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writemekpop · 2 years

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Robot Lover | Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

5K Follower Series Ep. 16

Summary: You designed the perfect man – and built him, as a sex robot. But what do you do when Haechan tires of the customers, and falls for you?

Genre: Sex robot AU, smut

Word Count: 1.4k

Prompt : “Shut up and take your pants off.”

"I want my money back! That sex robot of yours couldn't even keep his tiny metal dick up!”

Irene’s face was dark red, her clothes bunched up in her arms. Before you could even apologise, she stormed out of the apartment.

You squeezed the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath. This was the third time a client had walked out of a session unsatisfied.

When you first designed Model H809A15AN, or Haechan, as you called him, he was a state-of-the-art sex robot. He was tall, dark, muscular, and handsome – everyone’s dream. Plus, his tongue could vibrate, and his penis changed size according to the client’s needs. Perfection!

But lately, something was going wrong. Haechan was no longer able to perform. You’d spent hours debugging, reprograming, polishing… nothing. Why was he acting up like this?

Haechan was sat on the bed, his broad shoulders hunched, and his head hung low. His chestnut brown hair flopped forwards, covering his eyes.

If it wasn’t for the green button glowing faintly on the back of his neck, you could have sworn he was real. From the tiny hairs on his tanned arms to the moles around his eyes, he looked… human.

You sat down on the mattress beside Haechan.

“What’s the matter, Haechan?”

Haechan lifted his head to look at you. His dazzling brown eyes leapt with flecks of gold. “I am sorry, mistress. I have failed you yet again.”

“Haechan, we’ve been over this! If you can’t satisfy my clients, I’ll just have to… make a new model.”

Haechan’s eyes widened. He gripped your hand with alarming strength. “No! Please don’t decommission me!”

You sighed, exasperated. “Look, if you can’t do the job, what’s the point?”

Haechan started to pant, his broad chest rising and falling. His cheeks filled with colour, and his brow glistened. Your heart squeezed, and you had to remind yourself he was just a machine. Sometimes, he looked so lifelike.

He gulped. “There is a reason that I cannot service the clients anymore.

You stared him straight in the eye. “What? You’ve known the problem all this time? Why are you only telling me now?”

Haechan’s face flushed even more, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. “I just… I do not want you to be angry at me.”

You scoffed. “Come on, how bad can it be?”

“It- it may make you view me differently forever.”

“Look, if you’ve got a virus, it’s okay. They have software for that.”

He suddenly looked up, meeting your gaze in a wide-eyed stare. “It’s not… a software issue.”

Your chest was tight. What could it be? He didn’t… not want to work for you anymore, right? Had someone done something to him?

“... It’s because… I am in love with you. I love you, mistress. Y/n.”

You gasped. Haechan had never said your name out loud before.

You’d heard about machine learning, but robots falling in love? Nonsense. “Look. I bet it’s just a virus-“

“No!” Haechan pulled your hand onto his firm chest. “Feel my heart, it beats for you.”

You gulped. You really could feel his heart thundering away against your palm. And the heat radiating from his body…it was driving you insane.

You pulled your hand off. “You’re just… just silicon and steel. That’s it.” Your own heart started to race. Why was it racing?

Haechan stared at you, hazel eyes blazing with defiance. “I know you feel the same way! Your pupils are dilated, your cheeks are flushed, your heart rate is one hundred and ten beats per minute. Those are the signs of attraction, of love. Or am I reading you wrong?”

“I- I…” you stuttered.

Haechan went on. “You’re my creator, and you made me into your perfect man.”

His voice was low, and ringing with intensity. “Well here I am, your perfect man, wanting you back.”

“But how can we-“

“Shut up and take your pants off.” Haechan said a playful smile toying at his plump lips.

You gasped. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”

He smirked. “I may have picked up a trick or two over the years. I can tell you like it. Your blood pressure just spiked.”

You rubbed your cheeks, blushing. Damn it, why did you add all those extra features?

Haechan touched your thigh. “I don’t want to be your servant anymore. I want to be your… equal.”

You bit your lip. This was not a good idea…

Haechan leant close. The air thickened with something intense, electrifying.

“I can make love to you better than those human men,” Haechan whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “I hear the way you fake your moans when you bring someone around. With me, you’d never have to fake it. You designed me for you, after all.”

You gulped. Unable to breathe. To talk.

“Can I try something?” Haechan asked, his fingers grazing lightly across your neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake.

Your heart and your head were in crossfire. No one had ever looked at you like how Haechan was looking at you right now - like you set him alight.

You nodded, your desire getting the better of you.

Haechan leant towards you. He left a trail of soft kisses up your neck, each one pressing against your skin for a second longer. You let your eyes flutter shut.

Even though you knew these moves were calculated – you’d programmed them yourself - your skin still quivered with a pleasure.

Haechan’s lips hovered over yours. And then, he kissed you.

You moaned into the kiss. His fingers cupped your cheek. His tongue was warm, inviting. Your whole body blazed with desire. Every inch of your skin exploded with sparks at his touch.

As you kissed, you curled your hand around the back of his head, through his soft hair.

You squeezed your mouth onto his, kissing him with all your might. You ran your fingers up the back of his neck, feeling the short spiky hairs brush your fingers. Haechan shuddered with pleasure.

By accident, your fingers touched the button on the back of Haechan’s neck. Your eyes snapped open. For a moment, you’d gotten so lost in pleasure, that you’d forgotten Haechan was not human. You’d forgotten that this could never work.

Only your fingerprint could activate the button. You pushed it. Haechan froze.

You pulled your mouth off him and watched in anguish as Haechan tried to fight it, but couldn’t.

“I… love… you.” Were the last words Haechan said as he powered down. The light left his eyes, and his cold, heavy body slumped forwards onto yours.

You pushed him off, shuddering.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered.

That night, when you took Haechan’s body apart, piece by piece, your cheeks were wet with tears. You cried so much that you could have passed out from dehydration.

You were doing this for the sake of humanity. This… this had gone too far. Haechan had crossed boundaries that no scientist could have predicted. It was just too dangerous.

Love… could wait.

-Five years later-

“Haemi, come for dinner!”

Your three-year-old daughter came running into the kitchen, skidding to a halt in front of you.

Your husband, Renjun, followed behind.

You didn’t see it at the time, but Renjun was similar to Haechan in many ways. When Renjun kissed you, you couldn’t help but think of Haechan’s lips as they grazed your neck.

Every time you closed your eyes, you’d see a flash of brown skin, a mole, a signature smirk.

Renjun’s touch didn’t set your skin alight, but how important was that really? At least you had Haemi.

There was a knock at the door.

Every time you heard the doorbell, a tiny part of you would leap. Could it be Haechan? But that was impossible.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You yanked open the door. The wineglass in your hand fell to the floor, spreading a deep red stain. But you didn’t notice – you were too busy staring at the man standing at your door.

In that moment, the five years that had passed vanished as if they never happened.

It was Haechan.

You rubbed your eyes. But there he was, tall, brown, breathing. He hadn’t aged a day since the day you took him apart.

How was this possible?

Haechan stepped forwards. “I finally found you.”

—

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blueiskewl · 1 month

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A Rare Marble Carving Depicting Twins Goes on Display

Years after a rare Greek marble was discovered, the unique find is finally on display for the world to see.

In November 2008, a man went to the National Archaeological Museum with a bundle of cloth, the museum said in a March 22 news release.

He said he was a shell collector and discovered the bundle while rooting around a stream in Menidi, on the west coast of Greece.

Archaeologists took the bundle, made from old clothes, and found a fragment of a marble carving inside, the museum said.

The archaeologists were surprised by the depiction, according to the museum.

The carving showed two babies wrapped in the arms of a woman, a rare type of funerary stele.

The funerary stele, carvings associated with tombs and headstones, likely belonged to a woman who died during childbirth, the museum said. The babies, twins in the same arms, represented their shared fate as orphans, according to the archaeologists.

The marble section would have been part of a larger image showing the mother, the museum said.

The discovery is likely from the 4th century B.C., museum archaeologists said, and it is the only known surviving stele to depict twins.

The imagery of twins in Ancient Greek art itself, however, is not rare, Heritage Daily reported. Leto, the mother of twins Artemis and Apollo, is often used as a symbol of motherhood and a maternal goddess in images with her children.

