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#not that its bad or anything its just kinda harder for me to do sketches the way i want them to
autistic-blazamy · 14 days
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julie su doodle
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chamerionwrites · 6 months
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Tag Nine People You'd Like To Get To Know Better
FAVOURITE COLOUR(s): Rusty red-orange, deep cool spruce green, bright cobalt blue, wine red, the various shades of slate green/grey/blue.
FAVOURITE FLAVOUR(s): Weirdly difficult question, in that what I think I most enjoy about food is the way that different flavors and textures complement each other to become more than the sum of their parts. But I am a huge fan of deep rich fruity-savory umami (sundried tomatoes, a great red chile sauce, things braised in red wine) as well as absolutely any kind of citrus or fresh herbs.
Also, while this isn't exactly one thing and it might be simpler just to say that I like strong flavors, I fall firmly into the These Are A Few Of My Favorite Things camp on a lot of polarizingly funky/briny things (smoked salmon, goat cheese, blue cheese, olives, anchovies, preserved lemons, etc).
Also the taste+aroma of both fresh bread and corn tortillas hot off the comal is imo the human equivalent of catnip, ie "provokes immoderate feral delight on some bizarrely primal level."
FAVOURITE MUSIC: The very sexy Bermuda Triangle where blues/rock/folk bleed into and/or influence one another. Anything else that takes my fancy, including but not limited to a lot of soul, post-punk, and highly danceable salsa or big band swing stuff. Sad jazz. Gratuitously melancholy strings. Great lyrics, great harmonies, deep rich vocals.
FAVOURITE MOVIE(s): I have never in my life been able to pick one favorite book, but Pan's Labyrinth is easily my favorite movie.
FAVOURITE BOOK(s): This is the impossible question to me but The Periodic Table, Signs Preceding The End of The World, The Things They Carried, The Little Drummer Girl, and everything Arundhati Roy has ever written are all on the list somewhere.
FAVOURITE SERIES(es): The Same Sky is exquisitely good and The Night Manager is my id-stroking comfort rewatch. I also loved Andor and the first season of Hannibal.
LAST SONG: I was just going through this tag earlier.
LAST SERIES: Thanks to holiday craft fair season I have had zero ability to do longform TV anytime within the last few months. (Also, frankly, multi-season TV series are the one of the most difficult media formats for my brain to engage with; it's a fantastic storytelling medium when done well, but I personally have a much harder time sitting down for two hours of TV than for two hours of reading and thus getting started often feels like a huge commitment. I am really a 3-6 eps and done miniseries person at heart.)
That said I am a big podcasts-while-working person and I've been listening to a lot of Friends At The Table and Bad Gays recently.
LAST MOVIE: The Wind That Shakes The Barley, which has been on the Somehow I've Never Seen This And I Really Should list for a while. It has promptly been moved to the OFC It's Possible To Make A War Movie That Doesn't Glorify War, Y'all Are Just Fools And Cowards list.
CURRENTLY READING: ...I have to admit that I'm re-reading Kissinger's Shadow (to Mark The Occasion).
CURRENTLY WATCHING: Nothing (see above), though I have ambitions of giving Black Sails a shot.
CURRENTLY WORKING ON: The sketching stage of some linocuts, some experimental worldbuild-y map-drawing (important as Cartography And Its Imperial Misuses are kinda thematically and plottily relevant to the story, at least in its nebulous conceptual form).
TAGGED BY @silkenred (thanks!), and TAGGING (only if you want ofc) @sassysnowperson, @tobermoriansass, @cosmonauthill, @essayofthoughts, and anybody else who feels like doing this. (No really, I'm shy about tagging but please do the thing if you're interested.)
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izzynero · 2 years
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ART ASKS!!!!! 4, 5, 7, 10, 11, 14, 21, 27, 29
Hello KT, beloved pal!!
4. Fave character/subject that's a bitch to draw
Don't have anyone in particular in mind rn but the hardest face type to draw when I do portraits is always people with softer rounder faces or very subtle or like idk indistinct(?, basically shit like button noses or something) features. Resemblance is 1000xs harder when you dont have defined lines, angles, or very distinct features to rely on to "trick" the eye into seeing resemblance. Also hate doing landscapes despite how much I like looking at them, I'm god awful at stuff like that, especially when it's a background which why your art absolutely rules to me lol
5. Estimate how much of your art you post online vs. keep to yourself
I actually post most of my finished pieces, like probably 90% lol plus I don't draw as much as i used to so it's like why not post this? The only ones I keep to myself are commissions that the commissioner hasn't given me the ok to post, work I think turned out bad/badly proportioned, or just things I don't find particularly interesting enough to look at
7. A medium of art you don't work in but appreciate
Oh absolutely print makers or like wood work! Especially people that work on wood block prints. I find that absolutely awesome, I've been interested in it cause of my love and the influence from Ukiyo-e but I dont dare try cause I'm god awful with sharp objects hahaha
10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw
Hehehe I dont really draw much clothes when I've done work outside of my usual busts or figure studies but I really love drawing things like sweaters or leather jackets but ESPECIALLY jewelry. Something about making shit look like metal and sparkly gems is sooo satisfying to me.
11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what?
Oh absolutely. When I'm drawing a particular character or person I try to find music I think matches that person/character's personality or vibe and it's a huge help and motivator. If not I just go to my kind of like old reliable playlists like this one or this one
14. Any favorite motifs?
Hmmmm I wouldn't say theres like a figurative motif in my work per say but I like to think the thing that i hope shows in terms of a thematic motif in my work is my love of the human body/face and how humanizing and bonding it is that we all have a special look to us, and that look regardless of its variety or social conceptions, is absolutely worthy of love and poeticism. It is hard to be a person, and it's hard to have a physical body sometimes but isnt it wild that we exist in them anyway, and we survive in them anyway? Why not make every face I draw a love letter of sorts you know? Lol Like I hope it is apparent that I romanticize the shit out of the human face and body and thats what I hope people enjoy about my work.
21. Art styles nothing like your own but like anyway
There's tons but I love when people have very like idk grungey, grimy, imperfect sense of linework. They see the beauty in like not trying to make shit so crisp and perfect and use it to lends such a phenomenal sense of character and life to their work (like Q Hayashida's Dorohedoro). I also looove people who play with the textures of their medium instead of keeping things smooth or flat.
27. Do you warm up before getting to the good stuff? If so, what do you draw to warm up?
Uuuhhh no, which is terrible LMAO or maybe I KINDA do? Like when I'm going to do a portrait I'll occasionally sort through references I have and draw quick lil sketches of OTHER people and it gets me in the mood to work on the main portrait i wanted to. But like legitimate warm up exercises? Nope.
29. Media you love, but doesn't inspire you artistically?
I don't think there is one?? Like I do genuinely find something to inspire me out of anything from all kinds of media in art that I see, listen to, or watch even if I loved it or its stuff I may not particularly like all that much as a whole piece/one that doesn't speak to me. I try to carry something of the things I've seen in art in some way. I usually end up finding one thing I do like about it, say like, the technique or texture used and figure out how that could be useful in my own work. Or I end up finding something I can connect with a little bit to make me go "oh ok I see why you did that" and think about how I would've tried to express something similar. Of course there are form of art and media that are like morally gross or heinous meant to offend or hurt vulnerable people that I DO think can get tossed into wood chipper along with its creator but like why give that shit any acknowledgement? But in terms of the thing I DO love I absolutely find something to inspire and takeaway with me in some format.
Thanks KT!!! 🥰🥰
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"Could you do Teruteru, Hifumi, and Ryoma getting drugged by a love potion and falls (even harder) for the reader (who has already fallen for them)?"
100% I can!! :D
Warnings: Mentions of love drug/potion, slight obsession(?), and swearing.
===
Hifumi Yamada
•Proceeds to rant about how amazing Hifumi is
•Fanfic boy loves you very much!! (Though he did his best to hide it)
•It felt like when a cat loved it owner. Celeste went out the window. This man would get on his hands and knees for you. 🙇🏽‍♂️
•You also loved him very much!! (Literally Taka had to keep Mondo from lunging at you two and screaming "JUST DATE ALREADY!!")
•Oh but what's this? A drink on his desk after a hard day of drawing and writing manga?
•Well of course he drank it!! He chugged that drink and felt quite satisfied after.
•And back to work he goes :›
•He had some music on and his script for his next manga, scribbling out the sketches for his newest manga when he felt the sudden urge to go see you.
•It was nothing too new. Could've been he just wanted to show you the script for his manga!! A beta read!
•So Hifumi happily found you and sat you down, showing you the script for his manga!
•He felt a bit- different.
•He felt like he needed to have you in his arms.
•He needed you closer.
•He needed- you.
•The even more clingy behavior continued for a few days.
•Though you didn't mind, you did find it a bit strange.
•Why was he so clingy?
•You already read this script-
•And read that one too-
•Didnt he have things to do?
•He was going to fall behind in his schedule if he continued like this!!
•So when you saw him walking over to you once again, you pulled him to the side and questioned him.
"Hifumi, you've been acting kinda strange these past few days. Are you okay? Don't get me wrong, I love having you by my side but you're going to fall behind in your schedule."
"Well...I don't really know how to explain it. I feel like I've got to be with you all the time!! A-And I'm getting work done!!"
•He huffed and whined for a while longer as you continued asking him things before he got frustrated with himself and finally blurted it out
"Fine!! Fine. I like you, okay? I have for a while a-and I just didn't know how to tell you-...I found this drink on my desk one day and now that I think about it, it could've been one of those love potions that I've been hearing about...could've made my feelings stronger.."
•He started muttering towards the end but you could understand the gist of it.
•You reassured him it was fine and that you accepted his feelings.
•Which was returned with a loud,
"HUH?!? YOU DO?! WHEN- HOW-"
•*Once again has to calm fanfic boy down*
•After calming him down (again) you went over your own feelings.
•He had the brightest smile on his face I swear
•He just couldn't hold back!
•So he picked you up and held you close, hugging you sweetly
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"
===
Teruteru Hanamura
•AGGRESSIVELY RANTS ABOUT HOW AMAZING HE IS
•Love Potion exists?
•He probably bought it.
•This boy is already so head over heels for you it's absolutely adorable.
•He 100% cooks for you.
•Breakfast? In bed.
•Lunch? Made your favorite food.
•Dinner? You can eat with him! :D
•And his food is just 😩 to die for
•He does his best to tone down the sexual comments a bit, though he can't help if one or two slip out!
•Compliments you every 5 minutes no lie.
•Though he does turn cherry red if you compliment him
•If you allow petnames, he WILL call you darlin' and sugar the most.
•Now for the fun part
•He was most likey cooking and was working with the oven.
•Ovens hot. His clothes are pretty hot.
•So he stripped got something to drink out the fridge
•He blindly took a glass out the fridge and drank it.
•Drank the damn love potion-
•He knew he accidentally drank it. He read the label he had put on the glass right after he drank it.
•Unlike Hifumi, he tried staying away from you
•Poor boy doesn't know how to show such strong feelings :(
•He still does cook for you though
•And leaves you little snacks
•Did yelp when you came into the kitchen once without him knowing (it's true I was the dust on the oven window)
•Alot more fiddly and nervous when he has to go ask you something
•His gaze is towards the floor and he's playing with the ends of his scarf as that adorable accent decorates his speech
•Hes so nervous oh poor baby
•You found him scurrying everywhere once trying to find his hat when you had to point out it was on his head-
•He was so embarrassed-
•He apologized and walked back towards the kitchen
•He cooks his feelings away
•That is alot of food-
•Once he disappeared into the kitchen you went after him
•You had been wondering why he ran away from you every time you saw him
•You were worried :(
•As he went back into the kitchen, he paused hearing someone else's footsteps.
•He turned around and jumped slightly when he saw you
•Begin the anxious southern rambling and questions.
"O-Oh! S/o! What brings you to the...the kitchen??"
"Teru, what's going on? You keep ignoring me."
"W-Well I don' mean to cher' I-Its just I' been kinda stressed lately a-an' I don' wanna bother you with tha'-"
•Oh sweet boy almost cried just talking to you
•He wanted to confess so badly!!
•He just wanted to hug you and bury his face into your neck!!
•But he was so scared :(
•After a good talk, the confession just slipped out of him mid-sentence
"I already apologized cher'..."
"C'mon Teru, what's been REALLY happening with you?"
"W-Well...the truth is I accidentally drank a love potion and since I love you so damn much it strengthened my feelings...I-I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable so I stayed away in case I-"
"Did you just say you love me?"
"I-I did..?"
•Oh certainly he did. And when he realized, he apologized 10x more.
•You had to shut him up by squishing his face
•After a good explanation about you loving him too, he clung onto you with a laugh.
•He sat in your lap (and after some consent) kissed your face all over, muttering a soft 'I love you' after each kiss
•You two sat together like that for quite a bit, just laying in each other's presence
"Thank you so much....you don't know how much that means to me...how much YOU mean to me..."
===
Ryoma Hoshi
•Ah yes. Tiny, edgy, ex-tennis, cat loving, deep voiced boy
•Where do I start?
•Lets start with
•He's absolute shit at feelings.
•Like really.
•He refused to believe he fell for you.
•His heart was racing? No it wasn't. It's probably because he was out of breath.
•He's flustered and blushing? Kinda hot in the room y'know.
•You get the point.
•He hates the fact he fell for you. He doesn't know what to do.
•He lost almost everyone he ever loved before. Why would this be any different? He didn't want to put you in danger.
•Ryoma hanged around with you though. He was a bit quiet but he went basically everywhere you went
•No one really messed with you when little man was with you.
•This was okay. He could hide his feelings. You wouldn't be in danger and he wouldn't ruin his relationship with you.
•Then the world announced a love potion was now available!!
•Ah shit.
•That damn Kokichi.
•All he wanted was some water and that little panta-loving gremlin switched it out with the new potion.
•He had already chugged around half the bottle before he realized it wasn't his juice.
•Ryoma would've just left it at 'Oh I just poured the wrong drink in' if it wasn't for Kokichi coming up to him about an hour later.
"Nishishishi....how's the love potion working Ryoma?"
"The what."
"Oops~"
"You little-"
•Kokichi went to the nurse with a bump on his head from Ryoma hitting him with a tennis ball.
•You thought Teruteru hiding away was bad?
•Ryoma refused to leave his dorm.
•He came out at around lunch time to get food, go to the bathroom, and then back to his dorm.
•No one was allowed in.
•He could feel the effects of the potion working.
•He wanted to get out and cling to you so badly. It almost physically hurt
•Fucking hell-
•Him. Ryoma Hoshi. The guy who basically gave up on life, wanted to run into your arms like a little kid.
•He almost cried.
•Of course you were worried!! He locked himself in his dorm without warning!!
•And he refused to talk to you!!
•You came to his dorm door almost daily, trying to pry open the damn door.
•With no avail.
•Goddammit.
•It wasn't until a few weeks later which he made a plan.
•He'd confess and leave right after.
•If you said no, that would be the end of it.
•If you said yes, ...well he didn't really plan that far.
=
•Ryoma met up with you at the back of the building, looking down at the ground as he heard your footsteps.
•It took a minute of small talk before he started speaking
"Listen, Kokichi switched my drink out a few weeks ago for that new love potion they're selling. I already had really strong feelings for you but with the potion they increased. I know you probably don't feel the same way but I wanted to tell you because it was starting to get too out of hand for me."
•He rambled on a little about how you would never like him and that he apologized for having such feelings and-
•You yanked his beanie down to his face, letting out a small huff.
"Ryoma Hoshi you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to confess. You're an amazing guy Ryoma, and I really do wish you confessed sooner since I feel the same way. Now shut it with all the sad shit and come here."
•You told him, tugging him closer by the sleeve as you engulfed him in your arms
•Ryoma felt like his face was on fire. Butterflies in his stomach and a giddy, tingly feeling throughout his body
•He let out a low chuckle, hugging you back and sighing softly
•This was nice. He felt....loved.
•He liked this feeling quite a bit....he had missed this feeling quite a bit.
"Maybe I should've confessed sooner."
===
AHHHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED IT-
I absolutely adore these three.
If you want me to add or fix anything just say the word!!
I had a great time writing this!!
Thanks for requesting!!!
-Vex ∆
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cocosstories · 3 years
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Pete Davidson One Shot- Jr Writer Series 4
Okay okay what if he kind of spirals after they break up and he’s like using a lot and being wreckless because now that he’s fucked up your relationship, nothing matters. You kinda have to step in and “rescue” him.BUT you make it clear that you’re literally just there so he doesn’t like OD or something. I don’t know lol maybe that leads to hard honest discussions that will make it break them.
Warning: Mentions of drug use
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Getting over Pete wasn't easy. Seeing him everyday at the office was torture but you stood your ground and avoided him at all costs. Not that it was a simple task being as every chance he got, he tried to get you alone.
Things only got harder a few weeks later when you found out you were pregnant. You had no idea what to do. On one hand you knew Pete had the right to know he was going to be a father but on the other hand you were still so angry and hurt, you didn't care if he ever knew.
In your mind, he didn't deserve to know and you knew he would try to use your child to get back in your life.
