#quick sketch I said so that I could show something for two days of the week LOL

[omaano]

For Day 7 AU/Freebie of @dincobbweek - I don't feel like cleaning this up, but I really wanted to take the chance to go wild with some tattoos here.

Special thanks to @tosye for helping with brainstorming (even though a good part of them is covered up) and for the motivation to finish this <3

#dincobb #dincobb week #dincobbweek2022 #my art #cobb vanth #din djarin #the mandalorian fanart #I didn't suffer an hour with Cobb's arm to later realize that that would be the arm he maybe loses #so I'll just make a note for myself that all those tats are supposed to be on the other arm #I don't hate myself that much #so he got a scar way too low and we'll be just ignoring that one yeah? #I had to pull up so many of my own pics here for reference it wasn't even funny XD #quick sketch I said so that I could show something for two days of the week LOL #I'm not putting variations of my sister's tattoo on my faves not at all #I need to sleep now it's 3 am wtf #waaaay past my usual posting time T^T

[miyu-d]

Ace with the tailor reader part 2

A/N: @boomboom-tanjiro2019 it made me so happy when you requested a part 2. Here it is. I'm sorry it took me some time. Hope you'll enjoy this...

[ Part 1 ]

Everyone was so happy about Ace's arrival and threw a party to celebrate. They were talking and laughing so loudly when you went there after finishing your work. It was more lively than other days. Chopper was showing his chopstick dance to Ace, and he was laughing at it. Then Sanji came out of nowhere and served you a drink.

"Neeehhh~ Y/N-chwan! I brought you your favorite..."

"Thank you, Sanji-kun." You smiled and took the drink.

When you gave your attention back to Ace, he was already looking at you, resting his chin on his hand. A spark ran through your body, and your legs felt a little numb when you saw the way he was looking at you. A small smile curled in the corner of his mouth. His eyes were talking, looking deep into your soul. That moment was so intimidating; you felt time had stopped, and only two of you were in the room. You looked back into Ace's eyes with the same passion, subconsciously. Only a few seconds passed, but it felt like forever.

You snapped out of it when you heard Chopper screaming and yelling. Both of you immediately broke the eye contact and looked at him. You got relaxed for a moment when you saw it was nothing serious, just Luffy playing with Chopper.

But you didn't have the guts to look back at Ace again. You walked towards a seat in the corner, hoping no one else saw what happened between you and Ace.

(Actually, only Robin saw it. She giggled a little to herself and went back to reading her book.)

At night, you went to the spot on the ship where you loved to sit and draw new designs while enjoying the sea breeze. You kept thinking about what kind of outfit you could make for Ace. Even though you had so many ideas when you first met him, now you can't imagine him wearing anything other than his significant outfit—no top, just a short with some accessories.

You leaned back more comfortably and looked out at the calm sea. After a few minutes passed, you let out a huge sigh and opened your sketch book. You felt the presence of someone, so you lifted your head up and looked. You saw Ace watching you, leaning over the railing.

"How long have you been there?"

"Not so long," Ace said, slowly walking towards you. "So... what are you doing there?"

"Nothing special. Just... trying to design some new clothes, I guess..."

"Can I see?"

He was really interested in it. So you showed him your designs and explained them to him. You had no one to talk to about this before. So you enjoyed telling him everything. You talked his ears off. Ace also enjoyed listening to your ramblings. He shared his thoughts about them too... You two became more comfortable with each other.

"I don't like this one."

"Whaaaaaaat?? That is one of my favorites."

"But it's too plain."

"That makes it more elegant."

"Add some sequins or something."

"Nope. Not gonna happen. This is perfect."

Ace gave you a pouty face. He sat down on the floor and started to mutter to himself.

"Oh, come on, Ace~" You also went and sat down next to him. "Fine, I will design a new dress the way you want. So leave that one alone. Okay?"

He stayed pouty.

"Okay?" You peaked to see his face. "Hmm?"

He kept hiding his face from you.

You signed and gave up on pestering him. You leaned on your back and looked up at the sky.

...

"Why do you care about it anyway? Do you want it for your girlfriend or something?"

"What? No!! I don't have anyone!!! It's just..." He blushed and looked away. "I thought it would... look good on you that way."

"Maybe... maybe that plain one, that one you called elegent, or something is also... look good on you."

He gave you a quick look, checked what you were wearing, and looked away again. "That one also looks good on you.."

Ace was so flustered. "Anything looks good on you." He was really a flustered mess.

You tried your best not to laugh. You wondered where that cool and firm Ace had gone. But you loved this side of him more.

You slowly put your head on his shoulder and whisper, "I think anything looks good on you too."

He slowly tilted his head and looked at you. You smiled at him. He blushed and looked away. You couldn't help but chuckle.

You had no idea how you got the confidence to act like this, taking the lea and all. But somehow, you could.

"Let's go" You pulled him by his hand and started walking.

"Where are we going?" Ace let you pull him and followed you.

"You are my new and first fashion model. I'm gonna make you the best outfit ever. (Y/N)'s designs, special edition, one and only, only for you, Ace collection, first outfit."

Both of you chuckled and walked to your sewing room, holding hands and swinging them back and forth.

Masterlist

#Sorry if you felt cringy while reading this 😂 #i have my final exams in a month and my head is a mess #Thank you for reading #one piece x reader #ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d. ace #one piece #op #one piece x you

[solara-bean]

Hello! I saw you fan fiction of the Wolf and thought it was too cute not to make fanart of. Hope you like this quick little sketch of your art Y/N.

OH MY GOD!!! THAT'S BEAUTIFUL!! I'M GONNA CRY THANK YOU SO MUCH😭💕💕💕💕

This really got me thinking of how Death would react to it so here you go☺️

Y/n's mood improved exponentially after their encounter with Death. Their friends, although still in shocked and horrified that they unknowingly let their pal spend time with such an entity, were happy to see them doing better. Y/n made sure to have more fun and relaxation like the wolf had encouraged. Before they knew it weeks turned to months and still no creation was made. They tried not to let it bother them. ' Let it come naturally', they remembered.

Then in a sudden burst of power they got it! Something fun and simple for them to make and possibly put into a gallery: art pieces for the colors of the rainbow. They loved exploring colors so this was perfect. Now all they had to do was think of a subject for each color. Red was first. It was a no-brainer on what the subject would be since it was always on their mind anyway.

They finished it in two days, taking their time and loving every second of it. It was evening when they'd finished cleaning everything up. They were pondering on what to have for dinner when a knock came at the door. They couldn't help but gawk when they saw who was waiting for them.

" Hello little red."

" It's you!" they exclaimed, pulling Death in for a hug. " I can't believe you're really here."

" I'm here querida," he held them gently, " I'm here. Sorry it took me so long."

" No apology needed. I'm just happy you're back." they guided him inside by the hand. " Come in. I was just about to get dinner ready."

" Ooo, what's on the menu?"

" Not quite sure yet, but I've got a few ideas. I can get you something to drink while you wai-" they came to a halt, " Hm?" looking back at Death, they saw his gaze fixed on something.

The canvas covered by a tarp, resting against the wall amongst closed paint cans.

' Oh no.' Y/n thought.

But it was too late. Death had already been looking at them with an overly amused grin.

" You made something." his voice was full of endearment.

" I did." they let go of his hand to wipe off their sweaty palms on their clothes.

" Well aren't you gonna show me?"

" Uuuhh...no."

The wolf made a mock sound of offense, hand clasped over his chest.

" Why? You aren't going back on our deal are you?" he sighed.

" No! Not at all."

" Then why can't I see it?" he leaned in, eyes curious and ears perked.

" Because..." they sighed." I'm worried you won't like it. I'm still a bit rusty you know and uh," they rubbed the back of their neck and averted his gaze," it's kinda about you."

Death's brows shot up.

" Me?"

" Mhmm"

After a few quiet moments, he carefully took hold of their face and gave them to softest look he could muster.

" I'm sure it's amazing." he got closer and rubbed his fluffy cheek against the side of their face, a low growl similar to a purr was heard. "Please give me the honor of seeing it first."

That's all the encouragement Y/n needed. With shaky steps and sweaty palms, they marched over and ripped off the tarp the same way you'd rip off a bandaid. Then they waited. And waited. And waited some more. Dear god this was torture! They finally mustered the strength to look at him and he was just...standing there. Eyes wide and no tell to what emotion he was feeling.

" S-so uh...what do you think?"

Still nothing. Was he even breathing??!

" It's the start of a series for every color of the rainbow. Red's first and your eyes are the prettiest red I've ever seen so- Oh my god please just tell me you hate it so I can-"

" I love it."

Y/n could've swore their heart stopped.

" What?"

" I..love it." he said again. Then a wide smile spread across his face. " I love it!"

In seconds Y/n was scooped up into the most crushing yet safest hug ever. They both laughed as he spun them around.

" Really? You really like it?"

" Yes of course I do! It's amazing." He pulled back to look them in the eyes. " You're amazing. I'm so proud of you Y/n."

Y/n sniffed and buried their face in his cloak to hide the tears that were forming. They remained like that for awhile, content as ever.

" How long will be staying?" they asked not bothering to move and neither did he.

" A week. Is that enough time for you querida?"

Y/n pulled away to give him a small peck on his nose.

" It's perfect."

#puss in boots the last wish spoilers #wolf puss in boots #puss in boots wolf #puss in boots death #puss in boots death x reader #puss in boots wolf x reader #seriously thank you this is really good art #you got his eyes perfectly #I really want that kitty mug

[ronearoundblindly]

Threadbare (2)

Steve Rogers x Fashion Designer!Reader

Part Two: Strain Curve (see previous or series)

IMPORTANT: I forgot to mention and link that this started with an anon ask, so I should give them credit for the idea. Here's where this all started! Additionally, Richard Fisk is an actual Marvel character and the son of Kingpin. All that is straight out of the comics (and animated shows), down to the horrible color choices.

Summary: Steve shelters you from Fisk while attempting to hide the truth from Tony. He's not a great liar...but how much of this is really fake?

Warnings for fluffy fluff of the 21st-fluffery with a teeny bit of angst, 100% idiots in love! Also a quick disclaimer about me knowing exactly diddlysquat about fashion design. I binged 'Next In Fashion' and so this is the best I got lol... WC 4066

You watch Steve blush at your attempted smile. He paws at the back of his head before gathering another confession.

“Actually, I do have—I mean, yes, I wanted to see you, but uh—“ he rushes over to fetch a paper bag he must have stashed as he snuck in behind the cops “—I did have a reason to come.”

In the bag, you find three shirts, and your smile turns more genuine.

“Of course, you did. How romantic.”

You’re still awash with adrenaline; there’s no filter to keep your teasing at bay. You can barely pick up that you said anything anyway.

Steve shrugs, looking down to take back the shirts as Abby returns with a glass of water for you. “Not my best move.”

You chug the water, loudly, unable to regulate how desperately you need it. Abby gently pries Steve’s shirts from his tense arms.

“Right.” Steve rolls his shoulders out, straightening and clearly falling into Captain mode. “We need to get you somewhere safe. I just have to make a few calls and—“

“Don’t tell Stark,” you blurt, hand instinctively grabbing the wrist that holds his phone ready. “I’m sorry. That sounded like an order, just…please don’t tell Mr. Stark.” Tony can’t know that Fisk has been using you as a tailor as well. He can’t. 

Alarm and curiosity flicker behind Steve’s blue eyes, but he hides it well immediately. “Ok. I’ll—” he makes no move to take his arm back “—think of something.”

“And I have three clients left…for the day.”

Abby tsks you from behind though it’s the truth. The empty glass rattles on the tabletop with your faint tremor.

Steve thinks for a prolonged, squinting moment. “After work then. I’ll pick you up.”

You run off adrenaline and butterflies the rest of the day, and yes, whatever liquids or snacks Abby and Dominica (when she returns from her errand) put into your hand along the way, but mostly it’s the fluttering anticipation of Steve that floats you through.

And then he’s back and it’s already dark outside.

“Oh shit,” you burst, politely showing Mr. Chen out while Steve waits his turn to get in the door. He says nothing, but Captain America lowers his head in disapproval at your curse. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. Let me grab some things.”

You race up the stairs to the apartment over the shop. Your clientele and brand used to be small enough that you could keep those two sides of life separate, but slowly, your work has crept into your living space. Now you survive from a dresser, a hanging rack, and a Murphy bed that doubles as a small desk when it’s upright against the wall.

Not much of an existence, but it’s very practical.

You’re shuffling around with an overnight bag and a dump tote to grab mostly work things and two changes of clothes. One of your assistants can bring you more stuff if/when necessary, but it feels presumptive to think you’ll live out of a safe house for long.

“So…working to live or living to work?”

You jump at Steve’s deep voice from the open doorway. He looks around at the hodgepodge of work benches and mannequins lining the walls.

“It’s a fluid and evolving situation,” you admit, sweeping several binders of fabric swatches and sketch pads into the tote. You eye a work-in-progress on one of the dummies and decide against trying to take it. Too bulky.

In order not to keep Steve waiting, you hand over the tote and head to the car, texting Abby and Dominica instructions the whole drive. Steve assures you that you’ll still have wifi and freedom to communicate, so you don’t have to clear fittings and consults off the books. It simply won’t be wise to invite welcome clients into where you’re staying.