The stele is now on display as part of a larger museum collection, called the Unseen Museum.

The museum said the exhibit “brings to the fore antiquities stored in its vaults, away from the visitor’s eyes,” according to the release.

The exhibit runs until May 13 in Athens, Greece.

By Irene Wright.

#A Rare Marble Carving Depicting Twins Goes on Display #Menidi #funerary stele #marble #marble statue #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient greece #greek history #greek art

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sarnie-for-varney · 9 months

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Someone has already said this on one of my Granada Holmes posts, but I completely agree that one of the main reasons Holmes admires Irene Adler is because of her involvement in the arts, especially music.

Irene is an opera singer. In many instances, we have seen Holmes go to and enjoy the opera. While she has retired from the stage, she still sings in her free time and she occasionally stars in productions.

She was also an actor. It has been said by various people in Holmes' life that he would've made a brilliant actor due to his mastery of disguise and his ability to play into the characters he's created from these disguises (Escott the Plumber for example is rather shabby-looking, with an accent much different from his own).

As I've mentioned before, another reason for Holmes' admiration is because of her ultimately outsmarting him in the climax of A Scandal in Bohemia. It is very rare that Holmes is ever outsmarted by anybody, but it is even more surprising that it was a woman. This is due to the fact that Holmes had some rather outdated and derogatory views of women, which Irene Adler ends up completely uprooting and changing. The title that he gives her, 'The Woman', emphasises that fact. He places her above the rest of her sex.

That being said, I don't believe Holmes had any romantic feelings for Adler. But I do think he liked that she shared his interests and that he was incredibly impressed by her intelligence.

After all, while subtle, I think it's pretty damn obvious that Watson is Holmes soulmate; romantic or platonic.

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that-one-i-think · 2 months

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For @localcryptidinthewoods 's Divine Warriors Rockstar AU

I have some ideas on all of their backgrounds (but featuring my own headcannons for the Divine Warriors) and feel free to bounce ideas as well.

They all met at a boarding school, one that was where they sent kids in need of a "second chance", a(r/u)tistic folks, and kids who were musically talented and slightly annoying to their parents. A take my troubles away school for the parents.

Irene: She gives big large-range-soprano energy. She was a theater kid who said she was either become famous by 25 or start murdering people. Fortunately their band got a big break rather early. Not in contact with her parents but was at the school with scholarships. Possibly foster care.

Shad: He and Menphia knew each other for a long time, both having really rich parents who threw money at them. Shad technically was being raised by an uncle but it was a "I give you money and roof, you leave me alone" relationship. Led to a LOT of teenage rebellion.

Menphia: Her dad was a fashion model and her mom was a boxer. Her dad was very much a girlboss malewife while her mom was a Gaslight Mansplain type of person. Both fueled her interests and encouraged her rebellion. They weren't regular parents, they were cool parents.

Enki: Their dads were professors and sent her to the school so he could let his creativity flow. They were very encouraging of the arts but believed it was more of a phase. Did help them get a solo dorm so they could be as genderqueer as they needed to be. Enki is incredibly smart and to make her parents happy she did get a librarian degree.

Esmund: He was an Irish exchange student who got a scholarship. The scholarship was due to his dad helping the dean get out of a bar fight and saved his life. There because of nepotism but genuinely talented, and he also never knew of the nepotism so he believed he had to work hard.

Kul'Zak: A part of the second chance program. Incredibly musically talented, like broadway vocal talent and worked hard. Naturally gifted but he isn't there because of a scholarship, his juvie officer recommended him for the second chance pity/charity program after seeing him make a guitar out of contraband. (Juvie officer also wanted people to stop trying to hide contraband in his prosthetic leg).

#aphblr #aphmau #aphverse #aphmau mcd #divine warriors

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whileiamdying · 3 months

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The Black Woman Artist Who Crafted a Life She Was Told She Couldn’t Have

The sculptor Augusta Savage at work in her studio in Harlem.

At the dawn of the Harlem Renaissance, Augusta Savage fought racism to earn acclaim as a sculptor, showing her work alongside de Kooning and Dalí. But the path she forged is also her legacy.

By Concepción de León Published March 30, 2021

In 1937, the sculptor Augusta Savage was commissioned to create a sculpture that would appear at the 1939 New York World’s Fair in Queens, N.Y. Savage was one of only four women, and the only Black artist, to receive a commission for the fair. In her studio in Harlem, she created “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” a 16-foot sculpture cast in plaster and inspired by the song of the same name — often called the Black national anthem — written by her friend, James Weldon Johnson, who had died in 1938.

The sculpture was renamed “The Harp” by World’s Fair organizers and exhibited alongside work by renowned artists from around the world, including Willem de Kooning and Salvador Dalí. Press reports detail how well the piece was received by visitors, and it’s been speculated that it was among the most photographed sculptures at the Fair.

But when the World’s Fair ended, Savage could not afford to cast “The Harp” in bronze, or even pay for the plaster version to be shipped or stored, so her monumental work, like many temporary works on display at the Fair, was destroyed.

The story of the commission and destruction of “The Harp” and its eventual fate is a microcosm of the challenges Savage faced — and the ones Black artists dealt with at the time and are still dealing with today. Savage was an important artist held back not by talent but by financial limitations and sociocultural barriers. Most of Savage’s work has been lost or destroyed but today, a century after she arrived in New York City at the height of the Harlem Renaissance, her work, and her plight, still resonate.

Augusta Savage at work on the sculpture that would become known as “The Harp.” Credit... via The New York Public Library

“Disagreeable complications”

Savage, born Augusta Christine Fells in Green Cove Springs, Fla., in 1892, was the seventh of 14 children. She started making animal sculptures from clay as a child, but her father strongly opposed her interest in art. Savage once said that he “almost whipped all the art out of me,” according to the Smithsonian American Art Museum.

Savage arrived in Harlem a century ago in 1921 in the early years of the Harlem Renaissance. She was nearly 30; had already been twice married, widowed and divorced; and had a teenage child, Irene, whom she left in the care of her parents in Florida. She applied and was accepted to the Cooper Union art school, and completed the four-year program in three years. She took the surname Savage from her second husband, whom she divorced. In 1923, she married Robert L. Poston, her third and final husband. Poston died a year later.

The year she married Poston, Savage was one of 100 women awarded a scholarship to attend the Fontainebleau School of Fine Arts in Paris. But when the admissions committee realized that it had selected a Black woman, Savage’s scholarship was rescinded.

In a letter explaining the decision, the chairman of Fontainebleau’s sculpture department, Ernest Peixotto, expressed concern that “disagreeable complications” would arise between Savage and the students “from the Southern states.”

Savage did not accept the rejection quietly. “She used the Black press to make the limits that she was facing known to the larger national and international public,” Bridget R. Cooks, an art historian and associate professor at University of California, Irvine, said. “She had a real determination and sense of her own talent and a refusal to be denied.”

In the years after the Fontainebleau episode, Savage was commissioned to create busts for prominent African-American figures such as the sociologist and scholar W.E.B. Du Bois and the Jamaican activist Marcus Garvey. She also created “Gamin,” a painted plaster bust portrait based on her nephew that became one of her most well-known pieces, praised for its expressiveness. (It was later cast in bronze.)

“Gamin” earned her a Julius Rosenwald fellowship in 1929 to travel to Paris, which had become a refuge for Black artists, including the painter Palmer Hayden and the sculptor Nancy Elizabeth Prophet. Savage studied at the Académie de la Grand Chaumière and had works displayed at the Grand Palais and other prominent venues.

When she returned to Harlem in 1932, she opened the Savage Studio of Arts and Crafts, where she taught prominent artists such as Jacob Lawrence, Gwendolyn Knight, Norman Lewis and Kenneth B. Clark. Clark later turned to social psychology and developed, with his wife Mamie, experiments using dolls to show how segregation affected Black children’s self-perception.

The community-driven education that Savage championed is part of the African-American tradition, Dr. Cooks said, because Black people have historically been excluded from formal academic spaces. “But for her to open her own school is something entirely different,” Dr. Cooks added. “That is becoming a business person. That’s taking on a leadership role for which she doesn’t have any models in terms of Black people in the art world and Black women in particular. ”

In 1934, Savage became the first African-American member of the National Association of Women Painters and Sculptors (now the National Association of Women Artists). In 1937, she worked with the W.P.A. Federal Art Project to establish the Harlem Community Art Center and became its first director. Eleanor Roosevelt, who attended its inauguration, was so impressed with the center that she used it as a model for other arts centers across the country.