As the weeks went by, you started hearing rumors through the office about Pete. At first you tried to ignore them, thinking he had just started a new fling with an intern and the thought honestly made you nauseous.
"Y/N, we need to rework this sketch, Pete won't be here this week."
One of the head writers comes in and sits down down.
"What do you mean? Where is he?"
You asked as she sits down with the script.
"What? You haven't heard? The whole office has been talking about it. "
"I don't really listen to gossip."
You try to hide the growing worry in your voice.
"Well apparently, Pete has been going pretty hard lately."
"Hard how?"
Your interest was peaked now but you tried to hide it.
"Lets just say, he's fallen back into some old habits..."
She trailed off and you knew exactly what she ment. Just before you had met him, Pete had gotten mostly clean. Only smoking pot a few times a day the whole time you were together. You knew it was a big step for him and you had given him encouragement to stay clean when he started to slide back.
"How bad?"
Your hands instinctively go to your growing belly as she continues telling you about Pete.
"Where is he?"
You get up from your desk and grab your purse.
"Home I think. Y/N, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I just need to see him."
Was all you said before running out of the office. While on the ferry, you try to call him but his phone goes straight to voicemail.
"Damnit Pete."
Once you get to Staten Island, you get a cab and head to his house.
You have no idea what you're about to walk into or what even what you are going to say to him but you didn't care.
"Hi Mrs. Davidson. Is Pete here? I need to see him."
The severity of the situation was all over Amy's face when she answered the door and let you in.
"He's down stairs."
She gives you a hug before you make your way down the stairs and into the basement.
A musky smell hits you as you navigate your way through the dark.
"Pete?"
Your voice cracks as fear rises inside you.
"Pete? Where are you?"
You call out again before hearing a groaning noise coming from his bedroom.
The door was slightly ajar and you peak inside to find Pete passed out on his bed.
"Pete!"
You run to his side and try to shake him awake, terrified. A sigh of relief escapes your lungs when he opens his eyes and looks at you.
"Y/N? What are you doing here?"
He attempts to sit up and you help him.
"I heard what was going on and I was worried. What the hell are you doing Pete? Why are you doing this? You were doing so well! Why are you throwing everything away like this?"
You turn on the bedside light and he groans again. You gasp at the full sight of him, sunken cheek bones, his skin was so pale you swear you could see through it and he looks like he hasn't eaten in days.
"Why do you even care? I thought you were done with me. Isn't that what you said?"
His words hit hard but you keep your composure.
"I care Pete. More than you know but what was I supposed to do? You cheated on me! I guess I was just supposed to forgive you and act like it never happened huh?"
He doesn't say anything but looks towards the door instead.
"So what Pete? Is this what your life is going to be now? Just you in this room doing god knows what kind of drugs until you inevitably kill yourself? Do you think your mom and sister deserve that? And what about me?"
You stop and force him to look at you.
"Do you really think after everything, I deserve to have this on my conscious? Do you think its fair for you to do this to everyone who loves and cares about you? And what am I supposed to tell your son when he grows up and asks where his dad is?"
The last part comes out before you even realize it and you mentally kick yourself.
"My what?"
For the first time since you had gotten there, Pete looked alert and aware of his surroundings.
You sigh and unbutton your coat, revealing your still small but rounded belly.
"Your son. I'm pregnant Pete."
With that, Pete tries to pull himself up off the bed and make his way towards you, his efforts worthless. You make your way to him, sitting next to him on the bed.
"Pete, please you have to stop this. Your mom and sister need you. Your friends need you. Your fans need you."
You stop for a second and place his hand on your belly.
"Your son needs you."
You look directly into his eyes.
"I need you."
His eyes leave yours and go down to where his hand is still sitting.
"I need help Y/N. I know I don't deserve it but please help me. I'm so sorry"
He begins to cry and you pull him towards you and into a hug.
"I know. I'll help you. We will all help you. Its going to be ok."
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sergeantsporks · 3 years
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Another Shot at Life
Rating: General Audiences, Gen
TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation
Ao3
Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.
Ch 4/7: Welcome to the Family
Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3
A knock sounded on the door, and Hunter looked up from his sketch—not of the door, this time of the view out of the window. Camila had gone out for groceries, leaving him and Vee at home. He was glad about that—he’d fallen asleep leaning against her last night, and now it was just embarrassing to be around her.
“I got it!” Vee called, leaping down the stairs. She opened the door, then immediately slammed it shut, tearing into the living room. “Where’s the phone?!” she yelped.
“What?”
“I need to call Camila—it’s Jacob, he’s here, what is he doing here?!” she wailed.
Hunter marched over to the door and flung it open. “Go away,” he snarled.
“That—that thing is a demon! It may look like a human, but—”
Hunter pushed Jacob back further and stepped outside himself, closing the door behind him. “I don’t care.”
“Well, I do! I saw the staff you had—that was a real magic staff, wasn’t it? And the bird? What are you?”
“I said to go away. You scare Vee. And you kinda creep me out, too. Vee is getting Camila right now, so I suggest you leave before she calls the police.”
“I know she’s not here, I saw her leave, that woman can’t protect you. I am going to get that demon, and if I have to hurt you to get it—”
Hunter punched him in the face. Jacob staggered back with a yell, and Hunter lunged at him, kneeing him in the gut and pushing him backwards to the street. He grabbed a fistful of Jacob’s shirt as he fell, bringing him right up to his face.
“I said to go away,” he hissed, “If I see you around here again, you will wish that you only had to deal with law enforcement, got it?”
“B-but—”
Hunter held out his hand, and Red fluttered to him, turning into a staff. The tip cackled with red electricity, and Hunter held it close to Jacob’s face. “I said, got it?”
“G-Got it!”
Hunter dropped him, and Red returned to its usual form. “Good! Now get your slimy face out of here, okay, okay. Bu-bye!”
Jacob scrambled away, and Hunter returned to the house, shaking his hand. Ow, punching people hurt a lot more without gloves on.
He opened the door, and Vee crowed. “That was awesome! Wait until I tell Camila—she beat him up with her flip flop, you know, you’d think he’d learn to leave us alone. Is your hand okay?”
“Better than his face.”
Camila’s car pulled up into the driveway, and Vee raced towards it. “Camila! Jacob showed up, and Hunter beat him up, it was great!”
“Jacob—oooo I am going to call the cops on him!” Camila gave Hunter a grin. “We can compare notes. I’ll even let you borrow one of my chanclas in case he shows up again.”
Hunter flushed, opening the trunk of her car. “I’mgoingtotaketheseinforyounowokaybye.” He grabbed a handful of bags, marching back towards the house.
“Hey. Hunter.”
He froze in place. “Yyyyyessss?”
“Really—thanks for taking care of Jacob. It means a lot.”
Hunter’s ears burned, and he nodded, lugging the bags inside and setting them on the kitchen counter. Camila brought the rest in, and he went back outside, trudging up the path to the old house where he’d come out of the portal. Red fluttered to his shoulder, and he gestured to the house. “You have any… I don’t know, weird magic palisman feelings?
His palisman shook its head, and he sighed, sitting down on the steps. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He flopped back on the old porch. “I’m never going to get back home, am I?”
Red hesitantly chirped, and a jolt went down Hunter’s spine. “Stay here?! I mean—I like Camila and Vee a lot, don’t get me wrong, but I have responsibilities, duties, I—I swore an oath to the coven, and, I mean, I can’t just abandon Uncle Belos!” He ran a hand through his hair. “But if—when—I go back, will I have to tell him about Vee? I don’t… I don’t want her to get hurt. But I can’t just not tell him, right?”
Stay here. What would he even do? Chase off Jacob and carry in groceries until they managed to get some kind of ID for him? Watch shows with Vee? Get more hugs from Camila? Live with people who said thank you, and I’m sorry, and you don’t deserve to get hurt?
But what about his ears, there was no explaining those, he’d never fit in here!
But then Vee was jogging up the path, tugging on his hand and telling him that Camila had bought ice cream, and they were going to make sundaes, and that he should trust her, he would love them.
And weirdly, enough, he did trust her. And he let himself get pulled away from the creepy old house that would bring him back to Belos, and get pulled towards the Noceda house, where Camila was.
“—and anyway, I really like Amethyst, because she reminds me a lot of myself, but who’s your favorite character?”
Hunter blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“Favorite character? In Stephen Universe?”
Hunter rubbed the back of his head. “I—I don’t know, I never really thought about it. I like… all of them, I guess?” He shuffled into the kitchen, where Camila was singing along to some music, chopping up peppers. “Camila?”
She paused the music. “Mhm?”
“Uhh. So. When do you want me to go?”
“Go… where?”
Hunter shrugged. “I mean—I can’t stay here forever, right? You were offering me a place as a guest, but I can’t just keep taking up space and eating your food, so… when do you need me to go by? I’m trying to figure out the portal, I promise, and then I’ll be out, but if I need to move beforehand, I can—”
Camila put her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “When you figure out that portal. Will you be going back to Belos?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
Camila sighed. “Ayiyi. Madre de Dios protect you. Hunter, you can stay as long as you need. And if you can’t get the portal working—or if you do, and you decide that you don’t want to go back to Belos—we’ll figure it out.” She bopped his nose. “But I want you to stop thinking of yourself as taking up space and eating all my food, kay? It’s been wonderful having you here. And Red, too, of course.”
“But I… I don’t do anything to help.”
“You don’t need to, amorcito. You’re just a kid. You should be worried about—about school, and making friends. Not about where you’re going to sleep and how you’re going to get food.”
“But—”
“If I need help with anything, I’ll let you know, okay?”
Hunter subsided, not entirely convinced. “Okay.”
She went back to cutting peppers. “Good. So. You punched Jacob, huh?”
A smile tugged at the corners of Hunter’s mouth. “Yeah. In the face. And I maybe threatened him a little bit.”
“Good. He locked Vee up once. Thank you for protecting her.”
Hunter’s ears burned, and he looked down at the peppers she was cutting. “What are you making?”
“Stir fry. Want me to teach you?”
Hunter shuffled closer with a tiny nod. He knew how to scavenge for food, of course, and could cook campfire meals pretty well, but the kind of cooking Camila did—he’d never had anything like it back at the coven.
Camila held out her knife, hilt first. “Okay, first, cut the rest of those peppers into strips, see how I did?”
The knife felt awkward and clumsy in his hand. A knife just for cooking. Not stabbing enemies—in fact, this knife would probably be pretty bad at stabbing enemies. Hunter sliced along the pepper, cutting it cleanly into strips. Camila peeled an onion, and handed it to him.
“Okay, chop off the ends, then cut it in half.”
The onion was harder than the pepper—it was round, and kept rolling under the knife. Hunter grabbed it with one hand. “Stay still!” He slammed the knife down onto the onion.
“Hunter—”
The slipped off of the surface of the onion, and he couldn’t stop his momentum. The sharp blade sank into his hand, and he yelped, yanking his hand away. Tears sprang to his eyes, and Camila reached for his hand with a hiss. “Oh, ow, let me see—”
He barely heard her, clutching his injured hand to his chest.
Clumsy.
Stupid.
Useless.
Xxx
Camila watched Hunter go completely stock still, just like he had the night before when he’d punched her on accident. His hand dripped with blood.
“Hey—Hunter—”
“I apologize,” he said in a small, matter-of-fact voice, “I’ll clean up the mess.”
“Hey—heyyyyy.” Camila held her hands up, approaching him slowly. “Shshshshshsh… it’s okay… it’s okay. You’re okay.” She reached out and gently took his injured hand. “Let me see.”
He still didn’t move, but he let her pull his hand away. She examined the cut. “Okay. This doesn’t look deep. You don’t need stitches or anything, just some bandages. Just an accident—happens  a lot in cooking, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
She tugged him towards the bathroom. He followed her, but his movement was limited, restrained. A mix of anger and worry swept over Camila. There was a reason behind why he acted like this, and she was pretty sure she knew who to blame.
Could she really let him go back, on the off chance he got the portal working?
She’d helped with rescue animals before—and they acted a lot like Hunter. Cringing away from contact, fretting—she couldn’t even start to unravel his usefulness complex, but she knew when a creature was hurting.
Vee followed them into the bathroom, her eyes wide. “Is he okay?”
His gaze snapped to her, and a different kind of panic seemed to set in on his face. “I’m okay! I’m fine, really!”
He was talking again. Somehow, it wasn’t comforting.
Camila dabbed gently at the cut with a cotton ball soaked in cleaning alcohol. “Shshshshsh,” she said gently when Hunter yelped, his hand tensing. “It’s okay. I know it hurts, okay, I know. I’m sorry, I don’t want it to get infected.” She wrapped his hand up, and nodded to Vee. “Hey, why don’t you take him outside? He looks like he could use some fresh air.”
Vee grabbed his non-injured hand. “Come on! Don’t pass out on me, Hunter.”
Hunter stuck his tongue out at her. “It’s just a little cut, I’m fine,” he insisted, following her outside.
Camila went back to the kitchen, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. He acted one way around her, another way around Vee. Camila tried to think back on other instances—when Vee had complimented him on taking down Jacob, he had taken it in stride. When she had complimented him, he’d gotten flustered. Based on what Vee had told her about the day before, he’d pulled Vee into the rain, had splashed in puddles. With her, he’d been terrified, and had barely moved.
He’d said Luz had been nice to him—and Camila felt a little glimmer of pride at that. Okay. So, Vee, looked like Luz. Hunter associated Vee as an equal, maybe even a friend. Camila was an authority figure. Owner of the house, the boss.
Camila did not like it.
She’d known what Belos had done to Vee, of course. But Hunter was one of his own, Hunter was one of his guards. She poked her head outside to see Hunter on the roof, trying to coach Vee through getting up.
“It’s not that hard—climb up onto the trashcan—”
“Hunter! What are you doing up there?!”
He jumped, and guiltily climbed down, landing with a little oof. “Sorry.”
“Can you come in for a minute, please?”
He shuffled inside, and Camila rolled a hand. “Relax. You’re not in trouble. But, uh—please don’t climb on the roof, it’s not safe.”
“Parkour was part of my training, and I have excellent balance. I won’t fall.”
“Ayiyi. Okay. Please don’t encourage Vee to get up there, though.” Camila took in a deep breath. “I just wanted to ask—you said you threatened Luz. Will you tell me what happened?”
There it was. He froze again, as if limited movement would make him harder to see. “She had something I needed. So I…”
“Hey. You’re not in trouble,” Camila repeated, “I promise. What did you need?”
“Palisman. And—well, I guess I could have killed the Selkidomus by myself, but she was there, and I had the rat thing, and…”
“Why did you need that?”
“Well—Uncle Belos needed them.”
Uncle Belos. Camila racked her memory, trying to remember if Hunter had ever referred to him that way before—but she only ever remembered ‘emperor’ before his name.
Hunter was watching her expectantly, and she shrugged. “That was all, thank you.”
He exited the house as quickly as politely possible, and Camila sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Okay. So, what did she have? Belos had forged some kind of familial bond with Hunter. He sent him out on errands, errands where he’d run into Luz. Belos punished his nephew when he did something ‘wrong.’ He told Hunter that it was his fault, that he’d set off some curse. If Hunter thought he was in trouble, he froze—making himself a smaller target, or just trying to not make the situation worse?
Either way, Camila’s blood boiled at the thought. No wonder he was so scared of her getting mad—he thought she would hurt him. And no wonder he’d threatened Luz—she wasn’t happy about that, but when she thought about what probably waited for him if he failed, she couldn’t blame him for going to any lengths to complete Belos’ tasks.
Vee wandered into the house, planting herself in front of Camila. “Camila? I was thinking. Hunter probably shouldn’t keep sleeping on the couch. I know we’re waiting for Luz to come home, and when she does, we can figure it out, but I was thinking, she has a bunk bed, and I’m only using half of it, so maybe we could share the room? I know it’s Luz’s room, but I just kind of feel bad that he’s sleeping on the couch when there’s an extra bed right there.”
Camila gave Vee a smile. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, mija. Question—do you think he’s any closer to figuring out how to get back?”
Vee shook her head. “No. He was up at the old house, earlier, but he was just sort of sitting there.”
Good, Camila thought, with a little nod.
Vee darted outside, and dragged Hunter back in, gathering up his armor and uniform in her arms.
“Hey! Be careful with that!”
Vee shook her armful of clothing at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s designed to be tough, right?” She deposited the stuff in his arms, grabbing some hangers. “Come on.”
Camila followed the two of them upstairs. Vee hung Hunter’s uniform up in the closet, and gestured to the bunk. “I’ve already got the top bunk, Mr. Parkour.” She cleared Luz’s stuffed animals off of the bottom bed, lining them up on the desk. “Also, we can hang blankets around the bottom bunk so that it makes a dark little cave—in case you want to sleep in.”
Red flew around the room, singing, and eventually perching on Hunter’s shoulder. Camila pulled out her phone. “Okay, new roommates picture!”
Vee slung one arm around Hunter’s shoulders, pulling him down next to her and grinning. Camila snapped a picture, then laughed at the bewildered look on Hunter’s face. “Hunter, smile!” She snapped another picture, then lowered the phone. “Hey, mijo, is everything okay?”
