#guys appreciate this my husband spent and hour finding the images at Least

[kinged]

Happy Sunday to The Most Guy In Anything!

#sun wukong #txt #guys appreciate this my husband spent and hour finding the images at Least

[seriouslysnape]

Hopeless Romantic

__

Lucius Malfoy x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of sex, Language.

Word Count: 1,634

“I see you found one of my messages.”

__

Even Lucius would admit, he wasn’t very in touch with his romantic side. The love language of Lucius Malfoy was physical touch, have no doubt about that. He felt that if his hands were on you, then he was displaying his care and adoration in the only way he knew how. However, after spending more and more time with you, he learned that there were other ways to show his affection.

Words of affirmation were definitely one that stunned him. You were always telling him how you were proud of him and how you admired him. At first, he tried to ignore the way his heart did a little leap whenever you spoke to him this way. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, which wasn’t always normal for him. He’d find himself going back to those moments, smiling off into space at how it made him feel. 

Lucius had never been a “flowers on Valentine’s Day” kind of guy. His hands being on your body or his fingers running through your hair or even just brushing by you when he walked by was his way of showing his love. While that was always great and appreciated, he just didn’t understand yet that you needed more than that. 

You had mentioned it a time or two before that you needed to hear his love for you and see it. Lucius became rather irritated, thinking that you were just being overly clingy and ungrateful. Lucius was a VERY proud man, and it was rare for him to ever doubt the way he did things. If you weren’t satisfied with him, then that was a you problem in his eyes. 

While it was incredibly frustrating that he never showed his devotion any other way, you understood that Lucius didn’t know how to. Over time, you were able to identify that his lingering touches and passionate kisses were his way. So, you accepted it and moved on.

Despite this, Lucius began to notice something new. You had accompanied him at a dinner party of sorts, enjoying the company of others and taking that much deserved social time. Lucius had been standing with you, his hand on the small of your back when he caught the conversation you had been having with one of the guests. She was telling you about how her husband had started writing her love notes, and leaving them around the house for her to find later.

Lucius almost audibly scoffed at the thought of such a cheesy idea, but he stopped himself when he saw the way your eyes brightened in a not-so subtle way. You gushed and gawked with your friend for the next ten minutes, going on and on about how romantic that was. Lucius was surprised that you had such a reaction to the idea, and he suddenly began to see just what you had been talking about. 

He spent the rest of the evening thinking about it, wondering if he could pull off the same exact thing. He was confident at first, because how hard could it be to put his love into words? He didn’t realize just how challenging it would be until he had been sitting at his large desk for almost thirty minutes, quill in hand, and the paper completely blank. He was surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper that had been discarded, none of them proving to be successful drafts.

He couldn’t think of a solitary thing to say, or even how to say it. It seemed that his penmanship skills were less than perfect. He was growing more and more aggravated with each passing moment. This shouldn’t be this hard. He was crazy about you, so why couldn’t he string together a damn sentence?

He tossed his quill back onto the desk, ready to give in to defeat. He sighed harshly, his eyes roaming over his previous attempts that were scattered in front of him. His gaze wandered to a gold-framed photograph that he kept at the front of his desk. He picked it up, letting out a soft chuckle as he remembered the day it was taken. 

It was a rather candid picture, which was much different than any of his other images of you, but it was his favorite. It was a bit of a secret hobby of Lucius Malfoy, but he had a glimmer of interest in photography. You were often the subject of his pictures, sometimes they were fully staged and sometimes not. He might take pictures of you just cuddled up next to him on the sofa, or sometimes he’d have you model for him to take more sultry, provocative pictures (that he kept stashed away in a locked drawer in his desk for his sole viewing pleasure).

He glanced over the finer details of the framed picture. The way you looked so glowy and gorgeous. Your eyes sparkled a little more and your skin looked heavenly. His mind wandered to how he loved to touch you as a reminder that you were there with him. How he cherished the way you snuggled up next to him when you were cold or wanted attention. Before he knew it, he was thinking about all the things he loved about you. Exactly the things he wanted to put into words.

He quickly picked his quill back up before he lost his stroke of genius. He wrote like a madman, writing one to three sentences on each piece of parchment before moving on to the next one. He used a lot of the things that you said to him on a daily basis to help him along. He was on a roll after a few minutes, pushing out at least five or six little notes to leave around the house. He planted them in various places, and considering his residence was massive, he had plenty of spaces.

He was proud of himself, but hoping that you would find them endearing. He wasn’t home when you found the first two. The first had been stashed into the novel you were currently reading, falling onto your lap when you opened the book. You raised a brow at the parchment that you identified as Lucius’ personalized stationery. You opened the folded note, reading it so many times because you were sure that you were dreaming.

[Y/N],

Your heart is as pure as the words written on these pages. I love you for being my greatest story.

Lucius.

You were totally shocked. Surely, this wasn’t YOUR Lucius that had written this? The same Lucius Malfoy that sneered at anything even remotely commercially romantic? This was a textbook definition, straight out of a romantic Muggle movie that he would never be caught dead watching. You were filled with joy, an amazing feeling of care rushing over you. It was a wonderful surprise, one that you would keep close to you. 

While the first one was a shocker, the second one was three times that. An hour or so later, you entered the bathroom to take a shower when you caught a glimpse of the small piece of parchment tucked into the corner of the mirror. You plucked it into your grasp, a blinding smile appearing on your face.

My love, 

I hope you find this with a smile on your face, the same one that I have undoubtedly fallen in love with. I love you for being the light of my life.

Lucius.

This one caused tears to prick at your eyes. You were overwhelmed with emotions. You had watched Lucius become “soft” over the years and watched him comply with your needs. Seeing HIS handwriting, writing THESE words that he put together was a gorgeous thing. You wiped away at the happy tears streaming your face when you heard someone enter the connecting bedroom. Sure enough, the man in question appeared in the doorway. A grin appeared on his face when he saw you holding the note.

“I see you found one of my messages.” Lucius said, approaching you at the bathroom counter. 

“I’ve found two...how many are there?” You asked, even more gleeful that you might have more to find.

He hummed thoughtfully.

“Quite a few,” He admitted, snaking an arm around your waist. His smile disappeared when he saw the faint tracks of tears on your cheeks; “Have you been crying, darling?”

He swiped at your damp cheeks, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

“Yeah, but happy tears. I wasn’t expecting this at all, Luc.” You confessed, resting your hands on the collar of his shirt.

He felt his heart melt. He never knew how something so simple would touch you like this. You deserved to feel worshipped and appreciated, and if this was the way he needed to do it, then so be it. 

“I meant everything I said. I do love you. Even if I don’t always say it.” He said, holding your face in his hand.

“I love you, Lucius. I’m proud of you.” You said. 

Oh, there it was. His favorite words of encouragement. He smiled again, listening as you carried on.

“Even if you don’t say it a lot, you always show me,” You said in a seductive tone; “And, oh, do you show it well.” 

His smile faded into more of a smirk. His first instinct to pick you up and place you on the counter, stepping between your legs and leaving hot kisses on your neck. Before he progressed further, he stopped.

“Wait, don’t you want to find the rest of them?” He asked, figuring you’d rather do that instead.

You shrugged. While you did totally want to, you could spare a few minutes for this. You kissed him in response, replying before making sweet love with him.

“Yeah, but I want you more.”

#lucius malfoy #Lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy fanfiction #lucius malfoy x you #Lucius #lucius malfoy x female reader #seriouslysnape

[joontier]

Patawad, paalam. | drabble

translation: forgive me, goodbye. 

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: NC-17

genre: romance, angst | warnings: wholesomeness basically (one-liner implied smut),,,,,, until you get to the last line gklasjdfa bUT DONT SKIP 

word count: 1.3k

g/n: AHHHHH! my first release for The Paraluman Project!! might as well rename this angsty august (can i get an amen @mintseesaw​ this was meant to be posted in a few hours bUT IM IMPATIENT LIKE THAT kdsjfasfasf) anywho,, ‘Patawad, paalam’  is meant to be a prologue and an epilogue at the same time and if you guys want to have a lidol backstory well lmk okiiii,,,, yall know im ready to spoil my darlings EEEEP feedback is always appreciated!! ILY YALL

navi. | m.list

Today’s the big day. 

The church had been decorated just like the way you’ve always pictured it to be - your idea of the perfect wedding finally a reality. Just as what had been planned years ago by both of you, you have decided on celebrating this once-in-a-lifetime event in your chapel - the very place where you two first met. 

Four-feet tall pedestals crowned with bouquets of white hydrangeas stand tall and proud along the length of the aisle, while the sunlight passing through the stations of the cross depictions on the stained glass provided an extra burst of color on the snowy flowers. 

Jungkook has never been good with crowds, especially not when the audience included their relatives and some of their closest family friends. Yeonwoo, Jungkook’s best friend of many years, takes notice of the man’s palpable uneasiness, and approaches the nervous man. “You’ll do just fine, Kook. I believe in you.” After a pat on the back, Jungkook smiles at his best friend, grateful for the much-needed reinforcement. 

There’s a quiet chatter amongst the guests, remaining seated on the wooden pews as they wait for the processional. The benches have been newly varnished just for the occasion. While a number of the invited guests speak to each other to pass the time, the rest take photos of the immaculate venue as they praise the decorations. Perhaps he could mention your unparalleled efforts in his speech later at the reception. 

Pride swells in Jungkook’s chest as he remembers how much time and effort you had spent perfecting each detail of the church’s decorations, investing at least three whole days of planning for the interior alone. 

Jungkook stands by the altar patiently, big brown eyes scanning the crowd and silently thanking each one of them for having allocated a day from their busy lives just to witness one of the most important days of his life. The man continues to struggle with the event’s actuality, his stubborn nerves gnawing at him deliriously. In fact, he doesn’t think he’d been able to cope with reality for the past few days. 

He recalls having dreamt about you last night, unable to sleep a wink after seeing a vivid image of you in a white dress during his slumber. The restless man takes a stroll in the seminary’s garden in the hopes that the tranquility afforded by the grounds will bring him enough peace and quiet to lull him back to sleep. 

As he entered a secluded area only a few people knew of (you included), he found you on the swing, swaying yourself gently on the seat. He wanted to go back to his room, under the quite ridiculous belief that it was bad luck to see the bride just before the wedding ceremony. He watches you for a while, hiding behind a moss-covered wall. As he studies your features, he senses you’re just as restless as he was and shortly after, he finds himself walking towards you, unproven hearsay the last thing on his mind. You converse for a good two hours until you deemed it time to go back to your rooms and get some sleep. You both had a long day ahead of you and rest was important. With a final hug, you part ways once more. 

The musical ensemble brings Jungkook out of his reverie, the sudden sound of the violin playing making him jerk slightly in surprise. The soloist starts strumming the strings of her guitar to a familiar tune, giving the song more depth and emotion with the melodic sound resonating throughout the chapel. The crowd’s chatter immediately falls to a hush, the audience faces the entrance to watch the highly-anticipated processional. 

Wise men say, only fools rush in 

But I can’t help, falling in love with you

Your niece enters first, passionately throwing white petals from a large disproportionate wooden basket. Her tiny feet carry her throughout the length of the aisle, sending a half-toothless smile left and right. 

Her older brother trails after her a couple of meters away, his usually unruly hair now handsomely tamed with gel for this special occasion. The audience coos at the siblings, finding the duo most endearing. There’s muted laughter amongst the crowd as his small hands tremble, the ring pillow shaking lightly in his grasp. As they reach the altar, your brother, the best man, gives the siblings a high five before guiding them back to their pews. 

Like a river flows, slowly to the sea, 

Darling, so it goes, 

Some things are meant to be

The bridesmaids file in with bright smiles from the side, each carrying a mellow arrangement of baby breaths and lavenders. Your closest cousin, Cassie, who you chose to be the maid of honor has flown all the way from Canada just to witness your wedding. She walks the carpeted aisle slowly, dabbing at her cheeks with the back of her hand as she clutches onto a bouquet with the other. 

Next in line are Jungkook’s parents, who are both holding on to each other for support. When Jungkook’s and his mother’s eyes meet for the first time today, unspoken words are shared between the mother and son, small smiles gracing their lips in acknowledgement. Your parents follow after them with your father’s cheeks already red and wet with tears. 

As the entire entourage get to their seats at the front, the music stops. All bodies turn to face the entrance. The majestic wooden doors finally open with an audible creek, and the whole chapel falls quiet. 

Take my hand, 

Take my whole life too, 

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Jungkook’s eyes, previously scanning the crowd, finally fixate on you. God, you were so beautiful. He reprimands himself for using the Lord’s name in vain, but at the same time, there was no one else to speak to, or thank but the Lord Himself: for his life, for his family, for this day, and most especially, for you. 

You looked magnificent. Regal, even. 

He wasn’t familiar with how dresses were described in detail, all he knows is that the exact moment he saw you today, time just froze, as if the whole world paused in its entirety. You were the girl in his dreams. You were the girl of his dreams. 

A tiara adorned with crystals and pearls rests prettily on your head, the crown anchoring a sheer, long lace veil that flowed beautifully along the length of your gown at the back. The bodice of your dress accentuated your curves wonderfully and the endless number of baroque patterns sewn onto the fabric of your dress added up to the silhouette your wedding gown graciously gave you. 

Jungkook’s mind betrays him for a moment - the vivid memory of the single intimate moment you two shared - an experience of a lifetime that had been etched onto the back of his head for the rest of eternity. 

Jungkook subconsciously tugs at his sleeves, racking his brain for something to stop his trembling hands but achieves nothing. His palms are likewise getting clammy, only adding to the poor man’s nervousness. When he meets his mother’s eyes one more time and she sees the emotion swirling in his son’s eyes, she lets out a choked sob, resting her head against her husband’s shoulders as he places a consoling hand on her back for support.  Jungkook diverts his eyes before his own tears threaten to fall. 

As you finally reach the altar with your own hands trembling like a falling leaf in autumn, Jungkook gives you a small smile, one you reciprocate with a warmer one. Tears start to well in his eyes. Jungkook closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage as he takes a deep breath. With renewed hope, he takes in his surroundings and sets another smile on his face, this time more genuine than the last. He spreads his arms and speaks - 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of God, to witness the joining of my very own brother, Junghyun and _________ in the holy covenant of marriage…” 

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

#paralumanproject #bangtanhq #btsguild #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsgoldnet #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines

[libsterslobsters]

What Is And What Should Never Be Pt 4

Summary: After what was supposed to be a week-long mission (but stretched on for over a month), during which she found out more about their "little stranger", the reader is more than happy to welcome Bucky home.

Also, I suck at summaries.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! Super-soldier Reader

(Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Language, pregnancy, smut, fluff

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

Series masterlist

--------------------------‐----------

“They should be calling me back soon.”

 It’s not the ideal way of communicating with your husband while you’re waiting impatiently for  an ultrasound in your OB-GYN’s office, but texting is all she has, so it’ll have to do. A week long mission has stretched into four and a half weeks, and although they can’t share phone calls (anyone could be listening in), texting has received the all-clear. She’s grateful that, for the sake of this doctor’s appointment, it’s nighttime in his part of the world, so he’s tucked safely away and can at least somewhat experience this with her.

 “I’m gonna give these guys hell for making me miss the chance to spy on our girl.” She chuckles at the message on her screen before typing back her own.

 “What are you going to do if it turns out we’re having a boy?” Since the day she told him she was pregnant, Bucky’s  been convinced this baby is a girl, but they don’t know for sure. Despite trying her best to concentrate on anything her visions can tell her, she’s come up blank. For all they know, the “little miss” they’ve been talking to for the past few months is really a little mister.

 “Teach him how to treat a lady instead of teaching her how to throw a punch.” She snickers. It’s a good response. Still-

 “You do realize she’s the child of two super soldiers. She could have the worst right hook in the world, and the other person would still walk away with a black eye.”

 “Barnes?” That jerks her attention away from her phone. The nurse is standing just outside the waiting area, eyes searching the room. On instinct, she glances around her, making sure no one has reacted to her last name. She’s not the most recognizable of the Avengers, but still, she’d rather not have the world know she visited the obstetrician today. If anyone has put two and two together, they’re doing a good job of hiding it so, readjusting her shirt in an attempt to hide her bump, she stands and follows the nurse out of the room.

 For what feels like the millionth time, she gives her full name and date of birth. The nurse’s eyes widen in recognition, but other than that, she keeps it professional.

 “Just wait in here, hon. Someone will be right with you, okay?”

 “Thank you.”

 The ultrasound room is small, barely more than a broom closet, but at least she’s away from prying eyes. So, she hops up on the table in preparation and takes advantage of the time alone to read the latest message.

 “It’s still a valuable life skill. If she takes after her Mom, she’ll be a looker. I want her to be able to make people think twice before they forget their manners around her.” The message brings a smile to her face, but also makes tears prick at her vision.

 “I wish you were here.” As quickly as she types the sentence, she erases it. He’s simply not able to be here, and that’s all there is to it. No need to make him feel bad about something he’s already beating himself up over.

 The door opens, this time revealing the same ultrasound tech she met at her first appointment. There’s another round of name and date of birth, then settling onto her stool next to the machine, the tech asks,

 “Did you want to know the gender if we’re able to tell today?” When they discussed it, she spent a solid fifteen minutes convincing Bucky that yes, this is a thing they can tell just from those black and white pictures, no she’s not pulling a prank on him, they can find out if they’re having a boy or a girl before the baby’s born. Ultimately they decided-

 “Yes.”

 It’s only the second time she’s been in this position, so everything is still relatively new. A warning about the gel being cold, the pressure of the ultrasound wand against her, and then the screen coming to life. This time around, the baby actually looks more like a baby instead of a blob, and as she watches, she sees a hand go up.

 “You’re feeling movements at this point, right?” She nods. “Good.”

 Starting at the head that still looks far too large, they work their way down the body, different images being captured over every organ. Then-

 “Are you ready to find out if you’ve got a little boy or a little girl in there?”

 She pulls up her phone and rapidly types, “About to find out he or she.” then answers.

 “Yes.”

 There’s a momentary pause, then-

 “Congratulations. Looks like you have a little girl.” This time there’s no stopping it. The tears spill over.

 “Sorry.” She swipes at her cheeks. The tech offers her a sympathetic smile and offers her a few tissues, which she readily accepts.

 The scan goes on for a few more minutes, picture after picture being filed away. Finally, the wand is removed and the tech informs her,

 “I’ll have to confirm with the doctor, but everything looks good. Did you want some pictures to take with you?”

 “Yes, thank you. That would be great.”

 The machine spits out a few images which are torn off and handed to her.

 “I’ll give you some privacy to get cleaned up. Someone will be with you shortly to take you to an exam room, okay?”

 “Thanks.”

 The tech stands and starts towards the door. Hesitating just outside it, she turns.

 “By the way, I couldn’t help but recognize the name on the file.” Oh. Here it goes. “I just wanted to say we really appreciate all you’ve done. The other Avengers too. My little girl loves to pretend that she’s the Soothsayer and runs around telling me, “Mom, I had a vision.” “

 She laughs, a mental picture forming in her mind of a smaller version of the woman in front of her wearing a Halloween costume version of the Soothsayer uniform.

 “That’s good to hear. I’ll pass the word along to the team.”

 The tech disappears down the hall and she cleans herself up. Holding up the clearest ultrasound image, she snaps a picture and attaching it, texts, “It’s a girl.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

 He’s been staring at his phone for the better part of the last four hours but still, Bucky can’t bear to look away. The picture isn’t the best, a little blurry around the edges, but it still has his full attention. That, and the text attached: “It’s a girl.”

 “That thing’s gonna die on you if you don’t put it away soon.” He chuckles in response to Sam’s words.

 “We’re only half an hour out. Somehow, I think I’ll make it.”

 “What’re you staring at anyway?” He hesitates for a moment. Sam knows their big secret, as does Wanda, but so far no one else has caught on. Is it okay for him to share this? His gut tells him that it is, so he holds up his phone, careful to tip the screen so that only Sam can see it.

 “Oh.” Immediate recognition blooms on his partner’s face. “That a recent one?”

 “Yesterday.”

 Not looking away, Sam continues.

 “You know, I sorta thought you were joking before, trying to throw me off what’s really going on, but I guess it’s true.” His eyes narrow, and it’s obvious when he reads the text on the bottom. “A girl?”

 Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile if he tried.

 “A girl.” He would’ve been okay if his hunch turned out to be wrong, but now that he knows for sure that they have a daughter on the way, he’s excited. Excited… and terrified.

 “Damn.” Sam chuckles. “It’s too bad you got rid of the long seventies hair. She could’ve put flowers in it when you play tea party with her.” He snickers. If this baby, his daughter, does indeed want him to have a tea party with her in a few years’ time, he’ll do it, and do it gladly. Hell, he’ll even wear a feather boa and funny hat if that’s what she wants. The world may think that his job is to be an Avenger, but he knows that his real job is at home, taking care of his two girls.

 Eventually the never-ending flight home does indeed end and, after bidding Sam and the rest of their squad goodbye, he climbs into his car and starts the engine. He thinks about shooting her a text letting her know he’s on his way, but the clock on the dash reads four a.m., and he decides it’s best to let her sleep. She’ll more than likely wake up when he crawls into bed next to her anyway since she’s such a light sleeper.

 As the miles pass, his weariness from the mission fades with them, quickly replaced with anticipation. During the war, when his buddies would hang onto the hope of receiving a letter from their sweethearts or wives and once the letter did arrive, keep it close to them, often inside their jacket pressed close against their hearts, he didn’t get it. Sure, there were people at home he missed, and even a few girls he’d had dates with who sent the occasional note, but these guys were so attached to that scrap of paper and the words scrawled across it that they’d read so often, they could recite them at the drop of a hat, and that it just didn’t make sense to him. Well, now it does. Instead of letters, he has texts and voicemails, a few pictures taken over the years of them together (or the occasional snapshot he’s sneaked when she wasn’t paying attention because really, it would be a crime not to capture how perfect she looked right then for all eternity), and most recently, the image of his unborn daughter. Whatever he’s had to do that day, whatever is weighing him down, he knows that it’s all for them, and that makes the load seem bearable.

 Finally, he pulls into his driveway. Killing the engine, he climbs out, leaving his duffle bag full of dirty (and smelly) clothes to be dealt with tomorrow. Right now, he’s on a mission; infiltrate the house quietly, shower covertly, and then crawl into bed with his two girls.

 Parts one and two of his plan go easily enough. He removes his shoes at the door to decrease the chances that she’ll hear his footsteps and takes the stairs agonizingly slowly. The guest bathroom is missing a few key items (like razors; god, he needs a shave), but it has soap and shampoo, so he’s able to shower. The one key element he forgot about is that he doesn’t have any clothes located in this part of the house but, as he tiptoes into their bedroom, he realizes he’s in luck. The closet door is open and- he stifles a chuckle- a pair of his pajamas is laid out on his side of the bed. Looks like she had a vision that he’d be coming home tonight. At least she didn’t wait up.

 After tugging on the bottoms (he disregards the shirt; somehow, they always end up migrating towards the center of the bed, and with her so close to him, he’ll be more than warm enough), he pulls back the covers and eases into bed. Sure enough, she immediately snuggles closer, pressing her back against his chest. He’s not sure if she’s awake until-

 “Welcome home, stranger.” Her voice is rough with sleep, but he can still hear the smile in it.

 “Thanks, Doll. It’s good to be back.” He readjusts his flesh arm to wrap around her waist, his hand instinctively falling to caress the swell of her middle (much larger now than it was four weeks ago), and he’s just about to close his eyes in hopes of getting a few winks when he feels it.

 At first, he thinks he’s imagining things it’s so soft, but then it happens again. A nudge against his palm, harder this time. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s happening, and when he does, he can’t help the shaky breath he exhales against her neck.

 “You okay?” He means to reassure her that he’s fine, but instead what comes out is-

 “She’s moving.” As if in response, he receives another kick.

 “Yeah. She’s saying hello to her dad.” He knew that she was feeling the baby move thanks to a text sent two weeks back, but this is the first time he’s been able to feel it himself. And it’s… unbelievable.

 “Does it hurt you at all, sweetheart? Is it uncomfortable?” She chuckles softly.

 “No, it doesn’t hurt. The only time it’s uncomfortable is if she gets my kidneys, or if I’m trying to sleep.” Which is what she should be doing now.

 Without thinking, he sits up and, leaning over so that his cheek is pressed against the bump, he murmurs,

 “Hey, little miss. This is your Dad. I can’t wait to meet you.” Her hand comes down to cart through his still-damp hair. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk again and you can kick me some more, but right now you need to calm down so your Mom can get some rest. She’s got a big job, looking after me and growing you all at the same time. So why don’t you settle back in and go to sleep, and me and Mom will try to do that too?” He receives one more kick for his efforts and then… stillness.

 “I’m never going to hear the end of this am I? How she already listens to you?”

 He chuckles and eases back down on the bed, pulling her against him once more.

 “Never.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

 “… Mom told me to run, and then took off. Didn’t know if she was crazy or an enemy agent or what, so I ran after her.” The words are barely above a whisper, so quiet that she wonders if she’s still dreaming. However, a stirring in her middle settles the matter. She’s awake. This is real.

 “I know. Looking back on it, I probably didn’t make the best first impression, but cut me some slack. It’s not every day the woman you just walked into thirty seconds ago tells you there’s an ambush waiting for you on the next street up. And you should be glad I chased her down. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” Is he-

 “Not that I’d recommend going up to strange men and saving their lives, Little Miss. It’s a good way for someone to get hurt. Probably not you if Banner’s right about the serum being passed down from parent to child, but still. Not a smart idea.” Yes, it’s exactly what she thought. He’s talking to the baby. “Of course, if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll kick their ass. Or Mom will. One of us. The other one will stage the scene so it looks like an accident. And, that’s probably something I shouldn’t be telling you on the off chance you’re hearing any of this.”

 “She has ears now.” Her voice is hoarse from disuse, and she grimaces at the sound of it. “Week eighteen’s when they start to work. She can hear us.”

 Blue eyes peer up at her, startled, before melting into the familiar, soft expression he usually wears around her. “Hey, Doll. Did I wake you up?”

 Shaking her head, she reaches out, covering his metal hand still resting on her middle, with her own. “No. She did.” As if in reply, there’s a bump against their palms, and a smile spreads across his face.

 “Yeah. I felt her kicking when I woke up, so I thought I’d try to calm her down for you. Looks like it did just the opposite.”

 “No, you succeeded.” With a yawn, she stretches. “Usually she’s ready to rumble at six a.m. This is an improvement.”

 A mock frown crosses Bucky’s face. “Now listen here, Little Miss. There’s a limited amount of driving your mom crazy that can happen in a twenty-four hour period, and since I’ve known her longer, I’ve got seniority. You’re gonna have to dial it back by an hour, thirty minutes at least in the mornings. It’s not a smart idea to piss off your landlady.” Apparently, their little one doesn’t agree. His eyes go wide at the sudden, strong movement. “What-”

 “She rolled over.” And, that brilliant, genuinely happy smile is back

 “That’s…” He searches for the right word. “...amazing.” It is, but if she focuses on it, she’ll start tearing up, and now’s not the time for a hormone-fueled crying jag.

 “She’s usually active in the morning. Settles down after breakfast.”

 He chuckles. “Is that your way of saying you’d like me to get you something to eat?”  Oh, that sounds good. She has some fresh fruit in the refrigerator, but there’s also mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer, and then there’s ramen noodles, which she kind of wants to eat raw for some reason… but no.

 “I’ve got it.” She starts to sit up, but doesn’t get very far before he’s easing her back down.

 “No you don’t. I’m home now, so I can get back to my real job.” Pecking her forehead, he stands. “Taking care of my girls.”

 “Get back here.” It comes out more petulant than she meant it to, which is probably why he pauses just outside the doorway and turns back around to look at her. He didn’t bother with a shirt last night, did he? And those sweatpants… she shakes her head to clear it. “You need your rest.”

 He raises an eyebrow. “I think that’s my line, Doll.”

 How many days worth of scruff is that, she wonders. The last time he’d let it grow out that long was when they were on that mission in Siberia. It was cold as fuck, and even with their enhancements making them more resilient to the weather, when they finally got back to their hotel room that night, they were nearly frozen solid. The heat wasn’t doing a great job, and so the only logical way to stay warm was to completely undress and lie as close as humanly possible in bed under all the blankets they could get their hands on. Of course, naked cuddling usually leads to naked making out, which lead to what is now a very vivid memory of exactly how that stubble felt between her thighs-

 “Which one of us is growing a human right now?” The question snaps her out of her lecherous daydreams. The hormones. That has to be what’s causing this sudden boost in libido.

 Clearing her throat, she shoots back, “Which one of us just spent a month getting shot at?” A month. It’s been a whole month since the last time they did anything in this bed other than sleep. She’s fully capable of getting off by herself, but her fingers are a poor replacement for-

 “Forget it, solnyshka. You’re not gonna win this one. You’re staying in bed. That’s final.” She’d have something to say about him telling her what to do, but that commanding voice… it’s probably best that she stay in bed. At this point, she’s not sure her legs would hold her up.

 “Fine.” It comes out shaky, but it doesn’t appear that he notices.

 “Anything in particular you want?” Yeah, she can think of a few things. “Are you still having food aversions-” Oh. He’s talking about food. “-or has that cleared up?”

 Grabbing hold of her last shred of sanity, she gasps out, “Anything’s fine.”

 He smirks. “Great. Sauerkraut and pickled pig’s feet it is.”

 She’s not sure if she manages a laugh, too busy staring as he walks away. Dammit. She needs to take a few deep breaths, get a hold of herself. With a frustrated groan, she pushes back the covers and climbs out of bed. She needs to splash some cold water on her face. Oh, and pee. She’s constantly peeing.

 The vision hits her just as she’s dabbing her face with a hand towel. He’s leaning over the stove, cooking… are those pancakes? It’s domestic and sweet and infuriatingly, it riles her up even more. Muttering curses in several languages under her breath, she returns to bed and pulls the covers over her head. Maybe if she concentrates on her slight annoyance that he’s cooking shirtless, which is a damn good way to get yourself burned (of course, they heal fast, so it’s not a huge concern), it’ll help her ignore the ache between her thighs.

 Fifteen minutes later when she hears his footsteps on the stairs, she feels like she’s about to spontaneously combust. With a huff, she sits up and attempts to appear normal. As soon as the door opens, she knows it’s a lost cause.

 “Here you go. Pancakes, bacon, and tea.” Setting the tray on the nightstand, he climbs back in bed next to her.

 “Thanks.” It’s nothing out of the ordinary, him leaning towards her, cradling the back of her head with one hand as he kisses her. It’s not unusual for her to wrap her arms around him, nearly pulling him on top of her as she probes his lips with her tongue, begging for entrance. It’s not even odd for the kiss to go from innocent to filthy, his teeth teasing her bottom lip, making her gasp and tug at his hair. What is odd is that, with a chuckle, he pulls away.

 “You’d better eat before it goes cold.”

 Smirking, she hooks the chain holding his dog tags (and his wedding ring, still hidden safely from his mission) around her finger and gives a tug. “You know, there’s this amazing new device called a microwave…”

 His lips curl up into a knowing smirk. “Oh, so that’s what you’re after, huh?”  She feels heat rise to her cheeks as she nods. Luckily, she doesn’t have long to feel embarrassed before his lips are on hers once more.

 She can’t contain her gasp as he pushes aside her panties, fingers trailing over her heat. “Sweetheart, you’re drenched.” A moan escapes her as the tip of one cool, metal finger enters her. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed this earlier? I’d be more than happy to help you out.”  His palm grinds against her clit as, slowly, he begins to thrust his fingers into her.

 Her hand clamps down on his wrist. “Fuck! Bucky-”

 He shushes her, lips trailing wet kisses across her jaw. “Just relax. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

 That’s all well and good, but as he eases a second finger into her, the thin, cotton tshirt that’s covering her upper half feels far too restraining. “Please-” She gasps out. “-don’t tease.”

 “I’m not.” A peck to her nose. “I’m not teasing you.”

 “Yes you-” A shudder passes through her as his fingers nudge against her g-spot. “-you are.”

 A sigh fans over her exposed collar bone. “I don’t want to hurt you, Doll.”

 Gathering all her willpower, she tugs his head down to her level. “James Buchanan Barnes, I am not made of glass. If you don’t get inside of me right now-” A particularly well-aimed thrust of his fingers makes her gasp.

 “Alright.” She suppresses a whimper at the sudden emptiness. “How do you want it?”

 Her gut screams to tell him, “Anything! Just get on with it!” but a lazy movement in her middle jogs her memory. She can’t comfortably be on her back at this point, and it’s been a month, so she wants to see him…

 “I could ride you.” His eyes turn a shade darker at her words, pupils blown with lust.

 “Well, I’m not gonna say no to that.”

 She’s briefly apprehensive as, after kicking off his bottoms, he eases the t-shirt from her body. She looks a lot different than the last time they did this. What if he doesn’t like-

 “Fuck.” His bottom lip slips between his teeth. “Yeah, you’re definitely on top so I can look at you.”  And just like that, any residual fear melts away and she can’t push the final offending garment from her body fast enough.

 Once he’s resting propped up against the headboard, she takes him in her hand, making him hiss, and slowly, carefully, settles on top of him.

 “Oh, fuck.” She’s not sure which one of them moans, too overwhelmed by the sensation of once again, having him inside of her. Finally. Getting used to the feeling, she circles her hips.

 “Shit.” At any other time, she’d make a joke about how desperate he sounds, but right now… grasping his shoulders for leverage, she gives an experimental rock against him… she’s beyond teasing.

 In the beginning, she sets an easy pace, but with one of his hands grasping her hips, the other one trailing over her middle towards her breasts to tease at the swollen flesh, it doesn’t take long until she’s completely lost, moving against him like her life depends on it.

 “That’s it. Take what you need.” She’s not sure if it’s the words or his thump passing over one sensitive nipple that drives her over the edge, but before she can so much as utter a warning, her orgasm crashes over her.

 When she opens her eyes, she realizes that he’s staring at her, awestruck. “That’s the first time you’ve been able to cum without-” Oh. She didn’t realize, but neither of them have so much as brushed a thumb against her clit. Her surprise must show on her face, because he grins. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna have fun with this.”

 After that, she loses count of how many times she hits her peak, too lost in the feeling of their bodies moving together. One of the advantages of the serum is that they both have incredible endurance, but this is different. It’s something primal, a need she didn’t realize she had being met. Finally, after coming down once again, she wilts against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

 “Tired, solnyshka?” She nods, not lifting her head. His chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle, one she doesn’t have time to understand before she’s being lifted off of his cock and placed gently on her side. A whine escapes her at the momentary loss of contact. “Don’t worry, Doll. I’m not going anywhere.” His body curled around her, he eases back into her, making her hum contentedly.

 After doing all the work so far, she can’t help but think to herself that it’s nice to just lay back and let him take her, his hips snapping against hers as his cock nudges against her g-spot.

 “Do you think you’ve got one more for me, Doll?” His voice is gruff with effort. He’s close, she can tell.

 No sooner has she murmured a quiet “yes” than his hand is between her thighs, fingers toying with the bundle of nerves. Her walls contract, and with a strangled cry, he follows her over the edge.

 It takes a few minutes for her to come back to herself, for the murmured words of approval and “I love you”s to have any meaning, but eventually she does recover and, offering him a lazy smile, she whispers, “Welcome home, Barnes.”

#bucky barnes #marvel #the avengers #the winter soldier #captain america #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #smut #fluff #bucky x reader #bucky fic

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary -Chapter 42

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @thunderintheshadows​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Despite the suffocating humidity and sweltering heat, it's a relief to get out of the hotel. She'd spent the last three days confined within the four walls of their room, trying desperately to keep her mind off of not only what happened at McMann's house, but the terrifying consequences that followed. Plagued by incessant worry about the safety and well being of the kids,  waiting on pins and needless for the random and all to brief updates that Ovi would send throughout the day.  And now the torturous minutes and hours before the IRA would get back to them with their decision.  The fates of the McMann kids...and their own...in the hands of the very kind of people that Tyler went into battle against while on the job.  It's a nauseating turn of events; having to put all of your faith and hope into individuals known world wide for the brutal acts.  To trust them to save lives instead of ending them.

Tanis sticks tight to her side. It was the one and only stipulation that she'd had to agree to for a short couple hours of freedom; the other woman could not leave her side, and under no circumstances was she to wander off on her own. Not even if it was only a couple feet away. There was no telling who was a threat now;  with McMann and the Buckmans working together, their reach is incredibly long and they have endless resources and people at their disposal.  If she wanted to get outside and attempt to function as a 'normal' member of society, she had to have protection at all times.  Tanis is pleasant enough;  talkative,  articulate,  educated on a wide variety of subjects that helps keep conversation lively and fresh. Tall and athletically built; broad shoulders and fit, well toned muscles, her blond hair cropped short to her head in a stylish and modern pixie, dazzling green eyes that are constantly taking in the people and the action around them.   She doesn't carry herself with an unabashed cockiness that most Marines do;  her posture is loose instead of rigid,  she smiles often,  she doesn't puff out of her chest in an attempt to intimate anyone that so as much looks in their direction. To the untrained eyed, they'd appear as if they were just two friends out for a day on the town; chatting and laughing, bags of shopping on their arms. But Esme knew the truth. Which the woman is really there.  And she knows that there's gun tucked into a holster on Tanis' right hip, hidden under the baggy white t-shirt she sports. This is a job. Nothing more, nothing less.  Once it's over, they'll each go back to their separate lives. It's the way things have to be; you don't fraternize with the client. All ties cut the moment the job is finished and money has exchanged hands. It's easier that way. No bonds formed, no feelings hurt.

Ovi is an exception to the rule.    He'd needed further protection; he wasn't safe in Mumbai, not with his father in prison, Saju dead, and Asif's associates looking for payback.  And most importantly, he'd needed a chance at a real life. He'd needed to know what it was like to part of a family. To have people that respect and love him. For far too long he'd gone through life being treated like a thing instead of a person, and it had been a difficult adjustment for him. Going from having 'handlers' and paid help to having parent figures and siblings. It had been a struggle for him to adapt; their rules were incredibly lax compared to those that had been placed upon him in Mumbai, but they were still things that were expected of him.  And he'd struggled to go from the rigidly strict to the rather relaxed and casual.  It wasn't just a chance of scenery, but an entirely different change of pace and a way of life.  No private schools, no chauffeurs taking him place to place. He had set curfew but was allowed to have friends; he could go to the mall, take in a movie, hang out a park. He no longer had people hovering over him and dictating his every move. And as much as he'd hated that life...his old life, it had still been hard to not be controlled in such fashion.

It had been good to talk to him that morning. He'd sounded tired, but he was happy. Secured in his ability to keep himself, Chloe and the kids safe. There was no evidence of fear or uncertainty in his voice. The trust that Tyler had placed him had been an enormous ego boost; he was confident, resolved, with no worries about who may be following them or may try to get to the kids. He would handle it. Those were his exact words. Whatever...whoever...came their way, he wasn't the least bit afraid.  A stark change from the slightly immature and self conscious kid that they'd left behind almost two weeks ago.  And it was the first time since Tyler had told her that he'd put Ovi in charge of their kids that she'd felt truly confident in his decision.

“Forgive me for asking this,” Tanis says, as they wander through the main shopping district; sipping smoothies and chatting like old friends. “And I hope I don't come off to personal or sounding rude.”

“I live with five males, I have been asked an obscene amount of personal questions and pretty much heard every possible rude comment under the sun in the past five and a half years,” Esme grins. “I have two four year old's that are obsessed with fart jokes and think the word 'ass' is the funniest thing they've ever heard. Do you know what that's like? That much 'boy' in one house? I mean, my husband has enough testosterone for half the planet, I swear. Never mind adding in his three mini me's and a teenage boy.”

Tanis laughs. “My parents had all girls. I'm the last of five. I thought that was hell to grow up in.”

“Oh don't get me wrong, I would take five girls over one boy any day. My girl has been a walk in the park compared to raising boys. I mean, she's full of attitude and piss and vinegar, but she's been so easy. She picked up everything so quick and she's been always so eager to learn new things. And she's obsessed with cleanliness and tidiness. But the boys? Oh my god. How do they get pee everywhere? Are they not paying attention? Are they waving it around like firehouse? How does it get on the floor, the baseboards and the wall but none in the actual toilet? Ughhh...” she shudders.  “...that's why I won't clean the bathrooms anymore. That's a man's job. So gross.”