Gwendolyn Bennett, Sara West, Louise Jefferson, Augusta Savage and Eleanor Roosevelt in 1937. Credit... The New York Public Library/Schomburg Center

“She created a pathway for careers for Black artists,” Tammi Lawson, the curator of the art and artifacts division of the Schomburg Center, which has the largest holding of Savage’s work, said. “She taught them, she gave them the tools, and she got them work.”

Sandra Jackson-Dumont, the director and chief executive officer of the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art in Los Angeles, agrees. “She, for me, represents someone who believed that she wasn’t compromising her studio practice or who she was by teaching and bringing people along,” said Ms. Jackson-Dumont, adding that Savage understood “how to use the system’s resources to catalyze folks.”

Yet the later years of Savage’s artistic career were marked by adversity. After taking a hiatus to work on her sculpture for the World’s Fair, Savage returned to the Harlem Community Art Center to find that her job had been filled. She briefly tried to establish the Salon of Contemporary Negro Art in Harlem in 1939, but the gallery lasted only three months.

“Joe Gould’s Teeth,” a 2016 book by the historian Jill Lepore, revealed archival evidence that Gould, an eccentric writer, had harassed Savage by calling her incessantly, insulting her, following her to parties and telling people she had agreed to marry him. In the early 1940s, Savage abruptly left her home in Harlem for a farmhouse in Saugerties, N.Y., in the Catskill Mountains, where she continued to make busts and teach local children. In Harlem, the community art center she had founded was closed in 1942 when federal funds were cut during World War II.

Savage remained in Saugerties until Gould died in 1957 and she only later returned to Harlem. She died in relative obscurity in March 1962 of cancer, at 70.

“A blueprint for what it means to be an artist that centers on humanity”

Jeffreen Hayes, who is now a curator and the executive director of Threewalls, an arts nonprofit in Chicago, was a graduate student at Howard University when she learned about Augusta Savage’s work. A professor mentioned the sculptor in passing during a section on the Harlem Renaissance.

“I remember my professor showing slides of Augusta Savage,” Dr. Hayes said, “and then we just kind of moved on.”

Dr. Hayes, though, was struck by this story of a resilient Black woman whose greatest works have been lost but who made a life as an artist, teacher, arts center director and community organizer against the backdrop of Jim Crow laws and the Great Depression.

“I don’t think about Augusta Savage as someone who only made objects,” Dr. Hayes said, but rather as someone who “has really left behind a blueprint of what it means to be an artist that centers humanity.”

In 2018, Dr. Hayes curated the exhibition “Augusta Savage: Renaissance Woman” at the Cummer Museum in Jacksonville, Fla., which aimed, according to the catalog, to “reassess Harlem Renaissance artist Augusta Savage’s contributions to art and cultural history in light of 21st-century attention to the concept of the artist-activist.”

“Savage’s artistic skill was widely acclaimed nationally and internationally during her lifetime,” the catalog reads, “and a further examination of her artistic legacy is long overdue.”

At a moment when discourse has centered on the artistic and political role of public art and monuments, the continuing absence of a work like “The Harp” becomes even more acute.

After the Civil War, as cities evolved in the 19th and 20th centuries, sculptors formed close alliances with architects, such that parks, town squares and other public spaces were designed with sculptures in mind. Unlike paintings, which are typically housed in museums, sculptures and monuments hold an outsized symbolic value because of their presence in public life.

“Your public art should align with a community’s values,” said James Grossman, the executive director of the American Historical Association. “Every generation, each state should step back and say, maybe it’s time for somebody else” to be honored.

Savage with her sculpture “Realization” in 1938. Credit... Andrew Herman, via The New York Public Library/Schomburg Center

In assessing “Augusta Savage: Renaissance Woman,” the Times art critic Roberta Smith noted of another Savage sculpture titled “Realization”: “It never made it beyond its forcefully modeled nearly life-size clay version. It’s heartbreaking to think the difference its survival might have made.”

Recently, in the context of questions over Confederate monuments, there have been calls to recreate Savage’s “The Harp” and display it at the National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington.

Savage viewed her own legacy with humility, putting the emphasis on the success of her students. In a 1935 interview in Metropolitan Magazine, she said, “I have created nothing really beautiful, really lasting, but if I can inspire one of these youngsters to develop the talent I know they possess, then my monument will be in their work.”

Dr. Cooks said she “would disagree” with Savage’s assessment of her own work; “I think everybody would,” she added. For Dr. Cooks, it’s clear that Savage saw her legacy as “someone who could set up opportunities for other people who were younger than her, to have the space to build a Black infrastructure, essentially, so they could succeed.”

In this sense, Savage’s legacy lies as much in the life she built for herself as in the work she made for the world, as evidenced in surviving film of Savage guiding students or creating sculpture in her studio.

In her work at Threewalls, Dr. Hayes said she aims to honor Savage’s mission: to “build a larger ecology that intentionally builds a relationship with community,” as Dr. Hayes put it.

Dr. Hayes didn’t have the support of people like Savage to guide her in the art world early on. “I feel really good that I can pass on that wisdom to the next generation coming up,” she said.

A correction was made on:

March 31, 2021 An earlier version of this article misstated the surname of the director and chief executive officer of the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art in Los Angeles. She is Sandra Jackson-Dumont, not Dumont-Jackson.

A correction was made on April 5, 2021 An earlier version of this article misstated the year of Joe Gould's death. He died in 1957, not 1954. When we learn of a mistake, we acknowledge it with a correction. If you spot an error, please let us know at [email protected].

#the new york times #concepción de león #augusta savage #harlem #harlem renaissance

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deeptrashwitch · 1 month

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*During a insomia night, inside Witch's mind*

So, who are you again?

A fictional girl

Yeah well, it doesn't help me to understand

Start writing and you'll figure it out

...I need to sleep, I'll lead with you tomorrow

*ends up writing (and even doing the picrew) at midnight to at least keep the idea out of her mind for a while*

Yeah...the thing below just appeared while I was trying to sleep, and now I'm writing about her. It's a new OC, and she'll be Ghost's civilian girlfriend. And no, she has nothing to do with my main timeline, so there won't be anything related to her on my post about the Specters.

I'll leave this programed and then go to sleep. See ya!

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

OC: Samantha "Sam" Cohen

Nationality: American

Age: 34

Date of birth: 15th january 1990 - Richmond (U.S.A.)

Residence: Washington D.C

Profession: Marketing director

Height: 1.72 m/ 5"7' ft

Weight: 70 kg

Blood type: A+

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Relationships

Simon "Ghost" Riley (boyfriend)

Mike Cohen (older brother)

Lily Cohen nee Dupont (sister-in-law)

Valerie Cohen (niece)

William Cohen (nephew)

David Cooper (friend)

Irene Sayre (friend)

Jayden/Cassandra Fisher (friend

Trivia

-Her main hobby is make flower arrangements, using many type of flowers. Sometimes Simon helps her, and he even has learned how to do some crowns.

-She loves cuddles and always hugs Simon when they are on their bed, she even plays with his hair when they are looking a movie. And she's the only one who'll ever see Simon all lovey-dovey and clingy, so anytime people says he's cold, scary or things like that, she cackles internally.

-When they visit her brother, she always plays with her nephew and niece while the rest talk calmly.

-She's the second oldest on the group, only Cassandra/Jayden is older than her. Irene and David always mock them because of it, but they love the little brats anyway.

-She tends to be explosive, it can be when she's excited or pissed off. Her reactions are usually effusive (read as: laughter when she's happy and ugly cry shen she's sad), except when she's furious (if she ignores you, then you really fucked it up).

Random quote

"Are you saying that Ghost is scary and cruel? That Ghost? If...you say so, I guess" -talking with a random rookie (who got punished later by said Lieutenant)

When and how met their partner?

She met Simon through a dates app, to be honest she was intrigued because his profile just said basic things (no likes, hobbies and what not) and his photo was him with the baclava. They went to the African Art National Museum and walked for a while in silence, until, when they saw an object from the expo, Ghost commented a non-classified anecdote about a mission in Africa where he learned a bit about their ancient cultures. It called Sam's attention, and they started a conversation, more like Sam asked many things and Ghost answered.