His face was scrunched up, and he swiped at his eyes. “Why are you so nice?” he demanded, “I’ve—I haven’t done anything to deserve it, I attacked your daughter, and I—”
“You beat up Jacob because he scared me,” Vee offered, “You let Red help me when I was scared.”
Camila put one hand on his scarred cheek. “Hey—hey, Hunter, look at me, mijo.”
He did, his eyes watery.
“Everyone deserves a little kindness. You’ve made mistakes. So what? I’m not perfect, either. But I’m trying to be the best I can. And you deserve that chance, too.”
His shoulders started to shake, and Camila wrapped him up in a hug. “Okay. Come here. Ooookay.”
“I don’t know what I want anymore,” he mumbled, “I don’t know what I want to do—I used to have my future figured out, but now-!”
“I didn’t even have a future until I ran away,” Vee offered quietly, “It’s scary, I know. But it’s better than being under someone else’s control.”
“We’ll help you figure it out,” Camila soothed, “If you can’t go back—or if you don’t want to—we’ll help you.”
Hunter pulled back, scrubbing at his eyes. “I—I’d like that.” He gave Camila a watery smile as Red landed on her shoulder, tweeting happily. “I’d like that a lot.”
Ch 5
21 notes · View notes
randomwords247 · 3 years
Note
When I’m drawing the ponytail I try to do the bump sort of thing, then the spikes and then finishing it, but the shape never looks right to me even if I’ve used a ref
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These are the only examples I have on me but I’ve drawn her a lot in my sketchbook as well
Okay this is a quick sketch so it’s not my best but I’ll try and walk through my process
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Normally when I get to the ponytail I will have already done the body and face and all. Same goes for her long hair - it usually isn’t until I’ve gotten at least the position of her body.
My assumption is (based off your drawings) that you usally for the bump do like a circle?
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So sorta like this (I did like semi circles and then the spikes)
Thats not inherently bad and I don’t think it looks as bad as you think it does. I think it looks alright tbh. But again, not a bad thing to do, and it works.
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For me with ponytails or hair bits that spike up at the end I usually do the first line (in blue) in one fell swoop
Its a super quick hand motion that I've sorta gotten used to doing for different things. It's like an unconscious motion I guess haha, like say certain reactions when playing video games on a controller. There's motions you don't think about or realise your doing with your hands, your not thinking about that, your just thinking about doing the action in the game. But doing it quick is essential or you’ll think too much/wobbly hand will come into play and it’ll look deliberate, won’t look as wavey etc. (Or at least it does for me jhasdhjsda) The spikes are one line too since its like second nature to me to do those sorts of bits with hair but thats like unconscious thing jhasdhjasd
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And that's not to say it's easy to get it right when doing it quick, it took me a few times to get it to look right even for this. Ctrl z is your friend haha. Redoing a line multiple times to get it right is fine and it happens and goodness it's basically every line I do xD.
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An easier way to do this kinda motion would be to use whatever equvilant you have of the Dynamic tool in krita (the program I use). Cuz of the adjustable mass it means you can go slower without getting as wobbly lines or you can make them smoother and more deliberate without making it look unnatural/non curvy. I usually use it for help with lineart jahsdhsd
And thats not to say my method is the most accurate either!
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I mostly do mine from memory (since I keep only drawing ponytail Hilda when I can’t get a reference) but her ponytail is sorta more of a curve (which I dodn’t even illustrate the best but yknow). The bottom spikey covers most of the bottom of the ponytail, the top spikey extends as far out as the as the bump. And theres like a centre point too on the left side. So you could do that in two lines or two swoops to get more of an extruding bit but still have it seem circular and like one line. A lot comes from examining how the show does it and like figuring out ‘how could I do this consistently?’ which sometimes includes quite literally going over the lines and figuring out what works best for you to imitate that.
And it doesn’t always have to be show accurate! You could be mostly show accurate with a bit of your own flair (like what I’m tryna do) or you could straight up do it how YOU want the ponytail to look or how you like to draw ponytails! Anything works honestly. And my personal advice is to experiment and figure out what method works best for you/is easiest for you to do or replicate
So ye this is mostly how I do the ponytail (i think. Turns out having to think about what your drawing and how you draw it makes it harder to know how you draw normally. Like when you consciously think about say holding a knife and fork. Suddenly you don’t remember how to anymore...)
I hope this helps at least a little and is understandable, sorry I rambled a lot, but yeee ^^’‘
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littlemisswolfie · 3 years
Text
Hope That You Fall In Love (And It Hurts So Bad) Part II
<Part I
Here’s part two! There was actually a much larger gap between these updates on ao3 since I just now remembered to post part one here today, so don’t expect part three to come any time too soon. Hope y’all enjoy!
If you have sensitive triggers, follow the ao3 link and read the end notes. I wasn’t personally triggered by anything I wrote, but I have no idea what triggers my readers, and your safety is paramount, so I may have over-warned.
AO3
Langa doesn’t feel anything about moving back to Japan.
He doesn’t feel anything in general, anymore. He knows he should feel something. This is the country he was created in, where he was tortured and trained before he could speak, where he met his mom for the first time in the hospital ward of his prison. But Japan isn’t really anything to him. It’s not a nightmare, because Okinawa, with its sun and warmth, is nothing like Teiko’s stale, cold walls, but it’s not home, because home is Canada, is mountains and snow and Canada Day fireworks and his dad.
He puts the letter his dad wrote him—still unopened—in the back of his sock drawer.
Okinawa isn’t anything.
Langa isn’t anything.
“Do you want to meet them?” his mom asks, a few days after they move into their small apartment. 
She doesn’t have to clarify who “them” are. “No,” he says. “I never knew them well. They probably don’t remember me.”
The Miracles are all adults. They have families, lovers, jobs and friends and lives. Langa doesn't have anything to say to people he hasn’t seen in ten years, and they wouldn’t benefit from knowing he’s alive, so he doesn’t care. 
*
High school isn’t compulsory in Japan, but he attends anyway, because he knows it will make his mom happy. She has enough on her plate, with a new job and having to make new friends, so he has to make this transition as easy as possible for her. 
She’s given up enough for him already. 
Sitting at his new desk at his new school with his classmates all pretending not to stare at him, he decides to get a part time job.
*
He’s on edge the entire time he’s sitting across from Sakurayashiki. He knows, logically, that a lot of people in Japan have started dying their hair to support the Miracles, so this grown man who has an affinity for technology having pink hair doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a Pink Two, especially since Pink Twos were predominantly designed female and his eyes are gold instead of pink, but he still hates the idea. 
He’s not GI-B423 anymore. He doesn’t want to be associated with Teiko.
When Sakurayashiki rejects his job application, he’s kind of relieved.
*
He leaves the calligraphy studio and meets Kyan Reki.
*
Reki is everything Langa isn’t. He’s bright and happy and loud. 
Back in Canada, people like this used to annoy Langa. Too noisy, too close, too much. But Reki is never overwhelming. He’s excited, like a puppy, and he’s genuine. Langa can’t help but be drawn into his orbit, like he’s a planet and Reki is the sun.
Ah, he thinks, in that part of his mind that never really left Teiko. He’s mine.
He lets Reki chatter in his ear about skateboarding and watches him work in his workshop and is—not happy, but content, for the first time since his dad got sick.
*
Skateboarding at S isn’t exactly what awakens that thrill Langa has always craved. It’s similar enough to snowboarding that Langa can let  his body take over for a majority of the beef, so that certainly helps, but it’s not the thing.
The thing is the unpredictability. 
He should probably feel concerned about that, about how the danger makes his heart race, how Shadow’s aggressiveness thrills him to his bones. It’s a Teiko thing, so he shouldn’t enjoy it, but he does. 
“How did you do that?” Reki asks him later as he helps Langa peel the duct tape from his feet. “That was crazy, man!” His eyes are shining, and Langa thinks, I did that. 
“I used to snowboard,” he says, instead of I was genetically engineered and trained for the first five years of my life to be an assassin but I never developed my powers.
Reki grins. “This is gonna be so awesome.”
*
Langa learns how to skateboard fast.
When Reki comments on how quick he’s learning, he gives his teaching all the credit, even though he knows it’s not exactly true. His mom doesn’t tell him much about how Teiko designed him, but he can read between the lines. He’s never had to work as hard to learn new things as the kids around him, particularly if they had a physical element. He’s more observant than usual, and it’s harder to scare him than it should be. 
He could easily make up some other excuse, like his past in snowboarding, but the way Reki’s face lights up when Langa compliments him is too good to pass up. 
*
His mother has never been good at hiding her emotions, which Langa finds more than a little ironic, considering she came to be his mom by working in a secret lab.
After the absolute roller coaster of emotions he sees on her face when she brings up the scrapes he’s been getting from skating, he takes pity on her and tells her what he’s been getting up to. The smile she gives him in response is one he hasn’t seen on her in a long time.
“Oh, baby,” she says, actual tears in the corners of her eyes, “I’m glad you found such a good friend.”
*
Reki’s friendship isn’t limited to skating.
Langa, privately, would have been content even if it were. It would only mean he spent more time skating than he usually would. But Reki seems to genuinely enjoy spending time with him. He gets Langa to do his English homework for him in return for writing out Langa’s notes and homework in his neater handwriting, they spend their lunches together on the rooftop, Reki gets him a job at Dope Sketch, and, well… 
They’re just always together.
Even better, Reki is a very touchy person. It’s unconscious, most of the time, like he can’t help it. A brush against his arm here, a nudge at his side there, an arm thrown around his shoulders while they walk together.
The contact makes him feel alive.
*
He beats Miya, but only just barely. Miya has years more experience than him, and it’s only due to his unconventional skating that he gets the upper hand. The idea of losing… it’s just—unacceptable. Because losing means scrapping. Losing means death.
The way Miya reacts to the loss reminds him of Teiko, so he says, “I had fun. Let’s skate again,” to make that terrified expression disappear. And then Reki starts messing with him, teasing him like an affectionate older brother, and, for a moment, it seems like the night will end there, without any additional fuss.
But then Adam shows up.
*
Adam, even with his blue hair and eyes hidden behind a mask, reminds Langa of a Red Zero. He’s obviously a man used to getting his own way, and that silky smooth tone in his voice when he make innocuous little statements belies the ugly nature underneath. He’s a sociopath. The only reason he knows he’s not a Red Zero with dyed hair is that he feels no compulsion to do what he says. In fact, he feels nothing—
Until he insults Reki and Miya.
“Hey,” Reki says, sounding angry, which Langa has never heard before, “take what you said back.”
Adam, who was about to touch Langa’s leg, straightens, a dangerous smile on his lips. “And what if I said I wouldn’t?”
If Langa were better with his words, he would warn Reki. No, he would say, he’s too dangerous, it’s too risky for you, but he can’t find his voice to say it, so Reki kicks up his board and challenges Adam to a beef.
*
“Sorry about that,” Reki says, later, as they skate home from Crazy Rock. “Betting you, I mean.”
“It’s fine,” says Langa, because he can’t say that means I’m yours to bet without making this whole situation even more strange than it already is.
*
They run into Joe at a ramen shop the next day. His green hair sets Langa off a little again, but Joe is nothing like a Green Seven, so he forces himself to relax a little and listen to the older man’s advice. 
“When did you start dyeing your hair?” Langa asks when Joe stands up to leave.
Reki and Joe both startle a little at the question, like they hadn’t expected him to say anything about it. “Well, me and Cherry were in high school when that Special Diet happened, so we dyed our hair out of support, and I guess the colors just kinda stuck.”
“Man,” Reki says, leaning forward onto the counter after Joe leaves. “It’s so weird to think about the Miracles as adults, y’know? They’re not in the news very much anymore.”
“The Yellow is,” Langa says.
“‘Yellow?’” Reki looks confused.
“Oh, sorry, ‘yellow.’ I used the English word on accident.”
“Oh, cool. Sometimes I think about your shitty handwriting and forget you’re bilingual.” Reki gives him a friendly poke in the side. “But, yeah, that yellow one’s a model, right? Of course he’d be in the news every once in a while. Oh, plus the red one’s adopted father has been petitioning for same-sex marriage to be legalized in Japan for a while now, so I guess you hear about him sometimes, huh? When did you start dyeing your hair?”
“I’ve never dyed it,” Langa says, looking down at the empty bowl in front of him. “My hair has always been this color.”
“Huh. Weird.” Reki shrugs and reaches into his pocket to pull his wallet out. “Joe was trying to be nice, but we still gotta pay.”
Langa’s grateful for the end of the conversation. He knows he’ll have to tell Reki someday, if they remain friends, but the longer he can put it off, the better.
*
Miya drags them and Shadow out to Crazy Rock for some practical training. It hurts to see Reki so frustrated with his own abilities when Langa knows how good he is. Reki shouldn’t be measuring himself  up against people like him, who have superhuman gifts, or Miya, who trains as much as he’s in school to make the national team, or Shadow and Joe and Cherry, who are all adults and have been skating for so much longer than he has. 
Someday, Reki, Langa thinks, someday you’ll realize how special you are.
Langa skates down a little further to grab Reki’s board when it gets away from him to let Reki rest a little, and tries to do the Love Hug Miya mentioned. Reki is quick to reassure him that there’s no way to actually go uphill, but Langa still feels uneasy. 
He knows there’s a way. There has to be. He just hasn’t figured it out yet.
At least he gets to go to A&W afterwards. He’s been missing poutine.
*
Langa wishes there was something he could say that would help Reki when he picks him up for the beef.
Your worth isn’t determined by skateboarding.
Don’t be discouraged if you lose.
Please be careful.
But none of those things would be helpful. Not really. Even if he could say them in Japanese the way he wants to in English, they would still sound condescending, like Langa didn’t believe in him.
So he says nothing.
*
Adam does the Love Hug.
Reki goes flying.
Langa sees red.
“I can finally skate with you,” Adam says, sounding enthralled, almost orgasmic, and the only thing Langa can think about is how easy it would be to kill him for what he did to Reki. It wouldn’t take much. Just enough pressure on the throat. A fall off Crazy Rock. A sharp stone to the jugular or the temple. Langa could make it look like an accident, he’s sure. He got more than enough training to do that much on a small scale like this. And even if he did get caught, hey, at least he would have had revenge for injuring Reki.
But Reki is still alive. Reki needs a hospital more than he needs Langa to kill Adam. 
He’ll get his revenge in a beef.
*
“Please,” Reki says, over and over again. “Don’t race against Adam.”
“I’m going to do it, Reki,” Langa says, just this side of a snap. “Stop trying to convince me otherwise.”
“Look, I appreciate it if you’re pissed about my injury—” And oh, he is, he hates seeing Reki’s arm in that cast, he hates that he had to wait in a hospital again when he last time he had to do that his dad was dying— “but Adam’s really on a whole ‘nother level. You’re crazy good, dude, but he’s just crazy.”
“I’m doing it.” He takes a large bite out of his sandwich, and it must be aggressive enough, because Reki backs off, at least for now.
*
“Mom?” Langa says over dinner that night, one of her few nights off from the hospital. 
She’s at attention immediately, which Langa feels a little guilty about. He knows he really shut her out after his dad died, and now every time he speaks, she acts like she’s never heard his voice before. “Yes, honey? What is it?”
“What—” He takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. “What all did Teiko give me?”
Her eyes harden in a way they so rarely do that it catches Langa off guard. “Nothing,” she says, vicious. “They didn’t give you anything, baby. They gave you nightmares and trauma, and that’s it.”
“There were files!” Langa says, voice raising. He didn’t mean to do that, but it’s happening now, so he has to let it go. “There must have been! And you were a nurse, so you had to have seen them!”
His mom slams her hands down on the table. “That is enough,” she says. “I’ve had a long day, and I’m not talking about this right now.” She stands up, clears her plate, and stomps into her room, closing the door behind her.
Langa groans, pushes his hair out of his face, and grabs his skateboard.
*
He, Reki, Shadow, Miya, and Cherry take over Joe’s Italian restaurant later that night, and as Langa watches Cherry demonstrate how the Love Hug works, something clicks in his brain.
I can do this, he thinks. I can beat the Love Hug.
*
“I’m beggin’ ya,” Reki says, one final time, “don’t skate against Adam.”
“Even if I get injured, I won’t quit skateboarding,” Langa says, but what he wants to say is, I won’t leave your side.
He feels Reki’s fist against his chest the whole ride home.
*
Skating against Adam is—
Langa hates to admit it, but it’s that adrenaline rush he’s been craving. Adam defies logic in every way possible when he skates, and it keeps Langa on his toes. Skating with Reki brings that easy warmth he got on the bunny slopes with his parents as a child, but Adam is electric, dangerous, and everything that Teiko side relishes in. 
“It seems that you’re the same type of person as myself,” Adam says, wonder in his voice, and Langa hates himself for not being able to deny it.
And then he jumps over the Love Hug, and his heart soars, and he thinks Reki, did you see that?
*
“What happened to the promise that you wouldn’t be reckless?” Reki asks after they evade the cops, out by the water. He sounds… he’s not angry, or scared, or worried. His tone of voice is resigned, like he never should have expected Langa to be careful.