“Sounds like there's never a dull moment at your place,” Tanis grins.

“It's a zoo. I'm not even joking. It's mess and it's noise and it's utter chaos. But at the same time, it's awesome. It's our mess and our noise and our chaos. You get used to it. And you miss it when it's gone. This last week and a half has been hell. Not being under the same roof as them. Not being able to hug them and kiss them and tuck them in at night. I complain about the craziness, but I miss it. As weird as that sounds.”

“That doesn't sound weird to me. That sounds pretty normal, actually. This will all be over. This whole nightmare. And we'll get you back home. Where you belong.”

Esme gives a smile of appreciation.  The words have a nice sentiment behind them, but there's still so much that has be done. So much risk involved.  And she tries to push those thoughts out of her mind.  Not wanting to think about what could go wrong, but what will go right. “What did you want to ask me?” she inquires, as she sips at the smoothie in her hand. It's about all she can stomach. If that. Nothing has been staying down despite the anti nausea (and baby safe) medication a local pharmacist had recommended her. It's always been bad; fatigue and all day sickness (never mind just the morning), but it's never been this bad.

“How the hell did you ever wind up with Mark? Because he's a bit of a...”

“Douche canoe?”

“Well I was going to say prick, but douche canoe works too.  I mean, he's my boss and I have to respect while on the clock and in his presence, but what the fuck is his issue? He's a total ass wipe.”

“And this is him being friendly and diplomatic if you can believe that. This is his good and charming side. Wait until you get to meet the rest of him. It's a real treat. To say the least.”

“How did you ever end up with him? You seem so...I don't know...normal...”

Esme laughs. “Don't ever let Tyler hear you say. He can tell you that I am far from normal.”

“Mark is just so...Mark...and you're just so...you.  You're just both so different from one another.  He treats everyone like shit and you seem so welcoming and friendly with people. I find it hard to believe that someone like you would even get mixed up with such a complete and utter tool.”

“He talked a good game when I first met him.  I hadn't been in the Corps for very long. I didn't have much life experience under my belt. And suddenly this older guy showing interest in me. He was mature, charming, he had a very authoritative way about him that was strangely appealing. He was my commanding officer, so there was that whole rush you get when you know you're going against the rules and there will be hell to pay if you get caught.  I was young. Inexperienced. And stupid. So very, very stupid.”

“Is it true he let a stewardess give him a blow job in the plane bathroom on the way back from your honeymoon?”

“Sadly, yes. That's one hundred percent true. I should have just dumped his ass when that happened. Got the marriage annulled. But he swore he'd never do anything like that again and it was just a 'one off' and he got all that kind of behaviour out of his system.  So I believed him. Stupid little naive girl that I was.”

“So it got worse instead of better?”

'Not right away. It got better. And it stayed that way for about eight months and then he just went off the deep end. He'd gotten back from Iraq and was having a hard time with some of the things he saw and heard over there. Which, don't get me wrong. I get.  That shit fucks with your head. There's even things now that still bother me. Images and sounds and smells that come back out of nowhere. But he went right off the reservation.  It's like something inside him snapped and he couldn't hold back his true self any longer.  I should have left right away...the first time he ever hit me...but...” she shrugs.

“People think it's so easy.  That it's as simple as just packing your things and walking out. That it's not. Nothing is ever that simple.”

“You've been through it too?”

Tanis nods. “My ex husband was the exact same. He was a narcissist. And a sociopath. A violent one. I stayed for three years. I lost everything because of him. My friends, my family. They didn't understand why I didn't just walk away. I tried explaining to them that it wasn't that easy, but they didn't get it.”

“People don't if they haven't lived through it themselves,” Esme reasons. “I used to be one of those people. Who used to judge the women for not leaving. Then I became one  of those women. It woke me the hell up right quick, let me tell you.  I put up with his shit for two and a half years.  And in a way, I'm still putting up with that. That crap never leaves you. It stays in the back of your mind. All the horrible things they've said. All the times they've told you that weren't good enough or that no one could ever possibly love you because of how messed up you are, or that someone could never love you the way they do.  You think you've gotten over it, but you haven't. It's always there.”

“And then when you do meet someone and are happy, all those come out and work against you. And you listen to them. And you believe them.”

“Exactly. It's a vicious circle. It's a horrible existence. And it takes someone really strong and really patient to help you deal with all of that.”

“You found that though,” Tanis smile. “Someone like that. You're one of the lucky ones.”

“I have put that man through hell. Or my brain has, I should say. I have snapped and said some horrible, horrible shit to him.  I think about some of the things I've said to him and I want to crawl into a hole and die. Tyler has his issues, don't get me wrong.  He is far from perfect.  But he sure as hell doesn't deserve the things I've said to him. But he sticks around. Shockingly.”

“Because he knows that's not you saying the things you say. He knows it's what you've been through. And he loves you. Anyone can see that. It really burns Mark's ass you know,” Tanis chuckles. “Seeing the two of you together. The one the two of you look at one another.  He can not handle it.”

“That's because he's such a miserable fuck, he expects everyone else to be too.  Can you believe my own mother stayed friends with him? Knowing what he'd put me through? How messed up is that? She loves Mark but hates Tyler because he's the one took me away from my home and forced me stay in Australia and blah blah blah.  That is her sole reasoning for not liking him. Yet Mark is a total sleaze ball who gets off on hitting women and she loves him. “

“She sounds just as messed up as Mark.”

“You think? She's a real piece of work. And now Nik is hooked with him? Of all people that I thought would be smarter than that, it's her. She is far from being a stupid woman. Or a weak one.  Yet she chooses to be with him? Ughhh...” Esme shudders dramatically.  “...if that isn't enough to make me puke, I don't know what is. And believe me, I don't need any extra reasons to puke. Do you have kids?”

“No. But I haven't completely ruled them out. I'm in a good place with my life right now. I've met a pretty good guy. We're taking things slow, but...”

“Zak, right?”

“How'd you...?”

“It's all in the way he looks at you. The way he watches you when you talk. That little smile he has when you walk into the room. It must be a guy thing.  Maybe they're better at expressing it with their faces than they are with their words. Tyler gets so embarrassed if someone brings up 'the look'.  And he tries denying its mere existence, but it's there. Whether he wants to admit it or not. He doesn't like to talk about those things.  But let me just say this, he's not always a hard ass. He's got a soft side to him, and a huge heart. But whatever you do, do not tell him I told you that. He will deny, deny, deny and I'll never hear the end of it.”

“I know Mark's my boss and I should probably watch the things I say out of respect for him, but...”

“No. Speak your mind, girl.  You probably don't have anything to say about him that I haven't said a million times myself.”

“...you really traded up the second time around. Like you went from here...” she holds her hand just below her waist “....to here...” she raises her hand way above her head.  “...and I totally didn't mean that to represent the difference in size, but I guess it's appropriate.  You went from like grade F beef to like Triple grade A.”

“The difference is night and day. In every respect.  And that's what makes thing even more screwed up. Because your brain believed everything some asshole said, so you have no idea how to even let someone love you.  You're so used to being treated like garbage that when a decent guy comes along, you don't know how to deal with him.  You expect the worst, get the best ,and then you don't know what to do with it.”

“So you get scared and push it away,” Tanis concludes.

“Exactly. And believe me, I pushed long and hard for a while. And he refused to budge.  He just tried even harder.  And believe me, there were many times he could have told me to go fuck myself and taken off and he would have had every right to do it. But he never did.  He's a stubborn shit, let me tell you.  Which is probably why he didn't die that day on the bridge in Dhaka. Everything has be on Tyler's terms. It's your way or his way. There is no in between. He has to be in control. I guess he figured he hadn't lost all control yet so why give up?”

Tanis smiles. “Something tells me you had something to do with it to. I mean, you stuck around for a guy you barely knew.”

“Well the sex was amazing and I wasn't ready to let that go yet. I wasn't finished using him for his body yet.”

The other woman laughs at that.

“In all honesty,  I did what I dd because I wanted to. Because it felt like the right thing to do. He was in that mess because of me. Well Ovi, too. But if he hadn't have kept us around, he wouldn't have gotten out of there and not ended up as fucked up as he was. Sometimes I wonder if he regrets it. That he did decide to keep us around. If he wishes he'd listened to Nik and just left us in the street.  I mean, he wouldn't have all the issues that he has now if he had have ditched us.”

“I have a feeling that he never even considered the ditching you guys part.”

“He says he didn't. That it was never an option. But I couldn't really blame him if he thought about it at least once. It's all about survival right? Self preservation? Sometimes the only person you can worry and care about is yourself.”

“It must have been hard. The aftermath. Of Dhaka.”

“It was...” she fidgets with the straw in her drink,  pulling it up, pushing it back down,  trying to find the appropriate words to describe exactly what it had been like. Without completely losing her grip on her own emotions. She's normally a sensitive person to begin with, but now the hormones have decided to cause havoc within her body and even the smallest of dirty looks from someone have her ready to burst into tears.  Just that morning she'd had a meltdown because the mint of the hotel toothpaste was 'too strong'.

“...hard...” she says.  “It was hard. To see someone like that. All the tubes and all the wires and bandages and stitches and what not. He was a mess. He should not have survived that. Even the doctors told me when they took him to surgery when we first got there that they didn't think he'd even get off the table alive.  And he almost didn't. He coded three times. They said if there had been fourth, they wouldn't even have bothered to bring him back. That the lack of oxygen would have led to a catastrophic brain injury.”

It's painful to relive it. Even more painful than those moments on the bridge when she'd fought to keep him alive.  The agonizingly long wait in the OR family are; that bloody and torn tactical vest clutched tightly to her chest. The one that she'd nonsensically tried to scrub clean in one of the public bathrooms because he 'might need it again'. The doom and the gloom that had been in the surgeon's voice and in all the voices of the doctors and specialists that had come and gone through his room in the ICU.  Not one of them believed he would make it. The blood loss was too severe. The damage too great.  He'd never be the man he was before. Maybe not even a fraction of it. And the more they tried to prepare her to say goodbye, the tighter she held on.

“And I know that sounds weird because I'd just met him and there's no way I should have ever felt that strongly about him so soon...” she continues. “...but I can't explain it.  I can't explain what I felt. I just know I felt it. And I wasn't ready to let him go. We had too much to look forward to. Plans we made. We were legitimately going to work at things and see where we really stood in each others lives. If there was more to it than those five days in Dhaka. But we never got the chance. It didn't go the way we wanted it to.”

“But things worked out,” Tanis reasons.  “In the long run.  It might have been what you had planned, but they still worked out. Look how far you guys have come. From that day until now.”

“Yeah, he's still trying to solve everyone else's problems and getting hurt doing it.”

“I don't mean in that way. As in the job.  He made it out of that hospital. Even when all logic and even science said he shouldn't. He survived that and now look.  You're married, you've got amazing kids, one on the way...” she gives a smile, and pats Esme on the tummy. “...it's a great life. Even if doesn't seem that way sometimes.”

“Yeah. It is actually,” she agrees, and then smiles as she lays her own hand on her stomach. It will be a while before her body starts to visibly change. She'd been nearly twenty weeks before even the slightest bit of a bump began to show with Millie.  The twins had shown earlier, obviously. And Declan had just been enormous right from the start.  He was easily going to be over six feet tall by the time he hit his teen years, and probably built like a linebacker.

“Last one?” Tanis asked, nodding down at Esme's stomach.

“Oh hell yeah. This is it. I thought we were done at three. At least we agreed to stop at three. After the twins, we were done. That was it. Declan was a complete and total shock. We were actually using birth control and that kid still made his appearance. So if anything was meant to be, it's him.  And then we decided why not one more , and well,  it happened a lot sooner than we thought it would, but it happened.”

“I like to think things like this happen for a reason,” Tanis says. “Everything says that your Declan shouldn't be here. In the same way that doctors and science and all rational logic say hat Tyler shouldn't be here. But they both are.”

“When you put it that way, maybe I should play the lottery. With those kinds of odds running in my house,”  Esme muses.  “I know how lucky I am. That Tyler even survived. I saw how bad he was; the amount of blood he lost.  He honestly probably should have never made it off the bridge alive.   And sometimes I think it take it for granted that he did.  That I take him for granted.  I'm just so used to him being around that I sometimes forget how close it came to him not being around.”

“I think we're all guilty of that. Taking the people in our lives with granted.  Their presence for granted.”

“Makes me feel like a shitty human when I think about it. All the times where he's annoyed the shit out of me and wish he would go away and leave me alone. What if I wished those things and it happened? What if the last words I ever said to him were awful? If I actually let him walk out the door without telling him I love him. Imagine having to spend the rest of your life with that kind of guilt?”

“It's why we can't let a day go by without telling people how we feel about them,” Tanis says.  “We have to live each day with someone as if it's the last we'll ever spend with them”

****

She's startled to see him when she arrives back at the hotel; there are still two hours before his meeting with McMann and he hadn't planned on returning until after it was over.   So it's a nice surprise...and a huge relief...to see him there lounging in the middle of the middle. Leaning back against the headboard with those long legs stretched out in front of him, his hand clasped at the back of his neck, his eyes closed.   He doesn't respond to the sound of the door opening and closing; not a single muscle twitching throughout his body or in his face. Chest slowly rising and falling with each steady breath he takes. And she ditches her shopping bags and purse in the closet by the door and kicks off her shoes, bare feet against the soft carpet as she wanders further into the room.  The mattress dipping slightly as she climbs onto it,  shuffling on her knees towards him and then climbing into his lap, a knee on either side of him, arms around his torso and head resting on his shoulder.  She closes her own eyes; he's warm and soothing, his body hard and strong, his familiar scent still intoxicating after all these years.. And when she sighs against him he finally moves; turning his face towards hers and pressing a kiss to her forehead, both arms wrapping around her.

“Hi,” she says, voice muffled against the side of his neck.

'Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I'm staying in this room too,” he playfully reminds her.

“You weren't supposed to be back until later.”

“Well I came back early.”

“Why?”

“Because I missed you and wanted to see you.”

He can feel her smile against his throat.  “That's a very good reason,” she declares, a places a kiss to the scar that mars his neck; the one that will forever serve as a reminder to just how close he'd come to ceasing to exist.

“The best reason,” he says, his palm moving in slow, smooth circles in the middle of her back. “Did you eat something?”  He can't help himself; his protective nature is coming out in full force. It's bad enough when it's just her he's worrying about and trying to keep safe, but now there's a baby inside of her and he has twice as much to lose.

“A little bit. What your spawn will let me keep me down.”

“When we get home and we get you into a doctor you can go on that medicine you were on the last time. It helped, yeah? You didn't puke that much with Declan.”

“It was a life saver,” she confirms.  “You smell good.”

“You wouldn't have said that a half an hour ago, trust me.”

“Even on your worst days you don't smell that bad. I kind of like how you smell. Even on your stinky days.”

“You smell good too...” he turns his face towards her, nose against her temple.   “...strawberries?”

“Your favourite.”

“Yeah...” he grins.  “...they are.”

She relaxes against him; the curves of her body soft and supple against firm muscle.  She keeps her eyes closed; unable to look at that scar for too long. Normally it doesn't bother her; it serves as a daily reminder that he is still alive and she is lucky to have him.  But today it hurts; it cuts deep and vicious and she can't bear it.  

“Where were you when you called?” she asks. “Your cell reception sucked.”

“That's why I hung up and sent you a text message instead.”

“Where were you?”

“Just had a team meeting.  With Yaz, Mark, and his guys.  In an industrial park about ten minutes from town.  We didn't want to take the chance that the wrong people saw us all together.”

“Makes sense.”

“Did Mark call you?”

She hears the tension in his voice, feels the way his muscles tighten, how that vein in the side of his throat begins to pulsate. “No. Why? Should he have called?”

“I thought maybe he would. To rat on me.  We sort of got into a thing.”

“Yeah?” she runs her fingernails along his hair line at the nape of his neck. “Did you finally beat his ass?”

“Not as much as I would have liked to, no. I think I broke his nose though.”

“Well considering you could have broken his neck, a broken nose is pretty tame. What did you get into it about?”

“What do you think?”

“Awww baby....”  she pushes her hand through his hair; letting the longer strands on top slip between her fingers. “...were you defending my honour?  My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“I said some things I probably shouldn't have said. But I fucking snapped and it all just came out.  He's just so fucking ignorant and smug and everyone thinks he's this great guy. Which makes me hate him even more. So I lost it. Said some shit I shouldn't have said in front of other people. About you and him.”

“I'm sure whatever you said, he had it coming. So...”

“It wasn't my place to say those things. About you.  I should have just kept my fucking mouth shut. But he just pissed me so bad and...”

“Tyler...” she pulls back to look at him, holding his face in her hands. “...I don't care what you said. It's things that should have been said a long time ago, I'm sure. It's probably things he needed to hear. And if you just so happened to punch him in the face while saying those things...”

“It was an elbow, actually.”

“I'm not going to be upset at you for sticking up for me.  Everything I told you about him...about all the things he did...it was all true. So I don't mind those words being out in the open now.  Maybe now that someone has finally brought them up and holding him accountable for his shit, he'll straighten himself out. You know he's seeing Nik right?”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“It doesn't bother you?”

“I think she can do a hell of a lot better.”

“You don't think it's weird that my ex is doing whatever with your ex?”

“She is not my ex.”

“Well maybe not an ex girlfriend, but she's an ex something.”

“Putting it that way means I have a lot of exes out there.”

“You dirty boy,” she winks at him. “No wonder you know how to do things you do. You have lot of practice under your belt. All those different women in all those different cities. Do you have a score sheet somewhere?”

“It's not that many.  But hey, a man has needs, so...” he shrugs.

“I guess you don't like studying alone that much after all,” she teases, and he gives a scowl and then wraps one arm around waist, lifts her into his chest and then dumps her onto her back in the middle of the bed.  “Is this where you punish me?” she inquires, as he kneels between her thighs and leans over her, a hand on either side of her head, outstretched arms bearing his weight.  “Is there where I get in trouble for being a smart ass?”

Tyler shakes his head, then places a chaste kiss to her lips before sliding down the bed; fingertips gentle as he pulls up the bottom of her t-shirt, pushes down the waistband of her shorts and then presses his lips to her stomach. Where their baby...his baby...is safe and secure. And it's a moment that is so pure and so beautiful...a moment of vulnerability from such a big, strong, brave man...that it brings tears to her eyes.

“Baby...” she reaches down to push his hair out of his eyes.  “...are you okay?”

He nods.

“You don't seem...I don't know...you.”

“I'm fine,” he assures her, giving her that that half frown, half smile that reveals that he is in fact, not fine at all.  And his hands are on her hips as he rests his forehead against her stomach.

“Tyler...” she tugs at his hair, forcing him to look up at her.  “...what's going on? And don't say nothing. Because I can tell there's something happening inside that brain of yours.”

He attempts another smile. This one a little brighter and reassuring. “You know how I get. Right before shit's about to go down.”

“No. This isn't that.  You don't act like this. You're quiet and sullen and broody when you're going into a job. This is different. You're different.”

“I love you,” he says.  “So much. I need you to know that.”

“Tyler...” she frowns. “...what is going on?”

“Say it,” he pleads. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I love you too. You know I do. Tell me what's wrong. I can tell something is wrong.”

“I just wanted you to know that. That I love you. You know, just in case.”

“Don't talk like that.  Please. I don't want to hear you talk like that.”

“There's something I need to do. Something I can't tell you about. It's better that you don't know. I need you to trust me.  That what I'm going to do, I'm doing for you. And the baby.  For our kids.  I don't want you to ask me about it.  Because I can't tell you. It's for your own good. And for mine.”

“Tyler...what...?”

“Just trust me, okay? I need you to trust me. That this is the way things have to be done. I wouldn't do it unless it needed to be done.  Just know that it's for you and my kids.”

“You're scaring me. What's going on?”

“I can't tell you. I'm sorry. I want to tell you. But I can't. I'm so sorry, Esme.”

She see the tears that well in his eyes, hears the emotion that  causes his voice to crack.  “You're going to be okay, right? At least tell me you're going to be okay.”