Also, she wasn't exactly stingy with the compliments, admired to find out thar her date knew such interest things. Then she found out about Simon's shyness when it comes to compliments outside of work, because he was blushed and a bit nervous down the mask he was using (he'll deny it all his life, tho). And when the date finished, she was the one to ask him for a second date the next time he had a free day, to which he happily agreed.

And from there, it's history as well.

#witch moment #ocs #oc #simon riley x reader #sorry i didn't put much info #i'm tired as i write this #i'll give her more story soon #i promise

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mysticarts · 7 days

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Questions: Take your time.

1. I remember when you posted an art where you said Carmen has a boss? So like who are they? And what's their relationship with Carmen?

2. What is Carmen's step-brother's reaction if he meets Lucio? Lucio doesn't know a lot about him but knows Carmen doesn't like him, Lucio definitely despises him quickly.

Also what is Carmen's step- brother background info?

(He would be intimated at Lucio's height and stoic nature, probably questioning how the Frick did she befriend this guy.)

3. What would Nia do in the sequel if she discovered Lucio accidentally adopting her, or becoming her guardian, how would she feel about Lucio retiring from Marigold?

Also I am wondering what would happen about the sequel au since it's take place after the stock market crash perhaps? (Or 1930s-)

4. Spoilers warning, how will Nia feel if Lucio had told her a secret after Carmen died. The secret about his past life and the fact Lucio isn't his real name but a disguised one. The reason why he hides his name is, so no one who was involved in the 'incident' finds out he's alive, and reveals his true name, especially the ones who thought they killed him.

Sure he could have some Carmen about it. However he feared Carmen would either react to it negatively, leave him forever or expose his identity to the public, thus he kept this secret forever until in 1931 he couldn't keep doing this, due to his conscience screaming at him.

Lucio, being so guilty after Carmen's death mentally prepared telling Nia (who's now an adult in this au) and expecting her to slap, yell or hit him.

5. Not a question, Lucio in the sequel au braids his hair so he and Nia could match. Ah yes.

Edit: Sorry for the long lengthy sentences, have a good day/Night though! ^^

first question!

Carmen's boss: Victoria "Vicky" Seymore

Victoria is Carmen's boss at her dress shop. Victoria seems very cold, to the point she seems like she's on a higher standard than everyone else around her. In reality, she begs her husband for some of his power to she can feel like she has choices.

Victoria, funny enough, envy's Carmen. She sees Carmen working willingly more than three jobs without a husband, and yet hears Carmen ramble about wanting one. It annoys Victoria, since she's a little salty about her not being in a healthy and stable marriage

2. Carmen's stepbrother?

Ive never fully designed Carmen's stepbrother, heck I forgot his name, but I know one thing: HE'D DESPISE LUCIO!!

Carmen's stepbrother (who I'll be calling Alexander for now) is good at literally anything he tries. That includes the looks department. Seeing Lucio's height, Alexander would already be annoyed and jealous that his stepsister had seemingly a better life than he was living

Alexander, again, was Irene's biological son. His dad died a year before Irene met Elias and they got married. It was on the same end of Carmen's aswell. Because both of them not over their biological parent's deaths, and then suddenly became siblings, let's just say Alexander did not like having this random girl be his sister, not to mention Carmen was abrasive and Brash and Alexander wanted to hold up a charater

Alexander usually blamed Carmen for some of the mess ups he did when it came to keeping the family name clean, saying that she was too unladylike for the family.

To put it in short: Alexander was born in such a strict household with gender roles than when he got moved to an entirely new place only a year later, he got a little mad, And salty.

3. Nia's next steps

Again, the sequel au is still in process, but during this time Nia would probably be working in college to become a detective, and would take phsycology as a fun little side thing. Turns out those phsycology lessons made Nia realize.......

Lucio has became VERRY unstable since Carmen's death, and is trying to subconsciously adopt Nia to remind himself of her, Carmen and him again. Nia would be concerned, but will appreciate how much Lucio cares, as around this time, Nia would probably call Lucio 'Uncle Luci'

If anything, Nia was glad Lucio quit Marigold cause working for a technical mafia while also loosing one of the closest friends you almost considered family has died, your not put in the best state.

(I just mentioned this au as fun and giggles, I still haven't fully fleshed out what year it would be, but I'd say at the beginning of the great depression)

4. Nia's reaction

Would Nia be pissed, yes. Main reason why? It's because Lucio didn't trust Carmen or not. Nia knows that even if Carmen didn't support Lucio's decisions, Carmen would still be friends with Lucio.

Nia would be mad that all of Carmen's attempts to get Lucio fully comfortable with her would fail, time and time again. Sadly, Nia doesn't have the same amount as gracefulness as Carmen has.

Nia may yell, but that's a low possibility. Nia was taught better than to hit a man when admitting his sins, showing his vulnerability. Nia would keep a calm tone, and try to talk it properly out.

5. I love the idea of Lucio and Nia having matching braids! However, I also imagine Nia would tie her hair up like Carmen used too, just to feel more closer to her.

(Fun fact!: the last words Carmen heard before she died was a blood curdling scream saying "MOM!!!!......")

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xerith-42 · 4 months

Note

yo yo could i perhaps have a crumb of your rewritten storyline for s2 ep 95? luv ur stuff

I always love people describing art in a fandom as crumbs. Makes me think I'm sitting on a park bench throwing out crumbs and bird feed to the local crows but instead of food I'm just tossing out pieces of paper with my inane ramblings about block people on them.

This is a segment of my rewrite of Season 2 Episode 95, titled Fool of a Muse. Said rewrite is the one with my oc Haven in it, so she's there because she's one of Laurance's emotional pillars, and I change Aph's name to Irena because I like fucking with her. I actually re-rewrote this scene a few weeks back to include some of the original dialogue to prove that aspects of the scene could work given the right context.

Fool of a Muse

Laurance tried to keep his head straight, but it simply wasn’t possible. Not there. Not while hearing her speak of secrets of the deceased. The voices of the calling were always louder when reminded of death, and staying in a tomb was practically asking them to start acting up. He left in order to get some space to clear his head, walking towards the beaches, hoping the ocean waves would drown out the sound.

Instead he found the opposite of what he wanted. Standing on the sands was Irena, a hand over her stomach, who turned at the sound of Laurance approaching. Clutched in her other hand was Aaron’s bandanna. The voices only got louder at the reminder and the sight of their target.

“Laurance? Is everything alright?” She asked softly. Laurance stepped back, which only worsened her concern.

“I-I’m fine,” He lied. Irena simply laughed, turning around to admire the sunset again.

“You don’t have to lie to me Laurance, I know that look.”

“You needn’t worry about my well being.” Laurance finally stepped closer to her, standing at her side and hesitating at the urge to try and hold one of her hands. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing… alright.”

“Now who’s lying?” Irena chuckled a little bit, and Irene help him if that wasn’t one of the most assuring sounds Laurance had heard. Even if it was shaky, she could still laugh.

“What makes you say that?”

“Dante told Garroth about what happened to you the other day. And Garroth couldn’t help but tell me.” Irena sighed, tucking the bandanna into her pocket.

“I told him to keep that between us. It was just an imp playing a trick on me.”

“Why are you trying to hide from me?”

“I’m not—”

“Yes you are.”

“I just don’t want to talk about it. Not while the wound is still fresh.”

“You know that Dante told Garroth because he’s your guard, and that’s why Garroth told me. It’s our sworn duty to take care of and protect you. We can’t do that if you refuse to tell us what’s happening.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it from you for long. This is a security issue on our island that would be brought to light in due time. I just… I needed time to process what I saw.”

“You mean who you saw.” Irena let out a sigh.

“Why did you run?” Laurance turned away.

“You know why.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“Irena, I… I couldn’t be around you like that. The calling never ends, not in my waking hours. If I had seen the way you were immediately after his passing, I don’t know if I would have been able to hold myself back.”

“Are you sure that’s what this is?” Laurance finally looked to his side and saw Irena’s pitiful expression. They were alone. She was weak. He could just do it now.

“I told you, I’m not your problem to worry about.”

