#anyways. adventure in paint pens

[mononijikayu]

stuff we did — geto suguru.

“Hey!” you called out, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. “What are you doing?” Suguru looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “I’m trying to figure out what’s inside. This place looks like it’s been abandoned forever.” You stepped closer, your own curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s haunted?” Suguru grinned, his imagination clearly running wild. “Maybe! Or maybe it’s just full of old, forgotten things. Either way, I bet there are some really cool secrets in there.” You looked at the house, its weathered appearance now seeming a bit more inviting. “Do you want to explore it together?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Modern AU;

WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Hurt/ Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Suguru, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Comfort, Falling In Love, Pining, Slice of Life, Humor, Domesticity, Miscarriage, Infertility, Character Death, Depiction of Infertility, Depiction of Hospital Visit, Depiction of Illness, Depiction of Old Age, Mention of Miscarriage, Mention of Infertility, Mention of Character Death, This Is One Of My Favorites In A Long Whille, My Writing Vault Is Just Angst;

WORDS: 8.9k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was written a while while back and i just finished proof reading it to suit what i wanted to see. this was inspired by both queen of tears and the film up, which was just the most beautiful movie ive seen over and over. i hope you enjoy this a lot and that you'll be just as moved as me. i promise i'll be back with fluff soon enough!!! i genuinely cried at the end. anyway, i hope you love it. i love you guys!!! thank you for reading <3

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A WHOLE LIFETIME WAS WAITING FOR HIM. At ten years old, Suguru Geto was a dreamer with a spark in his eyes that hinted at a life full of exploration and wonder.

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It was an ordinary afternoon, the sun casting long shadows as you wandered through the neighborhood, when you stumbled upon the abandoned house. Its once-grand façade was now a patchwork of peeling paint and overgrown vines, and the wooden fence sagged in places, as if it were barely holding on to its secrets.

You had been intrigued by the house for weeks, often imagining what mysteries lay behind its dust-covered windows. That day, you decided to finally investigate, only to find someone already there. Suguru was crouched by the front gate, peering through the rusty bars with a look of intense concentration.

“Hey!” you called out, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. “What are you doing?”

Suguru looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “I’m trying to figure out what’s inside. This place looks like it’s been abandoned forever.”

You stepped closer, your own curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s haunted?”

Suguru grinned, his imagination clearly running wild. “Maybe! Or maybe it’s just full of old, forgotten things. Either way, I bet there are some really cool secrets in there.”

You looked at the house, its weathered appearance now seeming a bit more inviting. “Do you want to explore it together?”

Suguru’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Let’s make it our clubhouse. We can turn it into our secret base where we plan all our adventures.”

The two of you both pushed open the creaky gate and made your way up the overgrown path to the front door. Inside, dust motes danced in the beams of sunlight filtering through the broken windows. The air was musty, but the promise of discovery filled you with a sense of excitement.

“This place is amazing!” Suguru exclaimed, running his hand along an old wooden beam. “Imagine all the things we could do here, don’t you think? We could have treasure hunts, build secret compartments, and even create maps of our adventures!”

You smiled, already swept up in the excitement. “And we could scrapbook all of our adventures. I’ve got a ton of stickers and colored pens at home. We could make it like a journal of our explorations!”

Suguru’s eyes lit up with delight. “That sounds perfect. We’ll make this place the coolest clubhouse ever!”

With the possibilities swirling in both your minds, you turned to Suguru, realizing you hadn't properly introduced yourselves yet. “Oh, by the way, I’m…….”

Suguru grinned, his enthusiasm still bubbling over. “Suguru Geto. Looks like we’re gonna be partners in adventure!”

The two of you spent hours exploring every nook and cranny of the house. Suguru’s enthusiasm was contagious, pulling you deeper into the magic of the place. Every corner held a new discovery, a forgotten relic of time that sparked your imaginations. You both laughed as you uncovered old, dusty furniture, imagining all the stories it could tell.

Suguru, always the dreamer, crouched by an ancient-looking wardrobe and peered inside. “What if this belonged to a pirate?” he mused, brushing away cobwebs. “Maybe they stashed their maps and treasures in here before sailing off for another adventure.”

You chuckled, running your fingers over the faded carvings on a wooden chair. “Or maybe it was a writer, sitting here every night by candlelight, crafting tales of far-off lands.”

Suguru stood up, eyes gleaming. “We could be the next storytellers! We can make up stories about this place—maybe even start our own treasure hunt for future explorers.”

“I love that idea!” you grinned, already envisioning the elaborate maps and clues you could create together. “This whole house could be our playground.”

As you explored further, you found hidden doorways and forgotten passageways, each discovery filling you both with a sense of wonder. There was an old attic with creaky floorboards that groaned under your weight, and a cellar that held shelves of ancient, dusty jars—relics of a time long past. Suguru’s energy never faltered, and neither did yours. It was as if the house had become an extension of your shared imagination, every forgotten room a new world to explore.

At one point, Suguru turned to you, breathless from excitement. “Can you believe how much potential this place has? We could make it anything we want! A fortress, a secret hideout, a museum for all the stuff we find!”

You nodded eagerly, already planning how you’d decorate each room with artifacts from your adventures. “We’ll turn it into our own world.”

Suguru’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “We’ve gotta make sure no one else finds it, though. This is our secret spot.”

“Deal!” you said, sealing the pact with a grin.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the house, Suguru turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “You know, one day we’re going to see the whole world. Just like those great explorers. This clubhouse will be our starting point.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of deep connection with Suguru. “I’d like that. I think we’ll have the best adventures together.”

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YOU THINK THAT ADVENTURE WAS THE WAY TO GETO SUGURU’S HEART. When you started to get to know him, you couldn’t help but notice the way Suguru’s eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement whenever the topic of exploration came up.

It was as though each conversation opened a window into his boundless curiosity, and you found yourself drawn to the light in his gaze, the way it brightened with every new idea or story he shared. 

Geto Suguru’s fascination with the world wasn’t just a passing interest—it was a deep passion, woven into the very fabric of who he was. He could turn even the smallest details into an adventure, transforming mundane objects or places into portals to other worlds. You can tell that he was a born story–teller. Born to know the wonders of the wider world.

Whenever he spoke of famous explorers, his voice would rise with enthusiasm, as if their courage and daring lived within him. Marco Polo’s travels along the Silk Road, Amelia Earhart’s fearless flight into the unknown—Suguru recounted their tales with such vivid detail, it felt as though you were right there alongside them, venturing into uncharted lands.

“He didn’t just travel, you know what I mean?” Suguru once said of Marco Polo, eyes alight with admiration. “That guy managed to help open some doors to a whole new world. Can you imagine that? Being the first to set foot somewhere no one even knew existed?”

You nodded, already swept up in the vision he painted as you kicked your feet. “It’s like the whole world was waiting to be found.”

Suguru smiled, and there was a quiet thrill in his voice. “Exactly! That’s the magic of it—everything’s an adventure if you look at it the right way.”

It didn’t take long before his excitement became infectious. These days, you just feel like that when you are around Suguru. Just as quickly, you could only find yourself equally captivated by the idea of exploring far-off places and uncovering their mysteries. Geto Suguru had a way of making even the ordinary seem extraordinary. 

He would point out things that others might pass by without a second glance—a strange rock, an oddly shaped tree, or even the patterns in the clouds—and turn them into puzzles waiting to be solved. His mind was always buzzing with “what-ifs” and “maybes” sparking conversations that seemed to stretch on for hours as you both imagined worlds within worlds, hidden just beneath the surface of reality.

“I wonder what it would be like to be Amelia Earhart too!” he mused once, as you both sat on a hill, gazing at the horizon. “To fly into the unknown, chasing the horizon, not knowing what’s on the other side but going anyway.”

“Scary, but exciting, don’t you think?” you replied, feeling a twinge of that same wanderlust Suguru seemed to carry with him at all times. “It’s like you’re both lost and free at the same time.”

Suguru nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s exactly it. The unknown is terrifying, but that’s what makes it so… beautiful. There’s always something more to discover. And I…I just can’t wait to find out all of it!”

It was moments like these that deepened your bond. His wonderment was contagious, and soon you began to see the world through his eyes, where even the smallest things held the promise of adventure. Whether it was the forgotten corners of an old house or the distant lands of long-gone explorers, with Suguru, everything became part of an ongoing quest. 

You realized that it wasn’t just about the places you would explore, but the way he looked at the world—with a wide-eyed excitement that made you feel like every day held a new mystery, waiting to be uncovered. And you wanted to be there with him. Just beside him. Because to be with him, you like to think that you would find nothing but a wonder if you were there.

He had a knack for finding the magic in the mundane, and it opened your own bright eyes to the wonders around you. What once seemed ordinary now felt like it held endless possibilities, all thanks to Suguru’s infectious spirit. 

He showed you that adventure wasn’t just something that happened in faraway places—it could be anywhere, even in the most unexpected moments. You didn’t have to cross oceans to find excitement; sometimes, it was right in front of you, if only you knew where to look. And with Suguru, you were learning how to see it.

This weekend afternoon, as you and Suguru sat cross-legged on the floor of your clubhouse, surrounded by colorful supplies and old maps, Suguru began sharing his latest dream with you. The sunlight streamed through the dusty windows, casting a warm, golden light on the room.

“You know…..” Suguru said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I read about this amazing place called the Himalayas. It’s full of towering mountains, and some of them are so high that they touch the sky. Can you imagine climbing one of those?”

You looked up from your sketchbook, eyes wide with wonder. “That sounds incredible! What would it be like to stand on top of one of those mountains?”

Suguru’s face broke into a smile as he imagined the scene. You like to think that he had the most beautiful smile in the world. “It would be breathtaking. You’d feel like you’re on top of the world. And there’s this special mountain called Everest—people say it’s like touching the edge of the heavens!”

With a gleeful chuckle, Suguru grabbed a pencil and began sketching a mountain range in your scrapbook. “We should definitely put this in our adventure book. We’ll draw mountains and imagine ourselves climbing them.”

You nodded eagerly, already picturing the pages of your scrapbook filled with sketches and notes. “Absolutely. And we can write about all the things we’d see and do. Maybe we’ll even draw ourselves in climbing gear, standing triumphantly at the summit!”

As the weeks went by, the scrapbook became a canvas for your shared dreams. Each page was a tribute to the places Suguru talked about with such passion. There were intricate drawings of ocean vistas, with waves crashing against rocky shores, and sprawling cityscapes with towering skyscrapers and bustling streets.

Geto Suguru’s descriptions were so vivid that you could almost hear the sounds and smell the scents of these distant lands. He just knew how to give you the wide world to you in the vibrant brighteness no one could.

As you worked on the scrapbook together, Suguru’s excitement reached a new peak. “I’ve been reading about this incredible city called Istanbul. It’s where East meets West, and there are markets full of colorful spices and beautiful mosaics everywhere. I think it would be amazing to see it in person.”

You looked at the sketch Suguru had just added, depicting a bustling market scene with vibrant colors and intricate patterns. “It looks so lively and full of culture. I’d love to experience it with you. Maybe we could even learn a few phrases in Turkish before we go.”

Suguru nodded, clearly thrilled by the idea. “Yes! And we can try all the different foods and maybe even buy some souvenirs to bring back to our clubhouse.”

As the scrapbook filled up, it became a treasure trove of aspirations and memories. The house, once an abandoned relic, was now a haven for your dreams, where the world beyond your doorstep felt just a little bit smaller and a whole lot more reachable.

As you look at him, you couldn’t help but smile. Your scrapbook would be an adventure as long as you had him.

IT WAS EASY TO SEE THAT YOU LIKED HIM. As the years passed, as you both grew older—the bond between you and Suguru deepened in ways that neither of you had anticipated. Nothing has changed and yet it has.

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You couldn’t even understand how you could describe it. What had begun as a playful friendship, sparked by shared adventures and dreams, evolved into a profound connection that anchored both of your lives moving forward.

