#e: added her reference sheet!

[basilone]

Things you said... 'when we woke' for Benny? Juno xx

Juno, Juno, Juno, you know there's only one way this is gonna go. And I know you won't mind that at all. 😏 Rating this E to be on the very safe side, though we're not going too deeply into the smut. Also adding a warning to people who are not here for references to a throuple situation or for references to an established f/f relationship. If you've been following me a long time, you'll recognize Darlene. I've had a bit of a thing on my hands lately as I came to realize that Benny would not only fit with her, but would likely be a much better match for her than her previous pairing. Consider this me taking that idea for a spin!

Things you said... when we woke

She is used to waking up alone. To stretching out amid pillows and rumpled sheets and finding the spot beside her already void of warmth. Lottie rarely lingers in the morning – rolls out of bed and gets ready faster than any girl – and leaves it up to her to start the day on her own.

Darlene knows something is different when she wakes to a hand in her hair. Wakes to the lingering scent of smoke and an exhale that is too deep-voiced to be Lottie’s. Wakes to warmth beside her, early morning sunlight coating bare skin in soft gold, and to someone who’s succeeding at detangling even her most stubborn curls.

“Hey there.”

“Hey yourself,” she grins, stretching out beside Benny DeMarco and kicking the last of the sheets down to her feet. “Mornin’ smoke?”

He exhales. “Passes the time.” His smile comes easy. Soft. “Can’t complain about the view, either.”

Darlene shakes her head as heat slowly suffuses her body. “Stop sayin’ things like that, Ben,” she complains, wrinkling her nose and pushing herself upright. “You’re gonna make me blush again.” She’d blushed something fierce last night, especially when Lottie had added her own praise to his words. “But”– she says now, drinking the sight of him in fully –“you’re damn right about the view being nothin’ to sneeze at.”

That, at least, earns her a laugh and a shake of his head as well. He doesn’t blush – not even after Lottie had tried her best to make him – but does avert his gaze as he moves to put his cigarette out. Darlene rakes a hand through her hair as she watches him, all broad shoulders and thighs that should simply…

“Hey now,” he chuckles as she moves to straddle him, “good morning to you too.”

“Do ya mind?”

He grins up at her. “Do I look like I do?”

“I dunno,” she shrugs, biting her lip a little at the heat that flares to life in his gaze. “Don’t wanna assume… I mean,” she says, gesturing at the rest of the room, “with Lot already out the door an’ all…”

“Surprised me with that,” he grunts, squeezing her thigh. “Ace rushed off like all the devils from hell were chasing her this morning. Tiptoed a little not to wake you, but…”

She tries not to let it sting. “She does that.” Usually not when there’s a fella in our bed, though. “I’m a lil slower in the mornin’. Lot’s always first to leave. Ya get used to it.” She half-shrugs at that. “If you… If you wanna leave, too, that’s all right?”

“You’re gonna have to kick me out of this bed if you want me to go.”

“Oh do I?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he laughs, “I’m not even sure I can walk in a straight line right now.” His eyes are bright with mirth as his hand comes to rest on her lower back. “Not sure I want to, either. Goddamn, you two damn near killed me.”

“Ya kept pace with us,” she retorts archly, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Ain’t another fella out there who can say that. You’re good people, Benny DeMarco. Even if ya got that mouth on ya”– she grins before kissing him on it, all closed lip and heat –“and absolutely no shame at all, sittin’ up in a bed that ain’t yours like this,” she teases, letting her fingertips skim across his belly, “naked as anythin’, all fucked out”– except he’s not, if his sharp intake of breath is anything to go by, and that just makes her smile –“or… wantin’ more?”

“You’re one to talk,” he says, shamelessly eyeing her, “climbing on top of me like that”– and his hands are roaming, wandering, pulling her closer –“Jesus, look at you,” he sighs, voice going softer than she good and well thinks she deserves to hear, “I’m never gonna want to resist this.”

“Ben–”

His kiss is languid. Gentle, even, with him brushing stray curls out of her face before his hand comes to skim the underside of her breast. “More of this,” he affirms, “if you want…”

She nods, wordless, as he kisses her again. Wraps her arms around his neck, just like she’d dared last night when they’d been out for drinks and he’d been flirting back a little too pointedly to ignore. And it’d been a little hassle then, getting him to realize that Lottie was in on this – had been smirking at them half the evening, knowing how the night gonna go – but he’d not missed a single beat since. She smiles at the memory. Presses closer to him still, kissing his cheek and jaw and neck and–

“Darlene,” he murmurs, voice almost cracking, “stay fucking still, you’re…”

“Feeling very wanted right now,” she grins, feeling his full-body response to her pressing against him like that. Heat pools between her own legs at the realization, answered by a sudden flash of warmth in her lower belly. “God, Ben, just one more time, you an’ me, all right?”

He smiles up at her. “Like I’d say no?”

“I dunno…”

“Never. Never ever gonna say no to you.”

He makes it sound like prayer. Like some sort of talisman he keeps, with her arms around his neck acting like its chain. Her belly swoops as though she’s airborne – and maybe that’s how he feels, flying that bomber, like that giddy feeling that’s taking root inside of her now. There’s a vow in it she doesn’t want to listen to for too long. If heard like that, she might believe more than she should.

She nuzzles his cheek. Kisses him again, long and slow and wanting. “Want me to stay like this?” she checks, to his insistent nods that make her laugh out loud. “Can ya reach the draw–”

“I’m just here to grab my”– interrupts another voice to her right, so suddenly that Darlene almost squeaks out offense –“well, fuck me.”

Benny is the first to recover, and does so rather admirably. “Grab what?” he asks, peering at the doorway. “Didn’t think you were coming back this morning.”

“Yeah,” says Lottie, judgment coloring every inch of her now that Darlene looks at her, “that much is clear.” Her girlfriend, blonde hair raked back into a haphazard ponytail, leans against the doorframe. Eyes them almost the same way she did last night, though right now her face is marred by a slight frown that deepens the longer she stands there. “Jesus,” she whistles sharply, in a way that makes Benny lean against the headboard and close his eyes a moment, “you’re still going at it?”

Darlene frowns back. “Just enjoying my mornin’,” she retorts archly, making sure her tone stings. You could’ve enjoyed the same if you really wanted to. God knows you do it all the time when I’m gone. “Did ya leave somethin’ here?”

“Yeah.” Lottie’s voice is sharp in turn. Her words almost a snap as she reaches out to grab her flight jacket off the chair by the door. She doesn’t linger. “Looks like I left my senses.”

The door slams shut behind her. Too loud. Too quick.

“Hey,” murmurs Benny, fingers brushing her cheek now that Darlene’s gone and flinched at the sound, “everything all right?”

It’s hard to look at him. Hard to see the concern in his eyes – really, are you okay? – that now translates into how gentle he makes his touch. Darlene bites her lip. Takes a breath that’s a little too noisy as she feels her eyes begin to sting. Good going, Lot, you’re fucking me up here.

“She’s just spittin’ mad,” she breathes as she wraps her own fingers around that stubborn curly strand of hair on his forehead, “that I didn’t kick ya out yet.” She braves a smile. Meets his eyes. “Ain’t your problem, all right? Between me and her.”

It’s hard not to like him even better than she already does when he gives her a tiny nod. “All right.” Just like that. No pushing. No getting involved. Just his acceptance, and the only question she’d expect him to ask. “Do you want me to go, now?”

Darlene raises an eyebrow. “Do ya think you’re in a position to leave, Ben?” She laughs as he actually glances down at his lap, then back up at her. Catches how his eyes darken with the motion. How his arm tightens around her waist. “That’s what I thought.” She can’t help but sound a little bit smug at that. “Weren’t we in the middle of somethin’ here?”

“You were starting something,” he corrects idly, pulling her even closer. His own laugh is almost breathless. “Again.”

“Oh was I? What was I star– ohhhh.” She sighs as his free hand moves down between her legs and his fingers find that sweet, sweet spot that almost makes her eyes roll back in pleasure. “I remember now,” she breathes, shifting in his lap a moment until he’s hard and wanting beneath her in a way that’s got him muffling a curse against her skin, “I was starting somethin’ that ends with you inside of me, wasn’t I?”

“Oh were you,” he smiles back, eyes warm and bright as his fingers already slip inside her and leave her gasping. “Like this? Or…”

“Goddamnit, Benny,” she admonishes, to his answering chuckles, “you know I want your cock.” She’s brazen about that the way she’s been with him since last night – he ain’t a shy fella, after all – and he’s smiling up at her about it all the same. Smiling up at her with an almost impish delight as his fingers curve up inside her like they did when his mouth was on her. “Come on,” she almost wheedles, unable to keep a slight whine out of her voice, “lemme take it nice and slow, Ben…”

“Nice and slow for the morning, huh?”

Darlene nods, smiling, as his next exhale ghosts over her lips before he kisses her. Nice and slow, so I can remember being with someone who wanted me first.

She doesn’t say that part out loud.

#masters of the air #bernard demarco #oc: darlene #oc: lottie #benny x darlene #lottie x darlene x benny #mota oc #basilonefic

[writerblue275]

The One That Could Break My Heart (Chapter 2)

Inspiration: "Houdini" and “Break My Heart” - Dua Lipa, “Got Me Started” - Troye Sivan, “Tattoo” - Loreen (that’s right we’re adding another one lmao).

Champion: Ezreal (Like Pilty!Ez.)

Summary: You once again fill the role as Ezreal’s plus-one, but things don’t always go according to plan and you have a startling realization.

Genre: Song-inspired fic

Type: Fluff, Angst (but happy ending to chapter), Smut-ish (18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Gender: Reader who is comfortable with she/her pronouns and with being referred to as a daughter. There are also typically fem presenting clothes and stuff mentioned (but obviously clothes and stuff are not limited to the gender binary).

TW: Swearing, suggestive content (NSFW). Some emotional distress/angst. Mention of torture/violence/death (Jesus that makes it sound so bad) mainly in a nightmare-ish setting. Mention of alcohol (drink responsibly).

Important context: I’m involving Jayce/early HexTech as an example because it’s my story lmao. This is like over double the length of Chapter 1, but you know what, a lot happens plot-wise, so 🤷‍♀️.

Also: Please take this as my humble holiday gift. Happy Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t, Happy Holidays! I hope your winter season is filled with love and joy.

Key:

“Break My Heart” lyrics in orange

“Houdini” lyrics in blue

“Got Me Started” lyrics in purple

“Tattoo” lyrics in green

“Everything you say is soundin’ so sweet.”

As you slowly drift back to consciousness, your first thought is how lovely and warm you are. My bedroom isn’t normally this warm! Not without a pile of blankets on top of me. But now all you feel is a sheet and one blanket covering you and it’s perfect.

The next couple things your mind registers are arms around you and a pair of soft lips slowly and gently kissing up and down your neck. The feeling is heavenly and you can’t help but let out a soft unintelligible moan as your brain finally manages to register where you are and who the lips belong to. You’re at Ezreal’s house, in his bed, and those are his lips currently nibbling the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“E-Ez,” you murmur sleepily. You try to tilt your head a little to give him more space, try being the operative word. Your brain isn’t exactly connected to your muscles in its current sleepy state. You let out a happy whine as he chuckles and nips your jaw.

“Good morning, princess. Does that feel good?” he murmurs softly into your ear, his voice husky and a bit deeper from sleep.

You softly moan and lace your fingers with the hand he’s anchored on your stomach. “Ez, please…I’m not…dreaming…right?” Your question is just a little more coherent as you start to actually wake, though your words are definitely still sleep-slurred.

You can feel him chuckle against your neck. “Not a dream, baby. I’ve missed waking you up like this…” He punctuates his point by gently nipping your ear.

You can’t help but let out a soft whimper. As you try to shift in his embrace, you squeeze his hand, trying to use any leverage you can to face him, even with your eyes still closed. “Kiss me…please,” you sleepily beg as you’re unsuccessful in your mission of turning yourself in his arms.

“Easy….I’ve got you…easy, princess…let me take care of you,” Ezreal coos softly, gently adjusting you so you’re laying on your back before one of his hands returns to lace with yours. His other hand gently strokes along your side for a moment. “Can you open your eyes for me?" His lips gently kiss and nibble along your jawline.

You finally manage to flutter your eyes open, turning your head to the side his voice is coming from. There you’re greeted with a delightfully heart-stopping sight. Ez is smirking gently down at you as he rests on his side, head propped up on his palm, with the blanket slid down to his waist, showing off his bare chest and abs. You stretch your arms a little before reaching over and resting your hand on his chest, gently trailing your fingertips down, and giving him a sleepy little smile. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice still a little husky as well, though he’s the main cause of that, not sleep.

All of his features light up as he smiles. “That’s it, princess,” he says quietly. He moves his head down towards yours. “Very good,” his voice ends in a whisper as he takes your lips in a kiss that can only be described as…drugging. It’s deep, slow, addictive, heart-racing, and breathtaking. It’s everything you wanted.

A happy noise slips from your throat and you tangle your hands in his hair as you kiss him back. After a few long moments, you pull away, a content smile on your lips. “You certainly know my favorite way to wake up” you sigh out, biting your bottom lip as you look up at him.

He gently uses his thumb to tug your bottom lip free of your teeth. The unexpected gesture causes your cheeks to heat and your heart to skip a few more beats. He leans down and kisses you deeply again, making you sigh again in even more delight as your hands move to rest against his chest.

“Sleep well?” He inquires in a murmur against your lips.

You slowly nod and stretch some more with a little smirk once he pulls back. “You made sure I would.”

After you and Ezreal cuddled for a while after finishing dinner last night, the two of you ended up going another round before you both fell asleep, him spooning you. It was truly exquisite, how easily you fell asleep. You never fall asleep as quickly as when you’re with him.

You gently flop back on the mattress, looking up at the ceiling as you’re transported into your mind. You can’t help but focus on the past. You think about how young you never would have imagined this situation being in the future of your friendship with the troublemaker son/nephew of your father’s colleagues. Her jaw would be on the floor.

“Princess, you just woke up! What’s got you thinking so much already?” Ez asks on a chuckle, poking your stomach gently.

You turn your head and shoot him a sleepy grin. “Just how shocked younger me would be that this is where our friendship has gone. She wouldn’t believe it at all. Remember? The first time we met I was so shy, I barely said a few sentences to you. Now look at us,” you remark. “Did you ever think things would be like this? With the history professor’s daughter?”

Ez looks down at you. He responds thoughtfully, “Honestly, no. Younger me didn’t see this being part of our future friendship/relationship to each other. But, I’ve never been so glad to be wrong in my life. I feel very lucky to have been wrong.” He leans down and kisses your forehead softly, his hand once again lacing with one of yours. The actions make your heart flutter and your eyes widen slightly.

You reach up with your free hand and gently cup his cheek, making him look at you. “Who are you and what have you done with Ezreal? You’ve been exceptionally affectionate and sweet since you’ve been home, Ez. Though I’m not complaining. I really like this sweet side of you, but it is different from how things have been in the past,” you observe softly. You let your curiosity linger for a moment before finally asking the questions that are stuck on your mind. “Ezreal, is…is everything alright? Is there anything you want to talk about? Did something happen on your expedition?”

You instantly notice how he stiffens as you mention his expedition and also how he hesitates as if thinking what to say.

You gently trace his bottom lip. “It’s alright, Ez. I won’t push you to tell me anything. I know I can’t comprehend everything you’ve seen in the field, especially when it comes to dangers you’ve faced,” you comment, moving to gently trace his jaw with your thumb.

He stiffens again slightly when you mention dangers. You know his body language well enough at this point to understand that he faced something that he’s hesitant to tell you about.

“As long as you know you can tell me anything without judgement, that’s all I care about,” you soothe, giving him a soft smile.

He leans down and kisses you softly, murmuring, “I do know that, and I’m very grateful. I will tell you. I’m just not ready to relive it quite yet.”

You nod and brush his hair out of his eyes. “Understood. I’m very sorry you went through that, then. When you are ready to talk about it it, I’m here to listen,” you promise him softly. “Always.”

“We’ve got that hot chemistry, you and me won’t make it out this house.”

It was a very slow and easy day for the two of you. Once both of you initially left bed, you shared a lovely and long shower, followed by a delicious, but simple, breakfast back in bed. Then the two of you just cuddled and chatted the afternoon away, mainly talking about your life updates since he was gone for two months with very little contact to home.

You also took a small little nap curled up against Ezreal’s chest. You fell asleep to his hands playing with your hair and rubbing your back, a perfect combination to knock you out.

A couple hours later, and now you’re getting ready for the dinner party with him.

Ez walks out of his closet and into his bathroom wearing a well-tailored black suit set and holding a garment bag, walking over to you as you finish putting on your makeup. He smiles as he meets your eyes in the bathroom vanity mirror. “Ready to see your dress? I think you’ll like it.

You smile back at him. “I’m sure I will. You know my fashion tastes very well by this point, Indiana Jones,” you observe. “Ok show me!” You turn towards him, closing your eyes, and patiently waiting as he unzips the cover.

Ezreal removes the dress from the garment bag and holds it up by the hanger. “Alright princess,” he says. “Open your eyes now.”

You do and you can’t help but let out a little gasp of delight at the clothing in front of you. It’s an off the shoulder purple cocktail-length dress with a fitted purple bodice at the top, covered in subtle 3d floral details, and a flowy tulle skirt that is ever-so-slightly high-low.

You murmur a little breathlessly, “Oh my goodness Ez, that’s so pretty! Is this what you bought the purple set to wear with?”

He nods and says, “As smart as ever. Yes, that’s why I got the purple set. It’s strapless at the top so you should be fine to wear it with this neckline.”

You immediately walk closer to him and kiss his cheek, murmuring happily, “Thank you, Ez. It’s truly beautiful. I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve such special gifts, but thank you for giving them to me.” You pull back and immediately walk over to your bag, getting out the purple set, with its matching top, bottoms, and garter belt.

As you gently herd him out of the bathroom and close the door you call out, “After I change into these, will you help me into the dress? I’ll need assistance with that zipper.”

“Of course. Happy to help, princess,” he calls back.

You quickly change into the lacy purple set, also pulling on some hose and connecting them to your garters. As you check yourself out in the bathroom mirror, you can’t help but say, “Well fuck! I look sexy...”

Ez’s voice sounds through the closed bathroom door, tinged with amusement, “You always do, princess. Why do you sound so surprised?”

You can’t help but smirk and giggle, “Such a charmer, Ez! Alright come in, I’m ready for your help.”

You just giggle even more as he opens the door and freezes after taking only a couple steps with his eyes glued on you.

“Fucking hell, (Y/N), you look stunning,” he breathes. He hangs up the dress on a clothes peg behind him before quickly coming over to you. The second he reaches you, one of his hands is in your hair and the other is pulling you to him, holding your waist. His lips are on yours with a passion that has you gasping and even has your knees going a little weak, making you wrap your arms around his neck just to make sure you don’t fall. He chuckles, sliding the hand on your waist around your back so his arm helps better support you as his lips move to your jaw and throat.

You’re practically panting as you try to recatch your breath. “Careful Indiana Jones,” you gasp and whimper as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Keep this up and we won’t even make it out of this house to get to dinner. Hell, we won’t even make it out of this bedroom.”

His very amused murmur sounds in your ear, “Don’t threaten me with a good time. I see no problem with that particular outcome, baby. That sounds like a far more enjoyable evening to me.” His lips reattach themselves to your neck, causing you to gasp again as your hands tangle in his hair.

“Ezreal, do not leave a hickey when we’re about to go in public. I was barely able to throw my brother and parents off their suspicions of you the last time you left a visible mark. I’m still not completely sure they believe me. Do you know how it would look if we show up together and I have hickeys on me? I’m fairly certain my parents and your uncle would murder both of us once they heard about it!” You scold him breathlessly as you tug on his hair to get him to remove his lips from your neck.

He just smirks wickedly and instead of pulling away completely, he moves his lips to the soft skin of your upper arm. “Fine. Then I won’t make it obvious. I’m still going to mark you, though. Just in a place your dress covers. I know how much you love it when I mark you, (Y/N), don’t even try to say you don’t.”

You close your eyes and let out a soft noise of pleasure as your head goes back. “Fuck…I do,” you let out on a sigh as he does just what he said he would. He leaves a cluster of small marks on soft skin that will soon be covered by the off-the-shoulder sleeves of your dress.

He pulls back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect,” he observes on a smirk. “Now let’s get you into your dress so you can fix your hair. Apologies for messing it up,” he says, not sounding apologetic in the very slightest as he checks himself over in the mirror. “Whatever makeup you used though, good choice. Your lipstick didn’t smudge or get on me at all.”

You laugh as you wait for him to unzip the dress from the hanger and bring it over to you. “I should be upset with you about messing up my hair, but I can’t really be mad when you kiss me like that. Damn, Ezreal!” Your voice is still a little breathless. “That was…..woah…”

He laughs as he stands behind you and helps you step into the dress. He holds it up as you put your arms through the unconventional sleeves. He also helps zip you up, wrapping his arms around you, leaning forward, and kissing a bare shoulder once he’s done. “There,” he murmurs. “Just as incredible as I thought you would look.”

You smile and turn, kissing his cheek softly and uttering a gentle, “thank you.” You reluctantly step out of the warmth of his arms, going to the mirror to quickly fix your mussed hair. When you turn around again, he’s holding a pair of purple heels that match your dress. Once you walk over to him, he offers his arm and lets you use him to stabilize yourself as you step into the heels. They’re not ungodly tall, but heels have never been your forte.

You look at him with a raised brow. “Making sure I hang onto you all night, are you, Indiana Jones? You know me and heels aren’t besties. Promise to keep me upright?” you tease.

He sends you a wink. “Always, princess."

He leads you downstairs once you grab your small clutch with your essentials in it. As he opens the front door, you see a pretty carriage with horses and a driver.

You pause, your mouth opening in a surprised oval as you let out a small little gasp of, “Oh!”

You hear Ez chuckle next to you. “I thought we’d arrive in classic style tonight. And besides, I didn’t want to make you walk in those heels,” he murmurs as he offers you his arm to hold. Once you’re securely holding onto him, he leads you to the carriage steps, making sure you’re able to easily get in before pulling himself up and into the plush interior to the bench next to you. He laces his fingers with yours as he calls out to the driver to go.

After about a 10-minute ride, you see the line of carriages lined up to drop off occupants at the mansion of the council member who was hosting tonight’s dinner. You couldn’t even remember who was hosting. You only knew a couple of the councilors and it wasn’t any of them. As your carriage approaches the drop off point, you start to get nervous as you see flashes of exposed camera bulbs going off.