“I'm going to worry regardless. I know you aren’t proud of it, but you are prone to jealousy. I just want to ensure that’s not what this is.” Laurance looked away as his hands clenched into fists. Why was she pushing this?

“And what if it was?” Irena went silent. “Look, I’ll never pretend I understood Aaron, or why he did any of what he did. And I didn’t trust him entirely either, not after he hid he was the Lord of Falcon Claw from us.”

“Laurance, it’s not that simple—”

“What I want to know is why you cared so deeply for him. What made him so special he was worthy of your love?”

“I-I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Well I do.”

“Laurance, regardless of my feelings, he proved himself trustworthy to us. Remember when you turned? He saved my life without killing you.” Laurance held back rapidly growing tears.

“And I’m ashamed he had to do such a thing. But you’re avoiding the question.”

“Maybe it’s a question I don’t want to answer.” Irena’s continued refusal had Laurance already losing his patience. The voices had enough too.

“Why not?!”

“Laurance!” Garroth suddenly snapped. “That’s enough.”

“Stay out of this!” Laurance suddenly roared, his head jerking so he could snarl at the intervening guard. Irena moved back when she saw the flash of red in his eyes.

“It’s not our place to question her on personal matters.”

“Don’t pretend like you aren’t upset over this too.”

“I’m only upset I couldn’t protect my lord adequately. You should be grateful you have the opportunity, not throwing it away over your jealousy.”

“You weren’t here, Garroth! You didn’t see the way he acted around her!”

“I only wish I could have been. He made the ultimate sacrifice for her, and in turn did the same for me. You should understand that. You were lucky enough to come back from it.” Too far and Garroth knew it, but there was nothing he could do now. Anger flowed through Laurance faster than he could keep up with, the voices of the calling louder than his own thoughts. Garroth was right, he was taking this too far, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Don’t speak as if you understand the hell I’ve been through! The hell I went through just to get back to her! I’m here now so why care about him?!” Laurance’s eyes flashed back to their normal state, but by the time regret came to his expression, the damage was already done.

With those words, Haven finally moved from where she’d been watching the conversation, racing forward until she was a step away from Laurance, before slapping him across the face. Irena groaned, nearly falling over which made Garroth rush to her side while Laurance stood there in shock. When he finally could hear his own thoughts over the voices, he saw the tears building up in Havens eyes.

“Would you listen to yourself?!” Haven nearly screamed. “Would you think of saying the same thing if I had followed through?! If I had used my own life to break the realm barrier either of the two times I almost did it, would you be stupid enough to be enraged with someone for grieving over me?!”

“Y-You’re different–” Laurance couldn’t even fully remember what he said.

“Am I?! Aaron loved Irena the same way you love me! Would you accept someone yelling at you for mourning my death?!” Laurance opened his mouth, but closed it after a second. Then he noticed Haven’s hand on the handle of her sword, her sheath undone. “Whether you realize it or not, your selfish words have begun to harm Lord Irena. If you continue to do harm to my lord, I will not hesitate to strike you down.”

“Irena, you need some rest,” Garroth insisted as she groaned again. She just nodded, letting Garroth half pick her up and carry her over to her home.

“Will you stand down, or are you finally going to fight me?” Haven could see the battle in Laurance’s features. Streaks of red flashed through his eyes, and his pupils had begun to shake. There was a clear conflict about what the hell to feel and how to act on it. It went against his nature to wish harm on Haven, let alone Irena, but the calling was almost jumping at this chance. The voices in his head started to demand it.

But he couldn’t. Laurance’s shoulders slumped, and he stepped away from Haven, his humanity clearly winning. Haven still didn’t remove her hand from the handle of her sword, not until Laurance finally fell to his knee, tossing his sword aside, and hanging his head in shame.

“If you see it fit to punish me, do it now,” He insisted. “I have acted shamelessly, and allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment. Only a fool would ask for forgiveness, yet I throw myself at your feet to beg for it.” Haven sighed, finally buttoning up her sheath and taking her hands off of her sword.

“I will grant you what you ask, but in exchange you must promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to promise me that you won’t keep running away from how the calling making you feel.”

“Haven, I didn’t run today, and look what happened.”

“And look at how Irena didn’t even have the strength to yell at you to leave. Your Lord is in frail condition, both emotionally and physically.”

“The calling will tempt me.”

“And if you ran from it, she could die without you there to protect her.” Laurance groaned at the thought of it, something that clearly ran through his mind every day he was away from them, and Haven knew it. She knew Laurance frustratingly well. “And if Irena were to fall, not only would the grief of losing her begin to take hold of your mind, the calling would latch onto me next. Would you really risk that happening?”

“I would fall on my own sword before I ever considered hurting you.”

“Well you’re no good to me dead.” Haven glanced down at him. “Pick your head up.” Laurance raised his head to look at Haven, and she saw nothing but love and oh-so-human fear in those beautiful eyes of his. “I want you to promise me you won’t run from this. And if you do, know that I will follow after you.”

“Haven–”

“I didn’t before, remember?”

“And I told you–”

“I don’t care what you told me! Laurance–” Haven rolled her eyes and groaned as she tried to formulate the best way to word this to him. “Look, I know you guards struggle to understand this, but the people you’re protecting care about you. Even if you’re willing to go to ridiculous lengths to protect us, we’re willing to go to the same lengths to ensure you don’t die in the process.”

“Seems like an exhausting thing to do.”

“It is! If I were able to, I’d just stop caring about you sacrificial idiots! Unfortunately–” Haven looked down at that frustratingly charming smile of Laurance’s. He loved seeing Haven riled up and frustrated, and he was clearly enjoying the way she kept pausing to try and get through to him. They were both furiously stubborn, and he loved it. “Unfortunately, if I were in the Shadow Abyss that day, I would have thrown myself into whatever danger I had to in order to save your life.” Laurance froze for a moment, a chill going down his body.

“Haven, don’t say stuff like that.”

“What I’m trying to say is that you aren’t going to get away with this again. You can’t just keep running from the consequences. You wanna run off into danger, try to satiate yourself with isolation so you don’t want to kill somebody?! Too bad, cause I’ll be right behind you!”

“But I don’t want you to be!”

“But that’s not how the story goes.” Haven smiled as she knelt down in front of Laurance. “The poet will travel to hell and back just to get another glimpse at their muse.” Laurance sighed, finally relenting, taking his hand off of his knee and holding it out to Haven, who took it tenderly.

“And their muse will always follow, in hopes of hearing just one more note of their song.”

“So, darling muse, will you make this poet into a soldier who fights the fates for you?” Laurance looked up into Haven’s eyes, before pulling her hand closer and placing a kiss against it.

“My fabled poet, you need not do such a thing. They already fear you.” Haven giggled, before pulling Laurance into a kiss. It was slow, not about feeling particularly good, rather just about cementing in that promise. And the fact that Haven was easily the more stubborn of the two.

#text post #minecraft diaries #minecraft diaries rewrite #mcd rewrite #laurance zvahl #garroth ro'meave #mcd aphmau #mcd garroth #mcd laurance #mcd oc #minecraft diaries oc #aphblr #answering asks #aphverse #mcd aaron #he's just mentioned tho #queued post

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he-said-irene · 2 years

Photo

Commission Info!

I’m opening up 3 slots for commissions, first come - first served. I’m doing portraits of single characters only, anything from full body to just the head, but the price increases $5 for each tier after head and shoulders: half body (waist up), full body (includes simple background).

Pencil Portraits: $25

Monochromatic Digital Portraits: $40

I’ll do:

- characters from MASH, Hornblower, Master & Commander, The Terror AMC (S1), The X-Files, Pacific Rim

- characters from things I haven’t seen IF they look very polite and you are willing to work with me on providing reference pics

- I’ll mess with aspects of reality (time period, hairstyle, etc) IF I also think the idea is fun enough and you’re willing to take a bit of a chance on it

I don’t do:

- cartoon characters or OCs, I need a real person’s face for reference

- nudity or suggestive poses

Process:

DM me with any questions or requests! I’d rather someone ask if they’re curious than assume the answer is no. Payment is through PayPal, 1/2 upfront and 1/2 on delivery. I can show you progress pics and consult with you on options and details as little or as much as you want. I can DM, post on tumblr, or email you the finished product. No physical mail bc I don’t have a PO box set up.