The seasons changed, and so did the nature of your relationship. As the crisp air of autumn gave way to the first frost of winter, something subtle yet profound shifted between you two.

Your weekends, once filled with the solitary pursuit of sketching mountains far off in the distance or wistfully dreaming of cities you had yet to explore, began to take on a new rhythm. These quiet moments of creativity were now shared, woven into times of meaningful conversations that deepened your connection.

The clubhouse, once a refuge for your art and ideas, had evolved alongside you both. It was no longer just a place to retreat but had grown into a cozy home filled with warmth and a sense of belonging. The walls, once bare and practical, were now alive with a collage of your memories—scrapbook pages pinned up like trophies of the adventures you’d had together. 

Here, in the dim light of your clubhouse-turned-home, time seemed to slow. Conversations stretched long into the evening, filled with laughter, confessions, and sometimes a comfortable silence that spoke more than words ever could.

You realized that it wasn't just about the places you wanted to visit or the mountains you hoped to climb. It was about these moments—right here, right now—that had been shaping the most important journey of all: the one you were taking together.

You and Suguru sat on the porch of your clubhouse. The place had become a sanctuary for the two of you, and tonight, it felt even more so. Wrapped in thick, warm blankets, you watched the sun slowly sink below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of soft gold, pink, and lavender. The fading light bathed the world in a warm, almost magical glow, a contrast to the growing chill in the air.

But something else lingered in the quiet of that evening—an unspoken tension. Suguru, always steady and thoughtful, had been unusually silent. You could sense that something weighed heavily on his mind. His usual animated presence, the one that balanced your own, seemed subdued. 

He stared out at the trees, their leaves a patchwork of fiery reds and oranges, but his thoughts were clearly somewhere else. The contemplative look on his face was deeper than the usual moments of introspection he had.

You knew him well enough to understand that silence was part of who he was—he often found comfort in it—but this was different. This wasn’t just quiet; it was an absence of something.

The air, cool against your skin, seemed to press in, amplifying the stillness between you. It felt as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to be said. You didn’t push him; you knew better than that.

With Suguru, patience was key. He always opened up in his own time, and when he did, it was always worth the wait. You could tell he was wrestling with something important—something that couldn’t be rushed.

You glanced over at him, his face softened by the golden light of the setting sun. His expression was unreadable, yet you could sense the conflict beneath the surface.

It was as though the quiet had become a shield for him, a way to protect himself from whatever thoughts he was trying to sort out. You wondered if he even knew how to begin talking about it, or if he was still trying to make sense of it for himself.

The porch creaked as you shifted slightly in your seat, the only sound breaking the stillness. The leaves continued to fall, gently drifting to the ground, but the world around you felt frozen in that moment, waiting for Suguru to speak. Whatever was on his mind, you knew it was important, and you were ready to listen when he was ready to share.

You glanced at him, sensing that something was on his mind. “Hey, Suguru.” you said gently, “is everything okay? You seem a bit… distant.”

Suguru turned to you, his eyes reflecting the fading sunlight. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” he began slowly, “about us, and about everything we’ve shared.”

You felt a flutter of nerves in your chest but kept your voice steady. “What about us?”

Suguru took a deep breath, his fingers intertwined with yours. “You know how we’ve always dreamed about exploring the world together? Well, lately, I’ve been thinking that the greatest adventure of all is the one we’re already on. The one where we’re building a life together.”

You looked at him, your heart racing as you realized what he was about to say. Suguru’s face softened into a gentle smile, and he continued, “I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. You’ve been my partner in every adventure, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”

The world seemed to pause as you processed his words. Your feelings for Suguru had grown from admiration and friendship into a deep, abiding love. You had felt it for some time but hadn’t fully acknowledged it until this moment.

“I love you too, Suguru.” you replied, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re my best friend, my confidant, and the person I want to share my life with.”

Suguru’s bright purple eyes sparkled with happiness, and he reached out to hold you close. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, and you felt a profound sense of belonging. From that evening onward, your relationship transformed. 

You both began to plan not just for the next adventure but for a future together. You talked about dreams of traveling the world, but also about building a home, starting a family, and creating a life rich with shared experiences. 

The future you envisioned was no longer just about distant places or grand plans; it was about the everyday moments and the life you would build side by side. You found joy in the small things—quiet dinners, laughter over shared memories, and the simple pleasure of being together. And for each of those moments, you would both be together. For every last one.

And from that moment, everything felt like a flash, a blur of time passing with both rapidity and grace. Years slipped through your fingers like sand, but each one seemed to deepen the bond you and Suguru shared. 

You both arrived at the house, this time not as wide-eyed dreamers, but as people ready to take action. You were equipped with the resources, knowledge, and expertise that had been hard-earned over the years. What once seemed impossible now felt within reach.

The house had transformed, much like the relationship you shared. The wild, overgrown vines that had once snaked across its facade had been cut away, revealing the clean lines of the structure underneath.

The sagging fence, which had leaned precariously for years, had been replaced by a sturdy, welcoming one. Even the gate—the one that had creaked and stuck when you were kids—now swung open smoothly, inviting you in with a sense of ease and possibility. 

Standing there together, gazing at the house, the nostalgia hit you both in waves. You could still remember the first time you stumbled upon it, back when the future felt like a distant, far-off dream. But now, it wasn’t distant anymore. It was here, within your grasp.

The silence between you was comfortable, filled with anticipation and a shared understanding. You both knew this wasn’t just about restoring an old house. It was about building something together—something that was uniquely yours.

This house, with all its history and imperfections, was about to become the home you had always envisioned. It wasn’t just a physical space. It was a reflection of everything you had been through, everything you had grown into, and everything you had yet to become.

As you exchanged a glance with Suguru, you didn’t need words to know what he was thinking. The years had brought change, but they had also brought clarity. Together, you had always been building something—first with your dreams, then with your actions. And now, you were ready to take that final step, to make this place your home.

“Look at it, baby!” Suguru exclaimed, his voice filled with awe as he gazed at the house. His eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement and pride you hadn't seen in a while. “It’s incredible to see how far we’ve come. I remember the first time we explored this place, imagining what it could become.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion as you took in the sight before you. “It’s amazing. It feels like we’re finally turning our dreams into reality.”

The house had been a vision for so long—an idea you had held onto through thick and thin. Now, as you stood in front of the freshly painted exterior, with the sun glinting off the windows and the scent of fresh grass in the air, it was hard to believe that this place had once been nothing more than an abandoned shell. But it was no longer just an idea or a distant goal. It was real, solid, and yours.

Suguru picked up a paint roller, dipped it into the bucket of soft, pastel blue paint you had both agreed on, and turned toward the wall with a grin. “This is the fun part, don’t you think?” he said, rolling a stripe of color onto the previously bare wood. “It’s like coloring outside the lines, but now we get to make the lines too.”

You laughed and grabbed your own roller, eager to join in. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, mister. This is a team effort.”

Soon, the two of you were painting side by side, your laughter filling the crisp air as you carefully applied the vibrant colors to your home. The soft hum of birds chirping in the distance and the gentle rustling of leaves set the perfect backdrop for your playful banter. Every brushstroke felt like a step closer to bringing your shared vision to life.

At one point, Suguru turned toward you, his roller dripping with paint, and a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “You know what’s missing here?” he asked, his voice playful.

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be suspicious. “What?”

“An artist's touch!” Before you could react, Suguru flicked his roller in your direction, sending a spray of pastel blue paint across your shirt.

Your eyes widened in mock horror as you looked down at the splatters of paint now decorating your clothes. “Suguru!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-gasping. “You’re in so much trouble!”

Without hesitation, you dipped your roller into the paint and aimed it squarely at him, sending a cascade of blue across his chest. Suguru's bright purple eyes went wide in surprise, then he broke into a wide grin.

“Oh, it’s on now,” he said, stepping toward you with his paintbrush raised like a sword. What started as an innocent painting session quickly turned into a playful paint war, the walls momentarily forgotten as you splattered each other with streaks of pastel blue. 

You squealed as he rushed off with a dash and followed you. His laughter was just as much the best part of the progress you think. It was like the music that was missing in your life. And it never stopped that afternoon and you were content.

The soft spring breeze carried your laughter, and for a few moments, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Suguru, in the moment, covered in paint and joy.

At some point, you collapsed onto the grass together, breathless from laughter and covered in splashes of color. The house loomed behind you, its newly painted walls gleaming in the sunlight, but all you could focus on was the way Suguru looked at you, his face smeared with paint, his eyes filled with warmth and happiness.

He reached over and gently wiped a smudge of blue from your cheek, his touch tender. “Look at us, baby.” he said softly, his voice a mix of awe and affection. “We’re a mess, but this—everything we’ve built together—it’s beautiful.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Yeah babe.” you agreed, your heart full. “It really is.”

Just like that, this once old abandoned soul was starting to come back to life before your eyes. It reminded you of all those dreams you had shared with Suguru for so many years. And in that moment, as you sat in the grass with your husband—covered in paint, laughter, and love—you realized that this, right here, was the real dream coming true.

That cool summer night as you both sat together on the porch of your newly renovated home, watching the sunset paint the sky with shades of pink and orange, Suguru turned to you with a contented smile. You had never seen him this happy in your entire lives together. And it suited him. More than you think he’d understand. 

“I never imagined this day would come, but here we are. Our adventures didn’t just remain on paper anymore, baby. They became a reality now.”

You leaned against him, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment. “It’s incredible. We’ve seen so much of the world, and now we have this beautiful home that’s a reflection of our journey.”

With your home now complete, you and Suguru embarked on a new chapter of your life.

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LIFE EVEN IN ITS MOST MUNDANE WAS EVERYTHING. As the years went by, your and Suguru’s paths continued to align in the most fulfilling ways. Suguru, inspired by his love for learning and his experiences, decided to become a teacher, just like you.

Both of you found immense satisfaction in shaping young minds and sharing your passion for knowledge. Your combined efforts in education became a cornerstone of your lives, and it was a field where your love for exploration and discovery seamlessly translated into inspiring others.

Your old friends, who had once joined you in those early childhood adventures, also found their way into the field of education. Together, you formed a tight-knit community of educators, all driven by a shared passion for helping students explore their potential. The clubhouse, once the backdrop for your childhood dreams, had become a symbol of your commitment to fostering curiosity and creativity in the next generation.

Even your nights you spent in your home were often filled with lively discussions about teaching methods, innovative ideas for the classroom, and the exciting possibilities of new educational tools.

Your love of exploration, once confined to distant lands, now found a new outlet in the classroom. You and Suguru worked together on projects that encouraged students to think critically and explore the world around them, just as you had done as children.

Suguru, with a nostalgic smile, traced his fingers over a particularly cherished page. “Remember this, baby?” he said, pointing to a sketch of the Himalayas. “We were so excited about climbing those mountains. And now, look at us—living our dreams and sharing them with others.”

You leaned against him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “I do remember. And I’m so grateful for everything we’ve experienced together. This scrapbook is a reminder of how far we’ve come and all the dreams we’ve made real.”

As you both looked through the pages, you realized that the scrapbook was more than just a record of your adventures—it was a reflection of your journey as a couple. It symbolized not only the places you had been and the things you had done but also the love and partnership that had grown alongside them. Everything was perfect. Nothing could be better.

Your careers were flourishing, and life with Geto Suguru was a tapestry of shared happiness. The bond between you had only deepened over time, each day bringing a new layer of intimacy and understanding. 

It was as though your relationship had found a perfect equilibrium, a serene joy that seemed like it could stretch on indefinitely. Your home was filled with the warmth of laughter, the comfort of companionship, and the contentment of having achieved many of your dreams. But still, you felt like something was missing. And your husband knew it too.

Suguru, with his usual thoughtful demeanor, was the first to broach the topic. “You know, baby….” he began, his voice gentle but carrying an undercurrent of contemplation. “We've built something incredible together. Our careers, our lovely home… Everything feels right. But have you ever thought about what might come next?”

You turned to face him, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?” you asked, sensing that there was something more beneath his words.