Admittedly, that’s very generous considering you could have been looking at a blackout, witness-protection level of hiding.

You’re still on your phone when Steve opens your car door, and you shuffle with your duffel, his feet at the edge of your periphery to follow. It doesn’t register that you walk down a long hall. It doesn’t register that there’s an elevator ride and another voice. It doesn’t register that you’re looking at a kind of hostel-esque apartment inside another building until you ask if there’s a space you’ll be able to spread out for work.

Steve glows with pride that he thought of that and walks you to a conference room…surrounded by glass…overlooking a 30-story high view of the city.

You’re in the Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower.

“Wait, he’s not supposed to know.”

Steve gets your confusion right away. “Tony doesn’t, but without filing paperwork stating the reason you need a safe house, this was the best—“

“Sheers!” the booming voice of one Tony Stark reverberates across 360 degrees of windows. “I thought it might be you.”

“Might be me for what?” you ask as innocently as possible.

“As Capsicles’ first, of course.”

Steve hangs his head while his pal claps him on the back.

“First use of his guest pass that is. Granted, I’ve been saying for years we need an in-house tailor, but no takers…” Stark fake-punches Steve’s shoulder. “Way to break the ice, buddy. I’m proud of you. What happened? You noticed you’re both workaholics and needed your girl…closer to get closer, did you? Good call.”

Steve shoots wary eyes your way, silently praying you ignore that remark or maybe checking you’re okay with the implication. The way Stark says ‘your girl’ as if he’s heard it several times before though…

“Something like that,” you shrug. 

“At least he finally asked you. I kept telling him to shit or get off the pot.”

“Language,” you hiss quietly.

The men look a little shocked for a split second before slowly turning to each other, a silent conversation passed in the empty space over your head. Whatever just happened seems to have really convinced Tony because a wry smile flickers beneath his sinking, pale sunglasses. Yes, of course, Tony Stark is wearing sunglasses at night, just as, of course, Captain America is willingly deceiving Stark to be your fake boyfriend. 

“Romeo,” the building’s namesake coos. “Training them young, I see.”

Steve’s jaw and neck tighten, a raging flush creeping up his pale skin, but he doesn’t argue. Stark buys the ploy, which is great, but in reality, Steve doesn’t even have your personal number.

Tony lifts his hands in surrender and starts retreating to the door. “Look, I hate to take credit—“

“No, you don’t.”

Incredulous, sagging eyebrows dip below his frames. “—but I am very, very good.” He points a finger back and forth between you and Steve. “You’re welcome.”

He tries to peek under a pile of sketches atop your work tote, and you rush to slap your hand down. Stark might see the other designs you’re working on, and just like he can’t know about Fisk, he can’t know about those.

“Fine.” Tony puts his hands up again. “I’m going.”

Steve steps to your side, apology loud in his eyes, and asks if he can make you tea or something stronger, ya know, because Tony has that effect on people.

“Yeah—“ you stare off toward the elevators where Stark remains lurking “—he’s still there,” you whisper.

Steve huffs a laugh and shifts to bridge the mere inches left between you, his hand gently landing on your upper arm and planting a kiss on your forehead like a breeze.

“Better make it look good then.”

Turns out you need tea and food.

You’d been so reliant on your assistants for nourishment that you forgot dinner. Steve sees; he has it covered. Instead of winding down after a trying day, however, you get a rush of energy, and you can’t squander the chance to make crucial adjustments. Every minute counts in the lead-up to Fashion Week.

“May I join you?” Steve asks, ready to walk away with his meal in hand should you prefer. “I won’t take up much space.” He looks down at his shoes and up the two inches above his head to the top of the doorframe. “Ok, much more space,” he corrects.

“You wanted to leave me alone?”

He bites back a smile and shakes his head, settling into the least cluttered corner.

He chats excitedly as you both eat, but after failing to pry some answers about Fisk from you,—‘are you often threatened by clients?’ and ‘can you steer him in another designer’s direction?’—Steve slips away to grab his own art supplies.

You’ve barely looked up until you get a surge of inspiration and search for your colored pencils under the pile of templates. How did they get all the way over there? Since when are red and grey so worn down? Weren’t you needing to replace both blues soon?

“Those in your way? I can move them?”

Steve stops sketching, holding a yellow pencil, the only color missing from the tin. That’s when you realize. He uses the same brand of pencils you do—tools made of quality materials but nothing overly fancy.

“No need,” you marvel. “I just mistook them for my own.”

Steve sweeps a large hand out in offering. “Mistake away.”

You can’t help it. You chew your lip to calm your grin. He’s simply a very giving man who enjoys simple things. It’s refreshing.

“Or we could trade? We seem to use the opposite colors the most.”

“Right,” Steve laughs, “I went on a tear trying for Sam’s suit in-flight. Never turned out.” Shaking his head dislodges a lock of hair, so he runs his fingers through the strategic coif.

“Hmm,” you hum absently, engrossed by his picturesque appearance, “my drawings are more like guidelines for my imagination. No need to be precise.”

“A sentiment I’ve heard many times before.” He slides the tin closer to the midway point between you. “I just want to do beauty justice, which sounds pretentious but…

“Point is—“ Steve lifts his gaze to you with a soft shrug “—use whatever you like.”

You thought your work habits were grueling, but poor Steve flits around at all hours of the day and night with workouts, training, meetings, and missions. He mostly gets to do drive-by waves of ‘hello’ as he travels the building past your glass bubble, always with a smile, always with a tinge of something else. He’s an easy man to read: you can tell when he’s fatigued (in spirit though, not body), you can tell when he’s irritated from stress, and you can tell when he wants to linger but has to go.

It’s incredibly cute. Steve Rogers is just so damn cute.

You continue with business as usual as best you can, video calling during consults and the most critical fittings. Clients aren’t exactly happy with your absence, but they don’t dare complain when the alternative is waiting another month for you to schedule in person. Besides, there are oftentimes you step away from routine appointments to focus on creating new lines.

Dominica is allowed to walk right in with any of your requested supplies since she’s delivered to Stark several times before. She stays for a few hours to touch base. She assures you that Tarik is no longer unnerved by the police car that sits at the curb outside the atélier’s front door. Apparently, Abby takes the cops coffee a couple times a day.

All in all, it’s going well.

One day, you think Steve is showing up for one of your ‘sketch sessions’—where he sits in his own chair somewhere around the huge oval table and quietly works alongside you—but not today.

“They…it’s…” Steve plants his feet on the carpet across from you and looks behind him nervously. Anytime other people are near the room, he walks right over to you to kiss your cheek, a show to keep up the appearance of actually being a couple, but it’s late enough that no one is around. “We do movie night—we’re doing movie ni—we’re watching a movie if you’d like to join?”

You’re tempted to tease him, ask ‘where’s my kiss’ or something that makes that fiery blush creep up Steve’s face, but you grin back. “Sure. I could use the break.”

Honestly, no, you should be hammering out some details for the lapels of this blazer, but ehh, you’re also tired of staring at the same damn jacket.

Of course, this means the lot of them save you and Steve seats beside each other on a couch. You two have only ever sat in chairs in front of or separated by a table, so figuring out how to curl up next to the man you are not dating is an adventure in micro-expressions. You share a look that lasts about two seconds but contains a forty-five-minute discussion of how far is okay to take this and agree that you want to keep up the charade.

Thus, Steve lifts his arm to drape across your shoulders, and you lean into his chest.

It’s a good fit, good enough that you wake up two hours later not knowing what the movie was about and starting to sweat from being so close to his very warm body.

Maybe it’s the eye convo or maybe napping directly on him tells Steve how comfortable you are with him, but either way, he changes to giving a kiss on the cheek or forehead every instance he sees you, no exceptions.

After a week of remaining on the same floor of the same skyscraper and doing nothing but working, sleeping, and movie-sleeping, you’re at your wit’s end, longingly staring out the window at the city below.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Steve asks as he enters the conference room. Forehead kiss this time. His lips feel soft and warm as they ghost over your skin.

“Stuck,” you mutter.

His hand smooths across your back. “Well, how do you normally get unstuck?”

“I go for a walk through the park.” You know you can’t go outside, but it’s difficult to wrangle every bit of bitterness at your captivity. You appreciate all Steve is doing to make it so Fisk can’t get to you, but you need fresh air.

Steve sighs like he’s mad at himself before spinning around the room. “Right.” He grabs your hand. “Come with me.”

In the elevator, Steve explains that in keeping with the eco-friendly intent of the new clean energy tower, Tony made half of the rooftop a greenhouse and the other half a garden. The walking paths are all moss-covered, but there are no benches. Just outside the elevator doors are folding chairs, and Steve grabs two.

On separate chairs with no table in sight, you two watch the sunset on the other side of the building from your work room. You take in a big breath of the chilly air and shiver, completely content to experience freedom away from climate control, but Steve rushes back into the greenhouse to retrieve a blanket from the stack beside the chairs.

“Here ya go,” he stumbles, leaning to tuck the fabric around you. “I should have brought us tea or something,” but when he makes to leave this time, you take his hand.

“You’ll miss it.” He’s probably seen the view from here a million times before, but you don’t want him to go. “Stay,” you say in a whisper.

Steve visibly softens, shoulders dropping, eyes alight. “Yeah?” He sits again and looks at the nearly cloudless sky. “Yeah.” He slouches to get comfy in the small and unsupportive chair, but he looks so at home bathed in the warm pink light. “Each time’s a bit different but—“ he turns to you, smiling “—this one’s better.”

Since the sunset sit-down, Steve makes a point to pry you away from the work area when he has time to hang out with you. The couch isn’t actually far away from the conference room, but it does mean you get to sit together, your feet in his lap while he reads a book, listening to his commentary on the author’s points or sketching aimlessly for fun.

The whole thing feels like a bizarre vacation, some alternate reality where your home life intersects with superheroes. Tony Stark may have been a sometimes-client, but he never let you attempt anything more custom than a three-piece suit. 

You’re not complaining; it’s just weird that Captain America is so average when his uniform comes off. He sinks his face into his palm when he’s sleepy. His yawn is outrageously adorable for how big the man is. He absently holds your ankles steady in his lap when he shifts on the cushions. His eyelids droop, and he repeats paragraphs when he can no longer keep his place on the page.

Steve Rogers could not be more normal, and for this reason, you find him extraordinary.

He gets dressed every morning while you’re there, no sweatpants, no workout wear—or, what did Sam call it? Athleisure? That’s not a word, right?—except for when Steve is actively working out. He thinks it’s too on-the-nose to wear your designs in front of you for days on end, but that limits his options significantly, considering how much of his wardrobe sports a Tovarich label. Good jeans and a black sweater will have to do because today he’s playing model.

It seems the mannequin Dominica hauled in for you isn’t close to the right proportions for your client so Steve volunteered, rewarded immediately with a gorgeous, toothy smile that made his heart thump against his ribcage.

Steve’s chatty but can’t help it.

There was one conversation a few days ago that unlocked so many memories he thought he’d lost.

While he peeked at a few of your sketches, you asked him about clothing in the 40s, and he took your notepad to doodle a bit. Steve drew a common dress from memory to show you girls he grew up with, the pleats and cinches in their exact spots because—now that he has your full and rapt attention—he thinks it’s important.

He’s had to recall maps, battle maneuvers, building layouts, and evil plans more times than he can count; no one’s ever asked him how his mother styled her hair or which shoes she wore to work at the hospital.

They’re just shoes, but Steve sat misty-eyed describing how Ma tied her laces a very specific way, the way she taught him to, the way he still ties them to this very day. He hadn’t thought of why in so long, and ever since, little details keep flooding back.

“Buck used to never tuck in his shirts,” Steve laughs as you nudge his arms higher to check his range of motion in the shoulders. “He’d fix the front half and leave a tail out in the back.”

You chuckle at that. “Unacceptable for proper ol’ Stevie,” you muse.

“No, it was not—“ he drops his head in shame “—and I’d remind him every time.” Steve spins, prompted by the pull of your hands at his waist. His face is on fire, but he promised to help you. He just has to ’suffer’ through your touch, he supposes.

How horrible…

“Sharp dresser, were you? Not a hair out of place?”

“Yes, ma’am, or…at least for my size I was.”

You’re deep in thought, pulling the bottom hem to check how it lays at his hips, checking the lining before buttoning him up. “These might be too flashy,” you mumble. “Gosh, I hope he likes this color.”

“Why not? It’s stunning,” Steve jumps too eagerly at the chance to praise the barely purple fabric. It’s that kind of illusion hue that might look black, navy, or its true shade in different lights.

“And the buttons?” you prod.

He tilts one of the stamped, dark nickel rounds to see the embellishment. “I’d consider that a signature touch of the Tovarich brand,” he beams.

Your elation is contagious until an ear-splitting alarm sounds overhead. You’re so startled you spring backward into a rolling chair and topple to the floor.

Steve scrambles to help you right yourself while the wailing screech continues, but he knows that noise.

Emergency.

He has to go.

You’re holding your elbow, flashing him a thumbs up, and Steve feels terrible yelling to ensure you’re okay.

Agents race past the glass walls, and he really has to run so off he goes, jacket still on.

An incredibly long seventeen hours later, Steve is returning to his room only to notice you’ve fallen asleep at the conference table. He’s pleased there is no bandage on your elbow, so the fall was no worse than bruising, but he refuses to leave you there.