#commissions #he said Irene's art #he said irenes art #hornblower #master and commander #aubreyad #mash #the x files #pacific rim #I'm not really expecting this to blow up #its mostly for my followers and mutuals and fellow boat media fans #but if other people see it and want anything #thats cool too

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topsyturvy-turtely · 1 year

Text

Fluffbruary with turtely

(missed days edition)

Day 24

[day 23] [day 25]

prompts: art | needle | slip by @fluffbruary <3

fandom: BBC Sherlock

will be uploaded to "That Stuff Called Fluff" on Ao3!

A/N: i'm so sorry about the slow updates! then again it's kind of an extra treat in march right?

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

I had just halfheartedly started a sketch of the surroundings - it wasn't all too exciting if I'm honest - when they caught my eyes. Two men, obviously a couple. The tall one with dark curls... only softening his eyes when he laid them on his partner. The shorter one a strong posture... taken apart every time the taller touched him. They were adorable.

Quickly I flipped my current page to a new untouched one of my sketch-pad. I sharpened my pencil hurriedly, looked at them and started sketching. They were standing but constantly moving nonetheless. The taller said something, the shorter, probably a bit older, man, judging by his greying hair, throwing his head back laughing. An almost unnoticeable smile dancing on the other man's lips. The younger pointing at someone and talking what seemed incredibly fast for a whole minute. Quickly I tried to eternalise the other's amazement in his eyes on paper. Then the older added something and it was the younger man's turn to stare at the other with puzzlement. They looked into each other's eyes for an eternity and I tried my best to put their chemistry on paper. Then they kissed, and while other people might feel like they were intruding their privacy, I analysed their faces closely and my eyes almost never left them. When they finally parted, I realised they were holding hands and I saw they had rings on each of their left hands. Engaged, then, I concluded. Another quick sketch, and when I looked up the next time I was unaware of my smile - until it fell. They were gone.

I looked at my sketch, a chaotic combination of meaningful moments between a couple. And suddenly I realised: I couldn't keep it. I needed them to have it. So I grabbed my sketchbook, put it under my arm, looked out for a curly and a greying blond head and ran. Leaving my scaffold and other art supplies behind but I didn't care. I caught up to them and grabbed one of them by his arms. Surprised and confused they turned around. A bit out of breath I said, "I- I saw you standing over there and you caught my attention. Here!", I handed them my drawing. I had drawn them laughing, their intense eye contact, their kiss, their intertwined hands with their engagement rings on - the sketches overlapping, with my attempt to capture it all. Their eyes wandered across the paper and grew: they liked what they saw. I couldn't hide a proud smirk. The blond man looked up, "That is stunning. Would you sell that? How much is it?"

I waved my hand. "This is a fifteen minute sketch with no details. I don't usually do this, but it's for free. You are a beautiful couple by the way. Consider it my engagement gift!", I turned around, not wanting to give them a chance to pull money out and insisting on paying.

"Wait!", a deeper different voice called out. I turned around again. Curly Hair seemed impressed I had caught up on their engagement. "Please. Sign your art at least."

I looked at the sketch, indeed - no signature - and nodded. Quickly I placed my initials in the corner. "The residents call me 'the woman artist' around here, because I am the only female one around.", I explained. "But you can call me Irene."

"Thank you, Irene." they said in unison. They looked at each other, eyes thick with love, and I had to grin again.

"You're welcome, darlings. Have a great day!" I said and finally turned around, already scanning the crowd for another subject.

But I knew, they'd be my favourite for a long time, maybe forever.

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

A/N: if someone feels inspired to draw this chaotic sketch - please do! just tag me when posting! it would be an honor 🙏🏼 feel free to contact me if you have more questions ❤︎

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @psychosociogentleman @quickslvxr @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @johnlock2708 @battledress @a-victorian-girl l @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence

#turtely writes #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #fluffbruary with turtely #johnlock #bbc sherlock #day 24 #art #happy about reblogs 🥰#artist irene adler #pov irene adler #sherlock au #johnlock au #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #irene adler #johnlock fic #johnlock ficlet

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thaliaisalesbian · 10 months

Text

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 8: who used to be me

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Steve knows he went to bed with someone on either side of him, so waking up with no one there is a little concerning.

There’s a spike of panic before he recognizes Jonathan’s bedroom, with one of Nancy’s skirts hanging over a chair.

The kids—the kids are out.

They’re not in the Upside Down anymore.

He’s not in the Upside Down anymore.

“You awake, Steve?” Mrs. Byers sits next to him on the bed, feeling his forehead. “Oh, good, your fever’s much lower.”

“Good morning.” He tries to sit up, but it pulls something in his side and then he remembers the stitches.

“It’s almost two, sweetie. It’s not surprising, you were overwhelmed yesterday. You missed Irene’s visit, but she fixed up your stitches and changed your bandages. You won’t be off the IV for a few more days, though. And you'll have the catheter in until you can reliably stand on your own.” He winces despite himself when she mentions that. Steve really just wants to forget it's there.

He hardly remembers waking up yesterday. Hopper was there for a lot of it. El, too. She’d read to him, one of those kids’ chapter books. He thinks if he remembered more of it, he’d know what book it was.

And then the kids. He’d seen them all, they’d had a fort? And then Nancy and Jonathan had made him come back to bed.

“I just need to check those again, and when Jonathan gets home from school, he can help you take a shower. I could help you now, if you’d prefer, or you could wait for Hopper. Whatever you want to do.” A shower sounds fantastic, but he’d rather take one alone.

The main problem is that he won’t be able to stand for that long. Not on his own. It’ll hurt, and if they asked his nurse or whoever, they’d probably say no.

“I think I’ll wait for Jonathan.”

“That’s not a problem.” She props him up on different pillows—one smells a little like the shampoo Nancy uses, so he knows her lying down next to him wasn’t part of a dream or something—and hands him a glass of water.

“So, I’m thinking soup for lunch.” Mrs. Byers doesn’t need him to help keep up the conversation, which is good, because he doesn’t have much of anything to say right now. She talks about the kids’ fort and how they’d gotten to have a sleepover last night, how Hopper’s been talking to that Owens guy and he might have to go to the lab and have some tests run to make sure he’s okay.

She keeps talking the whole time it takes for him to drink the whole glass of water.

It’s half an hour, at least. It settles weirdly in his stomach, and he’s not sure if it’s from the remnants of the fever or if it’s everything else going in his head right now.

“Do you think you can move out to the living room? I can’t carry you, but you can lean on me.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” It’s awkward, because he’s so much taller than she is, but it hurts less than walking alone does, and once he’s in the living room with evidence that the kids were there last night, safe and not dead, he’s able to relax a little more.

The fort is still set up, Will’s art supplies are out, and when he sits on the couch he can see El sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

“Is she…?”

“She’s just fine. You might not remember, but she tried drawing you out of your head yesterday. It tired her out a little, is all. She fell asleep not long before you woke up.”

“Okay.” Still, once Mrs. Byers has come back with the soup, El doesn’t sleep for long.

“You lied.” She looks at him.

“I didn’t lie, El.” On a technicality. “I never promised I would get out first, because I didn’t know what would happen.”

“You are not allowed to be alone now.”

“What?”

“Joyce and Hop said so.”

“El, we were talking about the next few weeks, until he heals up a little more.” Mrs. Byers interjects kindly. “Not ever again. I’m sure even Steve likes time to himself.”

Weeks? He’s not that bad off, he can even walk with help.

“I do, Mrs. Byers. It’d be kind of impossible for someone to be with me all the time anyway, kiddo. We all have school or work.” From the look on Mrs. Byers’ face, he’s going to be getting shit later for calling her ‘Mrs. Byers’, but she won’t say anything in front of El.

Hopefully.

El finally sits down, squishing against his non-bitten side. “You are not allowed to be alone. My rule.”

“El, you can’t go everywhere with me.”

“I will watch instead.”

“No. I love you, kid, but there are things I do that you don’t need to see and I know you can’t watch people for long.”

“It will be… practice.”

“Spying on me doesn’t count as practice.”

“Once a day?”

“No.”

“Every other day?”

“Still no.”

“Three times a week.”

“Nope.”

“Twice a week?” He shakes his head, tugging on her short hair a little. “Once a week?”