“I'll be okay,” he promises, pressing one last kiss to her stomach before moving up the bed, once more kneeling between her thighs as he takes her face her hands and kisses her. Long and soft. Heart breakingly sweet.  “I'll be okay.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #chris hemsworth character #extraction #sanctuary

[beneaththetangles]

All Might and the Importance of Rest

We continue our Holy Week series about anime and disability with a guest post by my former editor, Allison Alexander. Her newest work, Super Sick: Making Peace with Chronic Illness, will be available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, The Book Depository, and other major booksellers beginning on April 17th.

-----

“If you’re not busy, you’re doing something wrong.” That seems to be the mantra of the day, where if I told someone I spent the week at home doing nothing, I’d get funny looks. (At least, I would have before COVID-19.)

People wear busyness like a crown and achievements like a mantle. You’re not a “proper” member of society if you’re not contributing in some way. But for me, someone with several chronic illnesses, including severe IBS, recurring nausea, and vulvodynia, sometimes all I can do is rest. You can’t push through when your body is exhausted and you’re out of spoons, or if you do, there are consequences.

In My Hero Academia, protagonist Midorya shouts, “One million percent!” before hitting an enemy, meaning he’s giving the punch his all. He’s trying to push past his limits to defeat a foe more powerful than he is. The math doesn’t work, of course, since one hundred percent is all anyone can give.

With its mantra—“Go beyond! Plus Ultra!”—the show toys with the trope of finding extra strength within yourself. If you’re losing a fight and finding yourself at the end of your powers, just try harder! There’s a whole genre of this kind of anime, called shonen, from where the themes of “believe in yourself/friendship” and “find a hidden well of strength” originate. This idea is prevalent in a lot of American fiction, too, where the hero searches inside themself for the answer and gets an emotional jump-start at a crucial moment. It’s a message I laugh at because there is no extra well of strength in me to find. Once I’m out, I’m out. If I could will myself to have more energy, I wouldn’t; I’d will myself to be completely healed instead.

However, My Hero Academia redeems itself with its characterization of All Might, the world’s Number One Hero and Symbol of Peace. He’s not just the best superhero in the world, he’s the superhero whose very presence has brought villains to their knees and who has ushered the world into veritable peace. All Might is also cripplingly sick; his respiratory system was severely damaged in a previous battle and, at the beginning of the show, he can only manage to keep his hero form for three hours a day. The tall, muscular image that the public knows is reduced to a scrawny, bleary-eyed guy for the rest of the time. The time he can spend in his hero state decreases as the show goes on and All Might stretches himself too thin.

At first, he acknowledges his progressing weakness and his desire to train Midorya as a successor by taking a teaching position at U.A. High, Midorya’s school. But in the episode “Yeah, Just Do Your Best, Iida!” he can’t help himself from stopping crime on the way to work. I understand why he does it—societal pressures, his image, and his desire to do good are all at play here. However, as a result, All Might’s powers are all but depleted when he gets to class, and another teacher has to take over for him while he rests.

Maybe this wouldn’t have been such a big deal if villains hadn’t chosen that day to attack U.A. High.

All Might arrives to the fight a couple episodes later, with only a few minutes of his hero form left to attempt rescuing his students, several of whom are injured. He kicks himself for using up his powers earlier that day.

“I can’t believe all this went down while I was resting,” he says to himself.

All Might pushes himself in the fight to save the students; he “goes beyond” and is able to beat back the enemy with the help of Midorya and friends. But he pays a price. Thereafter, the time he can spend fighting in his superhero form is reduced to fifty minutes.

All Might stopping to help people on his morning commute to work could be considered noble, and, in a way, it is. However, there were other heroes available who could have done what he did. He didn’t need to deplete his powers before getting to his job, which severely hindered his ability to teach, something he had committed to. He prioritized his own image as a hero over training the next generation of heroes. I prioritize my own image over self-care sometimes too. I may not stop to solve crime like All Might, but I overextend myself, which leads to consequences later on.

Why do I push myself so hard? I’m not even fighting crime! It’s not like the hope of the world rests on my scrawny shoulders. But I want to be doing the same things healthy people do. I want to be “normal.” I want to be above normal—PLUS ULTRA!

In the early episodes of My Hero Academia, All Might instructs Midorya to pace himself and only use a small amount of his power because his prodigy could hurt himself by doing more. Midorya doesn’t listen, and injures himself a lot in order to help others.

I’m not surprised that Midorya ignores his mentor’s advice, because All Might doesn’t practice what he preaches. All Might constantly pushes himself too far, sacrificing himself for the people around him. Midorya almost completely destroys his own hands by following his mentor’s path.

If Midorya breaks his body, no matter how noble the cause, he won’t be any good to anybody afterwards. He needs to take care of himself and recognize his limits.

The temptation to push myself is strong, whether it’s because I feel cooped up, needy, guilty, or like a burden. Other times it’s because I want to be there for the people I love; I want to be strong for them when they need me. But sometimes true strength is faithfully counting out your spoons and not going beyond your capacity for the day.

Sometimes true strength is recognizing the importance of rest, and that my worth is not tied to my productivity. All Might is still a valuable human being even without his superhero form. HIs life doesn’t look the same—he has to learn to step back from the fight, to let others step up, to acknowledge his own weaknesses and make time for rest—but he is loved, valued, and appreciated.

It’s frustrating when people expect me to manage things I cannot. It’s worse when I expect those things of myself and am angry when I fail. I’m discovering it’s easier when I offer grace to those people, and when I offer grace to myself. It’s okay if I fail. It’s okay if I can’t do things other people can. It’s okay if I’m weak and I let others be strong.

I feel like I should, somehow, be able to give one million percent, and I feel guilty that I can’t. So I remind myself that my one hundred percent is good enough.

When errands go undone, when chores go unfinished, I tell myself it’s all right. When I cancel plans with friends, when I take a three-hour nap, I forgive myself. When I’m depressed, when I’m exhausted, I give myself a little grace. I figure if I keep doing so, I’ll eventually accept it. I can be unhappy about the number of spoons in my hand, but that doesn’t mean I have to be angry at myself because I can’t hold more. Like All Might, I’m learning to give up my image of strength for a reality that fits my body. I’m giving up the plus ultra life for a more peaceful existence.

=====

About the Author

Allison Alexander is an earthbending Ravenclaw from Hoth who’s more comfortable curling up at home with a video game than venturing out into the wild. As an author, editor, and blogger, Allison aims to make spaces for minority characters in science fiction, fantasy, and pop culture. Also, her favourite character class in Dungeons & Dragons is a bard, so that should tell you everything you need to know about her.

From her home in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada—which she shares with her husband, Jordan—Allison writes books, edits novels, and mentors aspiring authors. Her book, Super Sick: Making Peace with Chronic Illness (Mythos & Ink) details her experiences with chronic illness and analyzes fictional characters who struggle with disabilities. She includes interviews with other chronic sufferers and explores how society values healthiness, doctors don’t always have answers, and faith, friendship, and romance add pressure to already complicated situations.

Super Sick: Making Peace with Chronic Illness is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, The Book Depository, and other major booksellers on April 17, 2020.

#Anime #Christianity #Boku no Hero Academia #My Hero Academia #All Might #Toshinori Yagi #Izuku Midoriya #Holy Week #Disability #Chronic Illness #Rest #Easter #Guest Posts #Author: Allison Alexander

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Just Another Soldier Chapter 7

Yon-Rogg x reader

Summary:  Post-snap

Word Count: 1621

A/N: Okay, this was written before Endgame came out, so it was just me speculating. I might eventually branch off and write another that follows the plot for real, but this one IS NOT CANON COMPLIANT IN THE SLIGHTEST. Also, since it was written before, it’s got no spoilers, but I doubt anyone that cares has still not seen it by the time this goes live. ALSO, as usual, this is all I’ve got for the time being on this one (as of 28 May 2019), and I’m not actively planning more. Later down the line I might add to it, so check the Masterlist if you’re reading it a decent amount of time after the listed date, but as of that date, I’ve got nothing to add to this.

“We’re going to need backup if we’re going to make this plan work,” Steve was saying. What remained of the Avengers after the snap—Carol and Nebula included—were gathered in the meeting room. “We need an army strong enough to act as a distraction. Anyone got any ideas?”

Carol was the first to speak up. “I might have a couple strings I can pull, but I don’t know if they made it through.”

“Find out. Right now, I don’t care where they come from.”

“Enemy of my enemy …” Scott muttered.

“Exactly.”

It was a matter of hours once Carol sent her messages and already there were two simultaneous proximity alerts announcing two arrivals. The others were resting, but Steve and Carol stepped outside to greet the two ships.

A skrull left his ship first.

“Steve, this is Talos. He’s an old friend.”

“What’s this I hear about you planning on attacking Thanos?” the alien smiled. “It’s good to see you, Carol.”

“You too,” she replied, happily hugging her friend. “Your family?”

“All safe. We all escaped alive, surprisingly. Many others were not that lucky. That’s why I’m here.”

“Thank you for coming,” Steve said earnestly.

“Of course.” Talos glanced over his shoulder at the other ship. “Am I mistaken, or is that a Kree vessel?”

“It is,” Carol’s voice was noticeably on-edge. “You’ll want to get behind me when they come out. Just in case. I’m not sure who it was that picked up my call.”

“Oh, now that’s just delightful.” The hatch of the other hip hissed as it started opening, so he moved as instructed. “I’ve got a ten-man squad in my ship, by the way.”

“That’s gr—” Carol cut herself off at the sight of the person that was descending the ramp. “Oh, no . . .”

It was Y/N. Or rather, it looked more like the ghost of Y/N. Her once practically glowing emerald suit was dulled by scorch marks and scuffs. Old bloodstains that hadn’t been cleaned surrounded tears in places like the abdomen and left leg.

I really hope she isn’t hurt, Carol thought.

The most striking feature, however, was her face. The warrior captain was pale, her eyes red and tired. Memories of that conversation Carol had eavesdropped on danced around her mind. Back then, Y/N had said she’d never seen her husband look so tired. Now, it seemed it was her turn.

“Y/N …” Carol breathed.

“Vers,” the woman greeted stiffly.

Carol didn’t bother to correct her old friend. “What happened?”

“I think you can guess. He didn’t make it, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. I just woke up to a bed full of dust.”

Steve winced upon hearing that. He knew nothing about this beaten-looking stranger, but he knew how it felt to watch his best friend vanish. Just waking to that … The pain would be unimaginable. He could infer that this mystery man was someone both females knew, but this woman was obviously involved with him romantically.

“Thank you for coming despite … everything, I guess.”

Talos wanted to make a remark about how this woman was Kree—a ruthless one at that he’d learned from the one time they’d crossed paths on the battlefield—but it was clear that she was still mourning. As vicious as her kind could be, no one in the universe had deserved the fate bestowed upon them by the Titan.

Cold, Y/E/C eyes met Carol’s. “I just want my husband back.”

That was all the prompting Carol needed to jog forward and hug her friend. “We’ll bring him back. Him and everyone else.”

The soldier met Talos’ eyes over Carol’s shoulder. Worry lanced through his heart for an instant before the woman nodded. It was a clear sign between the old soldiers that they would find no enemy this day. He solemnly returned the gesture.

“Let’s head inside,” Steve announced once the moment passed. “Talos, bring your troops. Everyone needs to meet to make this plan work.”

It was the night before they put phase one of the plan into action, and of course Steve couldn’t sleep. And from his ensuing wandering around the base, it looked like not many people could. Clint was holed up in the air vents, Natasha in the gym, Tony and Rhodes were in the shop with Banner. Steve could almost believe it was a normal night. If not for the hollow feeling that haunted almost everyone in the building, that is.

So really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise when he stumbled across a certain Kree captain on the room, standing by the railing and looking up at the stars.

“Couldn’t sleep?” The words left his mouth before he thought about how cliché they were.

She didn’t seem to mind, though. “No.”

He took up the place next to her. “It’s still amazing to think that you guys came from up there,” the man from another time admitted, eyes gazing up at the stars in wonder.

“I suppose it would be impressive around here,” she mused. “Where I’m from it’s pretty standard.”

“Where are you from?”

“A Kree colony at first. Descended from Asgardians somewhere up in the family tree … Moved to Hala after the colony was destroyed. Called it home ever since.”

Steve chuckled. “Descended from Asgardians, huh? That have anything to do with Carol telling me she could never beat you in a spar?”

Y/N actually laughed. “Maybe, but don’t tell her that. Got to keep some of the mystery somehow. At least, that’s what my husband used to say.”

“Would it be rude if I asked you about him? He’s obviously important to you.”

“It’s fine. We’d just celebrated our 34th anniversary he week before it happened. Known each other since we were fifteen …”

Old memories started to play behind her eyelids. That time on Volda, that first spar, even all the times Vers had woken them early itching for a fight. The one that stuck out however was the time he proposed.

They’d been on leave on a war, frosted planet she couldn’t recall the name of not long after finally finishing their time on Volda. She’d complained that she wanted to enjoy the local sun’s warmth after all that time in the cold and mud, so they spent part of the day dozing on the cabin’s porch.

At some point, she ended up lying with her head in his lap as he watched the local fauna walk by obliviously. The yellow sunlight made his hair appear almost blond, and made those golden eyes practically glow. “This is perfect,” she’d murmured, hand squeezing the one he had resting on her stomach.

He inhaled as if to say something as he looked down at her and seemingly cut himself off. One of those smiles that only lasts a second but leaves the corners of the lips quirked up for hours flitted across his face. “Yes, it is.” The love in those molten eyes could not be mistaken as anything else. “Have you ever thought about marriage?”

She shook her head, having an inkling of where he was going with this. “Not really. You know as well as I that it’s not exactly the norm for soldiers.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. “Well, what would you say if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?”

“I think I’d have to ask you to marry me.” She sat up as she spoke, eyes never leaving his as she moved to straddle his legs.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“Yon-Rogg, will you—” She was cut off by his lips meeting hers. The scruff of his beard scratched at her skin as they kissed.

“Of course I will,” came his reply hours later once they were snuggled together under the large bed’s plush covers.

She pressed a sleepy kiss to his shoulder. “Good.”

The memory ended, and she opened her eyes, returning to the present where Steve was still standing quietly beside her. “Sorry,” she apologized quietly.

“It’s not a problem. My best friend was lost … I’d just gotten him back … He was the only one I knew back before I went into the ice.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” she tried to joke. The smile was half-hearted, but he appreciated the effort.

“Deal.”

Steve was the first to fish out a couple pictures of his best friend. One was old. Black-and-whit old. And it showed a rather handsome man in a military uniform. The other was clearly new. Crystal clear, full color. It showed the same man, this time tired around the eyes and scruffier, with longer hair. “James Buchanan Barnes. Pulled me out of so many fights when we were kids. Hydra, real bad guys, took him and made him a weapon. I just got him back. He was recovering before Thanos came.”

“Handsome guy.”

“Easy now,” Steve chuckled. “You’re a married woman.”

“Speaking of,” with that, she used her suit’s computer to display a hologram of her husband. It hurt, looking at the three-dimensional rendering of him standing there proudly in his uniform. The photo had been taken a handful of days before the snap; he’d just gotten a promotion. Mischief sparkled in those golden eyes even in the hologram, and a smirk pulled at his lips. She hadn’t looked at the photo since she woke up without him, covered in his remains. She couldn’t bare to. Even now, she felt nausea creeping through her very being, forcing her to close the image after a few moments. “Sorry, I can’t—”

Steve seemed to understand. He gently squeezed her shoulder in solidarity. “Handsome guy.”

She could only fight back a sob.

#yon-rogg x reader #yon rogg x reader #yon rogg imagine #yon-rogg imagine #Captain Marvel imagine #reader insert

[guylty]

How quickly time flies. If Besotted hadn’t reminded me in the comments, I would’ve completely forgotten that I had a last episode of The Impressionists to catch up with. Forgetting the Re-Watch is symptomatic. I may have enjoyed the show, and the wide smiles that Armitage was allowed to brighten the screen with were certainly welcome, but somehow this mini-series was never – and never will be – my favourite of Richard’s works.

It’s not *all* because of the wig and look of Claude Monet. *That* is easily balanced out by the wide smiles! My lukewarm feelings about this mini-series has more to do with my general lack of enthusiasm for impressionism. I fully appreciate the importance of this arts movement for the development of painting and art in general, and I understand the impressionists’ value. In many case I actually do find their paintings particularly evocative, beautiful and touching. I guess, my problem with them is that they have become too popular – which usually makes me turn away from something. That’s unfair – but unfortunately true. But I totally concede that – particularly Monet’s – Impressionist paintings are incredibly beautiful.

Quick Summary

We pick up again in episode 3 of TI with the group celebrating Edouard Manet’s formal recognition as an artist after he has been awarded the Légion d’Honneur. However, Manet is suffering from syphilis and his health deteriorates. He dies in 1883. Monet, OTOH, is living with Alice Hochedé after his wife’s death. The two of them become a couple, marry and eventually settle in Giverny. Monet develops his serial painting technique, always following the changing light.

A large part of this episode is taken up with the life and travails of Paul Cézanne who is seen as a revolutionary new painter by the impressionists. Despite an affluent background, he lives in poverty with his working class wife and illegitimate son. First shunned by the art world, Cézanne’s genius is eventually recognised and he joins the Impressionists as the most celebrated painters in the world. They overcame all the obstacles and changed painting – and art – forever. So much for the summary of episode 3.  

Beards and Hair

I was quite amused in this episode about the changing hairstyles of Claude Monet. Starting out with short hair and a pipe, the next scene in a café he had long hair again. Continuity was a bit lax there, I thought 😂. But at least we could see that RA really knew how to smoke. Yep, as an ex-smoker (almost 6 months to the day) I notice such things. – Eventually the episode settled into short hair for Claude. And I couldn’t help but feel reminded of my personal hero Leon Trotzky…

Tenuous. I know. But fun. Right down to the left eyebrow.

However, let’s stay quickly with the look – ok, I am a not a fan of facial shrubbery at all, and particularly not these kind of standalone shrubs on upper lip and chin. If there has to be facial hair, give me a full blown meadow that covers all (beard) or stay with the manicured lawn aka stubble. Looking at the overgrown goatee on Richard’s chin, however, I am wondering whether it is actually his own. Not only because he has always been so proud of his fast growth and thus the conclusion lies near. No, but also because of the tell-tale triangle underneath his lower lip. Mr Armitage has, indeed, a rather pretty beard-growth pattern (see evidence on right).

Elder statesman or ill-fitting wig?

I was quite taken with the elder statesman look he was given in the latter part of the episode, once Monet had settled down with Alice and concentrated on creating Giverny as his inspirational garden. (I don’t really think that Richard has an old man’s face, yet, though, so I finally was reconciled with Julian Glover playing Monet senior in the framework plot.) In fact, I found myself fascinated by the grey temples and the short hair, and I kept screen-shooting.

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I also enjoyed that his eye crinkles came into play…

Things I Loved

As always, Richard – even considerably younger and less experienced than today – was a pleasure to watch. I loved the scenes where he glowed with enthusiasm, happiness and lust for life, smiling widely with glowing teeth. But I especially liked the scenes where you could hear him laugh. It really doesn’t happen very often at all that you can hear Richard Armitage laugh in one of his roles. He is the go-to man for scowling (Guy of Gisborne, John Thornton), growling (Francis Dolarhyde, Thorin Oakenshield) and frowning (John Porter, Daniel Miller). And yet his laugh is an absolute joy. In German we call his kind of laugh “gurgling” – but that doesn’t quite hit it in English. What I like about it is not what it looks like (although I believe that *every* laugh looks beautiful), but what it sounds like. Reminder:

That’s what he laughed like in his younger years. (I think his laugh now has become slightly deeper, more baritone, whereas it sounded more tenor way back in the early 2000s.) And it is infectious. Bookmark and keep near for any rainy day. It definitely works.

Ok, moving on. The old fogey in me also quite enjoyed the mature-lovestory-section of this episode. We were discussing it somewhere in the comments, I believe, and the series didn’t really get into it, but there are suspicions that Monet and Alice Hoschedé started their relationship even before she split with her husband and moved in with the Monets. Her youngest child may even have been by Monet. In that sense, it was lovely that the series spent a little time with Monet’s and Alice’s relationship. I wasn’t quite convinced by Richard’s choice to play Monet as out of breath as if he had just raced a marathon when he catches Alice in the garden and proposes. But this completely balanced everything out:

Why yes, Mr Thornton, I am coming home with you.