Slowly peeling your face and hands from your drafting paper, Steve wrestles your flopping arms and limp legs into a solid hold to carry you to your own room.

You don’t wake up, not fully, only enough to grip the shoulder strap of his shield harness as he gently lowers you onto the unmade bed. Luckily, your MO is to kick off your shoes when concentrating on work, so once you release the leather attached to him, he pulls the covers over you.

He kisses your temple. “Night, Button,” he whispers like a secret, and for now, it is.

You simply sigh and turn deeper into the pillow.

Steve purposefully finds you at breakfast to ask if you’d want to get lunch with him. Yes, it would just be in the cafeteria on the lower levels, and yes, you two have already shared many meals, but in his mind, this is the actual ask, the question of ‘will you go out with me’ instead of just ‘are you hungry at this reasonable time and may I be hungry in your vicinity.’

It’s stupid, he knows. He’s anxious for your answer anyway.

Steve has a very love/hate relationship with having you essentially trapped in the Tower. On the one hand, you’re starved for interaction and the choice of your surroundings. On the other hand, he gets you all to himself. He’s ashamed of how much he enjoys that perk. Somewhere deep inside, he hopes whatever Fisk is after is never resolved, but that’s wishful—and terribly selfish—thinking.

Just in case going on a deliberate date with him isn’t offer enough, Steve can return your client’s jacket. He hung it in his locker when changing into the tactical suit. It’s safe, but he’ll get it after his debrief. That’s a good excuse. That’ll work.

You’re happy and excited, only making him more nervous, but it’s progress. He’s done ‘round noon after the long meeting scheduled to start in, yikes, fifteen minutes, and you quickly agree. Steve floats on cloud nine, bouncing his foot until dismissed so he can rush back up to you.

He isn’t expecting to see Tony in your bubble.

“You don’t know me, Stark. How dare you!” Your face twists in fury. “Screw this,” you shout, frantic in grabbing your essentials from the table. “I don’t answer to you. I don't need this. Someone else will get my things.”

Steve doesn’t understand why you won’t meet his eye or speak to him as you barrel past. He’s too stunned to follow you to the elevator, it feels imposing to race down and corner you in the lobby, but he marches up to Tony with wide eyes.

“What the hell happened?”

Tony waves him off, cagy and dismissive, rushing off upstairs to his lab, and Steve almost asks if this is about Fisk. If it’s not and he blabs, then you’ll definitely be angry at him. If he grills Tony too much, there might be something that gives away that Steve lied about having a significant other as his guest for two weeks. If Steve admits that he doesn’t even have your number, the jig is 100% up.

But he knows you have his number, he knows he still has a jacket you’ll want back, and he knows one thing he’s incredibly good at.

So Steve waits, ready to apologize, ready to grovel, ready to yell at Tony for whatever. He is just ready and waiting.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @darsynia

[Next Part]

[Light Masterlist; Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x female reader #fashion designer!reader #threadbare #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america fluff

[lovingmusicalmen]

"Wh- so you did remember my birthday!" || "Of course I did. How could I ever forget?" with Jack Kelly?

This one's lowkey v cute! I hope you enjoy!

Still accepting blurb requests!

Fluff 21 - "Wh- so you did remember my birthday!" || "Of course I did. How could I ever forget?"

If you were to ask Crutchie, he would say that Jack was moping.

A claim that Jack himself would vehemently deny. Jack Kelly did not mope, though that didn't mean that he didn't occasionally feel a tad bit disappointed. Especially when his girlfriend avoided him at every turn and gave absolutely zero inclination that she knew his birthday had been coming up.

And, yes, perhaps that mild upset was showing through Jack isolating himself on the roof of the lodging house with only his sketchbook for company. If you were to ask Jack, that was the ideal way for anyone to spend their birthday.

So no, of course he was not moping, no matter what Crutchie and Race and whoever else had to say about it.

"Jackie? You up here? The guys said they saw you head up here."

Jack tensed up at the familiar voice floating up to where he sat sketching from his penthouse.

"Oh so you actually want to talk to me now?" Jack bit out before he could think better of it.

Okay, so maybe Jack was a little more upset than he wanted to let on.

"Jackie?"

He let out a long sigh, snapping his sketchbook shut and turning around to face his girlfriend.

Y/N stood at the edge of the penthouse, her arms behind her back. There was a nervous smile on her face, and she was bouncing up and down a little on her heels. Her clothes were surprisingly clean considering that Jack knew she had been working far harder than usual lately.

"Yeah?"

"I have something for you," she said, smile widening.

Jack raised a single eyebrow at her, refusing to let her words raise his hopes.

Y/N crossed over to him, moving her hands to her front to present him with two small parcels and a piece of card.

"It's not much - but happy birthday, Jackie."

Jack blinked at her, staring between his girlfriend and the gifts she was presenting him with.

"Wh- so you did remember my birthday?" Jack asked in mild disbelief. Y/N let out a quiet laugh, biting her lip as she nodded.

"Of course I did. How could I ever forget?" Y/N asked, her voice soft.

"But you've been avoiding me."

"I wanted it to be a surprise. And I've been taking a couple of extra jobs to try and save up for what I wanted to get for you."

"You didn't have to do that!" Jack hadn't realised he had stood up until he had already crossed over to her. He clasped his hands ever-so gently on her arms.

"Of course I did - I love you, Jackie! Happy birthday!"

Jack learned and pecked her cheek before accepting the objects in her arms. He couldn't help but laugh at the card - two crudely drawn figures on the front holding what Jack presumed were meant to be newspapers.

"Yeah, okay - we can't all be artistic geniuses, Kelly," Y/N huffed, pouting.

"It's beautiful. I'll treasure it forever, baby," Jack promised, swallowing back any further laughter that threatened to bubble up.

True to his word, he strode over to where he had tacked up several of his own drawings to the railings, adding the birthday card to the mix.

"Crutchie is going to think your artistic talent took a serious hit," Y/N snorted, and Jack turned around just in time to see her flop down onto the piles of old clothes and blankets which served as Jack's bed.

Jack just grinned at her, joining her on the bed and carefully peeling away the newspaper which wrapped the two parcels.

A single cupcake was revealed in the first box and Jack's mouth watered at just the sight of it.

"This must've cost a fortune,"

"You deserve a birthday cake, Jackie - not every day you turn 18," Y/N murmured, grabbing hold of his hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

"I love you," he said, tightening his hold on her when she tried to pull away and instead tugging her closer to peck her lips.

"Yeah, yeah," Y/N waved it off. "Open the other one. That's the real present."

"The real present?" Jack repeated incredulously. Y/N just nodded eagerly, eyes fixed on the scruffy parcel. Jack picked it apart carefully, his eyes widening as he revealed a brand new set of paints for him to use. "How the fuck did you buy these?" He whispered.

"I told you - I've been taking a lot of extra work," Y/N shrugged bashfully.

Jack didn't think twice before lunging towards her to pull her into a long, deep kiss.

#jack kelly #jack kelly x reader #jack kelly fanfiction #jack kelly imagine #newsies #newsies fanfiction #newsies x reader #newsies fic

[minologistt]

00

TOO MANY NIGHTS I PJM

your lovely boyfriend gets you a bodyguard. one or two drinks lead into a spiral of things. however don't forget, never mix business with pleasure.

genre forbidden love / fwb(ish) -> lovers

M.LIST

warnings angst, implied cheating and neglecting partners

it was getting warmer, ice cream trucks starting to resurface, more fun shows and movies, even better outfits. however instead of feeling the warmth of the outdoors. you stuck inside, your expensive hotel room, arguing with your boyfriend.

why are you arguing with your oh-so-loving boyfriend, you may ask. well it all started about a couple months ago.

———————————————————————--------------------------

“babe have you seen the concept photo sketches for my latest runway?” you excitedly scroll through the photos on your ipad. you’re a very successful model and you’re gorgeous. in fact you’re the global IT girl currently, known for breaking beauty standards and such. in all, you’re a pretty big deal.

“yeah of course i did.. i don’t like that outfit they put you in” your boyfriend, jihoon, scoffed as he tapped away at his screen. jihoon is a famous producer in the music industry. you both have been together for roughly a year and a month, however—

RING RING RING

“hey sara.. now?… hmm i’m not busy so i’ll be right over”

jihoon is also a total A-hole.

your boyfriend is a horrible person, well towards you. lately he’s become over protective, controlling, and over all just toxic. so why are you in this relationship still?

people were too fearful of your boyfriend to even get close to you.

and you might be wondering—

“who’s sara..?” you shut your ipad off and looked over at your boyfriend that is putting on his best cologne.

“my assistant”

“why didn’t you say you with me..?”

“i’m not busy am i?”

“guess not.. we’ll i’m going to call taehyung over to—“

“no you’re not, go take a nap or something”

“are you serious?”

“hell yeah i am.. i’ll be back a little late so just go to sleep without me” and with that he was out of the door, quick footsteps were heard going down the hall.

a sigh escaped your lips, you knew who sara was already. she was the woman who accompanies him to almost every event. yes she was his assistant but she didn’t need to be attached to his hip. you sat on the windowsill watching as your boyfriend walks toward a all white benz. a short slim blonde hops out with a wide smile.

———————————————————————--------------------------

back to present day.

“jihoon are you seriously telling me that i’m a cheater?!” you raised you voice and threw your hands up in the air with pure rage as your boyfriends eyebrows knitted together. “you can’t be fucking serious—“

“don’t you go swearing at me—“

“you’re not my fucking dad, okay?! hell is wrong with you jihoon..” you huffed out as your boyfriend rolled his eyes.

“either way i don’t trust you, so i hired a body guard for you and he’s gonna watch over you..” jihoon walked to his side of the bed and laid down with his back facing you. “he’s my ex bodyguard so he’s pretty good and i trust him, not your little taehyung friend” jihoon curled up and took his phone out. “you can get going now or whatever you said you were gonna do” he made a ‘shoo’ing hand motion.

you didn’t want to be in his presence any longer so you stormed out of the hotel room. “bodyguard my ass, are you kidding?” you muttered under your breath as you made your way to the lobby doors. your car was parked in the downstairs garage, because you didn’t drive yourself places often. as you tapped away on your phone, you bumped into someone. before you could even begin to stable yourself, a firm arm came around your waist.

“be careful miss” a soft voice came from the person holding you. as you looked up to see whom this person was, your mouth parted a bit as you admired the man’s features. he had a mask on however his eyes were captivating and his light blond hair was a compliment to his beauty. “yeah, uh, sorry..” you moved out of his grasp and noticed he’s standing in front of your car. “excuse me but this is my car so, uhm.. can you move please?” you held up your keys and jingled them to push the point.

“oh i’m aware!” the man’s eyes crinkled into half moons as he watched the keys in her hand. “i’m your bodyguard but if you wanna get fancy then your personal escort!” he ended the statement with a small bow.

“don’t skrew around dude..”

“i’m not and my name is jimin park.. not dude”

there was a beat of silence that went by before you sighed and just handed the keys over. you didn’t have enough energy to argue with a stranger. mr park took the keys and held the car door open as you made you way over.

———————————————————————--------------------------

the drive was silent until you spoke up to break the awkward silence. “so.. mr park, how much is he paying you..?” you glanced from the side of your eye to look at him. he still had his mask on but he looked a bit stiff while driving.

“huh?”

“my so-called-boyfriend, how much is he paying you to give a fuck about my well being?” you rolled your eyes as you watch the street lights go by. it was just 5 pm but it felt like night was approaching sooner.

“enough”

“honest i guess, so how does your partner feel about your job? are they ever worried?” you wondered aloud. he let out a hearty chuckle “i actually don’t have a partner”

and then there was silence.

however just like the world is on your side, you arrive to your destination which is a a night club. you were called over to do some taste testing but this club wasn’t some random club, it belong to your close friend taehyung.

your bodyguard parked on a side street near by and then let you out of the car. “you can wait here if you’d like mr jimin park.. i’m just taste testing so i’ll be back in a bit” you said as you began walking towards the club, jimin followed closely behind.

as you stepped into the club you were greeted with workers coming to bow and welcome you. you smiled and waved at them as you made you way to the bar with jimin on your tail. “y/n it’s so good to see you and who is this pretty boy? finally got a new boyfriend?” the deep voice came out of nowhere as a tall male approached the duo standing idle at the bar table.

“no actually this is my bodyguard—“ you made sure to do air quotations when saying ‘bodyguard’. “—that my boyfriend thought i needed..” you rubbed your temple to show how stressed you actually were. “well don’t let that get you down too much, yeah?" taehyung came up behind y/n and rubbed her back in concern.

jimin carefully watches the interaction and takes a few mental notes of the environment. "so y/n's bodyguard.. want to help taste testing the drinks?" tae offered a friendly smile as he watched jimin's eyes turn into half moons. "i'd love to but i have to be sober to drive miss y/n home", y/n scoffed after the statement and took a seat at the bar. "okay tae.. hit me with the latest and strongest stuff you've got"

______________________________________________________________

it's about 2 hours into the taste testing hangout and y/n is a little more than just tipsy.