“Sorry,” Langa says, but he’s not, and he knows Reki can hear it.
*
He knows he can’t ask his mom for permission to go on this trip without making up with her first, so a few nights after his beef with Adam, he knocks on her bedroom door. “Can I come in?”
He hears the sheets rustle, hears her sigh, and then she says, “Come in.”
He sits on the side of her bed, his back brushing against her legs. “I’m sorry I upset you the other night,” he says, his words halting. Even in English, he can never express himself the way he wants to. “It’s just—things have been getting intense, where Reki and I skate, and I was wondering how much of that was because of Teiko.”
She sighs again, and puts her hand on his shoulder. “No, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you,” she says. “You have every right to wonder. I just hate talking about that place. You’re not what they made you to be, baby.”
“‘Cause I never developed my powers.” He’s sour about that, and he shouldn’t be. It’s easier, pretending to be human when you don’t have superpowers, but he heard all about the Miracle Black Four during the Special Diet, about how he used his powers for years to orchestrate their escape, and he’s jealous. He was engineered to do exactly what Kuroko Tetsuya did, and his stupid body never figured it out.
“Black Fours were doomed from the start.” His mom is trying to be reassuring, he knows, but that’s not really helpful. “GM-B452 was an outlier. In the eight generations between him and you, the scientists were no closer to getting true invisibility to manifest. Infinity was the last generation they were going to produce Black Fours, anyway.”
He’d never heard that before. “Really?”
His mom nods. “Really. They were just going to add the power to the Silvers, instead.”
“What else did my files say?” he asks.
She looks uncomfortable. “Langa, a lot of this stuff—it’s not good, honey. Reading your files when I started made me sick. They knew exactly how tall you were going to be, your projected adult weight, they—” She breaks off, wiping welling wetness from her eyes. “If you weren’t a Failure, and you survived to adulthood, they were going to breed you, baby, with the Pink Two, and the White Ten, if she survived. They predicted which Projects you would find sexual gratification with.”
Langa feels sick, just like his mom said he would. He was—he was a baby, barely a toddler when he and his mom left Japan. These scientists were thinking about his sex life before he knew what sex was. “Why?” he croaks.
“They didn’t see you as human, baby. None of you. You were lab rats with rocket launchers, for all they cared. Only as useful as they money they could make off of you.” Her eyes sharpen. “You said things were getting ‘intense’ with skating. How?”
“Reki was injured during a race,” Langa says, because he figures that all her honesty deserves some honesty out of him. “And I—the guy he was racing against, I wanted to hurt him. I thought of all the ways I could make it look like an accident. But then, a few nights ago, I raced him, and I felt…” He trails off. How can he describe that feeling to his mom without making it seem sexual? “It was like I was flying,” he settles on. “Like, nothing could touch me. I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing. Even though I knew he could hurt me, really, really badly, even though we were going sixty kilometers per hour down his track with no fences to keep us from toppling over the edge, even though he kept touching me…” Thinking back on it now, he feels a little sick to his stomach again, especially when he sees the look on his mom’s face. 
“This guy,” his mom says, voice serious, “is he a teenager? Or is he an adult?”
“An adult.”
“Langa, baby, I know I can’t stop you from sneaking out at night and doing these races,” she says, hands clasping his, “because I know you can always find another way of getting out if I try to stop you, but if this man ever touches you again without your consent, or if he touches any of the other kids you hang out with without their consent, I want you to tell me, okay? It’s not right.”
“Okay,” Langa says, and he knows this is a promise he’ll have to keep. “But—the adrenaline thing, is that—”
“Teiko designed that, yes,” his mom nods. “They didn’t want any of you cracking under pressure, so they modified your brain to send out more adrenaline.” She smiles, a tad sad. “You were always the biggest adrenaline junkie, though. You tried to do everything dangerous you saw the other Projects do during training, even though you weren’t made for full-on combat. It got you in a lot of trouble.”
Langa rubs at his wrists as the phantom pains flare up again. “That I remember.” Then, remembering the whole reason he came in here in the first place, he says, “A friend of mine and Reki’s says hot springs are a good, natural healing thing, so he got us tickets to Miyakojima this weekend. Is it okay with you if I go?”
“As long as you have an adult with you,” she says, and Langa perks up, because he knows just the adult.
*
Reki wants to drag him out shopping, because “I can’t believe you don’t have a swimsuit, man, we’re going to the beach, you need a swimsuit.”
“Reki,” he says, panicking a little, because if his trunks ride up everyone will see, see the brand on his thigh, they’ll know he’s GI-B423— “Reki, I can’t swim.”
Reki gives him an incredulous look. “You’re seventeen and you don’t know how to swim?”
“I lived near the mountains my whole life,” Langa retorts, and, yes, this is good, he can needle back and forth with Reki all day long.
Reki groans. “Fine, then,” he huffs, though Langa knows he doesn’t mean it. “But it’ll be hot, so make sure you dress for the weather, okay?”
“Yes, Mom,” Langa teases, just to see Reki’s face heat up.
*
There’s a girl, on the ferry. 
She’s pretty, in a distant kind of way. She’s not movie-star beautiful, but her hair is long and silky, and her dress compliments her figure. There is, all in all, nothing off about her.
But.
Reki is staring at her.
Langa feels something ugly twisting in his gut. It reminds him of how he felt when Adam hurt Reki, this overwhelming urge to eliminate, to take Reki away from this threat—
Wait, threat? This girl is normal. Nothing about her conveys any sort of physical advantage or ulterior motive. She’s just a girl, on vacation. 
But Reki is staring at her. He’s blushing. 
This girl could take Reki away from him.
It’s a relief when she brushes right by them. If she did try to take Reki, Langa couldn’t guarantee her safety.
Reki would forgive him.
Probably.
*
The beach is beautiful, Langa decides, laying under the umbrella while the others play in the sea. He wishes he could be out there with them, but he knows better; his secret is more important than a little bit of fun.
Someday, he promises himself, letting his hands linger a little too long on Reki’s shoulders while they’re teasing Shadow. Someday I’ll tell them.
Just not today.
*
Sitting around the fancy inn Cherry’s staying at, and thinking about his conversation with his mom, Langa sneaks out of the large room where they ate dinner while the adults bicker. He finds a small courtyard with patrons milling around, settles himself on the deck, and tries to picture himself becoming invisible.
It’s risky, he knows; Teiko Projects glow when they use their powers, so if he is successful, someone could notice. But he’s not actually expecting to be successful, at least not in the psychic capacity. He never was before.
Langa knows he stands out in a crowd. He’s tall for Japan, and his hair and eyes always make people assume he’s a Miracle. It doesn’t take long for people to start glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes, and Langa picks one, an old man wearing a green patterned yukata, leaning heavily against a wooden cane and not even trying to pretend he’s not staring at him, and focuses on not being visible. 
How the fuck do I not be visible?
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. What was it the Black Miracle said during the Special Diet? I can only make someone temporarily forget my own presence. Is that the key? It’s less invisibility and more induced amnesia? God, the other Projects in his Generation used to make it look so easy. One second they’d be standing still, and the next they were glowing all sorts of bright colors and doing what they were made to do. 
He doesn’t think about the other members of his Generation often, so the thought comes as a surprise to him. For just a moment, he lets himself imagine what they would be like, if they’d also been freed like Langa was. 
The moment is brief. Dwelling on those things only made Langa’s heart ache. 
He crosses his arms across his knees, digging his blunt nails into the skin by his elbows, and thinks of the man he picked earlier. Don’t look at me, he thinks, screwing his eyes shut. You don’t see me. I’m not here.
Then, after a moment, he lifts his eyes, and he bites back a gasp, because the forearm in front of his face is surrounded by a faint black outline. It’s not a brilliant glow, like a Yellow or and Orange, but it’s there. His eyes dart back up to the old man with the cane, and he looks dazed, almost confused, like he’s wondering what he was looking at.
He’s doing it. He’s doing it!
In his excitement, he loses focus, and the faint outline fades, but it was there. He isn’t useless like he always thought.
He’s a success. A little bit, at least.
He has to try again. He picks another person, a mother cradling her baby, and tries to recall that feeling, the one right before he noticed the outline. It was almost like… desperation. He was desperate to manifest the powers he was designed with. Desperate to prove himself worthy of…
Of what? The approval of Teiko, a company that doesn’t exist anymore? The approval of the scientists, who didn’t see him as human and thought about his future sex life when he was a baby? The respect of his fellow Projects, most of whom are dead?
The approval of himself?
The desire to try it out again fades. God, what is he doing? He’s never felt inclined to use his powers before, so why now? He should be glad he never developed them. Living in human society is hard enough with his hair and eyes; living in Japan is hard enough with his height and his terrible handwriting and his Canadian habits that contradict Japanese ones. Not having powers, not standing out even more than he already does, should be a blessing.
He thinks about the letter his dad wrote him, still unsealed, in his bedside drawer.
He stands up, brushes his pants off, and wanders back to the group. They’re probably wondering where he is, by now, and he doubts he can use the bathroom excuse again. 
*
Langa knows pretty much right away that the things chasing him and Reki are just normal people covered in mud. Even the overpowering stench of the muck can’t hide that from his senses. But he doesn’t really have any concrete way of expressing this to Reki without hinting at what he is, so he goes along with it, and runs with Reki.
It’s the same kind of rush, skating away from an opponent on a rough course like this, only now, he has Reki with him. Reki’s right next to him, keeping up to him even when Langa’s being serious about the whole ordeal, and keeping a level head when Langa turns around to admire their pursuer’s skateboarding skills. 
Then the thing starts poking Reki’s leg with his stick, and Langa sees red. How dare this worthless human touch Reki like that? How dare they try to knock him off his skateboard, when he last time he bailed, he ended up in the emergency room? He’d like to knock them right off Shadow’s skateboard, but this time, he’s close enough to catch Reki when he falls, so he does.
The weight of Reki in his arms feels right. It feels inevitable, like he was built to hold him. He can feel Reki’s quick breathing, can practically hear his heart beating in his chest, and it makes him think about other activities that could cause that—
But this is no time for that. Not when they’re being chased, not when Langa doesn’t even know if Reki likes boys the way he likes girls.
*
“How did you two manage to not get covered in mud yesterday?” Shadow asks them the next morning on the ferry back to Okinawa. He, Cherry, and Joe are all still complaining about the smell they couldn’t wash off last night.
Joe sniffs at his hand and winces. “Did that ghost thing not chase you?”
Reki goes as stiff as a board next to Langa. “That wasn’t a ghost!”
“Well, what was it, then?” Shadow asks.
Langa eyes a poster about a festival about covering people in mud to protect them from evil spirits out of the corner of his eye and says, “Who knows?” If none of the adults can figure it out, that’s on them. He’ll tell Reki about it later.
*
“Mom?” Langa asks when he gets home after dropping Reki off at his house. 
His mom looks up from the movie she’s watching on the couch. “Oh! Welcome home, baby. Did you have a fun trip?”
But he’s not in the mood for pleasantries. “Did Teiko make me gay?” The word falls from his lips and it burns, like he’s said something shameful. Being gay isn’t a big deal in Canada, at least not anymore, and Langa has always absently supported LGTBQ rights in a distant way that made him think he was probably straight after all and just hadn’t found a girl he liked, but this trip…
“Oh, sweetie.” His mom opens her arms and he falls into them like a child. “Before I answer, what brought this on?”
“I just—you said they had a breeding plan, so I know I’m not sterile, but I’ve never been interested in girls.”
“Is that all?”
Langa presses his face further into her shoulder and says nothing.
“Langa, do you remember what I told you when I took you from Teiko?”
“You—you said you were my mom, and that meant you would love me and take care of me for the rest of your life.”
She hums affirmatively, stroking his hair with her gentle fingers. “That love is unconditional. No matter what you do, I’ll love you just the same. That’s how moms work, honey. So, if there’s anything else you want to tell me, you don’t have to be scared.”
Langa opens his mouth. Closes it. Licks his lips and tries again. “I love him, Mom,” he says, the words soft, like a whisper, like a secret. “I love Reki.”
Her smile is in her voice when she says, “Thank you for trusting me with that, honey. I can tell he makes you really happy.”
“We’re not—together,” Langa interjects. “He—he likes girls, and I don’t know if he likes boys, too. He doesn’t know how I feel.”
“You’ll never know if you don’t take that risk.”
“But it’s a big risk. If he doesn’t like me, I might lose him forever.” The mere thought of not having Reki in his life anymore makes tears gather in his eyes. “I couldn’t do it.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and asks again. “Did Teiko make me gay?”
“Yes,” his mom says, simply. “They knew you would eventually interact with humans, and they didn’t want undesirable offspring. But, Langa,” she continues, cupping his chin and raising his head so their eyes would meet. “They didn’t design you to fall in love with Reki. They didn’t think you could love. You loving Reki is all you, baby. Never doubt that.”
“Do you think— Would Dad—?”
“Your father would have adored Reki,” she says, and the weight that falls from his chest makes him gasp. “Reki sounds so much like him, in the best possible ways. They’re cut from the same cloth. And he would have loved you just the same way as always.”
Langa falls asleep like that, in the same clothes he traveled in, curled up in his mother’s lap like a child. His last thought before he drifts off is that letter he still hasn’t opened.
One day, he says. I don’t want to say goodbye yet.
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sparkly-angell · 5 years
Text
Stuckony Fic Rec because why not
*= series
ATTENTION! LOST ARM (If found please contact:) by Fakesheep-luna Teen, 8k Bucky doesn't understand why everyone is so worked up. He just went out for a few drinks, made some new friends and passed out in a dumpster. No big deal! "No big deal??" Steve squeaks, throwing his hands up in the air "You lost your arm! And you don't even remember how!" "Well, at least it wasn't the good one."
Guys!! This fic is comedy approved! its really good, made me laugh a lot, and the plot? amazing. Go read!
Break In by Tenspencerriedplease 7k Scott Lang, at least, understood why Tony hated this stupid job so damn much. He had a Masters degree in engineering but Tony was working on a PhD. Unfortunately for him even with his previous experience and schooling- good schooling- he was stuck working in a knockoff version of McDonald’s meets Subway. At least he works there until he meets Steve and Bucky.
askfjnsfdjsn aaaaaaaa I love gang AU and this one is Great. Highly recomend!
Brooklyn Boys - Bakey Au* by Quicksylver28 Teen/Mature 27k Tony is a bachelor college professor who walks into Steve and Bucky's Bakery/ Cafe. Awkward Flirting ensues.... and fluff, we wont forget the fluff.
ITS SO SWEET! Pun intended. Gosh, I wish I could eat all those baked goods. Sounds delicious. Anyways, the fic is sweet. Peter is a good friend.
Bruises and Drunken Heart Tattoos by Akira_of_the_twilight Teen, 6k An older man in his thirties was standing over Bucky with a bottle of aspirin in one hand, and the fingers of his other hand still gripping the rim of the cup he’d set down on the nightstand. Amber eyes blinked at Bucky in mild surprise. The man’s lips curved into a teasing smirk. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
I wanna hug Tony so hard over the course of this fic. It’s cute the way they fall in love. And it’s also funny. 
Canvas, Ink & Paint* by Ficlicious Teen, 11k Bucky's got one goal: to rescue a captured SHIELD agent and get out before the guards realize he's not one of them. Unfortunately, apparently he's also got soulmates, and when their messages and sketches start appearing on his skin, his mission becomes a complicated mess of trying not to get caught covered in their ink.
!!!!!! I love soulmate aus and this fic is one of my favorites!! Poor Bucky, tho, he was just trying to do his work. Go read!! 
Carrier by Just_another_tinker Explicit, 49k Steve and Bucky gift Tony with their jacket that survived from the 1940's. Turns out that wasn't the only thing that survived.
YALL. SO. MUCH. ANGST. and with a happy ending? someone said Pining? PERFECTION. I love the group dimensions in this fic. 
Comic Books and Kings by Ashes0909 Explicit, 10k Tony Stark read Captain America comics and everyone knew it, but it was only ever about Bucky Barnes.
Freacking great! Tony having a crush on Bucky before his crush on Steve? Godsent. 
Coffee Love* by Syriala Good, 8k Tony thought his best day was when Steve walked into the coffee shop he was working in. That was until Bucky came in a few days later.
The fluff!! The flirting!! Their kind of pining! *heart eyes*
Cried For Love (Can’t Stand It) by Potrix Explicit, 7k Bucky braces his hands on his hips, and tilts his head to the side, expression caught somewhere between anxious, confused, and nervous. “Well, shit.” “Yeah,” Steve agrees, worrying at his bottom lip, and rubbing at the back of his neck. “That can’t be good.”
Steve and Bucky become spirits and Tony blames himself (which he shouldn’t but thats Tony for you). I love this fic a loooot! (and i wanna hug tony a loooot too)
Difficult Conversations by Yumekiumono Mature, 34k HYDRA had brainwashed their Asset into silence, and then muzzled him to boot. It's not that surprising that Bucky no longer considers talking to be one of his strong suits. So why does he keep having to have difficult conversations? Or, the road to loving Tony Stark is never an easy one.