Suguru hesitated for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “Well, we’ve talked about our future in many ways, but lately, I’ve been thinking about children. About…..about what it might be like to have a family of our own.”

Your husband’s tender words hung in the air, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. The idea had surfaced in fleeting thoughts and half-formed conversations, but hearing it out loud made it feel more real, more tangible.

You considered his words carefully. The thought of children had always been a distant possibility, a dream tucked away among other aspirations. But now, in the warmth of the evening and the comfort of your home, it feels different. It was no longer just an abstract idea; it was something you were both ready to explore.

“I’ve thought about it too, babe.” you admitted, your voice soft but filled with emotion. “It’s strange how this feeling crept up on us. I suppose we always knew that our life together would be about more than just us, that there would be something else to share our love and our world with.”

Suguru reached out and took your hand, his touch reassuring and full of promise. “I think it could be a beautiful next step for us, you know? I know it won’t be easy, and there will be challenges, but I can’t help but feel that it’s the right time.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling a sense of warmth and excitement building within you. “I agree. It feels like we’re ready to open up to this new chapter. I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else but you.”

And that settled your desires to begin unfolding. You both wanted it — to have a family together, to raise a child that would be a reflection of your love. The excitement was palpable, filling the days with a hopeful kind of anticipation. You tried, again and again, but it wasn’t long before the first signs appeared, subtle at first. A growing worry gnawed at you, but you pushed it aside, willing everything to be okay.

Then came the miscarriage.

The room was heavy with silence, the kind that feels suffocating and oppressive. Your eyes were red from the tears you had shed, each one a testament to the depth of your loss. The sterile whiteness of the doctor's office seemed to mock the vibrant dreams you had once held.

The doctor’s words were like a sharp blade cutting through the haze of hope you had been clinging to. “You won’t be able to have children, Mrs. Geto. I am so sorry.” he said softly, his voice compassionate but firm. 

The words hung in the air, each syllable a painful puncture to the fragile balloon of hope that had floated between you and Suguru. At that moment, the world seemed to fall apart.

The colors of the room blurred together, the sounds of the doctor’s voice faded into a distant hum, and the only thing that remained was the crushing weight of the news. It was as if the very foundation of your dreams had shattered, leaving behind a void that seemed too vast to fill.

The future you had imagined—of shared late-night feedings, tiny feet pattering around the house, the joy of watching a child grow—was now nothing more than a distant, unreachable fantasy. The dream you and Suguru had so carefully built together crumbled, leaving behind an aching emptiness that felt like a gaping hole in your heart.

You looked at Suguru, and in his eyes, you saw the same devastation mirrored back at you. The strength and support that had always been a cornerstone of your relationship now felt fragile, as if the very fabric of your shared hopes had been torn apart. His hand reached for yours, trembling slightly, and you could feel the shared grief pulsing between you.

As you and Suguru drove home, the silence in the car was almost unbearable. The world outside seemed muted, as if the colors and sounds had been drained away. The roads stretched out in front of you, but they felt meaningless, like they led nowhere important. The weight of the news settled heavily on your shoulders, and neither of you knew how to break the quiet.

For days, you were unapproachable, lost in a fog of devastation. The loss felt like a gaping chasm that nothing could fill. Conversations became infrequent and strained, and even the comfort of routine seemed distant and hollow. Suguru was there, his presence a constant but silent support, and though he tried to offer solace, the words and gestures seemed inadequate against the depth of your shared grief.

The stillness in the house felt almost oppressive. You found yourself sitting alone in the backyard, the garden now a quiet reflection of your internal turmoil. The familiar sight of your favorite flowers and the gentle rustling of leaves seemed to offer no solace. You sat there, wrapped in a blanket of melancholy, trying to make sense of the void that had settled in your life.

Suguru came out and joined you, quietly taking a seat beside you on the patio. He took a deep breath, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of the world. For a moment, he just sat there, gathering his thoughts, his presence a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions.

“You know, baby…..” he began softly, his voice breaking the heavy silence, “it’s okay to feel like this. It’s okay to not have all the answers or to be okay right away.”

His words were simple but carried a depth of understanding that only someone who truly cared could offer. You turned to look at him, seeing the pain and determination in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to move past this.” you admitted, your voice cracking with emotion.

“I know.” He whispers to you with tenderness. Tenderness you will never truly deserve. “But you know, baby…..We’ll always be together.”

“I know that.” you retorted, your voice tight and strained as you tried to contain the wave of emotion threatening to break free. “But I just… I wish I could have given you a child, you know?  A child that’s a mix of you and me. I just…”

Your words trailed off, leaving a raw vulnerability exposed. The weight of your regrets hung heavily in the air, mingling with the sorrow that had become a constant companion. Suguru’s eyes, usually so full of life and energy, now reflected a deep, pained empathy. 

His purple orbs roamed over your face, taking in the sight of you so broken and anguished. The sight of you in such distress was almost too much for him to bear. His own heart ached at the realization that there was little he could do to ease your pain.

“Does our lifetime of love need to leave evidence?” Suguru asked softly, his voice tender yet resolute. “Does…..does it need more than what there is?”

His question wasn’t just a consolation; it was a reflection of his deep belief in the essence of your relationship. You turned to him, the tears welling in your eyes now spilling over, blurring your vision. The raw honesty in his words cut through the fog of your grief, reaching the core of your heart.

“We have each other now, baby.” Suguru continued, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “And we love each other. That’s all that matters.”

His words were simple but powerful, a balm to the wound that had seemed insurmountable. His words broke something inside of you, not in a painful way, but in a way that let all the pent-up sorrow flow out. 

You sobbed, burying your face in your hands, and Suguru wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you cried. He didn’t say anything more—he didn’t need to. In his embrace, in the warmth of his presence, you found the reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

You cried for the loss, for the future you had dreamed of, but you also cried for the love you still had. Suguru was right. You had each other, and in that love, you found strength. That’s all that truly mattered.

Geto Suguru held you close as your tears flowed, his hands gently rubbing your back, whispering words of comfort that barely reached your ears. But his presence, steady and unwavering, spoke louder than any words could. 

In his arms, you found a fragile sense of peace, a reminder that even in this moment of heartbreak, you weren’t alone. His touch was familiar, grounding, and you turned to look at him. There was a tenderness in his eyes, a deep understanding that made your heart ache in the best way. He smiled at you.

“I know this isn’t what we imagined.” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But I’ve been thinking… Maybe it’s okay if our love doesn’t leave a legacy in the way we thought. Maybe our love can just be… us.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of his words settling into your heart. Suguru had always been your anchor, the person who knew how to pull you back when the world felt too overwhelming. In that moment, you realized that maybe he was right. 

Maybe your love didn’t need to be measured by the future you had imagined, by the children you thought you would have. Maybe it was enough to have each other, to share this life together, and to hold onto the love that had always been there. Maybe this was all there has to be. Maybe….this was enough.

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t filled with sorrow. You squeezed Suguru’s hand, leaning into his warmth. “I love you.” you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. “I love you so much.”

He pulled you into his arms once more, his lips brushing against your temple. “I love you too. Always.”

In that quiet moment, you realized that while the future you had once dreamed of was no longer possible, there was still a future waiting for you. A future where it was just the two of you, building a life together, creating memories that were uniquely yours. And as long as you had Suguru by your side, that was enough.

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YOU LIKE TO THINK THAT YOUR HUSBAND’S DREAMS WERE BEAUTIFUL. Even after everything, your husband Suguru had always been a dreamer. He never gave up even after the rollercoaster life had dealt you. Everything you both went through—the heartache, the healing—he found a new dream. It was no longer about building a family or leaving a legacy. 

His new dream was much simpler, yet so much more meaningful: seeing the world with you. He wanted to explore every corner of the earth by your side, to share in the beauty of new experiences together, and to make memories that would last a lifetime.

There was one place, in particular, that you had always talked about—Grindelwald. The snow-covered mountains, the crisp winter air, the breathtaking views from atop the peaks.

It was a dream you had held close for as long as Suguru could remember, and now, it had become his dream too. He wanted nothing more than to take you there, to hike those snow-dusted trails and see the world unfold beneath you, together.

The two of you started saving for the trip, setting aside small amounts whenever you could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the dream alive. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

Each time you neared your goal, something else would come up—unexpected expenses, repairs, emergencies. And each time, you had to dip into your savings, pushing the dream further and further away.

The years passed, and the dream remained just that—a dream. Life after all was always busy, life had always had other plans. But you were just happy, being with him. Being together was more than enough.

Yet, Geto Suguru never gave up. He never forgot the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about seeing pictures of Grindelwald, and he was determined to make it happen one day, no matter how long it took.

Then, one quiet evening, many years later, your husband Suguru sat across from you, his once dark hair now streaked with bright vibrant silver. His hands were still steady, but time had softened their strength. He looked at you with the same love he always had, and there was something different in his eyes—something hopeful, something excited.

“I have a surprise for you, baby.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two plane tickets, holding them out for you to see.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the destination: Switzerland.

“We’re going, finally!” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re finally going to see Grindelwald.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, a cascade of emotions threatening to spill over, but before you could voice a response, an unfamiliar, sharp ache deep within your body made you pause. It was a discomfort that had been gnawing at you for some time, a persistent shadow that you had tried to ignore. 

At first, you dismissed it as stress or perhaps a lingering side effect of the emotional turmoil you had been through. But as the days turned into weeks, the ache intensified, becoming an unwelcome companion in your life.

You tried to push through it, attributing it to the residual strain of the recent loss and the emotional weight you were carrying. Yet, the pain was relentless, and it wasn’t long before you knew you could no longer ignore it. After several visits to various doctors, numerous tests, and consultations that felt endless, the diagnosis finally came: cancer.

The words hit you like a physical blow, the gravity of the diagnosis sinking into your bones. Cancer. It was a term that seemed to hang in the air, heavy with implications and uncertainty. The doctors’ explanations, though thorough and compassionate, felt distant and detached, as if they were speaking a language you couldn’t quite grasp.

The news was like a seismic shift in your world. It felt as though everything you had been trying to hold together was unraveling. The tears that had been welling up before were now flowing freely, mingling with the shock and fear that gripped you. You tried to process it all, but the weight of the diagnosis was overwhelming. It was as if the universe had decided to compound your grief with a new and daunting challenge.

You found yourself grappling with the implications of the diagnosis, trying to come to terms with the reality of what lay ahead. The future that had once seemed so full of potential and hope was now clouded by uncertainty. The plans and dreams you had cherished were overshadowed by the looming shadow of illness.

Suguru was there, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. His own emotions were a mix of concern and determination, but he tried to remain strong for you. In the quiet moments, as you both grappled with the weight of the diagnosis, he held you close, offering a solace that words couldn’t fully convey.

Everything about it was a crushing blow. But Suguru held firm and so did you. You wanted to fight it. After all that time, your dreams together were about to come true. You didn’t want to give up just yet. You wanted to live on. You wanted to go. You wanted to have more time. With him. 

But life wasn’t always as one wants it to be. You were admitted to the hospital soon after, the trip to Switzerland slipping away, replaced by sterile rooms and treatment plans. Geto Suguru was devastated. He had waited so long, saved so carefully, and now, just when it seemed possible, this had happened.

But as you lay in the hospital bed, weakened but still filled with love for the man sitting beside you, you knew there was something more important than the trip, more important than the dream that never came to be.

You called him over, and with trembling hands, you handed him the scrapbook you had kept over the years—the one filled with all the adventures you’d already shared, the places you had seen together, the memories you had created.

“You’ve always been my greatest adventure, you know?” you said softly, your voice a little hoarse. “We may never get to see Grindelwald together, but that doesn’t mean the dream has to end.”

Your husband Suguru looked at you, his eyes filled with tears, unable to speak. 

“I want you to keep making memories, Suguru. I want you to keep having adventures. Take the tickets, go see the world… live for both of us. Because as long as you’re alive, as long as you’re making memories, there will always be evidence that I live on too.”

Suguru’s hand tightened around yours, his tears finally falling. He shook his head, unable to imagine a world without you, without your shared dream. But you smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek.

