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annashadowstar · 5 months

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Mirage, Danny, and Annesa Felizima-@capturecharlesau

Crusher, Jay, Ulle, and Scottie -@jaytoons7

Amelia -@androidcharles

Brutus-@smoresthehalloweenqueen

Accordion and Violin -@bluetorchsky

Nicole -@lovelygirlnicole15

Cameron Calvin -@rarestdoge

Here’s the translation

Chapter 3: Food Thief

“ᔑ∷ᒷ ||𝙹⚍ ᓭ⚍∷ᒷ ╎ℸ ̣ ’ᓭ ᔑ ⊣𝙹𝙹↸ ╎↸ᒷᔑ?”

“∴ᒷ ↸𝙹リ’ℸ ̣ ⍑ᔑ⍊ᒷ ᔑリ|| 𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ∷ ᓵ⍑𝙹╎ᓵᒷ. ∴ᒷ リᒷᒷ↸ ⎓𝙹𝙹↸. !¡ꖎ⚍ᓭ, ||𝙹⚍’∷ᒷ ᓭℸ ̣ ╎ꖎꖎ ⊣∷𝙹∴╎リ⊣.”

“I ⋮⚍ᓭℸ ̣ ⎓ᒷᒷꖎ ʖᔑ↸ ⎓𝙹∷ ᓭℸ ̣ ᒷᔑꖎ╎リ⊣.”

“Yᒷᔑ⍑. Mᒷ ℸ ̣ 𝙹𝙹…”

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Mirage wakes up unpleasantly. Why? Danny busts into his room and calls for a meeting in 10 minutes. He did that to everyone else, making them a meeting in 6 IN THE FREAKING MORNING. Mirage walks down to the kitchen with a messing hair. He then looked around and noticed most of them looked very tired. Crusher hands Mirage a cup of coffee. “Want some?” Mirage gladly took it. “Why did you wake us up in the middle of the morning?” Mirage took a slip of his coffee. Danny sigh. “Someone stole our food again.”

Mirage almost spits his coffee. “Again?!” Danny nods. “They took only small amounts of our food and they left a note. Does anyone know how to read this?” Danny hands the note for everyone to see. Here’s what it says: gibberish. “How the heck do we read this?” Mirage asks, then everyone looks at Amelia, hoping she can translate it. Amelia's sweat drops. “Don’t look at me! I have no idea what it says. I don’t even know that language.” Amelia put her hand up as in surround. ‘But, aren’t you a android?’ Annesa asks with her sketchbook. “Not all androids know everything. They didn’t even have that language when I was awake. Plus, why can’t we do this later?”

Seems like everyone loses hope. Then their kitchen phone rings. Danny went up to pick it up while the others looked at the note the thief left behind. “Hello? This is Dan-” Danny was met by a loud yelling. “DANNY!! THIS IS BRUTUS!! I know it’s very early in the morning but please, come to our house and we will explain everything! Oh, and please bring a strange note with weird writing with you if you have any! Ok, Bye!” Brutus hangs up before Danny and says a single thing. Danny then walks back to the group, still trying to process what just happened. “Who’s that?” Mirage asks. “It’s Brutus. He wants us to come to his house with this note for some reason. Maybe he can understand this language.”

Everyone went back to their room and changed their clothes. Mirage finished changing and began to walk out of his room. This time, he didn't bring the feather with him. Mirage walks to his front door and waits for others to come. Crusher comes next. "Food thief, huh? You think you can read this?" Mirage rolled his eyes and took the paper from Crusher. He could make a few words. There's a word 'for' and 'your'. That's all Mirage could read.

"OK, we're ready. Let's go." Danny has to carry Annesa since she's too tired. Once they arrived at Accordion's house, he quickly let them in and put Annesa on Cameron's bed. "So, what's the rush and why do you call everyone here?" Jay asked, very tired, since it was early in the morning. "So, you all have this letter in your fridge with weird letters?" Everyone nods. "Well, believe it or not, those are from that lad."

Everyone rather tensed up or froze. That place is a nightmare. "How do you know?" Brutus bit his lips. "I'm the last hybrid that escapes from that place. They had been trying to teach other hybrids to speak standard galactic language." Brutus explains. "You know what they say?" Ulle asked, handing the note she had to Brutus as he took it and read it. "This one says... 'We need to live. Hope you understand...' I think I read some wrong... What does yours say, Amelia?"

Amelia looked at the note and couldn't make a single word out of it. Only a few letters. "Um... I could only make some letters. Like 's, o, y, and... that's all." Brutus could only sign. He’s the only one who knows this language. “Anyone eat breakfast yet?! I made some sandwiches. Scottie yelled in the kitchen as everyone followed. Accordion and Violin were talking about what they needed for the babies, Ulle and Nicole were hanging out, Scottie and Danny were talking about what should they make during lunch, Amelia and Annesa were having a drawing competition, Crusher and Jay were having a conversation about Jay’s magic, Cameron and Brutus were trying to figure out who wrote this letter, leaving Mirage alone, got no one to talk with.

Damn, just how much he wants to show his hybrid form. Then he clicked. When was the last time that everyone showed their hybrid form? Maybe this can keep their head away from that strange letter. “Hey, guys.” Everyone turns to Mirage. “We have a pool in our backyard. Since it’s gonna be very hot today, why not come to our house and have a little cool down?”

Everyone seems to like that idea. It will keep their mind away from the food thief for a while. "But let's eat up first before we start having fun. It's still in the middle of the morning after all." Violin points out. Everyone agreed and went back to eating. After breakfast, Mirage, Danny, Annesa, Amelia, and Crusher begin to walk back home, getting ready for a pool party.

Once they were in, Danny went to get ready for the snacks with Crusher's help. Amelia and Mirage help to put the table away from the pool so the snacks and drinks won’t get wet. Mirage took a peek at the pool, hummed, and went back to work. ‘Wait…’ Now he fully turned to the pool, which was found empty. There’s no water. “Oh boy… how do you fill the pool?” Mirage walks up to the empty pool and tries to figure out how to fill a pool. He looked around and saw a water hose, which might work. He turns the hose on, but no water can out.

Mirage tries to shake it and look into the hose but only ends up with a drop of water. Unknown to Mirage, Amelia may or may not have stepped the water hose. Once she took her feet away, Mirage was met with a blast of water, rushing onto his face. Mirage is not soaking wet. “Amelia, I swear I will get you back!!!” Amelia makes some nervous chuckles and quickly runs away to help Danny and Crusher. Mirage put the hose into the giant pool and it started filling it up, very slowly…

Mirage let out a groan. “This is gonna take forever to fill it up… maybe I could find something else to fill up the pool?” Mirage went off and tried to find a faster way to fill the pool. Amelia and Annesa come back with some snacks and some drinks. They placed it on the table and went back in to help. Unknown to all of them, a portal opens on top of the table and grabs as much food as possible, before closing. Mirage saw all of that. "Che cosa. IL. Diamine. What did I just see..."

"MIRAGE!!!" Mirage finched and turned back to his house, and saw Danny standing at the doorway. "OH MIO DIO! WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" Danny yelled/asked, also saw what just happened. Mirage could only sigh. "Our food thief."