“You think by now I’d be used to the cameras and reporters,” you utter, “but god they still freak me out. I’m not photogenic, Ez. I still don’t get why you don’t have some model come with you. They’d do so much better in front of the cameras and in polite conversations. You could get whoever you wanted.” Your hands are starting to shake as your anxiety starts to really kick in.

Ezreal uses a finger to gently turn your head towards him. “(Y/N)…hey, don’t say stuff like that. You look incredible. Also, a random model isn’t my best friend of almost two decades who knows me better than I know myself a lot of times. And they certainly wouldn’t be as fascinating as I find you to be,” he voices reassuringly. He ends his affirmations with a quick peck to your lips. “I’ll do most of the talking if that makes you feel better. Just hold onto me. I’ll never let you fall or look stupid. Do you trust me on that?” Ez’s gentle question helps break through your nerves.

“Of course. I trust you completely, Ezreal. Always,” you answer honestly, giving him a small smile before taking a deep breath and rolling your shoulders back.

He smiles at you. “That’s more like it. Ready, princess? Your adoring public awaits,” he jokes.

You can’t help but grin. “But of course! As per usual, I’m ready to be your arm candy, Indiana Jones. Lead the way!”

“It’s your moment baby don’t let it slip.”

He laughs as the driver finally opens the carriage doors at the drop off point. Ez easily slides out of the carriage before turning back to you and helping you down the gap between the carriage steps and the ground. He makes sure you’re stable and offers you his arm to hold.

You smile brightly at Ez as you take his arm. “Thank you!” you whisper. You allow him to lead you along the walkway lined with reporters and photographers. You keep your attention primarily focused on him, and honestly it does wonders for tuning everything else out. He primarily keeps his attention on you as well, chatting casually with you instead of talking to the reporters or photographers clambering for his attention. Before you even know it, both of you are being welcomed into the spacious home of the councilman hosting. “Hoskel,” You hear his name murmured by some passing staff.

The two of you are led to a drawing room where everyone is gathering before moving to the dining room for the formal dinner. Your names are both announced by a very distinguished looking butler. As soon as Ez’s name is announced, there’s a moment of stunned silence as people stare at him before the chattering gets even louder, everyone clearly discussing the return of Piltover’s “prodigal explorer.”

You lean close to his ear. “Looks like you’ll be the hot topic as per usual. Granted, I already knew about the “hot” part,” you playfully tease.

He smirks at you. “Ready for the introductions, princess?” He murmurs. “The only important people I don’t see in here are councilor Hoskel and his wife, but I’m sure they’re just playing host.” He squeezes your hand as the first curious guests approach for an introduction. It didn’t take long, but you’re not shocked. Everyone wants to meet and talk to Ezreal.

You’re touched how Ez always makes sure to introduce you when he’s meeting someone. Out of the two of you, he’s always been far more of a social butterfly. Having him do most of the talking works really well for your dynamic. As he introduces you, as always, you are surprised at the number of people who recognize your last name. You’ve always been proud of your father, your mother who is an attorney, and your brother, who is involved in Piltover politics, but now you realize their accomplishments are farther reaching than you even realized. They’re very well respected, even among Piltover’s elite. Knowing how humble you are, Ez also makes sure to brag about your many accomplishments, making you blush and smile shyly before you talk about yourself.

Once there’s a lull in the introductions, you lean over to him again. “It’s kind of you to brag about my accomplishments, Ez, but they really don’t compare to yours. You’re doing the impossible,” you murmur.

He frowns a little bit. “(Y/N) your accomplishments are just as important. Your past successes when you were in music. Your multiple degrees in public health. Your non-profit work in cancer treatment research. Your job literally helps find cures for cancer. Don’t you realize how incredible that is? You’re very easy to brag about, princess. You’ve done incredible things and I’ve always been really proud of you,” he murmurs back passionately.

“Ez….that’s,” you battle speechlessness. After a moment you squeeze the arm you’re holding onto. “You keep saying the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me,” you manage softly, almost fighting back tears. “T-thank you…truly..”

“And I mean all of it, (Y/N). I’m proud to have you in my life, just as I’ve heard you say you’re proud to have me in yours,” he says.

You slide your hand down his arm and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze. “I believe you, Ez. And it means so much to me, I can’t even say the proper words. But thank you.” You pause for a moment before leaning over and quickly pecking his cheek.

Such displays of affection in public are rare between the two of you. Neither of you want anyone to get the wrong idea. But he doesn’t look upset. In fact, there’s a very slight twinge of pink on his cheeks along with a shy smile.

Just then, the host and his wife walk in and announce dinner. Everyone is led to the main dining room which is elegantly decorated with a massive table in the middle. Ez leads you to the two chairs with your names in front of them. He’s sitting to your right and the two of you are only a couple seats down from the head of the table. No doubt so Hoskel can ask Ez his own questions about his expedition. Ez pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before pushing your seat closer to the table for you.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Ez. Always a gentleman,” you observe happily before lowering your voice and leaning closer to his ear. “Well at least you are in public.” You smirk so only he can see. “In private with me, you’re certainly no gentleman…”

He gets a wicked grin on his face and winks at you as he leans down, his voice practically a low purr against your ear, “I take offense to that, princess. I believe you thought me quite a gentleman this morning.”

“Only after our shower. Before that, you were only a semi-gentleman, Ezreal.” You grin at him as he sits down next to you. Both of you put your napkins on your laps and look around as everyone else settles in. Tonight you’re dining with quite a few members of Piltover’s elite and regardless if you’re very chatty or not, it’s an interesting people-watching opportunity.

Dinner soon starts with an appetizer of a delicious and light soup that reminds you of gazpacho. Once people settle into the course, conversation continues easily again, and sure enough, one of the guests on your end of the table soon asks Ezreal if it’s true he just returned from an excursion.

Ez nods. “I did. I was in the southwest area of Shurima for two months, looking for a legendary tomb only talked about in ancient manuscripts. The tomb is called the Tomb of the Fallen Lovers. Supposedly it’s where an old king went mad and buried himself alive after witnessing the death of his beloved queen via torture when their kingdom was invaded.”

A hush falls over the table as he speaks, everyone eager to hear his story. “How tragic!” You hear someone murmur to their table mate.

Ez turned his head toward the commenter. “Yes it was tragic. What made it even more tragic was she hadn’t been tortured at all. It was all the cruel illusion of an enemy mage. So his queen was unharmed all this time. Then she went mad with grief when she learned what happened to her husband, sealing herself in with him. The tomb is believed to be cursed and anyone who enters will see one of their loved ones being tortured in order for them to lose their will to live, just as the king did. And that’s just one trap protecting the tomb. There are many others as well,” he explained.

He pauses a moment to build up anticipation. Once he looks around, he continues, “The traps were both physical traps, and mental traps caused by magic. And they were hiding things. Elixirs, amulets, and other treasures. Which I was able to retrieve.”

Ez then goes into a longer explanation of a lot of the physical traps he faced. You find yourself getting more and more tense as he explains all the dangers he experienced. He’d really been in quite a bit of peril, and that was upsetting for you to think about. Though you know he is extremely capable, you don't enjoy thinking about your best friend being in danger. As he continues, you’re really hoping Ez can’t see the slight tremor of your soup spoon.

It seems you aren’t so lucky at avoiding Ez’s keen sense of observation. After a couple more moments of him talking, you feel a warm hand gently slide onto your right knee under the table. His hand is over the fabric of your dress, but the thin tulle isn’t much of an insulator from his body heat.

You subtly switch your soup spoon to your left hand so you can covertly slide your right hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze to give your permission to his touch. You then remove your hand from his so you can continue to act as if you’re just listening to his story casually, like everyone else. Internally though, your brain is practically short circuiting as his hand very slowly makes its way up your thigh, above your dress. It takes every ounce of your control to keep from blushing wildly as his thumb gently traced the letters of his name, your name, and then other words you can’t make out against your skirt.

This smart smart man. He knows what he’s doing. You think you’d be used to it by now, with the number of times he’s done it, but every time, his gentle touch manages to completely snare your attention. Soon enough you’re not listening at all to the words of his story, distracted to the point of only focusing on keeping your face pleasantly impassive.

Eventually he gives your thigh one last squeeze before moving his hand back down to your knee. It’s his own way of warning you he’s winding down his story, allowing you time to gradually tune back into his words.

The next person to speak is councilor Hoskel. “Ezreal, you’ve been to many places very few of us could comprehend. Places filled with all sorts of traps, both physical and magical, as you say. What has been the worst or scariest trap you’ve ever faced to get an artifact?”

The unexpected happens. You feel Ezreal, nearly unshakable in all things, freeze and stiffen. His hand on your knee grips a little tighter, as if he’s trying to keep himself anchored to you and to reality. You glance at him, keeping a straight face even as you’re increasingly alarmed to notice he’s gone pale. He’s hesitating, and you can tell by how tense he is this question makes Ezreal think of something that truly rattled him. You hate seeing your usually unflappable partner-in-crime so tense.

As you lace your fingers with his hand on your knee, squeezing his hand reassuringly, you do something you tend to avoid doing at these events. You draw attention to yourself.

Your words to the councilman are coated in a deceptively polite coolness. “Councilor Hoskel, are you aware how insensitive your question is?” It’s a blatantly bold statement, especially to a member of Piltover’s ruling council, but your loyalty to Ez has you speaking without a filter, and well, it’s too late to take it back now.

The rest of the diners sitting around you let out a soft gasp. Hoskel himself looks stunned at your audacity. “Insensitive? Please elaborate,” he demands.

You stare him down as you gently squeeze Ezreal’s hand again, a silent indicator that you’re gladly taking this man on. “I’m sure Ezreal would rather not relive something he classifies as “the worst trap he’s ever faced.” We heard at the beginning of his story the tale of the fallen lovers and how the tomb came to have its name. That entire series of events was caused by an extremely cruel moment of magic. As Ezreal told us, that curse still exists meaning anyone who enters they tomb will see a realistic illusion of someone they love dearly being violently tortured and killed. For the sake of my argument, I’ll use that trap as my example. This is a rhetorical question, but if it were you, would you want to remind yourself of the time you saw an illusion of your lovely wife in that situation?” You say, pausing a moment to let what you just said sink in with everyone before continuing.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to relive that moment, especially not if I only recently experienced it for the first time anyway. That is just one of many psychological, mystical, and physical traps Ezreal has faced across the continent, and not even just the continent, but in that tomb alone, as he just told us. If it were me, the last thing I’d like to do is think about all the moments I faced intense magic or weapons that were set with the sole purpose of killing me. Especially when I must think about said moments because someone wants to be entertained by my answer. That seems like it’s own unique form of psychological torture,” you observe quietly but firmly. “In Piltover, we’ve seen the beauty of magic and human ingenuity, using Mr. Talis’ burgeoning HexTech as an example. What Ezreal does on his expeditions repeatedly brings him face-to-face with magic’s cruelty, as well as the dangerous cunning of humanity. Horrific things you and I could never dare to imagine.” You never once take your eyes off of Hoskel’s face, and you take great pride in the fact that he’s the one to first look away.

Hoskel finally meets your eyes again and nods. His acknowledgment is begrudging as he says, “I see your reasoning. You have an excellent point, Miss…”

“(Y/L/N),” you quickly finish his sentence for him.

Hoskel studies you closely. “Like the history professor at the academy?”

You nod. “Yes sir, he’s my father,” you explain. “My mother is one of the personal attorneys for councilor Kiramman and her family. You also work with my twin brother. He’s a member of the sub council that oversees daily academy affairs.” You explain proudly. You then do another thing you try to avoid at all costs. You brag about yourself, “I myself work in the non-profit sector helping run clinical trials for cancer drugs. It might not be the most “glamorous” work, but I’m proud to do it and try to make a difference in the lives of Piltovans.” Bragging about yourself isn’t something you like to do at all, but you know how elite society craves social connections, and you fear it’s needed in order to make your point to the arrogant man. At least you can brag about the rest of your family, who you are extremely proud of.

Hoskel looks at you with newfound respect. “House (Y/L/N) has done quite well for itself. I should have known who you were. I’d heard you were the one usually found on Ezreal’s arm when he’s at an event such as this, and now I understand why. You and your family are quite impressive.

You smile at Ez, who is looking far more normal-colored at this point, and run your thumb over his knuckles under the table before speaking. “Ezreal and I have been very close friends for almost two decades. We’ve known each other since early childhood. While he brags about my accomplishments, as well as the accomplishments of my family, I certainly don’t think my family’s social connections or achievements are why he invites me.”

It’s at this point you feel Ez squeeze your hand, silently signaling to you he’s jumping back into the conversation. “(Y/N) is right. I bring her because there is no one who understands me better nor is there anyone I trust more. Though I am more than happy to brag about (Y/N) at any time to those who will listen. She’s extremely impressive as we’ve all heard.”

Hoskel nods. “So she is,” he agrees. “And wise. She’s correct. My question to you was insensitive. I apologize, Ezreal. I spoke without thinking.”

Ezreal nods once to the councilor, acknowledging and accepting his apology through the simple gesture.

As the appetizer course is cleared and fragrant roast is set in front of you, you lean over to Ezreal and whisper, “Are you alright, Ez? Based on your reaction I figured that question brought back things you’d rather forget. I didn’t mean to step in as I know you can handle yourself, but…I…”your voice trails off as you hope you didn’t overstep.

Ez looks over at you and squeezes the hand he’s still holding. “Thank you for stepping in. I mean it. You’re exactly right. It brings things to mind I never want to think about again,” he whispers back. “But on a lighter note, how many people can say they have someone in their corner ready to take on a damn council member for them? You hid it very well, but I know you. You were absolutely furious with him.

You nod. “I was livid with him, yes,” you admit. “And I think my mother would be quite proud of how I respectfully tore him down a couple pegs. The question just made me so angry. Hadn’t he been paying attention? Magic and humanity can be cruel.”

“They certainly can be. But anyway, maybe I should start calling you “Angel,” since you were my avenging angel just now,” his voice takes on a playful tone as he responds.

You feel your cheeks get a little warm. “I don’t hate it. Test it out on me once the dancing starts, yeah?” You murmur with a wink.

He squeezes your hand one last time before letting go of it so he can eat the main course, nodding at you. “Good plan, princess."

“Am I falling in love with the one that could break my heart?”

The rest of dinner goes by without any fuss, and soon everyone is excused to gather in the ballroom for dancing. Ez stands and helps you up, again offering a stable arm for you to hold. He murmurs close to your ear, “Ready, Angel?”

You smile and murmur back low against his ear, “A. Yes I am ready. B. Oh I like the new nickname….it gets my stamp of approval.”

He chuckles, “Good because I like it too.”

“Now since it’s been two months, how worried should I be about my feet this evening, hrm?” You tease. You don’t really mean it. Ezreal is a surprisingly divine dancer. He always says that his dancing classes as a kid made his footwork much more agile for his expeditions, and you believe the agility he needs on his expeditions has turned him into an even better dancer.

You glance over to see Ezreal smiling widely at you. He gently squeezes your arm holding onto him. “I feel like I should be asking you that, Angel. You’re in heels this evening,” he murmurs.

You give him a playful pout. “Because of you, Ezreal! You picked out my footwear for tonight.”

He laughs. “So I did. I suppose any damage I take is my own doing.”

“Oh shush,” you giggle as you playfully swat his arm. “You’re skilled enough to deal with my two left feet.”

He smirks widely at you as the two of you find yourself in a beautiful ballroom. There are multiple doors opening to more private balconies, as well as to let air in. There’s also a bar where flutes of champagne and sparkling rosé are being poured. It’s a luxurious space, perfect for someone trying to show off his wealth and power.

You tilt your head towards the bar. “I didn’t have any of the wine with dinner, so I think I’d like some sparkling wine now. Care to join me?”

He instantly starts leading you that direction. “Of course, princess. That sounds like a great idea,” he easily agrees.

Once the two of you have your sparkling wines, him champagne, you the dry sparkling rosé, he leads you by the hand to one of the smaller more private balconies. On the side of the room he picks, there’s only the one, so it really is more like a completely private balcony just for the two of you. He draws the set of curtains in front of the door to show it's occupied. There’s a little table set up, and there’s plenty enough space for two people to dance.

You smile at him and say, “Thank you…my social battery was getting pretty drained when it came to people that weren’t you. This is perfect, Ez. Can we stay out here for a little bit?”

“Angel, we can stay out here as long as you’d like. I was also pretty done with most of the people in there,” he murmurs back as he wraps an arm around your waist and gently pulls you against his side, looking at you fondly. “We should be able to hear the music out here as well, so we don’t even have to go back inside for dancing.”

You sip your rosé and gently rest your head against his shoulder as you and him just watch the sunset. “That sounds…perfect,” you sigh happily.

“Glad to hear it, Angel. I aim to please,” he says.

You glance up at him with a shy smile. “Ezreal, you do an excellent job of pleasing me. In every way that matters and even some that don’t,” you admit. It’s quite an intimate admission, but it’s the truth. Even just being with him, standing here, makes you so very happy.

His eyes light up. “Do I?” he asks in a murmur. “Good. Since we’re being honest with each other, I can tell you that you also do an excellent job of pleasing me, again in all the ways that matter and even those that don’t. Always.”

You finish your wine as he’s talking, gently rubbing his back with the arm you put around him, the one not holding your flute. As he finishes talking, you lean up and kiss his cheek. “Ez, you are so important to me, and I hope you know that. My life would be infinitely darker without you in it,” you say, meaning every single word.

He turns his head and kisses your temple gently. His lips linger on your skin as he quietly confesses, “I do know that. I hope you know I feel the same way about you. A life without you…well that wouldn’t be living to me.”

You look at him as your heart speeds up from his incredibly tender words and the incredibly soft expression he’s looking at you with. “Ezreal…” you whisper, stunned. Tonight alone he’s managed to render you speechless twice by saying the absolute sweetest things. You reach up and cup his cheek, returning his soft expression with one of your own.

Just then, the music starts, disrupting the moment and causing both of you to jump in surprise a little since you were so focused on each other.

You can’t help but start giggling, “Fuck, that scared me!” You lean your head against his shoulder as you continue giggling, and eventually Ez joins in laughing with you, leaning his head on yours for a moment before stepping back from you and facing you.

“Now that we have music, Angel, may I have this dance?” Ezreal asks with a smirk and a well practiced bow, holding his hand out for you to take.

You deposit your empty flute on the little side table before turning back to him and curtsying. “I’d be delighted to give you this dance,” you say, playfully sweet as you place your hand in his, smiling as he easily pulls you closer.

His arms both snake around your waist as the two of you slowly start to sway to the music. Your left arm goes up around his shoulders, while your right hand gently comes up to rest on his chest where his heart is beating. You sigh happily as you let him lead.

He smiles softly at you. “Is this alright, princess?” He asks gently.

You give him a tender smile in return. "Of course," you murmur. “Ez?”

“Yes, Angel?” His soft response gently floats around you, almost like a hug.

“It’s funny you say, Angel, because if you get something new to call me, can I call you something new? You call me Princess, baby, and Angel, while I just call you Ez and Indiana Jones. That seems a little uneven to me."

He smirks gently at you. “I suppose it is uneven. I have no issues with you calling me something else. What were you thinking?” He voices curiously.

“Now of course this would just be between us two when we’re in private, but since you call me baby, could I call you that?” Your voice is shy as you ask the question. “I-I understand if you don’t want me to though, and I can find something else. It just seemed easiest since you already call me that.”

“No, you’re right, that makes sense. Sure, Angel. I have no issues with you calling me that,” he murmurs gently.

You smile brightly at him. “Thank you, baby.” You test out the new nickname. “Oh! What do you think?”

“I like it. It gets my full seal of approval,” Ez states with a grin.

Both of you laugh as you continue to dance with each other, softly chatting for a little bit. Eventually though, you two are just swaying back and forth in comfortable silence, your foreheads resting against one another. The position is so beautifully and peacefully intimate. You’ve never felt as safe as you do on this balcony. And as you realize it, you’re almost a little frightened, as odd as it sounds.

You’ve danced with Ezreal at these sorts of events hundreds of times over the years, but the last few times? Well, you realize they’ve all started feeling like this. Like it’s just you two while everything else is tuned out. Your heart keeps skipping so many beats, all because of one person, the man currently holding you in his arms, and it terrifies you to think about.

Your thoughts start to race as this realization sinks in. Oh shit...what the hell have I done to myself? What have I done in general?? Oh my god….oh my dear fucking god…am I…falling in love with him? Frankly you’re pretty sure you know the answer but you're refusing to believe that right now. That would mean admitting to breaking your own condition you put forth the morning you two agreed to this whole thing. “Condition number 4. No falling in love with each other.”

No, of course I’m not falling in love with him. I’m just surprised because he’s been so sweet since he’s been home this time. It’s because he’s been gone for two months, that’s all. Nothing else. Definitely nothing potentially friendship-ruining. Nope. Absolutely not. Everything is just fine. At this point you’re basically willing yourself to believe that because the alternative isn’t pretty in the slightest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice your arm around his shoulder tightening and your hand on his chest closing into a small fist, but Ezreal does. He can tell you’re completely distracted by something, so he gently kisses your forehead and murmurs softly, “Everything alright, princess? You’re really tense all of a sudden.”

You blink at him in surprise as his gentle voice snaps you back to the present. “O-oh! Y-yes, s-sorry. I didn’t mean to woolgather. I think my feet just finally registered I’m in heels. And they’ve started to hurt a bit. I-it was bound to happen eventually during the evening.” Your excuse is a little weak, but it’s not completely a lie. Your feet are starting to hurt because of the heels.

He nods. “Got it,” he says. “Would you like to sit? Or after one more song we can go home? Whatever you’d like.”

You give him a slightly shaky smile. “One more dance sounds good, Ez,” you decide.

He’s known you long enough though to see that something really has you bothered, and while he knows well that you and heels don’t get along, he’s pretty sure there’s something else in addition to your feet hurting, but he knows better than to push you to talk about it, just as you didn’t push him this morning to talk about what happened on his expedition. He spins you one more time under his arm before gently stepping back.

You hate how the cells in your body immediately seem to protest his absence once he’s away from you, but you can’t seem to help it.

He gives you a bow and murmurs. “The conversation from dinner still has me a little tense. I think going home is wise, Angel. Is that alright with you?"

You start to relax as you nod.