"i can't believe you're still with that dickhead of a man.. come on you need to get out more" tae shook his head at the drunken woman whom was now leaning on jimin who was been sitting silently as the two held their long conversations with the occasional drinking. "jimin-" tae called the man and turned his head towards him, "don't you agree that y/n can totally get out more?"

jimin turned his gaze to taehyung. "i don't condone cheating however, y/n is beautiful so if she did get out there then she'd pull everyone of them", he then turned his gaze back to the half sleeping woman. "i believe i should bring her home now, thank you for the entertaining talks you both had, mr kim." jimin smiled beneath his mask and began to bring y/n towards the exit. "of course mr park, have a nice night" tae yelled back as he began cleaning up the bar.

jimin makes it to the car and puts y/n in the passenger seat. he goes around and takes a seat in the driver's seat and starts up the car. "mr park.. do you think i should actually go back to that man" y/n asks as she frowns and leans her against the window. "what man? your boyfriend? you most likely should however i'm just here to keep you safe", jimin then drove off from the bar. "oh.. guess you're right" y/n closes her eyes and a sigh leaves her lips.

it felt like time flew as jimin pulls up to the hotel room that y/n is staying in. "we've arrived, miss y/n", jimin turns the car off and opens the passenger door for her. she steps out on wobbly legs, so jimin helps her up by wrapping an arm under her arms. y/n and jimin make their way up to the hotel room at a very slow pace. "mr park.. thank you for accompanying me today.. i know it may have been a bit awkward here and there but it felt a little nice to have someone with me that didn't yell at me all day or ditch me." jimin kept looking ahead even as he heard y/n sniffling and holding back tears. he wasn't sure why she was so thankful for the bare minimum but he was also getting paid to spy on her every move, not be her company or 'bodyguard'.

so he simply responds, "you're welcome, miss y/n"

 minologistt | do not copy, translate or edit this.

#jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin x you #park jimin fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic

[cute-bag-of-bones]

Can't trust a supe.

Part 1: "Uncle" Billy

Warnings ⚠️: Swearing, death, killing, body horror, gore. It's The Boys so all related warnings apply ✌🏻

      My life isn't a happy one, but it used to be. I used to have the best life a kid could ever want. Two loving parents that worked from home, a huge house full of people who cared about me on a bunch of land. Now I know people will say "but Simon your dad was a cult leader and your mom was a crazed geneticist." Which is all true but they loved me and that's all a parent really has to do in my opinion. My life was perfect till the day he ruined it all. Vaught's swinging big stick, Homelander. He attacked my family's compound and destroyed it all. Only bodies and rubble were left when he was done. I only survived because one or my Father's followers shielded me from the falling debris. That was 7 years ago and now I'm a 17 year old living in and out of shelters. I can't even use my real name because of the slander Vaught slung to justify homelanders borderline war crimes. I swore if I ever saw his lipless face again I'd kill him. I just needed to figure out how first.

    

      I wasn't sure if I could trust this British guy who called himself Billy Butcher. He kept showing up and trying to talk to me. Finally he asked if I wanted to get even with Homelander. How could I refuse? He asked to meet during the day at the park. He kinda sketched me out. The long coat and sunglasses he gave me school shooter all grown up vibes but if he actually had a way to kill Homelander I was more then willing to look past his unfortunate fashion choices. 

      So here I sat at the park waiting for this limey bastard. Sure enough he strolled up and sat down next to me on the bench. He leaned back and looked over the whole park. I turned to look at him and asked him what he needed me to do but before any words could leave my mouth he stopped me.

      "That the fucks the matter with you? Face forward, don't look at me." He said as he chewed on some gum. I look forward and lean against the arm rest. Trying to look as nonchalant as possible. 

      "You are the one who wanted to meet in public." I say taking a quick glance at him.

      "Yeah I did because you're a damn supe." He said it with such malice. I froze for a second. If I was smart I would have walked away and never looked back but I have never been known for my brains. 

      "How did you-"

      "I have my ways. I know who mommy and daddy are as well. I know everything there is to know about you right down to what's in your bag." He said as he shifted in his seat a little. I leaned down and pulled my bag into my lap to hold close.

      "You going to blackmail me or something?" I ask looking over at him no longer caring to play alone with whatever game he had. 

      "No nothing like that, I want to give you an opportunity. We have a common problem. I have this time coming together and we need someone with your particular set of skills." He said as he finally turned his head to look at me. His sunglasses made it impossible to see anything other than my own reflection. 

      "You really think our problem can be fixed? You got that kind of juice on your team?" 

       "Gotta try right? We are getting there. If you don't want to help then fine. I guess you don't want these." He said as he pulled a manila envelope from the inside of his jacket. He smirked down at me. 

      "And what's in that?"

      "The only file Vaught had on your dearly departed mom. She wrote it herself. Could be something interesting in there. Maybe something that could make sense of it all." He tapped his gloved fingers against the envelope then slipped it back on his jacket.

     "What would I have to do?"

     "Come with me and meet the team. I can't talk about it out here. Never know who's listening." He said as he pointed to the sky before standing up. I should be more careful about strangers. He could be a lot of very dangerous things. 

       He walked us to a ran down looking building. He walked down some steps and banged on the door. 

      "Oi cunts let me in!" He shouted. Soon the door unlatched and opened. We walked into this sad gray concrete room. A tall skinny man leaned against the sink with his arms crossed. He looked scared shitless. Like he could vomit at any second. He looked completely harmless. The second man was shorter with a shaved head. He looked much less harmless. 

       "I thought you were getting someone who can help!" He had a thick French accent when he spoke. 

      "She can. She's a supe don't you worry Frenchie." Billy said as he walked past the man. Frenchie how original. He looked at me with almost pleading eyes. Now that I really look at him he seems just as harmless as the pipe cleaner leaning on the sink. 

      "I don't even know what the problem is." Billy walks over to another door and unlocks it. He swings it open and there is an empty cage. My eyes widen as I look at the men in the room. Billy looks in the cage.

      "Shit no no wait a second. The bugger is invisible." He grabs a cattle prod and jabs it onto the cage. I hear a man scream. The man in the cage uncloaks himself. It was translucent from the 7 butt naked and sitting criss-cross applesauce on the bottom of the cage.

     "What the fuck thats almost worse than what I thought you wanted! Whatever it is I'm out hell no!" Billy quickly steps out of the room and shuts the door. 

      "You're the only one who can do it. His skin is like fucking Dimonds! But I was thinking maybe the inside isn't." Billy yelled over my protesting. 

       "What is she super strong or something?" The thin man asked. 

       "No!" Billy and I shout at once at him. 

        "Fine I guess you rather the news have these." Billy says as he opens his coat to show the file. 

        "I thought you weren't going to blackmail me fuck! Fucking dick!" I shout as I stomp my foot. Billy smirks as he nods like a lunatic. Frenchie and the thin man look back and forth at each other confused. I guess Billy had not informed his team about anything of his little plan. 

      "You can do it. The  file says you can anyway." Billy says the same smirk painted on his stupid face. 

       "If he finds out-"

       "If cuntlander finds out you'll get your chance to kill him. Or wait till he comes for you after he finds out who your mom was." 

        "Fuck!" I felt completely cornered. I couldn't kill someone who had never done anything to me. no matter how much of a douchebag they seemed like.

       "Wait, who's her mom?" The man asked.

     "Homelander's old cock warmer" Billy says with a knowing look. 

      "Stop it!"

      "Oh yeah moms got around alright. She was two-timing New York's favorite supe with New York's most notorious serial bombing cult leader. A bit of a whore if you ask me." I wanted to leap across the room and strangle that dumb British asshole but I knew my strengths were not in a physical fight.

       "You're Alphonse Bishop's daughter!?" The thin man said with a look of shock. Billy let out a hardy laugh. I had had enough of this. 

      "That's it! Give me the file or I'll just kill you!" I screamed at Billy. 

      Frenchie's attention turned to a laptop. 

      "Oh look at the big bollocks on this one! Yeah go on kill me might as well because if you don't get in there and kill that cunt we are all dead!" 

      "Butcher we have a problem." Frenchie said. Billy and the other man huddled around the laptop. 

      "Is that-"

      "He's searching for something." 

I come over and stand on my tippy toes to see over the men. It was Homelander he was surveying the area likely looking for his fellow 7 member. It was chaos for a moment. They scrambled around trying to figure out what happened. They talked about a chip of some kind. I was too busy staring at the screen as Homelander flew around. 

      "You two stay here." Billy said as he and frenchie ran up the steps. They were out the door before I could stop to ask for an explanation. 

      "I'm Hughie Campbell by the way, it's good to meet you." The man said, looking over at me as he stuck his hands in his pockets. It took everything in me not to break his jaw right then and there. This wasn't his fault I shouldn't be mad at him. 

      "You should get out of here." I say as I sit down on a stool.

       "Butcher told us to stay." 

       "Yeah if he told you to lick his balls would you? He's gonna get you killed. Let him and the Frenchman sort it out." I say as I motion to the door with my head. He puts on a stiff upper lip and shakes his head. 

         "No noway, I got to do this. He needs all the help he can get, but if you want to go I won't stop you. I'll tell Butcher you overpowered me." He says with a little laugh. Oh if he only knew. He didn't seem like Billy was blackmailing him. What on earth would make someone want to help that maniac. 

         "Nah I'm as good as dead the second I see Homelander face to face anyway. I'm going to rip him apart." I say as I stare at the looping footage of him zipping around. Hughie gives me a strange look. 

      "How are you-" he was interrupted by the other door being opened. Translucent somehow had gotten out of his cage. The 3 of us just stared at each other for a second before finally he spoke. 

       "You kids are gonna let me walk out of here." He says as he starts to walk to the exterior door. Hughie to my surprise steps in front of his path. 

        "No, I'm sorry we can't let you. just go back in the room please." He begged. Translucent laughed a little. He looked over at the laptop and saw Homelander was near. 

        "Yeah I think I'm just going to go outside." He said pushing past a defeated looking Hughie. I could tell Billy would tear this kid a new one if he just let translucent walk out. I got up and quickly put myself between him and the door just as Hughie did. He looked down at me for a second before rolling his eyes and giving me a strong push to the side. I bumped into the table with my hip.

       "You going to push a kid?" Hughie shouted as he grabbed translucent from behind and tried to pull him down to the ground. Translucent went invisible and started to beat the snot out of Hughie. His skin may be invisible but his insides were not. I looked inside of him. Like most supes he was stronger than average but I was sure I could still do something. I saw his skeletal system wrapped in muscle and nerves move as he continued his assault. I tighten his muscles in his right arm making it go stiff. He started to scream which normally wouldn't be a problem but Homelander might hear so I tightened his vocal cords. Now only small mouse-like squeaks escaped his lips. Hughie wiggled himself out from under the invisible man and pushed himself up against a wall. I couldn't see Translucence face but the muscles were constricted in his face. Even without the skin I could make out the expression of fear. I had to be quick about whatever I was going to do to him. 

       I couldn't hold such a targeted effort for too long. He tried to get to his feet so I tightened his joints connected to his knees. I struggled to hold him

 He was fighting against me. I felt a popping sensation and without warning he was ripped apart in all directions. Invisible bloody pieces are sent all over Hughie and I. He looked over at me almost more scared then before. 

      "Was that…" his question slowly trailed to silence as I nodded at him quickly. He slipped on the blood covered floor for a second as he got to his feet.

        Billy and Frenchie came running in. They started to speak but stopped as they realized what was covering us and the walls. 

        "What'd uncle Billy tell ya! Easy peasy. " He says as he hooks his elbow around my neck to pull me closer to his side. Frenchie almost trips over a particularly invisible pile of human. 

         The clean up was somehow more grizzly than the murder itself. Hughie was sent home to shower and try to forget what he saw. It was mostly picked up and Frenchie left to go talk to some girl. So Billy and I were left.

       "My mom wasn't two-timing Homelander. Her and dad had an open relationship and Homelander knew that." I say looking down at Billy who was on his knees searching for the last bits of translucent. 

        "Is that so?" 

        "Yeah and if you ever call my mom a whore again or say she was Homelander's cock warmer I'll pull your tongue out through your asshole." He let out a chuckle as he got up. He got out the file and held it out to me. 

     "I wrote the number of my business cell down on it if you change your mind about helping out. Either way, with or without you, I can promise Homelander is going to die." I grabbed the file but Billy didn't let go. "Stay out of trouble, if you don't you'll be seeing me again and I won't be there to ask for your help." His tone was dark. I could tell it was a genuine warning. I pulled it from his hand and walked out. 

       I wasn't even sure what was in this file but whatever It was, was worth it. It had to be. I killed a man for it after all.

Part 2 will probably be out tomorrow if not then definitely the day after. Thanks for reading! 💖

#the boys #billy butcher #homelander #hughie campbell #frenchie #translucent

[emotionallychargedtowel]

the persistent and the cute

Over the last few days, there’s been a really interesting discussion in the comments of my reblog of the gifset @tinngun​ put together of the Utsukushii Kare season 2 finale kiss. I’m transplanting it here because 1) it seems like @tinngun​ could use a break from all those notifications and so forth 2) the conversation was totally getting buried and I think it might be interesting to folks who probably wouldn’t see it without it being brought back out into a main post. So, first, here’s a quick recap of what I posted when I reblogged the gifset post in the first place. Well, the part that’s pertinent to this conversation, at least. I commented on the tropeyness of the scene, including allusions to Hira and Kiyoi’s sexual relationship, which (from what I hear) gets quite a bit of time in the novels but by virtue of TV as a medium, is mostly not portrayed in the series. In other words, since this part of the relationship isn’t shown directly the vast majority of the time, it has to be sketched out through these allusions, including what I’d consider coded language. 