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Annesa, Mirage, Danny, and Crusher were annoyed. The food thief has magic AND steals their food twice a day. This time, it was snacks. "We really need to deal with this food thief. We can't just let them keep stealing our food. The more they steal, the more money we have to spend." Danny sighs in frustration. They might have to cancel the pool party because of the food thief. There was then a doorbell. Annesa stand up and went to open the door, to see everyone ready for the pool party.

"Hey, dear. Are you guys ready for the pool party? You see a bit down." Violin ask. Annesa signed and let them come in. Scottie, Brutus, and Nicole bought some food and drinks for the party. "What's wrong?" Jay asked, noticing the atmosphere was a bit tense. "Food thief happened. Again..." Crusher answered. Everyone groans or sighs. "In the middle of the afternoon?" Accordion ask. Amelia nods. "How?"

"They open a portal right on top of our food and took, like, half of the snack on the table!!" Danny already had enough and wanted to get rid of whoever stole their food. "...We can still have a pool party..." Ulle tried to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere, which was not helping. "You're really thinking about the pool party?! WE HAVE A BIGGER PROBLEM TO TELL WITH!!!" Scottie yelled.

"HEY!! At least I'm trying to lighten up the atmosphere and try to push aside all the problems with have right now! Plus, this is a vocation for us. Shouldn't we be enjoying ourselves?" Ulle... did get a point... Since this is a vocation for everyone in the Toppat Clan. The chief did say they will send them some money if it's not enough. But they do need to find a job...

"OK, we will enjoy ourselves for now and deal with this 'Food Thief' later... Let's go and have some fun!" Cameron then quickly ran to the swimming pool while Brutus followed before all of them heard a big slash. Wait... the pool is already filled? It has been only an hour! Mirage jumped up and went to check if those two couples or ok. Cameron was giggling while Brutus was in the pool, which was half-filled.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR TRYING TO PUSH ME IN!!!" Cameron point and continue to laugh. Mirage sighs and looks into the forest. Maybe he could set up some traps.

After the pool was filled, everyone started to get playing. People slashing water at each other, some of them were talking, while the others were sunbathing, with sunscreen on, of course. Only Mirage, Danny, Annesa, Cameron, and Amelia stay away from the water because... well... What do you expect more from a cat hybrid and a computer mouse? Most of them were in their hybrid form. Jay quickly joined them. "Oh, hi Jay! Have fun?" Jay nervously chuckles. "Well... I'm not a big fan of water..."

"How come? I thought foxes could swim." Mirage asks. "Yes, foxes can swim, but remember I have firepower? So... yeah... That's the reason..." Everyone (Mirage, Danny, Annesa, Cameron, and Amelia) looks at each other and turns back to Jay. Danny makes a small smile. "Jay, you don't need to worry about that." Jay raised one of his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Yeah, we're now in a vocation. There will be no fighting for a whole year. Just enjoy yourself." Danny explains. Jay didn't say anything and smiled. "I will try..." This moment was ruined by Cameron, spraying water at Amelia. Amelia is now wet, very wet... She snaps to Cameron, who's laughing at her. "Just because you're a cat, it didn't mean I won't do anything to you..." Amelia's hand turns into a water gun and aims at Cameron. Cameron notices this and sweat-drops, then begins to run, while Amelia chases, what becomes a cat chasing mouse... or mouse chasing cat?

"Those two will never change... SCOTTIE!!! WE DON'T NEED TO WASH THE BREAD!!!" Danny ran over to Scottie and quickly stopped them from washing bread and other food. Mirage and Annesa sweat-drops at them. Mirage feels a pull on his shirt and looks down at Annesa's note. 'What are you gonna do with the food thief?' Oh yeah... "Um... maybe put some traps around? Oh, Maybe I can prank them! That will teach the some lessons!"

'And what do you need to make traps?' Mirage hums and looks back at the house. Maybe there's some stuff useful in the basement? "Tell Danny I will be right back." Annesa gave him a nod and went to Danny while Mirage went back to the house, searching for anything he could use to set up a trap for the food thief. He went to the basement and opened the light and OH BOY!!! There's so much stuff you can use to set up a trap.

There's even enough wood. "This might be some easy traps..." Mirage grabs some wood, nails, some ropes, and surprisingly, there's a net Whoever lived here before must be a hunter. Mirage grabs all of these and walks back to the pool, starting to build his trap for the food thief. Danny saw this and was about to ask what's he doing, but was stopped by Annesa. 'He's setting up some traps for the food thief.' Danny hums and lets Mirage do his things.

After like two hours, the trap has finally been set up. Now, all he needs to wait. "How's the trap going? Nicole asked. "Well, it's been coming alone. Once the thief steps on those leaves, it will set off a net and launch them into the air until someone helps them to get down." Mirage explains to Nicole. "Oh, good to know. just want to tell you to come and eat or else the others will eat them."

OH SHOOT!" Mirage starts running back to the pool. "LEAVE ME SOME!!! I HAVEN'T EATEN ANYTHING YET!!!"

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Night time has come and the trap hasn't moved yet. "Why are you still not asleep yet?" Danny walked up to Mirage and asked him. "I was about to sleep. Do you think the traps will work?" Danny hums and looks outside the window. "I think they will. Is pretty dark tonight. Go to sleep, brother. Let's just hope those traps will get those food thieves."

Mirage smiles as Danny exits his room. Mirage got in bed and was ready to sleep.

After, like, 4 hours, it was already in the middle of the night. Mirage got off his bed and went to use the bathroom. He then went to the kitchen and grabbed a cup of water then... he heard something. He quickly turns into his hybrid form and listens carefully. There was someone out there in the yard. His traps WORKED!!!

Mirage quickly put on his shoes and ran to the backyard to check on his trap. There! One of the traps was set off, and there's someone in it! It keeps struggling. "Ah HAH!!! THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR STEALING OUR FOOD!!!" The thing inside the net glares at Mirage before continuing to struggle. "Hey, I will let you down if you stop stealing our food."

The thing inside the net didn't seem to hear him. Mirage could only sigh and begin to cut the net. When he almost finished, a portal opened below him, making him and the thief fall through it. The portal the close and now Mirage is in the middle of nowhere. "Great... Just make it more difficult." Mirage turned back to the thief, who was now covered with ropes. It can't move anymore.

Mirage walks closer to get a better look. He can tell it has big wings and other small wings as their ears. "So... you're the one who keeps stealing our food, huh? Guess you just got karma for stealing." It didn't say anything but glare at him.

"Glare at me all you wanted, I'm gonna try to find a way back." Mirage only walks for a few step and look at the thief. This thief is a hybrid. He needs to survive... "*GROANS* I will free you but stop stealing our food!" The thief didn't say anything. Mirage raised his knife. The thief thought he's gonna kill him and closed his eyes, ready for dead. Mirage looks at the thief and walk closer before...

Starts cutting the ropes.