Not to mention this:

Gorgeous crinkles, like arrows pointing at happy eyes.

Ok, bonus for the romantics among you:

Yeah, man, this was such a clean show, it almost seemed as if it was made for school TV. You know what I mean? Your history/art/literature teacher wheeling in the big TV and the VCR, and then you’d sit through an hour of veritable and highly educational but mindnumbingly clean-and-boring docudrama? Well, to be suitable for teenagers, no tit may be shown, no mention of sex may be made and no tongue may be used. 😂

And Where It Went Wrong For Me

And maybe that is what ultimately irked me about this show, or what prevented me from saying ” I love Love LOVE The Impressionists!!” It’s not that I need sex in every TV show to keep me engaged. And I am a big fan of contextualising history and presenting it in a way that the viewers can relate to. In that sense it was great that this mini-series made an attempt at showing the personal sacrifices all those pioneering painters had to make in order to succeed with their art. From losing Bazille in the war, via Manet’s syphilis, Degas’ eye illness and declining fortunes, to the overwhelming poverty of Monet and Cézanne, TÍ  is not simply a list of artistic milestones in the painters’ lives, but a look at how they progress as painters as well as men. And herein may also be the problem for me – I never fully committed to the show, and maybe so because of the lack of women in the narrative. Don’t get me wrong – of course I “saw” Camille and Alice, and Mme Manet, Mme Cézanne and various models. But that’s exactly it, “various models”. Sure, you don’t have to explain to me that the 19th century was still a time dominated by men. But that doesn’t mean that in their private lives, men were uninfluenced (and untouched) by women. Or that women artists did not exist or not contribute to the development of art. Berthe Morisot and Eva Gonzalez were part of the impressionist set – they don’t even turn up in passing in this series. The wives and women remain in their traditional role as nurturer, house-keeper and mothers.

Women. Reduced to nurturers and parasol-bearers?

(Left-field thought: Maybe it is also because this show was made in 2006 that women aren’t represented more prominently?) And all that may also be due to the limited amount of time available (3 hours) for a group of painters. In fairness, it would’ve been impossible to depict the lives and times of the impressionists in detail, and hence also a number of *male* protagonists of the movement (Pissarro? Gauguin? Sisley? Matisse?) had to be left out in order to contain the show. However, for me the whole show remained somewhat one-dimensional.

The Disclaimer

For fans of Richard Armitage, however, TI is definitely a worth-while show to watch. The smiles, the laugh, and the mannerisms that are just delightful to recognise. From Richard’s insistent innovative use of his teeth, to delicate hand movements and holding his head at *that* characteristic angle, there are certain “trademarks” in his acting repertoire that superfans such as us have no trouble identifying.

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And Richard convincingly acts emotions and draws the audience into the emotional world of the sensitive artist.

Lastly I want to commend the mini series for producing beautiful images. I loved the wide shots especially because they illustrated so clearly what the impressionists were after.

These shots play with the impressionists’ emphasis of depicting the *moment*, pinpointing the changeability of art, and the transience of life. The impressionists’ penchant for working plein air is ideally illustrated here. And the series is obviously also conscious of depicting movement rather than static subjects, and the different qualities of light – during the day, the seasons, inside and outside, in rain, sun or locomotive steam – as these are impressionist characteristics that are often also attributed to film (and photography). In that sense the series puts the theory into practice.

Last note: Just as I was watching episode 3 of TI, the news came through that a Monet painting has set a new record price for works by the artist. From the “haystack” series of paintings, the picture was sold for $110m in New York. An indication of how *right* the impressionists were.

I finish with a quote by Berthe Morisot, of all people.

It is important to express oneself… provided the feelings are real and are taken from your own experience.

The impressionist painters did that beautifully, and showed us that it can be done and *should* be done. No one better to portray “real” feelings than Richard. And I am always happy to see how he expresses them.

    Re-Watching The Impressionists [part 3] – Finale How quickly time flies. If Besotted hadn't reminded me in the comments, I would've completely forgotten that I had a last episode of 

#Claude Monet #Re-Watch #Richard Armitage

[thehivemindwrites]

A  Series of Disconnected Thoughts, Cast into the Void in No Particular Order

1. I’ve been finding myself thinking more and more about Kill Six Billion Demons recently. Not just because it’s absolutely gorgeous artwork and Moebius-meets-prog-metal stylings are extremely my shit (KSBD is responsible for adding Gojira to my rotation of workout music, and that alone has me in its debt), but because I can really appreciate a main character who is a walking disaster coming to some kind of enlightenment through a combination of getting her ass handed to her repeatedly, making questionable decisions, and basically just deciding to struggle forwards because I don’t know, what the fuck else is there to do? It’s hardly original (see: basically any shounen about The Power of Friendship and Not Giving Up) but damn if the presentation of it in this particular case isn’t particularly delightful. Plus it gave us the image of a giant hulking demon wearing a jacket that says KILL BOSS and that’s rad.The creator of KSBD is also co-creator, as it happens, of the newly released Lancer TTRPG, which I backed on Kickstarter and will, one day, get a rad fucking hardcover copy of (but for now I’m reading through the pdf and swearing oaths that one day I will play it). Anyway, as someone who also got where he is through a series of questionable decisions and getting his ass handed to him by life in general (oh, and an enormous amount of luck), I can relate. Plus the phrase “Reach heaven through violence,” while kind of terrible on the surface, feels good to shout at yourself while you’re off for a run. 

2. Part of this whole exercise thing - a side-effect of it, if you wanna call it that - is that generally I feel better about myself like in general. I’ve mentioned that before. What it doesn’t do, of course, is magically mean that I’m now 100% good and not still dogged by a persistent sense of self-loathing that I’ve just had to accept will never really go away. Like for example: I’ve lost 35 kg since starting this whole gym thing, except you might remember the goal was 40. I still haven’t hit that goal, and frankly I’ve spent the last like three months bouncing around the same like, 3 kg zone because I’ve been traveling a lot and that basically fucks up my workout and eating routine. It’s frustrating, and it sure does let the part of me that knows deep down that I’m a fat fucker and always will be no matter what I do run wild from time to time. Which is, I’m coming to understand, just gonna always be there. This stuff doesn’t go away! Ever! 

Which doesn’t mean it’s right, even a little. You tune it out and throw yourself into battle with it over and over again. You get bloodied and broken and claw back and then you get bloodied and broken some more. Insert that gif from Princess Bride of Westly saying LIFE IS PAIN, HIGHNESS here. Thing is, there’s something about the struggle that’s nice. I am not sure how motivated I’d be to do anything if part of it wasn’t motivated by the desire to prove my dumb brain wrong about, uh, me. If I wasn’t fighting the various little demons that plague me every so often, I doubt I’d be so well-adjusted. I certainly wouldn’t be mentally healthy. None of this makes sense as I read it back, of course - it sounds like I’m saying “boy it’s nice to be miserable,” which isn’t true. Being miserable sucks shit! I don’t recommend it! But it is nice to see misery coming and punch it in the face (metaphorically speaking). Sometimes I think the thing that makes me go to the gym and work so hard (this sounds like I’m bragging, but I can assure you I’m not - “work so hard” means “not collapse and fall off the elliptical after five minutes because oh god I don’t want to be here”) is out of some desire for self-annihilation through pushing myself past my physical limits. Reach heaven through violence (see, I told you it sounded cool).

3. The world has gotten really fucking bad for a lot of people, and I don’t know that it will get better for them any time soon. In fact, given the latest talk from the ol’ UN Climate Change report, it’s gonna get even worse. I would very much prefer that were not the case! It’s motivation enough to get out and vote and shit, at least for me - and as someone who is, you know, ridiculously privileged, that’s the absolute least I can do. Which is why I try to do more, mostly involving donating money to causes that seem like they’re able to cause the sort of trouble that needs to be caused. Or just use expertise to protect the people I don’t know how to protect, because I’m a lot of things, and one of them happens to be smart enough to know that I don’t know shit. So I make sure people that do know shit have the money they need. Pretty straightforward, I think. 

The other thing I try to do, because giving money isn’t really something I think about much at all (I’m stupidly fucking fortunate to have a job that pays well, remember), is occasionally go out and actually be present at protests and the like - there are a lot of climate protests and they’re all a good time. Occasionally it’s worth overcoming one’s intense social anxiety to do so. Lord knows it’s significantly less of a risk for me to be out shouting at cops than most. 

4. She-Ra might be one of the best shows out there. There’s something nice about a show that both does and does not present a simple world. Yes, the Horde is bad. Like, objectively bad! They do a lot of looting and subjugating and are generally just deeply not chill people.On the other hand, the people who make up the Horde are still people, and I have a lot of time for a show that can manage to humanize its Big Bad Villain whilst still making it very clear they are  still, you know, not good. It’s messy, and complicated, and sad, because sometimes you have to fight people you used to be friends with! Sometimes you have to make the call that hey, we can’t be friends anymore, because I can’t support the things you’re doing anymore. I’ve made that call before - I bet everyone has, at some point (if you haven’t, I’m sure you’ll have to eventually). Fortunately for me, it’s never been that difficult of a choice, if only because the people I had to go against weren’t people I’d known for very long. 

Anyway, that’s part of it - you gotta just cut people out sometimes. There’s more to it though, because the other thing the show believes is that everyone - even the real shitty people - can change. It doesn’t mean everything’s forgiven, and it doesn’t erase all the bad shit, but they can still change. It’s worth changing, even if it isn’t a cure-all. 

So yeah, I like She-Ra a lot. It’s also just well-written, and funny, and it’s a real good time to see a bunch of diverse characters running around having adventures and being fuckin’ rad. Plus, they’ve shown an incredible willingness to completely change the stakes from season to season - the end of season four in particular is  the equivalent of detonating all the things you thought were important. It pulls a bait and switch so ruthless that I might have applauded if I wasn’t so self-conscious about making noise that my neighbors might hear. The combination of season 3 and 4 was a masterclass on raising the stakes and then explaining that actually, you were playing for stakes even higher than you could’ve thought possible. Oh, and the people you thought you could trust were just using you, and hey, what if we got rid of the thing that you’ve more or less defined yourself by for the entire show? Good luck in season five, motherfucker! I’m a fan, is what I’m saying.

6. Work on Vanquisher 2103 continues apace. I mentioned this before, but we’re doing a once-a-month schedule while the holidays and work beat my ass into the ground, and as it turns out I really enjoy taking a full month to write a chapter. It’s a comically slow pace, but it’s working for me and hopefully the fact that the chapters have tended to be a little longer (and allowed me to expand on ideas a little more, and do a little more research here and there) makes it worth the longer wait. I’d like this thing to be good! There’s a part of my brain, again, that will always insist that nobody reads this and it’s bad and I’m fucking up, constantly - that point, at least, is probably accurate. I am writing characters who in theory have life experiences that are very much Not Mine, which involves a lot of reading things from people who would know better than I do. It’s nerve-wracking, and the only thing I am bone-deep certain of is that I’ll fuck up and hopefully y’all will forgive me for fucking up when that happens. I’ll keep reading and refining and eventually maybe it’ll be okay. Hopefully, anyway.

7. I went to Ireland and guys, Ireland is bullshit. I am offended by its gorgeous cliff-sides and open grasslands and heart-rending beauty. The immense friendliness of the people I met and the fact that you can’t sit in a pub without hearing some dude play a jaunty reel on a tin whistle or accordion or something is a personal insult. I was Arthur Dent angrily demanding to know why this bloody fish is so good the whole time.

I cultivated an immense drinking habit while there. I was also approached by a random German tourist who somehow clocked that I could speak German and we shouted about socialism for an hour auf Deutsch. I met some woman from Louisiana and we ended up having drinks a couple nights in a row to talk about traveling in general and Germany in particular, because her ex-husband is German. There were some Swedish retirees who were both very pleased by their country’s social safety net and also depressingly sour about the fact that refugees got cheap dental care - we might have had some harsh words exchanged before more drinks helped smooth over our frank discussion of differing viewpoints. I had to explain American health care to some people from the UK who were surprisingly gung-ho about the idea of privatized medicine until they talked to me (one of them talked about how the UK used to be an Empire and could be again in such a way that made me want to throw things. We did not talk for very long because I couldn’t fuckin’ handle it). These were strangers that I willingly engaged, because I was having an adventure, and I guarantee none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been going to the gym and committed to the idea of proving the voice in my head that tells me I’m an awkward mess that nobody would ever want to talk to in their life wrong (also, let’s be honest, if I hadn’t had several pints of cider at the time). 

By the end of the trip if I heard one more pub singer’s version of Whisky in the Jar though, that I was gonna produce my pistol and fucking shoot myself in the head.

Go to Ireland if you can. If you live there, fuck you how dare you live somewhere that rad.

8. I didn’t have an eighth thing but I’m committed to this “each thing is numbered” bit which means that even the end of this thing has to follow the trope. This is the end of the post where I say “okay bye I’ll be back the next time I get the urge to throw a bunch of highly unpolished ideas out.” 

[amandaoftherosemire]

Sing For Me -- Chapter Thirty-six

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X OFC (Sasha)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, OFC Sasha, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, OFC Zoe, OFC Kat, OFC Maddie, Princess Shuri

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,473

Format: Series (Complete)

Warning: Language, angst.

Summary: Sasha has a dream. Kat does what she has to.

A/N: Not consistent with Marvel canon. I was commanded, in no uncertain terms, to fix what I did in the last chapter. I don’t know if this is exactly what you meant, @suz-123, but I’m working on it! Sometimes I think I do these things just to get you guys to yell at me. 🤷

Banner by: @hellzzzbelle 

Sing For Me Masterlist

Chapter Thirty-five here

Chapter Thirty-six

Sasha opened her eyes to find herself sitting on the front porch of her childhood home. She breathed deep, and the familiar scent of warm hay and cool pine whispered summer. Summer nights at home, at least. It didn’t matter how far she roamed, what other places she called home, this was first and best for her. To her amused chagrin, she had a low-grade urge for a cigarette.

Apparently, it also didn’t seem to matter how long ago she’d given up nicotine, her brain was still throwing temper tantrums over it. When a cigarette appeared between her fore and middle fingers, already smoldering, she shrugged and brought the filter to her lips. She imagined she looked a sight, a grown woman for some reason decked out in a replica Princess Aurora dress, down to the random changing from blue to pink and back again.

The brick and cedar house at her back was typical for its neighborhood, large but not massive, dignified rather than ostentatious. Sasha’s fathers had preferred the elegant and understated. Perhaps that was how she’d ended up so loud and vibrant, her own minor rebellion.

She sat on the railing that bordered the wrap-around porch and looked out across the painfully familiar stretch of green lawn and cheerful flower gardens. Her papa had loved his flowers, the wilder the better, though he had had a soft spot for peonies that he’d recklessly indulged.

Sasha lifted the cigarette between her fingers to chapped lips that ached as she smiled at the image and the memory. How or why her lips were chapped in what amounted to a dream state, or so she hoped, she didn’t know, but she appreciated being able to smoke. She’d broken the habit years ago after a long and brutal battle with herself, but she sometimes still craved it like air.

Her chapped lips were the only evidence of the brutal war she’d been fighting ever since her shield fell, followed by the eternal plummet through nothingness. Her golden skin was perfectly smooth and shone with an almost unreal luster, not a blemish nor a scar to be found. Her hair fell in flawless barrel curls, as though she’d spent hours under the curling iron of the most meticulous of stylists.

Sasha mulled it over as she dragged on the cigarette in her hand, her face pensive, even as she noted in her peripheral vision the presence of the handsome blond giant leaning on the railing next to where she sat.

Magnus Fredriksen raised one thick, blond imperious eyebrow. “That’s a filthy habit.” His voice was a low rumble, his habit of speaking softly yet to the point adding to the overall impression of the kind of strength you could build a foundation upon. That had been an entirely accurate impression.

Sasha took a long pull off the cigarette and hummed happily. “I know, right?” She smiled cheekily at the man next to her. The carved in granite quality of his face had always inspired a little healthy fear; her Dad had been slow to anger but once his temper was provoked it had been a powerful thing.  However, she had long ago learned to push through it to tease. Magnus may have been a sternly intense Scandinavian giant, but she’d always known how to make him laugh. “How bad do you want one?” she asked slyly.

His eyes narrowed dangerously, and she had to hold back the snort of wicked amusement. “Don’t be a bitch,” he groused as he reached out, and as he had done countless times before, grabbed a hank of her hair to tug exactly twice, a gesture of genuine affection mixed with a benign exasperation. With a bittersweet ache in her throat, she thought of her own hand reaching to tug on Zoe's ponytail. She wouldn't be surprised if the look she gave him was the same as the expression of mischievous unrepentance that crossed Zoe's face at such times.

Magnus rolled his eyes and leaned in, hiding his face from the window on the other side of her shoulder. His voice low, he looked around furtively as he muttered, "Give us a drag, then, dammit."

Sasha threw her head back and laughed out loud. She had no idea what was going on and was finding it impossible to care when she was laughing and joking with her dad again. She lifted her hand to her shoulder in a practiced motion, twisting her wrist to put the filter next to her dad's lips. He took a drag and waited for her to do the same so that he could exhale when she did to camouflage the smoke coming out of his mouth. The man had been fearless, except when it came to the disapproval of the love of his life.

"You have never once fooled me with that, you know." Charles O’Dowd had had the driest of voices; everything out of his mouth sounded vaguely sarcastic. When he had wanted to, he could infuse a statement with enough contempt to peel the bark from a redwood. When Sasha had wanted a tone for the word Barnes that would say everything in the shittiest and most insulting way possible, she'd emulated her Papa. She grinned like an idiot at the sly-eyed redhead when he continued, "Sasha, love, what the hell are you wearing?"

As he’d always believed that a good defense is a good offense, Magnus tried to deflect in an attempt to escape the evil eye under which he shrank. "It’s the dress from Sleeping Beauty. Do you have eyes?" Charles merely lifted a skeptical eyebrow over sharp hazel eyes.

Magnus had also believed that discretion was the better part of valor and had steadfastly ignored any reminder that such wisdom came from Shakespeare's famous coward. Without a qualm, and hardly for the first time, he threw his only child under the bus to save his own skin. "Apparently our little girl is playing the damsel in distress."

Though Sasha and Charles shared not one drop of blood, the expression they fixed on Magnus was identical, a testament to the power of nurture over nature as he became the target of amused disdain in stereo.

Sasha's face changed first as the sudden feel of a weight in her palm made her look down. "Huh.” She looked at the object in her hand with both resignation and dismay. "I seem to have acquired a sword.” She looked up, across the lawn to where the quiet street that curved past the house had become a wall of briars steadily climbing upward. She sighed a little, regretful that her rest was at an end. “I'm betting it's for all that."

"There's a storm rolling in, too." Her Papa spoke softly, the dry edge of his voice blunted by the compassion rich in his tone.

Sasha smiled sunnily despite the knowledge that the pain would soon return, but only if she was lucky. "Yeah, but that's my storm. I better go grab it." She hopped down off the rail and stood in the flower bed, a tall and well-built woman in a dress flattering in neither cut nor color(s), a stupidly shiny short sword in her hand. Out over the top of the wall of thorns, she could see a bank of blue-silver clouds rolling speedily in her direction.

Her Dad came around and down the steps to slide his arm around her shoulders. He squeezed gently. "If you're going to make it, you'd better go before those get any thicker. Or sharper." Sasha turned to him with tears in her eyes and smiled.

Her heart breaking all over again, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged tight, burying her face in his chest. She felt her Papa wrap his arms around them both and tried to re-memorize the feeling of being held once more by the first two sets of arms to never let her down.

"I miss you both so much." Sasha's voice was a raspy whisper, her throat thick with the tears that fell unchecked.

Magnus pulled back to look into Sasha's face, Charles releasing them both to move to his husband's side. Her Dad had a lean and ascetic face that prevented his expression from softening much, but his voice was infinitely tender as he answered. "Death is only painful for the living." He smiled sadly, but with a wry quirk to his lips. "But it's brutal."

Sasha hiccupped a laugh and smiled up at him through the tears, her heart breaking all over again. "I'm all about no more pain, but it seems to be the price of admission." She kissed his cheek before pulling out of his arms. "I love you, Dad." She turned to slip her arms around her Papa's waist and hug him tight, kissing his cheek also as she pulled away. "I love you, Papa." When she stepped back, Charles reached out and took Magnus' hand.