“I know these aren’t your favorite things to go to, so thank you again for coming with me. Truly. There’s no one I’d rather go with,” he says with a small but genuine smile.

Internally, that sets off your alarm bells again. Oh god he can’t say stuff like that to me. I’ll start to believe it…He says it so casually too…fuck me…damnit this isn’t good.

Externally though you manage to keep a calm demeanor, smiling gently at him and squeezing the hand he offers you. “These aren’t my favorite things, true, but you make them much more tolerable,” you admit. You are being honest there. While you might be freaking out inside, you’re not afraid to admit that being with Ez does make elitist society bullshit like this better.

The two of you re-enter the ballroom, leaving the almost cozy little world you created for yourselves on the balcony. The loud hum of conversation is a little jarring compared to the companionable silence and soft conversation the two of you found yourselves in moments ago.

Despite your prior warning thoughts to yourself, you find yourself gripping Ezreal’s hand a little tighter as he leads you through the room to where councilor Hoskel is standing.

Ezreal speaks once he has Hoskel’s attention. “Councilor, we greatly appreciate the invitation. Dinner was delicious and the company delightful. Unfortunately, I find myself still not fully recovered from my journey. I hope you’ll forgive our abrupt departure.”

You listen as he easily slips into the high-society member his parents, when they were here, and uncle trained him to be. You, Ez, and your brother even shared the same cotillion tutor when you were younger, and in moments like this, you’re grateful for the stuffy old woman and her lessons.

You step up next to Ezreal and smile at the elder man. “Yes, truly, thank you for hosting us. I hope the rest of the evening runs just as smoothly as it has so far,” you add on to Ez’s statement.

The councilman smiles at the two of you before jovially saying, “I’m very glad both of you could make it. I look forward to following your next journey, Ezreal. I’m even happy to help fund it when the time comes. And you, Miss (Y/L/N), your future is very bright. Your willingness to always speak your mind and make people listen is unconventional, but very admirable. I’m excited to follow your career, help where I can, and see where you go. I initially thought the friendship between the two of you was an odd pairing, but after the conversation at dinner, I see why Ezreal is always asking you to join him at society events. You clearly do understand him better than anyone. You two make an excellent team, the type of team that only comes from knowing each other as long as you two have. Treasure it in whatever form it takes. Companionship such as this is extremely rare to find.”

You and Ezreal speak simultaneously, “I will.”

You look over at him and blush a little.

Ezreal looks back at you, his expression a little surprised and the very slightest amount of pink on his cheeks. He quickly recovers and turns his attention back to Hoskel. “We appreciate the kind words, sir. Please enjoy the rest of your evening,” he voices before squeezing your hand and leading you from the ballroom to the front of the house where the butler was already informed of your intended departure and had the fancy little carriage brought back around for you two.

You gladly let Ez assist you into the carriage before scooting over on the seat so he can slide in next to you. “That was…that was quite the evening,” you murmur as you gently lean against him and rest your head on his shoulder. “For fuck’s sake, I took on a Piltover councilor. During the soup course!”

Ez’s arm makes its way around you. “For me, nonetheless. It was one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen, (Y/N),” he chuckles softly before gently turning your head to look at him with a soft finger on your chin so he can gently peck your lips. “Thank you, Angel,” he whispers.

You just can’t help it as you lean forward and peck his lips in return, almost like a second nature response at this point. “You’re welcome, Ez. I'll always stand up for the people in my life that I are care about. You know that," you murmur affectionately.

He gently smiles and pulls you closer, allowing you two the rest of the ride to unwind. He’s just so sweet and gentle with you, but even then you can tell something is still a little off with him. You wager he’s likely still a little shaken up by the question he was asked at dinner, and you can’t blame him. While you don’t know everything Ez has faced, you know enough that pondering the “worst” trap he’s seen must be extremely difficult.

“Ez? Dinner and dancing wore me out, so I think I’m just going to undress and relax in bed for a while and read,” you say.

“I like that idea, Angel. I think I’ll join you, if that’s alright?" His voice goes into a very very gentle tease, “If it helps to convince you, I’ll provide the cuddles…”

You can’t help but giggle softly. “I was hoping you would,” you admit, making him smile widely at you.

Once the carriage gets to the front of his house, he gets out and hops down before turning back to help you. Since it’s really just you two and the driver who doesn’t really care, Ez makes it easy on both of you by just sweeping you into his arms and carrying you inside with a gentle, “So you don’t have to walk anymore in those heels.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “Thank you Prince Charming,” you sigh happily as he once again carries you easily upstairs and to his room before gently setting you on the bed and helping you take off your heels.

“Happy to serve you, my princess,” he says with a wink, making you laugh. He then moves around and helps you unzip your dress so you can remove it, letting out a low whistle as he again sees the purple set. “Again, you look fucking stunning,” he murmurs. He softly kisses along your neck and jaw as he helps you remove your hose and the rest of the lingerie.

As he focuses his attention on undressing you, you make sure to do the same for him, quickly undoing his tie and unbuttoning his suit, pants, vest, and dress shirt. As soon as his shirt is unbuttoned your hands are on his chest, savoring the delicious warmth of his skin and the sure “thump” of his heartbeat. You can’t help but look up and giggle softly at him, “How unfair…you’ve thoroughly distracted me.”

“Just as you do to me, Angel,” he chuckles as he undresses the rest of the way. “But, let’s at least get your makeup off and our nighttime stuff done before we distract each other too much, yeah?”

You nod and stand, pecking his lips before you go into the bathroom with your toiletries kit, happily beginning to take off your makeup. You call out to him, “Why is it that getting unready almost feels better than getting ready?? I love dressing up, especially in the beautiful things you so kindly get me, but the feeling of removing my bra for the day and getting my face washed and teeth brushed is almost…divine!”

He comes and joins you in the bathroom, sharing the sink with you. “It’s a good question. I can’t relate to the bra part,” he muses with a grin, “but definitely agree about the feeling of getting the night routine done. Maybe it’s because, once you get it done, that’s when you feel like you can most truly relax.”

You nod in agreement as you brush your teeth. He has an excellent point, and you make sure to tell him so once you don’t have a mouth full of toothpaste. “See, now this is why I like you. Most people would write my musings off as silly ramblings, but not you, baby. You gave me a genuine answer, and I agree with you. I think that’s a great reason!” You rest your head on his shoulder for a moment and smile at him in the mirror.

He laughs. “Anyone who dares to call your brilliant mind silly can fight me. We have the most interesting conversations, Angel.”

You blush happily and kiss his bare shoulder before returning to your night routine. Before long, both of you are cuddling in bed, your legs tangled together and his arms around you as you rest against him and happily read your book. The moment is so lovely and peaceful, you practically forget the stressful thoughts you had earlier. Soon enough, you’re falling asleep, nuzzling his neck as he tells you a story about one of his happier adventures.

“No I don’t care about the pain; I’ll walk through fire and through rain; just to get closer to you…”

You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep when you’re woken up by a soft whimper. Everything is still pitch black out and you’re listening to the stillness to see if it happens again. Eventually you hear it again, and this time you realize it’s coming from Ez who has started shifting in his sleep, based on the movement of the mattress.

“Ez?” you murmur sleepily, wondering if he’s awake. It’s only when he doesn’t respond that you realize he’s likely having a dream.

Suddenly you hear a “(Y/N)? No….no stop!” slip from Ez’s lips.

Oh, he’s sleep talking. He’s saying out loud what he’s saying in his dream, you realize. You focus back on him, trying to figure out what sort of dream he could be having that would make him say your name.

Suddenly, he speaks again, this time his voice a lot more….panicked, which is never a word you associate with your level-headed best friend. “(Y/N)! No! S-Stop! Let her go! She has nothing to do with this! Hurt me if you must, but please don’t hurt her! I’m the one who entered this tomb. N-No! (Y/N)! Kill me, damnit! My life for hers! Just let her go! (Y/N) please hold on! I’m almost there!” His voice is frantic and he’s starting to struggle in the blankets, as if desperately trying to get to you.

Your alarm skyrockets as it’s clear he’s having a terrible nightmare about one of his expeditions and it involves you being hurt in some way. You quickly throw on the lamp on the bedside table and carefully move the covers off of him. While you’re worried about him, you know panicking won’t do anything to help. Your voice is as calm as possible as you shake Ez’s bare shoulder and say, “Ez? Ezreal? Baby, wake up. It’s just a nightmare, Ezreal. It’s (Y/N). Ez! Wake up.”

“No!” he cries out desperately as he suddenly awakens and startles up. His breathing is ragged, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s trembling and gripping the blanket like a lifeline.

“Ezreal?” You gently turn his head to look in your direction. His eyes are wide and unseeing in a haunted expression, and it’s clear he’s not fully awake yet. You cup his jaw, kiss his forehead, and tenderly wipe away his tears. You continue to speak to him in soothing tones as he shakes like a leaf, “Shhhhh Ez, you’re ok. It’s me. It’s (Y/N). Look at me, baby. Focus on me. Focus on my voice. I’m safe, Ezreal. I’m completely safe. Nothing bad happened to me. It was only a bad dream, Ez. We’re safe in Piltover. We’re safe in your room.”

You note the moment he’s fully awake by the spark of recognition in his eyes.

“(Y/N)? You’re ok? You’re not hurt?” he says, his eyes and voice still holding some panic as he frantically looks you over, hands skimming you to physically check your well being for himself.

Whatever he saw has him absolutely terrified. You’ve never seen him so rattled, and it’s honestly jarring, but you don’t let that show, still intent on calming him at the moment.

You gently rest your forehead against his to get him to really focus on you, continuing to wipe away any tears that fall. Your heart squeezes as you continue try and ease the fear from his eyes. “Shhhh. Shhh Ezreal…breathe slowly for me. I’m ok…I’m safe, baby. I promise you, I’m perfectly fine. It was only a nightmare. We’re together, Ez….we’re safe,” you coo softly before wrapping your arms securely around his shoulders and nuzzling his neck just as he likes. “Feel this? You’re here, safe in my arms…” You softly kiss his cheek before gently kissing his lips, lingering until you feel him start to relax against you and feel his arms wind around your waist to pull you closer.

Once you pull back, you again rest your forehead against his and look him in the eye. As you feel him stop shaking, you peck his lips another time. When you eventually move one of your hands back up to his cheek, he eagerly leans into your touch. You tenderly whisper, “That’s it, Ez….back with me now?”

He sighs deeply and nods, closing his eyes and just letting his forehead rest against yours. His breathing slowly regulates and one of his hands comes up to cover the one you placed on his cheek. “Thank god…it was just a nightmare…or a memory, I suppose,” he murmurs so softly you barely hear it.

“I wonder when you go if I stay on your mind.”

You trace along his jaw lightly with your thumb as you softly inquire, “A memory?” You think for a moment. “Ez, I’m not going to make you tell me anything you don’t want to. But, may I ask some general yes or no questions so I can understand what’s going on? You don’t even have to verbally respond, you can just nod or shake your head if that’s easier. You may also stop me at any time, no questions asked.”

He laces his other hand with yours and nods, giving your fingers a squeeze.

You gently squeeze back. “Thank you for trusting me, baby,” you murmur. “To start, you said this is a memory, so this is something you saw?”

He nods and squeezes your fingers before whispering, “Yes. On my most recent expedition. The one I just returned from.”

You gently lay down, silently directing him to lay on your chest, melting as he rests his head where he can hear your heartbeat. Once he’s comfortable, you get back into your line of questioning.

“I see. Was this the trap you didn’t want to discuss at dinner, and the thing that happened that you didn’t want to talk about this morning?” Your voice is soft but your curiosity is unmistakable.

He squeezes your hand tightly and nods. You softly reach down and cup his jaw, melting even more as he closes his eyes, turns his head, and nuzzles your palm.

“Ezreal, did…did you see m-me being tortured when you were in the Tomb of the Fallen Lovers? Was that the trap?” you ask hesitantly. Based on what you heard him say during his nightmare, and hearing what he's told you so far, you can't imagine what else it would be.

He stiffens again and nods, looking up at you with a haunted expression similar to the one he wore when he wasn’t quite fully awake from his nightmare. Once he starts speaking, he whispers so softly you barely hear him, but his whisper is thick with emotion, “(Y/N)…I saw you being tortured and killed. I heard your screams and sobs as they hurt you. I saw you look at me with terror in your eyes as you cried out for me, desperately begging me to save you, to stop the pain. My very soul felt like it was being ripped apart every time I heard you say my name in such pain, in such fear. It was fucking unbearable, (Y/N). It was as if my deepest nightmare had come to life. I was going insane. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get to you. I could do nothing to help you…and then…I-I couldn’t save you in time. I’d never felt so helpless or useless in my life. I believed I failed to keep you alive, (Y/N). That very nearly broke me…completely. What good is my magic, what good am I, if I can’t protect or save those I care for most?”

You look back at him with wide eyes, your heart breaking at the distress creeping back into his voice.

He pauses for a moment to take a shaky breath. “The only thing that snapped me out of it was remembering the rest of the original story. How it was just a cruel illusion on the king and that the queen was really unharmed. That made me remember that you were still here in Piltover, that you hadn’t come with me to Shurima so it made no sense for your captors to have you. That’s what finally made the illusion and trap fall apart. But, fuck it was so realistic…” his voice finally breaks and you feel warm tears gently drip onto your bare chest as his breathing gets unsteady and he again starts to tremble.

You move your hand up to gently wipe away his tears again. Your voice is gentle and tender as you murmur to him, “Shhh, oh baby. Oh my god…oh Ezreal…” you’re struggling not to let emotion overwhelm you too. “No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it. I’m sure Hoskel’s question and the discussion at dinner had something to do with the memory reappearing in your nightmares. Your strength astounds me, Ez. I’d never want to relive that either if I were in your shoes and I’d seen realistic illusions of you being h-hurt or w-worse. Seeing that happen to you…even if it just turned out to be a t-terrifying illusion…God, Ez, it would completely r-ruin me.” You can’t help but let out a shudder as the horrific thought goes through your mind.

His voice sounds softly, “I also knew if I mentioned that trap they’d ask who I saw in there. You know how nosy that group is. And I didn’t want you finding out I saw you in there at the same time as other people, not when it’s none of their damn business. I wanted to tell you myself, in private. You deserved to hear it from me in private. That’s not the type of news to surprise someone with in public. I respect you too much and you’re too important to me.”

You gently shift down the bed so you can better cuddle him. He immediately nuzzles your neck, allowing you access to kiss his temple. “I’m very glad you told me in private, Ezreal. We’ll need to talk about this more later, because I’m sure it means something important that I can’t comprehend at…” you peek at his clock, “…3:26 in the morning. But for now, let’s table this extremely distressing topic and just focus on trying to get back to sleep. What else can I do to help you right at this moment to help you relax? Would you like some tea? Warm sweetmilk? Water?” You ask softly, playing with his hair.

He thinks for a moment before looking up at you and murmuring, “Warm sweetmilk doesn’t sound bad right now. Can I come with you to make it? I think getting out of bed for a bit would be helpful.”

You nod and trace his lips with your fingertips as you utter a simple, “Of course, Ez…”

You blush as he gently grabs your hand and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he gets out of bed and pulls on a shirt and boxers. He tosses you another one of his shirts and then the neatly folded underwear of the lacy purple set so you can also get dressed.

Once you are ready, he offers his hand, giving you a shaky smile as you lace your fingers with his and give his hand a squeeze before letting him lead you into the rest of the dark house.

Despite the darkness and many stairs, thanks to Ez’s guidance, you never feel unsteady or unsure of your step. As the two of you move quietly, you can’t help but silently ponder everything you’ve seen and heard tonight. Why would he see me in the trap? I-is this why he’s been so very sweet lately? It’s overwhelming to think about, especially considering the thoughts you had earlier at the party. As well, for your own sanity, you don’t want to consider how very close you might have come to losing Ez. After calming him, the last thing you want to do is work yourself into a panic. You push those troubling thoughts to the side and move back to the present to focus on making both of you some much-needed warm sweetmilk.

He easily guides you to the kitchens, grabbing a couple mugs while you grab a pot and a cold bottle of milk. The two of you meet back at the stove and you’re relieved to see how he’s already far more relaxed than when he woke up. You pour the milk into a pot and add some sugar, anise, and a couple dashes of cinnamon while Ez easily gets the stove going. You grab a wooden spoon and carefully place the pot over the heated grate. As the milk heats to a simmer, you stir occasionally, keeping a close eye on things and getting lost in the routine of the recipe.

“You’re quite good at that, it seems,” a low voice murmurs by your ear as Ezreal wraps his arms around you from behind and sleepily nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He lays feather soft kisses there, making you sigh softly and tilt your head a little so he has more access.

“I happen to be a sweetmilk enjoyer when I can’t get to sleep, which is unfortunately more common than I'd care to admit. Are you trying to distract me? You’ll make me scald the milk, Ez,” you voice, mock offense coloring your tone.

You shiver as you hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers, “Would you rather I stop, Angel?”

You’re infinitely glad your teasing Ezreal is back after everything he saw in his mind, even if he’s making it much harder to focus on stirring the milk. “I mean my answer is no, baby, but, since I’m mianly making this for you, maybe you can wait until we’re back upstairs and not dealing with appliances that involve heat. You’re well aware of my clumsiness.” you tease right back.

Ez lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine….we can be sensible,” he grumbles, though you can hear the smile he’s trying to hide.

You turn your head slightly and grin, saying, “Out of the two of us, that tends to be my role, yes. The sensible one. You’re the bad influence who managed to corrupt me a little bit. But I’m not really complaining. Being a goody-two-shoes all the time was so stressful.” You finish your point by turning your head a little bit more and kissing his cheek.

“What a pair we make.” This time he definitely can’t hide the smirk on his face.

You laugh as you finish heating the milk, straining out the larger spices as you carefully pour the liquid into the two mugs he brought over. “Hopefully you like it. There are a million different ways to make warm sweet milk, but this happens to be the way I was taught by my mom,” you say as you hand his mug to him and pick up your own.

“Cheers!” You hold your mug up and smile as he gently clinks his against yours before both of you take a first sip.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs happily, his fond gaze finding you. “That’s so good….that is exactly what I needed. Thank you, (Y/N).”

You smile back at him. “Happy to help, Ez. Always.”

You turn off the stove and put the small pot you used into the sink to be washed later. After you return to him and grab your mug, you take his free hand and lead him back upstairs.

Back in his room, you hand Ezreal your mug so you can climb into bed first, sitting up against the pillows. You then take both mugs as he climbs in and settles next to you. Once you give him back his mug, you wrap your free arm around his back, gently cuddling him.

“Now that we have my second favorite sleep aid, how do you feel?” you ask as he lays his head on your shoulder.

He smiles. “Much better. And cuddles certainly don’t hurt either,” he admits shyly. “But back it up a bit. So sweet milk is your second favorite sleep aid. What’s your first?” He asks curiously, popping his head up and adjusting his position so he can look at you.

You can’t help but blush and let out a giggle before smirking widely at him. “It’s you, Ez. I sleep really well when we’re together. You’re number one because your methods definitely make me feel the…well...best,” you confess, unable to keep from giggling some more when you see surprised, wicked delight flash in his eyes as he starts smirking back at you.

“Well well well,” he murmurs. He gives you a mock bow as best he can in his current position as he leans towards you. “Happy to be of service, my princess,” he whispers playfully into your ear before capturing your lips in another deep kiss that you’re helpless to resist.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! This chapter was really interesting and fun to write. Like obviously Ezreal comes off as so confident and arrogant almost always, but the man has likely seen some shit in his travels and I wanted to explore that a little. Also I am a SUCKER for a good FWB gone wrong story. It's looking like Chapter 3 will be the last chapter of this particular fic, but I'm enjoying this "universe" so don't be surprised if there is a future one-shot based in it lmao.

#ezreal #ezreal fic #ezreal x reader #reader insert #ezreal fluff #ezreal smut #ezreal angst #league of legends #league fanfic

[sarasarami10]

Avatar OC creator sheet

Made this for my friend who wanted me to draw her oc so i thought i'd share it will y'all.

You can use this and modify it as you want

A) Sex:

Female 

Male

Other

Precisions:

 B)Feature type:

Sea 

Forest

Other

Precisions:

C) Skin color:

( I consider omatikaya to be medium blue and metkayina to be medium green-blue)

Light green-blue

Medium green-blue

Dark green blue

Very light blue

Light blue

Medium blue

Dark blue

Very dark blue

Light grey-blue

Grey-blue

Dark grey-blue

Other

Precisions:

D) Stripes type:

Omatikaya

Metkayina

Other

Precisions:

E) Stripes quantity:

Minimal

Normal

A lot

Other

Precisions:

F) Eye color: 

Light yellow

Medium yellow

Dark yellow

Light orange

Medium orange

Dark orange

Light blue

Medium blue

Dark blue

Light green

Medium green 

Dark green 

Other

Precisions:

G) Hair color:

Black

Brown

Grey

White

Other

Precisions:

H) Hair length:

Bald

Buzz cut

Very short

Short

Shoulder length

Medium long

Long 

Very long

Under the butt cheeks long

Other

Precisions:

I) Hair type:

Straight

Wavy

Curly

Very Curly

Coily

Other

Precisions:

J) Hair style:

Loose

One big braid

Braids

Ponytail

Pigtails

Dreads

Half up

Bun

Other

Precisions:

K) Added hair:

Bangs

braids

Bun

Ponytail

Dreads

Other

Precisions: 

L) Body type:

Starving

Extra skinny

Skinny

Medium

A bit over medium

Love handles

A bit more curvy

Big 

Extra big

About to explode

Other

Precisions:

M) Body features:

Omatikaya

Metkayina

Other

Precisions:

N) Scars:

Yes

No

Precisions:

O) Missing limbs:

Yes

No

Precisions:

P) 5 fingers:

Yes

No

Precisions:

Q) Top:

No

Bikini style

Necklace

Human shirt

Other

Precisions:

R) Bottom:

No

Loincloth

Bikini style

Human pants

Scarf

Other

Precisions:

S) Accessories: 

Earring

Necklace

Armband

Bracelet

Wristband

Ring

Belt

Bandage

Scarf

Songcord

Knife

Bow

Poucht

Hair accessories

Other

Precisions:

T) Shoes:

Yes

No

Precisions:

U) Weapons:

Bow

Knife

Dagger

Sword

Gun

Staff

Other

Precisions:

Other: 

References photos:

#avatar oc #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar fanart #avatar commissions #avatar characters #avatar the way of water #avatar fandom #avatar 2022 #avatar art #atwow #the way of water #avatar james cameron

[toadeyes-miqote]

Hylnyan character sheet

Character sheet template from Cparrisart on twitter

22 at the start of ARR (roughly two years and a bit by 6.45 or 6.5)

Haurchefant would like to have some words with her regarding beauty and confidence, just because she's considered plain by Miqo'te standards, doesn't mean (long rant here with points added by G'raha, Leofard and Aymeric)

Enquire with Exarch for how scary she is. G'raha is intimidated by her at times (stop putting her on a pedestal and she'll react better)

Doman kids call her Nyan-chan

Oni of Light(Toy version blurt to be done) because of the Ashuran Hachigane (DRK these days) that she keeps wearing. She fights like a demon / yokai cat so... The Four Lords are partly to be blame if they groom her into that title. The biggest culprits are the Doman kids for inflating/conflating her legend. (small like a Nagxian cat but fierce against the serpent prince... Does Nezha analog exist here since Qitian Dasheng does?)