The thief feels the ropes are getting loose and looks at Mirage, who's cutting the rope as fast as he can. Once the rope was completely loose, he moved his wings. Mirage turns to the wing before getting slapped into the tree. Mirage hiss in pain and feels something sharp on his neck then look up.

Oh boy, he's dead. It raised his arm, ready to strike. Mirage closed his eyes, ready for the pain. The thief didn't do anything and decide to spare Mirage, not before leaving some wound on his neck, before fly away.

Mirage watches fly away and feels his neck, checking how big it is. Luckily, it's not too big. Now all he needs is to talk home... without knowing which to go. "You can at let sent me home..."

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3 hours... It takes three hours to get home... This is what he calls 'Pain'. Once Mirage returned to his room, he lay down after treating his wound. How is he gonna explain this? He was too tired to think so he was fast asleep. After, like, 5 hours of sleep, he wakes up and comes downstairs, to be greeted by Crusher. "Wow... you look awful. You sure you had a good sleep last night? And what happened to your neck?"

"Thief happened. Now leave me alone and let me drink a cup of coffee." Mirage grabs a cup of coffee and lazily sits on the chair. "Brother? Are you ok? You seem very tired." Danny asked, finished making breakfast.

"I only get 6 hours of sleep... You think I'm doing alright?" Mirage asks. Dude, why can't he sleep longer? "How about after eating breakfast, you go to sleep a little longer and tell us what happened to your neck?"

"Bet." Mirage finished the breakfast, put the dish in the sink, and beeline to his bedroom. "I never see someone eat their breakfast so fast. Surprisingly he didn't choke." He heard Amelia tell everyone. To be honest, he didn't care. He just wants to sleep and little longer. And he did.

First Next Per

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Hi! Shadow is here. Thank you for reading this chapter. Sorry for taking this long to post it. Want to play some Minecraft and I do need to continue to draw the next chapter, which will be a two-page comic. I hope you have and nice day and thank you for your patience.

#the henry stickmin collection #thsc oc #thsc #danny felizima #mirage #thsc crusher #thsc accordion #thsc violin #thsc nicole #ulle meadows #jay benson #brutus dan gerbreaker #amelia copperbottom #annesa felizima #scottie #cameron calvin #hybrid au

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liches-covered-in-lich · 4 months

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A bit late but *glares at tumblr* it's better be late than never ey?

But here is my 2023 art roundup! :D

General retrospectives under the cut per month if anyone is curious 😘

Jan: This was a gift I made for a buddy of mine! It was of his oc that the friend group collectively simped for and cultivated together, as a family. He's a great lad and a starting point for me to use stock textures for the general look of my art

Feb: An older design of my Miraak, but I really still like this piece. It was the starting point of me trying to learn how to draw characters interacting together. While I do think I can improve in some aspects, I still think it holds up really well and looks super cute!

Mar: Ah, gore. This was the beginning of me doing a 'soft' art style. It's of a melting Emperor Belos for the Tales of a Tyrant Zine (I believe the link is still active for access to the pdf? If curious, I should still have it around somewhere. It's pretty sick ngl). I really like this piece, it helped me deal with my imposter's syndrome in the group of Amazing artists as they really liked this piece of mine! And generally I love drawing gore

Apr: This was a commission for someone on tumblr! I used my softer style for this piece and had fun figuring out how to make the light imposing but not loose the main colors and details! Also fun fact - I had a friend pose for me holding a sign so I can get GOOD hand references as google was no help

May: Ah the first full drawing on Krita. This was a test on the art program as Autodesk Sketchbook was no longer working for me on desktop (tho I still use it for my ipad art!). It's of my HOK who I don't talk much about as they're just a Dude. Sorry Jhyth, I should do more with you

Jun: This bitch. Elyden I adore you, you're my favorite oc and one of my longest lasting ones but. . . It took so damn long to get a good design with him that showed his personality and wasn't a pain to draw. I really like his design here, I think he looks wonderful

Jul: A commission done for my Skyrim fanfic's editor actually! She's pretty cool and greatly improved my writing skills! And she paid me to draw a mudcrab in Sovngarde! What more do you want? I love this piece too as I learnt how to do backgrounds in my style that won't kill me in my detailed art style

Aug: Another commission done for a friend of mine! It was based off a doodle I did of his oc as a gift but he paid me to finish it as a full rendered piece! :D I got to draw a tiddy window and an evil throne!!!

Sep: An art collab I did with a friend of mine! Where we split the image in half and drew each other's ocs interacting! It's actually the same dude as the Jan's piece. I both hate loved working on this. His hands gave me so much trouble

Oct: My second favorite oc's revamped design, Lorelei <3 I love her a lot and I really love her design. I think it fits her perfectly and you can tell what she's about immediately by just looking at her. I adore this lady (also fun fact, she's the older sister of Elyden!). This drawing means a lot to me as it was me figuring out that I like drawing character references only in more fun poses in a sense

Nov: Funny thing, I finished that drawing yesterday. But it's a reference of my Rahgot! I chose this as my Nov piece as I feel like it was when I was getting better at character designs. In terms of practicality, function, aesthetics, colors, and visual language

Dec: A commission for an old friend of mine that I knew since...fuck me, I think...6 years? He wanted me to draw an antagonist for his body horror gundom ttrpg campaign! Even though he doesn't draw, his designs fuck so hard and I'm so glad I got to draw one fully <3 I love this piece and I think it was a great send off to the end of this year

I feel like I exploded in improvement this year. My skills and my methods for art became more practical and made my life a bit easier in general in the process (especially in the coloring department). And I cannot wait to see what I'll make for next year :D

Thank you all for coming with me to this journey <3 and have a blessed new year

#my art #krita #digital art #art roundup #2023 art recap #lichen art #art summary #artists on tumblr

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write-orflight · 3 years

Text

Watch Over Me: Chapter One

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev - Next

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating: M

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: none for this chapter: innuendo, language

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Steve Rogers learns about the future from a woman stuck in the past.

A.N This is my jazz club reader fic I’ve been talking about writing. This fic isn’t gonna be long but I like it so I hope yall do too. I’m not using my perm taglist because it’s different than my normal content. reply, message, or inbox to be tagged. Devil Has Lilith will be updated Saturday.

Slang used in this chapter:

Dish: An attractive Woman

Butter and egg man: The money man, the man who comes to town to blow a big wad in nightclubs.

Dip the bill: Have a drink.

Corn: Bourbon

Cake-eater: A ladies’ man

Jalopy: An old car.

Drop a dime: Make a phone call

Chapter 1: There's a somebody I'm longin' to see

“I can’t watch this anymore!” Tony said storming into the compound’s kitchen one night. Steve looked up from his sketchbook in confusion. “I can’t watch you sit in here another friday night. It’s tragic!”

“Ugh, not this again, Tony.” Steve says, sighing. Nat and Bucky begin snickering next to him, knowing where the conversation was going.

“Yes, this again. Cap, I excused it for the first couple of years because you were adjusting to the times but it’s been years! If you’re not on a mission, you don’t go out! Sometimes, when Pep is having trouble sleeping I describe your social life to her, puts her right slee--”

“Alright, I get it!” Steve cuts him off, slapping Bucky, who was in full hysterics at this point, in the arm. “I know my personal life is--”

“Non-existent?” Nat provides.