“You’ve always been the dreamer, Suguru.” you whispered. “Don’t let that part of you die. Keep dreaming, keep living for me, for us. Our love… it’s more than just a place or a moment. It’s a lifetime of memories. And as long as you’re out there, making new ones, I’ll be with you.”

Suguru nodded, his heart breaking but understanding what you meant. You had always been his greatest love, and now, even in this painful moment, you were still giving him the strength to carry on.

As he sat by your side, holding your hand tightly, Suguru made a silent promise—to keep your love alive, to honor the life you had shared, and to one day, perhaps, stand atop those snow-covered mountains of Grindelwald, knowing that you were with him in every step, in every breath, in every memory he made.

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HE WASN’T GETTING ANY YOUNGER. But he still had a promise to fulfill to you. Geto Suguru stood at the base of the trail, staring up at the towering Alps, their snow-covered peaks gleaming under the summer sun.

The path before him was steep, challenging, but it was the journey he had promised to make—for you, for both of you. He reached up to touch the small locket that hung around his neck, a picture of you carefully tucked inside. Your smile was his anchor, even now, long after you were gone.

The climb was grueling, especially for someone his age. His knees ached, his breath came in short, shallow gasps, but he pressed on. The crisp mountain air filled his lungs, reminding him of the dream you had shared for so many years—to see Grindelwald together, to hike these mountains and stand at the top of the world.

As he ascended, memories of you filled his mind. He could still hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your hand in his, see the way your eyes lit up whenever you talked about this place.

It had been your dream, but over time, it had become his as well. Even after all those years of saving, when life had repeatedly forced you to spend the money on more pressing needs, the dream had never faded.

Now, finally, he was here. But he was alone.

Each step was harder than the last. The trail wound higher and higher, becoming more treacherous, but Suguru refused to stop. He clutched the locket, his fingers brushing over the metal as if your presence was embedded within it.

“I promised you,” he whispered to the open air, as though you were walking beside him. “I promised we’d see this together.”

It took hours, his body protesting with every movement, but at last, Suguru reached the summit. The world spread out before him, vast and beautiful, with the jagged peaks of the Alps stretching into the distance. The view was breathtaking—just as you had always said it would be.

He stood there, chest heaving, staring out at the endless sky. Tears welled in his eyes, not from exhaustion, but from the sheer weight of the moment. He opened the locket and gazed at your face, your smiling eyes staring back at him. You should have been here with him. You should have seen this with your own eyes.

“This is for you, baby.” he murmured, his voice cracking as tears spilled down his cheeks. “We made it, love. We’re finally here.”

Suguru stood there for what felt like an eternity, just holding the locket and letting the wind carry his words. The silence of the mountains felt sacred, and for a moment, he could almost feel your presence beside him, hear your voice on the breeze.

After a long while, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, framed photograph—the two of you, from years ago, standing side by side, laughing as the sun set behind you. It was a moment of joy, of love, captured forever. He knelt down carefully and placed the frame on a small, flat rock at the very peak of the mountain. The picture stood there, delicate but steadfast, a testament to the love you had shared.

Suguru stood back, his gaze soft as he looked at the photo. He ran a trembling hand through his silvered hair, then placed his hands together, pressing the locket to his chest. “We don’t need evidence for our love, you know that, baby?” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I want… I want everyone to know that there was love somewhere.”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“And it will be here. Always.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and the grass around him, as if the earth itself acknowledged his words. Suguru stood there, the weight of his age and grief heavy on his shoulders, but in his heart, there was a quiet peace. This was your place now, your memory, your love, etched into the mountains for all time.

As the sun began to dip lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Alps, geto Suguru turned and began his descent. With each step, he carried the knowledge that your love was eternal, not bound by the constraints of time or place. It lived on—in the memories, in the moments, and now, on the very peak of the world.

[natalieironside]

Hey you should know about Billy & Tugboat SallyForth

Hey so my best good pal J.N. Fishhawk and his best good pal Johnny Rocket wrote and illustrated a children's book. You can get it through Barnes & Noble or on Patreon.

Hop aboard Tugboat SallyForth with Billy and his friends for a day of magical adventures above and below the weird, wild waters of the Wide Whim Sea.

Billy and his family live in the village of Can-A-Ree on the shores of the Wide Whim Sea. Billy's grandfather, the Old Salt, has taught him almost all there is to know about tugboating. Billy & Tugboat SallyForth follows Billy and his little crew--consisting of one Ship's Cat and one Ship's Rat--as they take a day trip to explore the watery wonders their world has to offer.

Billy's plan is to don his diving helmet and slip below the surface for a day of schooling with the fishes. Once he's in the water, his expedition doesn't quite go as planned. But with a little help from his (mostly) trusty first mate, he turns his troubles into an aquatic romp to remember. Deep beneath the waves, Billy makes a surprising new friend, and even manages to learn a few things along the way.

This first-in-a-series story introduces readers to the quizzical, quirky World of Whim Sea. Full color mixed media images, digital illustrations, watercolor paintings, and black and white pen-and-ink drawings portray Billy and his friends' sometimes silly, sometimes surreal escapades.

A hybrid of a picture book, a chapter book, and a sequential art book, Billy & Tugboat SallyForth mixes illustrator Johnny Rocket Ibanez's whimsical comic style imagery with author J.N. Fishhawk's playful, pun filled text to tell a tale of underwater adventure for kids of all ages.

Anyways you can buy the book

Check em out on Patreon

[justabeewithapen]

for the hidden horrors au, we know quite a few of them like to listen to/read stories, but what are some other things you think the crew would do in between missions to pass the time?

This is such an amazing question, I want to pick you up and hug you for asking it!!! I think I’ll explain in text first, then do art for some of these later. I’ll go through the list of hobbies and say who does what!

Gonna do a read more because this will be a lot, but the general summary is that lots of them draw, watch TV, write/compose, and a few have gotten into ball games.

Coloring/Drawing: During a particularly fruitful Quota the group found themselves a box of crayons, which several members quickly became enamored with so it wasn’t sold. TLQ is the main user of the crayons, happily using them on whatever scrap paper they can find. His art looks less like tangible objects and places, and more like scribbly impressions of things though he is very particular about them. Narrator has also messed around with them a little, he usually draws people and portraits, but he is a perfectionist and gets frustrated at his lack of skill. Contra is a very skilled artist with a ballpoint pen (no one knows where he is finding them) despite his poor vision. Smitten thinks art is very poetic and wishes to paint, but the crew hasn’t been able to find a paintbrush Smitten could actually use without it snapping. Smitten has tried spray paint, but found it too messy to be enjoyable.

Watching TV/Listening to the Radio: Contra, Oppy, Cold, and Cheated are all TV lovers. As the team is very good at their jobs they have a lot of nick nacks in the ship, which includes a television! They only get a few channels, but moving pictures are very new and intriguing to their friends. Contra and Cold like watching cartoons, Contra because it is funny and Cold because there is a lot of movement and colors so it is easy for him to follow. Oppy and Cheated enjoy the single soap opera channel they get, both of them are extremely invested in the drama. The TV remote is one of the few things the group does not need to tie down because Oppy knows if he takes that then he won’t get to watch anymore. Smitten tried to get into soaps but got frustrated at all the relationship drama, and Skeptic had a hard time following things via audio. Smitten, Skeptic, and Broken are instead radio enjoyers as the boom box works as a radio! Smitten and Skeptic enjoy audio stories, the adventuring ones with romance and high action. Broken seems uninterested in those, though it is hard to tell with it, but they do really enjoy music! Any music with a beat will have it bobbing along. They once seemingly tried to change the channel but accidentally melted the boom box and had to be reassured that no one was mad.

Writing/Composing: Because of his poor vision, Narrator struggles with writing by hand. However, the ships computer is capable of writing logs that can be password protected. He has been writing some sort of book but he refuses to share it with anyone. Smitten composes poems and songs in his free time, and will happily share his work if asked (and not). Skeptic seemed interested in writing but due to obvious reasons can’t. No one on the team knows braille but his skin would probably be too thick to feel it properly anyway.

Sports/Athletics(tm): Cold hunts for sport, taking his gun and traps both inside and outside the mansion. No one is really sure what he does with his catches, he hasn’t had a new trophy skin in forever, but the bodies are never seen. Stubborn loves to wrestle and will happily do it with anyone willing to offer, but also does it with other Thumpers as a form of dominance to protect his territory. Stubborn also enjoys “fetch” with frisbees and bones and whatever people are willing to throw for him. I say “fetch” in quotation marks because there is a decent chance he does not bring the object back. Paranoid struggles with most activities but is actually pretty good at “bat and ball” sports once he got over the anxiety of the ball hitting him. By tying a paddle to Paranoid’s tail they can actually play a pretty decent rally—though it took a lot of convincing on Hero’s part for this to happen. Paranoid will only play with a few people because others might cheat.

Card Games: Contrarian, Cheated, and Oppy are all enjoyers of card games and usually rope the main 4 into them. Only Contra really knows how to play half the games they play, and every game is full of rampant cheating. Still, it is generally fun if you don’t actually care what is going on. Cheated, Oppy, and Narrator are sore losers. TLQ and Princess tend to take loses gracefully. TLQ and Hero have no idea what is going on at any point.

Other: TLQ, Contra, and Hero all can sew clothing, and Hero is teaching Hunted how to crochet, though they don’t find yarn very often. While generally sedentary, Hunted does enjoy climbing just for fun and collects trinkets almost as much as Oppy does. Smitten is actually very good at gardening, like with most things about him no one knows how he grows flowers in the mansion but he always seems to have fresh roses. Paranoid enjoys jigsaw puzzles, Cheated liked them until he got frustrated because 90% of the sets they found were missing pieces. Oppy likes to trade stories with other lootbugs and is a total rumor monger. Broken seems to enjoy hiding besides radiators or any creatures that’ll let it just chill.

I am happy to elaborate on anything mentioned here, but I think I generally got everyone?

[nabs-draws]

(I'm finally done with this image after a month...god bless my patience...)

Words cannot really describe what I feel for this band. Nor can a drawing express those feelings. Everything I might going to say sound super cheesy but if their music and all the interviews thought me one thing, than it is that it's okay to be myself. I mean…they do it too, right…and sometimes we are cheesy. Sometimes we are touched by media and sometimes we might not find the right words. I want to try it anyway.

Let me start with a quote from Adventure Time actually, because this quote pretty much describes my love for music in General. "Music is powerful, man. It speaks to a primal pit in our brains. It makes anyone go up and get their knees going" When I first listened to Blur consciously , something truely magically happened. I saw Damon, as he slowly sink into their music, paired with Grahams ability to paint with sound. Alex who infused his Groovy cool bass sounds into the song and Dave who brings in memoriable rhythms. All of this rounded up makes Blur of who they were and who they currently are. Their timeless. It's inspirational…it's just purely Magic.

It's that exact feeling that I tried to translate into my illustraton. The whole drawing process made me a little emotional too. I never felt this way for an illustration really but I went through all sorts of emotions…Maybe that's what I get from their music. I was a bit conflicted. Because while listening to their music, I was able to feel their love to one another and it felt like something…intimate. Something I maybe shouldn't put in an image. Or should I? Am I capable to translate that love without projecting mine onto them? It is a quite vulnerable process after all. In the end however, I decided to just go for it. My pen will lead the way. If I learned one thing from Graham's interviews it's "If you're scared, do it scared!" (especially since I'm a fellow person who deals with a lot of anxiety) and if there is something I learned from listening to countless of Damons Interviews it's "Follow your heart. Be vulnerable. It's fine. Use this emotion and begin to dream. Your heart will know what is right!" And as cheesy as my love for Blur is (no pun intended), I always think back of how they talk about their musical heroes too. Recently I was listening to an Interview between Elton John and Damon and how he wrote that song about Elton John when he was younger. Or Graham how he described sitting in the room, learning all those Songs he is into (and both of them got a fantastic taste in music. I currently gonna do a deepdive into both of their influences , to get a better understanding of them as musicians…while having no musical knowledge myself lmao)

And so I decided "If they gush about their favorite musicians, I can do it too. Maybe not in a musical way (because I would suck at it) but in my artsy kind of way. In my own way. It might be embarassing for me and I'm quite shy about my feelings, but that's what art is sometimes."