High House Ishgardian citizen, Gridanian officer. Kan E-Senna and Aymeric are agreeable on this even though she's from the Shrouds. See Hien over there making her a Doman citizen and Steppes folk claiming her as Khagan. Stay out of this fight Exarch.

Not even after that talk by Temulan (stars, torch, guides) and Vrtra (threads, tapestry). She does not believe that strongly in fate and destiny (its more an added job left behind by Azem)

The godslayer is still not particularly spiritual after EW and its raids and meeting Nophica and Memphina and Hydaelyn

Emet-Selch would like to have a few words with her about Higher Powers and soulmates. But she lacks the ability to comprehend his words (see Hythlodeaus laughing his ass off by the side. What?! Her blank Miqo'te stare is adorable)

Her intelligence is probably with Meteor, Ardbert or whichever shard that strong in magic

Please refer to Gaius, Lolorito, Urianger, Hermes, Emet-Selch when it comes to defining Good and Evil. Just because its for the greater good, doesn't mean she agrees to it. So many shades of grey~~~~

She is shorter than the OC she was modeled after 176-180cm. The off chance that she'll be her default height but short as a Hrothgar... Seriously thinking her father might be Hrothgar. Utterly hilarious that OC's husband is around 2m tall. Cracks me up whenever she's next to Zenos/tall blond guys. And I'm like "But your husband..." Her husband was suppose to be alt but I'm too tired to play too many characters, so he's her retainer. In his Miqo'te form he lost his default height too...

I have no idea why she's so detached. I work with what she gives me and stop trying to micromanage her story. she is still within the personality parameters of her OC.

Her flirtiness and tendency to keep suiters at arms's length... pun intended

#FFXIV #character sheet #Hylnyan #WoL trivia #Miqo'te Papers #wolqotd

[meoproject]

Hi! I have some preposed/YCH commissions up for offer. Complex character details, armor or weapon might increase the price! Price includes a simple or "mid-range" complex weapon or prop. Ask if unsure. Simple "graphic" background included. Just a color splash/texture/gradient/sketch to add mood. IF you want to get a more complex background, ask, and we might be able to discuss it. For your money you get both a web-sized version for sharing and posting [longest side ~1280 px] and a full work file for personal viewing. All genders and species work, including both anthro and human(oid) characters. The sketches shown above are just to show the pose and possible expression. For example, green pose character can have a different expression, and purple pose doesn't need to be for an anthro character. Body types are adjustable, to a reasonable degree. I can edit proportions and make characters taller/shorter, make characters more muscular or chubbier etc. Characters with extremely stylized proportions (such as any hyper character, shortstacks etc.) and taurs/nagas or characters with extra arms/legs/heads won't work with these, sorry! Wings are okay, but will cost extra. All poses can be flipped to change the handedness of the character. Blood/bruising on the character or on the ground can be added, if you want a more violent picture. Poses: ‣ Pose A: "Purple" -- Polearm/Staff type weapon. For example, spear, halberd, scythe... magic effect in a shape of a polear weapon would also work very well. TAKEN ‣ Pose B: "Blue" -- Revolver, pistol or pistol crossbow. ‣ Pose C: "Green" -- Double daggers/knives, or claws (either characters own claws, or claw weapons) or gloves or brass knuckles, or even bare hands or magic effects... Payment up front, no holds, no payment plans, this is not an auction so choose whichever option you want. Somewhat of an artist freedom type of deal -- you will get no wips or revisions, but you obviously get to choose the pose, and I will fix mistakes I've made and that are not result of insufficient or inaccurate references. You can choose an outfit and weapon type, or let me have freedom. Intricate armor costs extra and might get stylized. General ToS applies! My general commission info (includes links to queue and ToS) is here: https://meoproject.tumblr.com/commission PLEASE NOTE that these might take anything from 1-2 months to complete! If you need a specific deadline, contact me, and we can discuss. If interested, e-mail me sirmeo[at]gmail.com !  Please include the following information: - Your username (you won't be credited otherwise!) - Your paypal address for invoicing - Your character name - What level of finish you're looking for (flats, shaded, soft shaded) - Your character reference (1-3 best pictures) - Desired pose letter and color   - Outfit & Weapon. Can be something specific (include reference!), just a style ("plate armor and a sword" / "pirate outfit + rapier"), mix of the two ("I want her to wear the outfit in the ref sheet, and any staff you feel works") OR, if you don't have any ideas, you can just let me have free rein. Please note that complicated and specific outfits and weapons might cost extra. - Other info, such as expression/mood, if you want blood/bruising etc.

#commission #commissions #ych #prepose #ramblings #long post

[emmairwindesign]

cover image generated using runway experiment generative engine.

I want to talk about language - mainly words, and how they can be used as a design tool. I began to be able to articulate this when I was listening to Bon Iver’s 22, a million.

I noticed the invented language that was written into the lyrics. The whole of Bon Iver’s catalogue is “pretty cryptic”, as reddit fans have noted with lyrics "Someway, baby, it's part of me, apart from me.” (Holocene) “sky is womb and she’s the moon”(Flume), or “well you’re standing on my sternum don’t you climb down darling”(Towers).

But, as we venture from the first two ‘seasons’ (albums) into the third, 22, a million is formed of cryptically entangled, number-based tracks, where Justin Vernon has made up words to articulate himself.

Track 2, ‘10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⊠ ⊠’, sees the words:

‘feever’ (written with an extra ‘e’ to denote how it is pronounced in the song? or perhaps the intensity or sensation of the fever?)

‘fuckified’(something that has been fucked up? like ‘glorified’ but ‘fuckified’, but difficult because ‘fuck’ is so universal/mouldable applicable to many things anyway)

‘dedicoding’ (a reference to Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials series)

‘unorphaned’(***“**I’m unorphaned in our northern lights” which really sounds like it is Lyra discovering about her parents. another His Dark Materials reference*)

‘dEAThbREasT’ the track title, its own new word

Referencing aside, these words are interesting because they are a hybridisation or altering of the existing English lexicon, and when paired with the strangely written title ‘dEAThbREasT’, we know it’s completely (and artistically) intentional.

The fact that I’m from London, and Vernon is from Upper-Midwestern America (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) it is understandable that our uses of the english language will differ slightly- and I’m talking about away from American/English comparisons (although that will be a contributing factor). I think it’s also safe to say Vernon is well-read; he comes from a Middle class family, and studied Religion and Women’s studies at Undergrad level.

His songs typically include vocabulary that I have not heard (in or out of music) prior to listening and looking up lyric sheets and definitions of these words. So, when added to his methodology of writing lyrics from their sounds, and then finding words to fit the sounds, plus his (unusual?)(and impressive) vocabulary, it’s no wonder that new words emerge in the process of songwriting.

Track 5, 29 #STRAFFORD APTS also contains a new compounded word; ‘paramind’. Fans have different theories of its definition - *“Paramind” is phonetically similar to the word “paramour,” which means a secret or an illicit lover**. ****But, in the larger context of the song, its meaning becomes more multitudinous and ambiguous without losing its power and effect on the listener. Personally, I’m left wondering and thinking about this word ‘paramind’ - it could refer to a duality of minds (para meaning beside, so minds side by side), or perhaps a paranoia (paranoid + mind = paramind), or maybe even the entangled-ness of one’s mind with that of a lover’s; all of the above.

Other examples include, and are not limited to:*

Astuary, from “8 (circle)” — 22, A Million

Arboretic, from “Minnesota, WI” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Ceremon, from “Towers” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Hagen, from “Towers” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver In-vetted, from “Hinnom, TX” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Michicant, from “Michicant” — Bon Iver, Bon Iver

Rememorize, from “21 M♢♢N WATER” — 22, A Million

*list taken from Mark Hinog’s post on Medium

These new associations use language as a vessel for expression, and words are created as a means of enhancing this method. I would like to draw a comparison between this word-making and Sapir-Whorfian theory of Language Relativity, whereby it is believed that language can alter our perceptions of reality. This diagram is Whorf’s way of explaining the different ‘experienced realities’ of language:

Whorf's illustration of the difference between the English and Shawnee gestalt construction of cleaning a gun with a ramrod. From the article "Science and Linguistics", originally published in the MIT Technology Review, 1940.

The English version (and I only speak english) is a very observational, and individualistic (and human-centric) experience, whereas the Shawnee is more visceral; it concerns the objects involved, their qualities, and motions.

So, shorthand, language-making is an offering of a perspective. → I can create a word to illustrate my perspective.

So, if language can alter perspective/reality, then I would like to suggest that it can also alter relationships and perspectives. And as I mention this, we need the help of Latour’s  Actor Network Theory to articulate that everything in the social and natural worlds exists in constantly shifting networks of relationships, meaning I am not simply addressing the idea of person-person relationships, or person-object relationships, but object-object relationships too. I will even push the boundary of what an ‘object’ is, and expand the term to ‘entity’, meaning they can be natural, technological, human, and they can be tangible or intangible. I am asking you to question your understanding of what an object  is, or can be, and what a relationship is, or can be, and what that will mean for (your) perspective, and how then you can use language (or design, or both) as a method of articulation.

We need only to look as far as Timothy Morton’s ‘Hyperobjects’ as an example of language-making to name a concept he has written a whole book about.

Or, if you prefer a more practical design-based example, then ‘Collapscapes’ by El Ultimo Grito is a good one.

Linguistic relativity points at a difference in gestalt between languages (as shown in the diagram above). Gestalt being a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts; the language used to describe the scenario creates a difference in perspective and experience that is greater than the singular words alone. I would like to investigate this as a method for design by positioning it against a theory for the global skill of drawing* - and the perception of the gestalt (seeing the whole and its parts) and of using the right hemisphere of the brain to access alternative perspectives.

*Betty Edwards’ Drawing on the right side of the brain is a methodology for (cognitively) ‘shifting’ the consciousness of the artist (and I add, designer) from the ‘dominant left hemisphere’ (concerned with language, timekeeping etc) to the right hemisphere, where we ‘think’ in forms, shapes, and spatial relationships. One of the ‘tricks’ employed to cause this ‘shift’ is upside down drawing, where the left-brain cannot identify/name shapes, and so ‘drops out’ of the task of copying the upside-down image.

Edward’s book also lists 5 skills of drawing:

The perception of edges (seeing where one thing ends and another starts)

The perception of spaces (seeing what lies beside and beyond)

The perception of relationships (seeing in perspective and proportion)

The perception of lights and shadows (seeing things in degrees of values)

The perception of the gestalt (seeing the whole and its parts)

She notes that ‘the first four skills require direct teaching - the fifth occurs as an outcome or insight - a visual and mental comprehension of the perceived subject, resulting from the focused attention of the first four’.

I can ‘see’ direct parallels between these five skills and Latour’s Actor Network Theory; we can use these skills as metaphor for object-object relationships, and utilise them as designers to help define our territory, or outline the perspective from which we wish to interrogate our subject matter. Design exists because of the creative ability to shift between hemispheres; designers must perceive the edges of their territory and articulate outcomes through the process of designing and making - yet they must also contextualise their work in a very left-hemisphere fashion of reference making and research.

It is not entirely clear where the job-role of one hemisphere stops and the other begins - it is very much a blurring of responsibilities, defined at the discretion of the designer. I also think this is why design is a discipline of ‘borrowing’ whereby we do not necessarily mind where (or which field) our reference material comes from, but we use its right-hemisphere-qualities (of spaces, relationships, edges, light and shadows, and gestalt) to articulate and ground ourselves in our rational left-hemispheres.

In my work, I often experience ideas as ‘feelings’ that I cannot articulate with words or pictures. However, I am able to find references and say “it’s a bit like this”. Through this gathering of likenesses, I am then able to put them together in my mind, or through writing, designing, or drawing in what might resemble an outcome.

Design Language, therefore, does not have to follow the strict rules of ‘regular language’; making up, or fabricating words to express the inexpressible is great, and should be encouraged*.

*I was recently talking to a designer (architect), who spoke about his work and used the word “homo-normative” (as opposed to heteronormative) to speak about his research into gay culture, and the existence of gay relationships in ‘neutral’ architectural spaces such as public toilets. He said for the gay community, it is (more) ‘normal’ for a married man (in an unhappy hetero marriage) to conduct his (gay) relationship in these neutral spaces- as he cannot have a man in his marital bed. The designer then used the term “homo-normative” to describe the nature of this predicament - all the while explaining that ‘people’ (I don’t know who - I guess ‘straight’ people?) ‘weren’t happy’ with his using/creation of the word. My argument is that we need to, and should create language to articulate these scenarios and territories we find ourselves in as designers.

We can use language as another tool to design the form and means of expression for the things we imagine and create. Linguistic points of reference make design quantifiable, and something we are able to talk about.

#writing

[inkandpen22]

First Meeting

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Y/N begins her 1st day as a member of the BAU and Spencer is immediately taken by her

A/N: I’m always adding new one shots for Reid so if you’d like to be tagged lmk!

Masterlist

Spencer

Garcia comes up beside me on my way to the meeting room, all excited and bouncy. "Did you hear we're getting a newbie today?" 

I stop in my tracks with a huff. "Wait, what? No! No one told me!" JJ walks by on her way to the briefing and I ask her. "Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?" 

"Hotch is bringing her up now," JJ grins over her shoulder. 

"Her?" I repeat, following her into the room. 

"Yeah, he's going to introduce her during the UnSub briefing," Morgan adds as he takes his usual set. 

"Did everyone know about this before me?" I sigh, plopping down in my chair. 

"Apparently," Morgan pokes fun. 

"Morning everyone," Hotch greets as he marches into the room. 

"Morning," everyone else greets as I set my stuff down. 

"Good-" My words disappear as I lift my attention away from my files toward the door and that's when I see her. 

"This is Agent Y/N Y/L/N," Hotch introduces. "She is of the most recent Quantico graduating class and will be joining our team." 

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," JJ offers Y/N her hand. 

The girl shakes her hand with a warm smile. "You too! Thank you guys for letting me sit in," she announces to the group. 

I swallow hard. She's so young, she's like me. 

"How old are you anyway?" Morgan questions, leaning back in his chair. 

"Twenty-two," she answers. I knew it. "I graduated undergrad early." 

"Aw like Spence," Prentiss gushes. 

I don't even react to Prentiss petting my hair. Usually, I would swat her hand away. All I can do is stare at Y/N. I've lost all function like a robot missing a piece. 

"Spencer?" JJ says my name with a hint of worry. It sounds like background noise, so faint. 

Morgan chuckles. "I think Reid's head just exploded." 

"Earth to Spencer," Prentiss waves her hand in front of my face. 

I snap out of my daze and swat her hand away. "Stop it," I mumble. 

A blush forms on my cheeks, I can feel it. I clear my throat nervously and try to act normal as I open up my file. Y/N takes the empty chair across the table from me. She offers me a smile. I feel this weird feeling in my stomach like I've had too much coffee and am all jittery. 

JJ redirects everyone's attention to the screen. "Okay guys, let's begin. We've been receiving a series of calls from several police stations in Atlanta. There's been a series of livestock killings ranging from pigs to more commonly lambs. Each stabbed and hearts removed. Then, symbols painting on her foreheads and stomachs." 

"Go back please," Y/N requests, surprising everyone. 

JJ's brows scrunch together. "Do you see something, Y/N?" 

"The locals think it's a cult?" She asks. 

JJ looks over her papers and nods. "Yes actually." 

"It's not," Y/N states with the utmost certainty. 

My brows scrunch together as I begin to analyze the image myself. I wasn't paying attention before. I hate to admit it, but I was distracted. She's right, this isn't the work of a cult. 

"How can you tell?" Hotch questions with narrowed eyes. 

"The pentagram is wrong," I answer. My eyes meet Y/N's and she smiles. 

"We're more likely dealing with teens or college students, outcasts, trying to scare the community," she adds. "Is that a college nearby?" 

JJ skims her research and pulls out a sheet. "Yes, two." 

"Does one of a greater population of local students?" I ask. 

"Um..." JJ reads. "Yes." 

"I think we should start there," Y/N concludes. 

Hotch nods, rising from his chair. "Okay, wheels up in an hour everyone. Prepare," he instructs before heading to the door. "Good work, Y/N." 

"Thank you, Sir," she grins, evidently proud of herself. 

"Now there's two of him," Morgan chuckles as he gathers his things. 

Y/N laughs. "What?" 

"He's referring to me," I assure her. "The way you noticed the unfinished pentagram and narrowed down the profile, usually, I do that." 

"Oh, sorry!" She's quick to apologize. 

"No, no!" I wave my hands in a panic. "It's nice having someone else around who notices details like that. Makes me feel less annoying and a know-it-all." 

______________________________________

Y/N

Hotchner, Reid, and I stand on the other side of the one-way mirror as our next interviewee gets settled in by the police. He's a student at the local university and fits the M.O. A complete outsider, impressionable, a history of emotional disorders and animal abuse, it's a perfect match. 

"Sir, do you think Spencer and I could go in?" I request. 

Hotchner raises a brow. "Do you think you're ready?" 

"Yes, and just in case that's why I ask to have Spencer with me." 

"Spencer, what do you think?" The leader questions, watching as the cops release Brian from his handcuffs and depart the room. 

Spencer glances past Hotchner over to me. He nods. "I think she's ready, Sir." 

I suppress a smile and redirect my attention to our potential UnSub. 

"Very well, go ahead," Hotchner approves. 

"Thank you, Sir," I say as I head toward the door. 

Spencer holds the door for me and we step out into the hall. 

Before we enter the interview room, I had my file over to Spencer. 

"Here, could you hold this for a second?" 

He takes the stack nervously. "What... What are you doing?" 

"I have an idea." I remove my scrunchie from my hair and toss it around a bit. Spencer watches as I slip my scrunchie onto my wrist and begin to unbotton the top to buttons of my blouse. I readjust my boobs a little and pull down my blouse. I take the waist of my skirt and pull it up a little. "How do I look?" I ask the boy when I'm done. 

"I... uh... I..." He stammers. 

"Perfect!" I smile, taking back my things. 

I enter the room first, Spencer following close behind. "Hi Brian, I'm Agent Y/L/N and this is Agent Dr. Reid," I introduce as we take our seats across the table. 

"You two look like you could go to my school," Brian laughs. "How old are you guys anyway?" 

 I smile and ignore his question and stick to the topic. "We're just going to ask you a few questions." 

Brian smirks. "Well, can I ask you something first?" 

"Of course," I assure him. 

"Can I have your number?" He asks boldly. 

"I um..." I'm at a loss for words. 

"I don't think that's very appropriate." Spencer defends with a stern tone. 

"What? Are you her boyfriend or something?" Brian mocks. 

"Uh no, but this isn't a personal conversation this is an investigation, so let's stick to only necessary questions," 

Brian complies and I continue my interview. He gets off track here and there, but Spencer steps in. I'm thankful that Spencer is quiet for the most part, only when to redirect Brian back to the purpose of our interview. I feel calmer with Spencer next to me. For some reason, his presence makes me feel safe even though we may have a serial animal abuser and cult member across the table from us. When I conclude our interview, Spencer and I rise from our chairs. I tell Brian that authorities will be in soon to take more of his information. 

"So how's about a date?" He asks again for a third time within the last thirty minutes. 

I ignore him as Spencer opens the door for me. 

"What? I'm not your type?" The kid chuckles. 

I stop and spin on my heels to face Brian. I press my palms against the table and lean closer to the boy, startling him. "Frankly no, you're not. I'm into older guys and... well..." I eye him up and down and giggle. "You're nothing but a kid." 

He swallows hard, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. I smirk and step outside into the hall. Spencer joins me and shuts the door behind us. He wears a bewildered expression. I begin to tie my hair up again and button up my shirt. 

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he voices as we head toward the door to the watch room.  

I shrug. "Eh it's okay, he's just a kid. Plus, I'm used to it." 

When we enter, Morgan and Hotchner are still observing Brian's behavior. Morgan steps closer to Hotchner, making room for Spencer and me. I catch a glimpse of Brian through the mirror and his head is in his hands. 

"Good work," Hotchner compliments us. 

"Interesting approaching," Morgan nods. "Seems to be working." 

"Thank you," I grin, bringing my arms crossed over my chest. "I figured it was worth a shot. 

A comfortable silence remains in the room as the four of us watch Brian slowly crumble. 

Spencer leans closer to me and I extend my neck out to him. "Is it true, what you said about being into older guys?" He questions quietly between us. 

I turn my head to look at him and his face is full of curiosity. "How old are you?" I ask. 

His brows scrunch together. "Twenty-seven." 

I smile, turning my attention back to Brian as he continues to fidget. "Yes, it's true." I back up to step outside and fetch a coffee. I suspect this will be a long night. 

Spencer

Right as Y/N steps out, Morgan sighs. "Aw Reid, you're in trouble man," he laughs. 

Hotch chuckles from beside him. 

I frown. "What do you mean?" 

"Seriously?" Morgan raises a brow as he turns his body to face me. "She just told you she's into you." 

"No, she didn't, she just asked me how old I am and told me-" I pause, reviewing our interaction just seconds prior and I begin to piece it all together. My eyes grow wide. "Holy crap, she's into me!" 

"You better jump on that, Big Guy!" Morgan pats me on the shoulder. 

Hotch wears a sly grin, pretending to be focused on Brian, but it's evident he's amused by us. 