“Dead?” Tony adds, laughing.

“But it’s my personal life. I’m over 100 years old. If I looked it, you guys wouldn’t be questioning my staying home.”

“Exactly, if you looked it, I wouldn’t. But you are not that old yet.” Tony says. “Come on, let’s just all go out once. If you don’t like it, I’ll never make you go out again. I’ll even get you a coloring book or a model ship, or whatever old people do.”

“Fine.” Steve sighed, as the man next to him cheered. “But nothing like those places you typically go to. They’re too noisy and sweaty and--”

“Yea I got it, old-timer. We’re not going anywhere like that.” Tony provides. “My friend recently opened a restaurant where their back room is a speakeasy, very accurately themed, you need a password and everything to get in. You’ll fit right in.”

“Prohibition ended in the 30s.” Bucky says. “Long before Stevie could even drink.”

“Even still, work with me a little here.” Tony says.

“Fine.” Steve sighs.

“Awesome. Now, you’ve got to come in costume to these things so I’ve already taken the liberty of telling my tailor to make you guys something.”

“What if I had said no?” Steve asks.

“Oh, Cap. You should know by now I don’t take no as an answer.”

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Steve shifted uncomfortably in his uniform. It was almost exactly like the one he would wear out during down times in the war though he knew it wasn’t the real one as that one was in the Smithsonian. Still, Tony’s tailor did a good job with seemingly all the costumes. Tony looked almost identical to how Steve remembered Howard back in the day. Bucky was in a uniform that looked similar to his back in the day, Glove covering his metal hand. Natatsha was in a sleek red gown, white gloves and pearls that was more modest than he’d seen her wear but still made her look drop dead gorgeous.

Tony led them down a dark alley to what seemed to be a back door. Steve looked around confused as they entered the smokey hallway. At the end of the hallway there were two large doors and a lady with pinned up hair and a black shimmery dress, smoking with her feet propped up on the desk she was sitting at.

“Evening gentlemen.” She croons in an english accent. “And lady. Are you lost?”

“We have a meeting with Dr. Volstead.” Tony says, confidently.

The woman tilts her head back giving all of you a once over. “It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” She asks.

“Yes, it is. But I prefer the rain.” Tony says.

With that the woman stands and walks over to the large doors and knocks rhythmically 3 times. The doors open to reveal a large dance hall where couples are in full swing, laughing and drinking. A trio of girls crooned a faced paced song as a jazz band was playing behind them. For a moment, Steve did actually forget he was in the 21st century.

“Enjoy Paradise, my friends.” The woman smiles, before shutting the doors to the outside world.

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You were in the kitchen, taking a much needed headache break from the facade you had been putting up for your tables all night long when your Co-worker, Dalia, came up to you.

“Y/N, Y/N! You have to trade tables with me.”

You looked at her with a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Come on, It’s a 4-top anyway. I’ll even trade you the party table for it.” That made you even more suspicious. “50 bucks for it, come on.”

“Don’t trade, Y/N/N!” Your co-worker and friend/roommate, Jade added. “Tony Stark is in your section. I bet she only wants to give you 50 for it because she knows she’ll make 500.”

“Come on, that’s not even why.” Dalia groans. “Black Widow is also at your table and you know she’s on my ‘Celebrities I have to fuck before I die’ list.”

“God, are the rest of the avengers here?” You ask.

“Not all but you know who is here?” Jade asks. “Steve Rogers.” She says, in a mocking singsong tone, jabbing you. Your crush on Captain America wasn’t really a secret anymore after you confessed it drunk one night. “And he looks almost edible.”

You hum, you didn’t really feel like taking another table but this wasn’t a normal table. You doubt you had a chance but you weren’t passing up on serving Steve Rogers.

“I’ll make you a deal. I still want that 50 bucks and we share the table, I’ll consider splitting the tip.” You say, the idea of making your rent in a night did appease you.

“Deal.”

“Now ladies, I have a song to do.” You say, leaving the girls behind in the kitchen.

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Steve, for the first time in a while it seemed, was having fun. Tony was right, he did feel like he fit right in here. He clapped with the crowd, as the three girls bowed and left the stage. The piano man stood up and took the microphone Steve could tell was only styled to look old but actually wasn’t that old.

“One more time for the Duclaw sisters folks.” The smooth voiced man said into the microphone, inciting another round of applause from the crowd. “Our next performer is actually the last of the night.” That incited a few ‘awws’ of disappointment. “Don’t cry just yet because Old Gary never disappoints, our next performer is my personal favorite. Sings like a Canary and the Cat who caught it.” That induces a laugh from the crowd and a small chuckle from Steve. “And maybe if you’re good she’ll come on for an encore later. Ladies and Gentlemen, The Sultry Sounds of Y/N L/N.” He says, moving from the mic back to the piano as the crowd cheers. Steve watches the stage as arguably the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen seems to glide out from the backstage. She’s wearing a floor length silver gown that seemed to glimmer with every step she took. Her hair came down in long fingerwaves, pinned back so you could see the sculpt of her face. Steve would be lying if he said that wasn’t his favorite part of her facade. She had on simple eyeliner, foundation, and a bold red lip he could probably see from mars. You were beautiful, in a timeless sort of way.

“My, my.” She crooned in an sultry old new york accent that reminded Steve of the women he grew up around. “What would your wife say if she knew I was your favorite, Old Gary?”

“She’d agree!” The man called from the piano, inducing the chuckle from the crowd. And a deep sultry one from you.

“Well as they say, two’s just fine but three’s a party.” She winked at the old man in a way that would make Steve weak if he wasn’t already sitting.

“You ok there, Cap?” Tony said, snapping Steve out of the mystery woman’s trance. “You disappeared for a second.”

“I’m fine.” Steve said, fighting the flush that threatened to spread over his face. He looks out the side of his eye to Bucky, who was smirking at him knowingly. Of course, he knew.

“You know, you saying something about being good got me thinking, Old Gary.” She said, as the man softly played behind her. “A good man is hard to find. Great men are great, bad men are good sometimes too.” She winked to the crowd. “But every girl wants a good man, someone to watch over her.” Old Gary seems to take the cue to start playing her song.

“There's a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we're often told, ‘seek and ye shall find’” She began singing and it made Steve sit up in his seat. She had the kind of voice that was almost beckoning. She was becoming his own personal siren. “So I'm going to seek a certain lad I've had in mind”

“She’s a looker, huh?” The server, who introduced herself as Dalia, said as she sat down Bucky’s drink. “Y/N’s the main dish of this place.”

“I think I’m more interested in you, doll.” Bucky flirted, shamelessly.

“And I think I’m more interested in dames, Soldier.” She says, winking to Natasha who smiles coyly at her. Steve hardly pays them any mind as his focus was on you as you finished your song and thanked the crowd and waved while Old Gary helped her off stage.

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

You were changing from your stage outfit into your floor outfit when Dalia burst into the locker room.