“Once a week will work, I guess. But only when I’m at school, and not after 2:30, okay?”

He usually has practice around then, and she doesn’t need to see the boys’ locker room.

If he’s allowed to practice again, that is. He wasn’t allowed to before all of this. His doctor had been very insistent upon it. And with all the new damage to his body… all the new scars… he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle being in a locker room again.

His mother would throw a fit if she could see him now. He's going to scar, that's for sure. And he's too skinny now for even her to think it looks pretty.

He wonders if she even knows that he was gone. He hasn’t asked Mrs. Byers yet; he’s a little scared of what the answer will be.

“Why?”

“I have practice that I have to change for, and after I have to change again. So nothing after 2:30, agreed?”

“Once a week, before two-three-oh.” She repeats, and he knows she’s just messing with him by the little grin on her face.

“You got it, Ellie.”

“No.” Her nose scrunches up and she shakes her head, like she can rid herself of the nickname that way.

“Mom? Can I see Steve now?” Will’s backpack is half unzipped. and if he couldn’t see Jonathan right behind him he might be more worried about him losing all of his schoolwork. For a kid who typically keeps his things organized (or more organized than Steve had at his age, anyway), it’s a strange sight. “Steve!”

“Hey, buddy.” Will’s the one kid he hasn’t really spoken with much—certainly not as much as El, Dustin, and Max. He has a lot more common ground with Lucas, and even Mike, as annoying as he is. Will, though, is quieter, and while they talk when he’s over, it's not the same. Mike is the only other kid who doesn’t call him on the walkies whenever they need something, even if it’s just to talk after a nightmare.

It's because Mike and Will have Nancy and Jonathan, he knows. But he hopes they know they can call him. If they need to.

“You’re awake!”

“Yep, and almost fever-free.”

“You’re not allowed to do that again.” Will looks almost as serious as El had when she’d told him he wasn’t allowed to be alone. He doesn’t quite manage it; his worried face is almost identical to Jonathan’s.

Steve feels like maybe he shouldn’t know that. Or at least, he shouldn’t admit to knowing it. He can’t really remember the first time he realized he was noticing Jonathan, but the fact that it’s been long enough that he’s got his facial expression memorized?

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that.

Will pokes his shoulder lightly when he doesn’t answer. “I can’t make that promise, Will.”

“So you won’t make it to me, either?” Jonathan asks, and if it weren’t for El, his nearly-empty soup bowl would have spilled all over the carpet. Since when does Jonathan care about him putting himself in danger?

He's probably just saying it for the kids' sake.

Jonathan can’t mean it any other way, right?

(He doesn’t let himself think about the way Nancy and Jonathan had clearly shared a bed with him last night.)

“You know why I can’t.” Steve’s not going to say he’ll stop putting himself in danger when it really means he’s giving the kids time to run, get help, whatever.

��Jonathan,” Mrs. Byers says, maybe sensing that this is probably going to derail into an argument of everyone against him trying to get him to make a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep, “would you mind picking out a new set of clothes for Steve? He’s not quite steady enough on his feet for him to shower alone, so it was best to wait.”

“Of course, Mom.” He stops by the couch to give her a kiss on the cheek and ruffle El’s hair.

Steve tries to ignore the way his stomach sours when Jonathan doesn’t touch him at all. He knows what Jonathan thinks of him, he can’t let himself forget that.

“Will, El, please start taking the fort down.”

El looks like she’s going to remain stubbornly pressed against Steve’s side for a minute, but she does pull away without prompting to help Will.

“And you,” Mrs. Byers turns to him, trying to pull off stern but not quite hitting it with the way her lips turn up at the corners. “Call me Joyce. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that.”

“Maybe just once more, Mrs. Byers,” He says, just to be cheeky.

“Oh, you!” She laughs. “Jonathan, come get Steve! He thinks he’s funny.”

finish on ao3 or under the cut

Walking with Jonathan is easier than walking with Joyce, at least. They’re closer in height, and he’s not as worried he’s going to crush Jonathan.

Actually, he probably wouldn’t even crush El right now.

“I didn’t know if you’d want a t-shirt or a sweatshirt so I grabbed both.” Jonathan explains once they’re in the bathroom. “Do you just need me to stay in the room?”

He'd love to say no, but he doesn’t think he can.

Once he’s sat on the edge of the tub, Steve can feel his energy flagging. He’d been fine in the living room, and the walk wasn’t even as far as Jonathan’s bedroom, so he doesn’t know why he’s crashing.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You can just go back to bed, man, you’ve gone grey.”

“No, we’re already in here.”

“You’re not taking a shower, then. Come on, arms up.” Jonathan somehow manages to strip him down to his boxers.

“Hang on.” Jonathan steps outside the bathroom for a minute, or maybe it’s five. He can’t really tell right now.

“Mom says your stitches can’t get wet, but your ankles will be okay. We’ll just have to rewrap them.” Jonathan covers the bandages on his torso in plastic wrap and takes the ones on his ankles off altogether.

“And Nancy called, she stopped by your house to get you a few things.”

“Okay.” Steve lets Jonathan worry about the water temperature and soap and everything else. Even sitting up without a backrest is taking so much thought, because he has to worry about not popping a stitch.

He hadn’t had time to be this worried about his ankles in the Upside Down, and it’s weird to be thinking about his wounds constantly now.

“Nancy will be here soon, do you just want to sit under the water until she gets here? She mentioned washing your hair for you.” He nods, and Jonathan half-lifts, half-dumps him into the bathtub. He barely fits, but that’s okay, because if he wasn’t forced into sitting up he’s not sure he’d be able to right now.

When Joyce said Steve was awake, Nancy wasn’t expecting to find him nearly passed out in the bathtub. Jonathan’s sitting on the edge, holding a wet washcloth like he’s never seen one before.

“Boys.” She mutters under her breath, not really thinking about it. “You know he wouldn’t have cared, right?” What Steve might care about, though, is the catheter bag on his leg. Joyce and Hopper take care of it, mostly, but Irene had wanted them to learn, too.

“No, he did some of it. I think he just likes sitting under the running water, honestly. It’s probably the first time he’s been clean in weeks.”

She sets down the bag she packed up at Steve’s house; some of his clothes (but not too many, because she thinks she likes seeing him in Jonathan’s and that’s a thought for later), a blanket she knows he finds it hard to sleep without, and his hair products. Not all of them, she doesn’t think he uses them all every day anyway, but enough.

“Nance?” It’s quiet, almost slurred.

“Hey, Steve.” He hardly reacts as she cups water in her hands and carefully pours it over his head.

She should have grabbed a cup from the kitchen. She washes his hair for him carefully.

Nancy’s glad he's not up to conversation, really. She'd probably tell him something she's not ready to… or something he’s not ready to hear.

Tommy had asked about him today. He’d pulled her aside between second and third period, the only ones she doesn’t have time to meet with Jonathan between, and asked her why he’s gone.

She’d had to tell him she didn’t know, and she hadn’t been all that upset about the lie.

He hadn’t pushed.

She’s not sure she wants to tell Steve about that. Tommy might be a safe enough topic, right now.

But she doesn’t want to, not when he’s like this, half-asleep and pliable.

Looking at them like they could leave him to drown in here and that’d be okay.

Instead, she talks about the kids’ latest campaign—he pays more attention to them than he lets on, she knows, because she’s seen him at the school library looking up different terms and rules. He relaxes into her hands when she works the shampoo into his hair.

He’d let her do anything she wanted to, right now.

She wants him to look at her like that in much better situations than this one.

Jonathan must have dug around in the cupboards, because he has a cup ready to rinse the shampoo out, and she could kiss him for it.

“Hi.” Steve looks up at them both, and with his hair wet like this, she can see the little scars from the plate on his head.

To avoid tracing over them with her fingers, she picks up the conditioner and squeezes it maybe a little too hard.

Jonathan doesn’t seem to have the same issue; when she looks at them again, he’s got one hand tilting Steve’s chin up, the fingertips of his other hand delicately finding the paths the scars take into his hairline and across his scalp.

If Steve were more with them, she might tell Jonathan to kiss him.

Nancy knows he wants to; they’ve talked about it. Before Steve heard exactly the wrong thing.

But not now.

Not when Steve’s eyes are so hazy she’s not sure he’ll remember this tomorrow.