It was also by far one of the longest things I worked on. I really kneed a month into this image and tried to capture every essence to the best of my ability. I think the most difficult part was to styilize the guys in a way that it still has this typical "Nabs" touch to it, but that it still look like them. …Okay, enough talking from my side, I hope you enjoy the image lol!

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 9

Here we are at the end of our choose your own adventure, friends. I've said this before, but it's been an absolute delight, doing this with all of you, and writing this together. Your choices shaped every step of the narrative, so if you've enjoyed the story, you should feel proud (and if you didn't, uh, not it? 😉)

If you need to catch up on a day or two, you can find the other installments here. I'll keep this post pinned for a day or two as well, and may put the finished version up on ao3 eventually. Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8

Last, but not remotely least: my wife has been making noises about joining Tumblr, because I told her about this, and she wants to read it in its original form. I hope she does, because all of this is for her. 💜

Conclusion starts below the cut!

And tomorrow at noon, as instructed, he would meet Q in front of the Fighting Temeraire. 

At precisely twelve o’clock, Bond walked into room 34 of the National Gallery. Q was already there, this time, a reversal of the day they’d met a little over a year ago. He’d swapped his anorak for a wool coat, his suit for a navy blue cardigan and a white button-up, and, in a nod to the day, he sported a navy blue bowtie with tiny white hearts on it. So much had changed, since the last time they’d been here, much of it because of the man waiting for him on the bench, looking at a Turner painting.

“James,” Q said as Bond approached. “You got the package I sent?”

“Yes,” Bond said. “It’s the best thing anyone’s ever sent me, Q. Even without the exploding pen. Though thank you for that, by the way, I still haven’t managed to clean up all the confetti hearts. I even found some in my pants, last night.”

“How in the world—actually, never mind, I’m not sure I want to know.”

Bond gestured to the envelope Q was clutching in his right hand. “And you got your letter as well, I see.”

“Yes,” Q said. “I, ah—I haven’t opened it, yet. You’re going to think it’s silly of me, but I was too nervous.”

Bond sat down beside him. “Don’t be nervous,” he said, taking Q’s hand in his own. “You can open it with me, if you like.”

Q nodded. He squeezed Bond’s hand, and then released it, taking a shaky breath as he opened the envelope and began to read.

My darling Q,

A wise man recently told me that I should be honest above all else, in my letter to you, so I’ll start with a small confession: I have read countless love letters in the last few days, preparing to write my first to you. It was the best thing I could have done, but not for the reason you might think: it showed me that there are as many ways to tell someone what they mean to you as there are people in the world.

I needed to know that, because so many of the traditional idioms people use to describe love didn’t seem to fit the way I feel for you. Take “falling” in love, for example. I haven’t found that to be particularly apt. I’ve fallen from any number of things—helicopters, buildings, construction cranes, moving cars—and loving you hasn’t been like any of that.

I’m beginning to suspect that I’m doing an absolutely shit job of writing this letter, but the thing is, so many people treat pain as a kind of virtue, as something that must be surmounted before you gain anything of value. It’s astonishing how untrue that really is, though, and it’s equally astonishing how long it took me to learn it. How the only reason I’ve begun to learn it is because loving you is the only thing in my life that never hurts.

I’m not trying to say that relationships are effortless. I’m not that daft. What I mean is—loving you isn’t falling at all, Q. It’s a lie-in on a Sunday, with you in my arms, and the cats at our feet, and the certain knowledge that all of me is welcome there. That all of me is home, because by some miracle you know me better than anyone, and you love me anyway.

So much of my life is a fight, and you remain the most effortless surrender.

I love you with all of me, Q. And I always will.

Love,

Your James

Q sniffed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to swipe at his face. “Don’t look at me. I’m not crying.”

“Of course not,” Bond said. He reached out to wipe Q’s cheeks with his thumbs, and rested his forehead against Q’s. He stayed there for a long moment, leaning into Q, feeling the warmth of his body alongside his own.

“We’re quite the matched set, aren’t we?” Q asked eventually.

“I’d say so,” Bond said. “Oh, and there’s one more thing.“ He reached into the leather satchel at his feet, and pulled out the snow globe he’d bought in Bath. “I bought this to throw Moneypenny and Tanner off the track, but do you know, it’s rather grown on me.”

Q shook it, and watched as snow fell on the replica of the Bath Circus. His smile widened.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

“By the way, I presume that Moneypenny and Tanner aren’t actually having an affair.”

“Do you know, I’d convinced them to go down with me to Bath to mail your package, since we all had the Saturday morning free—I thought we’d make a day of it. If you’d taken the train into Bath, instead of driving, you might have run into all of us. As it was, I had to take the train back by myself. But I gather I had the more comfortable journey.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, looking at the Fighting Temeraire on the wall.

“Does it still make you melancholy, when you look at it?” Bond asked.

“Maybe a little. It’s a melancholy painting, in many ways. A painting about change. But then, not all change is bad, is it? Something ends, and something else begins. Maybe there’s hope in it, in its own way.” Q shifted on the bench, turning to look at Bond. “And what about you? Do you still just see a bloody big ship?”

“Well,” Bond said, considering. “There are actually two ships, sailing toward the viewer, aren’t there? The older, wiser, stately ship, and the younger, cheekier ship there in the front, dragging the older one into the future whether he wills it or no. It’s a metaphor, you see.”

“A metaphor for what, exactly?”

“The ships are a metaphor. The painting’s actually about shagging.”

“Oh my god. And here I was starting to think you were a romantic.”

“I contain multitudes.”

“I do love you, you know,” Q said. “In case you needed reminding.”

“I do,” Bond said. “Frequently.” He reached up to tuck a stray curl behind Q’s ear. “And I love you too. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Q looked down at his watch. “Do you want to have a look around? I took the day, but if you have to be back at work—“

“There’s nowhere I need to be,” Bond said. “We have time.”

The gallery slowly started to fill up with people, students and tourists and docents giving tours, eddying around the pair of them like boats in a harbor. Some of them may have noticed them sitting there, the agent and his quartermaster, looking for all the world like an ordinary couple on a Valentine’s Day outing. Others never noticed them at all. But they stayed for a long while, and then they were gone, and when they left, they left together.

[goleb]

i literally admire the way you always seem to be drawing, and the infinite inspiration you have. I aspire to be like you someday

Thank you... 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

I'm no good at giving advice, but these are things that work for me.

Don't let creation become a chore for you. Make things because you enjoy it, not because you feel like you have to. Try new things! Even if it's just a new brush or a pen, it can really help keep your art feel fresh in your mind. Pick up a different medium if you're feeling adventurous lol. I like pixel art, sewing and knitting so I got into cross stitch, and I like digital painting and sculpting so I got into 3d models. Experiment. Have fun!

Give yourself small goals, whatever you feel works for you, but don't beat yourself up if you don't manage it perfectly either. Remember it's okay to not give every piece your absolute all. Sometimes it's better to make a couple small doodles for a week straight than try to force yourself to finish some big piece and burn yourself out. I started out daily drawing with a week-long challenge and escalated from there over time and now it's just something I do. I still haven't managed my goal of drawing daily for a whole year but who knows, maybe 2024's the year, y'know? Really, all that matters is that you keep going.

For inspiration, well, that depends what you're looking for. Watch a show or read or look at other people's art, listen to music, try redrawing your old art (my personal bias but I love doing that, really shows how much you've improved over time and that can be incredibly motivating) or a screenshot or a meme, or study something you're not so good at like anatomy or shading or backgrounds. Art challenges are always fun and the best part is you can make your own to suit your preferences, which is why every one I ever did was about drawing Roy lol, I live to draw Roy, he's my muse. I owe at least half of my art skills right now to him and my drawing him so much, haha.

Just, remember to start small and grow from there. Going full on in first thing you do may work for some but is also an easy trip to burn out town or giving up because it's not exactly like how you imagined it and you end up feeling discouraged from trying. Truth is very few things match the standards of our own imagination, but until someone invents a way to print out art directly from your mind (which I hope someone does, I have so many pictures I need out of there and only so much time, haha), the best way to get there is to keep doing it anyway and one day you'll wake up and realise how much progress you've made since you first started, and best part is that this is not a one-time experience, and I think that's something to look forward to. So just keep going, you'll get there.

Also feel the need to mention my go-to motivational post, because I saw it once as a young artist and it stuck in my mind to this day.

You got this!

[thatoneerin]

FINALLY GOT SOMETHING DONE FOR MY ALERUDY HC (I refuse to call it an au because ITS REAL TO ME >:’( )

Anyway, enjoy my little characterization/head-canon thing I did for the Vargas-Parra fam 😌

Maria - 7

soft spoken - shy around new people - brutally honest - creative - funny - intelligent - clever - jealous 

super into motorcycles, much to her papa’s pleasure (he’s got like, 3)

closer to Rodolfo than she is with Alejandro. they’re still close, y’know, but if she needs comfort, she’s going to Rudy

will often blurt out whatever she’s thinking about a situation. It’s usually not anything too bad, but there have been couple of times where Ale n Rudy have had to pull her aside and be like “dude, you can’t just say that shit”

her favorite superhero is Wonder Woman and will, at the drop of a pen, go on a tangent on how cool she is if anyone even mentions superheroes

doesn’t cling onto her dads as often as Sophie does, but if she notices they’ve been paying more attention to Sophie (or literally any other kid) that day, she’ll grab their hand then stare daggers at the offending “attention hogger”

Sophie - 5

outgoing - loud - mischievous - confident - creative - athletic - curious - stubborn - forgetful 

obsessed with mangoes? for some reason?? has eaten some every day for the past like, year, and it's healthy so Alejandro and Rudy are just like “lol, okay I guess??” (she’s neurodivergent, it’s a comfort food)

glitter.. everywhere.. Ale and Rudy don’t even know where it comes from cause they’re smart enough to have never bought any, but she’ll just have glitter all over her hands or where ever else on her body (this doesn’t really change as she gets older, but instead of glitter, it’s paint and marker)

is equally close with both of her dads, honestly just clings onto the one closest to her at. all. times. if she’s not distracted with her sister or something else. which, honestly, is pretty often because she’s pretty easily distracted (lol same kid)

LOVES big animals, especially since she’s being raised around cows and horses. Loves doing chores out on the ranch with Alejandro.

Rodolfo aka Papa

nurturing - witty - ambitious - funny - thoughtful - passionate - fearless - protective - overthinker 

Is just Snow White. He can and will pick up any animal/bug with his bare hands and never ends up getting hurt from it. Constantly freaks out the girls (and to an extent, Alejandro) when he shows up to them with a big ass spider in his hands

FANTASTIC singing voice. Will sing the girls to sleep when they’re having especially rough nights

Can cook, he just prefers to bake 

Has tattoos of Maria and Sophie’s newborn baby handprints wrapping around his thumbs

Had to learn early on that he couldn’t hover over the babies all the time, that they would get hurt sometimes and that’s okay

Went to his mama and sister A LOT for help (his sister had already had three kids by the time Rudy had his first) ((not actually HAD, they had a surrogate))

VERY dry and sarcastic humor, and is quick to think of something funny to say. Maria slowly picks up on it, sometimes saying stuff out of the blue that makes Ale and Rudy do a double take, leading Alejandro to say “I see where she gets her humor from” with a shit eating grin on his face.

Becomes a part time pet Veterinarian after getting honorably discharged from the military. He’d always been interested in being a Vet (haha), but, y’know. He kinda followed Alejandro into the military and stayed there for a good 15 years, so-

Alejandro aka Papi/Dad

bold - impulsive - funny - short temper - adventurous - encouraging - loud - stubborn 

Is mainly the one who plays with the girls since he’s the one that’s home with them most of the time (he works from home. what does he do? great question, i haven't figured that out yet)

Has literally had to stop himself from really arguing with his daughters (mainly Sophie) multiple times because he’ll just stop and be like “I’m arguing with a 5 year old, what the hell am I doing??”