“Y/N/N, I actually think I might have a chance with Widow. I mean, she’s kinda been ignoring me the whole night but when I mentioned I was into girls she smiled!” Dalia ranted, excitedly as you nodded. You turned your back to her so she’d get the clue to zip you up which she does. “Also, you should’ve seen the way Steve Rogers was watching you sing. He totally wants to hit that.” That makes you perk up a bit.

“I doubt it. I have it under good authority that he hasn’t hit anything in over 70 years. I doubt I’m what he’s been waiting for.” You laugh. “Still, it’s fun to think about.”

Dalia tugs you out of the locker room. “Come on, let's get back out there.”

You sighed before stepping out of the locker room and seemingly out of this century.

You fake laughed with a guest at the bar as you grabbed your tray of drinks and made your way over to the table that had been making you nervous all night. You placed the four whiskey rocks drinks on the tables.

“Courtesy of Dean.” You say, placing the drinks down. Stopping at Tony Stark. “Don’t know why? You seem to be the butter and egg man out tonight.

“Butter and egg?” He asks, looking to Steve and Bucky.

“Means money man, High roller.” Bucky explains, Steve nods.

“Ah, well I am that.” Tony says, laughing. “I must say Miss, what was it? Y/N?” You nod confirming. “I have to say you are quite the performer.”

“Thank you kindly, Mr. Stark. Go ahead, dip your bill.” You say pointing to the drink, Hoping they’d get the hint. They did of course, after seeing Steve and Bucky take a sip. You watch Steve grimace slightly at the taste of the liquor.

“Everything alright, fella?”

You watch Steve flush at the attention being tossed his way. You can’t help the confident smirk that graced your face knowing it was you that had Steve Rogers flustered. “I’m fine, I just don’t enjoy the taste.”

You hum. “Yea, it’s the big cheese’s favorite drink and he’s known for liking it rough.” You wink, somehow making Steve flush more. That made you want to push it more. “I’ve got some corn in the back they call the Y/N because it feels really good when it’s going down.” That makes Steve choke a little and induces a hearty laugh from the group. “Can I get you a glass, Soldier?”

“Y-Yea, I’d like that.” Steve flushes. It was almost fun at this point.

“I’d love to try the real thing.” Bucky says, flirting right back with a smirk you knew has to make every girl in the 40s weak in the knees. You didn’t indulge him though.

“Well, aren’t you a regular cake-eater.” You smirk. “I’ll be back with two glasses.”

“I see the serum didn’t enhance your ability to talk to pretty girls.” Bucky laughs as you want away. Steve can’t help but become a little distracted by the sway of your hips.

The rest of the night seemed to go like that. You bringing them drinks and flirting with the captain anyway you could just to see the pretty flush that spread across his face. But soon the time came for the superheroes to take their leave. As you sat the check in front of Tony, you brushed a hand over the Captain’s shoulder admiring the broadness of them.

“You’ll come back and see me, Sugar?” You say, phrasing it like a question despite it not really being one. Steve nods, dumbfounded by you. You smile and wink at him before walking away.

You’re in the kitchen eating the pizza you had ordered earlier when your manager, Dean comes out of his office for the first time that shift.

“Y/N!” You roll your eyes when you hear him scream your name. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I’m eating dinner. Something I could’ve done on my break if I ever got one.”

“You know you’re not supposed to be eating anything that couldn’t be made in the 30s. People pay for the illusion and if they see you gorging yourself on pizza, it ruins it.”

“No one’s looking in the fucking kitchen, Dean.”

“Uh-huh, and another thing. You know what kind of songs you’re supposed to sing.” You roll your eyes harder. You knew this argument was coming. “That song is from the 50s and you knew it.”

“None of those bullshit hipsters know who Ella fucking Fitzgerald is!” You yell. “Much less what years her fucking songs came out. That song killed and that’s all that fucking matters.”

“Change your set or you’re fired.”

That makes you laugh in his face. “Uh-huh, as if you’re going to find a singer who’ll work as cheap as me.” You say, brushing past him. “See you tomorrow.”

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

Steve comes back to the bar the following week. He tells himself that it’s just for a quick drink but he knew the real reason was because he could not stop thinking about you. He also knew you were probably just being friendly because it’s your job to. He just needed you to reject him so he could go on with his life.

He found himself in that hallway again approaching the woman he had seen last week.

“Evening, Sir.” She says. “Are you lost?”

“Umm.. I have a meeting with Mr. Volstead?” Steve questions, not really recalling the password fully.

The woman hums. “Nice night, no?” She says.

“I prefer the rain.”

The woman sighs. “I’m sorry. I typically would let you in because I don’t really care but technically I’m not supposed to let anyone who doesn’t know the password in… even if they are kinda famous.” She says. “The password changes every week. I’m sure if you ask Mr. Stark, he can find it for you.”

“Oh, no worries. Sorry for wasting your time.” Steve sighs, turning back out the building.

He’s approaching where he parked his bike when he hears a string of expletives being screamed followed with a car stuttering before not starting. He looks over to see a woman angrily get out of her car and lift the hood to see it smoking. The woman lets out another stream of expletives before kicking the tire and leaning her head on the roof of the car, defeated. For some reason, he feels compelled to go over and see how he could help. As he got closer he couldn’t believe his luck, it was you. He tapped you lightly on the shoulder and you turned with the beginnings of tears in your eyes.

“Oh, Soldier!” You said, quickly turning around to wipe your eyes and putting the facade you typically used with customers back up. “I almost got offended when you didn’t come back to see me. Imagine a broad’s old luck.” You said, smiling flirtatiously. Steve didn’t buy that smile for a second. He could see in your eyes you were still upset.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Oh, everything’s swell! This old jalopy has seen better days, gonna drop a dime to a friend hopefully--” You cut yourself off, switching into your normal speaking voice. “Listen, I’m sorry I just can’t keep talking like this off the clock. I’ll drive myself insane. Please, don’t tell my boss. I’m already on thin ice for not ‘maintaining the illusion’.”

Steve laughs, a weight suddenly feeling lifted off his shoulders. Suddenly you weren’t this mysterious woman who seemed to have all the right things to say and how to say them. You were human, just like him. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He says.

“Good.” You say, smiling briefly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I’ve gotta call Triple A for a tow.” You say, pulling your cell phone out. Steve had to admit it looked a little weird to see you with a cellphone in your olden days attire.

“How will you get home?” He asks.

“I’ll probably hoof it.” You shrug. “Or take the subway.”

“At night?!” Steve says, incredulously. “No, I can take you if you’d like.”

You look at him, hopefully. “I don’t want to be a burden.” You say.

“You won’t be one.” He smiles. God, that smile made you feel a little weak.

“Okay.” You smile back.

“Are you hungry by chance?” He asks, as the two of you walk back to his ride. “I was going to eat in the bar but I couldn’t remember the password.” He says, sheepishly.

That makes you laugh out loud. “Those passwords are such bullshit, Dean keeps changing them to keep it ‘exclusive’ but they always end up online anyway.” You say. “Every server has their own password, to keep track of regulars coming in. If you tell them you have a rose delivery for Mae, They’ll take you to my table no questions.”