__________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @mrsobrien888​ @hufflepufftruffle @gillybear17 @thatsonezesty13 @smol-flowerkiddo @reesespieces10123 @madds-m @az3r0o @wafflebacon23 @spencerreid-mgg @alfonsais @justlivinginadaydream @kaitlynpcallmebeepme @farah3012 

@doveygirlkay-blog @dreatine  @imhappybutimalsosad @parahmur  @tremendousdinosaurhideout  @destiny-dream67  @ashwarren32  @yeahjustcallmer-n @bluehydrangea-cherry​ @izzysecrets

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer x reader #derek morgan #imagine #fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic

[castletown-cafe]

Castletown Café Episode 8: Pipis Cookies

“HEY EVERY !! IS THI5 TH E [[Accept All Cookies]] RESIPE [Is it me you’re looking for]  ?  WELL LOOK NO FURTH3R [[Little Sponge]]S !!  FOR [THE LOW LOW PRICE] OF [[free]] YOU C4N FIN LLY MAKE YOUR VERY OWN [PIPIS] [[Web cookies]]. THE5E LITTLE [Suckers] LO0K JUST L I KE [Fresh PIPIS Only $4.99] WTH DELICIS [[Lemon flavored]].

“BUT WAIT  !!  DON,T [Breathe] YET, WE’vE GOT [[A 2 FOR 1 SPECIL]] ! [NOT ONLY DO YOU GET] A [[Browser cookie]] RESIPE BUT ONE FOR [[The icing on the cake]] INCLUDED !

“CL1CK HERE BELOW [[While Supplies Last!]]”

Thank you, Spamton, I’ll take it from here.

Easter may have come and gone, but spring is still in full swing and so is nesting season. Wouldn’t surprise me if Spamton loves this time of year because, well, pipis. Most likely inspired by Pipi’s attack from the Mega Man franchise, hence the name, these strange blue eggs explode into little projectiles shaped like Spamton’s face that are inescapable and deal damage. When confronted with them, your goal is to destroy them before they destroy you.

Despite resembling eggs, they are described as “an invasive species of freshwater clam”, a joke referring to the pipi, a species of seawater clam native to New Zealand, which shares the same name as the aforementioned Pipi.

These sugar cookies inspired by Spamton’s infamous attack are full of lemon flavor fitting for spring! How fancy, a few of them are even decorated with little bows, a nod to the very rare Ms. Pipis you may encounter in an otherwise darker route.

For the cookie recipe, I looked at several lemon sugar cookie recipes and based mine off of the two I liked best: Rosanna Pansino’s Lemon Sugar Cookie recipe from her book “The Nerdy Nummies Cookbook”, as well as Maria Lichty’s recipe from twopeasandtheirpod.com - with a few of my own modifications. These cookies turned out beautifully. Soft, fluffy, lemony, and delicious.

As for the lemon icing, I ran into trouble. Not necessarily with the recipe so much as my own inexperience with making and working with cookie icing. The header image is evidence I’m no expert with royal icing and I do need a lot of practice, and I learned the hard way just how thin this icing can be. I totally understand if you want to use a different icing recipe after reading this, but be warned, many cookie icings call for milk, which doesn’t mix well with lemon juice unless you’re making buttermilk. I was worried this would result in lumpy icing, and since I didn’t have any non-dairy milk alternatives, I instead followed Rosanna Pansino’s recipe on Royal Icing (also found in her Nerdy Nummies cookbook) which uses egg whites, powdered sugar, vanilla, and my own addition of 1/4 cup lemon juice to make it “lemon royal icing”. If you’re going to use this recipe, I strongly suggest adding up to 5 cups of powdered sugar so it’s thicker and not too runny, but still floods nicely.

And now, on to the recipes!

PIPIS COOKIES:

Ingredients:

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

2 sticks (1 cup) softened butter (it doesn’t matter if it’s salted or unsalted)

1 & 1/2 cup sugar

2 large eggs

2 tablespoons lemon zest

2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

1 tsp vanilla

Combine flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt in a mixing bowl and set aside. In another, larger mixing bowl, cream together butter and sugar, then beat in eggs, vanilla, lemon zest and lemon juice. Lastly add in your flour mixture, a little at a time, forming your cookie dough. After you’ve gotten all your flour mixture fully incorporated into a nice big doughy ball, divide that dough in half, shape those halves into balls, place in separate airtight containers, and store in the refrigerator anywhere between several hours to overnight.

Preheat your oven to 350 F. Grease your cookie sheets or line them with parchment paper. Bring the chilled dough out of the refrigerator and dust your work surface with flour, then roll out dough to 1/4 inch thick. With an egg-shaped cookie cutter, cut out cookies and transfer these to cookie sheets. Re-roll the dough and cut out more cookies to use as much of your dough as possible.

Bake cookies for 8 to 10 minutes or until cookies are puffed up and no longer shiny or wet looking. Let cookies cool on cookie sheet for several minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

[[BIG SHOT]] TIP: When one of your cookie sheets is full, bake that sheet of cookies while continuing to roll out dough and cut out more cookies to fill in the other sheet. This way, you always have a batch baking as you continue to use as much of your dough as possible, and saves time waiting. Don’t forget to set a timer for the baking cookies!

After your cookies have baked and cooled, it’s time to make the icing.

LEMON [PIPIS] ICING:

Ingredients:

4 or 5 egg whites - if you want it thicker like I did, maybe just use 4 egg whites, but 5 will give you more icing if you need it.

4 or 5 cups powdered sugar

1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Blue and red/pink food coloring

First, with a hand or stand mixer, whip your egg whites until foamy. Add in your powdered sugar, a cup at a time, until desired consistency is reached - if you want your icing nice and thick with a high viscosity, you’ll need at least a whole 32 ounce package of powdered sugar and if you used 5 egg whites, you’ll need another cup more, so make sure you have at least two packages of powdered sugar!

Next, mix in your lemon juice and vanilla. Divide your icing up into different bowls. You’ll want 75 percent of your icing to be blue, 5 percent of it pink, and to leave about 20 percent of it white. Add several drops of blue food coloring to the largest amount of icing (plus an optional drop or two of green to make it teal) and a couple drops of red to the smallest amount to make it pink. Only a few cookies will have pink bows.

You’ll want a piping bag with a good tip. I used a Wilton Tip #4 along with a Wilton re-usable piping bag and coupler. To ice the cookies, pipe an outline following the shape of the cookie, then fill it in, or “flood” it. Don’t get too close to the edges - these cookies are not a flat surface and the icing can still run down the sides. Once your blue icing has begun to harden, grab your white royal icing and write in “pipis” on each cookie (or even just some of them). Add a pink bow on only a few of them - the “Ms. Pipis” are meant to be rare! The easiest way to do this is to make two tiny triangles joined together at the tips. Instant bow!

What I like about the end result of my icing attempt is how only the outside hardened at first, leaving the inside soft for the first couple of days, when the cookies are at their freshest. Sure, this meant they didn’t stack as easily, but I’m okay with that. If you’re more experienced with cookie decorating, I’d love to hear from you if you have any tips you want to share. Thank you for reading!

Sources:

Rosanna Pansino, “The Nerdy Nummies Cookbook”, ISBN 978-1-5011-0401-5

Maria Lichty, https://www.twopeasandtheirpod.com/lemon-sugar-cookies/

#castletown cafe #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #pipis #spamton #deltarune pipis #pipis deltarune #spamton g spamton #spamton fanart #deltarune food #deltarune inspired recipe #cookies #sugar cookies #recipe #cw food #tw food #my art

[mia-japanese-korean]

Iris Garden at Horikiri, Utagawa Hiroshige, 1852, 8th month, Minneapolis Institute of Art: Japanese and Korean Art

right sheet of a triptych This print illustrates a fashion trend that emerged in the last half of the 19th century. Along with somber grays and browns, dark blue was one of the most popular colors among the middle class citizens of the Edo city. The austere elegance of this woman's indigo robe is enhanced by the red of her inner robe that is modestly shown at her cuffs, hem, and collar. The fashion for a more somber, less feminine look was referred to as "iki" in Japanese and became the fashion trend of the late 19th century. Here, pattern has been relegated to the hem of her kimono and consists of a stylized stream and fallen cherry blossoms-adding a somber poetic sensibility to the woman's ensemble. The "iki" aesthetic was more commonly seen among geisha, professional entertainers (dancers and musicians) who worked in the pleasure quarters. Thus, geisha replaced the prostitutes as fashion leaders. Size: 14 3/16 × 9 5/8 in. (36.1 × 24.4 cm) (image, vertical ōban) Medium: Woodblock print (nishiki-e); ink and color on paper

https://collections.artsmia.org/art/61216/

#utagawahiroshige #minneapolisinstituteofart #museumarchive #artsmia

[downwiththeficness]

A Thing Most Desired-Ch. 25

Summary: Rosalind was eight years old when she knew she had a soulmate. At eighteen, she vowed never to find him. To protect her family, Rose makes the decision to tempt fate and she finds that walking away is easier said than done. Kandomere/Bright!FemOC AU

Word Count: ~4,300

Warnings: Canon typical violence

A/N: This story contains references to child murder and kidnapping. It is rated E for explicit sexual content, blood, gore, death, and mature themes. Please heed these warnings, if you’re going to read or interact with this fic.

Taglist: @dystopian-dez382, @miss-rebel-without-applause

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Read on AO3        Masterlist

Reality hit Rose in the face about three hours after she’d gotten off the plane in California. She hadn’t even unpacked, her luggage sitting at the end of the bed, when Kandomere received the phone call as they were trying to decide what to have for dinner. They were leaning towards ordering out, and Rose was angling to try an Indian place Ulysses frequented on lunch breaks.

There would be no take out today, judging by the turn of Kandomere’s tone as he spoke. Rose listened to him talk to Ulysses (she had no doubt it was Ulysses) for about thirty seconds before she sighed, went to the kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee.

As she watched it brew, Rose tried to resolve the resentment she felt at the abrupt interruption to her happiness. The trip to Montana had been so, so nice, and now they both had to deal with whatever was happening at the other end of the phone. They couldn’t have twenty four hours at the estate, just twenty four hours to decompress before it was back to the grind.

Fucking Roman.

Footsteps broke her from her thoughts, and she turned to see Kandomere moving heavily through the kitchen door, pushing his cell into his pocket, “There was another attack.”

Rose wished she hadn’t already anticipated that statement. She wished that it was some form that needed to be filled out, a time sheet that went missing, an expense report that needed filing. Any menial task would be much preferred to the conversation they were about to have.

Pulling her lips between her teeth, Rose considered her response, “Did they take a kid?”

“Yeah.”

“What was their name?”

Kandomere ran a hand through his hair, “Vivian.”

“A little girl…” Rose said more to herself than to him.

He nodded all the same.

“For fuck’s sake,” she breathed, “Any leads?”

Kandomere drew in a breath, “Well, we’re pretty sure its Roman. He’s left the Moloch’s mark on the floor of the living room.”

Rose narrowed her eyes at him, weighing her words carefully, “When did it happen?”

“Last night.”

That didn’t make any sense. Rose had killed the Moloch days ago, had seen it break apart along with the wand in her hand. That left the only conclusion she could draw—Roman had created another Moloch. She closed her eyes against the anger of knowing some poor child was suffering at his hands.

“I have to do that spell,” she said, finally.

There was no use putting it off any longer. Rose had the means to drain the magic, and the life, out of Roman. Delaying any further only added to the potential of more collateral damage at his hands.

Kandomere tensed, his expression going carefully blank, “No, you don’t.”

She looked at him, pleading, “Yes, I do. We need to end this. I can’t take any more.”

Approaching with a soft expression, he gathered her in his arms, “You don’t have to. I can ask to have the case reassigned.”

Pulling back in shock, Rose bit out, “I don’t want it reassigned. I want to see this through.”

He looked down at her with a reserved pity, “Its hurting you too much. You’re too attached to it to think clearly.”

With a sneer, Rose stepped away, crossing her arms, “You’re only saying that because you don’t want me involved.”

“I’m saying it because you’re letting your feelings get the best of you,” he shot back, his brows dropped low.

“Oh, fuck off,” she growled, leaning her hips back against the counter, “My reactions are perfectly normal considering there are children dying.”

“Yes,” Kandomere said, a knife cutting through this tone, “You’re reacting like a normal person, not like a trained agent. A trained agent would be weighing the consequences of that kind of blood magic and considering it too dangerous—no matter the fact that it might work.”

“Well, I guess I’m glad that I’m not a trained agent and any sort of normal feeling hadn’t been beaten out of me at the academy.”

Kandomere’s head pulled back, clearly affronted by her not-so-veiled accusation, “I’ve got to check in with my supervisors and get a case update. I’ll be in my office.”

And then he strode out, his head and shoulders held high. Rose glared at him as he walked away, her lips pressed together firmly to keep cutting words at bay. She listened to the coffee brewing nearby, inhaling the calming scent of it as she tried to figure out what she was going to do.

When the coffee pot gave a happy little ‘ding’ to signal it was done, she poured herself a cup, stirring in the cream and sugar with meditative movements. Taking her first sip, Rose’s eyes caught on Kandomere’s preferred cup sitting innocently on the drying rack. She stared it for a long minute, then sighed deeply and reached over to set it on the counter in front of her.

After filling the cup with hot coffee and pouring in an obscene amount of sugar, Rose stirred it and set the spoon aside. With a cup in each hand, Rose walked over to Kandomere’s office and eased past the half open door. Saying nothing, she set the cup down in front of him and stepped out.

The house was quiet as she slumped down on the couch, drinking deeply from her cup. Deeply immersed in her emotions, she simply sat there, not even bothering to turn on the TV. She doubted that even HGTV would soothe her ire.

It was the silence and stillness of the room that allowed Rose to feel the first disruption in the estate’s magic. It shifted, as if in reaction to being touched, giving a low rumble. Rose paused, cup halfway to her lips, listening. When nothing further happened, she gave a mental shrug and continued stewing in her thoughts.

She’d possibly crossed a line with him in the kitchen, had outright accused him of being unfeeling. Rose knew that wasn’t the truth—or, at least, she thought she knew. They hadn’t ever really talked about feelings before. She knew that he cared for her, felt something deep enough that he married her. But, did he love her? Did she love him?

Did it even matter?

Her eyes stared out the window towards the greenhouse as she continued to mull over the question. She’d have to go in and check on the plants tomorrow when the sun came up. It was already near dusk, and Rose just didn’t have the energy.

The house stirred again, this time with a distinct roll that moved from the outside in. She kept still, mentally reaching out to see where it was coming from. Nothing. She couldn’t feel anything.

She couldn’t feel anything!

The magic of the house that Rose had taken for granted, had assimilated into her every day life, wasn’t there. It was as if it had never been there, as if it had never existed in the first place.

“Kandomere!” Rose cried, setting the mug down hard on the coffee table and standing quickly. “Kandomere!”

He appeared in the doorway, phone in his hand, “What? What’s wrong?”

“The magic is gone.”

“What?”

“The magic is gone,” she repeated, “The protection. We’re sitting ducks.”

Talking into the cell, Kandomere said, “I’m gonna have to let you go,” and ended the call.

In her panic, Rose struggled to control her breaths. She didn’t even really know how long the barrier had been down, how long they had been vulnerable. She’d felt the magic for a minute, and then there had been nothing.

“Upstairs,” she said urgently, “Get the bag of incense I brought from home—the canvas one. Meet me in the basement.”

Kandomere nodded and raced up the stairs with fluid grace and speed. Rose watched him for half a second, then went in the opposite direction. The well was the source of power in the house. It was possible that it had been compromised. She only hoped she had enough juice to get it going again.

Hauling ass down the stairs, Rose stumbled into the basement, her hand slamming on the light switch. It looked just as she had left it, but felt three times as desolate. She could hear Kandomere’s footsteps following not far behind, and he appeared at the bottom of the stairs beside her a few seconds later. He’d taken the time to throw up his hair into a pony tail. He was also armed.

“Here,” he handed her the bag.

With trembling hands, Rose knelt near the well and emptied it beside the stone structure. She’d brought as much of the left over incense as she could, along with a package of grease pencils.

Looking up at him, Rose explained her plan, “I’m going to use the well as a massive mirror and try to recall the magic. If I can’t do that, I’ll use the incense to draw protection. Text your mom, see if she has any ideas.”

While he followed her directive, Rose took her time laying out the marks she needed to funnel her power into the well in an attempt to kick start the house. It was important that she get them right. One false move, and they could both end out dead.

Once finished, Rose crouched next to the well and stared down at her work, double checking. She’d drawn protection symbols over and over, so many times that she’d lost count. The familiarity of the swirling lines did nothing to allay her rising anxiety.

Rising, Rose absently handed the grease pencil over to Kandomere, “I think that’s the best I’m going to do.”

He took the pencil from her and stuck it securely in his hair, “Just...do what you think is necessary.”

She looked at him a moment longer, then gave a quick nod, “Alright. Here we go.”

Hands up, Rose pulled at the magic inside herself. It came easily, as easily as breathing. She stepped up to the well and turned her hands down, pouring magic into the well. Eyes closing, she waited a few seconds, and then said the invocation. Even with her eyes closed, Rose could see the light bursting out of the well.

She poured more and more magic into the spell, her muscles burning with the energy it took to contain the power and remain upright. Gritting her teeth, Rose pushed for more, sweat dropping down her cheek. She resisted the urge to wipe it away, turning her whole focus to holding the spell steady.

Blowing out a harsh breath, Rose let the magic go, leaning heavily against the lip of the well, “God, damn it.”

Frustrated and angry, she rested her head on the stone, breathing hard until her vision cleared.

Behind her, Kandomere shifted on his feet, “Its okay. We’ll wait to hear from mom. Worst comes to worst, we’ll go to Visha’s.”

Shoulders slumped, Rose turned to face him, her response dying on her lips. Behind him, something was drawn on the wall separating the main room from the bathroom, the inky darkness seeming to swell against the taupe paint.

Kandomere clocked her astonishment, her terror, and spun around. In the same motion, he tugged the gun from where he’d tucked it into the waistband of his pants. The glint of the metal seemed too bright in the room, as if the lights had dimmed.

“Back up,” Kandomere muttered, approaching.

“Don’t,” she breathed, her eyes watering as she recognized the Moloch’s symbol.

It had been in the house. The Moloch had been in the house—Hamish, or a new Moloch, Rose couldn’t tell.

“Back. Up,” he bit out.

Reluctantly, Rose obeyed, taking steps back until she hit the side of the well. Tired from the spell and reeling from the feeling of violation, she couldn’t say anything as Kandomere took another step forward.

It happened so suddenly. Literally, in the blink of an eye. The wall yawned open, the mark eating away at space until she could see through to the other side. Covered in slime and shadow, a new Moloch—Vivian—stood at the threshold. Her mouth widened in a horrific smile.

A step inside, an extended skeletal arm.

Between one heartbeat and the next, the thing had a grip on Kandomere. It pulled him through the opening made by the mark of the Moloch. And then there was nothing.

The wall was back in place.

The mark was gone.

Rose was left alone.

And, she had done nothing.

The scream the ripped from her throat was filled with horror and grief, with anger and fear. It scraped at the inside of her throat and echoed back to her—hollow. When it was finished, she breathed inside the empty room.

Reaching into her back pocket, Rose pulled out her cell phone and called the only person she could think to call, “Ulysses?”

“What happened?”

“The Moloch took him. It took Kandomere.”

“Shit...Fuck,” Ulysses ground out, “Okay, stay where you are. I’ll come to you. Are you at the estate?”

Rose shook her head, “No, I mean yes, I am at the estate. But, I won’t be here long. I’m going to follow him.”

“Rosie, you need to wait.”

“No,” she nearly yelled, “I’m following him. I just…need you to follow me.”

There was a noise on the other end of the phone, a crinkling, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Rose sniffed back her tears, steadying herself, “I’m going to use a spell, locate Kandomere, and push myself through. I need you to track my location and send help.”

“Rosie…”

“Please, dad… do this for me.”

A sigh, “Okay. But, I’m not telling your mother.”

She laughed, “I’ll tell her when I see her next. Promise.”

There was a long pause, then, “Okay. I’ll follow you.”

“Thanks.”

Ending the call, Rose tucked the phone securely into her bra strap in case things got messy. And then, she reached into the nothingness space and pulled out the wand. Turning to the well, Rose glared at it.

“I don’t like you. I don’t even know what you are. But, you will obey me.”

Rose cast a spell—this one much different from the last. With the power of the wand, all to happy to be used again, she channeled every word of power that she knew into calling for her husband. The magic, tainted ever so slightly with the piece of him that remained with her at all times, swirled.

Growling out more words, Rose focused on locating him. She let her power rush outwards, seeking him out in every nook and cranny of the land.

It took less than seven seconds.

She got a lock on him, and very quickly made the decision to dive head first into the well. Power roared like wind in her ears, disorienting her as she dropped deeper and deeper. Even landing hard on cement couldn’t knock her back to rights.

Laying on her back, Rose stared at a ceiling that was spinning very, very slowly. She blinked a few times, taking breaths that hurt her lungs. There was no telling how long she stayed like that, but eventually she was able to push herself to sit upright and look around.

She was sitting next to a pool of muck that she clocked as the leavings of a Moloch. Reaching out to touch only confirmed as much, her dominant hand stained with it. The wand was at her side, shining in the shadows. Rubbing at her aching neck, Rose picked it up and tucked it safely in the nothingness space. She would likely need it later, but Rose didn’t quite trust waving a wand around without serious need.

She recognized this place—the stone floors, the boxes stacked high, the windows that were nearly unreachable. Rose was back in the warehouse where this had all begun. Disgruntled, she stood and brushed off her hands and jean shorts. There was no sign of movement, but Rose could hear voices coming from the back room.

As quietly as she could, Rose tip toed up to the doorway and strained her ears to hear. Her mouth spread in a smile as she caught Kandomere cursing a blue streak. She could just picture him, fire in his eyes, teeth bared, fiercely angry.

“I’ve never had bait that was so indignant about being caught,” came a laughing voice.

Roman.

“Its not me you have to worry about,” Kandomere jeered, “When my wife gets here, you’ll be lucky if she leaves you alive.”

She was so proud of him. It really warmed her heart that he was so confident in her, and that knew her well enough to be able to tell that she probably wouldn’t let it go—that she would take care of it.

Figuring that now was as good a time as any, Rose squared her shoulders and strode into the room, “You’re probably right.”

Roman, looking a little bit surprised, whipped around to face her from where he was leaning over Kandomere. Her husband was on his knees, his hands held together with a zip tie. A few feet away stood the Moloch.