Sasha continued to slowly back away, a smile sparkling with both love and tears spreading over her face. For years she had carried with her a final memory of her fathers, one spattered with blood and grief. She soaked in this new image of them to take with her, whole and happy and handfast, the house at their backs, the flowers at their feet.

Before the picture could blur with the tears she struggled to hold back, she blew a kiss, picked up her skirt and turned, sword in hand, to run for the wall of briars. As she ran, tears streaming down her cheeks, she heard her Papa as though he spoke softly in her ear. "You were already Sasha the first time I looked into your eyes. You know it. All you have to do is remember it."

When she reached the briars, she couldn’t help but turn back for one final glimpse. She looked around, astonished to find the house and the men gone. All that remained was an unfamiliar meadow sprinkled with wildflowers and peonies and the whisper on the wind. Do svidanya, Sasha. Ya tyebya lyublyu.

And for the first time since her captivity, the sound of Russian didn't send a chill down her spine. "Ya tozhe tyebya lyublyu, Papa." As she spoke, she turned back to the wall of thorns that separated her from the tempest.

The vines continued to grow unchecked toward the sky. They seemed to have a life of their own as they coiled together, leaving little room to wind through. Determined, she swung the sword back, and on the word Papa, brought it down as hard as she could on the thick branch in front of her, cleaving through it like butter. With a savage grin, she swung the sword back again. She had to get through. Bucky was waiting on the other side.

To her astonishment, Kat felt tears pricking at her eyes as she watched her little sister sob inconsolably. Zoe had her arms wrapped tightly around Bucky's waist as she cried into his sternum. Her voice was muffled, but Kat could hear her crying the words "my fault" over and over again. For his part, Bucky was watching Sasha with devastated eyes, but he was rubbing Zoe's back with his flesh hand and quietly murmuring vague reassurances.

Vague was all he was capable of, his mind blank and reeling as he tried to comfort the sobbing child against the horror in front of him. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't her fault, but he couldn't think beyond this timeless eternity between hope and heartbreak. Shuri flitted back and forth, her motions nearly a blur as she worked tirelessly to start Sasha's heart. Bucky's heart seemed to flit with her, trembling as it followed her every motion. Only her continued determination to keep moving, keep trying held him together.

Kat's eyes were burning with unshed tears as she watched desolation settle onto Bucky's face, as she saw the fear begin to fade into grief. Guilt was crawling up her neck as she stalled, still afraid to trust and hoping Shuri would make the guilt unnecessary.

Her stomach knotting, she noticed Shuri's movements become more frantic, but with no indication of greater success. As she worked ever more feverishly over the still form on the bed, Zoe’s little body shook ever more violently with the force of her sobs. Kat was terrified she knew what Zoe read in Shuri’s mind to make her cry so viciously and the guilt pierced her ever more deeply.

Next to Bucky stood Steve, his ridiculously handsome face crestfallen as the seconds turned to minutes and Sasha still hadn't responded. Natasha was by his side, her hand holding tightly to his as she muttered under her breath, her eyes never leaving Sasha's face. Clint had his arm around Wanda, who seemed to be losing hope as her face was wet with tears.

Those tears broke through Kat's determination to keep her secrets. She had been holding on, desperately hoping Shuri would bring Sasha back without her. If she showed them what she knew, Shuri would be able to deduce the rest and she could not risk that knowledge falling into the hands of those who would exploit it. She didn’t know these people and thus couldn’t trust them.

But she could not let Sasha die, not for any reason. Every morning she'd woken up next to the woman who even now held her hand, she owed to Sasha. If she could claim even a shred of decency, if not courage, she had to try to save her. She looked down at Maddie's face and reminded herself she was trying to deserve this woman. She squeezed Maddie's hand once before letting go to step forward.

The room was silent but for the soft croon of Zoe weeping and the gentle whisper of Bucky's attempts to soothe. When Kat spoke, it cut through the silence like a cleaver and had every eye whipping her way.

"Give me your arm," she said to Bucky as she stepped to his and Zoe's side. He looked at her like she was crazy, his face a study in incredulity. With a roll of her eyes, she snagged his metal bicep in a firm grip and began pulling him forward.

"The hell?" Bucky didn't resist, that tiny flame of hope that still burned inside him glowing a little brighter, but that didn't mean he didn't want an explanation for Kat's sudden spring into action.

Kat didn't answer, having no interest in wasting time on unnecessary information. She had already dithered for far too long. Instead, she spoke only when they were next to Sasha, as she placed Bucky's hand on Sasha's bare shoulder. "Put your metal hand against the nape of her neck."

Zoe, who'd followed in Bucky's wake, gasped a little and Kat wondered what she might see in her mind. When she'd read that particular piece of information in the file, she'd had to laugh despite the chill that had run down her spine. Her blood ran cold at the thought of what Valentin could have done, would have done, had he known he had a mind reader at his mercy.

Bucky didn't hesitate, slipping his hand beneath Sasha's hair to press his palm firmly against her skin. To his astonishment, he could feel three pinpricks of heat against his palm and forefinger and breath caught at what it might mean. When his hand was in place, Kat nodded to Shuri and the kimoyo beads in her hand.

The room itself seemed to hold its breath as Shuri tried to start Sasha's heart one more time.

This time, Bucky felt a song, beautiful and somehow familiar, flow into him just as the monitor registered the beat.

His heart, which seemed to stop when he heard Zoe scream, finally began to beat again, too.

When he looked up from Sasha's face to grin at Shuri, he found the princess had fixed Kat with a serious and implacable look. Kat sighed a little as she replied, though her answer made no sense to Bucky at first.

"Tuned vibranium," she murmured, her voice remorseful if not penitent. "And yes, if you'll allow it, I can probably wake Sasha. But I'll need Zoe's help."

Chapter Thirty-seven here

Taglist:

@marvel-lucy @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @lovely-geek @wantingtobekorra @diinofayce @ashesandfire @suz-123 @theresaskankinmyboot @ddysis @caplansteverogers @getbuckylucky @california-grown @rnr1274 @capandbuck @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @magellan-88 @mizzzpink @curiositywillbethedeathofmee @colie87 @bibliophile1773 @henrietteoaks @hellzzzbelle @same--old-shit @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @rishlo

#bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #sing for me #pantswrites #series wip #angst

[ladysaraholt]

Request for Aid

Hello, mutuals, followers, and my various RP families. Sara’s mun here.

The past several weeks have been incredibly emotional, so if you guys aren’t interested, I’ll add in a break for those who would prefer to scroll past. For those that stay, even a reblog to help share this would be incredibly appreciated...

A few weeks ago, my mother called me to inform me that my grandfather had a heart attack, and that he was staying at the hospital because of built-up fluid in his lungs. Over the course of 48 hours, the doctors ran a myriad selection of tests, which led them to discover that he has End Stage Metastatic cancer in his lungs. After finding it there, they ran more tests to see if it was elsewhere. It was confirmed positive in his lymph nodes, adrenal glands, and bones, with a test pending to confirm whether it was also in his brain. They gave him approximately 6 months to live.

A few days later, my mother called me again, anxious and in tears because he was being so combative with the doctors that his heart rhythm was highly erratic, and exacerbating the fluid that kept building up in his lungs. At this point in time, they were also still waiting on the brain tests for confirmation of cancer presence. Everyone was sitting on pins and needles, hoping he would cooperate long enough to get his first round of chemo-therapy (which the doctors told them would ONLY be for quality of life improvement, not for added longevity).

Three days later, another phone call from my mom in hysterics saying that he had gone home the night before only to take a turn for the worst and get rushed back to the hospital. The particulars were not given to me (though the cancer had been confirmed to also be in parts of his brain), but it was bad enough that she put my dad on a plane from where they live in GA to MI where his parents live.

He ended up staying with my grandparents for six days. By the time he went back home, grandpa was stable and cooperative enough to go back home (for the second time). His first round of chemo was scheduled soon, and everyone was looking optimistic that he would remain with us through his time left in relative comfort.

For four long days, I heard nothing from my parents. I hoped no news was good news, and even managed to keep busy enough at work for the days to go by relatively quickly. Then on Thursday, I received a tearful call from my mom. My grandpa was back in the hospital - his cancer had now spread to his liver. The doctors had - by this point - tentatively shortened his time left to the end of January, and (according to my mom) that was being generous.

After a lot of back and forth conversation, I determined that I wanted to try to have my nuclear family (myself, my husband, and our 8-year-old son) travel to Michigan for Thanksgiving this year to ensure my son would get to spend one more holiday with his great grandfather (which we had done once a year up until this year [we went to Easter family get-together with that side of the family every year until this year - we weren’t able to make it this year]). I agreed to do everything in my power to ensure I’d be able to take time off work to make this trip happen for us, and for my parents, and for my grandparents.

But the fun of that day wasn’t quite over - about an hour after my initial phone call with my mom, she called me back to inform me that the doctors were now giving my grandfather approximately two weeks, give or take a little, to live. The acceleration of his cancer, it seems, had been incredibly aggressive, and they did not expect it to slow down at all. With that in mind, they now planned on stopping all treatment once my grandfather was stable, sending him home, and getting him set up with hospice care to make him as comfortable as possible.

On Sunday, my mom called me to let me know that they got him home and set up, with everything in place. He seemed to be comfortable and stable, for now. The one thing the doctors have reveled at in all of this is that my grandfather’s pain levels have been minimal throughout this ordeal. That alone still gives us hope that he will remain stubborn enough for us all to see one another at Thanksgiving in Michigan.

And this brings us to yesterday. Somehow along all of this, my mother had not been made clear that my intentions were to go to Michigan. Once she heard that was my hopeful plan, she went to see about plane tickets. Thanks to her long-standing good reputation with Delta, she managed to get a quote for the tickets for the three of us: $1100. My mother’s initial offer (knowing that money has been tight for us) was to cover two of the three plane tickets so that we would only need to pay for one. In order to lift some stress from my mother’s shoulders (despite not having a plan in place for it), I offered for us to pay half of the total instead of just for one ticket. While this helped my mother relax, the two hours I spent frantically trying to figure out where to come up with $550 dollars was quickly wearing my nerves away (all while I was at work, too).

On my lunch break, I had to run to Target to pick up a few cleaning supplies for work when my mom called me again. She was getting the plane tickets booked in my ear, while my husband was trying to find a way out of fronting $550 we don’t have in the other ear. I was incredibly hesitant, and vocalized it, only for my mom to stop me. She then informed me that my grandmother - who was infinitely grateful that we were trying to plan to come visit for Thanksgiving - had told my mom to buy the tickets and that the cost was covered. It was more than my heart could take. I broke down in tears, in the middle of the day in a damned Target, trying to think of something to do to pay my grandmother back. She’s been through more than everyone, and yet she was sweeping in to the rescue anyway.

That being said. I am opening emergency commissions for sketchy headshots, jewelry concept art, and handmade scarves. My goal would, ideally, be to make the full $1100 to pay back my grandmother. Regardless of whether my grandfather makes it to Turkey day or not, we will be making the trip to Michigan, and that’s not something I get to do very often (a con to my job, which typically blacks out the months of November and December from any and all holiday travel because it’s the busiest time of the year for us).

If any of the below interests you, please send me a message and we’ll get the particulars figured out. Here’s what I have to offer:

$5-$20 : Jewelry Concept Sketch (traditional artwork)

For those who might have an idea for a canon item their character may or may not carry with them, I can help give your trinket dimension. The more details / complexity, the more this would cost. Can add digital color for an additional $3. Seen below are a mix of requested designs for tumblr and concept art drawn by me at work.

$15-$45 : Character Bust Headshots

While I usually need a faceclaim or inspiration in order to create these, if you have a general idea (or give me creative license based on the info you give me), I can likely create it with little trouble. Line art only takes the least amount of time. Shading is midline. If you want color, I need screenshots / references, and it would be the most expensive. Armor is not something I’m strong at, but I would absolutely try to include some if it is wanted.

$25-$55 : Handmade Scarves

I have a self-taught talent for creating scarves of various sizes and styles. The ruffly scarves are good spring / autumn scarves - lightweight and fashionable - but still provide a light amount of heat retention; they can come in pretty much any color of the rainbow (availability would have to be confirmed, but I do have a bunch here at home already). The thick fluffy scarves (middle image and bottom left image) are a combination of 2-4 yarns interwoven together to create a very warm winter scarf that can either be traditional or infinity-style and provide heavy heat retention; they too can come in myriad colors (subject to availability), but it should be noted that multiple colors are more expensive. I also will put a disclaimer here that I will only provide a scarf to those who confirm they are not sensitive to wool products, as all of these are wool-based.

All payments will be taken via PayPal (which we will discuss via dms), so please be respectful of this.

Thank you for taking the time to read through everything. It means a great deal to me. Any and all small donations are incredibly appreciated (I’ll be trying to put something together for those as well). If you cannot purchase or donate, please help me out by reblogging this to share it. I’ll be reposting a shorter Commission post later this week for proper reblogging, after work is done for the week.

I love and appreciate you all for your time, and hope there is something I can offer to each of you.

(( to my various RP families: @blackbay-wra @holtandthornetradingco @householt @the-wyrmrest-sanctuary ))

#ooc #Sara #emotional stuff #commissions #any help is appreciated

[lachlantrash]

"Would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?"

"Can we please just order out tonight? I really, really don't feel like cooking Sawyer." You complain to your three year old who is very stubbornly requesting mac and cheese for dinner.

"Mac and cheese, mumma. I'll help." Sawyer says, shaking his head no as he tries to get on top of the counter.

"I'm home, and I brought pizza!" Lachlan announces, walking in the house with a box of pizza.

"Yay, pizza!" Sawyer says, running to the front door to wrap his arms around one of Lachlan's legs. Lachlan laughs, dragging Sawyer into the kitchen with the pizza.

"C'mon bub, get off daddy so he can get you some pizza." You say, pulling Sawyer off Lachlan's leg.

"Thanks." Lachlan sighs out, sending you a genuine smile which you try to send back. It's been almost two months since you walked in on Lachlan drunkenly making out with a girl at a friend's party, almost two months of you two pretending nothing is wrong for your son. In reality Lachlan just started sleeping in the same bed as you a week ago, before that he was sleeping on an air mattress on the floor. "Here buddy, go take this to the couch. Mumma and I will join you in two minutes." Lachlan says, ruffling Sawyer's hair as he hands him a plate with a cut up piece of pizza on it.

"Thank you for bringing home pizza after my emergency text. The little man really wanted mac and cheese but I just don't have it in me to cook tonight." You say appreciatively once Sawyer leaves the room, grabbing two more plates for yourself and Lachlan.

"No problem babe, but uh... You and I need to talk at some point about something." Lachlan says awkwardly, making your heart race.

"What do you mean? Talk about what?" You ask, worry obvious in your voice. Your mind immediately drifts off to Lachlan having cheated again, immediately you're thinking he's going to admit to having had that same situation happen with other women and sometimes it led to something more than just making out.

"No babe, (Y/N), no. I didn't cheat on you again, calm down." He says reassuringly. "I hate that I have to say 'again', fuck me... But no, I'm never going to cheat on you again. The first time was a drunken mistake, and now I'm not even drinking at home let alone when we're not at home. But uh, it has to do with the night you walked in with the girl on me..." Lachlan trails off awkwardly.

"What about it?" You ask, not feeling completely reassured with the way Lachlan is approaching whatever he's trying to talk about. You try to busy yourself with putting pizza on the plates you took out.

"It's just that, well, my fans found out. The girl told her friend who happened to watch a lot of my videos... And I guess the girl I was kissing took a photo of her and I together when we were in that room and well, the friend posted it on twitter and my fans are freaking out and tweeting you like crazy and just... I'm sorry." He sighs out, placing his head in his hands.

"Your fans know you cheated on me? They know I stayed with you after you cheated on me?" You ask in a small voice, putting the plates of pizza on the kitchen island.

"They do, but I can clear it all up! I could always say it's an old photo, I could, I could admit to everything, I'll handle it however you want, okay? Please don't just walk out over this though, we've been doing a lot better! Please don't leave me." He says weakly, lifting his head to look at you.

"Okay." You say hesitantly, leaving the kitchen to go sit with Sawyer, grabbing your phone off the charger where it's been sitting almost all day so you can look at some of the tweets you're getting. As soon as you sit on the couch, Sawyer silently pulls himself into your lap with his plate of pizza as he watches an old episode of 'Scooby Doo' that's playing on the television.

With one hand you clutch onto Sawyer, the other scrolling through tweets of people apologizing for what you must be going through, people demanding answers for how you could stay in a relationship with a man cheating on you, people screaming that you need to divorce Lachlan. Tears well up in your eyes that you only let fall silently, no sounds leaving you as you continue reading the constant reminders that your husband couldn't remain loyal to you while in a heightened state.

"(Y/N), you left your pizza in the kitchen." Lachlan laughs nervously, walking into the living room to assess the situation, his face falling when he notices your tears. "Sawyer, sit next to your mom so she can eat." Lachlan suggests as he hands you a plate with a piece of pizza on it, sitting next to you with a space for Sawyer to move into.

"Thanks." You sniffle, rubbing your eyes quickly before locking your phone before returning it to the table beside the couch. You put on a show for the next two hours for your son, acting as though nothing has happened to put a dip in your mood until finally he's fast asleep, letting you be able to talk to Lachlan without any filter.

"I want you to be honest about the whole situation, Lachlan." You say from your closet, the door that connects it to the bedroom open.

"Are you sure? I'll do it if it's what you want, I don't care about my image. I just want to make sure you want everyone knowing." Lachlan asks from the bedroom. You put your clothes in the hamper, grabbing a baggy white t-shirt with a pair of yoga shorts before returning to the bedroom in just your bra and panties.

"Yes, I'm sure. Just do a livestream now and clear it up, I want to wake up to as little tweets about it as possible." You say, looking at Lachlan as you put your clothes on. "I'll do it with you, because I want everyone to hear my side. Hear why I stayed, why I didn't just leave you." You add.

"God, I'm so happy you didn't just leave me. I don't care how long it takes for us to fall asleep cuddling or for you to feel comfortable kissing me daily, I'm just happy you love me enough to let me stay." Lachlan says, laying back in the bed. "Alright, I'll get my laptop set up. You're sure on this?" He asks one more time as he sits up.

"I have to be sure on this, because if I keep reading damn tweets I'm probably gonna start sleeping in Sawyer's room." You say as a joke, though you're not too sure how far from reality the statement actually is.

"Alright, here goes nothing." Lachlan says, throwing a smile to you as you sit beside him in bed. He reaches to the bedside table and grabs his laptop, getting it on before getting a livestream suddenly started on youtube.

"Hi guys... Sorry for no notice on this livestream, but I just need to say some things. Would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?" He asks rhetorically, knowing he's gonna do it anyways. "Yeah, I'm here with my wife, (Y/N)." Lachlan says, letting you wave to the camera as you awkwardly sit in the background.

"So um, guys... I just want to talk about the photo going around... The one of me kissing that girl, y'know, in a bed at a party, a girl that's not my wife." Lachlan starts with a sigh. "I wish it was fake. It's not, it's real and yes it fucked up my home life. But it's almost two months old, it's from a party (Y/N) and I went to. I got wasted, completely fucking wasted. My wife walked into a room to find me, and instead walked in on the live action version of that photo. That photo isn't just a representation of the kind of man, the kind of husband I can be if I have too much alcohol, but it represents the hurt I put (Y/N) through. It's not fair to her for all of you to tag her in it, okay? She's seen it, she walked in on it actually happening, and I promise you she's going through so much pain from it as is. Please, at the very least respect her enough not to add to the pain I'm causing her. Anything you guys do is a reflection on me, please don't make life any harder for her." Lachlan begs, tears already falling from your face as you remember vivid detail of Lachlan's lips moving against hers.

"(Y/N), she um... She wanted to talk to you guys about it... Do you, do you still want to?" Lachlan asks, turning to you with his heart breaking because he wants to reach out and let you cry onto his shoulder, but he knows better than anyone that when you're upset over hurt he's caused, the last thing you want is for him to touch you without you asking.

"Yeah, I do." You say, trying to rid the signs of your hurt from your face before moving Lachlan's laptop so you're in view.