With regard to the coded terms, I brought up something @bookittyboop​ had mentioned to me previously, that “persistent” and “cute” have specific meanings in BL/yaoi/other related genres. Basically, someone labeled as “persistent” is more active/forceful sexually and someone labeled as “cute” is yielding/more passive, with these roles being mutually reinforcing (i.e. the more yielding the “cute” person is, the more forceful the “persistent” person becomes).

Then I talked about the way Hagiwara Riku’s voice shifts in the line, “Sorry, Kiyoi. I can’t wait any longer tonight.” I had checked out some clips of other roles of his and noticed that among other things, he really seems to use his voice to differentiate between characters. This helped me to notice how distinct his “can’t wait” voice was, and I thought this was probably a voice belonging to the “persistent” part of the character. And I was less sure about this, but I thought Yagi Yusei was playing into this as well by reacting to the voice by kind of melting/going all floppy in response to it (he’d been fairly swoony before that, but it definitely seemed to be going up a notch there).

Then @xnoel, perennial fountain of information, pointed me to this quote from an interview translation (highlighting added):

So yeah, this seems like confirmation! I mean, what else would Yagi be referring to when he talks about “Hira’s ‘dark’ side” than this authoritative husky whisper thing?

Then I got some really great comments which I’m going to share here with permission, in part because I asked if anyone could point me toward more information on the “persistent”/”cute” thing.

The ever-helpful @nieves-de-sugui​ said:

a little bit of translation notes for your analysis! Hira is saying, literally, "I can't hold back (anymore)" and it's a very tropey sentence to say in BL (and shoujo) right before getting it on.  It's also the main indicator of taking over/taking charge of the sexual encounter. There's a lot of one taking over and the other giving in. (I think there's a lot here about how Japanese people relate to sex and how it should be done).

(I said I’d run into this trope in Kdramas before as well.)

And then the kind and knowledgeable @bookittyboop​ pretty much took me to school on the whole persistent/cute dichotomy! They left comments in two clusters at different times so I’m putting a little dinkus (the line of asterisks or symbol that marks a transition between sections) in there to show where that was. Oh, and I took out some greetings/closings and stuff like that for flow purposes. Here we go:

The best source I can think of (because otherwise this is the kind of thing your get through osmosis once you've watched enough Japanese media) is @absolutebl's post [link added by me] on the whipping boy trope, though there is more to it. I would classify Hira as a whipping boy/attack dog/service top and Kiyoi as more of a kuudere than a tsundere as well as a spoiled prince/pampered princess.

Their characterization and dynamic (and derivatives) is a staple not only in bl but in Japanese media. You've got a male character (Hira) who is the unassuming or even the loser archetype but unearths or shows a "manly" and protective side in benefit of his loved ones (many times after his "cowardice" or "uselessness" has let them be hurt) and slowly makes something of himself.

Then you got a (normally female) character who is  a combination of cold and aloof (kuudere) or prickly and explosive (tsundere) but actually wants to be cherished and uses the gruff exterior as a way to protect herself from heartache/rejection.

The first archetype normally admires the second and wants to be at their service while the second sees the potential in them and the adoration makes them feel safe. In normal circumstances the first character has a submissive personality and the other a domineering one. The second character is also going to find emotional vulnerability extremely difficult to express. But in certain circumstances, there is a "mom friend hack" button.

* * *

When character 2 opens up/shows vulnerability, character 1 identifies a need in the other to be cared for and takes confidence from being  chosen to provide that. There's also gap moe (duality cuteness) and horny "I'm gonna worship you so good you will forget everything else,” "gotta get top marks at satisfying you," and "you're so cute I wanna eat you up" buttons.

The second character in turn feels attracted, safe and tethered by that show of confidence and let's themselves (their barriers) go more and more . Those energies feed into each other and that's how you get to our kiss scene. Sometimes(Kiyoi's case) they add coyness and shyness ("no, that's too much you beast") because God forbid the tsundere/kuudere lacks plausible deniability when they go back to their senses. (there's a "baby it's cold outside"element too)

This is where @absolutebl​ chimed in to say they thought @bookittyboop​ was doing “a GREAT job” with this explanation.

And I agreed, and thanked them for the time and effort involved in such a useful explanation, but asked about the “mom friend hack” because it was new to me. Here was their explanation:

The mom friend is the responsible, caring one, prepared for any eventuality. If you're a generally anxious person but also the mom friend, you've got a hack where you handily navigate  situations which would normally be embarrassing or anxiety-inducing if it's for your loved one's benefit.

For example:

-Buying condoms, pregnancy tests, emetics or other "embarrassing" stuff

-telling waitstaff they got an order wrong and to please change it

-asking a teacher to explain something again or revise an exam score

-giving a jerk a piece of your mind

Basically, you may not be able to stand for yourself or even make perfectly mundane, normal requests for your own sake, but the power of love lets you rationalize things, be brave, and do it for others.

I just realized I probably didn't clarify enough. Hira's thing is not exactly a "mom friend hack" but it's similar to it in the sense that "being needed" lets him overcome a mental block.

And they added, re: my theory about Kiyoi’s response to the Persistent Voice:

As for the kiss voice and Kiyoi's reaction, I too am convinced that was all on purpose. Bl drinks from yaoi manga, which has a treasure trove of visual cues and tropes. If there was a manga version, we'd probably have seen Hira suddenly get wolfy ears and shiny eyes + Kiyoi blushing like a maiden (maybe a fade to black with the dirtiest onomatopoeia known to man) to signal someone's getting railed within an inch of his life 😂. This is the real life equivalent.

So, yeah. Lots to think about here. I’m glad to know I seemed to be on the right track. It’s funny how there is so much material out there about some tropes and genre terms (googling seme and uke will get you more results than you know what to do with) while other tropes are harder to find anything about. (If only because of the vagaries of search terms, which might be a factor here.) If nothing else I’ll have this post to refer back to and I hope others will do the same if they find it at all useful.

Thanks again to @bookittyboop​ and @nieves-de-sugui​ for their thoughts! And to the illustrious @absolutebl​ for chiming in with praise (for @bookittyboop​) and confirmation.

postscript:

There are a couple of things I keep noticing about that kiss scene since this discussion that I wanted to point out. I guess the fact that, due to both of my reblogs, I had a gifset of the scene at the top of my profile for three days probably has something to do with it.

First, I hadn’t noticed how much Kiyoi really is slipping into a “cute” persona even before the Persistent Voice is used--just in response to Hira’s first kiss. His eyes get very soft and he does that affectionate head-bonk but the pièce de résistance, to my mind, is the rather childlike way he sticks out the end of his tongue. So, yeah. The first stage of cuteness comes before the Voice is even used.

Second, I hadn’t even reckoned with just how floppy Kiyoi gets after the Voice. He’s swaying around so much that Hira keeps having to grab him so he doesn’t just keel over. He’s gone almost boneless.

I guess it’s just really fascinating to me how this set of tropes can be so pervasive in one culture (or at least noteworthy chunks of it) and yet almost entirely novel to me. I mean, I was aware cultural differences existed, of course, but sometimes getting hit by the reality of them is still startling.

#utsukushii kare #utsukushii kare season 2 #utsukushii kare 2 #hira x kiyoi #persistent x cute trope #bl tropes

[wonuumelody]

“ The train ”

Xu Minghao / The8

pairing: Xu Minghao x gn!reader genre: soft, stranger crush. warning(s): none word count: 0.6k

synopsis : When you took the train to your grandfather's house, you met a really fascinating and mysterious man with a long and black coat.

It's been a long time since you took the train. Not since you were a kid, anyway. The last time you took it, you must have been eight years old, with your grandfather in China. Today, you were an adult and decided to visit your beloved grandfather in his little Chinese village.

When you got on the train you immediately took a seat next to the window, glad it was free. The sun beat softly inside the car, the pretty orange light brought charm and softness to the room. You had taken with you something to do, the book you were currently reading, your notebook and headphones as well as your iPad to listen to music and work (mostly draw) without disturbing the other passengers.

The ride began and from the beginning of this one you did not raise your eyes from your screen, busy drawing. Having finished a drawing you had started a week earlier, you raised your head to look out the window. In your field of vision you could see on the right side a long black coat, looking more closely you could see the face of the person wearing the coat. He was a brown haired man, with pretty eyes and slightly pointed ears on their extremities. The young man had his head turned to his window, sitting opposite you he couldn't see you.

When you came back to earth, you took back your iPad, he inspired you. You then began a quick sketch of the young man in black, starting with his silhouette and then drawing the background. Without you realizing it, the man had turned his attention, not to the book he had in his hand, but to you. He would see you watching him from time to time before refocusing on what seemed to him to be a drawing. A smile appeared on his face and his gaze was a mix of curiosity and amusement.

As you raised your face to look at him, you fell directly on his eyes, which were already on you. He gave you an absolutely charming smile before nodding to you, pointing to the empty seat in front of you. You nodded slightly and the young man moved from his seat to the one facing yours.

" - Good morning," he said.

"- Hello. . " you had replied, slightly embarrassed to be surprised.

Did I see you draw me? You know, that's very flattering.

"- That's right! I couldn't help it, I probably should have asked you before. Sorry. . .

- There's no harm, don't worry! May I see where you stand? "

When asked about the stranger, you nodded before showing him the beginning of your work. After I complimented you the discussion quickly came between the two of you. He was an absolutely charming man of unbelievable kindness and politeness.

After spending at least two hours talking and laughing together, the train docked at your stop, apologizing for having to leave, the young man grabbed your hand and slipped a piece of paper.

"By the way, my name is Xu Minghao. "

- Y/N. . . I am Y/N"

He looked at you with a smile before he saw you running away, your purse in your hand.

Once you got off the train, you took the time to look at the piece of paper he gave you. There was a phone number. You gently squeeze the paper in your hand before you put it in your purse, who knows maybe you'll call him one day.

_______________________________________________

Hi! I hope this story has pleased you.. I think hao didn't meditate before, that's why he went directly to you. Anyway, thank you so so much for reading, it really means a lot to me. Kisses <3

#wonuumelody #Melody's write #the8 x reader #Mingaho x reader #the8 x you #seventeen the8 #seventeen reactions #seventeen fluff #Xu minghao #seventeen minghao #Seventeen #svt scenarios #svt reactions #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic

[stephstars08]

Still Alive ~ Chapter Two

Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Adult Language, Parent Issues, Some Angst but more Fluff, and Anxiety, and Mention of Nightmare. (Sorry if I forgot any)

Word Count: 2,263

Author’s Note: Hello, before I say anything I just want to say thank you so much to all of you for showing so much love on the first chapter of this book and thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me seeing so many people showing support for my writing! This chapter has a lot of Ethan in it so enjoy!! I hope you all like this chapter! Next chapter will be posted on Monday instead of Sunday since Sunday is Mother’s Day!🩵

Y/N was sitting in her media art class taking notes for her next project for the class. She was taking notes on the theme of her next art project. Y/N is majoring in art and mixed media since her favorite thing to do ever since she was a child was to draw. Sometimes when she would get upset, she would lock herself in her room and just draw anything. Anytime she gets stressed or anxious about something she would color in one of her hundred of color books that she owns.

Y/N didn’t get into sculpting till she hit her junior year of high school. Most of her artwork is a sculpture made of clay since that’s her favorite form of art and also her strongest form as well.

 When the bell rang, signaling that class was over Y/N finished writing her last sentence and started to log out of her laptop shutting it down. “Have a nice day everyone!” The professor called out to everyone. “Ms. Riley, may I speak to you really quick?” Y/N heard the professor call out to her.  Y/N let out a sigh as she put her notebook and laptop in her book bag. She wrapped the straps of her book bag onto her shoulders and walked to her professor.

 “What’s up? Is something wrong?” Y/N asked her professor sounding a bit nervous. “Yes, you know about the art exhibit next month, right?” The professor said, which earned a nod of the head from Y/N. “I haven’t gotten your prompt on what you are making for the show.” The professor said to her. “Sorry, If I’m being completely honest, I have had so much going on and I just haven’t been thinking about what to make.” Y/N said being completely honest but not going into much detail.

 Of course, she isn’t going to tell her professor about the shit that is going on with her mom and the fucking nightmares about her killing the bitch that killed her father. That’s all she thinks about.

 “I’m sorry to hear that but Ms. Riley you are the only student in all my classes that hasn’t submitted anything. Half of the class is almost done.” The professor told her. “Okay um I promise I’ll give you some kind of idea by next week.” Y/N promised hoping her professor will ease the stern look she is getting. “Okay, I better have it before next weekend.” The professor told her in a strict tone. “Yes, I promise.” Y/N said again which earned a nod from the professor giving her permission to leave. After saying a quick goodbye Y/N walked out of the classroom.

As she walked down the hallway, she kept thinking about what the fuck she could make. She knew she wanted to make a sculpture, but she had no idea what she wanted to sculpt. She knew it was going to be a long week.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

After Y/N’s last class of the day she decided to sit in the park under a tree and sketch some ideas for her project in her sketch book but of course, everything she had sketched so far was shit. Y/N stopped to see what she had drawn on the paper so far. “This looks like shit!” She hissed ripping the piece of paper out and crumbled it up. She tossed the paper into her growing pile of crumbled pieces of paper. She had to have at least ten in the pile. “What the fuck am I going to do!” She groaned in frustration.