!!! Man! Tony/Bucky is strong in this fic, but also Steve is there and he is cute. Ive read some WinterIron fics with a similar plot, but the fact that this is Stuckony makes it 100% better. 
Don’t Say It by Bibliomaniac Teen, 35k Tony Stark is autistic and nonverbal. Which is fine, obviously, except for it means that Steve and Bucky don't have his words, and it only takes him a few minutes to decide they don't need to know he has theirs. That's also totally and definitely fine, until he goes and falls in love with them.
So. Fuckin. Good! Soulmate au. Its a must read fanfic. For real. The pining and the angst. Gosh, Tony is the best fuckin person. He doesn’t deserve all this pain.
Eagles by Spqr Teen, 6k Natasha presses her hand over her heart, and – Tony has heard rumors, that her skin is blank, or that she killed her other half, but he doesn’t believe them. “They deserve to know, don’t you think?” “They’ve been together for ninety years, Nat,” he says. “They’re practically married. There’s no room for me.”
Gosh!! Another soulmate au. Me addicted in them? yes. This one hurts more. I think i really cried while reading it. But has a happy ending so its worth it! 
From Winter’s Cold by 27dragons Explicit, 64 Thanks to one of Thor's crazy stalkers, Tony finds himself stranded in the past. If he significantly changes the course of history, he might never get home again. The choice, when it appears, turns out to be not nearly as difficult as he might have expected.
I simply love this fic. One of my personal favorites! Tony is taken back to 1945 and he finds no one other than.... Bucky. Go read! 
Liebestraum No.3 in A Flat by Daecyan_Shikoba Teen, 10k I humbly request to the pianist: Liebestraum No.3 in A flat
Im actually just doing this rec because of this fic. sfdjnsdkjfsn i love it SO much. Pianist Tony has a crush on his neighbours and has anonymous requests to play the piano. Its great. This fic is so relaxing to read.  
Long Distance by Notevenclosetostraight Explicit, 44k At the end of a bad day, Tony gets drunk and texts Rhodey all his woes. Except he typed the wrong number, and has been texting someone named Steve– who is blond, 28, teaches art and somehow charmed by Tonys drunk rambles.
Go read!!!!!!!! Its cute, full of sexy times and fluff. 
Hands by ezazahaz Teen, 1k He pushed harder, feeling the suit start to crack under his metal hand, the arc reactor giving way. Just a bit more force, and it might push through the grafted skin and false sternum that had replaced the device that had once been a part of the man. This time, instead of saving the man's heart, it would crush it, and he could never hurt Bucky again, never hurt Steve again. Bucky has a nightmare.
I know this one is smoll. But! it’s full of emotion and hurt/comfort. It’s cute. Mostly Bucky/Tony
Hollowness by amobisan Explicit, 63k It feels like a hollowness, when Tony first realizes. First sees. And the first thought, the first thought his useless, traitorous, genius brain can come up with was "At least this time when he leaves, it wasn't your fault."
So. Many. Feels. Tony is so selfless and sad it’s painful. But there’s also so much fluff!!! And a Lot of sexy times. 
How Good You’ve Got It by Orphan Account Mature, 2k Tony was only trying to work on deciphering Loki's power signature, which admittedly what Steve would call 'poking an angry brown bear with a pointy stick'. But if he could just- Shit. It wasn't supposed to do that.
Goddamn. One of my favorite fics!! I’ve already reread this like, three times. It’s small, I know, but the plot? Incredible.
Me through Him to You* by sahiya Teen/Explicit, 71k “You’re sick, you need someone to look after you. This mission could take a couple of days, and I want you in one piece when I get home.” Tony sighed. “Why do you care?” Steve’s mouth twisted unhappily. “I hope that’s the fever talking.” He stepped closer. “When I get home,” he said, so quietly that Tony didn’t think even the nosiest of their nosy friends could hear it, “we’re going to talk, all right? Until then, please let Bucky look after you. Consider it me looking after you, through him.”
First fic: sick fic, sick fic, sick fic!! Fluff!!! Love! Second fic: all. the. angst. you never knew you needed, with ahappy ending, tho. 
Not Like That At All by Catchclaw Explicit, 8k One last gig. That’s what Steve tells himself this'll be.
Hilarious! I s w e a r it’s so funny. I mean- theres a lot of smut that happens but the end? comical. And sweet. Go read!
One Date Wonder by Arukou Explicit, 20k Every week, the same guy comes into Steve and Bucky's diner and every week, he's got a new date on his arm. Guy just can't seem to catch a break, and after a particularly bad date, Steve and Bucky start taking matters into their own hands to help him out.
Sweet, cute, fluffy! Poor Tony I want to hug him :’( Amazing Diner!Au, a must read.
Pretend You Don’t Know Me!  by Aknightofagoodking Teen, 16k Peter forgets that his class is taking a field trip to Stark Tower. Tomorrow. ["So you want us to pretend we don't know you that well?" Mister Stark asks, looking somewhat unhappy. "Yes! Exactly! Pretend I'm actually just an intern. Can you do that for me, please?"]
Ok, so this focus more on Peter. But Stuckony as Peter’s dad? Isn’t that just the best thing in the world? 
Scientific Heresy by Antigrav_vector Mature, 34k In the process of running the particle accelerator in his basement and fixing the arc reactor, Tony finds himself flung into the past where he has to take on a fight not his own if he wants to get home to stop Vanko. At least he had a chance to replace the old rector that had been killing him with the new one before everything went sideways... But now he has no choice but to face off with family, friends, and old heroes, and none of that sounds remotely appealing. Well, okay, getting to meet them all during their glory days kinda does.
AAAA Ok, I love time travel stories, so i might be biased a little, but this is the best!! There’s a lot of action scenes which are great and engaging. It’s a must read. 
That Damn Flight Suit by Orphan Account Explicit, 2k James and Steve make a very interesting discovery about what really is under the Iron Man suit. Cue awkward boners, oblivious Tony, and slightly possessive super-soldiers who really don't want to share his...assets... with the world.
I mean- It’s smut. 
The Sex Shop Around the Corner by sadieb798 Mature, 16k Tony really hates his job. When he tries to figure out what he wants to do next, Tony decides that instead of making weapons for war, he should make things for pleasure. So he decides he's going to open his own sex shop.
cmon, tell me this isn’t the best au out there. skdjfsdkfsn but for real tho, the fic is full of fluff, some pining and kind of a mis communication? perfect. 
The Shirt by Sailorchibi Explicit, 3k How an impulsive decision that Tony made at sixteen and an equally impulsive decision that Tony made at forty-three combined to have the best outcome ever.
Smut. Again. But its damn good as well.
The Stories We Write by Notevenclosetostraight Mature, 33k A question at an interview leads to Steve and Bucky discovering fan fiction, and after piles of coffeeshop au's and fake dating tropes (and screaming over ABO fics) they find an author that writes some of the best fics they've ever read-- reader inserts starring a dark haired, dark eyed male reader as their shared love interest.
This fic is so freacking amazing!! Steve and Bucky are such nerds. Tony is mostly unaware until--
Thats it!!! Hope you enjoy reading them all :) If you want more, you know where to find me ;)
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iris-writes-things · 5 years
Text
Two Guys and a Baby: Day 3 part 2
Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read up to 2 chapters ahead as a $1 Patreon patron!
A little voice in his voice in his mind that, had this been a cartoon and not real life, would have manifested as a tiny angel on his right shoulder, shouted as it worked itself into a panic and hid its face into the collar of his shirt, oh, God, Crowley, what were you thinking?! You literally just reconnected with him two days ago, shut uuuuuuup!
Or, Crowley fucks up.
Chapter 5 of 20 Ongoing 1700 words Romance/Humor
It was half an hour past Adam’s bedtime and Crowley had just picked his palette back up when someone knocked on his door again. He sighed and put it back down, stalked to the door, yanked it open and said:
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want it.”
“Good evening to you too,” said Ezra who, in his vintage jumper, vintage shirt… vintage everything looked extremely out of place in the sterile white hallway of the modern apartment building.
Crowley bumped his forehead against the doorframe in frustration. Ideally, he would have gone for slamming, but he knew the other wouldn’t approve.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” he mumbled. He hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but his mind was so overflowing with thoughts that raced too fast for him to grasp them, it might as well have been empty. It had bothered him all day.
Ezra just smiled his usual gentle smile. “It’s okay, we all have off-days sometimes,” he said. “If it’s any consolation to you, I brought you this.” He held up a bottle of wine that had a thin yet persistent layer of dust on it. He must have had it for a while.
Crowley carefully took the bottle and examined the label as he stepped aside to let the other in, only to come to the conclusion he had no idea what the words on the bottle actually meant. “As long as it doesn’t taste like cork or vinegar, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” After all, years old wine wasn’t the worst thing Crowley had drank. “I’ll get some glasses and a corkscrew. You make yourself at home in the meantime.”
Once in the kitchen, Crowley smacked his head against the cabinet a little harder. What on Earth was Ezra doing here? Better yet, why hadn't Crowley just sent him away?
Then again, there was no use dwelling on it now. And who knew, a little alcohol might actually slow his thoughts down enough to firmly grasp one by the balls and demand to know what it wanted from him.
With newfound resolution, he took two wine glasses from the cabinet, produced a corkscrew from the drawer under his pristine cooktop and returned to the living room.
“Sorry I took so long, I usually get the bottles with the screw—”
Crowley stopped dead in his tracks when he found Ezra standing at his drawing board, smoothing down the crumpled and discarded sketches with gentle hands and glancing at the canvas on the easel next to it. He heard the man murmur to himself, but didn't catch a single word of it. What did catch his attention were his eyes. Striking blue, creased with fondness, but still sparkling with youth. He knew Ezra was a little older than him, but it never made him any less charming.
He realized a little too late he was staring. Ezra turned to him and smiled.
“Ah, sorry my dear, I was just admiring your handiwork,” he said, beaming more brightly at Crowley than he had all day. He considered putting his sunglasses back on.
“Oh, that? That's nowhere near where I want it to be,” Crowley scoffed in a weak attempt to play it cool.
“That's okay. There's more than enough time to figure it out.”
“If you say so,” Crowley mumbled, yet he couldn't help the smile creeping to his face. He picked the bottle of wine from the glass salon table, twisted the corkscrew into the cork and pulled. And pulled. And pulled…
Ezra chuckled. “Here, let me help you,” he offered and reached to take the bottle, brushing against his hand.
Crowley dropped it, Ezra caught it.
“See, the trick is that you need to twist the cork while you pull it out,” he said as he did just that, pulling out the cork with a satisfying pop. “There we go. Now, I believe you were holding some glasses?”
“What? Oh, right,” Crowley stammered as he tried to regain his composure. He held out the glasses and Ezra poured. And poured. And poured…
“Are you sure you know how this works?” He dared to venture when the wine was nearing the rim of the glass. Ezra stopped pouring with one millimeter to go.
“I do. I just figured you could use it,” Ezra shrugged as he poured himself the normal amount.
“I was that much of a mess, wasn't I?” Crowley asked before carefully slurping some wine from the top of his glass. It tasted like what he imagined a mouldy gym sock to taste like, but still, he persisted. It wasn’t so bad once you got used to it.
“If I'm completely honest, you still look like a mess.”
“Of course I do.”
“I don't care that you do. And I don't know what all that in the bookshop was about and I can imagine that you absolutely won't feel like it, but if you want, you can always talk to me.”
Crowley groaned. What he had said and done in the bookshop was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. He placed his wine on the table and sat down on his white leather couch, his back hunched slightly.
Ezra followed suit.
“These last few days, I've been thinking a lot. There are things in my life that you've made me reconsider and I just don't know how to cope,” he admitted, masterfully dancing around Ezra’s quest for answers. Crowley gazed up, and Ezra seemed to be taken aback.
“I'm sorry dear, but I'm afraid you're giving me too much credit.”
An exasperated laugh escaped Crowley's throat and he took another swig from his wine. It seemed to taste better this time around, but then again, perhaps that was only because it was starting to work.
“I'm really not. You were right about my job. I'm actually glad to be out of the office for a while. Lucy seems to be the only redeeming factor. My work is boring, and Hastings and Liggett, the head of studios and head creative, they make my life a living Hell at every chance they get. It gives me security, but it drains me. And it certainly doesn't make me happy…”
Ezra reached and took his hand. It was soft and warm. Hot, even. And yet, Crowley didn't recoil. In fact, he squeezed back.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel this way,” he whispered.
“No, it's… It's okay. I needed that wake-up call, I think. I mean, now that I'm drawing and painting and having fun again, I'm actually realizing how shit my job is,” Crowley smiled, but it quickly faltered. “Except if I were to quit I would have to figure out how to make a viable income from my art.”
Ezra raised his hand to make a suggestion.
“Drawing portraits in the park for tourists is an absolute last resort,” Crowley insisted.
And Ezra immediately lowered his hand again.
“I appreciate it, though. And you in general, you know.” He took another swig from his wine for courage. “You,” he started, “are very…”
A little voice in his voice in his mind that, had this been a cartoon and not real life, would have manifested as a tiny angel on his right shoulder, shouted as it worked itself into a panic and hid its face into the collar of his shirt.
Oh, God, Crowley, what were you thinking?! You literally just reconnected with him two days ago, shut uuuuuuup!
Another little voice in his mind that, had this been a cartoon and not real life, would have manifested as a tiny devil on his left shoulder shouted kicking, screaming and pulling at his hair.
Just fucking say it you fucking coward, you started this, now with God as my witness, you’re going to finish it!
"Persuasive?" Crowley tried.
Ezra quirked an eyebrow.
Wrong word. Try again.
"Learned?"
He frowned.
Fuck. Third time's the charm.
"Wise," Crowley finally settled on.
Ezra smiled. "Thanks, but I'm not that much older or smarter than you."
"Since when does that matter?"
Ezra shrugged. "They say wisdom comes with age."
"As do wrinkles, but you still look like one of those, whatchamacallit…" Crowley wracked his mind for his hungover art history lessons. "Cherubs, was it?"
"That's what I get for not smoking," Ezra smirked.
Crowley placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "You're too harsh, angel."
"There it is again. Are you planning to keep calling me that?" Ezra asked. Nothing in his tone remotely suggested any objection to this.
"Is that a challenge, angel?" the taller man teased again, leaning closer.
Ezra, on the other hand, leaned backwards. "What are you trying to do here, Crowley?"
There was a pause. Crowley’s breath caught in his throat. The realization that he had no idea what he was trying to do hit him like a brick wall.
Well.
Of course he knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to have a nice evening with a good friend whom he also had a crush on. Why was that so hard?
“I’m sorry,” Crowley said as he pulled himself back. “Just, kinda… I don’t know…” He glanced away. He couldn’t bear to look at Ezra any longer. It was like the angel on his shoulder said, they had just started to reconnect, and now Crowley was going too far too fast. “Forget I ever said anything, I guess.”
Ezra laid a sympathetic hand on Crowley’s back and rubbed firmly between his shoulder blades. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come uninvited. You made it quite clear that you needed space and I didn’t respect that…” he said as he gave Crowley’s back another pat. However, upon likely realizing the irony of the situation, he quickly removed his hand and scooted further away on the sofa. “I should go. You can keep the wine. Consider it a gift.”
Crowley didn’t move an inch as Ezra got up and made his way back to the door. He only buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.
“Until tomorrow.” he heard Ezra mumble before the door clicked shut.
He’d fucked up.
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SO i am taking Neil Gaiman's masterclass. and i figured i might post some of the assignments and exercises on here.
This assignment is about honesty in writing, so the idea was to write about something  like an embarrassing moment or a a secret that you havnt told anyone and to be “more honest that you are comfortable with... so here it goes..
I did this lesson almost a week ago and i have been trying to figure out what to write about. I wanted to write about my most embarrassing moment but half way through i realized that it wasn't my most embarrassing moment, it was a most unfortunate situation, but i handled it appropriately. and although its not something i talk about often it isn't difficult to talk about, so i had to do some thinking, figure out what i could write about that is hard for me to be truly honest with. this is what i came up with...
Thinking about my most embarrassing moment, the first thing that pops into my head was the time I shat myself while out to lunch with my mom. I was 23 and very sick, cancer sick, but I was getting better, I was out of the hospital and starting to get my life back between constant procedures and tests. Ok, so I didn't have my life completely back, but I wasn't inpatient, and at the time that was a massive win. My mother and I made it our little ritual after every test, we would grab a bite to eat usually at this little dive bar/ greasy spoon kinda place called the satisfied frog (sister location to the horny toad… no seriously). I had just had another CT scan, which was no big deal, and they used contrast again, which again no big deal, it was all kinda par for the course by this point. So spent all morning at the hospital waiting for my turn. Then off to lunch with mom. Part of me honestly thinks these lunches were more for her that me. Being able to see her daughter up and interacting with people and eating again, even if it was a massive sourdough patty melt, that was probably 95% grease. After we placed out order and got our basket of fried mushrooms, this piercing shot of pain went right through my lower stomach and I suddenly seized up my entire lower body, and it happened I pooped in my pants a little. I quickly excused my self and ran to the bathroom. I have never been go grateful for an empty single stall bathroom in my entire life. I was in there for what felt like forever with horrible cramps and diarrhea, but apparently it was only about 10 minutes. I was able to clean myself up dispose of my underwear and head back out to my mother with none the wiser. My mom knew something was up and asked for our food togo, she assumed it had something to do with the pic line sticking out of my arm or the medical tube sticking out from my sides that were causing whatever my issue was. It wasn't until we were safely in the car and my stomach issues had passed that I told my mom what happened. I dont think either of us have ever laughed so hard. The more I think about this story though, the less I am embarrassed by it. I mean I was sick, I had a reaction to medication I was given. It was a terrible situation, but I handled it quickly and discretely. So I guess this is less my most embarrassing moment, although it definitely had the potential to be just that, and more a funny anecdote I will never tell anyone… ever.