"I'm just gonna ask, please don't bring it up to me again after tonight. I know, I chose to stay with Lachlan after he cheated on me. I'm a shame to women everywhere, I get it. I just want my side to be shown, I want to explain why I'm staying." You sniffle, looking at Lachlan with pleading eyes letting him know you need some help. He responds instantly by coming closer to you, running his hand up and down your back soothingly as he tries to coax you to continue silently.

"I'm married to him. We aren't just fucking around dating, I can't just walk out on him without going through a hell of a legal process. Do any of you know how much work goes into getting a divorce? I couldn't go through that in the state I was in, I don't want to go through it." You say, a small laugh leaving your mouth as you think about the amount of paperwork a lawyer would've wanted you to file while you spent the first three days basically crying in bed.

"Lachlan and I have a son together. A three year old son who is my sunlight on dark days, the boy keeps me moving everyday and helps me get through this in ways nobody else can because he's mine and he's pure. I could never put my son through any pain. If I took Sawyer away from Lachlan, he'd break. He'd be in pain, he'd be crying, and I refuse to let my relationship problems hurt my son. Yeah split custody is a thing, but honestly that would hurt Sawyer too. He'd be wondering why his mumma and daddy don't love each other anymore, and there's no point to any of that when at the end of the day, no matter how hurt I am, I know Lachlan and I still love each other. It sounds stupid, he cheated on me and I know he still loves me." You say, turning to look at Lachlan, whose eyes have not stopped watching you intently.

"And Lachlan, well since that night he's changed. I guess I am stupid because I trust him. He promised me as soon as he realized what he did that he would change. He promised he wouldn't go to parties, he wouldn't drink, and I'd never find him in a compromising situation. Since that night almost two months ago, Lachlan hasn't touched alcohol. I have not once heard him complaining to his buddies about wanting to drink. Hell, I told him to drink at home yet he decided he isn't going to. He has turned down any party besides birthday parties for family and extremely close friends because he doesn't want to risk anything. This man has done nothing but prove how much he regrets that night to me for these past two months, and he's shown me he is going to change. Our marriage, our family is worth more to him than even chancing fucking everything up just to drink at some party. Call me stupid for forgiving him, and if he does it again I'll fully agree with all of you, but right now we're okay. We're moving on from it, please let us." You say, trying not to show any weakness as you speak.

"(Y/N) has done nothing but be the worlds best mom since this has happened. She was already the best mom before this, but since this whole ordeal she's just shown me ten times over how strong she is. Sawyer has no idea her and I are even going through a hiccup, he believes we're fine and it's because of the front (Y/N) puts on to protect that kid. Hell, the only reason you guys didn't find out sooner is because she can pretend everything is fine, she can protect my image because of how loving she is even if she is hurting inside. It's only right if you guys leave her out of any ill thoughts you have. If you really need to share them, feel free to at me or DM me, but if I see anybody else contact my wife over this I will personally block you." Lachlan says, not knowing how to make it clear in any other way that he wants you to be left out of it.

"Yes, I regret doing it and obviously I'm trying to move on from it. (Y/N) had it in her to give me another chance, and yes we're taking it slow right now, but you guys should give me another chance too if you can. Thank you for hearing us out, we're off to bed now." Lachlan says, turning to you. "Anything else to add?" He asks.

"No, bye guys." You sigh, watching Lachlan end the livestream before flopping back into bed.

"Are you okay?" He asks quietly, not sure if you want to talk.

"I'm gonna be okay." You murmur as you hear him shuffling about before finally the lights are out in your room and Lachlan is lying on his back beside you. "Is it okay if for just tonight if I use you as my pillow, just like I used to? Just for tonight we pretend nothing ever happened, we can cuddle again? It's not gonna be a nightly thing, and if you think it's a tease it's fine we don't have to-"

"Shh, yes. Yes, please use me in any way you need to. It doesn't have to be nightly, even if it only happens tonight it's okay. Whatever is going to help you." Lachlan cuts you off, pulling you into him so your head is resting on his chest.

"I still love you, Lachlan." You sigh, secretly relishing in being in his arms again.

"I love you too, (Y/N). Now get some sleep, you deserve it." He says, rubbing his hand up and down your back to ease you into slumber.

#lachlan #lachlan power #lachlan imagine #lachlanpower #lachlanyt #lachlanxreader #lachlan x reader

[imjustthemechanic]

The French Mistake

Part 1/? - A Visitor Part 2/? - The Kulturhistorisk Museum Heist Part 3/? - Cutscene Part 4/? - The Marvel Cinematic Universe Part 5/? - Breathless Part 6/? - Escape at Last Part 7/? - Fox in Socks Part 8/? - Things Go Wrong Part 9/? - Downey and Out Part 10/? - Road Trip Part 11/? - Temptation Part 12/? - An Awful Reunion Part 13/? - Unreality Intrudes Part 14/? - A Call for Help Part 15/? - Loki’s Guests Part 16/? - Stan Lee Cameo Part 17/? - Reassessment Part 18/? - Midnight Invasion Part 19/? - Elevator Fight Part 20/? - Courage Part 21/? - Unwelcome Back Part 22/? - Darkest Hour Part 23/? - They Are Here Part 24/? - The Jet Propulsion Laboratory Part 25/? - Word of God Part 26/? - Avengers Assembled Part 27/? - The Houston Underground Part 28/? - Houston has a Problem Part 29/? - Onward and Upward Part 30/? - The Chi’Tauri Queen Part 31/? - Through the Wormhole Part 32/? - Prisoners Part 33/? - Arm’s Length Part 34/? - A Moment’s Respite Part 35/? - Ravagers to the Rescue Part 36/? - What Happened to Hiddleston Part 37/? - Haven Part 38/? - Steve Has a Terrible Idea Part 39/? - Can’t Be Choosers Part 40/? - Stan Lee Cameo Redux Part 41/? - Shipjacking Part 42/? - The Gauntlet Thrown Part 43/? - The Queen’s Chamber Part 44/? - The Guardians Part 45/? - The Nest Part 46/? - Heroes Part 47/? - Homeward Bound Part 48/? - Loose Ends

Just a few things to tie up - like Johansson’s marriage, how they’re getting back, and what will happen to the tesseract.

A moment later Musa was called away again by a group of astrophysicists, who were hoping she could tell them about her home system.  Steve wasn’t alone for long, though – the next person to approach him was Natasha.  She was now dressed in a pair of jeggings and a shirt with a cartoon bone on it and the words I Found This Humerus.  Next to her was Scarlett Johansson, wearing a blouse and skirt.  Both had washed up and combed their hair, and they looked nearly identical, but Steve immediately recognized which was which.  The two walked differently, Johansson gliding along like a glamour goddess, while Natasha moved with a determined stride that spelled trouble for anybody in her way.

“How’d your checkup go?” Nat asked.

“Nothing but bruises,” Steve assured her.  “If I cracked any bones it was so minor they’ve already knit.”  The bruises would be gone by this time tomorrow.

She smiled.  “Good to be back?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “And possibly just a little more appreciative of how tough I am.”

“Oh, really?”  Nat smirked.  “Does that mean you’re going to start using a parachute?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Nat laughed.  “I’m going to Malibu with Scarlett,” she said.  “We need to patch things up with her husband and daughter, and it’ll be easier to explain if I’m with her.”

That felt like something that had happened weeks ago, and Steve had almost forgotten about it.  Now he groaned.  It was true, they should do something about that, but whatever it was they ended up doing would be very, very unpleasant.  “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked, praying that the answer would be no.

“Probably not a good idea,” said Johansson.  “Romain’s had a bug up his ass about Chris for a while now, and I don’t think he’d want to see your face.”

Steve tried not to show how relieved he was.  “Got it,” he said.  “Text when you arrive, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” said Nat.  “Wouldn’t want you to worry about me.”  She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek goodbye.

Once she was gone, Steve worried he’d be alone again – but it was only a minute or so after Natasha left when Evans came up to him.  He had a few bandages and stitches, but he, too, had washed and shaved and changed his clothes.  With no beard, wearing jeans and a dark blue t-shirt which, thanks to somebody’s sense of humour, had the image of the shield on the front, he looked so much like Steve as Captain America that it was downright eerie.  He came and stood awkwardly facing Steve, hands in his pockets, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how to word it.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked, deciding to take pity and give him an opening.

“Okay,” Evans replied carefully.  “That was a hell of a thing but I… I’ll get over it.”

Steve had heard that phrase before, from people who would very definitely not get over it.  Far too often, he’d been the one speaking it, himself.  “You sure?”

“Yeah,” said Evans.  He sat down on the bench next to Steve.  “My parents are coming to pick me up.  I told them guys, I’m thirty-five, I can buy my own plane ticket, but Mom wouldn’t hear about it.  She actually said, I won’t hear about it, like little old ladies do in cartoons.”  He chuckled.

Steve smiled back.  He was glad he hadn’t called Evans’ parents when he’d been tempted to, but lord, he missed having that kind of loving, unconditional support.   It would have been wonderful to steal just a drop of it, even knowing it was not rightfully his.  Loki really had meant what he’d said – this world was full of everything Steve had ever wanted.  It was just that to get it, Steve would have had to compromise everything he’d ever wanted to be.

“Sorry for freezing up when Musa grabbed me,” Chris added.  “I, um… I have some… I’m good with a script, but actually talking to real people is hard for me sometimes.  I almost turned down playing the role – playing you, I mean.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to be…”

“To be that kind of movie star,” Steve finished for him.  “Bob told me.”

“Yeah.”  Chris nodded.

“What changed your mind?” asked Steve.  Bob had offered an explanation, but he wanted to hear it from Chris Evans himself.

“Well… Captain America,” said Chris, with a shrug and a cockeyed smile.  “You’re everybody’s hero.  You’re… you’re everything I was raised to believe in.  It sounds corny, but all that freedom, equality, and justice stuff, you embody that and you make it look cool. When I post about politics on my twitter I get comments from people who say things like here we see Chris Evans actually being Steve Rogers and it always makes me smile.  I’m proud to stand for that, even if the fame part is kind of terrifying.”

“The fame part is terrifying,” Steve agreed.  “At least you got warned about it.  When I volunteered for the project nobody told me I was going to be a celebrity. Then they dragged me off on that tour with the chorus girls and the posters…” he shook his head.  “And I end up standing there…”

“Wondering how the hell this happened,” Chris grinned. “That’s what I figured you were thinking.  Reading the lines off the back of the shield was my favourite joke in the movie. Anyway.”  He sat up a little straighter.  “My point, which I’m getting to in a roundabout kind of way, is that it’s an honour to meet you in person, even if this is really, really weird.” He held out a hand.

“Thanks,” said Steve, giving him the handshake.  He had to agree – it was weird, but he also felt a sense of kinship with this man. Not just because of what they’d just been through together, but because he realized that Chris Evans must have spent more time thinking about Steve, and trying to understand him, than anybody else he’d ever met.  Which left one rather important question.  “Bob told me about something you said in an interview…” he began.

“Oh, no,” groaned Chris.  “This is about the teams thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Steve said.

Chris spread his hands.  “Well, for one thing, I never thought I’d be having this conversation.  I thought it was all hypothetical.  And I was talking about our world, if there were superheroes here. Our world isn’t run by people who thought nuking New York or approving Project Insight was a good idea.  I mean, sometimes they’re not much better, but they’re not that bad.  I just feel like real superheroes would have to accept limitations and be responsible when they hurt people.  Even if it wasn’t on purpose.”

Steve thought about the pirates… they weren’t nice people, but nor had they asked to get into a fight with the Chi’Tauri.  He wondered how many had died, and supposed he would never know.

“Well, thanks for not getting me killed this week,” Steve said.  “I’m a rotten actor.”

“Same,” Chris agreed.  “I’m the opposite – a good actor, a rotten hero.  Better for you to live your life and me mine, even if yours does sound way cooler.”

Now there was a thought… would Chris Evans find the details of Steve Rogers’ life as tempting as Steve had found his?  He decided not to ask, partly because that would involve admitting how tempted he’d been to call Evans’ parents, but mostly because the whole subject was better left alone.

NASA offered them all dinner in the Space Center cafeteria, which was fortunately not one of the buildings that would have to be torn down from the damage.  Natasha and Scarlett had already gone to Malibu, and Scarlett had texted Chris Evans to let him know they would be staying overnight. Hemsworth also turned down the meal. He hugged everybody, and then left to catch a flight back to his home in Australia.  Most of the other actors who’d come in for the charade were already gone, but Hayley Atwell hung around, as did Bob Downey.  At dinner they all sat together and listened to Hayley tell stories about the props – and people – she’d accidentally broken while filming the Agent Carter TV series.

“I need to watch some of that before I go,” said Steve.  He would probably regret it… but he would regret it more if he didn’t.

“I’ll get you some DVDs,” Hayley promised.  “In fact, take them back with you and show them to Sharon.  I can get confirmation from Emily if you like, but for my own part I’m sure she would want to see them.”

Steve could bet she would.  “That would be great.”

“That gives me an idea…” Bob began, but before he could explain what it was, the conversation was interrupted as Thor and Steve moved aside to make room for Donny Glover and Kevin Farinas, who had come to join them.  Kevin was proudly holding a tablet and a stack of binders, which she dropped on the table in front of her.

“Good news!” she declared.

“Good news?  For us?” asked Steve.

“Careful there,” said Bob.  “He’s an old man.  Too much excitement might give him a heart attack.”  He winked at Steve, looking uncannily like Stark in that moment.

Kevin opened the top binder in the stack and passed around some photographs.  “I’ve been looking at the insides of your spaceship,” she said, “and it looks like their actual device for directing a wormhole runs on very similar principles to my hypothetical one.  Here’s the switches.”  She reached across the table to indicate a particular picture, which Hayley happened to be holding at the moment.  “They’re hidden under the console, probably so the people on board couldn’t mess with them.”

Hayley passed the picture to Steve, and he saw two rows of twelve symbols, one in pink and one in blue.  The symbols themselves were indecipherable to Steve, just messes of intersecting lines.  “What do these mean?” he asked.

“No idea,” said Kevin.  “They’ve called in some cryptography people, but figuring out will probably take longer than it would take to build a new one.”

“How is that good news?” asked Bob.

“I’m getting there,” Kevin informed him.  “Now, as you can see, there are two lines – two ends to the wormhole.  The pink one tells you where you’re starting from, the blue one tells you where you’re going.  If I understand this properly, the ones on the right refer to the specific destination universe, and the ones on the left are your exit point within that universe.  I have no idea how to program it.  The left ones must be a space-time coordinate system of some sort, but I don’t know what their reference point is, while the ones on the right must refer to properties of the target universe, whatever those are.”

“I’m still not seeing the good news,” said Steve.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” asked Kevin.  “Look, they’ve got this thing set up to take them between a chosen point in this universe and their home port in yours.  But if you can change the spatial destination coordinates for your universe to match the ones you leave from in ours, then when you activate it you’ll transfer to the other universe exactly where you left from ours with no programming or linguistic knowledge required!”

That did make sense.  “So we appear over Houston in our universe… and we can fly right out over the Atlantic back to Wakanda,” said Steve.  That would have the bonus that the Leviathan would end up in hands Steve trusted.  He wouldn’t have wanted any other country on Earth trying to reverse-engineer any more Chi’Tauri technology, even the United States.  Wakanda, however, would either destroy it or do good with it, whichever T’Challa decided was best.  “Perfect. Can you have it ready by the time Natasha gets back?”

“Definitely,” said Kevin.  “It seems to remember where it left from, too, so if it doesn’t work the way I think, you can just come back here and we’ll give it some more study.” She picked up her binders again, beaming.  “You know, it sucks that we can’t keep that tesseract things.  With that kind of energy we could explore the whole solar system and then head for Alpha Centauri.”

Steve blinked.

“Yeah, sucks,” Donny agreed cheerfully.  “I’d ask to go with you guys, but my alternate in the Marvel Universe is a guy who finds Spider-Man hanging out in dumpsters, so nah.  But!” he held up a finger.  “Kevin, can you get me into the Star Wars universe?”

They were joking around, so Steve made himself smile as if he were enjoying the conversation. But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Kevin had just said.

#fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanov

[forged-through-trials]

Before we left the city, for what was sure to be a long exodus, I decided to pay one more visit to Mercator at “A Fighting Chance”, to see if he’d made any progress with Mephala’s blade. To my surprise, he’d made quite a bit, actually, producing a number of replicas of amazing quality, in an assortment of dagger, one-handed, and great-sword variants. ...all of which were WAY too expensive for me to actually buy. By the Nine, the great swords were all over twelve-thousand Septims, each! I could buy a house for that kind of dosh! ...but they’re kataaaaanaaaas! I waaaaaaaant theeeeeeem! So I guess I have a new goal in life; to afford one of these magnificent swords. I’ll be sure to add it to the ever-growing list of things I need to do, including the Mobius Strip of; “Fight vampires, get legendary sword, use it to fight vampires.” And hey, since Mercator was done with the sword, he said I could take it back. So... I now once again own this thrice-cursed blade as a reminder of all the innocent blood spilled due to Mephala’s conspiracies. ...yay? That done, Ruin and I vamoosed as quickly as we could. I told Ruin that I had ‘convinced’ Soris to part with the staff with a lot of smooth talk and a little coin, and he seemed to buy it. The trip back was just as unremarkable as the trip there, and after a few hours, we were back in Bravil! First up, was delivering the package we’d picked up, and as fate would have it, I was to deliver it to Aryaire at the Bravil Mages Guild. Perfect, since once I was done, I could turn right around and talk to Kud-Ei about that Recommendation.

Kud-Ei: “You’re back. And you have the staff? Excellent!” Trials: “I hope Ardaline appreciates what I went through for this; having to deal with both a creepy stalker and a crazy hermit.” Kud-Ei: “Your efforts will not go unrewarded. You’ll be granted a glowing recommendation from me, and I’ll even teach you a new spell to sweeten the pot.” Trials: “Oh, sweet, free magic lessons. Lookit me, Ruin, I’m turning into a real mage and stuff.” Ruin: Gave a thoughtful smile and turned to Kud-Ei. “We thank you, madam. May we ask, what is the word around town?” Kud-EI: She paused to ponder that a moment. “Well, have you heard the story of the Loches? Particularly, Aleron Loche, who has gone missing. Poor Ursanne has been beside herself since he disappeared, but hasn’t been able to find anyone willing to help.” Trials: “So that makes at least two people in this town who’re missing that the guards aren’t doing anything about.” I rolled my eyes. “Well, looks like it falls to the Forged-Through-Trials Detective Agency to do the guards’ job for them, again!” Kud-Ei: “With you on the case, I’m sure Aleron is as good as found. “You’ll likely find Ursanne at the chapel. She’s spent most of every day there praying for her husband’s safe return.”

With that tip-off, we made for the chapel. We got a few dirty looks after delivering that package the other day, but I just ignored them and looked for Ursanne Loche, whom we found weeping and praying, as was predicted. Ursanne: “You... I’ve seen you popping in and out of the Fighters and Mages guilds. I’m sorry to impose--” Trials: “Oh, it’s no imposition at all. I’ve heard around town that your husband was in trouble, and helping people is what I do!” Ursanne: “R-really? I’m... not wealthy, you know. I’m not sure I could afford to pay for your help.” Trials: “Hmm... payment is nice, but listening to your story, at least, is something I can offer for free.” Ursanne: “...oh, thank you!” She leaned over, and draped her arms around me, squeezing me dearly in her gratitude. Trials: “Aww, don’t thank me until I actually agree to take the job. So, what’s the whole story?” Ursanne: She drew back and wiped her eyes. “My husband has, well, a gambling problem, you see.” Trials: “Hey, it’s only a problem when you’re losing.” Ursanne: “Oh, he lost, and lost big. Big enough that he started barrowing money from a usurer to cover his losses and place new bets. “Well, doubling down didn’t quite pan out for us, and he ended up owing up to five-hundred gold to a ‘Kurdan gro-Dragol’. Kurdan breathed down our necks about the money for a while, until recently, when he sent for Aleron to meet him at the Lonely Suitor Lodge. My husband hasn’t returned since, and I’m sure Kurdan has something to do with that.” I furrowed my brow pensively at that. Back in Morrowind, I’d know a few slaves who’d gotten themselves into the life due to debts they owed. It was a viscous catch-twenty-two situation; they were in bondage from debt, but as slaves, could never earn the money needed to buy their freedom. For that reason, I had a healthy distrust of loan-sharks. I don’t know if Kurdan had sold Aleron into slavery or not, but that story got my hackles raised. Enough so that I decided right there and then, that even if Ursanne couldn’t pay, I’d take the case. Ursanne: She was visibly shaking. “I fear for my husband’s life. Kurdan isn’t known for his patience. I’m not wealthy, but I’ll find some way to repay your help, just please save my husband.” Trials: I crossed my arms, and gave a nod. “I’ll take the case, Ma’am. I‘ll have your husband back to you in a day or two!”