 If she doesn’t have some kind of art in the show, she can end up failing the class. Y/N knew she needed a break, so she sat her book and pencil down beside her on the grass. She let out a sigh as she ran both of her hands through her hair. “Why is this so hard?” She whispered to herself. She’s never been out of inspiration like this. When she put her hands down, she heard a vibrating sound.

 When she looked at her phone that was lying on her book bag, she was getting a phone call. When she picked up her phone, she saw the called ID said unknown. She couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Her parents and Sidney always warned her about unknown callers because of Ghostface. She was just about to answer the call till someone said her name, which spooked her, but she relaxed when she saw it was just Ethan. Y/N quickly hit the decline button and put her phone back down onto her bag. “Who was calling you?” Ethan asked her in a curious tone. “Oh, um it was my mom.” Y/N answered with a lie. “I’m guessing she’s trying to talk to you again?” Ethan said as he leaned his shoulder on the tree.

 Ethan is the one that knows the most about the shit she goes through with her mom. When Y/N first met Ethan the thing they bonded together the most was the situation with their parents. Ethan lost his mom about five years ago, so he knows how it feels to lose a parent. Ethan has only confessed to her that he has issues with his father so right when he turned eighteen, he cut off all contact. He didn’t go into much detail which Y/N didn’t mind or pry at him to tell her more. He told her that she’s the only one that knows. He doesn’t like talking about it which of course, Y/N relates to. So, does Sam but Ethan is closer to Y/N than Sam.

“She wanted to know if we could do something tonight, but I told her that I already have plans.” Y/N told him. “So, you are coming to the Halloween party tonight.” Ethan said with a smile as he took off his bag and sat down next to her. Y/N’s heart fluttered when he smiled at her. That damn smile gets her every damn time. His smile was her favorite thing about him. “Yeah, Mindy and Anika talked me into going.” Y/N said as she fiddled with her fingers. She hates how nervous she gets when she’s around him. They have known each other for six months and see each other every single day. When will the nervousness finally go away?

 “Chad talked me into going.” Ethan told her. “He said he’s going to get me to hook up with a girl.” He added which did make Y/N’s heart hurt a little bit. Of course, Chad has no clue that she has something for his curly-haired roommate. Chad can be really oblivious which to be honest what boy isn’t. Sometimes Y/N thinks that Ethan feels the same way about her but that voice in the back of her head tells her otherwise.  

 “What costume are you wearing?” Ethan asked her in a curious tone. “Costume?” Y/N asked him as she looked at him with a confused look. “It’s a costume party.” Ethan told her. “Seriously! It would’ve been nice if Mindy or Anika told me.” Y/N said with frustration in her tone. But then again it is Halloween so she shouldn’t be that shocked but of course she still thinks they should’ve given her a heads up about it. “I guess I’ll have to pull something out of my ass.” she added with another sigh.

 This day is just full of surprises.

 “I’m sure whatever you wear will be better than my costume.” Ethan said as he looked down at the grass. “Why? What are you going as?” Y/N asked him in a curious tone. “Well, Chad decided to tell me that I needed a costume for the party last night, so I stayed up all night last night making something out of cardboard and a lot of tape.” Ethan answered still not looking at her gaze. “Can I see it?” Y/N asked him which made him look back up at her. “It looks stupid.” Ethan told her. “I bet it doesn’t.” she said with soft eyes trying to reassure him. Ethan just shook his head no. “Please Ethan! I can’t wait until the party.” Y/N said in a pleading tone giving him the puppy dog eyes which always work on him. “Okay, fine.” Ethan said in defeat. “Let’s go to my apartment.” Ethan added as he stood up from the ground. “Yes!” Y/N said as she started to put all her stuff into her bookbag.

She also put the pile of crumbled up pieces of paper in her bag as well. She got on her knees so she could put her phone in her back pocket. When she looked back up at him, he had his hand out towards her to take. She smiled as she put her hand in his. Right when their hands met, they both felt sparks shoot up their bodies. Ethan helped her up from the grass. “Thanks.” She said with a warm smile on her face. “You’re welcome.” He said, returning the smile. Y/N had to let go of his hand to pick up her bag and wrap it around her back.

 When she let go of his hand the spark, she felt quickly went away which made her sad. It’s cheesy but when she’s around Ethan she feels things that she has never felt before. Yes, she has had a couple of boyfriends in high school but none of those boys made her feel the things she feels about Ethan.

 As they walked to the apartment, they would make small talk but when it was silent it wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable. When they walked down the sidewalk with a lot of people her hand would brush against his which would make the butterflies in her stomach go into a complete frenzy. Y/N followed him inside a familiar apartment building and up the steps. Ethan led her all the way to third floor and to the door of his and Chad’s apartment. Y/N watched him take his keys out from the front pocket of his jeans. He unlocked the door and opened the door. He let her go in first like he always does. He followed right behind her and shut the door.

 “Where is it?” Y/N asked him in a curious tone as she took off her bag and tossed it onto the couch. “It’s in my room.” Ethan answered her dropping his book bag down onto the floor. “Please promise me that you won’t laugh at it.” Ethan said to her with pleading eyes. “I promise.” Y/N said reassuring him. “Okay, I’ll go get it.” Ethan said and walked to his bedroom.

 Y/N sat down on the couch next to her bag and took out her phone to send a text to Mindy about not telling her that she needed to wear a costume to the party. After she hit the send button Ethan came back into the room holding a cardboard vest in one hand and a cardboard helmet in the other. Both items were covered in a lot of tape. “Wow, that looks um great.” Y/N told him with a small smile. She didn’t really know what to say. It wasn’t horrible but it wasn’t great. “Y/N, I know that you’re lying.” Ethan said with a stern look in his brown eyes. “No, I’m not.” Y/N said as she stood up.

“I just um, what is it supposed to be?” she asked as she walked closer to him. “A knight.” Ethan answered looking at the helmet then back at her. “Right a knight!” Y/N said with a snap of her fingers. “That’s what I thought it was.” She added but again he saw right through her lie. “Yeah, right.” Ethan hissed, tossing the trashy costume on the chair behind him. “Ethan, no I think it’s cool.” Y/N said trying to convince him that it's not a horrible costume. “Y/N, I know that you are just trying to make me feel better for making such a shitty costume.” Ethan told her with frustration in his tone. “It’s not a shitty costume.” She told him. “When you wear that tonight, those girls are going to be all over you.” she added, looking up into his big brown eyes. “Really?” He asked looking in her Y/E/C.

 As they stared deep into each other’s eyes they started to lean in but before their lips could touch the front door swung open. “Hey- woah.” Chad said as he walked into the apartment. “What’s going on in here?” Chad asked as his lips curved into a smirk. “Nothing!” Y/N said quickly taking a step back from Ethan who was just staring down at the floor. Y/N and Ethan’s cheeks were as red as an apple. “Yeah, I was just showing Y/N my costume for tonight.” Ethan said, trying to hide the nervousness in his tone but it didn’t work. “Yeah, okay.” Chad said knowing something was about to happen between the two of them.

 “Anyways.” Y/N said as she turned around to grab her bag off the couch. “I got to get back to my apartment, so I’ll see you two at the party.” Y/N said putting one of the straps on her shoulder. “See ya.” Ethan said looking at her with a smile that just melted her heart. Y/N shot him a smile back and walked out of the apartment.

 She knew that Chad was going to tell Mindy about what he just walked into. If Chad didn’t know about her crush on Ethan, he definitely knows now. She’s going to hear about this all-fucking night!

*Tags*

@sweetirilly @aqellano @igotmajordaddyissues @athenalive @hotweeb @ghostlyboiii

#ethan landry x reader #Ethan Landry #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry fanfiction #scream fanfic #scream imagine #scream #scream iv #Scream 6 #Scream VI #scream 2023 #scream franchise #Jack Champion #jack champion imagine #jack champion x reader #scream cast #ghostface #jack champion fanfic #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #anika kayoko #quinn bailey #gale weathers #detective wayne bailey #kirby reed #sidney prescott #dewey riley

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

Glorfindel was not expecting Elrond to show up at his door. True, he was the captain of the guard, and an injured elf had just been founds on the banks of the Bruinien. But Glorfindel had already sent off scouts to look for orc attacks, or a group of travelers who were missing one of their company, or even the blood trail of the victim. They had found nothing yet, and likely wouldn't report for several days.

Whats more, the elf had been so badly injured that Elrond had declared himself the only one who could lead his healing. With the amount of blood on the grass, and the skewed angles of the injured elf's limbs, and the comment Glorfindel had over heard to "pick that up and put it in his lap, his guts go on the inside but we can fix that as long we don't leave them on the bank-"... Glorfindel had not expected to see Elrond for a day or two.

Indeed, Elrond was standing with his legs wide in the way that would help keep him from swaying. Healing the stranger had obviously taken a lot of his energy.

"How is the patient?" Glorfindel asked.

"Alive, and on the mend. He even spoke a little before falling back asleep."

"Really? Did he say who attacked him?"

"Nothing useful. You are good at portraits, aren't you?"

"I can do a quick sketch well enough to be recognized, but nothing worth displaying."

"Perfect. I need you to draw Finwe. And his eldest two sons for good measure, if you have the time. I'll look it over at breakfast."

"Elrond, is this really the time to make me pick up a hobby?"

"It's not a hobby. I need to know what he looked like; what all of them looked like."

"Others could make a far more elegant rendition of your ancestor."

"There are few in Rivendell who even met Fingolfin, and none but you who saw Finwe in person. All the rest would be working from paintings or from descriptions, half of which were made to flatter Gil-Galad with a supposed resemblance."

"Fine, I'll draw a portrait of Finwe. Does the new arrival claim to know him? Personally, I'd claim closeness with a more recent king if I wanted to get attention."

"He said something like that, yes."

"Do you want me to help you get his story, and see if his answers sound like he's actually been to Tirion?"

"Once he's recovered a bit. The picture will be a good start."

#my fic #silm #finwe in the third age

[kingdom-dance]

Rule of First Blood or unnamed chasexniamh baby fic!!! - em <3

I went kookoobabanas and whoopsie I ended up finishing pretty much all the of prologue/opening to this so uh here

———

Rule of First Blood

the unwritten rule: the first Hunter to inflict a fatal wound makes the claim.

—

The thing about Mage Hunters that infuriated her the most, she thought, was that she is not prey.

It was in those early days for Vesper when she heard the term, absorbing all she could, filling in the absence of memory with knowledge, ravenous to simply know. To know anything, to soothe the nothing that made the edges of her mind blur and blacken; some raw, gaping hole in her head and her heart. Anything to stop feeling hollowed out.

It made her brow furrow. Hunters, whose mark consisted of those born with the remains of an old covenant in their blood. Their fellow man, made in the image of Six.

The Viper King thinks we are dangerous, too dangerous to live. The Hunters were created to cull us. Drive us to extinction. Jax said.

“Like wolves.” She finished. But back in that moment,she felt more like a fawn, wide eyed and skittish, quick to flee, slow to fight, curled in a bramble and out of sight from the keen cerulean burn that meant the end.

Bellona was a pretty flower. The sketch in one of the books His Majesty had gifted her showed the petals, painted in blue ink, the thorns and leaves and next to it a description of the plant.

Beautiful. Deadly.

How could someone take something so lovely and turn it into a weapon? How wicked to look at beauty and think it the bane of your enemies. Poison- the venom of the Viper King-in their hands, in the veins, arrows tipped.

The wolf to the common folk, the hart to the hunter.

As she learned, as the intrinsic gift pulled and pushed and called to her, as she became entwined with the ambition of her regent who offered purpose, Vesper grew less resentful of the idea of being The Hunted.

After all, hunters step in their own traps. Fall to friendly fire. Gored on tusks and antlers. To creatures born to render and tear flesh with their teeth, hunger is a powerful thing.

If she is to be the quarry, she will be the quarry with fangs and claws. Quick and powerful, quiet and cunning, and most of all, hard to kill.

——-

Commentary below !!

The title came from google searching something different and I was like I… can’t NOT have this be a fic specifically about Vesper and Arthur (thus dubbed…Vespa), and I don’t know where it’s going besides it’s obviously playing into the fact they are foils of equal and opposing force who eventually fall in love, and I just love a good themed character study so the more we learn about our dear darling Margrave I think the more crazy I will get with this. The wonderful @thegrayascendancy-if WIP is still in its infancy and much is shrouded in delicious mystery, and while sometimes I feel like I have the measure of him, he is still largely enigmatic to me which works for Vesper POV fantastically as both she as the character and me as the writer of fiction and a reader of The Gray Ascendancy. He’s fascinating and I have to restrain myself from asking all the questions about him to his dear author- this may be me just studying him and Ves under a microscope, with some action thrown in there(not just massive introspection). I think when two people are posed to really do some damage to each other as in their nature to do so and are (as I’m interpreting it) pretty evenly matched, it’s just -Chef’s kiss- ;adding tension romantic or sexual or otherwise and raising the emotional stakes is also just a freaking delight. It’s really fun to write fierce and ambitious Vesper and learn more about her through my writing and in the story setting as it progresses too, and I’m salivating at Arthur (and the other 2 that make up the trio) having a meaningful impact on her. I joke that I want Arthur to destroy her wholly, and I think this is the start of it. Teehee.