So what is my most embarrassing moment? What is that moment that I have felt the most shame and humiliation? In the 6th grade I moved to a new state, and so a new school. Again. It was my 8th school I think by that point, so I hadn't really made any friends and was suffering from the standard ‘new girl’ situation. Normally this passes, there are a few bullies, but they get over the new kid stigma and move on within a few weeks. Except in this school, the bully I had the most problems with was the art teacher. I was another student in an already over crowed class, and she took out her frustration on me. She even sat me with the deaf and Spanish kids. Normally that would not be an issue, but in the only class where we get to socialize, she sat the new girl by the students that she couldn't communicate with. Because the deaf and Spanish kids had a translator, that knew the assignments ahead of time she would have her back to me when she talked leaving me to figure it out on my own. She never did anything out right hostile towards me, but made my life a lot harder than it needed to be. So one day I was sitting in detention, along with most of my social science class when this art teacher walked in. She saw me there and sneered, she sneered at an 11 year old girl. And made a comment to the teacher that was supervising detention about me being a bad student. She continued to talk about me like I wasn't sitting right in front of her! I had never felt so belittled in my life. I knew this teacher didn't like me, but to be bullied like that by an authority figure was just a new level for me. She was suppose to be my educator, someone I should look up to. Instead she mocked me, she looked down her nose at me and called me stupid. I was an Honor student, and had always been way ahead of my class, and I had a passion for art, but this woman disregarded me as an ignorant problem child, and if a teacher said it, then it had to be true. Right?
When this happened I was embarrassed because I thought she was right. I thought that she knew what she was talking about and saw something in me that was bad. As I got older and I would think about this I am more embarrassed that I didn't stand up for myself. I know I was a good student, I had always been a good student. The opinion of one teacher who never gave me a chance should not have such a massive impact on my feeling of self worth, but it did. I gave up art after that. I would do my assignments but I thought that if the art teacher hates me then I must not have any talent, I must be horrible. I didn't pick up another pencil to sketch for year after that. I still haven't painted since then. I never wrote that down or told anyone. I lost my passion for painting and drawing because of a few well timed cruel words from a woman who only ever saw me as another body in an over-crowded room.
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gg-astrology · 6 years
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Astrology Readings 💕
💕Hello! I've decided to start a little commissioning page incase anyone is interested in getting one! If you've enjoyed the way I've interpreted charts or just my personal tid bits on how the signs work, please feel free to message to get more information on doing yours! 💕
🚫Notice: Please be 18+ !! 🚫
STATUES: CLOSED
*stay tuned for when it’s opened again! 💕
Paypal Link 💕
*USD price and whatever it converts to in THB is fine! 
WHAT I OFFER 💕:
💕FULL DISCLOSURE: These are rough sketches of work I'll be offering, if you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask/dm me on the Tumblr direct messages (@thechopkins)!  I have my prices fairly cheap since I’m a novice and I’m just doing this for practice, I’ll let you know if I’ve raised the price or if I’m not taking commissions anymore. But I hope to be able to do this as a side hobby for people to learn more about astrology! 💕
PERSONAL READINGS 💕 (needs birth time):
Brief Natal Readings ($10)
(I'll be talking about the things that stood out: your chart shape *if there’s a significance, aspect patterns. Going through your houses and placements one by one, your axis, usually touch decans if I feel we need a closer look at things. Definitely includes asteroids: Juno | Ceres | Pallas | Chiron | Vesta | Lilith | Eros )
I like having a conclusion at the end, something to tie everything together. Usually with these Brief Natal Reading there’ll be a ‘summary’ at the beginning of the reading as well-- to give you a guide of what we got/what to look for, and then we dive into the analysis as we go. 
It’s usually around hmm, 30-40 pages? I write in bullet points so that might be why, it’s just easier to read and see that way.) 
FULL Natal Readings ($20)
Everything included in the above, but with these:  I like to give a further analysis into it as well. 
I usually go for looking at your Rulers-- Chart Rulers, House Rulers, explain your Empty Houses. I take a look at your Draconic's, Whole House (if it makes more sense) Side-reels if it helps. I try to be?? thorough about it?? And explain things carefully if you’re new or need a lil more tutorial or guidance. 
Ahhh most people like knowing their dominants, so I include that (full disclaimer it’s the walter-pullen method) --- but I’ll clearly tell you that ‘it’s just for fun’. 
I think one thing I should mention about this is that--- it can get pretty intense? And serious?? So usually when we talk/get started I’ll ask if you’re comfortable with me hitting on xx subject, and if you’re uncomfortable with it for any reason at all please tell me so I can move around it and give you the things you need without hitting a sensitive subject. 💕
 Usually takes longer to make, I also answer questions you might want to ask. Anything that could potentially be in your chart? There’s a Q&A section if you want.
For those who might want a narrative guide to what each sign does, what each axis, asteroid does. I also have an appendix you can use, but tell me if you’re interested (it’s 20 pages in total so oof) - approx. 60-100 pages? That’s like-- without the appendix.
Note: If you’re interested in Natal Readings here is an answered ask on the Content Outline of What I provide In Further Details 
Solar Return Reading -- $15
(It’s always nice to understand how this year is gonna go. Or maybe just this period in your life if you’re having a hard time/want to experiment? I offer these readings as kind of like, a birthday present for yourself. I guess this is what ‘2019 Horoscope’ kinda deal but actually based on your birthchart so it’s ksdjnfkskn probably more personal to you --- approx 15+pages) 
Draconic Chart Reading - $15 
(For those who wants to get to know their draconics and maybe how to incorporate it into their lives? I look at the Draconic overlaid over the Natal since it gives a lot more insights of how to work with the above and below layers? I know, it sounds mystic as shit but honestly I?? love draconics?? And I rec everything who ever talks to me to go read theirs?? -- Approx 10+ pages ) 
Brief Persona Reading ($8)
(I have to warn you that I’m still a novice, but I think practice makes perfect. So I’ll be offering only a brief interpretation of reading your persona chart, you can choose which chart you want me to read and I’ll do my best to interpret everything together in the most cohesive way possible  -- approx 4 pages +, definitely low balling, just in case there’s a specific q you want answers to and I don’t have much to write about it since its already in the placement ;; I learnt from my mistakes skdjnfskn) 
RELATIONSHIPS READINGS 💕 :
Note: This is for non-idol aka your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner or crush you have a BIRTHTIME with
Synastry Readings ($20)
(I’ve been looking to do some Overlays for a while, so this is where I spend my energy! We’ll look at houses overlays, aspects and your individual want/needs/charts as well. Since the latter is pretty important, it’ll include a brief ‘overview’ for you both individually if you haven’t done a natal reading with me before. Nevertheless, this can be romantic, sexual, platonic, friends, siblings, parent-child, co-workers, classmates. Any relationship you want-- as long as you tell me so I know what I’m looking for/at -- approx 12+ )
Composite Reading ($15)
(This is different from a synastry because composite reading looks at the tonality/dynamic of the relationship overall! 💕 It’s not just trying to mesh two different people together and try to fit them into each other, it’s looking at how they interact with each other and the tone of their relationship. It’s really nice and fun to read, I recommend getting this one as well since it’s abit cheaper than the synastry one ya know - approx 12+)
IDOL READINGS/SHIPS/GROUPS 💕:
MTL - *cap. at 13 members ($10)
Note: If you’re interested in an Outline for MTL readings here’s an answered ask that briefly explains what’s included 
4 rankings (one conclusive one and 3 to start off with) because You Always Want To Know What Kind of Dynamic You Can Have With Someone In Full Details -- Platonic, Nemesis or Otherwise.
So I give you 3 rankings (no, trust me it’s NOT an overkill) -- and then we talk about Each Member and Your Aspects With Them. I’ll explain how the dynamic works, the little things about it to overall themes between you. Compare it to other members as we go so you get a cohesive idea of how you fit between all the members (kinda like, compare yourself to them as well).
And then we have a conclusive-- which I give you the last Rank (after the analysis) and explain briefly why I choose that order. You Will See.
Takes like, a day to finish. The Fastest out of all my readings (a day for 7 members, I’m not sure about more than that yet -- 20+ pages)
Compatibility Reading: 1 selected member ($ 15)
DISCLAIMER: It's all fun and games but please remember that your development is most important and no matter how fruitful or positive this dynamic might be, if you don't work on yourself then it's going to be harder to accomplish this 'potential' that you have. Also please don't feel discouraged to ask for the members you think you might not have compatibility with, as long as you like them or your curious, perhaps this can be a new way of looking past archetypes of the signs and help you gain hope in your shared dynamic 
I’m gonna be honest with you, sometimes I’ve done reading where the compatibility isn’t positive but I’ll do my best to pull some of it out and give you advice. If I feel really really bad, I include ‘other placements’ that might be good for you instead (or do a little ranking list with the other members so you can feel better with the ‘see and compare’ -- I just don’t want you to feel sad if the outcome isn’t what you wanted ;;
The fun of THIS one tho is that we can look at how THEIR planet falls into YOUR house and how it might conjunct stuff (esp asteroid or axis) and tweak it around 💕 Since we usually don’t have their birthtimes however, we can’t look at how you would impact/fall into their houses. 💕Approx 8+ pages (low-balling, just incase-- y know, some people just don’t have many aspects?? ;; it happens)
HOW IT GOES 💕:
If you’re interested, here’s some directions on how to contact me! 💕
Please send a direct messaging (chat-system) to @thechopkins 💕(Since this blog has an editor/member besides me, we can’t use the messaging system right now) 💕
PS. If you’re not sure what exactly you’re looking fo, we can figure it out together as well ;; 💕
If you already know what you’re going for, I'll let you know what I’m (possibly) backed up on or if I can get started right away 💕 And then I’ll ask for your birth day, birth place and if possible your most accurate birth time! 💕
Once I have your information/type of reading, I’ll let you know how long it’ll take (since sometimes I’m stocked up, I don’t want you to wait/get anxious about it so you can just tell me!) --- and I’ll make your chart, confirm it with you again so you can check if anything’s amiss (sometimes people are -- specific about that) 💕
I’ll go over the questions, like if you have a preferred name/pronouns, if you’re comfortable with sexual stuff, sensitive stuff. 💕I’ll double check again throughout the reading when I touch on it, especially since some might be--- really sensitive and I just want to see if you’re doing ok/need some comfort in your reading about how to get better (I usually include like, little advice/productive things you can do anyways) 💕
I’m good at--- well, talking to you when I’m working. So most likely you WILL know that I’m working on your chart because I Will Be Constantly Talking To You The Entire Time 💕
Ah, and I usually insist you don’t pay me until I finish the reading. I’ll tell you when I do, and then I take payment through paypal 💕 
After that, I’ll ask for your email and send you a lil message and the PDF reading 💕 
If you want it in any other format, feel free to let me know! 💕
💕That’s all I have for now! Again, I’m still a novice at astrology so all that I’m offering is just my experience/interpretations and current knowledge in the field. 
If you’re looking for a traditional/someone who has been working in the field for longer than a few years, I can recommend/point you to a few astrologers who might be interested! 💕
Generally I'm pretty enthusiastic about learning/talking about astrology, I’m not really doing this professionally, but if you feel like it’s easier to talk to me/want some help, I talk on my dm pretty often so feel free to drop by and I’ll do my best! 💕
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itsjustforce · 6 years
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He Can't Hurt You Now - Bucky Barnes One Shot
This is based off an ask I had sent to @ringpop-poppy and it ended up inspiring me enough to get me to write this awful little thing. You can find the ask here!
First fic I ever post and it's kinda poorly written soft smut. Go big or go home, right? 18+ for the smut pls
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (i guess??????)
Warnings: mentions of past abuse, anxiety attacks, mentions of depression/past suicidal tendencies, mentions and reflections on PTSD triggers, smut, death by fluff, Soft Bucky™, cursing
Words: 4719
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Bri and Bucky were sitting on the couch in the common room, cuddling one another and watching a Disney movie while wrapped in her large fluffy Star Wars throw blanket. ("the fact you have not seen the absolute MAJESTY that is the rest of the Disney films they've made over the years is actually a crime, and I'm fucking SUING the people responsible. Wh-Hey! Stop laughing! I'm being serious here, dammit!")
Bucky had his arms wrapped around the slighter shorter woman, the lower half of his face pressed against the side of her head and allowing him to get a whiff of her conditioner and her vanilla perfume. While the scents were nice, having them forever be linked to this living, breathing ball of sunshine made a warm feeling blossom in his chest and a flush to grace his cheeks.
When he met her, he and Steve had taken Peter to the Captain America museum as per Tony's request. "I'm too busy, and the kid's been wanting to go. And besides, who better to go with than the man himself and his similarly elderly best friend?" He'd said, and Bucky thought if he rolled his eyes any harder they'd get stuck in the back of his head. He and Steve got in some semblance of a disguise, trying not to make themselves look suspicious while not being too obvious, which actually was a bit of an ordeal for Bucky because while it was the middle of July and New York was currently dealing with a heat wave: if he didn't wear his jacket and gloves he would be recognised and probably get kicked out or unwillingly make a scene, which was not exactly what he had on his to-do list for the day.
He first saw her at one of the larger scale exhibits in the museum, and even though he'd been there dozens of times before he'd never seen her before. Her dark brown hair was tied up in a ponytail, showing off her sharp jawline and little assorted freckles, her pale green eyes sparkling as she gave the background behind said exhibit and answered any questions the guests had. She was obviously not wearing any make-up besides a warm pink tinted chapstick on her full lips (which he'd find out was a thing the hard way: he used it once and Sam spat his coffee on Steve in brief shock before bursting into a laugh that had him in a ball on the floor of the kitchen with tears in his eyes), and her excited grin at every question asked caused the corner of her eyes to crinkle, the underneath of her eyes to wrinkle, and her cheeks to dimple and Bucky swore the look alone was the equivalent of being outside in the sun, she just seemed to beam with joy and positivity.
When that group had moved on, Bucky had decided to drift away from Steve and Peter and go to the woman at the exhibit. He was intrigued. When her eyes met his, a spark lit in them and her bright smile found its way back onto her face. Her voice was silvery and kind as she greeted him, engaging in a bit of small talk with him to see where his limit of knowledge was. She was so expressive, from the shifting in her face to her hands gesturing around to accentuate or further explain her points, and even though he knew nearly everything she told him already he found himself gripping onto her every word. She made the facts seem interesting, cracking little jokes and making little comments that got him to smirk and chuckle at, and in the time he spent with her he found himself hooked.
Once or twice a week, when he could, he went to see her, spending time learning tidbits of the stuff he'd missed after the fall that Steve either didn't mention or didn't know, and also getting to know her as a person. She came from a town on the coast of the Florida Panhandle, having a little sister and divorced parents. Her great-grandmother on her mom's side immigrated to the US from Norway in 1921 and her husband was born in Sweden, but Bri wasn't sure when he'd immigrated over or met his wife. She was a bit of a history nerd, being a high school history teacher during the school year and working as a docent during the summer months. She has ADHD, depression, anxiety, and PTSD, the first three causing her to have severe insomnia. She takes medication for her ailments, but for a seemingly bright and bubbly person the fact she had depression and anxiety had surprised Bucky at first. She brought up the fact that she was fairly quiet and reserved when she was just by herself (which was something he'd witnessed himself, but didn't really think much of at the time). If he had asked, she'd tell him vague stories of her battles with her depression, of the very few times she nearly lost, of the times she was fighting tooth and nail just to get through the week, and how even during that dark time she would be found being another person's rock and shoulder to lean on.
"I tend not to let people see that side of me, because the people who know me and talk to me often see me as their own rock. They come to me because something in their life is going to shit and they need someone they know will be there for them and maybe even give them advice if they need it. Hell, I'm one of the most important people in my little sister's life. She-When my dad left for the first and second time, she fell into a really bad state of depression, and like, how could I be there to try and help her if I was openly showing I was in that same spot? I couldn't. From birth I sorta had this personality trait to just be nurturing. It's sorta second nature for me to put my feelings to the side and put everyone else's emotions and issues before my own, because everybody needs that someone who can put on a brave face and be there for them no matter what."