“Mae?” Steve asks.

“For Mae West.” You explain, That makes Steve laugh again, of course you liked Mae West. “I could eat though. There’s actually a diner right down the road from here.”

“Perfect.” He says, straddling onto his bike. He raises an eyebrow at you when you hesitate. “Something wrong?”

“I’ve never ridden on a bike before is all.”

“As long as you hold on to me, you’ll be fine.” He says, smirking when he sees a flush creep over your face as he hands you his helmet. It was about time for you to be flustered by your interactions.

“I have no problems with that.” You say, placing that helmet on your head after you straddle the bike behind him. Your hands are tight around his waist as the two of you ride out of the lot, leaving Paradise behind.

Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve Rogers x self insert #steve x you #steve rodgers imagine #steve rodgers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain America x y\n #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine

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pondernce · 5 years

Text

Behind Closed Doors

Hi!

So this is the first thing I’ve written in almost 5 years, and the first for Outlander. (be kind to me). I hope you like it, and much love to @julesbeauchamp for her support <3

Jamie and Claire meet again in less than ideal circumstances...

Chapter 1

He could feel her hands on him, soft, delicate fingers tracing the planes of his back. They danced over scar tissue--the groves hewn into his skin by force--healing the wounds for him. Her mouth dipped to caress his jaw, the feathery brush of lips chased by soft, humid breath. A kiss on his neck. His Adam’s Apple. The juncture where sternocleidomastoid met trapezius. For a moment he let his eyes close, lost in the sensation. She found his mouth then, her legs winding over his hips and guiding him, urging him on.

Immersed in her, the gentle sound of the crashing waves was lost to him. He pressed up onto his hands, wrenching his mouth away because he needed to see her, needed to find those eyes…

Jamie woke up.

His heart raced, his skin was damp with sweat and he was uncomfortable stiff in his pants. As he was every time he remembered. And he always woke before he could see her face again. Aye, he could call her to his mind’s eye and he’d drawn her a dozen dozen times, but nothing so vivid as those dreams. The sketches were never quite right, and he knew that if he could only see her face in those dreams, he’d be able to capture her likeness completely.

With a sigh bordering on a groan, Jamie sat up and glanced at his phone. Five in the morning wasn’t too early, he supposed. At least it gave him time for a workout before he headed to university. A chance to get the nerves out. For some, perhaps, university was an unnerving step into adulthood. Leaving home, moving into a new place, the excitement of newfound independence. But Jamie had already made his move. From Highland Scotland to the Middle East, with the RAF. He couldn’t look forward to seeing what lads and lasses barely out of their A-levels would make of “adulthood” when they had no real responsibilities yet. And what would they make of him?

The streets of London were hardly quiet at this hour, but they were remarkably empty, and that’s what Jamie needed. A place to clear his head- to get her out of his head- before hustling through the crowded halls of King’s College, London. He jogged through the streets of Southwark, dodging the odd dog walker or early commuter. His route to King’s wouldn’t be long, thankfully. His military salary afforded him a nice enough flat close to the school, just across the river. He shared it with another Scot, Rupert, whom he’d served with in Afghanistan. It was a small mercy that Rupert spent almost all his time at his lass’ flat. The bloke was cheerful, but a bit too much sometimes.

Rounding the corner, Jamie checked the time on his FitBit and pushed his pace up, aiming to finish out five kilometers before he made it home. It wouldn’t due to be late for his first course though, even if his schedule for the day of Legal Philosophy and Medical Ethics hardly seemed interesting.

---

Legal philosophy could have been interesting, if the professor hadn’t put half the class to sleep. Jamie wasn’t surprised though, given that the majority couldn’t have been more than 18. High off being in Uni and hardly interested in what the ancient man before them had to say about the foundations of Legalism. The two girls next to him hardly paid attention, too busy giggling. He recognized the blonde from orientation, and she clearly recognized him.

Throughout the lecture he took diligent notes, only to avoid the girl’s eyes. The former soldier nearly bolted when the course ended.

He had nearly two hours before his next course, and plans to meet that bloke from the Rugby team. He’d gone out before orientation, trying to find some way to get involved. Many veterans struggled in university to find community, and he hoped he wouldn’t be another statistic.

“Fraser!”

He turned, smiling over a few startled students to see John Grey speed walking towards him. He was young, but Jamie found he didn’t mind that energy, John seemed a good person.

Smiling, he bumped the shorter man gently on the shoulder. “Good to see ye, I hope yer class wasn’t as boring…”

“Haven’t had class yet, just came early to grab lunch with you. We have practice this afternoon, you know? You’re welcome to come.”

Jamie glanced at his phone and shook his head. “Medical Ethics,” he sighed, “can ye tell I’m keen?” he laughed and shook his head. He wanted to get a background in law before he tried to leap into counter terrorism, and how did medicine relate to that?

“Pity. I hope it’s interesting.”

“I doubt it.”

Jamie didn’t mean to be cynical about university. It was supposed to be an opportunity to make something of himself after his medical discharge. Only, he found it overwhelmingly uncomfortable. And pointless. When he’d been in the war, reviewing briefings and in charge of his men, everything had been urgent. Learning on the fly, under pressure, where attention meant life or death. Here, he had the feeling he’d never need to attend to do well. It was disheartening.

His mind drifted as they ate. His fingers itched for his sketchbook, idle in his book bag. Jamie has taken up the hobby in the barracks, well before he met his muse. But the last two Moleskins had been interspersed with pages devoted to her. It had been a year, he knew he needed to let go. But he couldn’t yet.

“Jamie,” John’s voice cut into his thoughts, jarring the plans for how he’d shade the moonlight dappled on her skin from his thoughts.

“Och, Sorry. What was it ye we’re saying?”

John pursed his lips with that good natured shake of the head Jamie had already come to realize was a habit. “We should get going to class, where’s your head, man?”

The scot blushed, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck with a laugh. “Nothing, sorry. I didn’t sleep well, ye ken?” It wasn’t quite a lie, given he almost never slept well, or the medically recommended amount. With a small nod he grabbed their rubbish, scolding himself internally on the short walk to the bin.

Jamie knew better. He wanted to make something of himself that wasn’t available in the military, and that’s why he was here. He’d done the work, networked with other former soldiers already working for MI5 and in the government, learned what he needed to do if he wanted to work against domestic terrorism. But university should also be for himself, shouldn’t it? A change to live a bit of a normal life, to decompress after so much time at war. He knew he was lucky to even be back in the UK, let alone at a prestigious university. With a sigh and a quick shake of his head, he returned to John.

“I’ll be at practice after my class eh, make it up to you. Ye free for a pint after?” He grabbed his bag and fell into step alongside the shorter man, making a mental note of their plans as John went off about something on the news that morning. His brother was running for Parliament and the whole family had been in politics for centuries. Perhaps someday Jamie would be able to take advantage of such a connection, but presently he just needed the company.