Around all three was something Rose should have expected. Roman had drawn a decently powerful protective circle in what she suspected was blood. Whose blood, Rose didn’t have the bandwidth to think about.

“You’re right on time!” Roman crowed. “My little girl who got away.”

She frowned at him, “Listen, I’m tired, I’m angry, and I’m about three seconds from a complete breakdown. If you don’t want to be collateral damage in the wake of that, let him go and step out of the circle.”

He laughed, which she expected. What she didn’t expect was for him to toss out what could only be considered a warning shot. A ball of energy shot out of his hand, whizzing past her face. She ducked more out of reflex than any defensive strategy, reaching almost automatically for the wand.

“Oh, we’re resulting to that already?” Roman asked, his voice rising in tone, volume and intensity, “I’m down.”

One foot stepping back into a defensive position, Rose held the wand in front of her. Roman was also suddenly holding his wand, though he looked rather relaxed, his hands at his side, shoulders down.

“You know what?” Roman chirped with a click of his tongue, “I have a better idea. Moloch?”

The Moloch, which had been still and silent up until that moment, stepped forward.

“Ah, fuck!” Rose shouted, her eyes wide.

“Rose, watch out!” Kandomere yelled, trying to ambled forward on his knees.

Roman kicked out, knocking Kandomere on his side. Rose just barely caught him rolling out of the protection circle when her attention was completely diverted by the oncoming Moloch. She didn’t have any hope of physically taking the thing on, and knowing that Vivian was somehow inside the skeletal body only made it worse.

Without the wand made from Vivian’s bones, Rose couldn’t do as she had done with Hamish. Out of desperation, she flung a cutting spell at it, her stomach dropping as the Moloch’s body separated into two halves around the magic, coming together in a wash of smoke.

Gritting her teeth, she stumbled away, trying to put distance between herself and it, blinking away the burn of tears.

The spell.

Rose remembered the words she’d memorized all those weeks ago, remembered reviewing them in her head over and over. Breathing hard, she leveled a glare at the Moloch. If it could work for Roman, it would work for Vivian.

Her voice, already cracking from screaming in the basement of the estate, came out rough and high as she yelled the spell. Her hand shook as she pointed the wand at it, but the magic she wielded was strong and as powerful as it had ever been. Deliberately, she touched the tip of the wand with her hand, pressing the Moloch’s slime into it.

The Moloch, at first, didn’t react much outside of slowing at the sound of her screeching. It’s shoulders canted down, preparing to rush her, and then the smoky outline of its body seemed to glitch with an audible sizzle. Encouraged, Rose kept going.

The color, or the absence of it, seemed to melt away, leaving a graying husk that grew more and more fragile. Its legs cracked, as if it were unable to support its own weight. Flakes of skin and bones wafted around it like ash. The light in its eyes began to fade.

“I’m so sorry, Vivian,” Rose muttered, and flicked the wand in a killing strike.

The Moloch—Vivian—simply wasn’t there anymore, had winked out of existence in a fraction of a second. Rose stared at the empty space where it had been, both shocked and relieved that the spell had worked.

A harsh laugh cut off her surprise. She looked up to find Roman holding Kandomere at wand-point. The tip gleamed with potential violence, and Rose found that she couldn’t even draw breath as she waited for whatever he decided to do.

“I think I’ve had enough of this,” Roman announced, “Put the wand down.”

Both hands up, Rose did as he asked, though she purposefully didn’t set the wand on the floor. Instead, she began to tuck it into the nothingness space.

Roman’s brows lifted, “A handy little tool. I wish I didn’t have to kill you, I’d love to know how you did it. But, reality being what it is…”

He struck out without warning, blinding power shooting out towards her husband. Rose cried out soundlessly, her knees buckling even as her eyes closed against the sight. It took strong will to open them again, when the light of Roman’s magic had faded.

Kandomere was still standing—or, rather, kneeling. Alive.

At his knees, a hastily drawn protection symbol burned, the smell of grease scenting the air. Rose eyed the pencil in his hand, smiling as she recognized her own handiwork style of writing in the swirl of blackened cement.

Rose took advantage of his moment of surprise, wrapping fingers that were still in the nothingness around the little jar of his blood.

“I love a surprise!” Roman said with glee, a wide smile cracking across his face, “Let’s try that again. Only, this time, with a bit more force.”

Two steps, and the point of the wand was an inch from Kandomere’s face. Rose knew that she had to act fast. She flipped open the jar and barked out a sound meant to distract. Roman’s face turned as she once more pointed her wand at him.

The spell was out of his mouth maybe half a second later, but Kandomere had already gotten his feet underneath him, his bound hands looping over Roman’s wand arm and jerking it down. In the same motion, Kandomere gripped Roman’s wrist to keep him from aiming at Rose.

She spoke quickly, trying to work her way through the spell before Roman could get a decent shot in. The two of them wrestled for the upper hand as she wiped Roman’s blood on the tip of the wand, her mouth moving as fast as the power flowing in her veins.

Roman elbowed Kandomere in the stomach, loosing the elf’s hold on him. She could see his body begin losing color, knew that it was only a matter of seconds. It was precious time that she did not have. Roman shoved the wand into Kandomere’s shoulder, the tip sinking in an inch or so.

While the damage from the wound would be negligible, the sight of a wand touching the person she loved most forced her to stop. Kandomere might have latent magical power, but she’d never seen him work magic.

Time held still.

Rose held still.

Kandomere held still.

Roman yelled out in frustration.

The object of his aggression didn’t crumble into dust at his feet, as was so common when people touched wands. Rose wouldn’t be breathing in bits of her husband as she worked to finish of the other bright.

He was standing, his teeth bared, eyes like slits across his face, “Finish it, Rose!”

She did. Rose widened her stance and completed Marcella’s spell, watching in satisfaction as Roman jerked and shuddered, his body breaking down. He sank to his knees, his face a mask of stupefaction. The wand in his hand clinked as it fell to the floor.

And then he was gone. Just, not there anymore.

Several heartbeats passed as Rose took in the fact that they had won. Roman was gone. Both of them were safe.

Kandomere lifted both arms and snapped them down, breaking the zip tie. He flung it to the floor, moving quickly to her side and pulling her into a tight hug.

Rose buried her face in his chest, finally allowing herself to cry, “Don’t do that again. Don’t scare me like that.”

He laughed softly, “How about we both don’t do that again.”

Lifting her face to look at him, she replied, “Deal.”

Kandomere leaned down and kissed her. It was a kiss with no finesse, a kiss of relief, a kiss that celebrated the fact that they were still alive.

Her cell phone vibrated from where she’d tucked it into her bra. Reluctantly, she separated herself from him and pulled it out, tapping the screen.

“Ulysses is coming.”

She looked around at the room. Although there were no bodies to be found, there was clear damage to the structure of the building, clear use of magic and wands. Roman’s was still laying near the protection circle, glowing faintly.

“How are we going to explain this?”

Kandomere followed her gaze, “We’ll cover it up. There won’t be any questions.”

Rose looked up at him with a narrowed gaze, “You can do that?”

One side of his mouth lifted, “We’re the government, Rose. Its what we do.”

#A Thing Most Desired #Magic #Bright #Kandomere #Soulmate AU #edgar ramirez

[siriuscatbennett]

The First Avenger info dump because I can

Enlistment/Dog Tags/Awards:

It is canon that Bucky Barnes enlisted on his own right after Pearl Harbor (and Steve tried). This would make his dog tags a type two. His service number would start with a 1 (enlisted army soldier) and a 2 (from New York). This site can be used to generate dog tag numbers (I haven’t tried all the functions, but be aware the O for officers is a 0 starting in 1942). 

During WW2 (amongst other times), there was the Regular Army and the Army of the United States (which no longer exists). Voluntary enlisted men were in the Regular, with draftees in the other (officers were often part of both and had two separate ranks). If you choose to divert from canon and make Bucky a draftee (I personally have always liked this fanon because I’m evil), his service number would start with 32 (drafted, New York). This would also better explain why Bucky rises to the rank of Sergeant so quickly as promotions happened constantly in the AUS ( Dwight D. Eisenhower rose from a colonel to five-star general in three years). 

Steve would have a different type of dog tags than Bucky (including a different chain). He would have a type three (as would anyone between July 20, 1943 and March 31, 1944). I will illustrate the differences below with the custom tags I made for Steve's sister and Bucky in my fanfic (feel free to use the info from them). The N and 7 in her tag are for nurse.

The T42 you’ll see below is the year tetanus shots were recieved. I’ve seen some with two years and some with one. The B is blood type and the P is religion. 

Steve received an award for rescuing the POWs. Seeing as this wasn’t presented by the president, I’ve decided it was the Distinguished Service Cross. This award comes with a $2 pay raise; as a Captain, Steve previously made $200 a month, paid monthly (post-serum). Bucky made $78 as a Sergeant, with a $3.90 pay raise after 3 years of service (December 1944). Steve also obtained SSR pins after joining them (and I believe the Howling Commandos should have as well). (Even though nurses had the rank of an officer, they didn’t get equal pay until after WW2. They earned $70 a month for the first 3 years.)

Many soldiers put their second dog tag in their boot, usually slipped on the shoe laces in between the tongue and top of the shoe.

Not a fact, but I will add a link here to a website where you can either buy Bucky/Steve’s dogtags or make custom ones for $10 (personally, I would advocate for the custom as Bucky’s say he’s not from NY and show he is a draftee. Also, he has type B blood, not O. And Steve is Protestant, not Catholic. The site also states officer’s service numbers didn’t start with 9, but those with special duties did. His service number would most like be between 800000 and 999999, starting with a 0- to show he’s an officer).

Sister: Margaret E Rogers N-724669 T42 B                         P

Bucky: James B Barnes 12831412 T42 B Margaret Rogers (next of kin) 1404 Alameda Ave (next of kin address) Brooklyn NY     P (address, religion)

Italian Front:

Seeing as the 107th were venturing to England in June 1943, they most likely headed straight to Sicily from there (or diverged if they had fuel) to aid in the invasion, continuing into the invasion of the mainland before pushing troops back toward Austria. Italy surrendered at the very beginning of the invasion of the mainland, so the Allies only fought Nazis and Italian soldiers loyal to Mussolini (National Republican Army), who was arrested during the invasion of Sicily and broken out during the mainland invasion. Seeing as Chester Phillips and Peggy were with Steve, they must have joined the 107th later. In my canon, they (and Howard) join at the beginning of the mainland invasion. 

AM-lira (Allied-Military Currency), 100 "am-lire" for a U.S. dollar, was the currency specifically put into circulation for Allied Military after the landing in Sicily. It was used interchangeably with their normal currency. Once the Howling Commandoes join the SSR, they use British currency. 

The 107th’s camp pre-Battle of Azzano was most likely behind the  Volturno Line. Azzano is part of Umbria, which was about 170 miles into enemy territory. 

Post-Azzano, the camp was most likely behind the Barbara Line. Walking approx 533 miles from Kreuzberg, Austria, with troops alternating resting periods in the trucks, walking approximately 42 miles for 12 hours a day, they would reach camp in thirteen days.

Random:

Steve’s canon address according to Avengers is 1404 Alameda Ave. Brooklyn, NY 11362. This is a Queens zip code. I changed it to 11237.

As a Sergeant, Bucky would command a squad of 12 soldiers (privates), split into 3 fireteams. He was also assigned a PFC (one of the scout riflemen) as an assistant; this soldier could serve as either the squad leader's messenger to the platoon commander or could be used to relay orders to other squad teams, as needed. Sergeants are responsible for the individual training, personal appearance and cleanliness of their soldiers, and are expected to set a standard for lower-ranked soldiers to live up to.

Women did have their own army sect for part of the war (Women’s Army Corps) but they didn’t go overseas as they didn’t legally get benefits overseas {I didn’t read a lot on this, take this with a grain of salt}. They did all the non-fighting jobs like listening to radio transmissions and fixing weapons. 

On the ship, there were three-tier bunks. Enlisted men got footlockers under their beds (you could lift up the base), while officers got standing lockers. I would assume water on ships was cold, filtered from the ocean, and they had showers.

Showers were available but not popular at this time, just like hot water heaters. Many people still boiled water to take baths. People also didn’t bathe as often and there was only one kind of shampoo and no conditioner. Women made their own concoctions, used soap, or straight up would do egg masks. Hair was kept clean by doing the “100 strokes” with a hairbrush that was cleaned after every use. Indoor heating also wasn’t used everywhere, leaving many places still using things like fireplaces and wood stoves.

Soldiers used latrines in WW2. They also used a bucket of water and a bar of soap to wash. When water was unavailable and snow was, it was melted and used. They could also simply use things like rivers and lakes if available but if unnecessary, weren't used as lice was prevalent along with disease. Clothes weren't washed often (depending on the situation, some men went weeks without washing their uniform, only changing into dry socks when necessary) but when they were, they were boiled in big pots of water in mass and hung on a line to dry (there were also other ways, but I preferred this one). They carried an extra shirt, socks and laces, water canteen, ammunition, a spade, grenades, a gas mask, food rations, a cup, a wash kit (toothpaste, razor, comb, etc), first aid pouch, and a helmet (usually on their head) in their haversack's/on their belt (and rations, of couse). There was also a tent pack, but most soldiers would simply carry a raincoat. Lots of candles and oil lanterns to light the night. Canvas water bags – also known as Lister bags – were hung around camps and used for dispensing drinking water in which a dose of chlorine was added for purification.

Medical:

Morbidity from such diseases as tuberculosis (anti-tuberculosis agents didn’t begin to appear until 1949), rheumatic fever, typhus, dysentery, and malaria were high. There were tuberculosis quarantine wards separate from the other patients and were eventually evacuated. Frostbite was also common during the cold. Hepatitis A and B were also prevalent. Trench foot was also common, sometimes leading to jungle rot (often referred to as 'the creeping cruds'). PTSD was known then as 'battle fatigue'; men showcasing symptoms were often just given rest and food near the front lines and would normally rejoin the fight in a few days or were evacuated if necessary. All soldiers were vaccinated against tetanus, typhoid, smallpox, cholera, and yellow fever before shipping out. Dental hygiene was extremely important and many field hospitals were equipped with dental prosthetics. 

Food:

A-Rations referred to fresh/refrigerated meats, bread, and vegetables, prepared in mess halls. These meals were basically the same as C-rations, but fresh and always warm.

C-Rations consisted of one M-unit (12 oz can, meat), one B-unit (12 oz can, bread/dessert), and an accessory pack. Each daily ration consisted of three M-units, three B-units, and three accessory packs (one for each meal). The cans were made of tinplate. The cans had a gold lacquer finish. C-rations can be eaten cold or hot and were cooked with a Coleman's pocket stove (which was made specifically for WW2 soldiers).

M-units initially had three kinds: meat and beans, meat and potato hash, and meat and vegetable stew. In 1943, meat and spaghetti in tomato sauce was added; along with meat and noodles, pork and rice, frankfurters and beans, and chicken & vegetables in 1944. 1944 also brought a chopped ham, egg, & potato unit and compressed cereal B-units to replace meat & vegetable hash.

B-units contained crackers, three sugar tablets, loose candy (Brach's chocolate caramels, candy-coated peanuts/raisins, Charms hard candy), and a packet/small can of beverage mix (instant coffee, powdered lemon drink, or bouillon soup powder). Orange drink powder was added in 1944. Due to spoilage, the loose candy was replaced in 1944 with a Brach's fudge disk or a Jim dandy.

Accessory packs (brown butcher paper) contained sugar tablets, water purification tablets, a flat wooden spoon, a piece of candy-coated chewing gum, three 3-packs or one 9-pack of cigarettes, a book of 20 moisture resistant matches, a paper-wrapped P-38 can opener (with instructions that everyone immediately throws out), and about 22.5 sheets of toilet paper. Cigarette brands included Camel, Chelsea, Chesterfield, Craven A-Brand, Lucky Strike, Old Gold, Philip Morris, Player's, Raleigh, and Wings (these were traded constantly). Can openers were meant to be disposable but soldiers wore them on their dog tags for later use either with opening cans or other things (clean muddy boots, screw screws, open letters, strip wires, trim loose thread, and sharpen pencils). 

Seriously. They really gave every single soldier three can openers a day. With printed instructions. During metal rationing. Of which soldiers just put them on thier dog tag chains for later use. Where did all these excess can openers go? And why half a sheet of toilet paper? 

Clothes:

The nurses wore an olive drab service jacket and skirt (they are seen in pants as well) and cap, khaki shirt and tie, and brown shoes (wore nursing shoes or boots). The rank insignia (a single gold bar for second lieutenants, the vast majority of nurses) was worn on the epaulets. A gold "U.S." pin was worn on each collar, and a gold caduceus with a red N was worn on each lapel. Whenever the service jacket wasn't worn, the rank insignia was pinned to the right collar, the caduceus on the left.

Soldier’s field uniforms looked like this (with some adjustments based on gun used). And yes, the leggings are neccessary, they helped keep feet dry: 

The layout I made for Steve’s apartment (there are 2 beds and dressers in the spare room because Bucky lives there too, feel free to change this):

These aren’t all the links I used, because I’ve gone through a lot, like a lot, but here are the ones I saved that are relevant (I don’t like using wiki but I cross-checked any info stated above):

https://www.google.com/amp/s/screenrant.com/winter-soldier-mcu-complete-timeline-bucky-barnes/amp/ https://movies.stackexchange.com/questions/65170/how-did-bucky-get-the-rank-of-sergeant https://marvel-movies.fandom.com/wiki/Steven_Rogers https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_campaign_(World_War_II) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allied_invasion_of_Sicily https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allied_invasion_of_Italy https://history.amedd.army.mil/booksdocs/wwii/medsvcsinmedtrnmnrthrtrs/chapter6.htm https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squad https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/4j8zos/pay_of_american_gis_during_world_war_ii/ https://blogs.stockton.edu/womeninwwtwo/womens-military-involvemnt/womens-nurse-corps/#:~:text=The%20pay%20of%20members%20in,per%20month%E2%80%9D%20(2). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Service_number_(United_States_Army) https://www.med-dept.com/articles/u-s-army-ww2-dog-tags/

Find me on Wattpad here where all of this information and more will be compiled in a Bucky Barnes series with mediocre writing (coming soon). 

#WW2 #MCU #captain america #bucky barnes #bucky #barnes #info dump #canon #fanon #fanfic #writing #marvel #the first avenger #yes I have a problem #yes I do too much research for fanfics #no I will not take criticism #enjoy #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic #ww2 nurse #nurse #ww2 facts

[pseudonympls]

I posted 703 times in 2021

205 posts created (29%)

498 posts reblogged (71%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.4 posts.

I added 426 tags in 2021

#bo burnham - 79 posts

#bo burnham fanfiction - 65 posts

#bo burnham fanfic - 59 posts

#bo burnham x reader - 57 posts

#bo burnham smut - 52 posts

#bo burnham/reader - 43 posts

#bo burnham imagine - 30 posts

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Longest Tag: 140 characters

#also when reading bo's dialogue i did that thing from zach stone where the voices got confused lmaoooo it is like 5k it's not a short onehah

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

October 31st

Bo Burnham x Reader.  AFAB Reader.

Rating: Teen

TW: alcohol, kissing. Suggestive language. Fluff, friends to lovers. Sex references. Brief nudity.

Just a lil cute bit of fluff, needed a sweet distraction while I’m writing the Sad Fic haha, hope you enjoy! Wrote the entire thing on my phone which is weird for me, so just a lil drabble :3 College Halloween AU vibes.

Word Count: 3.4k (sorry, bit too long for a drabble, can anyone shut the fuck up?)

                                                          *    *    *

His eyes caught yours over the pumpkin piñata. Devilish glances over punch laced with cheap vodka, candy corns sticking to the bottom of your red solo cup as you grabbed it off the table.

Sickly sweet, that blonde boy.

‘Don’t fear the reaper’s’ chords thrum out of the amps all lined up against the staircase. Screams of joy from the other partygoers, vampire fangs, too small witches brooms and old sheets with eye holes fly through the air in a flurry as the dance floor fills.

You see him, above the throngs of people. Towering over most of them, actually. An absent expression painted on his face, about as much effort put into his costume as you’d expect from someone looking so forlorn at a party - a black skeleton onesie.

Continue Reading

75 notes • Posted 2021-10-21 12:43:21 GMT

#4

On All Fours

Bo Burnham x Reader. AFAB Reader. She/her pronouns.  

Rating: Explicit. 

sub! Bo. Oral sex (f receiving) Vaginal sex. Orgasm denial/edging. Feet fetish. Praise kink. Established relationship.

sub! Bo is here, I hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 5.6k

                                                          *    *    * 

Another day working from home. Sipping on unintentionally cold coffee you flinch, adjusting your glasses further up your nose and leaning into your laptop on the kitchen counter. This working from home malarkey would really do your back in, you thought, taking a moment to stand up and stretch out your sore muscles from hunching over your computer screen.

A sweet reprieve from the monotony of work, you hear your boyfriend Bo opening the patio doors. 

He walks in, spring in his step, light gleaming from his blue eyes. The beard he had grown over the last few months in lockdown always caught you off guard - his clean shaven boyish face overgrown with dark blond bristles, matched his hair which he had also let grow out a little - much to your delight.

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79 notes • Posted 2021-11-09 13:15:24 GMT

#3

This blog in a picture

80 notes • Posted 2021-11-19 19:10:07 GMT

#2

The Director

Bo Burnham x Reader. Bo Burnham smut. AFAB Reader. She/her pronouns

Explicit

TW:  Degradation kink. Tiny bit of Praise kink. Dom! Bo. Nasty Bo. Vaginal sex. Unprotected sex. Anal sex. Anal play. One night stand(?) Spanking. Punishment. Creampie. Masturbation. Degrading names like s**t, w**e, b***h

Word count: 8k

(disclaimer: pls don’t put/let someone put their dick in your butt and then in their/your vagina it’s just not cool ok, this is a fic not real life lmao)

Special thanks to: rhapsody-under-pressure, persephoneburns, pharlapcartoonist, and imindthegoats for reading some excerpts, and giving me their feedback, it’s very much appreciated! :3

______

Over the course of the last couple of months, you busied yourself with work. Steadfast in the notion that once you were wrapped on this project, you could go back to your quiet little life. Taking odd jobs here and there, gaffer here, assistant set designer there. 

Invested though you were in the film industry, you’d never let it infiltrate your mind like this, let it consume your every thought. You’d flirted when working on set before, naturally, but nothing had ever before culminated in such an explosive finale. 

