back to her. His shoulders rose and fell slowly, his breathing deliberate as he tried his best to calm down.

“Drew?” Y/n said quietly, approaching Drew hesitantly. He lifted his head, his eyes wide as he looked up at her concerned face.

“Hey, I uh— I just needed some… fresh air.” Drew sighed, his voice betraying him as it cracked slightly. Y/n felt her stomach drop, the turmoil in Drew’s mind prevalent on his face as he tried his best to maintain his composure. With a sigh, y/n took a seat next to Drew, taking his hand. She held it lightly, her fingers tracing along the cool metal of his rings.

“Drew—” Y/n began.

“You guys did a good job.” Drew said lowly, his eyes finally meeting hers again. Y/n swallowed harshly, gnawing at her bottom lip as she looked back at him.

“Thanks…” Y/n nodded. “Are you okay?”

“I, um… I will be.” Drew sighed, running a hand through his hair. Y/n frowned, her heart breaking at the defeated tone of Drew’s voice. She felt horrible. Sure, she knew it was her job, and Drew had said he was okay with it, she couldn’t help but blame herself for the clear distress he was in.

“I’m sorry, Drew, I—” Y/n stammered, but was cut off as Drew shook his head harshly.

“No, no, don’t. Don’t apologize for doing your job.” Drew said. “If anything I should apologize for being… unprofessional.”

Y/n sighed, raising her hands to cup the sides of Drew’s face. He looked back at her, his hands naturally finding their place on her hips as her eyes bore into his.

“You’re allowed to feel… jealous, Drew.” Y/n whispered, causing Drew’s gaze to fall to the space between them as he closed his eyes. He shook his head slightly, biting at his bottom lip before lifting his eyes to meet hers again. He found himself trying to bite back a flustered grin, laughing at himself as he reflected back on the intense reaction he’d felt at the sight of someone touching y/n, even if it wasn’t real. Yeah. It was over for him. She was it, there was no denying it.

“You really messed me up, y’know that?” Drew chuckled. “I thought I was gonna throw up watching you guys… that’s some real rom-com shit.”

“It just means you must really like me.” Y/n said, a teasing smirk spreading across her lips as Drew tried to fight back his own grin before pressing his lips to hers. She felt a familiar buzz in her head, the light feeling that was noticeably absent when she was kissing Tom… but was always there each time Drew’s lips were on hers.

[s-grunge]

A very special day has arrived. April Fools? Never heard of it.

It's Cody's Birthday!

Can you believe this guy turns 34 this year?

Long rambles and extra pictures below the cut

Maybe I got a bit ambitious with the composition, especially since I was scrounging for time to get this done (we had quite a busy month) which meant I couldn't focus on details as much. But I knew I wanted to make something that felt significant for my boi.

I initially planned to include even more characters; the entirety of Gen 1 and a handful of others, but I knew that would've been too much for me to handle.

So I left on the cutting room floor-

The characters who Cody is on more negative terms with canonically (Duncan, Courtney, Alejandro)

Katie and Sadie (Sorry)

All but three of the post Gen 1 characters.

It's also the one year anniversary of posting my Total Drama art. Not that it's an especially significant thing to note, but it's pretty cool nonetheless.

Here are some alternate renders.

The background is mostly just a mix of background tiles & tones in MediBang, as well as overlays and decorative brushes.

Next are the characters laid out individually and transparently (Sans Justin, Trent, DJ and Lightning as they're egregiously incomplete below the shoulders (At least they have a full head, which is more than can be said of Zeke or Sierra))

Cody & Dawn and LeShawna & Beth were drawn on the same layer, so I can't really separate them.

Geoff, Izzy and Tyler are just very small.

Some characters get cool outfits, some get very light redesigns, a couple look pretty much how they do in the show.

Izzy is dressed as a piñata, because why wouldn't they be?

Harold's look is very loosely based on Beat from JSRF

LeShawna's design is based on a look she has in Dramarama.

I can't draw Gwen the same way twice.

Nobody else has any specific inspirations for their looks.

Now that I think of it, the centre of the drawing is not dissimilar to what I drew last year. Similar compositionally, but different contextually.

Kinda embarrassing to look at my older art now, but that just means I'm super happy with the stylistic evolution. You can tell I've gotten more comfortable with the way I draw TD characters.

Anyway, enough of my rambling.

Happy Birthday Cody!