She'd either be listening to him talk about literally anything that could be on his mind, looking at her phone and maybe showing him some of the stuff of technology and the internet he didn't understand, sketching in a little sketchbook she keeps in her backpack, or reading a book. And with both her teaching and docent job, she would tell him that even though she got anxious and quiet around new people and also get anxious talking in front of other people, she took those jobs because history was something she adored and she wasn't going to let her fears stop her. Both were actually some things he'd come to admire about her: her strength to push through and her determination to do what she sets her mind to even if she's at a disadvantage.
It was established early on she knew who he was, she wasn't exactly trying to hide it, but she also didn't say that fact out loud. It was sort of a silent understanding, if you will.
When he'd asked her out on a date, he actually had to be coaxed to do it by Steve, who basically gave him a 20-30 minute pep talk because HOO BOY he was so nervous his metal palm was sweating. But, as time would go on, one date would turn to two, then to five, and then he asked her to be his girlfriend. Their relationship was slow, she moved at the pace he was comfortable with, and she was always making sure whatever she did he was comfortable with it.
"I don't want you to feel like you need to force yourself into situations you aren't comfortable with just to make me happy, okay? Your feelings are just as valid as mine, and I can't exactly read your mind, so please talk to me and let me know about stuff. I don't mind waiting if that means I get to keep that pretty little face around." She'd told him after he had stuttered out an admission that he still wasn't ready to kiss her yet, getting so close to it when he was dropping her off from a date. She had said it so gently, sweeping a lock of his bangs behind his ear while barely touching his skin in the process before gently running her thumb against the scruff on his right cheek and smiling softly. He gave a kiss to the knuckles of that hand instead, giving a small 'thank you' as his chest was filled with a warm feeling that made it a little bit hard to breathe.
Nearly three weeks later, he kissed her beneath a realistic display of the night sky that was projected onto the ceiling in a planetarium they were visiting. (They're both such big science and tech nerds its actually ridiculous.)
Three months pass, Bucky is now comfortable with the more basic displays of affection. Hugging, kissing, hand holding, basic little touches she'd give like cupping his cheek, tucking some loose hairs behind his ears, and nose/cheek booping (her personal favorite because it got him to either grin or giggle). But, at this time, their relationship exits its honeymoon faze and some trials began. Bri very slowly began to withdraw into herself, many of her smiles would eventually not be able to reach her eyes like they used to, she would more often than not be forced to take a nap by her concerned puppy of a boyfriend because she wouldn't be able to sleep well at night: which showed in the dark rings around her eyes, said eyes losing their sparkle and becoming seemingly dull and lifeless, her strained and tired smile, and her increased tendency to zone out or get distracted EVEN on her ADHD medication. He made sure she was taking her medications like she was supposed to, listened whenever she decided to tell him a bit of the turmoil going on inside her, was there with her when she booked an appointment to the same therapist Bucky was going to and went with her to said appointments to make sure she knew he cared for her and that he was always going to be there for her (which actually caused her to tear up a bit when he'd told her that face to face). She got better, and another month later here they are, binge watching every single Disney animated movie because Bucky not having already seen them is "absolute sacrilege" in her eyes.
Bucky got to cuddle with his best girl, her resting on his firm chest while she sits in a space Bucky'd made for her between his legs. He wanted to hold her. He can hear her softly sing along to the songs she remembers, and use her excessive body heat to stay all warm and cozy. He wasn't exactly in a position to complain.
The sound of something vibrating catches her attention, her rolling over and grabbing her phone from the bedside table and looking at the screen. He didn't much mind it at first, but when she tensed up and gave a small "shit" under her breath he looked at her.
"What's up?" He asks, pausing the movie and turning to her. She sets her phone down and turns to him with a small smile and a "it's nothing" before reaching for the remote. He seems unimpressed as he moves it to have it just out of her reach, her looking to him with an unimpressed look. He has an eyebrow raised both expectantly and as a silent question, to which she only sighs in defeat and tilts her head down onto his chest.
"Look, it's nothing. It's just that my dad's come to New York for business and he wants to see me." She says, feeling him tense against her.
"Seriously?" He asks quietly, her tilting her head to see him looking at her with anger.
"Yeah." She replies, placing a hand on his stomach to rub her fingers in soothing circles.
"You aren't thinking of seeing him, are you?" He asks, her sighing and sitting up for him to follow.
"I dunno, Buck. I mean, maybe?" She says, running a hand through her dark brown hair.
"Bri, do you not remember the last time you saw him?" He asks, Bri looking at him with a defensive yet vulnerable look in her eye. One day while she was working as a docent her father and his new family came to visit the museum. Sam had been there watching her on Bucky's orders, him having been on a mission that was set to come in later that night and apparently people already were threatening on hurting her, and after they talked for a bit they said their goodbyes and moved on. But, as the two hugged, she seemed to freeze, and as the family moved on she had to go off to the side and proceeded to have a panic attack. It took a coworker AND Sam to calm her down, and she was sent home with Sam to wait for Bucky.
To say Bucky was angry at the story, and the backstory, was an understatement. He was furious.
"I know, Buck! I just-"
"No, no. He's toxic, sweetheart. He treated you like shit doll, and as long as your my girl I'm gonna look out for ya." He turns her head so she looks at him. Suddenly, a thought enters his mind, and his eyebrows furrow in thought.
"You know I love you, right?" He asks softly, his eyebrows raised.
"Yeah." She murmurs.
"So I want you to be honest with me here. Is he the reason you don't want me callin' you baby?" He asks, her hesitating before she looks down and nods.
"And," she looks at him, confused there's an addition. "Is he the reason you refuse to call me James, even though I've told you that you can."
She waits a long moment, before she sighs heavily, nods, and mutters, "His name is James, so I've kinda just... avoided the name entirely just because of the bad memories it has with it."
"Alright, then y'know what?" He says, her looking to him confused. He pulls her onto his lap with her giving a surprised yelp, having her straddle him as he cups her cheeks.
"How about you 'n' I make it have some better mem'ries?" He asks, tucking her hair behind her ears.
"What uh, what exactly did you have in mind?" She asks, Bucky giving her a smirk. He takes her lips in a soft kiss, his hands moving to rest on her hips. She takes a gentle hold of his cheeks, letting out a satisfied exhale as the tension in her body seems to diminish somewhat. He breaks away to place kisses along her jaw before stopping at her ear.
"Well, I was thinking I'd take care've ya. Maybe have you sayin' my name as I run ya a bath, maybe have ya moanin' it as I eat that pretty lil' pussy've yours, but I'd definitely have you screamin' it as I fuck into ya nice and slow." He takes her earlobe between his teeth, a gasp accompanying the shiver that shakes her body. He lets it go, moving up to hoarsely add, "All ya gotta do is say my name, and I'm all yours doll."
She tightens the grip on his cheeks, moves his head back, and hungrily takes his lips in a kiss. He lets out a surprised noise at the force before completely caving in, kissing her back with the same intensity and fervor. He moves his hands to her ass, and just as he runs his tongue along her bottom lip he gives both a squeeze as a distraction to move her to his half-hard length. She lets out a small gasp at the feeling of him being so close yet so far, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth. He meets her with soft, languid strokes, a sense of calm replacing the more usual heated urgency, and she gave a pleased moan to the action. He broke the kiss, his head ducking to her neck to kiss at the spots that send all of her nerves into a tizzy.
"Gonna treat you so good, sweetheart." He husks out, kissing, nipping, and licking at the spot near her ear and above her jaw. She squirms at the feeling of his lips and stubble tickling the area, her letting out a mix of a giggle and a whine when she can't seem to wiggle free. A warning nip at the middle part of her neck and a squeeze of her hips gets her to stop, her resolve and worries seeming to crumble away like a sandcastle hit by a wave. She lets out an airy moan in response, one of her hands going to card through his shoulder-length locks while the other goes to the junction between his neck and his shoulder. He nips and suckles at the spots on her neck, drinking up every little noise she made to meet it with an encouraging purr.
"God, Buck." She breathes out, biting her bottom lip.
"James, sweetheart. Call me James from now on. Not only gonna make the name better for ya, I'm gon' show everyone how special you are t'me in the process." He murmurs back, kissing the prominence of her collarbones while rubbing on her thighs.
"Feel good?" He asks, slowly running his thumbs up her inner thigh.
"Oh God yeah. Fuck, don't stop." She purrs, him kissing his way back up her neck.
"Who's making you feel this good, huh?" He asks, moving his head up to look at her through long lashes.
"I-You?" She asks, the infliction adding a questioning tone.
"What's m'name, doll?" He chides, almost tutting at her. Her cheeks blush as she looks down, biting her bottom lip.
"Y-You, James." She murmurs, Bucky grinning widely at her.
"And don't you fuckin' forget it." He growls before kissing her deeply. She runs her fingers through his hair, tugging on it from time to time for him to let out a moan. He runs his hands under the hem of her black t-shirt, for a band called 'Ghost Town', and it takes her a moment to break away and tug it off. She wasn't wearing a bra, and Bucky couldn't help but run his thumbs on the hot flesh of the underneath of her breasts.
"You're so pretty, doll. Not only on the inside, but you're gorgeous on the outside, even with these lil' scars've yours. God, I dunno why your dad would even wanna hurt such a sweet lil' rarity like you." He coos, pressing wet kisses to her slowly flushing chest.
"James." She whines impatiently, gently tugging on his hair as the other tugs at his t-shirt. A warm arousal spreads through him at the way she says his name, him grinning wide before he takes her lips in a searing kiss. He places his right arm around her lower back, flipping the two of them over so she lays on her back. He holds himself up with his left arm, the vibranium glinting in the low lamp light as he sits up, removes the arm from under her, and tugs off his shirt to throw it somewhere. Leaning back over her, he watches with amusement as the fingers on her left hand gently trac the gold lines in the dark metal, following them up to the scarred seam of the metal and his shoulder. She rubs gentle little circles into it, getting a pleased whimper from him while he bites his lip. She moves her hand to then place it on the back of his neck, her other hand cupping his cheek while she looks at his face with eyes full of admiration.
"Beautiful." She whispers, her tone soft and sweet as her thumb rubs his cheekbone. He leans in and kisses her again, this time being hot and heavy and brimming with passion. His right hand caresses her body, running over every line and curve with a gentle touch that sends shivers through her. He breaks away to return to her neck, singing sweet praises about her and his love for her as he goes, until he reaches her breasts. He gives each of them equal attention, her mewls, moans, and whimpers sending blood straight to his cock and leaving him achingly hard when he reaches her cotton sheep shorts. He rests on his heels as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of both the shorts and her cotton underwear, looking up at her for permission to get an enthusiastic nod. Tugging them off and tossing them away, he pulls one of her lips to the side to see the start of her slick beginning to coat her folds.
"God, look at you." He purrs in admiration, wetting his thumb in her slick before going to her entrance and pushing in to the first knuckle.
"Please don't tease." She begs, Bucky huffing in amusement as he removes his thumb and places her legs on his shoulders.
"Just wantin' to get right to the point, huh?" He asks, locking eyes with her as he spreads her open and places a kitten lick to her clit. She jumps, letting out a gasp as her eyes widen and her hands dart to fist up her sheets.
"I can do that." He grins, and he dives in, pulling her apart and taking her like a man starved. His every groan is met with a breathy noise from her, ranging from a squeak to a moan to even his own name, her hands clutching his hair like he was the one thing keeping her on the ground. He takes as much time as he can stand, opening her and preparing her for his cock while whispering praises to her and writing love letters on the sensitive nerves of her clit. She comes undone with a loud moan, her shaking thighs trapping his head in place as he rides her through her high and laps up as much of her release as he can. He then takes of his sweatpants and his boxers, grabbing a condom from one of the drawers in her bedside table. Sliding it on, he props himself up over her body to meet her lips with them and his chin covered in her juices. He wipes her slick from his face, quickly licking it off his hand before he kisses her and rubs his cock along her folds to get slicked up, her moaning at the action and the taste of herself. One of her hands pulls him off of her while the other takes hold of his hard member. He lets out a shaky breath, his head falling to her left shoulder while his thigh muscles begin quivering in anticipation.
"Need you in me bad." She pants, lining him up with her entrance while finger combing his hair. He nods and begins pushing in, the two of them letting out moans as he restrains himself from slamming into her.
"So tight, sweetheart, shit you're so good to me, huggin' my cock so nice." He groans out, her responding with a pleased sigh as he finally slides home. He pauses, making to get a grip back on himself and trying to catch his breath. He looks at her face to find her eyes are closed and her mouth is open to let out her gasping breaths. His right hand cups her cheek, his thumb rubbing her cheekbone and causing her eyes to open.
"Always look so pretty around my cock, skin all flushed with y'lips all red and that smart lil' mouth opened up. Lookin' so sinful for me and I can't believe it's all mine." He coos, Bri biting her lip.
"James, c'mon." She whines with a small pout, Bucky chuckling at the look as he begins moving. He moves soft and slow, taking care to make sure he doesn't hurt her while pressing wet kisses to every reachable piece of her. He praises her up and down, leaving absolutely nothing about her out of the equation while giving her scars some extra attention. She's a squirming noisy mess beneath him, running her hands through his hair as he makes love to her. When he begins to speed up in order to catch his orgasm, his flesh hand goes to her sensitive clit while the metal one maps her body even though he knows it like the back of his hand. He never stops the praise, doting on how she feels around him and how well she always takes him. He places his sweaty forehead to her own, their panting breaths intermingling as his long hair tickles her cheeks.
"Sweetheart, I'm-shit-I'm not gonna last much longer." He grunts out, her nodding.
"I'm right with ya, hon. Fuck! I-uh, shit, just let go if y'need to." She responds, his amusement at her cursings shadowed by the feeling of the tightening coil at the bottom of his stomach. He picks up the pace on the stimulation of her clit as his hips begin to slow, the action causing her to gasp and arch her back. As his hips begin to stutter, the keening cry of his name as Bri's coil snaps and her muscles sieze tightly sends him over the edge, his grunting her name as he spills into the condom. He rides the both of them from their high before collapsing on top of her, his heavy body pressing her to the mattress as they catch their breaths.
"James, you're-you're gonna... crush me." She says between breaths, Bucky lifting himself up to look at her with narrowed eyes.
"You callin' me fat, doll?" He jokes, Bri letting out a breathless chuckle that gets him chuckling too.
"I mean, you said it." She responds, him swatting at her causing her to loudly laugh. He pulls out of her, the both of them shivering at the loss before he moves to dispose of the condom. He tosses it, going to the bathroom to clean himself up and grab something to clean Bri to find she's up, wearing his t-shirt and her panties, and entering in the bathroom to do her own business in cleaning herself up. They return to the bed hand in hand, Bucky finding his sweatpants and boxers to pull them on. She's already on the bed under the Star Wars throw, remote in hand as she wakes the TV and goes to restart the movie where they left off. He slides underneath the blanket to lay beside her, pulling her to his side and hugging her waist.
"Movie fuckin' shut off. Was just gettin' to my favorite part too." She grumbles, Bucky chuckling as he nuzzles into her neck.
"You said this entire movie was your favorite." He responds, Bri giving a short huff of air.
"I mean, I'm not wrong, my middle name is a reference to the little white kitten Marie. Even with that said, The Aristocats is a masterpiece, and it really doesn't get enough credit." She retorts, starting the movie again to look at Bucky. She finds him looking at her lovingly through droopy, tired eyes, a lazy smile resting on his face.
"What?" She asks softly, brushing some of his slightly sweaty hair from his face with a soft smile.
"I love you, jus' want ya to know that." He says tiredly, her smile turning into a goofy fullblown grin.
"I love you too, James. Ya dumb goof." She replies softly, booping his nose and causing him to giggle.
"But I'm your dumb goof." He coos, Bri snickering as she nods and wraps an arm around his shoulders.
"All mine."
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because it’s Steve Rogers’ birthday and it’s important to remember the real reason for the season, it would be great if I’d written a fic for the occasion. as usual, I didn’t. however, I actually did give teenage Steve a birthday scene in under bright stars burning, a Steve/Loki fic I wrote for @veliseraptor a few years ago, so I figured--sure, why not, I’ll share it again. 
“When is your birthday?” Loki asks.
“July 4, actually. Just a couple months away now. There’s always…” His lips twitch. “My mom used to say the fireworks were just for me, like the city was wishing me a happy birthday too.”
“I am afraid this is another custom with which I am unfamiliar.”
“Right, yeah, of course. July 4 is America’s independence day, since back in—well, actually, that’s not important. Everybody celebrates with fireworks, they’re like colorful little explosions, and we don’t have a great view but my mom started taking me up to the roof to see better.” Steve laughs a little. “I think she felt bad after a while for telling me the fireworks were for me, but I’d already figured it out, and honestly I didn’t mind. I’m nobody special, I know the city’s not going to celebrate me, but it’s still nice feeling like everyone’s celebrating with me.”
“Well,” Loki says, “to your assertion that you are ‘nobody special,’ I would be inclined to point out that you are almost certainly the only living human to count a prince of Asgard as a friend. Which…focuses on me rather more than I intended.”
Steve snorts. “That was pretty much luck anyway, right? You could’ve stumbled across anybody.”