They parted ways at one of the newer campus buildings, all shiny glass and stone. London was like that--an eclectic mix of modern and tradition that had Jamie missing Scotland more than foreign shores ever had. He’d not been home in years, and never truly wanted to go back. At least not yet.

“Excuse me,” he shoulder his way through a gaggle of students in the corridor, looking for the correct room. “104, 106… Christ.” 108 had to be the smallest room in the building, if not on the bloody campus. He’d failed to realize that the modern building connected to one of the oldest buildings, where the rooms became cramped cubicles of stone with sharply pointed windows, more reminiscent of a church than a university. The floor was old oak pitted and polished by centuries of steps, and Jamie could almost trace the path to one of the few available seats left. He was a large bloke--a fact which became abundantly clear as he settled behind the old fashioned desk. His knees knocked against the tabletop when he tried to sit up, forcing him to fold them awkwardly over the side. “Bit cramped, aye?” He joked quietly, meeting the eyes of a petite girl watching him. She flushed violently and nodded, stuttering over her reply.

“It-It’s a small course,” she shrugged finally, milky eyes darting back to her phone.

Jamie hummed, his own phone lost in the bottom of his bag after he got off the tube. After the military he apparently lacked the addiction to smartphones present in the rest of his generation. Or perhaps he was just old. Stretching his legs, he inadvertently cracked his back and sighed in relief, twisting to traction the other side just as another student walked in.

He froze, tracking her steps as she came into the small room. Slightly flustered, curls escaping her high bun and dragging over the material of her lightweight olive jumper, and her arms full of files and textbooks, she was unmistakably the same woman. His muse. Jamie traced every line of her, the smooth curves he knew with his hands and his pencil. He watched the long arc of her graceful neck, so pale and flawless against her dark hair. He couldn’t see her eyes, not yet, and the desire to almost had him squirming in his seat. So distracted was he that he failed to notice she hadn’t taken one of the available seats.

His muse had set down her books at the front of the room, shrugged off her camel overcoat and tossed it carelessly over the podium, carved her name into the ancient chalkboard in neat print, and now stood before them all, introducing the course.

His muse was a professor. His muse was his professor.

The name that had been absent from his syllabus and his memories stared mockingly back at him, stark white on deep green. Dr. Claire Beauchamp.

#my fic #behind closed doors #jamie & claire #prof/student au #if you catch a typo let me know!!#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fic

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roselyn-ravenblade · 6 years

Text

Return and Recover

{ Some Rp that occurred between @natereising and Roselyn here in Discord. Sharing it because <3 Thank you for reading if you do! }

To Ms. Roselyn Handhour

Care of the Cathedral of Light Stormwind City Dear Ms. Handhour, I hope this parcel finds you in good health. During my last visit to the Cathedral District in Stormwind I had the brief pleasure of meeting you when our paths quite literally crossed. Before I had the opportunity to return your sketchbook, you had vanished into the crowd. I hope you do not think it too forward of me as I took the liberty of opening it in search of some means of identifying the owner. That name led me to you. Rest assured that my search only took me as far as the inside cover, so I remain ignorant of the contents as not to invade your privacy any further. Best Wishes, Nathaneal Reising Menethil Harbor

Nathaneal glanced over the letter one final time, debating whether or not to simply send the parcel by mail. While it certainly would have been easier, the writer knew that he would not trust one of his journals to be handled with sufficient care in transit. The proper thing would be to deliver it himself, regardless of how uncomfortable it made him. The towering walls of the Cathedral seemed like an insurmountable challenge, yet he had to press on. Lowering his gaze to the cold stones beneath his feet, the man trembled as he shuffled across the threshold. Had he looked up, Nathaneal would have seen a young woman in a nun’s habit approach. She spoke some kind words of welcome, yet the man did not seem to listen. Ms. Roselyn Handhour. Ms. Roselyn Handhour. Ms. Roselyn-- “Sir?” the woman asked curiously to the seemingly frozen form of Nathaneal. Looking up, he drew in a deep breath before carefully speaking the words he had been practicing in his mind. “M-m-m-ms R-r-r-ose,” was all he managed to get out before the words caught in his throat. His shoulders tensed as a few sputtered sounds came forth. His arms clutching the sketchbook closer to his chest, he blinked his eyes several times in his struggle for the proper sounds. “Ha-ha-hand--” “Ms. Roselyn Handhour?” the nun quickly finished for him. “Try the Gilded Rose. And if you find her, tell her to come back to the church pantry. We can spare some food. Silly girl. ” Without another word, the man bowed rigidly to the woman, his eyes not leaving the floor as he turned to make his swift egress. With a quickened pace, Nathaneal made his way to the Trade District.

The Gilded Rose was of course crowded for poor Nathaneal, one-too-many people turning to look his way as he would make his entrance. The nun had offered to hold the sketchbook and put it into the proper hands when found, but clearly the man was on a mission. The innkeeper struggled to hear the stammering Nathaneal over the noise the drunken pair of lads were making at the bar, taking turns making up the words to some slurred sailor diddy at the bar. They just…were not very good at holding the tune. Or their beer. It ought to have been easy to find a Rose at a Rose, but it seemed it was more of a challenge than it should have been. On the upper floor of the tavern the artist tried to keep to her own little table, her head and hair in her hands in some defeat. She’d looked everywhere she could for her sketchbook, and it was killing her that she’d lost another little piece of Gilneas that was left.

Weaving in and out of the drunken patrons, Nathaneal forced his attention to the individuals scattered around the tavern. Though as soon as someone set their sights on him, the awkward man seemed to recoil, regardless of the distance between himself and the onlooker. Ducking his head to avoid further eye contact with any one person, he continued to scan the room. Having no luck on the first floor, Nathaneal was relieved that as he ascended the stairs to the second floor, the area seemed a little more sparsely covered. He glanced to a young woman sitting alone, looking a bit more sullen than the rest of the raucous lot. While he hadn’t had a good glimpse of her during their encounter a few days prior, the man thought at least she might be the safest to approach in hopes of finding the owner of the sketchbook. Licking his lips to wet them, he took a few hesitating steps closer. The book still held tightly to his chest, he attempted to clear his throat to draw the woman’s attention.

The sullen woman had started to lift her head from the table, dewey amber eyes peering out helplessly from choppy, curling mahogany locks. She stared through blurring tears at the gent that began to approach her table, and on gradually recognizing him, she shot up from her chair like a bullet. "Ohhh....!" her lips were captured with the surprise, face a conflict of relief and pain as she nearly tried to mob the poor man with her sketchbook in his arms.

Nathaneal stared in wide eyed horror as the woman leapt from her chair. Taking a stumbling step backwards, his arms shoved the book forward almost as if in tribute. The letter he carried with it fell from his hands, fluttering down until it came to rest at her feet. He made no attempt to speak, fearing that the women's sudden movement would thrust him over the banister at his back and the pair of them would tumble to the bar below. And, to be honest, he knew that he wouldn't be able to get any words out until it was too late anyway. Instead he braced himself for a potential impact.