The first such incident could be described as benign, common courtesy even. But in the deep recess of your mind you knew, it was the beginning of something.

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113 notes • Posted 2021-10-11 21:29:55 GMT

#1

Red Flannel Shirt

Wanna preface this with if “breeding kink” or mentions of pregnancy isn’t your thing, probably don’t read :3

Inspired by Bo wearing the red and black flannel in White Women’s Instagram...with extra filth.

Bo Burnham x Reader. Bo Burnham smut. AFAB reader. She/her pronouns. 

TW: Breeding kink, established relationship. Trying to conceive. Fluff. Vaginal sex, unprotected sex (ofc) fingering, oral sex (m and f recieving) Masturbation. Creampie.

Special thanks to @discountetsyagitprop @textbookpandering and @heavesdeluxe for reading some exerpts and giving me their much valued feedback! :)

Opening the front door, placing the keys on the hook, you stepped inside your home. Even the comfort of being at home wasn’t enough, today. Heaving a deep sigh, you leave your shoes and bag at the door, and slump through the entryway to the bedroom.

You knew he was away, and would be for weeks, it was always like this. He made it absolutely clear that you were what mattered most to him, but when it came down to scheduling and press dates, you took a back-seat.

Every time he told you about leaving, you saw the sadness in his eyes, the slight anger at having to leave you behind. You would comfort him, tell him that you knew how much he loved you and that work commitments were important. You tried not to let it get to you, let the jealousy overtake your usually calm and supportive demeanour.

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166 notes • Posted 2021-10-01 22:28:17 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#so y'all are all nasty breeding kink whores like me then lmfao #no but seriously #thanks for all the love here #I do not regret coming over to botumblr after operning an Ao3 account whatsoever #best community everrrrr #tumblr 2021 year in review #or TUMBLR WRAPPED if you will aha

[whump-me-all-night-long]

Charleigh’s Doll - Acquisition

So this is a new idea that I’ve been working on for a little bit, instead of any of my current WIPs. What can I say, the creative juices flow where they flow. Anyways, I can’t say how often this will update or how consistently, but I have high-ish hopes!

Tagging some people who expressed an interest (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @cupcakes-and-pain @lave-e @killtheprotagonist 

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, referring to people as “it,” lady whumpee, lady whumper/caretaker, lines between whumper and caretaker being blurred, that’s all for this chapter I think, but please let me know if I missed anything!

---

Charleigh sighed, tapping her foot impatiently on the store floor, her eyes trailing over the items lining the shelves of the pet store. She glanced at her watch yet again before pursing her lips and nudging the girl next to her, who turned around to frown at her.

“Sorry, Charleigh!” she said lightheartedly, tossing her natural unnaturally red hair over her shoulder, sounding not very sorry at all.

Charleigh just gave a sigh before her lips turned upward into a reluctant grin. “It’s fine, Rey,” she conceded. “But if we don’t get going soon, we’re gonna miss the movie.”

Her best friend, Reyna, gave a dismissive wave of her hand, turning back to stare at the shelf in front of her. “Don’t be such a worrywart. We’ll get there in plenty of time. You’re just sad because we might miss some of the previews. And you love those.” She gave Charleigh a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Weirdo.”

Charleigh snorted a soft laugh, and was about to reply when a commotion came from the back of the store, where they kept the pets. She didn’t know what made her do it, but she left Reyna behind in the accessories section staring at the selection of toys in front of her with nothing but a wave and followed the noises.

She pulled up short at what she saw when she reached the area. She’d never been a big pet person - never seen the appeal, quite frankly, or had the time - but taking in the pets lining the back wall in their cages, the rather poor, uncomfortable conditions they were kept in, her mouth twisted into a grimace. She dragged her eyes over the scene in front of her, brows raising in surprise.

Two store employees were struggling to drag a sobbing pet towards an empty cage. The pet, young with long dark hair covering most of her face, was flailing about, bawling and whimpering. Charleigh had no doubt that the pet would be begging if not for the tight black muzzle secured fast around her face.

A few other shoppers had stopped to watch the scene, and one, a middle aged woman with a bleach blonde bob, leaned over to loudly whisper to Charleigh, “God, don’t they know how to make pets behave anymore. If my pet acted like that in public..” She trailed off with a distasteful look on her face before shaking her head and walking away. Charleigh couldn’t help but feel bad for that woman’s pet.

Slowly, the small crowd dispersed, until all but Charleigh were gone. One of the employees, a young woman about Charleigh’s age, glanced up and made an apologetic expression towards her, before soundly slapping the pet, who froze, a hand drifting up to clutch her cheek. 

Charleigh winced slightly in sympathy, craning her neck to see the pet through all the hair.  

“That’s it, pet!” the employee snapped, yanking the now-stunned pet up by her collar. “Behave yourself. Or do you want your removal date moved up?” The pet let out a broken cry at that but stopped struggling immediately.

The employees got her in the cage and fastened the door securely, leaving the pet curled up in a shaking ball as far back as she could get before turning around to leave. Charleigh caught the attention of the other one, a lanky teen boy, probably only working here as an after school job, and he moved over towards them.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, a forced smile matching his overly cheerful tone.

She gave him a small smile back, remembering her own teen years working in customer service. “Yeah, um, hi, I had a question. About that pet.”

His smile wavered for a moment before he responded. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

Her brow furrowed a bit. “What did that other employee mean, when she said ‘removal date’?” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I don’t have a pet. I’m just here with a friend.” She hitched a thumb over towards Reyna’s general direction.

The boy gave a polite nod. “Not a problem at all. Every pet has a sale value connected to them - how much they’re worth - and based on that, a removal date is issued out. If they’re not sold by that date, then they’re removed. Pets who are considered more high demand have further out dates, whereas pets considered less desirable have dates that are closer. It also depends on their health, their temperament, what company and store they’re being sold in, and if they’ve been bought before. For example-”

Charleigh cut him off, frowning slightly. “Wait, what do you mean, they’re removed?”

He looked at her like she was crazy - or just very dumb. “When a pet reaches their removal date without being bought, they’re euthanized. After that point, they’re deemed to cost more than they’re worth. It’s all very humane, of course.”

Charleigh felt sick. She pushed out, “And, um, when is that pet’s removal date?” She gestured over to the one from before, who had quieted down and simply folded up on herself.

The man gave a small shrug. “Tomorrow, after closing. That’s when removals take place.” He added with a small laugh, “Of course, it might be removed tonight, after all the trouble it’s caused. Nothing but a problem since we got it. It is a used pet, after all. Not the first time we’ve removed ‘em before we’re supposed to. Especially with the troublemakers.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink before moving on to help another customer.

Charleigh stood there for a moment, feeling the ground sway underneath her. She thought she might be sick. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she had moved over to the cage where the pet had been shoved in.

Tapping softly on the glass, she tried to get the pet’s attention, but it was as if the pet had left her body, staring blank, glassy green eyes through the hair still hanging in front of the majority of her face. Seeing the thin piece of paper hanging from the cage, Charleigh grabbed it and skimmed over the information.

It listed her height, weight, hair color, eye color, all the details about her that a potential owner might like to know. Charleigh’s eyes widened at the age. 22. That was only three years younger than herself or Reyna. Swallowing down her disgust, she continued reading. 

Temperament: Unruly unless strict discipline is shown. 

Charleigh gave the pet a quick once-over, finding it hard to reconcile the terrified, softly whimpering girl in front of her with the one the employee and booklet painted.

Charleigh’s lips parted and she murmured softly, “Hey there. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you turn around for me, please?” The pet stiffened, before reluctantly shifting herself so that she was facing Charleigh.

She reached through the thin, widely spaced bars of the cage to place two fingers underneath the pet’s chin. Lifting the pet’s head, Charleigh couldn’t contain the gasp as she saw the pet’s face, subconsciously raising a hand to her own cheek.

The pet was extremely pretty - or, she would’ve been, if not for the jagged scar going down the left side of her face, from the top of her hairline, through the far corner of her eye and ending at the edge of her mouth. It was if someone had taken a knife to her face and yanked it down as roughly as they could. Charleigh leaned back slightly, her other hand going to cover her mouth. The pet’s big green eyes watched her warily, tracking every movement. 

Her otherwise flawless pale skin spoke of a pet that had been otherwise well cared for, if a bit sun-deprived. Charleigh forced herself to look down the rest of her body and, while she couldn’t see any other visible marks, she did note that the pet seemed unhealthily thin.

“Oh my,” Charleigh whispered. “What happened to you?” 

The pet seemed to pull back from that, as if expecting to get hit. Charleigh winced at her words, realizing how they probably sounded to the pet. She pulled the informational booklet towards her again and continued reading, a half-thought pushing into her head that she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet.

She caught note of the words facial disfigurement and grimaced before continuing searching for what she was looking for. The price was listed at the very bottom of the sheet, in bolded print. 

Charleigh sucked in a breath, at once surprised at both how expensive and relatively inexpensive the pet was. Most pets, she knew, were sold for tens - or even hundreds - of thousands of dollars. This one was only a few thousand. Only, she scoffed at herself. 

The thought, the one she didn’t allow herself to think, kept poking at her, and she just stared at the pet until a hand dropped on her shoulder, snapping her out of it. 

She glanced up to find Reyna standing above her. “Hey, Charleigh, I’ve got what I need. Wanna head out now?” she said, lifting a plastic bag, before glancing at the pet with raised brows. “What is that?”

Charleigh shrugged, dropping the paper and standing. “Nothing. I was just looking at something.” She hesitated before taking a step away. “Anyways, you’re right. We don’t want to miss our movie.” 

Yet, as she tried to move, she found that she kept staring back at that pet, still curled up and watching her mournfully, with eyes both too old and too young. Reyna let out a big sigh. “You keep staring at that pet. You’re not seriously considering…?” She trailed off, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

Charleigh gave her a weary look. “I don’t know. She is kinda cheap. Only a couple thousand. I’ve got plenty saved up. Plus, she- her removal date is pretty close.” She gave a kind of helpless shrug, taking a tiny step back towards the cage. Then another one.

Reyna just rolled her eyes, following her back to the pet. “Fine. She is pretty cute. Except for that hideous scar. No wonder they pushed up her removal date.” Rey grinned, nudging Charleigh with her shoulder. “But for that price, it’s a steal. Plus maybe she and my Sadie girl could have pet playdates!” She laughed, and Charleigh could tell she was now thinking about her own pet at home, the one her parents had bought her as a graduation gift.

Charleigh crouched in front of the pet, reaching hand back in. “Here, girl,” she commanded softly. The pet stared at her for a moment before obediently, if a bit reluctantly, pushing her head into the hand. She scratched the pet’s scalp a bit, wondering. “Hmm, what do you think? Should I take you home?” Her hand trailed downward, brushing a finger against the large scar, before moving to cup the pet’s chin. She turned the pet’s head towards her, brushing a couple strands of the dark hair out of the way. 

The pet watched her, unreadable expressions warring across her face. But she didn’t pull away, or show any signs of disobedience or defiance that Charleigh would’ve expected from her temperament description. Instead, she seemed content to sit there, drying tears on her face, and be held by Charleigh’s hand.

Charleigh glanced up at her friend, before giving a small laugh. “Look at this face. How could I say no?”

Reyna threw her hands up in mock surrender, still grinning like a fiend. “Okay, if that’s how you wanna spend your money.”

Charleigh shrugged, flagging down an employee. She pointed towards the pet. “Hi, I’d like to buy this pet.”

#charleigh's doll #whump #whump writing #whumpee #lady whumpee #whumper #caretaker #lady whumper/caretaker #lady whump #pet whump #dehumanization #referring to people as it #blurred boundaries between whumper and caretaker #if anyone has any better description for that i'm all ears #charleigh - charleigh's doll #dollie - charleigh's doll #although she hasn't been named yet ;) #reyna - charleigh's doll #y'all this is actually the most excited i've been about some writing in a while #i promise i'll update devin's story sometime soon #but my creative juices are just not flowing for it right now #i kinda burnt myself out and the fact that i was able to finish this at all is something i'm pretty proud of #anyways yeah let me know what y'all think if this

[wildborn-witch]

“There are tales spoken in hushed whispers, beyond the ears of the Emperor’s Coven, about a tribe of witches who were bonded to spirits—mystical beings born of wild magic. An ancient race they were, said to have been the first children of the Titan when it fell. Taking the form of beasts, they had the ability to heal and speak to the Isles, calling upon its natural power. These gifts they shared with the witches, who took their name in gratitude, and together, they and their descendants settled near the Heart, wishing to live in harmony with the wilderness and their ancestor.’ 

“Centuries passed, and eventually their neighbors came to wield magic of their own, sparking a new age of discovery. In this time, the original covens were formed, each following one of nine disciplines, yet they all recognized the ancient tribe as the first masters. On their part, the tribe stayed distant from the others, though anyone willing to learn from them was welcomed among their ranks.’

“Everything changed, however, with the coming of the Savage Ages. Chaos reigned, and conflict and unrest divided the land until a new figure arose: a mysterious witch who called himself Belos. Claiming to be an emissary of the Titan, he vowed to bring unity to the Isles, insisting that unbound magic only brought disorder. One by one, the nine covens bowed to his teachings, but the ancient tribe resisted—they saw him for what he truly was, and would not give up the old ways. Their defiance led to their destruction, as Belos and his coven hunted them all down until, at last, only their chief remained. Accused of high treason, he was sentenced to petrification, frozen in stone as Belos took the title of Emperor over the Boiling Isles.’

“It has been thirty years since the tribe’s extinction, and the spirits have fallen silent, fading into myth and legend. But nothing lasts forever, for a new awakening has begun. The old ways will be found once more, and in time, the Isles will see the return of…’

To those who have followed me already on both this blog and my main account, I want to thank you all so much for your patience and continued interest as this has taken shape. To those who are here for the first time, my name is Drekasál, and I’m proud to announce the official master post and FAQ for the Wildborn AU!

I intend to update this as often as possible as I continue to work on new pieces—both artistic and literary—as well as answer whatever questions that may come up in the future, but for now, I figure the basics would be good to start with, first and foremost being…

What is the Wildborn AU?

The Wildborn AU is my personal contribution to The Owl House fandom, centering around my witchsona Tristan O’Connor who is its main protagonist. Taking place after the events of Season 1, it explores my own take on the history of magic on the Isles by introducing the Wildborn—a tribe of ancient witches bonded to powerful spirits of the same name.

Lore

Originating from days long before the Savage Ages, the Wildborn came into being when the Titan first fell, and hold great power over the Isles’ primordial forces. Reflecting their wild natures, their spiritual forms take on the form of beasts, both mythical and mundane.

In the past, the spirits had a rocky relationship with the early witches, whom had not evolved bile-sacs yet and thus relied on harnessing the wild magic of the Isles through glyphs. At some point in history, however, a young witch from an ancient tribe formed a Bond with the Thunderbird, the first of the spirits and their guardian. After that, the two groups grew closer, with more witches and spirits  forming Bonds with each other, eventually becoming the Wildborn tribe. Harnessing the power of their spirits, the Wildborn witches did not need to rely on glyphs, and those pairs who developed strong Bonds could Merge to become a new being, a reflection of the spirit’s beast form combined with the traits of their witch.

Regarded as the first masters of wild magic, the tribe was well-respected for centuries, even as other witches eventually evolved bile-sacs and formed the original covens. Tragically, that came to an end during the Savage Ages, which saw the appearance of Emperor Belos and his enforcement of the coven system. Seeing the Wildborn as untamable and a threat to his teachings, he ordered for their persecution, hunting them down and forbidding any mention of them, until at last it seemed they had been wiped out. But the tales still persist, and the spirits live on, waiting for the day their Guardian will return, and restore balance to the Isles...

Inspiration

This AU draws inspiration from both Wolfwalkers and Brother Bear, both of which are beautifully animated movies, but the latter especially I consider a criminally underrated Disney movie. Wolfwalkers mainly inspired the Hellhounds, the secondary group of characters in the AU, but both movies played a part in developing the Wildborn themselves, particularly their powers and portrayal as animal spirits.

The Characters

Tristan O’Connor - Protagonist in the Wildborn AU. He is a faun witchling enrolled in the Beast Keeping tract at Hexside School of Magic and Demonics. Shy yet kind, he has a deep love of nature and the wild, though it is a passion he has been forced to curb up until now due to the rigidity of the coven system. It is revealed later on that he is Bonded to the spirit Anam, making him the first living Wildborn to exist in thirty years.

Aedh - Deuteragonist in the Wildborn AU. He is a member of the Hellhounds, a pack of wolf-like fire elementals who live hidden beneath the Titan’s skull. Daring and adventurous, he doesn’t have the same bitterness against witches like his elders, having not been born during the time of their persecution, and he welcomes Tristan warmly as a friend. He proves vital in helping the witchling adjust to his Wildborn powers, teaching him how to be a Hellhound when he is Merged with Anam.

Anam - Tritagonist in the Wildborn AU. He is Tristan’s Wildborn spirit, originally being the soul of a Hellhound pup born with “too little fire”. As the AU progresses, it is discovered that he is Aedh’s younger brother and littermate, thus making Tristan, through his Bond with Anam, Aedh’s spiritual brother and and a member of the pack.

Tuft - Supporting character in the Wildborn AU. He is Tristan’s pet griffin, getting his name from his tufted ears uncommon to his kind. A frequent companion of the witchling, he is fiercely loyal and protective, accompanying him on his adventures in the wilderness.

Eleri O’Connor - Supporting character in the Wildborn AU. She is Tristan’s mother and a member of Bard Coven, stated to be well-respected as a master of her craft. She is shown to be a caring and loving parent, though she constantly worries about her son, partly due to her frequent absence in the household, as well as her fear that Tristan might never fit in and suffer for it. Although she is Adar’s daughter, she is not Wildborn herself, having never Bonded with a spirit.

Adar O’Connor/The Thunderbird - Supporting character(s) in the Wildborn AU. Adar O’Connor is Eleri’s father and Tristan’s grandfather, and was the last great chief Bonded to the Thunderbird before the extinction of the Wildborn tribe. When Adar was sentenced to petrification, the Thunderbird permanently Merged with him to save his life, and they act as guides to Tristan and his allies as the AU unfolds.

Arduinna “Rina” Ward - TBA

Arwain the Seeress - TBA

This list will be updated as new characters are developed and added!

Are the main cast of The Owl House involved?

Yes, actually! Their roles are still being developed, but I do intend for Luz to play an important part in this AU, given her rediscovery and usage of glyph magic, and she becomes one of Tristan’s close allies. Eleri herself has had interactions/relationships with Eda and Lilith in the past, when they were attending Hexside together as teenagers.

Is this an open AU? (Can anyone participate/make connections?)

I definitely wish for the Wildborn AU to be as open-ended as possible, as I love making potential connections with the stories/characters of other creators in the fandom. Fair warning, however, that this AU is still in constant development, so things are liable to change! Don’t be afraid to reach out if you have ideas you want to run by me!

Is fanart/fan fiction allowed?

Y E S. Fanworks are 1001% allowed and would honestly make me the happiest person ever ;;V;;

Master List

Eye of the Storm - Lore of the Thunderbird.

No Mercy - Hellhound lore

Reassurance - Aedh welcomes Tristan

Locked or Free - 100+ follower Instagram DTIYS

One Being - Tristan describes the Merge

Dumb Animal - Tristan and Aedh encounter Boscha’s gang at the Knee

Tristan’s Beast Form - Reference sheet

Forces of Nature - Wildborn lore

The Thunderbird - Official model sheet

Adar Concept Art

Hellhound Reference

The Last Wildborn - Official banner

Healing - Gift art/animation for @sobsinfrench​

«—•—»

If you have any more questions for me, don’t be afraid to submit an ask, and my inbox is open if you want to reach out to me directly! I also post artwork and occasional updates to my main blog @drekasal​, so be sure to follow me there as well! Thank you all so much for reading through this, and have a wonderful day!

#the owl house #the owl house au #au #the owl house art #the owl house fanart #fanart #toh #lore #master post #master list #faq #frequently asked questions #Wildborn AU #drekasal #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #toh edalyn #eda the owl lady #lilith clawthorne #emperor belos #the owl house oc #toh ocs #witch ocs #witchsonas #alternate universe

[nobody-knose--archive]

finally got around to listening to sketches 3d today and man! man! oh boy! liveblog under the cut!

-piano. exactly what i was expecting

-vibrato huh

-ayyy that's some. funky percussion

-this is like the fullerenes or something. a song about an Interesting Lady

-and there's that one grainy string synth/sample that andrew uses a lot & also appears in hawaii part ii

-more percussion. this is so cool

-i wasn't expecting this to be quite so minor key

-man if that was courtney on the flute there i think that'd be sick

-sing it andrew!

-i'm already having a more cheery time than i did with nat

-zubin???

-i will absolutely have to review that voice

-wait what the fuck is happening to her

-darling you good?

-anyway. classic andrew horowitz funky out-of-tune synths

-rattle rattle

-more out of tune piano. what song is this

-oh shit!!! this is the song my friends like

-tambourine <3

-you & me? sides of a coin? good & evil?

-so weird hearing all these lyrics i've seen in the song channel sung aloud for real

-andrew is doing some good singing here. he's good at carrying the melody on his own even though i've not heard much of that from him in the past save fate of the stars maybe

-he's always been good at that percussion

-all different types of percussion. tinny little gong like it's the whole world & you acoustic

-tambourine <3 <3

-so incredibly weird knowing what the lyrics are going to be without knowing what the song sounds like. i know how these words go in order but don't know how the melody carries them

-interesting thing about sketches so far. it's very strong & powerful but it doesn't block out the world like other new songs will. i'm not being taken somewhere else it's more like the whole rest of the world is being highlighted

-alright what's next?

-7/4 hummingbird????? or is this 6/4???

-no no no it's 5/4 and doing funky things with the onbeat i love this

-asking questions to a little creature is the best kind of pasttime and i mean that

-man andrew mixed this really well he's just. incredible at that

-he's making each song distnict while also giving sketches a clear theme

-a minor turn. i like that

-now what could this be?

-not lemons & pears yet?

-daisy fingers hell yes

-another song about a lady

-spoke mostly harmony oh you clever man

-thank you andrew for doing more with time signatures than tally hall ever did. first 5/4 and now 6/8

-the combination of very out of tune & rough percussions and incredibly beep bloopy synths is so cool

-conversations with a lady. this feels like a story of andrew visiting another world and being like "might as well write some songs about the fellows and stories round here"

-the whole album, i mean

-i am inspired by you, andrew

-this whole album is everything i could've hoped for and more

-the interesting thing about it is how few questions i find myself asking. i'm just looking at this stuff i have and being like wow! &, cool! not what i usually do with new albums

-divine inspiration bay be

-that's like. the opposite of an 80s fadeout

-oh that is absolutely the little sfx from the beginning of perfect at the end

-wait speaking of at the end

-no this is have a nice day interludinal

-is this a polyrhythm? there's a 4/4 type thing in the background and the foreground is. not on the onbeat i can say that much

-man i am going to have a nice day

-he's a good musician, able to make so much music out of a single interval

-lemons & pears!!!!

-toy orchestra my beloved that's the fuckin toy piano bay be wooooo

-but man oh boy does this sound absolutely different with only a one single guy singing

-ukulele in the bg? toy orchestra <3

-interesting being able to actually hear like. all of the lyrics for real

-some of the little riffs are gone and there are quite a many more

-hello?

-oh okay

-yeah i heard about the fucking gunshots that doesn't mean i was prepared for them

-the chorus sounds so nice i love this

-guest vocals?????????? whomst????????????

-who is this lady i'm so curious is she from the old toy orchestra? that'd be amazing

-breakdown time and it sounds so similar to the toy orchestra one. man

-at the end is. not the end of the album

-i think the thing that's getting me and not prompting as many questions is the fact that like. i hear these songs and hear tally hall songs. andrew's singing & i could hear this on a tally hall album with ease. it's strange

-i think the hi-hat and other little bits in this song, for example, reminds me of ross

-andrew's always tried hard at rock, and percussion is a massive part of that-wait he's scat singing i can finish that thought later i love this

-his songs are also very easy to sing along to without meaning to. first time hearing them and here i go

-anyway percussion is a massive part of rock, andy's always had an affinity for percussion, i think that's what's making me think of tally hall so much, or at least be. comfortably experiencing this in the same way i would a tally hall album

-i can't say the same of hawaii part ii

-if there's anywhere that lists the credits somewhere i'd like to see if ross worked on this at all but. i'm pretty sure he didn't

-where am i-oh shit a crowd

-nowhere else this is a song i think i know nothing about

-all that shit i was saying about rock percussion and now there's a whole entire drumkit going here

-alrighty

-that is not only andrew singing! again! who are you

-.....casey shea?????

-you sound like casey shea sir??????

-you are either casey shea or someone else who sounds like a beatle (affectionate, instead of derogatory)

-good guitar shit

-is that a third voice or does andrew just sound like that?

-madi diaz???

-i'm probably just guessing her because of the rendezvous but. there's gotta be someone more

-a whole lot of love going on here and i do appreciate it

-is it 80's fadeout time now? hell yeah

-oh yes the rainbow connection! a cover and the final song of the album (not counting the bonus tracks, which i will be listening to)

-i think i may have heard this before? or at least the minor rendition

-stylophone?

-humming. classic move

-theremin??

-music box is also cool. i swear i won't just be commentating on the instrumence alright

-what on earth is this sample in the background. steadily getting louder

-man andrew is a great singer. the consistent double vocals/heavy vibrato suits him well

-i will assume these are samples from like. the muppets movie

-does sketches (3d or otherwise) have a pdf like hwptii & nat? i sure hope so because i will enjoy looking at it

-vocalizing again let's a go

-more gong wahoo

-bonus track time <3

-tomorrow & today is a song i know pretty damn well i hope he's more legible now

-mostly the same as the 2011 version but it certainly is updated i can tell. more echo on these beginning lines

-piano is stronger. there may or may not be some added flairs. not a whole lot blatantly changed but i can say. i'll remove the 2011 version and replace it with this one for charlie

-there's a riff in my right ear that i don't remember and i like it

-this bit right here is more legible in general thank god it was incomprehensible originally

-the stomping percussion is Goin places

-and to end the whole song- you know yesterday fueled by a listen of nat i came up with an abundance of thoughts on writing styles in tally hall and especially how andrew's songs go places and what the journey's like and while that essay really won't fit into this liveblog i really enjoy how tomorrow & today has no destination in mind and it's a gradual trip but you never look back

-such strong g&e vibes

-misfortune bay be! time to replace the other misfortune charlie has with this

-sheet music???? jenny where did you find this? [referring to the image used in the video she uploaded i listened to] also this is still not the whole song i know the original misfortune wasn't but it feels strange to start this far into the song

-chords my beloved i could fucking play this song i'm so hyped about that

-toy orchestra solid soda real <3

-the one and only studio recording toy orchestra did. this is some of the best evidence for steve gallagher's voice we have

-also the audio is higher quality than the yt upload i think

-oh a casio organ not a real organ. okay i can't complain

-i like the sound of the piano at least. also this is horrendously gorey i like it

-andrew horowitz horror writer extraordinaire

-these sound like the sorts of drum synths my electric organ has

-i actually can't tell if that one's a guest vocal or andrew just being a very very good singer

-this sounds like some sort of recording you'd take of your kid's music school performance

-oh it's over

-fuck that was good

#tally hall #shoutout to jenny yesac for uploading the version i listened to #and another shoutout to tallyall dot club for being my one-stop shop for charlie's tally hall mp3s #tis i #loolin liveblogs #i say this every time but if you want to know what the hell i'm talking about in these listen to the album as you read #and try to keep synced up as best as possible k #edu #anyway a few closing thoughts in the tags: andrew sure makes some good lengthy songs huh? less than nat but same in length #damn near all are over 3 minutes which i really appreciate. god why the hell wouldn't anyone listen to this album it's wonderful #i'm not sure if any of my guesses and questions about guest vocals & the like will be answered by anyone #but like. on that note. i have a sneaking suspicion i personally contain sketches knowledge few others have. only attained it very recently #as in like yesterday so good for me but. oh there's something to look forward to in about a month and a half #to the world and back again

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 4

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/n

Warning: language maybe?

W/c: 3.5K (sorry not sorry)

A/n: Shuri is probably one of my favourite characters in the MCU so please enjoy her sass ❤️ Thank you again to @cutie1365 for editing and making this readable 💕

You sat in the cold steel lab, next to a pile of machines that whirled in the silent room. Small wires attached to your temples and hooked into the computers. You didn't know how you imagined Shuri, but a small 16 year old girl was definitely not it. This was who was going to be prying and prodding through your brain? I guess this is how S.H.I.E.L.D felt the first day you showed up. The thought made you stifle a laugh under your breath and wish you could only remember.

Every 10 minutes after scanning the hologram which hovered just above the desk she would stop, and ask if you were okay to continue. You would nod, unable to actually create coherent words. The process of regaining your memories was excruciating, to say the least. Shuri made it better though. She was bubbly and kind. Her voice was bright and reminded you of the wind chimes your mother used to hang on the porch.

Another blast of electricity surged through your brain, causing you to double over and yelp.

"Okay, okay, that's enough for today." She announced, crossing the room and placing a hand on your shoulder. You flinched her away desperately trying to focus away the pain.

"No. Keep going." You gasped, steadying your breath.

"Y/n, we have to take this in steps. If we dig too deep we can risk serious brain damage, or worse." She explained. You looked up at her concerned face, tears welled in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away.

"Dr. Shuri, please-”

"It's Shuri. Just Shuri. And no, I’m serious. I think we've retrieved some core memories, but there's no way to be sure." She spoke over you, turning her computer off and carefully removing the wires from your head. You winced as she pulled them out, but you were finally able to breathe right again. “We’ll just have to keep tabs on ya’.”

"How will we know what I remember?" You asked, watching her pack her equipment away.

"You won't," She stated, placing a small alcohol wipe in your hand. You blotted the small incisions the wires left behind. Gross.

"But, we'll keep doing bi-weekly checkups and monitor your behavior. There could be trigger words that Hydra has hidden in your brain. The last thing we need is you going all ‘Winter Soldier’ on our asses." Shuri giggled to herself and patted you on the back. You tried to hide the scream of pain that erupted from her contact. You suppressed a cry and smiled as best you could.

"Thank you Dr- um, Shuri. Seriously, I can't tell you what this means to me." You corrected, getting up and following him out of the room.

"Anytime. This is my new specialty I guess. I think I should consider updating my resume to super soldier fixer-upper."

You walked through the compound slowly, still unsure where everything was. Steve had assigned you a bedroom on the top level, close to Agent Romanoff, or Nat as she had asked you to call her. She and a few other former Avengers occasionally stayed in Wakanda after everything went south in Nigeria.

You hadn't really been asked if you wanted to stay here, but Nat explained that Hydra was keeping close tabs on you. It would be safer for you here while you remembered what it is they needed.

As you continued through the hallways you happened upon a large floor to ceiling mirror. You tried to not look, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Your hair was a knotted mess yesterday morning, so you decided to braid it back. Now, long strands fell from it, curling around your face and neck adding to your dishevelment. Dark circles bloomed under your y/e/c and reminded you of the sleep you so desperately needed. The faded Stark Industries tee-shirt hung loosely on your frame over the black elastic biker shorts Nat had given you to borrow. She promised she'd take you back to your Brooklyn apartment at some point to collect your own clothes. You huffed, trying and failing to tuck the few strands that fell from your loose braid back, only having two more shake loose.

As you rounded the corner you noticed two large metal doors. Loud thuds and grunts were protruding out from behind them. The closer you got, the better you could see through the small window.

Nat was sending a graceful roundhouse kick to Bucky's neck. He stumbled taking a few steps back but ultimately gained his balance again. You swallowed a gasp. Bucky was close to twice Nats size. You watched in amazement as she ducked between his legs, sending a swift elbow to the crook of his knee. He immediately dropped.

Quietly you slipped through the gym door, careful not to disturb the two while they circled each other slowly.

You watched in awe as Bucky threw a punch with his metal arm at Nat, who skillfully dodged it, grabbing his wrist and twisting. With the added momentum she swung onto his shoulders, still grasping his arm and yanked him backwards onto the mat with a loud thud.

"Holy shit!" You gasped, and quickly regretted it as the two super heros looked up. You knew they were on your side, but damn. You didn't know how anyone picked a fight with either of them. They both looked so venomous. Nats face softened when she registered your wide eyed gaze.

"She lives!" The Black Widow announced, laughing as she grabbed a towel, patting her sweat slicked face. Bucky stood then slowly, watching you intently like he was waiting for something.

You grin sheepishly and nodded. "That she does. Damn, Mr. Rogers wasn't kidding around. I still feel like I'm vibrating." You chuckled.

"Remember anything?" Bucky spoke suddenly, watching you carefully. You shook your head.

"No, not really. Shuri said it'll take time. That she recovered something, but-" you huffed, a little frustrated and body still sore. "I got this wicked headache instead." You finished. Bucky chuckled and ran his metal hand through his dark hair.

"So," You began, approaching the sparring mat, "do you think you could show me how to do that?" You ask Nat, referring to her insane fighting skills. Her eyes sparkled and she laughed softly.

"I don't know Y/n," she motioned for you to step onto the mat, "think you got what it takes?"

Her dazzling grin dropped almost as fast as her fist flew through the air. You could tell instantly that the blow would miss you entirely, but in that moment something snapped. You closed your eyes and you felt your whole body burst into flames. Images flashed through your mind and when you opened your eyes, everything moved in slow motion.

You looked to your left, watching the assassin's fist fly closer and closer. You tried to take a step back, but your body seemed to switch into auto pilot. In one smooth motion you blocked her wrist, and almost as fast jabbed her side with a harsh blow.

Natasha stumbled back, stunned. You looked down at your hands, like it was the first time you were actually seeing them. Holy shit.

“Oh God, Nat. I didn't mean to!"

Another fist flew at you, to which you ducked, dropping into a squat position you kicked your right leg out. In the same motion you twisted your body, sweeping your foot across the mat and taking Nat down as she gasped. You looked up at her, eyes wide and panting. What the-

"Fuck." Bucky finished your thought. Natasha rubbed her hip in discomfort as she reached for Bucky's hand, pulling her up.

"What the hell was that?" She challenged. You stood, stumbling back a few paces and raising your hands in surrender. What the hell had just happened?

"I- I don't know..." You stuttered, "Nat, I'm so, so sorry I-'' she waved her hand stopping you.

"I'm fine, don’t ever apologise for kicking someone's ass... Maybe you remembered something after all?" She spoke, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow sarcastically.

"My turn." Bucky rumbled. You would have frozen at the darkness in his voice, but your instincts kicked in. The soldier leaned back on his right foot, sending his left rocketing through the air and towards your face. Fire erupted through your body again, startling you awake.

Gracefully you wrapped your arm around Bucky's impending kick, absorbing the blow. His sheer strength made you stumble back a little, but you quickly slid back into the routine.

"Попался” Gotcha’, you smirked. Bucky looked at you, mouth slightly agape.

“What did you just-” He didn't have a chance to finish as you twisted your body, bringing your elbow up delivering it down onto his shoulder with a loud crack. You finished him off with a swift kick through his legs, tackling him to the floor.

"Ow," he mumbled through jagged breaths. You gawked at him in disbelief, holding his hands above his head, straddling the super soldier's waist. Bucky shifted slightly, realising the compromising position you both were in.

"Gotta hand it to ya, punk. That one actually tickled." He chuckled, as you removed your hands from his wrists. He noticed your body was still unmoving, eyes almost glassy. Carefully he tapped your thigh, knocking you back into reality. You physically shook your head, trying to center yourself.

"What happened?" You asked, still straddling Bucky. He looked at you quizzically, trying to read your face for any answers, but came up short.

"Y/n, I think we need to talk to Shuri again." He offered, picking you up by the waist and helping you off the mat.

"Yeah, I think that's probably a good idea." You said, staring wide eyed at the two former assassins.

When you entered the lab, you noticed Shuri was still there. She paced around the room, picking up sheets of paper, scanning them quickly before she looked at the hologram.

"Not possible." She breathed, still unaware of your presence. Bucky cleared his throat, alerting the engineer to the three of you.

"Holy crap!" She jolted. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on a girl with an endless arsonal of deadly weapons before?" Shuri clutched her heart, steadying her breath.

"No, actually." You voiced. Buck coughed trying to cover his laugh.

"Listen, babe. It's important," Nat started, entering the lab further and hoisting her petite figure onto an examining table. "Y/n just handed Bucky his tight ass without breaking a sweat, so we were just wondering... What the fuck?" She emphasized that last word with a raised brow and wide eyes. Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes as if to say 'she hit you too.' You thought it was probably the cutest thing in the world, watching the former assassin stuff his hands into his pockets and glare at her like he was a kid.

"Y/n, how do you feel?" Shuri spoke, ignoring Natasha, which didn't bother her as she swung her legs daintily off the table.

"Um, fine I think. I'm a little tired but besides that-"

"What's happening here?" Captain America suddenly boomed, storming into the lab. You flinched, startled by his loud voice. Both Nat and Bucky look totally unfazed while Shuri only rolled her eyes. I guess Captains mood swings were a normalcy around here.

Natasha explained the situation to him while he passed the room, arms crossed and a scowl permanently glued to his face.

"How could you let this happen?" Steve finally barked, pointing an accusatory finger at Shuri. You thought if he had spoken to you like that you would melt away, but the small teen only scoffed and brushed him off.

"Hold up, Boomer. I didn't let anything happen. You brought her to me." She started, looking at you almost apologetically. "You told me to find Y/n's memories. That's what I'm doing. Unless you think you could do a better job with your zero years of education and that dinner plate you call a 'shield?'" She scoffed and went back to looking at her computer.

“You made my shield” Steve huffed under his breath.

“Uh, no. How dare you? I would never, the thing is incredibly impractical. I did make it better though.” Shuri mocked the Captain. Jeesh, the girl truly had balls, that's for sure.

"How do you feel?" Steve questioned. It took you a solid five seconds to realise he was looking at you.

"Oh, I'm fine. Yeah, I'm fine. Just really confused." You mumbled, terrified you were going to set the Super Soldier off again.

“Well I can shed some light, would that be okay with you, old man?” Shuri spoke sarcastically to Steve. He only rolled his eyes and waved his hand motioning her to carry on.

“I ran your blood through a few tests. I don't know how I didn’t see this before. I mean it's right in front of us. You failed the drug test. By like, a lot. Which I thought was weird but to each their own ya know? Anyways, I looked into it and your body is literally emanating radiation, which got me thinking. The only people I know who literally sweat steroids are-”

“She’s a Super Soldier.” Steve interrupted. You stared at him wide eyes and back to Shuri. This wasn't possible. You didn't feel super. Actually you felt pretty crappy, to say the least.

“Not exactly. At least, Y/n doesn't have the same chemical compound as you. Whatever serum she's drugged up on, it's not one I've ever seen before.” Shuri finished, holding a test tube of your blood up and analysing it. You felt like you were going to throw up. You didn't know if it was the chaos of the situation or the fun new information that past life Y/n was a steroid junky but it was enough to make you lightheaded. You stumbled back a few paces, uneasy on your feet. A strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, steading you before you could fall. You looked up at Bucky's warm smile suddenly feeling a little more at ease. Gotcha. He mouthed, and you took a deep breath. I am calm, I am okay… Just, breathe.

Ten minutes later and a bunch of arguing the room finally stilled. Shuri explained how she suspected Hydra had a weapon similar to the super-soldier serum, only more complex. The whole thing made very little sense to you.

"Why would Hydra inject me with the serum?" You argued, skeptically.

"Because, they physically couldn't make another drop. Y/n destroyed the lab with all their research. The one they gave to her was the first of its kind. It's flawed and unpredictable. Without her cooperating, recreating a serum was impossible. However, if they injected it into our friend here, they could monitor how it developed in a controlled environment." Shuri explained.

"So, you think the serum they gave me is their super secret weapon?" You asked, stunned. Shuri only nodded.

“You're the blueprint…” Bucky mumbled under his breath. You didn't know if he had meant for you to hear as no one else in the room seemed to notice he had even spoken.

"And you're sure it's in Y/n's system?" Nat asked, her eyes scanning over you.

"I mean, I guess there's only one way to know for sure. I have this…theory. I could be wrong, but I highly doubt it… Y/n, I think it's time you meet our resident teenage witch."

You followed the team into what looked they're common room. Plasma TVs hung on the walls and large floor length windows lined the room.

There sitting on the long couch was a girl. She looked to be about your age, maybe a little younger. You watched as red ribbons of electricity shot out of her hands and through the air like dangerous waves. The small tv remote hovered mid air as her red tendrils held it.

"Maximoff, front and center!" Steve announced loudly, startling the girl causing her to rocket the remote through the air. It flew past you, an inch from your face as it crumbled into the wall behind you.

"Holy shit!" You screamed, ducking as a delayed reaction and holding your hands over your head.

"Language..." Steve lectured under his breath. You mouthed a 'sorry' and stood up again.

"Didn't mean to startle you, I just have someone I'd like you to meet. He gestured towards you as her eyes followed.

"Hi." You spoke quietly. She smiled kindly and spoke apologetically, "Hi. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw electronics at you." She shrugged.

"Occupational hazard when you're around me. It's kinda' my thing." You chuckled at that.

"Perfect. Now that you've met... Wanda, will you please fight Y/n." Shuri spoke dryly. The girl, Wanda, looked from Shuri to you.

"Um, no?" You blurted looking at Shuri absolutely terrified. There was no way you were fighting this chick. She just fired a remote at your head with the ease and strength of a shotgun. Hell no.

"Please, you won't hurt her. It's for science." Shuri shrugged, but you weren't sold.

"Yeah, that's not happening. There's gotta be another way we can test your theory." You shook your head frantically. Wanda looked slightly intrigued, crawling across the couch and perching on the arm rest.

"What exactly would you have me do, Shuri?" She questioned, looking wickedly dangerous. The small engineer grinned, crossing her arms over each other.

"Do what we practiced." She cooed, dryly.

The team behind you took a few steps back. You hadn't realised they had deserted you until it was too late. Wanda created a small red blast of electricity in her palm. You watched as she shaped it like a snowball, carefully dropping it between her hands. You watched in awe as it sizzled and sparked between her fingers.

“I really, really don't like this idea.” You voiced, looking back at Steve and Shuri, who only watched in anticipation.

You turned back to face her as the energy surged towards your body. Before it could explode you crossed your arm over your face protecting yourself from its inevitable blow. But it never came.

Carefully you opened one eye, and then the other. More people now gathered in the common room. You looked around at their faces, landing on Bucky who, unlike his teammates looked horrified. You looked down at your hands then, and what you saw made you choke out a gasp.

Your whole body was glowing with the same red electricity Wanda has thrown at you. Your eyes darted up to her and she just stared at you in shock.

"What the hell is happening right now?" You yelled, terrified and feeling like your whole body was vibrating.

"Exactly what I thought would happen. You've absorbed Wanda's powers." Shuri spoke matter of fact, like this kind of thing happened every day. I guess with these people it did.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Bucky demanded. He felt powerless as he watched the Witch’s energy circled around you. You nodded, reassuringly. Though you didn't know if you believed it.

"Okay, what do I do. I don't want this-" you reached your arms out and with a bright flash of red, the electricity exploded from your hands, throwing Wanda off her seat and hurling her backwards. Quickly she caught herself mid air before she crashed through the window, hovering above the floor.

"Holy crap" She screamed, checking she was all in one piece "I sincerely apologise to anyone I've done that to. That really stings." She winced as she landed back on the ground.

"Shit, I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry!" You crossed the room, making sure she was okay.

Wanda laughed, "You sure do make a great first impression." She spoke sarcastically. You half smiled, not knowing how you could help.

"I guess that's kinda' my thing." You spoke, causing a dazzling smile to dance across Wanda's pink lips.

"This is so exciting! I’m going to run back to the lab and run a few more tests. Obviously you aren't able to control how you absorb your opponents powers. You're going to have to practice before we can try that again." Shuri spoke, tearing you away from your exchange with Wanda.

"I am not doing that again." You argued, horrified that you almost chucked Wanda out a plate glass window.

"Sure you are. Come now, science experiment, let's see what else you can do." You huffed and followed Shuri’s voice.

..…………

A/n: as always, feedback it welcomed!! Let me know what you think 💕💕💕

@projectcampbell

#bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky x steve #bucky barns imagine #bucky x y/n #marvel smut #marvel fanfic idea #marvel fanfiction #marvel #winter solider fanfiction #princess shuri #wanda maximoff