#the gray ascendancy #this got out of hand ajshsjsjsj #thank you Em! #Finish the Fic (whatever) Day Indeed if I didn’t have to get back to work I’d do more /‘shsjs #it’s still a draft like a newborn fresh draft so #also catch the Hadestown ref 👀 #finish your fics friday #(but not Friday…obviously #I was going to do the baby fic ALSO but this is so much I had to consolidate #and now I want to write something gross about them! wether it be cute gross or debauched gross I haven’t decided #save me gray ascendancy interactive fiction the gray ascendancy save me #mc: vesper

[faithfromanewperspective]

Okay so I'm about to be real annoying about autism and biology(specifically genetics) real quick-

So first off, just because Ty has autism doesn't necessarily mean that Livvy does. Yes they are twins but they are fraternal twins, ie two eggs and two sperm, which means they only share about 50% of their DNA like regular siblings. Because that's what they are canonically, regular siblings who just so happened to both be conceived in a roughly 2 week window of each other and born at the same time.

Same with Mark and Helen. Only they share about 25% of their DNA with the other Blackthorn siblings.

Now autism is genetic, this is scientifically proven to be true, and as of 2023 1 out of 100 children has autism. Those chances increase if a sibling or a parent has autism because they share genes, and if one person has the gene then it's likely to assume that someone else in the family does as well.

Take my family as an example: my grandfather is autistic, so was his brother, and his sister's daughters(identical twins) were both autistic(because they share 100% DNA so if one is autistic likely the other is too), and so were their kids. So even though my great aunt is NOT autistic, both her brothers are, which meant she carried the gene for it, and it passed down to her kids and grandkids. Now none of my grandfather's kids got the gene, but all of us grandkids did. Because even though our moms weren't autistic, they carried the gene.

Now, there's not too much proven scientific evidence for how autism works genetically other than it is passed down and can even skip a generation or two. But because of how society is, especially how afab people are raised in society, there could genuinely be a significant amount of people who just haven't realized that they are autistic, not to mention the over a million people who aren't able to get a diagnosis. So please take what I've said above with a grain of salt.

NOW onto my personal headcanons with the Blackthorns-

I truly believe that Lucie Herondale is autistic and I will die on this hill. Which means that the gene could carry all the way down the Blackthorn line, all the way to present day. And since we know almost nothing about Andrew and Eleanor, we don't know if either one of them had the traits or if they just carried the gene.

Let's start with the oldest(s) and work our way down, shall we:

Mark: the nature audhd, he loves everything plants earth related and spend almost too much times researching flowers and berries that can be grown in California. He much prefers a date to the botanical gardens rather than to a movie theater(too loud) or a library(too quiet). But he loves concerts(jumping up and down bass boosted music).

Helen: the coffee autistic, she loves everything in the world of coffee, and if she wasn't so debilitated by her enhanced hearing making her uneasy out in public she would open her own coffee shop just so she could make coffees all day everyday. Aline gifts her different coffee scented candles for anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays.

Julian: the art autistic, he loves the feeling of paint on his fingers, and has spent an hour rubbing a new and soft brush over his palms and face(much to Emma's amusement). His go-to stimming behavior is sketching something either on scrap paper or with his fingers on the table or on his thigh. He loves drawing over his arms and hands with pen, and he also loves drawing all over his families' hands and arms as well.

(Ty is canon, so I'll skip him)

Livvy: the theater audhd kid, she loves reading Shakespeare and obscure off-Broadway plays. Once a week she puts on a one woman show for her siblings(mostly Dru and Tavvy) entertainment. She collects playbills, cds, records, merch, and autographs from shows she sees(she goes with Jocelyn or Tessa at least once a week) and covers her room with them.

Dru: the thriller audhd, she loves everything that gives her a fright and makes her adrenaline and blood pressure skyrocket. Her favorite "dates" are amusement parks with Thaís and Jaime, she makes them go on every terrifying ride. She, Livvy, and Emma have movie nights where they binge vintage horror movies and play indie horror games. She went bungee jumping for her 18th birthday.

Tavvy: the music autistic, he loves everything in the music realm: instruments, songs on the radio, Broadway musicals, and Julian humming while he cooks. He learns to play over 16 different instruments and uses each one to stim depending on what environment he's in(if he's at Cirenworth then it's violin or piano, but if he's at the NYC Institute then it's drums or guitar, his favorite is playing the pan flute on the LA Institute rooftop with Mark and Kieran).

I also hc that Livvy is trans that her and Ty ARE actually identical but apparently it's weird to say that😒

Sorry if this doesn't make any sense I just woke up from a nap😅-

dude. this is such a detailed ask. shaking screaming silently in excitement that i get to answer this!! all of this detail for me!! this is such a fascination of mine! anyway ANYWAY SO

I love your hc's about the blackthorns especially tavvy, idk why i see him as a musician as well but it just FITS. and hey, they are in LA right?? he def spends his teens sneaking out to see live music and he def gets SUPER into like a handful of artists and spends hours just playing around with their songs, remixing them or whatever (do i do this? am i talking from experience? do i have a sideblog dedicated to it?) and dru is absolutely that kind of adrenaline junkie. so am i! i say she gets really into lead climbing (rock climbing, but the rope is below you instead of above and when you fall it's TERRIFYING) and it helps her get really comfortable with her body esp when she goes with mundanes and downworlders and shadowhunters all mixed up. and i love theatre livvy, i really do, but her canon thing is computers and maths isn't it? maybe she's both. i can see that, different sides of her personality: she's into STEM a lot as a kid but realises she also likes to act when she's a bit older. you're dead right with julian, tbh what he was going through in the tda era makes it hard for me to see his neurodivergence clearly but yeah i can see it, and he's a cassandra clare male protagonist after all, he's gonna remind me of a bunch of people i know irl who are--slowly realising their neurodivergence, shall i say. mark and helen are dead right too. i see it. never did they come across as neurotypical to me.

and i do know, genetics of fraternal twins--if you're referring to the 'twin thing' or whatever i said i was meaning the bond between them and how they communicate so naturally! which is in part due to their proximity being together since the womb, but also because they are naturally so similar and also complimentary and actually, the fact that they both 'adopt' kit into their group is just another neurodivergents unite moment. like, it just works. so naturally.

and i 100% agree with you that yeah, sure maybe they're not ALL autistic in the family but with underdiagnosis and stuff and genetics it does make sense. Also irl i do think that 1% is a MASSIVE understatement (idk what the actual number could be, but the way i go out in public and in community with people i've known for years even when we're not brought together by things in common, and i just get the vibe of people, i'm pretty sure a lot more than 1% are autistic). now, with lucie. i never was quite sure with her, she's very much a could-never-have-been-neurotypical-herondale but the more I think about it the more it makes sense. it's really interesting to see her and james interact as siblings bc they're SO different but there's this common thread of likely being autistic, in fact a specific genre of autistic that clearly runs in their family (and i could say the same of anna and christopher, but that's for another post). anyway. just for fun. I reckon we can trace it back up both sides of their family to Linette Owens on the Herondale side and to Aloysius Starkweather on Tessa's side. and cassie invented genetics again.

but seriously, i fondly summarise tlh as 'bunch of neurodivergents adopt biracial traveller who doesn't fit in anywhere'. like SO MUCH of the cast is autistic coded, trust cassie to do that, there's also a heap of rep of adhd and cptsd and bipolar in the mix and then. there's cordelia

I also have to say I do love your trans livvy hc!! the more i think about it the more i'm like, oh, that could make sense. in the way she presents her femininity (which trans women don't have to!! I know!) and imagine her bonding with diana over it! anyway that's all i have to say. slightly differently coloured features to ty--that's just a technicality right? no, this could definitely work.

#tsc deep dives #tda #tlh #livvy blackthorn #julian blackthorn #ty blackthorn #helen blackthorn #mark blackthorn #dru blackthorn #tavvy blackthorn #lucie herondale #james herondale #linette owens #aloysius starkweather #neurodivergence #autism

[astrhae]

i know i'm asking for pain with this but:

wesper + a kiss on a scar? 🥰

double bluff | angst with a happy ending, canon-typical violence, 4k

------------------------------------

“There you are,” Wylan sighed.

He’d been waiting for Jesper to come back with lunch for two hours. The Van Eck office by the Church of Barter was an imposing building that spiraled upward to rival the Geldrenner’s clocktower. They worked on the top floor there three days a week, taking meetings and trying to grapple with the business – even after two years, the empire he’d stolen back from his father still felt impossibly large.

It felt even more impossible when he was hungry.

Things weren’t a complete loss, though: Wylan had managed to sketch some new factory floorplans while Jesper had been out, and he moved those papers away onto one of the armchairs that littered the private office, wiping the charcoal off his fingers.

They were trying to change how things worked in Ketterdam, but it was far more than an uphill battle. Sometimes, that meant upsetting people: like Councilmen who didn't approve of Wylan's plans to open up new harbors.

Jesper held up a bag of uitsmijter. He swung the door closed behind him with his hip, his pistol clattering against the polished wood. The other matching pistol was on the armchair beside the papers: they were also still working on putting down their weapons, one at a time.

“Sorry,” Jesper dropped the bag over the empty spot on the table. His words curled with the Kaelish accent that rarely ever showed itself. “There was quite a line.”

“A line?” Wylan frowned.

It was past three bells in the afternoon, the sun from the office’s bay windows was already beginning to sink near the horizon in the early winter. No one should be lining up for uitsmijter, which was why Jesper had suggested it in the first place.

“Yes,” Jesper shrugged. “Why don’t we get out of here?”

“Well,” Wylan was about to shrug it off – to say they should eat first – but he caught the red stain on the pistol at Jesper’s hip, stark against its pearl handle, and, “were you in a gunfight?”

“No.”

The answer came far too quick, and far too short. Wylan walked around the table, heart hammering. Hadn’t they talked about this? The uitsmijter shop was nowhere near the Barrel – so either someone attacked Jesper, or Jesper had taken a detour. Or, more likely: both a fight and a detour. His vest was too crooked on his shoulder, jacket far more crumpled than it had been when he’d left the office two hours ago, and was that a shirt in a different color?

They could deal with everything else later. For now, one thing at a time, and the most important:

“Were you hurt?” Wylan strode closer, reaching out to take Jesper’s hand, but –

Jesper jerked away, taking a step back. “I’m fine,” he insisted, lips pressed into a thin line. “Let’s get out.”

“Out?”

This wasn’t like Jesper. Yes, Jesper could be impulsive and brusque and rough, and some days even Jesper couldn’t bear to be touched, the world too full and his heart too hollow to do anything except run. Still, this wasn’t like Jesper – one staccato beat off tempo, and Wylan was stumbling to catch up, to try and understand –

“Yes,” Jesper said again, nodding toward the door he’d just closed. The gaudy laurels painted on it was really something they needed to replace soon. “Out.”

Again, too short and too quick.

Wylan stared at him, grey eyes he didn’t think he knew right now. He’d seen enough people change, seen enough people be twisted out of shape: in front of him, because of him. Until there were no more silver linings to hold onto, only slivers of lies he tricked himself into calling hope.

This wasn’t like Jesper.

This wasn’t –

The door swung open and –

Instinct kicked in. He made a dash for the other pistol on the armchair –

“Don’t!” Jesper’s voice rang out.

And it was Jesper’s voice, because it was Jesper standing in the doorway, shirt sticking wet on his shoulders and jacket gone and a cut dripping from his temple. And it was Jesper, too, standing in the office with Wylan, jacket askew and blood on his pistol.

(read on ao3)

#asks #mia tag #one day i'll come up with a better tag akdsksd #six of crows #wesper #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #i know this wasn't what either of us expected from this but #i promise you more murder poetry soon 😈 #tw: blood

[katiedido2]

Sky Pilots

#fabfivefeb

#fabfivefeb2023

This is for Fab-Five-Feb. I've had a certain engineer miffed with me because I wrote two stories about his kids spending time with his siblings and none about him spending time with any of his kids. And I should because they're his kids, dang it. And… he's not wrong. I hope this goes some way towards soothing the Virgil-beast's ruffled flannel.

Prompts used: underwater and favourite.

------------------------  

Sky Pilots

Alex was seated in the co-pilot's chair of Thunderbird Two, waiting for his father. They were flying - just the two of them - to Sydney to resupply the island. Alex was ecstatic to have time alone with his father on Thunderbird Two. In fact, he was so excited he had been sitting alone in the cockpit, communing with the ship, for a long time that morning. There was something about the big green ‘bird that spoke to his young soul. Kip might go on about the speed of Thunderbird One and blue horizons, and Jack might gaze wistfully at the stars and the blinking light that was Thunderbird Five in the night sky, but Alex knew the real gem of the five thunderbirds was Two. 

It was big and beautiful and carried all the necessary tools to help people. It was practical, and practical was Alex’s byword. Thunderbird One might go fast, but Thunderbird Two had pods with so many configurations he could hardly count. They could go up in the air, overland, underground and even underwater(!) to rescue people in need. And thanks to Mum and Dr Brains, Thunderbird Two could now safely help with rescues in space and underwater. Plus, with the help of some engineers and chemists they knew, they’d figured out how to make it go six thousand miles per hour. This made Two the most versatile ‘bird in the fleet. The other four were mere unitaskers, but Two, Two could do anything. 