Has a terrible temper, but has NEVER raised his voice at his girls. He learned how to control it to the point where he’ll be able to calm himself down enough to not yell, but will still have Rudy be the one that scolds the girls most times, just in case. He never, ever wants his girls to be scared of him. He still makes sure to redirect his girls when needed, he just doesn’t do it when he’s mad

VERY early bird, Like, 6am early. Goes for runs in the morning then gets back in time to cook breakfast before anyone else is even up. There have been a few times where he’s caught Mariana up super early as well, playing in the living room by herself. He then usually sits with her for a while before making breakfast

Kind of a workaholic. It’s gotten better since he got out of the military, but if he’s got something to do that pertains to work, you best believe he’s sitting his ass down and not doing anything else until that thing is done

Gets WAY into sports (football/soccer, *COUGH*), he’s one of those dads. Only times the girls will hear both of their dads yell is at sports games (Sophie joins in on it when she gets older and gets more into sports, Maria thinks they’re all crazy)

Picks up woodcarving after leaving the military, actually made a few of the girl’s toys that they end up keeping as they get older

Is the one that cooks the most (also ties in with the fact that he’s the one at home the most)

CLUMSY AS SHIT. Will trip over his own feet constantly, always making the girls (and to extension, Rudy) laugh their asses off at it

[erabundus]

@ruinlost &&. said... “what are you working on ?”-for taiyang!!

he's  leaning  with  his  back  against  a  small  outcropping  of  stones.  there's  a  river  somewhere  behind  him;  he  can  hear  the  water  as  it  flows  —  a  relaxing  sound,  like  nature's  WHITE  NOISE.  it's  accompanied  by  the  faint  scratch  of  pen  against  paper.  there's  a  journal  propped  up  against  the  wanderer's  knees.  it's  the  same  one  he  uses  for  miscellaneous  things;  poetry,  shopping  lists  and  the  like.  today,  the  page  is  adorned  with  sketches.  schematics  —  or  at  least  the  roughest  drafts  of  them.  strange  gemstones  carved  in  intricate  shapes,  delicately  twisted  metal,  notes  on  materials.  some  have  been  scratched  out,  splashes  of  ink  staining  the  drawings  like  blood  from  a  violent  gash.  others  have  been  corrected  with  a  more  careful  touch;  aspects  of  their  designs  still  considered  worth  salvaging.  it's  still  too  early  in  the  creative  process  for  anything  CONCRETE  to  have  taken  shape,  but  that's  fine  —  the  wanderer  thinks  he  would  rather  go  slow  to  ensure  a  more  POLISHED  final  product.

it's  been  quite  some  time  since  he's  had  the  opportunity  to  work  on  this  kind  of  project.  that,  too,  is  another  reason  to  truly  savor  it.

the wanderer  looks  up  at  the  sound  of  taiyang's  voice,  only  realizing  at  that  precise  moment  he's  been  nibbling  absentmindedly  on  the  back  of  his  pen.   ❝  hmm?  ❞  what  is  he  working  on?  ren  scoots  to  the  side,  gesturing  for  the  boy  to  join  him  if  he  feels  so  inclined.  ❝  do  you  remember  that  time  i  drew  those  swords  for  you?  i'm  doing  something  not  so  dissimilar  from  that.  ❞   of  course,  at  the  time  he  had  been  simply  SCRIBBLING  in  the  dirt  —  this  was  a  considerably  more  intricate  process.  more  details,  more  effort.  he  holds  out  the  journal  for  the  other  to  see.  the  DRAWINGS  are able to paint  a  clear  enough  picture  (  no  pun  intended  )  even  if  the  notes  that accompany  them  are  a  touch  obscure by comparison.

❝  i  was  considering  making  a  new  CATALYST  for  someone  i  know.  ❞   amanda,  to  be  more  specific.  ❝  she's  shaping  up  to  be  a  skilled  adventurer  in  her  own  right ...  but  the  weapon  she's  using  could  be  better ...  ❞ that's the most polite way to word his feelings, anyway.

MORBID CURIOSITY

[honourablejester]

Okay, this is rather (VERY) spoilery for the 2nd book of the Eight Petals Argent solo adventure series, but I just want to quickly talk about my fondness for this one (rather important) NPC:

Because we fucked up the portal programming, we accidentally dragged our pen-pusher employer through the gate with us, and he was not remotely prepared. To quote:

“Me? I…” Arold splutters. “I never meant to get near that portal. You must have done something wrong with the levers! I should still be in Waterdeep right now!”

Rufio sighs deeply.

“If I knew you’d bring me on this trip,” Arold continues, “I could have worn some trousers.” He lifts the hem of his robe, showing how uselessly he’s equipped for adventuring.

He literally doesn’t even have pants. He doesn’t have his spellbook. He has pretty much nothing. We dragged this poor pantless wonder on a desert island adventure with curses and pirates and horrible monsters, and pretty much everything that could possibly go wrong for him (short of actual death, thankfully) promptly did go wrong. He got happy fixing a device, gets it working again, and it immediately flies off on him:

The three of you watch the painted creature fly away.

“Shit,” Arold says when the dragon has passed beyond sight.

We come across a horrible massacre climbing a mountain and he, a half-elf pencil pusher, encounters the lovely site of another half-elf torn in two. We find her legs later.

“Half a half-elf,” Arold muses, pointing out her slightly pointed ears. The Seekers’ agent sits down in the dirt with a vacant expression. You remember that Arold never signed up to see the dangers—and sometimes horrors— that come with adventuring. Watching him stare into space, absently touching his own ears, makes you wonder whether he’ll return to his old, pampered lifestyle once you’re all safely back in Waterdeep. Sights like this can change a person.

And then, because we fucked up protecting him early on, long-term effects happen, and he winds up in a coma. And to fix him we have to destroy at least part of what he’s been sent to get. Like. He did not sign up for any of this. Later on, when we get him back alive and rescue arrives, complications happen, and we have to demand something of him rather strenuously. He gives it immediately. When everybody’s reunited again after said complications:

Arold is next off the landing boat, followed by some of the Homeward’s sailors carrying luggage. Arold hugs you fiercely.

“We should not have become friends,” the half-elf says, his voice serious. “It made me feel guilty to wish you were in my place during that voyage.”

He hugs me. We dragged him (accidentally, but still) through absolute hell, nearly got him killed, and he hugs me. And then argues on our behalf with our mutual employers to get us extra money despite the fact that we literally blew up half of what we were sent to get.

And as a crowner, he comes by our place to tell us this after some … other complications have happened, so he busts in all cheerful and walks face-first into a very tense mood. Poor bastard:

“Money!” the half-elf says, joyously. A moment later, he seems to intuit the pervading mood and tempers his enthusiasm. His voice turns solemn.

I have just finished this book (Fight for the Dawn Saber), and I have to say I am very fond of this poor bugger. I will kill people for Arold. Not a bother. And, given complications, I may well have to, but that’s fine. That’s absolutely fine. I’m gonna pick him up, and I’m gonna put him somewhere safe, some nice office with no pirates or constructs or infected aberrations, and I’m gonna shank anyone who looks at him funny. It’ll all be fine.

Sorry. Just. He’s been through a lot. I really want to just wrap him up and give him soup and (if at all possible) gently steer him out of the firing line. This was absolutely not the job he signed on for.

Anyway. Carry on.  

[natestah]

Story time

Adam brought to my attention in the last article some of the early goings on at 2015 with MOHAA, We didn't really get to sink our teeth in for some time. He reminded me that we spent time doing a prototype for a second game, which went no where. It was, Scrappy, but I did eventually get to settle in on some work. Trying to Jog my memory a bit by googling Screenshots lead me to this great walk-through Blog, which I am going to borrow some things from (Super Adventures In Gaming Blog)

Out of the gate, when you get past the training you are treated to some of my "fine" terrain work. Couple of things about this, We had developed a dynamic terrain system for the game that was rich in features but could not draw this darned road that curved and bent like this, not without us Flagging a lot of the vertices around the road to not LOD, which subsequently created a ton of polygons and also left terrible lighting artifacts and z-fighting where the curved road and the on-the-grid terrain met.

Only an insane person, would ever go these lengths. If you're keeping up on my articles, you'll recall I had a "Blob" Method in Unreal for creating organic shapes (Story Time About Unreal PSX). That wouldn't apply here but with only convex brushes it looked different! So how do you paint an organic terrain shape using only convex brushes? The secret is in the Cylinder brush, three sided cylinder. It produced the triangle that would be the the terrain surface that you see here. That top triangle could bend and go anywhere I wanted it too, the other surfaces were simply discarded as "No draw" textures.

This would become my bugaboo during MoH:AA and later games too, I worked on many levels but every one that I was assigned to would get a framerate treatment. I wasn't a fan of sub 60hz framerate. Anyway, this guy's commentary on our 2001 game from 2013 is spot-on if not hilarious. He mentions the music early on in his walk through, which I could say was one of the highlights of all of the games I would work on. That first drop of the music, a single line of script placed and suddenly it was "Go time".

During MOHAA times, a level designer was responsible for EVERYTHING in the level. The initial focus was creating the Geometry, and then you had to make it go with some scripting. Mission 2 consisted of 3 levels (some were broken down to a,b,c sections ), they were all my work.

M2L1 was the infiltration of the German Sub-pen, everything was covered in snow and needed some fancy texturing work. The snow was created with No-clip so the feet could go beneath. This area was challenging the engine for me. 60Hz was hard to do on this very "open" space. Once again, insanity led me to a solution where an engineer gave me a technology that we had no term for other than "Manual Vis'ification Technology". I would connect spaces and declare them not visible for the compiler. I remember the engineer coming to my desk, with a grin when He saw how I was breaking the space up,it was a grid of blocks that would get smaller as needed for details, Dude you're basically creating an OctTree.. Huh.. k. Whatever smarty engineer dude. Not much else to say about this space other than there being a time when I wanted to try and introduce some 3dsMax modeling chops and do better rock formations, Quake3's curved patches were very limited. This game had an in-house developed Continuous LOD (Level of Detail) that fought me, On a scale as big as a rock-wall the Rocks would slowly and very visibly morph in. I ended up throwing out that Idea.

M2L2 was a place where I got to exercise some scripting, It was the first place where any kind of programming would take a foothold. Another designer had a very complex state machine setup for managing the interactions. I ended up throwing it out. All the area needed was some dudes patrolling around that would simply ask you for your papers if you got close, In certain area's you'd have to get close. If you didn't comply, the alarm would sound. It was an opportunity to set up unique scripted animations, We had these dudes at a card table, then we had a guy welding one of the docked subs. The ambient sound did the rest, there were all kinds of details in the sound to suggest more was going on in here.

This U-boat was created for me by the art team, Unfortunately we'd hit by the fact that the engine kind of just took one point as the receptor for the lighting, Submerging the boat too much meant the whole thing turned black. There was a lot of Jiggling the boat to get it to take the light just right ( or right enough )

The entire inside of this boat was donated by the art team. Really cool stuff, unfortunately it was hard to move around in. Players in these games are bound to a box, We had to cheat a lot an make certain things ( the door ) non-clipping. I made sure the scripting inside here was brief.

The sub is pretty basic but I wanted to have some details and I didn't get the full attention of the art team, I don't think we had created map "Prefabs" yet, looking at those wires and things on the ceiling has me recalling a lot of painstaking copy-paste operations, and Re-wiring when I wanted to change the style. The lamps on the ceiling might just be curve brushes. Even when things were simple I wanted go hard. =)

M2L3 isn't captured here, but I remember starting in a ventilation system, We had a cockroach run away at the start that was scripted. the rest is simply set up as shoot-em-up cover is blown escape. Nothing to it.

Here we, good old YouTube! There's actually a lot more detail in this than I remember doing, it really did turn out good: Have a walk down memory lane in this walk-through of Mission 2.