“True enough. But I met you instead, and I am glad of it. If either of us has cause to be grateful for that luck, I think it would be me.” He darts a glance toward Steve and then away, studying the shoreline, and Steve is suddenly struck by how beautiful Loki is. He’s noticed before, but not quite like this, with the breeze ruffling Loki’s hair and the sun highlighting those fine, sharp features Steve is always itching to draw. He doesn’t just want to draw Loki now, though; mostly he’s wondering what it would be like to kiss him.
It’s a dangerous thought for a whole bunch of reasons, so he stuffs it down and clambers back down off the railing. “Let’s keep going. My butt’s falling asleep.”
Loki laughs but follows him. They spend the afternoon wandering between the beach and the amusements lining the boardwalk, and if Steve finds himself wanting to take Loki’s hand, well, at least he keeps himself from acting on it. By the time they get back to Steve’s apartment, the sun is low, his shoes are full of sand, his trousers are stiff with dried seawater from a failed attempt at outrunning the waves, and his face is sunburned, but he can’t imagine why he would care.
“Thank you,” Loki says again, stopping in the shadow of Steve’s building. “Truly. I am indeed lucky to count you as a friend, Steve Rogers.” He steps back, still smiling, and vanishes.
The next time Steve sees him, it’s slightly more than two months later and he’s sitting on the roof sketching the skyline when Loki pops into existence next to him. He’s doing a terrible job of trying to hide a self-satisfied grin, so whatever his latest prank was, it must have gone well. Before he can ask, Loki says, “Your birthday is soon, yes?”
“Last week, actually.”
“Damn. I’d hoped to find you on the day itself, but—well, nothing for it now. I wanted…” He reaches into a satchel, hesitates, and pulls out a small wooden box. “I brought you a gift. A small thing, but—I hope you like it.”
Steve sets his sketchbook aside and takes the box, intrigued. The top opens on a hinge; inside, cradled in a nest of straw, is a black crystal ball about the size of Steve’s two fists, with a polished wooden base. When he pulls it out, flecks of color glint across its surface wherever the sun hits it. It’s pretty, but he can’t think why Loki would give him a fancy paperweight, and he’s not sure how to ask without sounding ungrateful.
“Put your hand on the sphere,” Loki says, his voice still full of suppressed excitement, “and think of your fireworks.”
Steve does. A tiny spark of light shoots up from the base of the globe and bursts under his fingers, then another and another, red and blue and gold and green, spiraling downward and fading out before exploding again, and his confusion turns to wonder as he stares at it. It’s like a snow globe but it’s full of little fireworks instead, fireworks that look just like the real thing in silent, miniature form. He turns it in his hand and the lights follow the motion, sinking back to and shooting out from what’s now the bottom, in spirals and spiders and starbursts.
“Fireworks in a jar,” Steve says. “This is incredible.”
Loki grins. “It is, isn’t it? I didn’t make the globe, of course, I bought that, but the enchantment is mine, built from scratch.”
Steve turns the globe again, marveling at the tiny little world in his hands. “I thought you didn’t know what fireworks were?”
“As it happens, they are a very old invention—as Midgard marks time, anyway—so I was able to observe some myself at a celebration of some kind in China, and I replicated those. So…now you have fireworks that really are just for you.”
The globe is slightly warm against his palms, and Steve closes his hands over it. “This is—way better than anything I gave you.”
Loki looks at him with a crooked smile. “I suppose that is a matter of perspective.”
“Okay, well, I think it’s great. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome,” Loki says, which would sound formal and not entirely sincere coming from anyone else. “I also…wanted you to have something from Asgard, something you can keep.”
Steve glances up sharply. Maybe that shouldn’t sound final, but it does anyway. “Why?”
“Must I require an additional motive for a gift?”
“No, but that sounded like you have one anyway.”
Loki shrugs. “Pessimism, most likely. I have no talent for seeing the future, but it has become slightly more difficult for me to find you, and in case that trend continues—well. I may be concerned for nothing. But—selfish as it may be—I would like a reason to be remembered, I suppose.”
Steve straightens, frowning. “I wouldn’t need a reason to remember you. And what do you mean, it’s getting harder to find me?”
“Time travel is…rather more complicated than I realized when I began experimenting as a child. Thus far I have met you at appropriate points along your personal timeline. There may simply be longer gaps between visits.”
That’s probably underselling it, but it doesn’t sound like there’s anything Steve can do about it, so he sets it aside. “I’ve been wondering about that, actually. How come you’re so much older than me but you look like you’re about my age every time we meet?”
“I have wondered that myself,” Loki admits. “We seem almost to be keeping pace with one another, so that every time I seek you out, we are both at proportional stages of development even though far more time has passed for me,” which Steve is pretty sure is exactly what he just said except using more words. “I would like to think I am simply that good—”
“And humble, don’t forget that.”
Loki elbows him lightly. “Do not interrupt. I was saying I would like to think so, but I am not entirely sure even the greatest mages would be capable of such precision. I am not even doing anything particularly special, not after the first few times when I deliberately sought you out, and I rather think it was mostly luck that I succeeded at all.”
Steve’s eyebrows go up. “So is that your way of saying you have no idea, for once?”
Loki shrugs. “I have a theory, no more.”
“Of course you do.”
“I might even be convinced to share it with you, if you believe you can cease interrupting long enough for me to do so.”
“I’d just like to point out that everything you say is about five times more wordy than anything I say, so interrupting you is kinda inevitable if I want to say anything,” Steve says, and then raises his hands when Loki glares at him in mock severity. “No, sorry, go ahead, enlighten me.”
Loki snorts. “I doubt it rises to the level of enlightenment. I simply suspect that there exists some sort of temporal anchor binding our timelines together.”
“…you call that simple?”
“As a theory in relation to our situation, yes. As a theory in general, no, but it is hardly necessary to understand the particulars. You haven’t come into contact with any magical artifacts, have you?”
Steve blinks. “Uh. No? Pretty sure I would’ve noticed, unless you mean this.” He holds up the fireworks again, the globe tingling very slightly against his skin.
“Something rather more powerful, I think,” Loki says. “As you say, you would have noticed. It could be something I have already encountered that is yet in your future, powerful enough for its effects to ripple outward across both our lifelines.” He shrugs again. “Or perhaps it is merely luck.”
“I’ve never been very lucky, so I doubt it,” Steve says.
“Yes, well, if you were, I imagine you would’ve encountered Thor instead.” Loki climbs to his feet and offers Steve a hand up. “How do you feel about finding some real fireworks?”
“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Steve says, which of course means yes.
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kosmicdream · 6 years
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Your Comic Baby
You know that comic or story that you made when you were a teenager (or sometimes even younger) that propelled you to really WANT to create it. FOR REAL. You put all your energy towards it, for years, determined that it was going to be the one you HAD to make. But then something doesnt go right because, comics are hard-- so you start over and over and over and each reboot gets a bit more discouraging because you have SO MUCH planned out for this thing and you’re just stuck in the loop of redoing the first 5 pages every couple of years. But something about that story, you just cant let go of. You still want to make it happen because you’ve invested and dedicated so much into it. I know that feeling. I call those stories.. your Comic Baby.
You might have a lot of babies. I know I do. But there’s always this one certain comic baby that i struggle with more than the others. Its a difficult baby because I first made this baby when I was 13. And over the course of my highschool years, I was very outspoken about how i was going to really make this a real book for everyone to read. I was constantly working on it, even taking sketchbooks and clipboards to draw it or the characters in class. People were waiting to read this story because they could see how passionate about it I was. But comics were a lot harder than I thought they would be in my mind. I mean, i knew they would be difficult but it was like my art wasn’t as good as I knew it could be when i drew comics. I didn’t get it. And I’d learn so much and so fast that once i got one chapter finished and ready to read, i didn’t like it anymore.
This process went on until i graduated highschool. This dream of making a comic. Specifically THIS comic. I had a lot of stories i was planning on doing, but there was this one comic i really REALLY invested just. My maximum comic energy into. It was different from the other comics and stories. Not that the other ones werent good, they just didnt have the same bond with me that I had with this story. This comic baby was gonna be the thing i was going to be known for and be the first comic i would presented into the world. And in the end.. it actually wasn’t.
I mean, it was, in a way. Eggshells is a prequel to that baby comic. Set in the same universe. Part of the same story, more like a mini test version reboot of the One True Baby Comic. I decided to give the comics thing another try and started to work on eggshells in August 2011, then to ink in Febuary 2012 and finally started to post it in 2013.. sometime.
I took a really long break from comics between finishing highschool and starting eggshells. I would try here and there, but not getting this baby comic out when i was still IN highschool somehow made me feel like a failure of an artist. I was very hard on myself. I didn’t really know if i was even capable of BEING a comic artist because my comics weren’t coming out how i wanted and I couldn’t finish anything. Besides that, I didn’t even know if I could even make them as a career. (I still don’t know if I can but I know I’m going to continue to try.)
When I decided to start Eggshells, i decided that it would be another attempt at my favorite baby comic because I knew that if any of my stories had the emotional legs to motivate me to get through to the final page-- it would be that one. That special baby comic. I poured so much work into planning and preparing everything in a very tradition sense. Scripts, thumbnails, drawing layouts and props and character turn arounds.. ect ect.
Then the fire happened and I lost my ‘comic bible’ of sorts. The rough draft sketches of the entire thing. It was very sad.
But even before then, actually inking pages was not very fun. Because the process i made for it was .. not very fun. I was running into the same walls that I always had when rendering comic panels. It just was too slow and I couldn’t get a consistent look that i wanted. I wasn’t sure where to put detail (or balance the detail) so I would over render constantly. I would zoom in too much. I didn’t know how much to shade and word bubbles annoyed me. I wasn’t very satisfied and I would spend way too much time on each page.
I felt pretty exhausted after trying to ink it for one year and not even getting through the first chapter. Doubt and old dread of not being capable of a comic artist weighed on my shoulders. Of course then, when the fire happened, i just decided to put all that aside again. My life kinda was.. thrown in a loop.
Similarly, my life has been thrown in another one of those loops. A different kind but still, the same sort of disoriented “where the fuck should i live” kind of things. Some of these feelings have come back, the anxieties and unsureness but.. mostly just remembering about them rather than feeling the SAME things. I have acquired a sense of accomplishment in my art .. just with a totally different comic that came out of no-where. (the worm one, you know.)
My relationship with my art has changed so much at this point and I’m so.. not.. what i had predicted for myself?? Not in a negative way. its just odd. FFAK is such a different comic than i thought I would make too. I would describe the experience of working on FFAK as like, im in a shitty junkyard car and ive decided to slam on the gas as hard as i can and see how far it’ll go. Then it just didn’t stop. It took me on a fucking journey but at 90 miles per hour. No careful consideration, so much explicit violence and sex, aggressive confrontations and social commentary. Sex hat jokes. I really got to see a side of myself that this story continues to bring out. And as I worked on ffak more and more, I would sometimes look over at the passenger seat at the Comic Baby. Crossing their arms judgmentally at me and giving me a look like “Having fun? What about ME? Wasn’t I the important one to you?? Am I not special anymore???”
So sometimes i’d feel bad. And try to work on that one again.. but it didn’t make me feel good. I felt like i had to ride the FFAK wave because that was what was happening in the present and I was discovering too much about myself to go back to this older thing that i had a frustrating history with. It wasn’t that I didn’t LOVE the other story, it just didn’t feel right to work on then. So i just let myself focus on where my energy was wanting to go: The Worm Fucks. And the worm fuck comic is the one people read first. Its the first comic of my own i really got to.. read and experience more than just the first chapter. Its been amazing but its so weird. I feel like its a different kind of artist that makes it sometimes.
I don’t regret the worm fuck comic being the one I’m known for but its still funny to me how easily it might have never happened. If the fire hadn’t taken away so much of my work, I probably would be still slowly pushing out pages for eggshells. Or maybe I would have given up and moved on to do something else with my art career? I don’t know. All i know is what I ended up doing was this weird worm comic that is still going on for .. thousands of pages! and has no end in sight! I didnt even expect eggshells to last 1,000 pages but now I can tell my page-pacing is different than how i expected. I still haven’t even finished a comic yet. Its weird? Am I able to finish comics? I guess I don’t know yet because I haven’t. i might “know” endings to my stories but its very different when actually getting it done. I understand that life is more complicated than that and things like fires can change the circumstances in 10 minutes.
So I’m feeling a fear about this uncertain future I’m facing, I’m seeing that I have to make a lot of huge life changes for where I am going to live and what I have to do to make money to support myself. I’m scared that my routine ive established with FFAK will have to change. I wonder if I’ll never be able to replicate the same exact “throw it all into the wind” energy of working like I was able to.. at least I know I can’t right now, because I need to be careful and calculated again. My surroundings arent stable enough for me to dive headfirst into my projects.
With that I’ve noticed I’m drawing eggshells a little bit and enjoying it like I haven’t before. Is it what I need right now? It feels weirdly comforting to know that, no matter what the history i have with this comic, I’ll come back to it and continue to pick at it a little. it makes me feel like, no matter where I’m going to be in this world physically-- my comics will come along with me and they dont have to leave. they arent a product of circumstance. I can get right back on the horse. Its just part of my life that doesn’t have to go away or be taken away from me. Its a nice secure feeling that there’s this art thing isnt something I have to start over. I’d rather build on what I’ve got and it might take me a long time but I enjoy the journey. That feels good to me.
Anyway, even if I’m scared about where i’ll go from here I know i’ll have my car of screaming comic babies at all different ages that are demanding my attention. and some are more patient than others, i’ve totally ditched some babies along the way that i might pick back up later or merge with other babies through some horrific experiment. I’ll even make some new ones because life inspires me constantly and I have so many problems to sort out and what better way than to project on some cool anime characters. but i love all my comic babies!!!!!! and they love me. i have unique and interesting histories with all of them.
comic baby is such a creepy word but it really feels like they are your strange brain children that are also you. i don’t ever want children of my own, but i can see that i pour.. small small aspects of that i think that energy might be into my comics. (im not pretending its actually the same thing to be perfectly clear.) They take up all your time + energy and make you constantly lose sleep..and they grow distinct personalities that you dont expect and have to deal with.. people will judge you for them and how you “raise” them (make them), you’re endlessly proud of these babies and protective and shed tears for them and want them to SUCCEED and live on forever. you want other people to love them TOO and see the best parts of them, for all their flaws. You want em all to grow up as you hoped or planned but they wont at all. They’ll be totally different but also better than you could have imagined.
Comics & Art are such a special thing to get to experience. While i hope that i can make my dreams a reality with my art, I know that they’ll always be an integral part of my life + how i experience and see life and i’m so thankful ive decided to really let room for it there. Its amazing to me that i almost thought it wouldn’t. and i wasnt going to be allowed to be happy with my art because it wasn’t good enough and i wasn’t enough. but i am. and it is good.
Thank you for reading. -Kosmic
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myrcenegirl · 3 years
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so today was weird kinda cute. so i wake up from my 16 hour sleep to a text from the raver lady asking if i want to go to lunch and thrifting. ive never hung out with her outside of a rave and i dont typically hang out with ravers outside of raves lol and this proved why kinda. but i was like why not shes nice i dont get bad vibes from her she did mention two other people coming and that did kinda of sketch me out and she told me to come to her place first so i was like.... but i went she lives nearby waited for the other two people to come and i ended up knowing one of the two just didnt realize at first so it was cool. we go to a mexican place its whatever meet up with another person have a nice lunch go thrifting to this big place ive never heard of and found four tops i liked actually so thats cool and was $18. went back to her place to hangout more and finally went home. now the thing is well the reason why i dont really hangout with ravers is cause they tend to be a little much for me in terms of their substance use and that proved to be right lol. like i dont judge ofc like its whatever if people are doing harder drugs but i dont necessarily want to be around those people even if theyre not doing it i just dont want to closely associate with that. so the guy we met at the restaurant i get told quietly that he has a bit of an opioid problem, okay sure whatever. the one guy i didnt know who met at the house his bag strap broke and the one guy i did know was like oh he just likes that bag so much because his heroin dealer gave it to him, okayyyyyyyyy sure whatever. then im pretty sure the two guys were smoking fentanyl which i didnt know you could do but yeah and im like okayyyy yeah this is why i dont hangout with ravers lol. like the lady shes just like a hippy and down for anything even though she herself doesnt do that shes just like whatever goes even though she only does as much as coke. so it was nice to ya know be around someone who was like on my level. and like also not to be rude but these are like desert ravers which are like a certain kind of person and typically its like a dirty hippy type..... emphasis on the dirty..... and thats how these two guys were. and i learned that the one guy i did know previously is 42 and he actually looks younger than that but omg he like was acting almost like a kid sometimes cause the most ive interacted with him is saying hi and like asking if he knows someone with k lol so like finally being around him for an extended period of time and seeing his behavior wasnt fun and then learning he was 42 was like okay what?!?!? other guy was really quiet like on his phone the whole time but nice said he would make me kandi lol. but yeah the only upside is that probably once i start working wont ever be able to hangout like that again cause this was the middle of the day so i can dodge the bullet but idk ill feel bad if they ask again before that because i do like the lady and all but omg i dont want to be around junkies :/
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