Ursanne gave us our first lead; the Lonely Suitor Lodge. It was just at the south end of town, so we made there, and asked around within to find Kurdan.

We found the man in his room on the second floor. Trials: “Ho, orc!” Kurdan: “Piss off, lizard!” Trials: “...okay, rude! Jeez, we just wanted to ask you about an ‘Aleron Loche’.” Kurdan: “I don’t know nuffin’, and even I did, I wouldn’t tell you!” Kurdan was evasive, and not too interested in talking, but I readied the spells Kud-Ei had taught me, and with a cast of the two of them, he finally opened up... somewhat. Kurdan: “Alright, maybe I know where Aleron is, and maybe I don’t. Maybe, if you’re willing to do me a little favor, it might loosen my tongue.” Trials: I sighed and grumbled. “Where to, and how many?” Kurdan: “One of my stupid relatives lost a prized family heirloom, the ‘Axe of Dragol’. But I’ve tracked it to Fort Grief, which is on an island in Niben Bay. I want you to go get it back. Do that for me, and I ‘might remember’ what happened to Aleron.” Ruin: “This sounds very suspect. What would happen were we to refuse this request?” Kurdan: “Then Aleron may not be coming home from his... uh, journey, for a very long time. Like, permanently!” Trials: “Yeah, yeah, we get it. So, how’re we getting to Fort Grief?” Kurdan: “I just so happen to have a boat you can take. It’s docked in the water behind A Warlock’s Luck. Now get moving, meat!”

Ruin and I agreed, this request seemed sketchy as all heck. But we were out of options, so we agreed to do Kurdan’s favor. We found the boat just where the orc promised it would be, and after an hour’s ride, we’d arrived at Grief Island. Embarking from the doc, we followed the short trail to the gate that led into the Fort. A nearby leaver opened the gate, and we embarked inside... finding a smear of blood upon the wall that led deeper into the Fort. Oh boy is that a bad omen. I feel like a month ago, I probably would have just turned tail and left without a second thought... but I’d made a promise to Ursanne Loche that I would find her husband and bring him home. Danger or no, we were going in!

Well, that was fast. There’s the man himself, standing right here, as if waiting for us. Aleron: “It appears as though Kurdan has tricked another pair of poor souls with his ‘axe’ story.” Ruin: “...I knew that story was suspect.” Aleron: “That’s right. There is no ‘Axe of Dragol’. It was just a ruse to lure you out here. I fell for the same trick. In my case, he told me if I retrieved the axe, he’d erase my debts. I was such an idiot to believe him.” Trials: “So why has he lured us out here? I’m guessing he’s not going to jump out from behind that pillar with sweetrolls and wine.” Aleron: “You might say that we’re here to play ‘the most dangerous game’.” Trials: “Is that the one where you lay your hand on a table and poke a dagger between your fingers and see how fast you can go?” Aleron: “...” He shook his head. “Uh, no, this is the one where wealthy psychos pay Kurdan to kidnap people so they can be hunted for sport.” Ruin: “...ah, yes, I know this game. Back in Black Mash, we used to call it; ‘Tirdas’, and whoever one got a prize!” Trials: “...by the Nine, Ruin, your old home society sucked.” Ruin: “Why do you think I left?” Trials: “Anyway, Aleron, we have a boat. We can just skip out on this sick game and bounce back to Bravil.” Aleron: “Don’t bother. The door to this place is now locked. The only way to get out is by descending into the Hunter’s Run--the dungeons under Fort Grief--and killing the hunters. One of them will have the key to the door. That’s Kurdan’s rules, and the only way we can ‘win.’“ Trials: I sighed and shrugged. “Can’t we go anywhere without having to leave a trail of bodies??” Aleron: “I wish I could help, but I can’t fight. I’ve never held a weapon before in my life.” Trials: “I’d never held a weapon before until a little over a month ago. Mastery comes surprisingly fast once you understand that the pointy end of the sword goes into the other guy.” Aleron: “...” He turned to Ruin. “You’ll save me, won’t you, Male Argonian?” Ruin: He shrugged and grunted.

Such was our job; to descent into the dungeon, and kill the sickos who came here to kill us for the fun of it. A dark and bloody task, but it’s them or us... and given the choice, I’d rather it be them. Dying hurts, Gentle Reader, and I plan to do as little of it as I possibly can! This was also my first real opportunity to try out the Night-Eye spell I’d worked so hard to master. With a wave of my hand, my eyes tingled, and began to glow in the gloom of this dungeon. And as you can see from the pictographs, the image was nice, bright, sharp, and clear! Now I can actually show off what I get up to in these dives! And can watch me kick some tail in bright, crisp color!

To the left of the entrance was a locked gate. Just beyond, I could see a lever, much like the one that let me into Fort Grief in the first place. The lock was too complex to pick, even with my best tools, so it seemed indeed that my only option was to win the Hunter Run. Just me and Ruin, versus a group of highly practiced loonies. Wish us luck! We’re going to need it.

#the elder scrolls #oblivion #modded #let's play #roleplay #ask blog

[helencottonphotography]

Choosing your Wedding Photographer!

We’ve had lots of enquiries during the beginning of this year, which has been fantastic and lovely to hear about peoples wedding plans. It’s a great feeling when couples choose us as their wedding photographers! So we wanted to look into the process of booking a photographer to identify helpful tips on choosing a photographer. It’s such an important decision, there are so many people that we know who have said that they picked a photographer and regretted it.

So here’s a few helpful tips to lead you into choosing the right photographer(s) for yourselves.

Book Early!

So many people are getting married these days that you need to make sure that you book in early. If you love a particular photographers work it’s best to get in there early, meet up with them and see whether they are available. Unless you’re thinking of getting married on a day in the week then you’ll find it difficult if you’re leaving things till the last minute. Meet Potential Photographers

Don't just fall in love with their work on their website and social media! You need to meet with them to make sure you feel comfortable and confident with them. I always want to meet with our couples to chat about their plans for the big day preferably at the wedding venue. Doing this helps with providing visual ideas of where we think would look great for photographs and gives us an idea of what the couple want from their photography. It also helps that myself and my husband Nick work together as when it comes to the ‘Getting Ready’ photographs, I will meet with the bride and bridesmaids and Nick will meet with the guys, it makes the couple feel comfortable and more at ease having photographs taken by a female & male photographer.

Here are some of the questions you will want to ask your photographers are:

How many weddings have you photographed? What is your favourite part of a Wedding day?

There is a lot of pressure when photographing a wedding. I always believed that weddings would be the area I would avoid in photography as it worried me being under so much pressure. When I met Nick this changed, we absolutely love photographing weddings, we find it such a privilege when we get asked and we enjoy having the involvement in our couples big day! We find our couples are like us, we treat each other as good friends and certainly love keeping in touch. On the wedding day, we try to make sure that any worries and nerves that our couples have disappear, we’re there from the morning 'til the evening and a lot of the time they turn to us for guidance as they know how important their photographs are. We do have a relaxed style but we also know we need to get as many fun shots as possible, these photographs are the lasting memories of your big day!

What do you do about light? 

So this can depend on the time of year your going to get married. During the Autumn/Winter months we lose the light a lot earlier, so when booking your ceremony time you need to consider how much light you will have for the remainder of the day for outside photographs. However, even in the summer you need to remember that you’re going to get a lot of glary sunlight on your guests, so the photographers need to make sure that they have shaded areas in which they are going to take these photographs. Quite often when we meet with our couples at the venue these sort of questions come up about the weather etc and this is a great time to go over the options. For example; "If it’s going to rain consistently where can we take the group photographs etc?" Don’t worry too much about rain, you can always work around this and also make some fun creative shots! Your photographers also should have the correct equipment for the necessary conditions. For example, illuminating a dark church or compensating for bright sunlight. It might be worth finding out what equipment they use?

What is included in your packages?

We've heard of situations where couples have booked their photographers and weren’t aware that there was then a charge for the release of the photographs to be printed by themselves. So make sure you compare and check what is included in their packages and contract. Our packages are quite straight forward, we offer 3 different options where the only difference is the length of time you’d need us for. They all include myself (Helen) and Nick, for the allocated times of your choice, all photographs edited, at least 700 images, all photographs at high resolution on disc or USB. We also do a little slideshow DVD of some of the best photographs and an online gallery where your friends and family can log-in and purchase any prints. We also include any meetings before the wedding day, especially meeting at the venue to go over the time schedule and the ideas of where best to capture group and individual shots.

This leads to our next question...

How many hours of coverage do we get? And is there any charge for overtime?

The specifics with times should always be discussed before the wedding day, so that everyone has everything correct. Quite often we’ll get this checked out with the venue, or confirmed with the wedding co-ordinator whilst we meet for the pre wedding meeting. If people want to change their mind this is fine with us but it’s best to let the photographer know exactly when you want them to stay until. We like to make sure the first dance is photographed and the cake is cut!

How do I pay?

A professional photographer shouldn’t really ask for all payment up front on the first meeting! I’d be pretty weary of this if I came across it. We and most photographers I know ask for a deposit (£100) and the rest of the payment to be paid a month or so before the wedding, it’s either a BACS or cheque payment. We also have an instalments process if that helps with spreading the costs.

How long after the Wedding do we get to see the photographs?

I know what it’s like, you are desperate to see some photographs the following morning, whether it be to remind you of the wonderful day you had or to actually remember some parts of the day! :) One thing I always say to our couples is take 10 minutes to yourselves on the day, as it will go by in a flash, and don't be surprised ladies if you get the wedding blues.... You’ve spent days/months/sometimes years planning for this big day and the photographs are going to be those lasting memories so we know how important it is to see them. We tend to get a preview out within the following week and then taking a month for all the photographs to be fully edited and handed over. If it’s a really busy time we would pre-warn you, but nothing has ever run over 5 weeks.

Do you do wedding albums?

We do supply wedding albums and will always say wait till after the wedding when you have your photographs. It gives you time to decide on how much you want to spend, we also let you chose the photographs you’d like to use. Our average amount of pages is 30-40 pages which can give you from 80-100 photographs, you get to go through the photographs and decide which you would like to use and then send the list to us and we’ll put the design together.

There are so many cover options and styles that this is needed to be clarified at the beginning and then we can put the inside design together for you. Once this is confirmed and you are happy with we’ll get this sent off to print and can take about 3-4 weeks.

Have you ever photographed at my wedding venue?

It quite often helps if a photographer has but it’s not a necessity. Yes they will know the venue inside and out pretty well but I always get really excited if it’s a new venue we’ve not been to before. You’re always going to meet your photographer(s) at the venue before anyway so this is where you’ll discover photo opportunities. You’re not going to know what the light is going to do until the big day so as long as the photographer has back up lighting, if needed for internal shots, everything should be great. I always like to keep in touch with the venue before the wedding just in case they have any parts of the venue that may be off limits to us on the day etc. Also think outside the venue, some venues don’t have the dramatic scope for photographs so why not venture 10 minutes down the road and see whether theres some interesting backdrops you could use, obviously this is something you and the photographer(s) need to be checking out before the day!

What is your style and do I need to have group photos?

I always ask my couples what style of photography are you after? What photographs have you seen that appeal to you? most people respond with relaxed/reportage style which is perfect as we certainly aren’t military strict photographers. We do give out our ‘Wish List’ this is just a general list of photographs that we try our best to get, it includes the basic list of group shots. I know so many people say "we don’t want group shots!" Trust me you will! It’s something that the family will love and it’s also a reminder of those special people who joined you on your day. We do get the group shots done pretty quickly, we know people don’t want to stand around long - especially if it’s cold - so the sooner they are completed the sooner we can concentrate on the more relaxed style shots and also then take you guys out for some time alone.

Are there any restrictions on sharing photographs on social media?

We love seeing our work shared on social media but we really appreciate it if our logo is shown on them or at least a little link saying “Helen Cotton Photography’ took our awesome photos :) It’s a great indication you loved the photos and want to show them off, which trust me we love too.

Will you be the one shooting my Wedding?

This is something I would be a bit wary of. If it’s a company with no direct names attached to it it’s not going to fill you with much confidence. You want to make sure that the person you book your wedding photography with is the person who is going to turn up for you on the day. If it’s a case of needing a back up photographer then this is a different, we do have back up photographers if something happens but we’ve so far (touch wood) never had this situation.

Do you charge for travel?

Most photographers will include this in their packages but if it’s many miles outside their location there would probably be a fee, especially if going abroad. It’s always best to check with them on this though so you haven’t got any unwanted surprises.

Can I see a contract?

When you’re ready to book a photographer ask to see the contract or make a copy of the booking form. We have TC’s on the back of our booking form which we require a signature so we know you’ve read through them too. This will be sent back to you on the booking confirmation though.

Also ask for recommendations

Photographers get to work with so many different suppliers and are great at getting you the inside info, make sure you ask especially if you’re struggling to decide on suppliers.

In regards to recommendations, this would have to be the key to choosing your wedding photographer! Most of our clients come from weddings we've previously photographed and they have either been family members or friends that then get in touch with us. It's the best way for us to get a booking as people have seen how we work, seen our work already and have already made a great connection with us.

Thanks for reading girls & guys, we hope it's been an interesting read. Please share and we'd love your comments too. Thanks again, much love Helen & Nick xx

07806559428 [email protected]

#Helen Shaw #Helen Cotton Photography #Choosing your wedding photographer #whichweddingphotographer #Wedding Photography #weddingphotography #asklotsofquestions #crewehall #upperhousebarlaston #haslingtonphotography #haslingtonhall #dunwoodhall #combermereabbey #Combermere Abbey #dunwood hall #Crewe Hall #Upper House Barlaston #The Upper House Balaston

[hrrytomlinson]

here are a bunch of fics I’ve enjoyed and loved reading throughout the month of june. I recommend that you read these great fics in july, if you haven’t already!!

(all fics with a star are my favorites and if there are two stars then it was a favorite favorite)

1. Your Mess Is Mine (176k)**

Louis is the father to the most brilliant little boy in the world who is all Louis really needs, or at least that's what he tells himself. Harry is a gorgeous boybander fresh off a two year break and a massive scandal that's left him a little broken and more than ready to move on.

They fall in love.

2. If I Had Three Wishes (They’d All Be For You) (66k)*

When Harry Styles sets off for Provincetown, MA from his tiny hometown of Kerkhoven, MN, he’s facing an uncertain future. He’s always planned to leave, just...not like this. When he meets a gorgeous cabaret performer on his first night in P-town, little does he know how his life is about to change, or how much he has yet to learn. When they become more than just friends, Louis makes it clear he's not looking for anything serious, but at least, Harry consoles himself, they’ll always be friends. Over one extraordinary summer, Harry learns to navigate life on his own through a journey of self-discovery and sexual awakening. But when Harry’s past tragically reappears in his life, will his friendship with Louis be able to hold on?

3. Do Not Go Gentle (70k)*

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

4. Maybe We’re Perfect Strangers (39k)

When an EDM festival in the Caribbean touts itself as a “life-changing and transformative experience,” Harry’s not too sure he buys into it. Regardless, Harry wants nothing more than to please his best friend, so he goes along for the ride. What he doesn’t expect is to fall head over heels for the festival’s organizer who Harry discovers is also the object of his best friend’s affections.

In which it takes three days under the tropical sun for two men to fall in love.

5. Through Eerie Chaos (102k)**

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

6. Got the Sunshine on My Shoulders (124k)**

Five years ago, Harry Styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn't have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

Now, Harry has everything he could possibly want: he's rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. But when said boyfriend proposes to him, he's forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and Louis, who's spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers Harry sent him. 

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

7. The Sweetest Incantation (40k)

Harry has been alive for decades, and yet he's never been as confused and dumbfounded. He's a witch, for God's sake. Can't get much weirder than all the magical things he's experienced throughout his lifetime. Never in a million years, however, would he have expected to be mere inches away from a hybrid.

Or Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

8. For Reasons Unknown (37k)**

Six years after dying, Louis is suddenly thrust back into the life he'd lost. Support Group is supposed to help him adjust to everything that's changed but he finds the experience sadly lacking. Well, except there is one curly-haired lad that's there too. He kind of makes it worth going. 

9. Mutability (108k)**

Harry and Louis meet in a book club. Life and fiction have their parallels.

10. Fool’s Gold (55k)

Leaflet for Over Again Inc.

“In relationships, there are three types of people: those who are happy, those who are unhappy but accept it and deal, those who are unhappy and in denial.

Handling this last category is our job: we are professional couple breakers.

To reach our goal, we use all means necessary.” 

Or the Arnacoeur AU in which Harry is scheduled to be married to Liam in 10 days and Harry’s mother hires Louis and his team to break them up.

11. Barefoot in Blue Jeans (24k)*

AU. Louis Tomlinson is trying desperately hard not to fall for his son’s au pair, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember why. 

12. A World We’ve Only Heard (6k)

So, where are you headed?” Liam asked, not wanting to sit in awkward silence for their journey.  It was twelve hours to Chicago, and that was far too long to sit and not chat with his fellow passenger in front of him.

“Chicago,” he answered, his blue eyes meeting Liam’s own.  “It’s home.  Been on the road for quite some time now, it’s the first time I’ll be able to sleep in my own bed in almost a month.”

Liam whistled.  “You must be pretty excited.”

The man gave a soft smile, which made him look younger than Liam initially expected; he might even still be in his twenties.  He wondered what kind of a life this man had led to look so tired until he smiled.

Or, it's 1951, Harry is the owner of a music shop, and Louis is a traveling salesman making his way back home.

13. Your Serve (4k)*

“Didn’t know you were that good, Lou,” Liam chuckled, wiping his brow, “Looks like I actually have some competition.”

Louis grinned, blowing on his nails, “Who’s up next?” He asked, as if he hadn’t just handed Liam his arse.

Harry bit his lower lip, still watching from his place on the plush burgundy leather sofa. Niall was beside him, flicking through some game on his phone. Louis smacked the paddle loudly against his hand and Harry felt something inside of him clench. His throat went dry, and his eyes pulled to where Louis was still smacking the damn paddle against his hand. He chewed on his bottom lip, watching the paddle smack, watching Louis look so casual and so coy. Harry shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

Louis picked up on his movement, pointing the paddle right at him, “What about you, Haz? You up for a good spanking?”

Or, the one where the boys take up playing ping-pong back stage, and the image of Louis with a paddle is making Harry's life difficult; even more so when he comes home to find Louis' bought a ping-pong table of their own.

14. The Wonderlands (150k)**

"Somewhere between chaos and control — these are the wonderlands."

Harry's daughter, Andy, is signed to Louis' girl band. Her path to success is marked by competition, chaos, and for Harry, a love affair.

15. What Could Have Been (2k)

Louis tries to loosen his tie from the chokehold it has on his neck. It’s really hot in here, but he doesn’t think anyone would appreciate it if he started taking off his clothes. Maybe it’s the number of people, all wool suits and hot breath, filling the amphitheater as they wait for the Grammys to start that’s got Louis feeling like it’s hard to breathe. Or maybe it’s who else is here tonight, sitting three rows up and looking even better than Louis remembers.

Harry.

Louis knew him once. Loved him. Still does if the flutter in his chest at the mere sight of him can be believed. If only Louis hadn’t thrown it all away.

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#fic rec #mine #monthly rec #one direction #larry stylinson #larry fic rec #harry styles #louis tomlinson #liam payne #zayn malik #niall horan #the wonderlands #your serve #a word we've only heard #fools gold #barefoot in blue jeans #mutability #For Reasons Unknown #the sweetest incantation #got the sunshine on my shoulders #through eerie chaos #do not go gentle #maybe we're perfect strangers #if i had there wishes #your mess is mine