Roselyn seemed to regain herself just before actually crashing into the man, very aware of his own reaction and not wanting a repeat of what had happened in the trade district tunnel a day ago. Sheepishly pursing her lips together, she whispered out a trembling little chuckle of "'m'sorry..." and wiped her face of its wetness. Sniffling, she bent to pick up the letter that fluttered to the ground before rising again to gently reach, curling her fingers around the edges of the sketchbook, waiting until he released it before taking it herself.

He readily relinquished the book, relieved to return it to its rightful owner. Arms falling to his sides, the man seemed to straighten, thought he could only make brief periods of eye contact. "S-s-sorry," he made a soft apology, inwardly thankful of the letter that was in the women's hands. At least that way, he wouldn't have to explain anything more verbally. Or so he hoped.

Standing there awkwardly for a moment as she now closed the sketchbook to her chest, Rose smiled weakly at his apology, shaking her head, realizing all she really had to say was "sorry" in the moment, and it would seem a vicious circle of apology. What was done, was done. It was fixed now, and she bobbled her head in a nod at him again...as if the poor man was expected to grasp on her awkward visual cues somehow? At last she formed words to try to articulate her thankfulness. "It...it means a lot? I...ehm. I mean. I've other sketchbooks but...this one's a bit special?" She murmured even her explanations as inquires, hoping she made some kind of sense.

Nodding in understanding, Nathaneal offered her a faint smile, though his brow remained creased in concern. He bowed his head as he attempted to speak. "G-g-glad I c-c-could find you, M-m-miss." He clasped his hands behind his back, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. He shot a glance to the staircase to his left, calculating the fastest escape route.

At ease, but painfully aware of the man's discomfort, Rose nodded silently, not wanting to keep him longer than he wanted to be. He had certainly done enough on his own end. If anything, he made her feel more awkward by the second. "Okay. I'm...I'm thinking I'm going to leave...?" She tried, indicating that it was alright for him to do the same.

His tensed shoulders seemed to relax at the prospect of making his retreat, yet he didn't waver from his spot. "I c-c-could w-w-w--" His face contorted as he fought with the word that refused to come. A light tap of a finger to his leg turned into a more forceful, repetitive pat. In a sudden burst of sound, Nathaneal was able to continue. "Walk you ou-out."

"Uh..." Roselyn uttered the sound with soft uncertainty, watching Nate struggle with concern. "Only if you want to?" She smiled weakly, puffing out a little nervous chortle that ran through her words. "Don't want to run into you again." She'd stop herself, squeezing her eyes shut hard at how rude that sounded. "...I...ehm...I mean literally. With the tunnel? And....things like that." A hand flashed out at her side to try to add to her emphasis of what she meant. She'd start to scoot forward slowly for the stair, giving Nate time to decide how he would like to exit, or position himself near her.

Walking at her side, the man didn't dare look up from the floor. It was a miracle he was able to dodge the other tavern goers so easily. "N-n-na," he started to attempt a word, yet quickly fell into a defeated silence. Drawing in a trembling breath, a soft sigh escaped on the exhale. His attention finally lifted to the door exiting the Gilded Rose. A look of relief washed over his features. Just a few more steps…

Light filtered in through the Gilded Rose as Roselyn pushed open the door, introducing the two back to the outdoors they were eager on seeing. She waited for Nathaneal to slip out before she followed suit. The letter had been scrunched up in her hand, and realizing that, she shifted the sketchbook in her arms to take a moment to read over it. A long moment, rather, that gave Nathaneal yet another moment to make his full escape as she was distracted. Rose was softly smiling at the letter then, uttering a quiet "Thank you, Mister Reising. For...for all the trouble. And...ehm. walking me out, here." He had beautiful, impeccable handwriting, and Rose kept finding her eyes drawn back to his words.

The moment they moved back outdoors, Nathaneal's rigid, almost clockwork posture eased to something more human. He breathed an audible sigh of relief to be free of the crowds of the Gilded Rose. He waited while Roselyn finished the letter, a soft smile playing about his lips as he nodded. "Y-y-you needn't th-thank me. I know h-h-how dev-devastated I would be if-if I lost one of m-m-my journals." The words came a bit more fluidly, even his tone relaxed. "I-I am g-glad that I w-w-was able to f-find y-you."

A quick nod, a little embarassed with her train of thought as she folded the letter back into the pages of her sketchbook. As Nate seemed to relax, so did she, though for a long moment she didn't know what else could be said. Then, suddenly: "Is it horr'ble that it's not quite the first time've lost it?" She chortled through a corner of her mouth with that not-quite-smile.

He chuckled warmly, his smile brightening. "N-no. Not h-h-horrible. Th-thankfully I-I don't l-l-leave Men-menethil much, or else I m-might be in the s-s-same situation." He bowed his head, turning his attention to the ground between them, yet the smile remained on his lips.

"Eheh, well. Think I..ehm. need t'find a way not to be such a klutz." She murmured very quickly under her breath, fingering the bind of the precious sketchbook now. Her voice was still just a tad tremulous from the teary reunion with it, her touch on the pages and leather covering nearly apologetic. "Is the last bit've Old Gilly I really have." Amber eyes slid gradually back to Nate, finding him easier to look at when he wasn't directly staring on her. This allowed curiosity to flow. "Well...I..I've never....i mean I don't leave Stormwind much now....so I do wager we have that in common? Though...am quite thinking it's time to change that too." "Is...ehm...Menethil nice? Never really been there."

He nodded, only glancing up briefly as he spoke. "I-i-it is. M-m-much more ser-ser-ser--" Nathaneal paused, closing his eyes as his jaw tensed with the attempt of the word. Serene. Serene... With a slow breath, he felt the tension dissipate, allowing him to continue. "Sssssserene." He exhaled the remainder of the breath, his eyes fluttering open. "I pre-prefer it to S-s-s-stormind."

Rose watched the struggle with his words, her brow creasing with guilt now that it began to dawn on her that words seemed to even be more difficult for him than even, herself.

It all turned her back to a tactiturn quiet, not wanting to force more conversation he would be more comfortable without. "...well...thank you..." she finally peeped out, almost in a barely heard whisper, not knowing what else to add in a moment where all words simply seemed inadequate for her in the face of personal concern.

Nathaneal's smile suddenly faded, his posture visibly wilting at Rose's change in demeanor. The man bowed his head, unable to make any further eye contact for fear of further insult. "Of c-c-course. I w-w-won't de-detain you an-an-any longer... Good-good day M-m-miss Ha-ha-handhour."

With the returning unease thick in the air, Roselyn saw herself away, though the unease did not leave her as she left for the Cathedral, and the lake which was her little harbor behind it. Walking through the cemetary, a plethora of words came to her that she could have said, long after they had parted ways. She hadn't even offered to repay her sudden savior for his trouble! How rude!

Once seated at her place on the fishing isle, she nodded silently at the fisherman there with a wry, smile, and opened up the saved sketchbook to a new, fresh page.

She would have to do something special for Mister Reising.

{ @natereising <3 Thank you for lovely awkward rps! Look forward to following up with Rose’s gift in return! }

#Rose Handhour #Nate Reising #Sketchbook returned #Awkward Bean Dance #This was great to write ;)

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