I was NOT involved with DDay, It was glorious. This is where the artists went. My first E3 had us demoing this to people in a bunker with a long line. Too be fair my memory of E3 blends with Call of Duty so I'm not sure which, but it was awesome to be the surprise hit of the show. I also remember Snoop-dogg himself walking right by. How cool!

There are other missions that I had a hand in, There were some non-technical Level Designers that I would go offer some scripting to and some missions that I would help create destroyed buildings for.

I helped with the Gas Mask sequence of this mission, Creating a timer, overlaying the gas mask, scripting the fog ( gas ).

I don't know which one's but I got involved with some of the war-torn missions and helped bust up a lot of buildings. If you see a rubble pile, there's a good chance I was in there.

I can't remember, if I was involved with Tanks, I think I may have helped with the geometry for the missions with tanks. Not to reveal too much about CoD, but tanks were my missions there so things are murky, if you remember please do chime in. I'd love to hear.

I think that's it for MOH:AA stay tune for more stories!

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

Euphrosyne | Chapter 1: Letter I

The first of the ficlet.

Warning: Implied Family Drama, Grief, Loss, Loss of Friendship

Description: E. writes letters to their old pen pal. They write about their life, and the new adventure they go on.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link | Next

[read under the cut]

Dearest Spero,

Sometimes life really sucks. Sometimes, life bites your chest and steals your lungs in a gorey urgence. Sometimes, life just… it’s not great. 

I’m not sure how long it’s been since I last wrote to you. A few weeks? Months? It feels like years. I would say ‘please forgive me’, but that feels futile at this point. It’s been too long. I’ve been ignoring you for too long. I don’t know what I expect from this letter. I don’t know why I’m even writing to you. It’s been far too long. I doubt we’re still friends. I’ve been a bad friend. I’ve been ignorant of your suffering, and I’ve made it worse. I don’t expect a reply, let alone you to read once you see my name signed on the envelope. I think… I think I’ve just missed you. I miss writing to you. 

Have you missed me? At all, in any capacity? I’m not sure you should, given how I’ve treated you. But we both know you miss even those who hurt you. Maybe you’ve missed me as I’ve missed you. 

I have no excuses for not writing to you, in all honesty. All I had to do was bring pen to paper. It’s not that hard. It’s just words. Words are easy, right? So, I have no excuse. Even amongst things that happened since we last wrote, it wasn’t fair to leave you so suddenly in silence. I’m sorry, Spero. Truly. 

Remember during last winter when we talked about the holidays, and you mentioned how you liked crows? You said they were your favorite bird. I disagreed then, thinking they were as bad as superstition said they were. You taught me not to believe everything everyone else says. I wished I would’ve listened to you sooner. 

Speaking of crows, I saw two of them fly by my window yesterday. They reminded me of you. They reminded me of us. Of us messing around through letters and creating inside jokes. Of when we’d tell each other everything. Of when I told you nothing, and you replied with kindness instead of anger. 

Why did I stop talking to you? I know we fought. I know we cussed each other out in ink and threatened to burn our letters. We never did, though. At least, I never did. Sometimes, I wonder if you went through with it. I was awful to you even before stopping my letters. That last fight… 

I’m sorry I let it go so far, Spero. 

If it’s any consolation, Mother is the same as before. So is Father. I haven’t seen my siblings in a while, either. Not since last summer. I didn’t think telling you was a good idea then, but I don’t know why I’m telling you now. Maybe I feel that you need an explanation. That you deserve one. 

I might burn this. I may never send it and hide it in my locked drawer. Hide it under paint brushes and half-sharpened pencils. 

If I never send this, then I might as well write whatever comes to mind. 

This feels like the delayed apology after a breakup. We were friends, then we weren’t, and now I see so much of what I’ve done. What I could’ve done better. Friendship breakups feel very different from when you breakup with a romantic partner. It almost feels worse. Maybe it’s because it’s you. You were the closest friend I had. And I hurt whatever I keep close. 

It’s my fault for letting things go silent for so long. It’s none of yours. It may feel like it, but Spero? It’s not. It never was. 

Something happened after we fought. Mother… well, you know what she’s like. She found out one of my secrets I told you about. Not an excuse. More of an explanation. 

We both know how much of a coward I am. 

I’m going to cut this short. I think I hear knocking on my door, anyway. Might be the pizza I ordered. City-living, huh?

I wish you well, Spero. 

Apologetically, an old friend

E.

[lpfreakification]

Summer Plans, Summer Plans, Summer Plans, Plans, Plan(t)z... I quit :P Ok! 🤪

These past 3 days of nothing is actually working out? I'm getting energy back again. Using that energy wisely is the hard part 🤔 As I regain it, I end up wandering around the house, with some pacing too.

The main thing I really want to do b4 anything else is get a haircut 😭 Look at the difference! (This was back in 2021)

I look + feel so much better about myself with my hair chopped off. I had to grow it out because of my sister's wedding in 2022.

And now my brother is gonna get married exactly one year from now, June 15th 2024.

My hair tends to grow fast XP

Anyway, back to summer plans. I'd like to make sure I'm physically well enough to do kickboxing again. These last two months of sitting on my butt + animating can't be good for me in the long run. Unless I put in the time for some physical activity. You know, I hate the work "exercise" bcuz of how often it is associated with going to the gym XP Tried going to the gym b4 the semester but felt monotonous? Despite having a variety of classes, it felt like I wasn't connecting with the atmosphere + I was one of the youngest attendees X( Needless to say, that didn't work out. *facepalm* (agh, whyd I say that?) Perla Punny-pants pummels, paralyzes (Perla-lyzes), plus pounds Perla perfectly perpendicular XP (I like alliterations)

Anyway, doctor. To see if im fit for intense physical activity. If not, then back to wandering around the house or have more spontaneous adventures outside that involves food :P

Once I see how I am physically, then I can conquer my room again. It's mostly piles clean clothes I've been lazy to put away. I'm also thinking about getting more shelves/containers from the Container Store 🤔 With news pen purchases over the past year, I'm bound to need more storage space for my pens, pencils, markers, + watercolor supplies.

Speaking of watercolor, in July, I plan to continue painting Paloma's OC, Peli during the day + play KH: Re: Coded at night (as soon as my room is cleaned up). That'll be a great way to spend the month of July X3 Bonus points for another online movie night X)

I heard that the fam + I are going to see a baseball game in Milwaukee for 4th of July? Im so used to the local town parade we go to every year. Unfortunately, despite it being too peaceful during last year's parade, one town wasn't so lucky :( What I'm hoping to gain from this change of pace this year is making some new memories :)

For the Museum of Sciene + Industry... either somewhere in the middle of July or the middle of August. July 1st + 2nd got a Nascar Street Race in the city. Somewhere towards the end of July/early August is Lollapalooza. The city gets crowded there often. Then again, don't take my word for it bcuz I don't leave my room too often + never been in the city during Lollapalooza. Or have I? I don't remember.

And finally, gonna go see The Offspring, Sum 41, + Simple Plan towards the end of August 😃 That'll be a good way to end the summer :)

Welp, that's what I got rn. I may end up adding a little bit more ideas for summer plans just to fit the page. Let's put these dry-erase markers away + head back upstairs in the heat XP Yep!

[cratlord]

Prince of the Seas - Chapter 3

Pairing: Bucky x Ruby / Some Bucky x Killian

Summary: Things did not get better for Bucky Barnes after he and Sam had their adventure. They got worse. After years of living only through stolen moments of his own life, he is given a chance to build a life in a whole new world. The catch? That life is going to be a very, very long one. This is the tale of the life built in the Realm that will one day be known as Misthaven, or the Enchanted Forest.

Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, suicidal thoughts, violence, Sexual content

Bucky set the shield back down on the floor gently so he could sit freely in the fancy desk chair in his home office.  Loki’s golden envelope was placed carefully to the side, the center of the desk taken up by a fresh sheet of high quality paper and Bucky’s favorite fountain pen.  He took a moment to think, then put nib to paper.

My dearest friend, Thank you for the dinner.  It was excellent.  I am glad my last meal in this world was one I was able to treasure and enjoy.  You and your people have been good friends to me, you especially, and I truly appreciate all the time we have spent together.  I am sorry to say that it has to end.  I saw an opportunity to expose my enemies, and this time, I took it.  When they inevitably push the button, it will only add nails to their coffins. I hope you find endless happiness and a life filled with all the love I never found.  I hope your family knows no sorrow and your enemies learn true remorse.  I hope Asguard becomes stronger than it has ever been, and can lead the peoples of the Nine Realms to new heights of prosperity and peace.  I hope you remember me.  Not the Avenger.  Not the assassin.  Your friend. I am wearing the armor you made me.  It feels good.  I am glad that I have only ever worn it as a free man. Bucky

He read it through several times before deeming it good enough.  He wasn’t sure how much longer he had, so good enough would have to do.  He blew on the ink to dry it a bit faster, then carefully folded the paper and slid it into the envelope.  He could spend an eternity trying to say goodbye to Loki, but it wouldn’t mean much in the end.  He knew from the beginning that their relationship would end the same way it started, the same way it had always been.  With him wanting more, Loki knowing he did, and both of them just tactfully avoiding the subject.

A tear slid down his face.  He was almost surprised he still had the ability to shed one after all these years.  It was probably better this way.  At least this way, he wasn’t a burden on his friend anymore.  

He took a deep breath and snapped the seal closed. With a soft flash, the letter was gone, sent across the galaxy to Loki’s matching envelope.  He would probably read it when he returned to his quarters after forgetting dinner and ordering something be brought there.  Loki often did that sort of thing when he got on a research binge.  He’d forget dinner, then get hangry, then stomp about like it was everyone else’s fault.  The next morning he would show up at breakfast looking sheepish and apologizing for being waspish with people.  Bucky chuckled wetly at the thought.  

He stood up from the desk, grabbing the shield to put back on his back, and made his way back downstairs to his living room.  It was a comfortable space, not very large but it suited his needs just fine.  It wasn’t like he was ever allowed to have visitors anyways.

There was a simple brown leather sofa with an ottoman shaped like a big turtle.  There were a couple of bookshelves against a wall, and pictures covering much of the rest of the dark green he’d painted the room.  The green really brought out the dark wood trim, as well as the ornately carved mantle.  He was particularly proud of the mantle, considering he’d carved it himself.  It was shaped like a pair of art deco pillars holding up a slab, but it was all covered in ivy.  It had turned out beautifully.  Loki was the only person who’d ever seen it, and he had been very impressed.  

There were other little carved baubles around the room.  It had taken him a bit after he escaped Hydra to hone his skills again, but by now he was far better than he had ever been before the war.  Nearly every piece of furniture in his house was built by him.  He’d lived long enough by this point that any hobby was a good hobby, and carpentry was one of the few he’d had before his life turned to shit.  Even now, looking at the table by his sofa, the tasteful art deco lamp sitting on it, he regretted having put off building a matching one for the other side.  

He sat down and propped his feet up on his turt.  He pursed his lips and stared down at the little lump under his boot around his ankle.  The house was silent, though he could hear the noises of his suburb shuffling about outside.  A cricket started chirping in his back yard.  He could hear his neighbors he shared a south wall with fucking again.  

He shifted uncomfortably.  His enhanced senses were a real burden sometimes.  He was so sex deprived at this point, even listening to them get it on was affecting him.  They weren’t even attractive, but they fucked like rabbits every chance they got.  They had to spend a fortune on lube to keep from chafing.  He huffed, knowing the thought of lube costs definitely only crossed his mind because he was insanely jealous.  He would give anything to have the kind of life where he would even have the option to find someone to share his bed with.  

“Do you mean that?” a bell like voice said crisply behind him.  The accent was posh, but more in a dignified way than a pretentious way.  All soft sounds being very well articulated.  