Alex heard a metallic zipping noise and looked behind him in time to see Virgil drop in from the open hatch. He waited for his father to close the hatch and move towards his seat before announcing his presence. 

“Hi, Dad.”

Virgil stopped before sitting in his seat and looked in surprise at the bright Scott-blue eyes staring back at him from the co-pilot’s seat. He did a quick double-take, looking at the platform elevator before returning his gaze to his son. “Hi, Alex. How long have you been here?”

Alex glanced at the clock. “Since the small hand was on the nine and the big hand was on the one.” 

Virgil sat and looked at the display on his dash. It was 10 am. “You’ve been here nearly an hour?” Alex nodded. “What have you been doing?”

Tiny cheeks flushed. “Um, spending time with Thunderbird Two..." Virgil tried not to smile. "I looked at the section on Inflaterbags in the instruction manual.”

Dark eyebrows rose. “Impressive. Were you able to read much of it?”

“No. I asked Uncle Jay if there was a text-to-speech function for the manual, but he said no. He did think it was a good idea, though, and would talk to Dr Brains about adding the feature. After that, I mostly looked at the diagrams.”

“Hey, you can learn a lot from the diagrams. And Alex, that was some nice outside-of-the-box thinking.”

The blush deepened, and a tiny smile appeared. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Did you do anything else?”

Alex hesitated. “Well… I wanted to explore the drop-down turret functions but knew you’d want to be here when I did. So instead, I drew the dash and the interior of the cockpit.” He indicated the sketchbook next to him on the seat. 

Virgil blinked at his seven-year-old, and the corners of his mouth curled into a smile. “May I see your drawings?”

“Um, sure.” Ears pinking, Alex handed his father the sketchbook. He helped him locate the first page of that day’s sketches and sat back to watch Virgil look at his work. Alex was proud to have inherited his father’s artistic ability, but he was still shy about showing people his drawings. 

Virgil looked at the detailed drawings. There was one showing the dash and another the entire ship. There was a rather good overhead view of the cockpit. He could see Alex had put a lot of effort into it. Next was a picture of Alex and his brothers with 'their' thunderbirds: Kip, an impish, carefree flyboy in One; Jack, a proud space monitor on Five and Alex, looking cheerfully in command of Two. He knew it was a picture Rebecca would love. Last was a picture of the two of them, grinning like loons, flying Thunderbird Two. It was captioned, 'Thunderbird Two is Go!!!!!!!!!!' He smiled at it. It was his favourite of all of them.

“These are really good, Alex. I like the details in the technical drawings. I especially like this last one. May I keep it?”

“Really?” Scott-blue eyes stared questioningly.

Brown eyes twinkled in reply. “Yeah! I love it.”

“Yeah, okay." Virgil handed back the sketchpad, and Alex stowed it. "Dad?”

"Yes?"

"Would you talk me through your launch sequence? Usually, Kip is here, and I’m not able to pay attention.” Virgil glanced at his son, who shrugged. “What? He’s Kip.” 

Knowing his talkative, yolo first-born, Virgil raised an eyebrow but chose not to argue. “Okay, I can talk you through the launch sequence. But first, let’s get you buckled up securely. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.” 

Virgil rose from his seat and saw Alex had placed his booster seat on the co-pilot’s chair and had configured the safety belt into a three-point harness. Feeling slightly redundant, he checked to ensure everything was in good order and, once satisfied, returned to his seat, where he fastened his safety belt. 

“Alright. Now, this trip is to resupply the island. Which module should we use?”

Alex wrinkled his nose in thought for a moment before replying. “Module two.”

“Why would we use module two as opposed to, say, module three?”

“‘Cause module two has the two chassis that can be outfitted to carry supplies, and three doesn’t.”

His father smiled. “Good.” He selected the second module and lowered the ship to secure it. “And now, we exit the hanger and taxi down our runway to the launch pad.” 

Virgil easily guided the green behemoth down the runway to its launch pad, talking Alex through each step. 

“Can I launch the ship?” 

“Can you reach the control?”

Alex extended his arm but, restricted by his safety belt, he was unable to. “No.”

Grinning, Virgil patted his shoulder. “Next time, kiddo.”

“Okay.” 

“Hey, don’t sound so glum. You’ll be able to reach it before you know it.”

“Yeah. But I’m tired of being short, though.”

“I’m not. Lemme enjoy these little years, uh? You and Kip will be taller than me before I know it.” Alex nodded. Virgil turned on the thrusters, and Two launched into the sky a moment later. Banking to the left, he looked to his co-pilot. “Wanna say it?” Alex’s face lit up, and Virgil laughed. 

“Thunderbird Two is go!” 

“Very nice.” The Tracy men grinned at each other.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome… Please don’t rub it in Kip’s face when we get home.”

“Dad...” Small nostrils flared. 

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Hey, I was once seven with an older brother. Trust me, I understand. But it’s not a kind thing to do. He’ll have to do more flight time on more aircraft before qualifying to fly One. So, it will take him a bit longer to have the opportunity to say, ‘Thunderbird One is go’. Is that clear?”

“Yeah, okay… Maybe the next time we go somewhere together, he can say, ‘Thunderbird Two is go’?” 

Ruffling his hair, Virgil smiled at Alex. “That’s a great idea.”

“And we’ll have to let Jack have a turn, too. That’s fair.” 

Virgil’s smile widened. “Of course! It’s not only fair, but it’s also kind. I’m proud of you for wanting to include your brothers.” 

Goodness, how he loved this kid. Virgil loved all of his sons, but he and Alex vibrated to the same frequency. Kip might look like him, but Alex was him. This made him feel especially warm and fuzzy inside. Rebecca said it was like a flannel hug and called the sensation 'flannel fuzzies'. He had to admit, it did feel like an internal flannel hug. He was brought out of his reverie when he realized his son had asked him a question.

"Sorry." Virgil cleared his throat. "Was focused on the flying." He looked at his son. "What?" 

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly and smiled. "How many more years will Kip have to prepare before he can fly One? 'Cause I have another seven years before I can begin working towards my pilot’s license. Mum will be teaching Kip 'n me in Olivia at fourteen. An' you won’t let me fly Two before I’m sixteen... Remember?”

“Riiight.” Virgil frantically tried to remember the conversation where he had told Alex he couldn’t fly Two before he was sixteen. Or that he could fly Two once he was sixteen. Or that Rebecca would teach the boys to fly on her plane, a de Havilland twin otter. He couldn’t. With a small shake of his head, he made a mental note to ask Rebecca about this later. She remembered everything. “Um, yeah, of course. Olivia will be a good plane to learn on. And you'll want to ask Uncle Scott what he was required to do for his licenses.”

Alex seemed satisfied with his father's answer, and they were quiet for a few minutes as Virgil flew.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna help me fly Two?”

Alex gasped. “Really?”

Virgil laughed. “Really.”

“YES!” He reached for the co-pilot steering wheel and tried lowering it. It wouldn’t move. “Nuts.” He looked at his father. “What do I do?”

“Wait for me to flip this switch.” Virgil reached up and flipped a switch, and the steering dropped down so Alex could reach it. “It’s a new feature I asked Brains to add. It lets us fly tandem.”

“So I’m not really flying, am I?”

“You are. You’re flying with me as opposed to by yourself. I want you to get a feel for how she handles before I let you loose over the wild blue main.” Virgil patted the dash. “She’s a responsive ship, but she likes a steady hand. And you’re not quite there yet… So, fly with me.”

Slightly disappointed but not about to let the opportunity pass him by, Alex nodded and reached for the controls. “Okay.”

“Good. Can you see the altimeter?”

Alex glanced at the dash. “Yes.”

Virgil explained what an altimeter did, what the various numbers meant and what was being measured by the device. “And that helps keep us in the air.”

“Oh. It sounds complicated.”

“Until you become familiar with it, yes. But it’s important for flying.”

Alex frowned. “I see.” 

Virgil smiled. “Don’t worry. You have a lot of time to learn about this and what all these other dials do. There isn’t a quiz for this flight.”

“Mum would have a quiz. She always has a quiz.”

“She doesn’t always have a quiz.”

“She does. Though personally, I think she does quizzes to keep Jack engaged and Kip quiet.” Alex was unprepared for his father to throw his head back and laugh. The sound filled the cockpit. Embarrassed, Alex watched with quiet dismay as his father convulsed in his seat, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’re not going to tell her, are you?”

Virgil gasped for breath and tried to calm down. “Not tell her?” he wheezed, wiping away his tears. “It would be a disservice to your mother not to tell her.”

Alex looked alarmed and skeptical. Virgil laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I promise you, she’ll be as tickled as I was.” 

“If you say so.”

“Trust me. Your mother will find it funny…So, are you ready to fly this ship?”

“Okay, let’s do this.” Virgil talked Alex through how to hold the controls and keep the ship in level flight. After a few minutes, Alex got the hang of it. “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to ease off the controls, and for a few seconds, you will have control of Two. Are you ready?” Eyes elated but face serious, Alex nodded. “And three, two, one….” He slowly released the controls. “You’re flying the big ‘bird. How does it feel?”

Alex didn’t answer immediately. He was so focused on flying he feared he would be unable to also answer his father. Virgil saw his focus and didn’t press him for several seconds. 

“Okay, and I’m going to return my hands to the controls. In three, two, one.” Virgil took the steering in hand. Alex relaxed a little and let go of the co-pilot steering. “How was it?”

“That was awesome!” Alex glowed with happiness.

Virgil laughed. “You did really good. Did you like it?” Alex nodded. “Still worried about how much you have to learn?”

Alex shook his head. “No. Not anymore. I'll be such a good pilot, Dad. I'll make you proud. I promise!"

"You already do."

#fabfivefeb #fabfivefeb2023 #virgil tracy #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbird two #Little Tracys #father and son

[wordsbyparker]

His Marcy. Her Sam. (short story)

(Inspired by @palilious 's 12/06/2022 sketch of Sam and Marcy from “Endgame: A Zombie Novelette”. And yes, I realize these are my own characters. Shush. 😉 I can't do art trades, but by golly I can do creative work trades!)

As he entered the cabin, Sam recognized the signs. Marcy was a little too focused, a bit too quiet. When he heard a deep sigh rush through her nostrils, he knew he had to do something.

"Sweetheart?" he said as he walked over to her.

"Hey, Baby," she responded with hardly a glance in his direction.

"What are you doing?" As if he didn't know. He'd seen this behavior all too often.

"Just looking over the patrol schedule for next week."

Ah. That was it. "How long have you been staring at that?"

Marcy sighed again, the air escaping from her mouth this time. "Alex isn't feeling well, and Claire is helping Edna while she recovers from her twisted ankle, so I may have to take over their shifts."

"What about Margaret? Or me?" Sam asked as he moved closer.

"No, I can't ask her to help. She's got enough on her plate right now."

He kissed her temple with a feather-light touch, ruffling wisps of her hair ever so slightly. She leaned towards him, just a bit.

"Do you mind taking the lead on being in charge this week? These extra shifts may wear me out."

If Marcy felt his arm rest across her shoulders, she didn't show it. "You don't have to do this alone. We can take a few extra shifts each. Maybe we can go out together on patrol, like old times."

She chuckled a little. "You mean before we started dating? Back when we were trying to impress each other and not say anything stupid?"

Sam gently turned Marcy around to face him. Eyes of blue crystal looked up at him, tired, concerned, but still holding the hint of a sparkle. She always tried to take on the burdens of the group, even though he was the co-leader now, and her partner. It was just her nature.

"I was already impressed by you, Marcy. Still am. As for saying something stupid, I don't think that will ever change. For either of us."

He gave her a crooked grin. The one she loved so much. The one that always made her smile. "I love you, you know."

Her smile widened. "I know. I love you too."

Sam pulled Marcy in close and kissed her, his lips soft and strong against hers. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist, supporting her as she let herself be held. She draped an arm over his shoulder, gently holding on to him.

In that moment, the world disappeared. It was just the two of them.

His Marcy. Her Sam.

Being with Sam was the one place Marcy could fall apart, where she could let her guard down and take off the armor for a while. This was where she let him be the stronger one, let him ground her.

And he knew it.

He gladly gave her that space. How many times had she done this for him, when the nightmares came? How many times had Marcy woken him up, reminding him that he was safe and that day was long past, held him tight as the tears poured from his eyes and he shivered?

They took turns being the strong one. And right now it was his turn.

Sam ended the kiss and Marcy looked up at him. "Is this a hint that I need a break?"

"More like a strongly-worded suggestion." They laughed, and Sam felt her start to relax a little more. Sometimes Marcy just needed a hard stop to make her refocus. And sometimes it took him breaking past that stubborn nature of hers however he could.

"Thank you, Sam." She sighed, and Sam noticed it was less frustrated than before. She hugged him tight.

"Come on, Sweetheart. The weather's nice today. Let's take a walk. That schedule will be here when we get back."

He kissed her again, a quick and tender gesture. "And so will I."

#Words By Parker #Rhonda Parker #Endgame A Zombie Novelette #Original Work #Short Story #Sam and Marcy #One of My Favorite Couples I've Written So Far