Not when they haven’t talked to Steve yet, about any of this.

None of them speak as she rinses out the conditioner, when Jonathan pulls the stopper, when they get Steve changed into a pair of Jonathan’s pants and one of his own slightly-too-big sweatshirts, no t-shirt underneath.

(It’s one she knows fit him perfectly last year.)

They wait until they’ve got him back in bed to rewrap his ankles.

And if Steve grabs each of their wrists loosely—fingers trembling like even this is too much for him to handle—when they try to leave, they don’t have to tell anyone that’s the reason they stay.

They don’t have to tell anyone they weren’t really going to leave anyway.

<- 7 9 ->

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luna-redamancy · 2 years

Note

Hi beautiful! I hope you like my commission:

Thorin's little daughter coloring or painting and adding sparkles and ribbons to the orcrist, in the end it kinda looks like cartoon kitty kissy face with ribbons hanging on the handle and her only explanation is: it looked boring before! Now it at least looks pretty.

Reader (thorin's wife, who's been with him since the quest) can't help but laugh and agree. Just family fluff moments :) - Irene <3

Ohmygoodness Irene, I loved writing this so much! I hope you love it as much as I do:

It was quiet, oddly quiet, you noted as you looked up from your papers, your eyes narrowing as you listened in for the sound of giggles or little feet running on the floor. It was just before high noon, and your daughter was nowhere to be found.

“Thorin,” You caught your husband’s attention, who looked up from his adjacent desk, looking at you with a concerned expression.

“What is it?”

“Where’s kurkarukê (my little raven)?” You stood from your desk, brows furrowing. It was too quiet. Normally she would have been running in and out, demanding to be in your lap, playing with your desk supplies, then running to Thorin and playing with his hair before then loudly exclaiming how hungry she was for the three of you to go enjoy lunch together.

“I haven’t seen her since this morning and she isn’t due for nap time until later this afternoon, after lunch,” You explained, rounding your desk. This was not like her. She was not a quiet child, no, she was loud and boisterous and craved excitement, much like her cousin, Kili.

“Didn’t Balin agree to look after her since we had our council meeting this morning?”

Pausing in your strides, you ran through your memory as you began to bite at your lip. “Yes, he did, but that was hours ago…”

“Surely he would have brought her back after they were done with their activities,” Thorin reassured, knowing how worried and protective you get over your little child.

“Right…” You mumbled, looking at the door with your furrowed expression remaining.

Chuckling amusedly to himself, Thorin shook his head. “Go check on her, you know you want to.”

“I think I will,” You agreed, walking to his desk to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t work too hard while I’m gone,” You teased, a grin forming on your face as he leaned upwards to press a kiss to your own cheek.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” He grumbled, looking to the stack of letters he had yet to formally address.

Exiting the Royal Office, you headed straight to Balin’s office. Maybe he had her set up to do some arts and crafts while her father and yourself worked.

“Kurkarukê? Balin?” You called as you rapped your knuckles on the door, a grin growing on your face as you heard her begin to squeal with giggles.

“What’s going on, hm?” You spoke out loud as you entered the office. She was laying on her stomach by herself on the floor, Balin nowhere in sight as she poured what appeared to be “stardust” that you two bought in the market a few days ago.

“Make pretty!” She giggled with glee as her little legs kicked in the air, amusement clear in her voice as she sat up to grab bright pink and green ribbon.

“Oh?” You inquired, walking forward, expecting to see a piece of paper or maybe a wooden toy Bofur had crafted for her–

“Is that… Your father’s sword?” You did your best to keep your composure as you knelt beside her, watching as she began to wrap the handle in the green ribbon.

“Mhm!” She nodded, tongue sticking out as she carefully turned the sword to wrap underneath it. The blade’s shiny reflective surface was soon covered beneath wrappings of thick vibrant green. Only now did you notice the gold detailing on it.

“What’re you doing now?” You couldn’t help but ask, realizing she’s taking away room to pour more of her glitter.

“Gotta wrap it, amad (mother),” She said simply, not really paying you any mind. “Why do we have to wrap it?”

“So no ouchies,” She said in a tone that reflected how silly she thought your question was, almost as if the word “duh” was lingering on her tongue but out of respect she chose to not say it.

“Ah, silly me,” You pretended to smack your forehead as you sat down properly.

“And this?” You held up the roll of pink ribbon.

“Bows!” She cheered, gluing down the rest of the green ribbon so it would hold in place before launching into action.

She gripped the pink ribbon and carefully made little bows before taking her glue and gluing it onto the handle.

“What do you think about a big bow?” You encouraged with a grin on your face, causing her own lit up with the realization that she can make a giant bow to go on the tip of the sword.

“Help, amad?”

“Amad helps,” You agreed, grabbing a large section of the ribbon. “Where do you want it?”

“Here!” She grabbed the tip, and if it was not wrapped so meticulously in green ribbon, you would’ve panicked about her cutting herself.

“Alright,” You nodded, wrapping the ribbon around the tip of the sword to make a large extravagant bow.

“How’s that?”

“Pretty,” She cooed, eyes wide as she looked at your bows compared to hers.

“Can…Can we do ribbon on the handle, too?” She asked, holding out the green ribbon.

“Yeah? How would you want it on the ribbon, bunnanunê? (My tiny treasure)”

She got a serious look on her face and brought her hand up to her mouth, much like you’ve caught yourself doing when you’re thinking hard about something. A warm feeling swarmed your stomach as you realized she was picking up on your mannerisms.

“Like…Little tass..tas…”

“Tassels?” You threw out the word, brows furrowing as you tried to figure out what word she was attempting to say.

“Yeah!” She screeched in happiness, nearly falling back when you got what she meant, making a smile bloom on your face.

“Tassles it is!”

The next five minutes were spent decorating the Orcrist, her little giggles making there way to Thorin as he exited the office, concerned when you didn’t come back.

“(Y/n)?” He called out, making his way to Balin’s door.

“Thorin,” Balin greeted in the hallway, holding a tray of tea and cookies.

“Is (D/N) in your office?” Thorin tilted his head, but his question actually answered itself when he heard her fall into a fit of laughs again.

“I think I hear your adad (father),” You whispered, getting up off the ground. “Come… Let’s show him your hard work.”

“Yes!” She pushed herself up to stand and began to drag the sword.

Thorin furrowed his brow, looking between the door and Balin.

“What is that sound-”

The office door flung open just as your daughter was able to hold the sword upright. What was once a terrifying weapon crafted by fine Elvish blacksmiths, was now decorated in vibrant purple paint, glitter, ribbon and so…Many…Bows.

Opening and shutting his mouth repeatedly, Thorin looked between your daughter and you, confusion in his expression. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your mouth, immediately bringing your hand under your nose to hide your grin as you pretended to cough.

“What’s…” He cleared his throat, “What is all of this?”

“Your sword was so boring, adad,” (D/N) groaned but grinned soon after, smile blinding as she held up her masterpiece. “But now…It’s acceptable.”

“Acceptable for what?”

“Play-time…Obviously.” The sass she held back for you was no longer hidden as she engaged with her father.

“Do you like it?” Her eyes went big as she gauged her father’s reaction, and you couldn’t help but give Thorin the stare. ‘You better tell this child how fabulous her art is,’ is what your expression said as Thorin gave a pained smile.

“It’s beautiful, Khajimel (gift of all gifts).”

“Yay!” She cheered, swinging the sword around. “Amad helped!” She hugged onto your legs as Thorin raised a brow at you.

“Did she now?” Gulping at his reply, you couldn’t help but nod.

“She needed help with her big bow and tassels, as a mother, it’s obvious that my duty was to help her maximize her crafting potential,” You defended, demeanor calm as you petted (D/N)’s hair.

“Maximize the potential” She echoed your sentiment, lip movements exaggerated as she swiveled her head, making you burst into laughter.

“Maximize indeed,” Thorin murmured fondly as Balin chuckled.

“After all that crafting, I think surely you need a snack little one?”

“Yes, please!” She grinned at Balin, sword forgotten on the ground as she bounded off with him to his desk to eat the cookies he brought.

“Maximize her crafting potential?” Thorin quirked his brow at you as he chuckled under his breath, bringing you into a hug.

“Absolutely,” You mumbled as he pressed your foreheads together.

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