He put his feet down and sat up before slowly turning to see the woman standing in the doorway to the hall.  She was tall and slender, her willowy limbs just a hair longer than looked natural, with her nearly too big eyes boring into him in their peculiar way he knew common to her kind.  Even the low lighting of his lamp was enough to set her golden hair sparkling, adding to the atmosphere as much as the scent of fresh flowers did everywhere she went.  She pulled her lips back in a mockery of a human smile, showing her sharp, but perfectly symmetrical and white, teeth.  She was beautiful, much like a tiger or a supernova.

He stood respectfully before the Summer Queen and bowed deeply.  “Your Majesty, it is a pleasure to see you.”  As he rose up, he felt the stifling blanket of her power settle over the room, silencing everything.  Three times he had met this woman now, and both previous times she had somehow stopped time while they spoke.  He assumed that was what she was doing now.  

Knowing she expected answers, he carefully considered what he had been thinking when she had asked her question.  He took his time, considering in the past she had cared more about absolute honesty than timeliness.  She was immortal and very old, so she didn’t mind a couple extra minutes of deep thought.  “There is a line to what I would give for my own freedom,” he began carefully, knowing by now how the fey worked.  Those had all been hard lessons.  The fey weren’t evil, they simply had their own morality, and in their society they had balance, at all costs.  They took some getting used to.  “I would give much, but only that which would be within my right to give, or to take.”  

She nodded slowly, her smile fading into a much more authentic look of curiosity.  This was how the high fey showed they enjoyed things.  He relaxed marginally, knowing his answer had pleased the Queen.  Titania was known to be the most generous, and the most brutal of the fey court, and which side of her you got usually depended on how you answered her questions.  Bucky waited patiently while she entered the room and circled him slowly, using the magic woven into every facet of her being to observe more in him than mortal eyes could ever comprehend.  

After several minutes, she stopped directly in front of him, her eyes level with his own.  “You have but minutes left, and I would offer you a deal.  Would you hear my terms?”

He kept his voice low, just quieter than her own tone, as was proper in her society.  “I would hear them.”  

Her head tilted slightly as she leaned even closer to him, her breath a sweet perfume which nearly made him light headed.  He forced himself to focus on her words and body language.  Every detail was important in these sort of exchanges.  

“I would offer you a new life.  A portal into another world.  A world of magic.  Though you may take no physical possessions with you, you would take all of the gifts of your soul.”  She paused as she put her hand on his chest just over his heart, letting him think about her words for moment and observing.  When she spoke again, it was even softer.  “In exchange, I would take your seed.”

His eyes blew open.  Out of all the things she could have asked for, that was the furthest from anything he expected.  

She took a step back and looked him over slowly, taking in his physical form.  “You are surprised, but perhaps you shouldn’t be.  You are a Guardian, Champion of Earth, a literal god born of men.  Your nobility is known throughout the realms, as is your strength.  You are the greatest warrior born of this species.  Additionally, you are pleasing to my eye.  My husband can no longer conceive a child, and after millenia of discussion, we have decided that only you are worthy to sire the next of my line.  It is but an added benefit that it would also be the first of yours.”

He forced himself to keep his breathing even, even as his mind raced.  The fey never lied, and she had just heaped a lot on him in that very complementative statement.  What she wanted was a life for a life, both fresh and naked, but otherwise equal.  He bit his lip as he observed her.  He knew she wouldn’t rush him, she never had before.  She wanted to have his kid.  His child.  After all these years of telling people the fey weren’t anything like fairytale stereotypes, the irony of her asking for his firstborn was not lost on him.  

His stomach dropped.  His firstborn.  All these years, about two centuries worth, and he still hadn’t had a family, despite that being the thing he wanted most in his youth.  Now, he honestly couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted by her offer.  She’d asked for his seed, not sex, so this was basically more like being a sperm donor than being a father.  He would never meet the kid.  He’d be off in some other world entirely by the time Titania was even pregnant.  

Titania was also a queen, and a particularly powerful one at that.  She would have the ability to take care of any child she had, and the wisdom to make sure they grew into a good person.  Any child raised a prince or princess of the Seelie Court would never end up having the life he did.  No fey would consent to allowing a single fey to become a slave.  To top it off, she had even specifically said the child would be acknowledged as his bloodline.  So many years protecting this world, it was a nice thought that someday there would be people in it who may actually be proud to have come from his line.  It was an odd thought, one he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in in a very long time, but it did fill him with warmth, even if he knew he wouldn’t be around to see it.

Titania’s eyes softened as she invaded his space again, picking up his flesh hand and holding it in both her own.  “Your child will know of your life.  All of it.  And they will be proud to have been the price of your freedom.  To be the price for the life of a god will be a great honor.”

He looked down at her hands holding his own.  Her thin boned fingers were soft and warm against his skin, and he could imagine those hands holding their kid, telling them stories of his various exploits.  He wondered briefly which one would be their favorite.  Maybe the time war, or his dubious escape from Hydra?  

He looked up at the Queen’s eyes and very clearly spoke his answer.  “I accept your terms.”  He moved his metal hand to grasp hers so their hands were a tangled mess between them.  “In my bedroom upstairs, under my bed there are boxes of journals.  I’ve been keeping them since 2014.  If I can’t ever know my first child, then maybe they’ll let the kid know me.”

Titania nodded her head slowly to show she understood.  

They released each others hands and both stood back.  The queen waived her hand and a little pot appeared with a lid.  She arched a brow at him, her bright green eyes sparkling in mirth.  “I trust I do not have to explain this part?”  she stepped close to him, lifting her dainty hand to rub her knuckles lightly down his cheek.  “The way you have been living lately, I do not anticipate it will take long.”  She smirked as she dropped the pot in his hand and sauntered out of the room, leaving him alone.  

He hated that she was right.  Even just a brush against his cheek from a beautiful woman had put a literal shiver in his spine.  His leathers were uncomfortably tight in certain places.  He knew she could hear him still.  She had really only left the room as a courtesy.  She knew exactly what he was doing.  

It was kind of hot.  

It had been over 60 years since he had lost all socialization privileges.  For over 60 years now he had not been allowed to be unsupervised with any other individual.  In some ways, his more recent masters held an even tighter leash than his Hydra masters had.  Now, even though he knew logically that he wasn’t getting any, just knowing that he was alone in his house with a stunning woman was enough to get the blood flowing south.  He unbuttoned the double breasted leather over his chest, revealing the high buttons beneath on the pants.  Leaving the chest to hang open, he slipped his hands down and undid the buttons, taking his time.  Every button undone released a little of the pressure against his straining erection until finally he hit the bottom and pulled the pants and boxers down enough to free himself, breathing a sigh of relief.  

He planted his feet in the exact location she had left him as he took his throbbing cock in his own hand and began to pump it slowly.  Titania had been right.  This wouldn’t take long.  And if she knew that, then that meant she could see his sexual history.  Which meant she had looked.  

His hand pumped faster, paying careful attention to the tip, giving it just a slight little twist the way he liked.  He imagined her watching as he fucked his own hand.  The thought alone had his hip thrusting forward involuntarily.  He let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering a bit as the pressure built up in his lower abdomen.  He was getting close already.  

He let his mind wander to earlier that day, when he had kissed the prosecutor.  He hadn’t planned to do that, but fuck if it wasn’t nice.  She’d tasted like chocolate.  Probably a guilty pleasure when she was stressed.  The feeling of her breasts crushed against him, the shifting of her hips against his as he had plundered her mouth.  God, her little moan as he had pulled her hair.  That’s what did it.  

Even as the pleasure flowed through him, he was mindful enough to make sure to catch all of his leavings in the little vessel Titania had given him.  He stood still for a second, coming down from the short lived high, then proceeded forth as if this were any other business deal.  He secured the lid first, safely setting the little cup aside as he tucked himself back into his pants and began to do up the buttons.  

He was on his last pants button when Titania breezed back in the room.  “I do thank you for your efficiency.”  She picked up the vessel and waved her hand over it.  A shower of golden sparks hit the top and the lid and jar fused together, sealing the contents safely.  She waved her hand and it disappeared, probably to a freezer somewhere.  Her eyes flicked back up to meet his.  “You have kept your end of our deal, and now it is my turn.  Just a bit of advice, for your new home,” she began sternly, putting her arms on her hips.  

He didn’t bother buttoning his vest back up and instead gave her his full attention.

“The realm you will be going to is very different from this one.  While there will be recognizable elements, almost everything you know will be wrong there.  It is a land of magic, not science.  The laws of quantum physics are fundamentally different.  The planet’s cycles are powered by different mechanisms, and magic flows through every facet of that reality.  As such, it may take some time before your body adjusts to the transition.  You will come into your full power in time, but keep an open mind and it will go a lot faster.”  

Bucky nodded politely.  “Yes, your majesty.”  

She nodded, satisfied with his answer.  “Then, if you are ready, I shall open a portal for you.  Once you go through, you will never be able to return.  You will never see or speak to anyone from this world ever again.  Are you ready?”

James swallowed.  His mind briefly flickered to Loki, but he firmly pushed the thought away.  With him gone, Loki would finally be free to go back to his people, maybe even reunite the Jotun as he had daydreamed about.  All Bucky was doing here was holding the prince back.  

He took a deep breath, taking in the smells of his home for possibly the last time.  The worn leather, the old books, and the light hint of citrus from the treatment for his wood floors.  It was comforting, but his new world would have new things to bring him comfort.  And for the first time in a very long time, he would have the ability to choose what place he could seek comfort in.  

He turned a smile to the queen, hope stirring in his chest for the first time since he could remember.  “I’m ready.”  

She turned to face the center of the room in between his couch and the fire place and waved her hand in a circle.  Golden sparks fell from her fingers.  The sparks fell randomly at first, though picking up in density, before they were falling in more of a sparkling curtain.  She kept swirling her hand, and the shower turned into a sort of sparkling cloudy spiral.  It hit the floor, and the floor started to melt down, dripping into a pitch black abyss with only the light of Titania’s magic showing within.  She kept her focus on her spell, an intensity in her eyes telling Bucky this spell was quite a bit more taxing than she typically cast.

“You simply have to step into the portal, and our deal will be complete,” she said, her voice terse.  

He stepped forward, pausing only long enough to utter the word “Goodbye.”

And so James Buchanan Barnes left Earth for lands unknown, leaving everything behind.  In a single tick of the clock, a thick metal ankle bracelet fell to the floor of the empty room.  The sound bounced off the blank walls, echoing loudly enough in the bare house to be heard all the way up the stairs.  Not that there was anyone to hear it.  The townhouse was as empty as the day it was built, with not so much as a speck of dust left behind of the man who once resided there.  Nothing but a metal band with a little blinking red light.  The light blinked three times.  The next blink heralded the end of nearly three million people, wiping all evidence of the disappearance of James Barnes from the face of the Earth.

Next Chapter

Chapter Index

[eder-delin]

@princecharmingtobe !!! i hopei did them justice!! i know i said id draw them like, half a year ago, and i did! but i never got around to actually coloring anything and it didnt feel good enough for me.

bonus:

i liked your idea to have them style their cheek fur depending on what gender they feel like presenting as, so i drew them doing that as well.

[dharmaart]

Hi !

I'm so fond of your sketchs !! Will you draw more mythological horses (kelpies, backahasts, each uisges, alastyns, unicorns, sleipnir, pegasus...) ? Or others mythological creatures like wolpertingers, valravens, peritios, jackalopes... ?

I would like to draw more often with pen ball but I just don't practice enough and the result is not okay ^^

Have a good day !

I'm very happy to have found your blog :)

Thanks!

It kind of depends on how I'm feeling, I'm generally drawn to more realistic subjects but since it seems like quite a few people enjoy my more mythologicaly inspired work I will try to do some more. I'm probably less likely to attempt mythological creatures that aren't horses, but I do like the idea of being a bit more artistically adventurous at some point. A lot of this uncertainty is to do with the insecurities I feel about creating more imaginative art.

I have actually painted a troll but it was a couple of years ago and in the style of John Bauer. I'm not sure if that counts but I've included it here anyway.

[mhysa-leesi]

му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

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Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

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

Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi