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wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch51: Captain America Homecoming

Intro: The team at the compound begin their experiment with the Quantum Tunnel, but it doesn’t all go according to plan. But just as everything seems lost, Tony appears having rethought his initial stance. And he has a little surprise for Steve.

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: I can’t give @angrybirdcr enough credit…she makes my images into, well, erm, images…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 50

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Bruce needed a day to calibrate the computer and systems to the right configuration to use with Scott’s Quantum Tunnel (which was, amusingly yet completely unsurprisingly, in the back of his ugly brown van). Katie took the chance to head into the office to catch up and then inform Soraya she didn’t know how much she would be available in person over the coming week.

They had another day before they were due to collect Emmy from the train station, her five day trip to Philly was drawing to a close and when they had spoken to her last night she had been equal parts excited to come home and fed up that it was ending. But she would be back at school soon, and she had an important few weeks coming up as she was studying for her end of year exams. Neither of them were particularly concerned about that, however, as Emmy was a complete brainbox. Although she was only a freshman, she was taking APs in Human Geography and Psychology (having told her parents she wanted to be a Therapist) and was already being touted by her tutors as Harvard potential. Steve wasn’t overly keen about his daughter being in a different state, but all things considered, Boston wasn’t too far. And he knew he had to let her make her own decision so they’d cross that bridge when they got there.

For the time being, the only bridge Steve wanted to cross was the one he and Natasha were currently planning on making to reach out to the remaining original Avengers, Thor and Clint.

“Thor should be easy, surely?” Nat asked, swinging her feet up onto the table as she sat back in her seat. She looked to Steve for confirmation, but instead he sighed and shook his head.

“Has Katie not told you?”

“Told me what?”

Steve scratched at his chin. “He had a disagreement with one of the Elders about three months back. From what Valkyrie told Katie, there was a bit of an argument over the rebuilding of their army and the elder took a shot at Thor, saying he wasn’t fit to lead any kind of battalion as he had failed to keep them safe from Thanos.”

“That’s harsh.” Nat frowned.

“Yeah, I know.” Steve bit his lip. “I think it was more anger speaking than the guy actually thinking that, but it sent Thor into another downwards spiral and he’s ignored Katie’s attempts to reach out to him again so she’s given in.” “Okay, so, maybe a little harder than we anticipated.” “Least we know where he is. Any luck on Barton?”

“Rhodey thinks he’s targeting a gang in Hong Kong.” Nat sighed. “But I won’t know for sure until he arrives.”

Steve, nodded. “Well when we find out where he is we can scramble a jet and…” “No.” Nat shook her head “Not we, me. I’ll go alone.” “Nat.” Steve frowned “Clint, he’s been leaving a trail of utter carnage behind him, I don’t think you-“

“He wouldn’t hurt me.”

“It’s not him I’m concerned about, more the people he’s taking on.” “I can handle myself.” Nat replied, firmly as she looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling with that Black Widow venom Steve had to admit he had missed over the past few years. He took a deep breath and against his better judgement conceded.

“Alright. We’ll do it your way.”

Natasha frowned, and smirked. “Really? That’s it, no argument?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You want an argument?” “Not really.” She shook her head, smiling.

Steve gave a chuckle and then they were cut off by an incoming call springing up in front of Natasha. She swiped to her right and the hologram form of Rocket appeared on the desk.

“Hey Nat.” He nodded, turning to Steve, “Cap.We’re wrapping things up on that latest lead, then we have to nip to Contraxia as I need a few things,” he Raccoon explained, looking at them both, “should be with you day after tomorrow lunchtime, ish” “Rocket, you were close to Thor right?” Steve spoke, an idea coming to him.

“Kinda, why?” “We need him.” Steve stated simply. “He knows about the stones, but convincing him could be a bit of a task. So I was thinking maybe you could help and go with Katie to New Asgard.” The animal pondered for a while before he shrugged. “I can try.”

“That’s all any of us can do.”

The raccoon nodded again “Alright.” He turned to Nat. “We’ll see you soon.” And with that he disappeared.

Steve stayed at the compound until late afternoon, popping in to see how Bruce and Scott were getting on, before he made his way home. Katie and Jamie were already back and he could hear the two of them in the living room.

“Who’s that?” Jamie asked as he pointed to the photo in the album that his Mom had open on her lap.

“That’s your Uncle Sam.” She smiled at the photo of Steve and his best man at the reception of their wedding “You know you get your name from him, well one of them anyway.”

“Where is he now?” Jamie asked.

“He err…he went away” Katie said slowly as she tried to figure out how to explain this to a three year old. “You know how daddy has told you about his friend, Uncle Bucky?” “Yeah.” “Well, a few years ago, before you were born, The Avengers, well they had a fight, with a nasty man, and your Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam, and one of our other friends, a lady called Wanda…they had to go away afterwards.”

“Was Uncle Tony in the fight?”

“Yeah, he was.”

“And Auntie Nat-Nat?”

“Yeah. And Thor. There were a lot of people involved?”

“Did you and daddy fight with the Avengers?” Jamie asked, his eyes wide.

At that point Katie looked up and saw Steve hovering in the door way. He swallowed and walked into the room.

“A long time ago buddy, yeah.” He nodded.

“Did you know Captain America?” Jamie’s eyes were now almost the size of dinner plates.

“I did yeah.” Steve nodded, kneeling down in front of his son. “But he gave up fighting.” Jamie pondered something as Katie looked at her husband. “Not for much longer though.” She locked eyes with him.

Steve took a deep breath and swallowed once more. He wasn’t sure he’d ever hold that shield again.

“Maybe.” he said, shrugging, before he stood up and settled on the couch at the other side of his son.

Jamie made to turn the page in the album and the next photo was one of Steve’s favourites and one they had a large framed version of on the mantel piece. It showed him and Katie at their first dance, heads pressed together, huge smiles on their faces as he held her close.

“Momma you look real pretty!” Jamie smiled and Katie dropped a kiss to his head.

“Thanks, Baby.” “Your momma always looks pretty.” Steve smiled “She’s the most beautiful girl on the planet.” “Charmer.” Katie looked at him as he stretched his arm over the back of his son and pulled her in closer.

“Only for you.” He winked, dropping a kiss to her cheek.

****** Tony stood at the sink, rinsing down the dishes from dinner whilst Pepper settled Morgan down for the night. He’d spoken to Kiddo earlier, she’d told him they were running the first Time Travel trial tomorrow. He’d managed to push it out of his mind for most of the afternoon but now, as he stood alone, he kept thinking about it over and over again. He knew Bruce was clever, but this really wasn’t his area…

What if something went wrong? Not his problem.

Tony’s grip on the attachment to the tap slipped and it jerked out of his hand, spraying water all over the place. With a sigh he turned it off and grabbed the tea towel, mopping up the water from around the sink and then the shelf which it had squirted all over. He glanced at the photos, and paused for a moment at the frame that was placed just to the right of the one which held a picture of his dad. He took a deep breath as he wiped the water off the faces- him and Peter Parker holding the fake Stark Internship Certificate upside down, each one pulling peace signs behind the other’s head. He swallowed.

“We can snap our own fingers. We can bring everybody back.”

Tony looked around his kitchen, his stomach turning slightly. Yes, he had something to fight for, something personal, the kid. They all had something personal right? Natasha had Clint’s family, Rogers and Kiddo had Barnes, Wilson and Wanda… Scott had his girlfriend, or whatever. But he couldn’t risk it. He shouldn’t risk it….

But they were going to risk it. He knew that. And they could, probably would, fuck it up without him.

“Damned it, Rogers.” He mumbled, placing the photo down and heading into the dining room.

Two hours later, Pepper was out in the greenhouse as she often was later at night and Tony was talking to FRIDAY, with whom he had been brainstorming a number of ideas for the past hour and a half. He looked the holographic model in front of him and tapped at the pad on the table.

“Look at a mod inspiration, let’s see if it checks out.” He instructed, watching as the image changed in front of his eyes. “So…” he pressed a few keys again, “run one last sim before we pack it in for the night,” he clapped his hands together and paced round the side of the table, “this time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing.“ FRIDAY replied as Tony crossed his arms and watched.

“Give me that Eigen value,” he reached out to spin the image with his hand, “that, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp,” he grabbed the bottle on the side of the table to take a drink of the smoothie he had made, “that will take a second.”

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out,” he replaced the top on his drink and grabbing a blueberry from the packet he had been eating, “I’m just kinda…” he trailed off chewing the fruit, as he watched FRIDAY do her business.

“Model rendered.”

The red words ‘Model Successful’ with a rating of ‘99.987%’ flashed in front of his eyes and Tony felt his mouth drop open, utterly bewildered by his discover. He fell back into his chair, looking up at it and his mouth flew to his hand. He, Tony Stark, had figured out how to do exactly what Lang had proposed, how to safely travel time.

Despite himself, he felt a certain level of pride and smugness, and he threw his arms out to his side. “Shit!” He laughed out.

“Shit.” A voice spoke from behind him, followed by a giggle. He paused, and turned to see his daughter was sat on the bottom stair, grinning at him.

He held his finger to his lips and shook his head. “What are you doing up, little miss?”

“Shit.” She repeated again.

“No, we don’t say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?” Morgan looked at him.

“Cause I got some important shit going on here,” Tony jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the hologram, “what do you think?”

Morgan shot him a frown and he took a deep breath, when she pulled that face she looked ridiculously like her Auntie. ”No, I got something on my mind,” he explained in a softer tone.

“Was it Juice Pops?” Morgan asked, hopefully.

“Sure was.” Tony looked at the other side of the room before he turned back to his daughter, “extortion. That’s a word.” He stood up and looked down at her. “What kind you want?” He asked, taking her hand and she stood up. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on-” he looked back to the model then turned towards the kitchen “-my mind.”

A little while and a juice pop later Morgan was back in bed, demanding a story.

“Once upon a time, Morgoona went to bed. The end.” Tony grinned.

“That is a horrible story.” Morgan looked at him with a glare.

“Come on, that’s your favorite story.” He grinned and as she rolled her eyes he smiled. “I love you tons.” He made it clear that was the end of the conversation by standing up, kissing her on the forehead.

“I love you three thousand.” Morgan looked at him and Tony smiled.

“Wow.” he said, quietly. His daughter had an ability, very like Kiddo, to say things that sideswiped him, and made his chest burst with love, and this was one of those moments. He contemplated that for a moment before he stood up and turned off her lamp. “Three thousand, that’s crazy.”

He walked to the door, and closing it behind him, still grinning he told her “Go to bed, or I’ll sell all your toys, night night.”

By the time he reached the living room Pepper was back inside, sat on the couch reading a book.

“Not that it’s a competition-” Tony spoke and Pepper looked up at him “-but she loves me three thousand.”

“Oh does she now?” Pepper smiled.

“You were somewhere on the low six to nine-hundred range.” Pepper laughed and turned back to her book. Tony, still chewing on the juice pop stick looked back to where the model was still projecting over his table.

“What you reading?” He asked, although he wasn’t particularly interested. His mind was racing once more.

“Oh, it’s just a book on composting”.

“What’s new with composting?” His eyes were still on the image. “Interesting science…” she began, but he cut her off.

“I figured it out, by the way.” Tony looked back at her, removing the juice pop stick from his mouth.”

“And, you know, just so we’re talking about the same thing –“

“Time travel.”

“What?” Pepper whispered as Tony glanced back at the hologram, arms folded. “Wow,” her gaze dropped down slightly, “that’s amazing, and terrifying.”

“That’s right.” He dropped down beside her, his left arm hanging over the back of the sofa.

“We got really lucky.” Pepper said, stroking his arm.

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

“No, but I can’t help everybody.”

“Well, it sorta seems like you can.” Pepper pressed again.

“Not if I stop.” Tony shrugged, and Pepper gave a small huff of a laugh. “I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony, trying to get you to stop has been one of the few failures of my entire life.”

Tony gave a soft laugh and his right arm gently rubbed the hand that was laid over his left arm.

“Something tells me I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of the lake, go to bed.”

There was a pause, before Pepper looked at him again, her eyes soft and her face rearranged into a knowing expression.

“But would you be able to rest?”

Tony didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. They both knew the answer was no. *******

“Alright, Emmy, remember what I said?” Katie looked at her daughter who was sat on the couch in the living room of their old quarters.

“Yeah, I can’t leave here until someone comes to get us.” Emmy nodded

“No matter what.”

“Yeah mom, I got it. We’ll be fine, wont we Jamie?”

Jamie nodded, grinning up at his mother “Yeah, fine.”

“Okay, love you both.”

With one last glance over her shoulder at her kids, Katie made her way back to the hanger.

“Breakers are set. Emergency generators are on standby.” She heard Steve call out as he strode back towards the computer. Katie couldn’t help but admire his ass, he looked pretty good in a pair of black denims, light blue shirt as always tucked in, belt circling his toned waist. He looked at her, raising an eyebrow with a smug smirk as he caught the expression on her face and she shrugged.

“Good, ‘coz if we blow the grid, I don’t wanna lose Tiny here in the 1950s,” Bruce said through gritted teeth, jerking his thumb at Scott, only his comment wasn’t quite as quiet as he thought. Scott, who was stood in his suit, fiddling with something on his helmet heard perfectly.

“Excuse me?” Scott glared at Banner as Katie and Steve exchanged a glance. .

“He’s kidding!” Natasha said in a playful voice, shaking her head as she tapped on the tablet she was holding which would be used to track Scott. She looked up with a smile, which Katie knew perfectly to be false and laughed. “You can’t say things like that.” Natasha looked at Bruce.

“Yeah, sorry, it was…just a bad joke.” He smiled as he looked at Scott. Scott nodded once as he walked back to the van.

“You were kidding right?” Katie looked at Bruce.

“I have no idea!” Bruce hissed. “We’re talking about time travel here, either it’s all a joke or none of it is!” He looked away from Katie and flashed Scott the thumbs up. “We’re good.”

Steve crossed his arms and let out a breath as Scott pulled his helmet on. He gave Bruce a double thumbs up and Katie smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“Alright Scott, we’re gonna send you back a week, let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in ten seconds. Make sense?” Bruce asked as he tapped at the keys on his desk with a pencil

“Perfectly not confusing.” Scott shrugged.

Okay, so now Steve was nervous. He took a deep breath and looked at the man stood by the back of the van, his hands dropping to his hips.

“Good luck Scott. You’ve got this.” He refrained from adding I hope.

“You’re right. I do Captain America.” Scott grinned, proudly, as Bruce hit a button, sucking him into the tunnel.

“On the count of three-“ Bruce called, and Steve dropped his hands, his fists clenching, mouth open slightly as he watched . At the other side of Bruce, Katie and Nat shared a nervous glance. “Three… two…one…” Steve breathed a sigh of relief as someone appeared but it was short lived as he realised the person in front of them could be no older than Emmy. Katie frowned as did Natasha, confusion etched across her face and next to them, Bruce adjusted his glasses.

"Guys, something doesn’t feel right.” The boy informed them nervously.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, as Bruce set about pressing a load more buttons. “Hang on…”

“Is that Scott?” Katie’s eyes grew wide as she looked at Bruce, who ducked down to hit something on the console, her eyes locking with Steve who looked as utterly perplexed as she felt.

“Yes, it’s Scott!” The boy exclaimed.

Teenage Scott was sucked back into the tunnel, Natasha watching Bruce as he straightened up and the four of them looked back to the tunnel to see another person thrown out, this time an elderly man.

“Ow, my back!”

“What is this?” Steve asked

“Can I…I need a little space!” Bruce demanded as he moved to his right.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Steve hastily moved out of the way and going to stand in between his wife and Natasha. “Can you bring him back?”

“I’m working on it.” Bruce hit one of the screens. Katie, Steve and Nat shared another panicked look as Old Scott was yanked back in only to this time reappear as…

"That’s a baby.” Steve deadpanned.

“It’s Scott!” Bruce defended.

“As a baby!” Steve snapped as the infant looked up at them wide eyed.

“He’ll grow!” Bruce said, attempting a joke.

“Bring Scott back!” Steve instructed sharply.

“Nat, when I say kill the power, kill the power!” Bruce called and Natasha ran off to the breaker at the side of the hanger.

Katie and Steve watched as Bruce jabbed more buttons, before he yelled out “Kill it!”

Natasha pulled the lever down and Bruce slapped a large red button. This time Scott Lang returned exactly as he had been before he left.

“Somebody peed my pants.” He called out loudly, standing stiffly still. “I don’t know if it was baby me, or old me. Or, just… me-me.”

“Time travel!” Bruce beamed excitedly, throwing his hands out to the side as Katie, Steve and Natasha looked at him. “What? I, I see this as an absolute win.”

Steve simply stared at Bruce in silence for a moment, before he shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. He looked down at the floor before he walked off, Katie watching him as he left the hangar and stepped outside.

“I think we should take a break.” Katie took a deep breath. “Nat can you check the kids, I’m gonna…” She jerked her thumb after Steve and Nat nodded.

Steve stood outside by the large metal pillar at the side of the building, hands still on his hips as he stared at the floor. What was the point of being able to time travel if you couldn’t control it? The worse thing being that he wasn’t even sure if they would be able to perfect it with practice, and was he willing to keep risking Scott to do that? They had been so close, but Tony was right, it had clearly been a pipe dream.

“Hey.” Katie’s hand fell gently to his elbow. “Honey, we knew it was a long shot.” “I know.” He sighed, looking at her. “But I thought it might have worked, you know. That we might have had a chance to…”

He was cut off as a loud engine growled in the distance. They both looked out over the compound to see a familiar Audi R8 speeding down the drive towards the hangar. Katie and Steve exchanged a glance as the car pulled up to where they were stood, but overshot their position slightly. Steve followed the car with his eyes as it backed up and Tony rolled down the window and looked at them both. Steve raised his eyebrows, looking away.

“Why the long face?” Tony asked, directing his question to Steve. “Let me guess: He turned into a baby”

“Among other things, yeah.” Steve replied, an edge of frustration in his voice as he looked back at Tony. “What are you doing here?”

Tony opened the car door and climbed out, walking to the back, completely ignoring Steve’s question as he spoke.

“That’s the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might’ve wound up pushing time through Lang.” Tony looked at Steve “It’s tricky. Dangerous. Somebody shoulda cautioned you against it.”

“You did.” Steve deadpanned, not in the mood for a lecture.

“Oh, did I?” Tony asked, raising an eyebrow and Katie felt a grin cross her face at her brother’s sarcasm “Thank God I’m here. Regardless, I fixed it” Steve raised his eyebrows as he glanced at his brother in law who held up his right hand which bore what looked like a watch of some description. “A fully functioning Time-Space GPS.

At this Steve let out a genuine smile as he realised Tony was here to help. Tony returned it with one of his own

“I just want peace.” He made the sign with his fingers. “Turns out, being angry and bitter is corrosive, and I hate it.

“Me too.” Steve nodded softly, recognizing this for what it was. An apology for the other day, and he was happy to provide his own.

“Guys, we got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities.” Tony urged softly, looking from Steve to Katie and back again “Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs”.

“So do we, Tony.” Katie implored. “Our Kids, they’re the most important thing to us.”

“Nothing we do can jeopardise them.” Steve dropped his left arm round Katie. “Any of them.”

“And maybe if we could manage to not die trying, that would be nice.” Tony shrugged.

Steve smiled and held out his right hand. “Sounds like a deal.”

Tony shook it, before he smiled, cheekily, and headed to the trunk. Steve looked at his wife and she shrugged, before the two of them followed him, Steve watching curiously. Tony lifted something out, turned it upside down to dislodge the teddy bear sat on it and Katie’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw it was Steve’s shield.

Steve hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Tony… I don’t know..” He swallowed, the nerve twitching in his jaw. He wasn’t worthy of that shield, not anymore.

“Why? He made it for you.” Tony held Steve’s gaze. “Plus, honestly, I have to get it out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.” Steve looked over his shoulder at Katie, who was fighting back her tears and she gave him an encouraging nod. He lifted his arm and Tony slid the shield straps over his shirt and Steve looked down at it, taking a shaky breath. It felt like slipping into a familiar pair of sneakers.

“Thank you, Tony.” Steve looked up at his brother-in-law, his voice choked as behind him, Katie dropped a hand to his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the spot between his shoulder blades, her face resting on his shirt.

“Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn’t bring one for the whole team.” Tony hesitated for a moment. “We are getting the whole team, yeah?

“We’re working on that right now.” Katie moved so she could see Tony, before she heard a yell behind her.

“Uncle Nee!” Jamie shot straight by her and launched at his Uncle.

“Hey, Sport!” Tony grinned, picking him up. “What you been up to?” “Me and Emmy were colouring and making dinosaur models.” “Wow!” Tony nodded, turning to Emmy who was walking towards them.

“Mom?” Her voice was a whisper as she spotted what Steve was holding. “Dad’s…” “Yeah.” Katie smiled at her, dropping an arm round the teenager’s shoulders as she continued to glance at his shield. Never one to miss anything, Jamie glanced at his Sister, then his dad and his eyes widened.

“Why you have shield like Captain America?” Jamie frowned as Steve ran his fingers over the edge of the Vibranium before looking at his son as Tony placed him on the floor, struggling to find the words to explain.

Tony clapped Steve on the shoulder “Alright, I’ll leave that one with you. Time to go see what a mess of my compound Brucie has made. ”He walked passed Emmy, dropping an arm round her shoulders. “Walk with me kid, tell me about Philly.” He shot a glance at Katie who smiled as he steered the teenager back to the compound whilst she began excitedly telling him about her trip.

Steve turned to look Katie, his eyes glistening with emotion.

“Still suits you.” She smiled to him and he gave a little chuckle.

“Daddy!” Jamie insisted, tugging on his trousers, annoyed at his question being ignored.

“Sorry Pal,” Steve crouched down, shield still on his arm. “I have a shield like Captain America because I was Captain America.”

Jamie frowned before his eyes grew wide. An older kid might have laughed and told his dad to stop being silly, but Steve had never lied to Jamie before and it would never have occurred to the three year old to ever think he would.

“You were Captain America?” Jamie frowned. “When you fighted with the Avengers?”

“Yeah” Steve sighed, running his hand through Jamie’s golden hair. “I was.”

“Are you still Cap now?”

“I dunno.” Steve glanced back at his shield before he looked at Jamie, smiling gently.

“I think you are.” Jamie cocked his head to one side as his hand reached out to touch the shield. “Because Cap’s a hero and you’re my hero”

Katie saw Steve’s eyes water instantly as he pulled Jamie closer to him, dropping a kiss to the side of his head as the boy’s arms wound around his dad’s neck. He glanced up at Katie and she swallowed, leaning against the column to her left, wiping her eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had called any of the Avengers that, and to hear it from his son meant more to Steve than anything.

“Daddy?” Jamie mumbled against his dad’s shoulder, where his head lay.

“Yeah?” Steve cleared his throat.

“You got a helmet too?” Jamie pulled back to study his father’s face as Steve gave out a soft laugh

“Yeah buddy. I do.”

“And a uniform?”

“I have a few.” Steve nodded.

“Can I see?” Jamie’s face lit up and Steve glanced at Katie who smiled, nodding encouragingly.

“Sure… come on.” Steve stood up, Jamie easily lifted in his free arm. “You coming?” He stopped at his wife’s side as she reached up a hand to smooth down Jamie’s jumper which had ridden up slightly.

“I think this is a hero to son moment, don’t you?” She smiled, standing on her toes so she could give his lips a peck. “Besides, someone’s gotta stop Tony creating havoc in there.” “Good luck with that.” He muttered, giving her another kiss before he carried Jamie into the compound, striding through the hangar doors and across to the corridor. Katie waited for a moment, composing herself before she headed back inside.

**** True to their word, Nebula and Rocket arrived the following lunch and it wasn’t long after that Katie and Rocket headed off to New Asgard, along with Banner. Banner and Thor had shared a lot during the events leading up to Thanos’ attacking the Asgardian ship and Katie was hoping that together they stood a better chance of convincing the God to help. Katie sat in the passenger seat of the truck belonging to one of the Asgardians who had come to greet them. She couldn’t help but smile as they rolled past the sign at the side of the road WELCOME TO NEW ASGARD, PLEASE DRIVE SLOWLY. They stopped at the small port, and Katie hopped out of the truck, thanking the man, whilst Bruce and Rocket climbed out of the back.

“Kind of a step down from a golden palace for an Avenger highness and whatnot.” Rocket mused, looking around.

“Hey, have a little compassion, pal.” Bruce said gently. “First they’ve lost Asgard, then half the people. They’re probably just happy to have a home.”

Katie spotted Valkyrie who smiled at her, and then her face rearranged into surprise as she saw Bruce.

“You shouldn’t have come!” She warned as they approached her.

“Ah, Valkyrie! Great to see you, Angry Girl.” Bruce smiled.

“I think I liked you better either of the other ways.” She almost chuckled, taking in his appearance.

“This is Rocket.” Katie gestured to the raccoon.

“How you doin’?” He greeted her.

Valkyrie nodded at him before she turned to Katie. “He won’t see you.

“Still that bad, huh?” Katie folded her arms.

“We only see him once a month, when he comes for-“ she looked over to the pile of kegs on the side of the port, “-supplies.

“It’s that bad?” Bruce mumbled.

“Yeah.”

“We have to try.” Katie bit her lip, looking round before she turned to Bruce and Rocket. “Come on.” She led them down the side of the harbour and they walked up the small, cobbled street towards the fishing hut Thor was living in. Katie paused, and tried the handle. It opened and Rocket stepped in first. Instantly, Katie was hit with a smell that made her nose wrinkle. It was a combination of dirty clothes, stale beer and old take-outs.

“What the… woo!” Rocket grimaced, waving his paw in front of his nose. “Something died in here.”

“Hello? Thor?” Bruce called.

Thor’s voice rumbled through to them from another room. “Are you here about the cable?”

They made their way into the main room and Thor, who was shirtless, having definitely put on more than a couple of pounds since Katie had last seen him, was walking across the room gesturing to the TV.

“The Cinemax ran out about two weeks ago, and the sports are all kind of fuzzy.” He grabbed a beer from the ice bucket and Katie looked at Bruce who was frowning.

“Thor?” He asked, his voice disbelieving.

Thor turned and took a moment to look at the three of them, before his face cracked into a smile

“Boys!” He laughed out. “Little Stark! Oh my God! It’s so good to see you!” He crossed towards Rocket, trying to hug him, his knuckles rubbing the raccoons head. “Come here, you little rascal!”

“No, I’m good. I’m good. That’s not necessary.” Rocket groaned, wriggling away.

“Hulk, Little Stark, you know my friends, Miek, Korg, right?”

Miek and Korg were sat on a couch, the Rock creature in a Hawaiian shirt, play station controller in his hand playing what looked to Katie like Fortnite- one of Emmy’s favourites.

“Hey guys!” Korg raised his hand in greeting.

“Hey!” Bruce smiled. “Long time no see.”

“Beers in the bucket. Feel free to log on to the Wi-Fi. No password, obviously.” Korg said cheerfully as he turned back to his game, growing suddenly serious. “Thor, he’s back. The kid on the TV that called me a dickhead again.”

“Noobmaster.” Thor growled out as he spun round. Miek threw a piece of pizza towards the TV in disgust, giving a little click.

“Yeah, Noobmaster69. Called me a dickhead.”

Thor stomped over to Korg, took his headphones and spoke loudly into the mic.

“Noobmaster? Yeah, it’s Thor again. You know, the God of Thunder? Listen, buddy. If you don’t log off this game immediately, I am gonna fly over to your house, come down to that basement you’re hiding in, rip off your arms and shove them up your butt! Oh, that’s right. Yes, go cry to your father, you little weasel!”

Katie and Rocket exchanged a look as Thor returned Korg’s head set, before she glanced up at Banner who was watching, a look of disbelief on his face and Katie couldn’t help but echo his feelings. Seeing their friend, their once mighty Avenger partner, in such a state made her beyond sad.

“So you guys want a drink? What are you drinking? We have beer, tequila, all sorts of things.” Thor asked, using Stormbreaker to open a bottle of beer. Bruce walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Buddy, you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine! Why, don’t I look all right?” Thor frowned.

“You look like melted ice cream.” Rocket crossed his arms, but despite his joke Katie could tell he was concerned.

Thor simply laughed and looked at them all. “So, what’s up?

“We need your help” Katie spoke gently “There might be a chance we could fix everything.”

“What, like the cable?” Thor burped. “Cause that’s been driving me bananas for weeks.”

“Like Thanos.” Bruce spoke and Katie saw Thor’s smile slowly disappear. He put a shaky hand on Bruce’s shoulder and pointed at him.

“Don’t you say that name.”

Behind Thor, Korg stood up, taking off his headphones. “Um, yeah. We don’t actually say that name in here.”

“Please take your hand off me” Bruce’s tone was quiet as he brushed away Thor’s grip on his shoulder. “Now, I know that… guy might scare you…”

“Why would, why would I be scared of that guy?” Thor scoffed, turning away. “I’m the one who killed that guy, remember? Anyone else here killed that guy? Nope. Didn’t think so. Korg, why don’t you, tell everybody who chopped Thanos’ big head off.”

“Umm… Stormbreaker?” Korg offered.

“No, who was swinging Stormbreaker?” Thor shot back.

“Thor.” Katie started gently. “I get it, we all get it. You’re in a rough spot right now-”

“I’ve been there myself.” Bruce picked up from her “You wanna know who helped me out of it?”

“I don’t know…Natasha?” Thor snorted and Katie rolled her eyes.

“It was you. You helped me”.

Thor walked back over to Bruce and pointed out of the window with the hand holding his beer. “Why don’t you ask the Asgardians down there, how much my help was worth?” he dropped onto the chair “The ones that are left, anyway.”

“We think we can bring them back.” Katie looked at him.

“Little Stark, please stop. Stop, okay?” Thor pleaded, opening a packet of M&Ms. “I know you think I’m down here wallowing in my own self-pity, waiting to be rescued and saved. But I’m fine, okay? We’re fine, aren’t we?”

He looked at Korg and Miek eating pizza and playing once more on the Playstation.

“Nah, all good here, mate!” Korg nodded.

Katie looked back at Thor as he stared up at her. “So, whatever it is that you’re offering, we’re not into it, don’t care, couldn’t care less. Goodbye.”

“We need you Thunder God.” Katie swallowed as she shook her head sadly. ”Please.”

Thor shook his head and ignored her.

“There’s beer on the ship.” Rocket broke the silence, crossing his arms.

Thor paused, and without looking up he spoke again, this time his words softer. “What kind?”

**** Chapter 52

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #Katie Stark #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers fic #mcu #mcu fanfic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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audreycritter · 4 years

Note

Hey! for the prompt thingy, the batboys bored (in quarantine maybe?), giving each other terrible haircuts? And if you throw some angs for no good reason in the middle, even better! Thank you!! :D

Listen, I’m so sorry, I think I broke? I thought it was going to have angst but it didn’t happen. I don’t know who I am anymore. ***

“I’m going to actually murder you,” Tim Drake said, while studying himself in the handheld mirror. The mirror frame was navy plastic, with rocketship stickers on the back; one of them was peeling in a little curl that dusted Tim’s knuckle.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” Dick Grayson said from behind him. His expression, when Tim caught it in the reflection, was slightly strained-- his teeth tugged at his bottom lip, and he quickly schooled it into something that looked more thoughtful than anxious. Fingers darted out and tried, repeatedly, to smooth down a stubborn lock of hair sticking up above Tim’s forehead.

“Uh-huh,” Tim said, unconvinced.

“It’s just used to laying this way,” Dick insisted. “You’ve gotta retrain it. A shower will help. Then blow dry it.”

“Blow dry? Who has time to blow dry hair?” Tim sputtered.

“Do you not blow dry your hair?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow. He withdrew his hand just in time to miss Tim swatting at his fingers, and took a step back to study his work.

“Do you?” Tim exclaimed, twisting in the seat. Soft brown clumps of hair fell from his shoulder to the floor when he moved, and he scratched irritably at his neck.

“Of course I do,” Dick said.

Tim raised the mirror and frowned again. “I don’t have time in my life for–”

“You do, right now,” Dick interrupted. Tim shot him a glare.

“I don’t want to have time in my life for blow drying. A trim. I said a trim. We should have waited for Alfred, this is…this is…”

“So, it’s a little avant garde. You’re a trendsetter. King of the mods.”

“I. Am. Going. To. Disembowel. You. With. One. Of. Alfred’s. Tea. Spoons.”

“If you do,” a voice drifted up from beneath the nearby dressing bench in Bruce’s master bath, “you will not succeed. I will take that spoon and place it so deep in your left nostril that–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dick said, ducking down to stare at Damian. “Nobody is killing anybody with a teaspo-- why the left nostril?”

“The right,” Damian replied sharply, “is for the knife.”

“Like you can reach that high,” Tim rolled his eyes.

“We’re the same height!” Damian screeched, a long-running argument resurfacing in a heartbeat. “The same!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” said Tim. “Dick. Fix this. Find someone in the house who can fix this or I will put sugar in your cycle engine.”

“Tim,” Dick said. He spread his hands in a placating gesture. “That’s a little harsh. Hair will grow back.”

“Fix. It.”

“Though I am loath to do so, I must, in this case, agree with Drake,” Damian grumbled, climbing out from beneath the bench to kneel on the floor. “You have succeeded in making him look more ridiculous. You have my congratulations, Richard, I did not believe such a thing could be done.”

“Ah, there it is,” Tim nodded, a rueful scowl twisting his lips. He pinched his fingers together. “You were this close to being nice. So close. A baby step away.”

“I will fix it,” Damian said. “Where are father’s clippers?”

“No. You’re not getting anywhere near my head with a blade of any kind,” Tim said, reeling back in the seat. He stumbled halfway to his feet and shot a pleading look at Dick.

“I’ll use the clippers,” Dick said, taking them from Damian when he finished rummaging in a cabinet and withdrew with them in his hands. “What guard?”

“I don’t know. Seven? Three? Four? What number do I say that fixes this?” Tim asked. He shrugged, a slump to his frame. He looked defeated. “I just wanted a trim.”

The only sound in the room for several minutes was the low hum of the clippers. When Dick stepped back, Tim examined himself again in the mirror and sighed at the single-length buzz cut.

“Dick,” he whined. “I look like a reject from the Marines.”

Bruce materialized behind them in the doorway, and confiscated the scissors Damian was spinning in the air by snatching them on an upward arc.

“Told’ja I could do it,” Dick crowed, triumphant. “Shorter than an inch. Pay up, sucka.”

“Dick!” Tim exhaled, aghast, glancing between Dick and Bruce. “Bruce? Really? You bet on my hair?”

“Just in time for a family portrait,” Bruce said. “It looks nice. It’ll grow back, Tim.”

Tim’s mouth hung open for a minute before he stammered, “What did he even win?”

Tim’s eyes caught Damian’s in a single brief second of younger sibling solidarity and Tim knew Damian wasn’t going to sound a warning.

“A day with the car,” Bruce said, and the faint sound of scissors going snick trailed his words. Dick’s hand flew back so fast he nearly caught his palm on the blades, but Bruce must have anticipated and moved them quickly. The expression of betrayed horror on Dick’s face was nearly comical, as a large, uneven chunk of the hair dusting his shoulders fell to the tile floor.

“Bruce,” Dick said, his gaze wide and wounded.

“Don’t make that face,” Bruce said, but it was pleading instead of scolding. He leaned closer, all the same, to speak nearly directly into Dick’s ear. “No. Damn. Mullets.”

“The level of control you try to exert over our hair choices is approaching dictatorship,” Tim started, “and I’m going to–”

“The new WE laptop prototype is yours if you can get Cassandra’s hair combed for the portrait photo,” Bruce said. “Damian’s taking it tomorrow night to use as a painting reference.”

“Done,” Tim said. “Bows? Hairband?”

“Let’s not ask for miracles, here,” Bruce said. He turned to Dick. “Should I finish?”

“Damian,” Dick grumbled, maintaining eye contact with Bruce. He held out the clippers. “Cut my hair.”

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thisweekingundamwing · 4 years

Text

This Week in Gundam Wing July 26 - 01 August 2020

Here’s this week’s roundup!

Remember to give your content creators some love! And join in on the events at the bottom!

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction/Snippets/AU Ideas:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

Unraveled https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379161

F/M, Trowa Barton/Reader

Trowa Barton, Reader

Romance, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Bathing/Washing, ritual bathing

His little witch, he mused with a slight tilt of lips. Even after years of being with you, he still couldn’t get enough of watching you.

Tonight, he vowed, he would keep you company while you bathed.

Lazy Day https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379695

F/M, Heero Yuy/Reader

Heero Yuy, Reader

Romance, Lemon, Lime, Reader-Insert

You would enjoy this day. Every minute of it. And, you vowed, you would have a repeat of it in New York.

Twenty Kisses (Ch. 6 & 7) https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038704/chapters/61620076

F/M, Heero Yuy/Reader

Heero Yuy, Reader

Romance, Kissing, Drabble Collection, Reader-Insert

Kissing Heero is something special.

Deadly Intent https://archiveofourown.org/works/25576657/chapters/62069890

Mature

F/M, Heero/Reader, ???/Reader

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell, Wufei Chang, Lady Une, Relena Peacecraft, Reader

Reader Insert, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Drama, Angst, Romance, Violence, Lime

Eleven years is a long time for a ghost to come back and haunt him. But Heero Yuy finds himself unable to dodge or outrun it. It’s the start of a dangerous cat and mouse game between one of the most powerful organizations in the world and a loner who has every intention of dragging him down with her. After all, she has come with deadly intent.

@coffeetailor

Emergence (Ch. 12) https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322880/chapters/62023231

Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy

Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy, Quatre Raberba Winner, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei, Sally Po

Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, borrowers fusion but don't call them borrowers, disturbing themes like people trafficking from the bad guys, Size Difference, Will probably be a series, alternate canon events, Macro/Micro

Series: Part 1 of Emergence Series

When the war ended, things went a little strange. First, Duo vanished after never having let them see him in person. Then, years later, a tiny race of people are discovered. And that's just the start of things.

@lifeaftermeteor

LAM!Verse https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/625293600094355456/private-island-location-redacted-fiji-south

Private Island [location redacted]

Fiji, South Pacific

14 August 211

Une and Sally arrived on-island to blue skies, a functioning jeep, and a personal escort by Lucrezia Noin.

perryvic & Zaganthi (Caffiends)

All Go Unto Once Place https://archiveofourown.org/works/25520368

M/M, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada

Treize Khushrenada, Quatre Raberba Winner, Change Wufei

Cameos, Anxiety, Mental Health Issues, Aftermath of Torture, ZERO System (Gundam Wing), Alternate Universe - Stargate Atlantis Fusion

He chose the study because it was formal and the least used room in the house, and brought in coffee and water because he needed something to do with his hands. "I'm sorry to request the house call. I haven't been in a reliable enough state to leave the house."

"I quite understand," Bedelia murmured. "Is this the place you feel most comfortable talking?"

He took the coffee and sat in one of the low overstuffed reading chairs rather than at the desk. "Yes. I, what we discussed a couple of weeks ago, you know. Surprising only to me, apparently, it went terribly." He cradled the coffee, watching her select where to sit, posture and movement impeccable as ever.

@simulacraryn

Higurashi https://archiveofourown.org/works/25592344#main

Heero Yuy

Higurashi = Mundane life, living hand-to-mouth. This is a VERY old fic of my (from 2008...), about what life might have been like for Heero after the war.

The Manwell

The Silencer and the Sicarian (Ch. 1 & 2) https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478938/chapters/61805053

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Trowa Barton/Duo Maxwell, Chang Wufei/Solo

Characters: Duo Maxwell, Trowa Barton, Chang Wufei, Solo (Gundam Wing), Hilde Schbeiker, Catherine Bloom, Kyouju H | Instructor H

Additional Tags: Wufei POV, Duo POV, Trowa POV, Solo POV

Series: Part 4 of The Brothers Maxwell

It was just one vow. A simple but necessary promise to respect life -- both human and fey -- but can Duo hold to it when his resolve is put to the ultimate test?

@tziganecaffiends & Zaganthi (Caffiends)

Dust to Dust https://archiveofourown.org/works/25519633/chapters/61915789

M/M, Chang Wufei/Treize Khushrenada

Treize Khushrenada, Chang Wufei, Mariemaia Khushrenada, Duo Maxwell

Domestic Fluff, Bondage, bottom Treize, Mental Instability, Mental Health Issues, Aftermath of Violence, Aftermath of Torture, Rape Aftermath, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Kidnapping, Subspace, Subdrop, Diplomacy, Alternate Universe - Stargate Atlantis Fusion, ZERO System (Gundam Wing), Graphic Dipictions of Violence

It was unbearable, it was too much, and his heart was trying its best to jump out of his chest. Treize managed to get his knees pulled up, and pressed his forehead against them, struggling to breathe as the anxiety crawled up from his gut and clenched around his heart. Not there, anywhere but there, and he'd been fine seeing it in ZERO, not fine, but okay, livable, but being there, smelling the familiar antiseptic hell and must of the place, took his legs out from under him.

He could play forward on all of the other scenarios he hadn't wanted to explore, and he knew when that door opened it wasn't going to be Wufei. It was never going to be what he'd wanted, no matter hard he'd played at it back home with Wufei.

Fanart/Crafts/Photo Manips:

@2pcbiscuit

https://2pcb.tumblr.com/post/625195682010120192/am-i-a-furry-artist-now-quatre-is-supposed-to-be

Raccoon!Trowa, and other cute surprises.

@antarespromise

https://antarespromise.tumblr.com/post/625175674322305024

WuFei Chang

https://antarespromise.tumblr.com/post/625274951362117632

Duo Maxwell

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/625096842616717312/having-waaaay-too-much-fun-rediscovering-art

Trowa Barton

@grey-sentry

https://grey-sentry.tumblr.com/post/624917334680829952/next-batch-of-artwork-for-the-gw-art-discord

Heero & Doktor S

https://grey-sentry.tumblr.com/post/624917124777951232/art-made-for-the-gw-art-discord-i-tried-to-follow

Relena & Catherine

@gundayum

https://gundayum.tumblr.com/post/625232214658056192/i-relish-in-being-a-terrible-human-being

Relena & Heero

@oekakimemo

https://oekakimemo.tumblr.com/post/625242524130361345/20200728-digital

Relena Darlian/Peacecraft

@tatakaumono

https://tatakaumono.tumblr.com/post/625240776436252672/its-evens-propaganda-month-dont-tag-as

Quatre/Duo

Photosets/Gifsets/Screenshots/Manga Pages:

@bobo-is-tha-bomb

https://bobo-is-tha-bomb.tumblr.com/post/625161359751036928/im-so-lucky-to-have-awesome-friends-thank-you

GW T-shirts

@cynthiaandsamus

https://cynthiaandsamus.tumblr.com/post/625268346914586624/like-everyone-in-gundam-wing-is-a-ridiculously

Zechs Merquise

@janaverse

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/625277358889451521/aannnnndddd-theyre-done-3-the-process-was-a

Heero & Duo silhouettes

https://janaverse.tumblr.com/post/625280260361093120/for-scale-btw-they-are-perfectly-framed-from

For scale - Heero & Duo silhouettes

Head Canons:

@disturbed02girl

https://disturbed02girl.tumblr.com/post/625254324341194752/gw-fashion-mix-day-off

GW Fashion Mix - Day Off : Duo, Heero, Trowa, WuFei, Quatre

Fandom Discourse:

@lifeaftermeteor

https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/625289823670927360/whats-all-this-then-although-the-gw-discord

Discord Meet-up! 0900 EST on both Saturday (August 29) and Sunday (August 30)

Quotes:

@incorrectgundamwingquotes

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/625002948624318464/iria-father-quatre-youre-family-you-shouldnt

Iria & Rashid

https://incorrectgundamwingquotes.tumblr.com/post/625184158043570177/duo-to-trowa-are-you-trying-to-hurt-my-feelings

Duo at Trowa

Calendar Events:

@gwcocktailfriday

Cocktail Fridays!

Post responses on Friday, during Happy Hour between 3 & 5 pm in your own timezone.

Here’s the prompt for Friday, August 7th! https://gwcocktailfriday.tumblr.com/post/625255859848642560/cocktail-friday-post-responses-on-friday-august

In need of SUMMER & FALL/AUTUMN prompts!

@gwoc-october

GW OC October 2020!

Help pick out prompts! https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/621130082429337600/hello-gundam-wing-folks-thats-right-gw-oc

@seasons-of-gundamwing

Summer of Hilde!

Check the page today! The full prompt list was set to post at 10AM!

We also have an AO3 collection now! Come check it out. https://seasons-of-gundamwing.tumblr.com/post/624191236146855936/seasons-of-gundam-wing-archive

@thisweekingundamevents

Events Calendar

https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/624053314842230784/event-calendar-update

If you are hosting an event currently, or are planning on one, hit us up with links and dates! We’ll add them to the Calendar and reblog your notices to get the word out!

#Gundam Wing #This Week in Gundam Wing #Weekly Roundup #July 26 - 01 August 2020

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isoulcakei · 5 years

Text

I tried out photo mode for the first time, and it’s pretty cool.

I also noticed the ability to choose whether you and your partner wore a mask and frame, just the frame, or none at all. Which led me to think- Oliver was your partner for some time, does this also work on him?

Excitied to see his face (people have revealed it before but it was modded, I think, and he definitely looks better using the photo mode option), I immediately started a new game. This is what I got.

#code vein #Oliver #oliver collins #face reveal #photo mode #1.50

87 notes · View notes

saokpe · 4 years

Text

HDLW Sibling Week 2020 - Day 7: Free Day!

Well guys, we finally made it to the end! This has been one hell of a week, definitely in my personal life, but even more so here! The mods at the HDLW Sibling Week tumblr have been amazing this week, I can't give them enough praise for both their choice of prompts and their support of the various artists that participated in this event! Artist's submissions that you can see reblogged over at their tumblr blog @hdlwsiblingweek2020, so please give those a look if you haven't already. I am also eternally grateful for the positive response these fics have gotten, it really was what kept me going throughout these hectic collection days. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you!

This final fic is definitely my most ambitious of the week, hence why it took all seven days to work on and is being posted a couple hours later than usual (sorry!). A story meant to make reference to all of my previous HDLW Sibling Week fics but also work as a stand alone story of sacrifice and action! I love how it turned out, I hope you all do as well! (Sorry for the long message, please enjoy...)

A Drawn Out War

My feet slam and echo across the hollow chambers of the remains of McDuck manor. I clutch my weapons between my fingers, its sharp edges scratching along my already weathered and distraught palm. My clothes torn, my pristine pale face vandalized with the war paint my quivering expression wore. My feet keep moving, the nagging voice at the back of my head begging me to surrender, my resolve not allowing that cowardice to take over. She could be anywhere, yes, ready to pounce, ready to relieve me of this stress I allowed myself to carry, ready to aim her barrel between my eyes and allow me bliss. I don’t want bliss.

The wooden hallways I stalked threatens to turn, a sudden panic overtaking me as the idea of what hid at the other end drenched me. “I wonder if my brothers are still in the game?” My head cruelly asks, the thought dragging every step I attempt to take. I reach the hallway’s turn, the corner of my eye catching an odd construct. The continuing alleyway housed not tensed air but instead an elongated line of walls made completely out of blankets. My curious gaze is promptly stolen from me, however, as the moment I reach the odd monument’s presence, my leg is clutched. The fear from before returns to me like the shots I have so cautiously tried to avoid, the creature which held me knocking me over and dragging me to the now horrifying display of incorrectly used bedspreads. Darkness finds me, my heartbeat slamming over my chest with the power of the gun I loosely dragged with me. As my body finally halts, taking my bearings, like a cornered animal, I begin to shoot wildly.

Foam hitting cloth bangs the pitch black room, the sound of life grunting and ducking the only other element attracting my senses. Soon the ammunition halts, the clicking of an empty magazine the only thing my weapons shoots.

My heavy panting fills the silence, soon the sound of a match lighting and the bright flame it produces return my sight. My distressed eyes look across, seeing the multicolored walls decorated crudely with the bright orange bullets I dispensed. I continue to dart, looking for who my captors may be, seeing two uncannily familiar faces looking back. Both sharing the look of blood curdling adrenaline as I, Louie and Huey stare down at my prone body.

“HUEY! LOUIE!” I bolt back, clutching them between my aching arms. The little strength afforded to me wasted as I revel in the long lost warmth of my brothers. “I thought you two for gonners after what happened at the kitchen!”

“Almost but,” Huey begins, stopping as he drags his candle closer to my sullied face, “-it seems we all survived.” A well deserved smile stretches over him.

I part from my re-discovered family, “Where are we?”`

“Cushion Island.” Louie, a tang of grizzled seriousness, answers. “After she separated us, I started reconstructing it as a safe haven, taking a new design philosophy into consideration. We’ve been hiding out in here for a while, amassing enough resources to be able to fight back. Looking for you as well.” The kid shares a knowing glare with his eldest twin.

“I’m just happy Webb-” I attempt to, in my newly found excitement, say before finding a hand forcefully placed over my beak. Looking over to where the arm originates, I see Louie, still not dropping the solemn urgency in his gaze, tilting towards me.

“Don’t say her name.” He whispers, “She’ll know.” His hand slowly begins to part.

“What do I call her then?” Seeing the consequentiality of the room rise, I emulate their murmur.

Huey lowers the wax candle to the middle of the circle we had created throughout the conversation, “We’ve been calling her Worerdurk.”

“Ok then,” I allow the new information to season, “I’m just happy Worerdurk hasn’t, y’know, gotten to any of us.” My voice heightens as it attempts to avoid the severity of the situation. “It’s almost been a full day, she must be getting frustrated by now.”

“I don’t think so.” My hoodie wearing brother’s clarification almost overlaps my prediction, “Our sister isn’t that weak willed, she’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“Like a predator to their prey.” Huey finishes, his eyes dilating as he recollects. Both keep silent after, allowing me to think the situation over. What they have seen I can only imagine…

Their silence is not well utilized as before I could get a response out, the thin walls ripple and shake. The sound of distanced footsteps reaching us. Our eyes bolt open, their pupils staring at each other as we prepare for action.

“She’s here.” My silver tongued sibling addresses Hubert.

“I’ll get the weapons.” The cap wearing and increasingly calm Huey bolts deeper into the tunnel of blankets.

I turn to worry, keeping vigilant for any type of indicator of danger. This paranoia leading me to notice Louie a bit less jumpy, uncharacteristically so. His sitting body hunched over a picture.

I crawl over, raising my neck over his as I attempt to view the celluloid. Though harder to see in the miniscule candle light, the object identifies itself as a picture of us, dressed in humorously designed attire. The photo is far from methodically composed, streaks of blurred action carved to it as I rebelled against my sweater. I chuckle at the recent memory.

“Where’d you find that picture Lou, I thought Uncle Donald threw all those out.” I inquire.

“We found it while trying to smuggle guns from Worerdurk’s room, she had it framed.” He remains stoic, halting his answer as his drowsy eyes continue to stare over the picture a bit longer. “She takes this game so seriously, you think she can be talked out of it?”

“I don’t know.” My answer reins honest.

… A moment of shaky stillness follows my response, interrupted by the sudden movement of my triplet’s hand as he crumbles and hides the picture, turning to me swiftly after.

“Does your gun have any darts left?” Louie looks to me.

“No, I’m tapped.”

The answer brings out an annoyed grunt from the analytical adventurer. “It’s worthless to try to escape without guns. We’ll just hope Huey is faster than Webbs.”

“I thought we couldn’t say her name.” A second of my jittery concern asks.

He remains silent as the correction reaches his ears. Thought overtakes him, the footsteps getting louder and faster, its banging only matching the intensity of my beating heart. It raises further, and further, and further. The sound of incoming danger scratching over me, the thinning quiet only adding to the stabbing dread. My fingers clench into themselves, my spine straightens, my brow furrowing in shaky anticipation. The slamming steps boom, one after the other. I shift the anxious glare I wore across the room, my head nagging for an escape, eventually finding solace in my brother. Who, against any type of common sense or logic, wore a smirk, a begrudged smile. Why?

A figure darts to our corner of Cushion Island. I toss my body back as I analyze if the silhouette was friend or foe. Luckily, the candle light reveals the identifiable outfit of Huey Duck. Louie’s smile fades.

“This is all I could find, she's right on my tail.” Alarm laces his words. Quickly dropping a collection of plastic pistols, rifles, and ammunition over the cushioned floor, Huey begins to haul various items towards himself. Footsteps approach. As I stare over my brothers, their faces contorting and biting in determined vigor, two pistols are thrown over my lap. “Those are yours.”

“Thanks..” I take both weapons, along with their accompanied darts. The weight pulls my arms to the ground before leveling them. Scanning the pistols I am able to assess their strength, weapons worthy of battle. Additionally, I notice their dramatically fitting color scheme, the right sporting vibrant red and green while the left a light blue and pink.

The sound of a long rifle clicking sounds from Huey, who while fiddling with his weapon asks, “You taking anything, Louie?”

The green adorned duck exhales heavily, “Don’t think so.”

The question’s originator sighs, standing as the answer delivers.

“That’s stupid, how are you gonna protect yourself without a gun?” I ask, the oddity of the response forcing me to question. “Are you not that good of a shot?”

My brother restores the smirk from before, the incoming attacker’s noise scratching over us, yet he walked closer to it.

Huey pulls my shoulder, raising and dragging me to Louie’s opposing direction. “He’s a great shot, actually.”

“We need to wait for Louie.” I attempt to reason, my feet slipping behind my older brother, my sight distancing from my younger.

“He’ll draw us some time.”

“What?! No!” The situation’s condition punctures. The anger of it giving me the strength to break from Huey’s grip, the force shooting me closer to Louie, my feet continuing the travel. Not soon after the arms I escape stretch and lock over my abdomen, my sprint halted as I am once again pulled away.

“Dewey, it’s alright.” I stop my resistance as Louie speaks. “Just doing my part of a deal.” His words spewed with such confidence yet they only read to me like self-righteous nonsense. “You’ll win anyways, it’s not that big a deal.”

Just as he finishes, the blanket walls that separated the room Louie stood over begins to ripple and open, a figure walking in as the footsteps halt. I don’t get to see the menace as Huey, with one final tug, emerges out from Cushion Island with me in hand. I separate as we bounce over the wooden flooring of the relatively better lit mansion hallway.

“We need to run, you got your weapon?” Huey asks, slowly returning to his feet.

I struggle to find any will to return to my feet, the burning anger and sorrow encompassing all my energy.

“Dewey!”

My trance is broken, the sorrow suppressed as anger refuels me. I bolt to my feet, clutching the dual pistols in my unstable hands. I take a deep breath, the first intake of air I’ve dared take in the last minute. “Let’s go.”

The two of us race back the way I came, almost immediately after, the horrid sound of Webby’s guns firing echoes from the now desolate Cushion Island. My feet stumble, my teeth grinding onto each other in sizzling rage. I shake my head, holding my tongue as I return to a full sprint.

“Stop!” Huey drags his feet. “Look.” He points to the remaining stretch of the hallway.

I step besides him, looking forward to the sight of an almost invisible piece of string stretch taught along the two walls.

“Let’s just step over it.” I suggest.

“Look closer.”

I return to analyzing the continuing path, noticing what my brother refers to. The same piece of twine repeated across the rest of the house.

“How did she even find the time to do this?” My shocked and agape mouth sounds off.

An eerily familiar family of footsteps fastly approaches. “Dewey! Huey! I know you’re there!” An arrogant and maniacal Webbigail boasts, her shadow stretching and distorting as it begins to turn towards us.

“Quickly! The lights!” Huey orders.

The instructions delay trying to reach my understanding but I eventually look over to the chandelier hanging near the alleyway’s middle. My arms raise, haphazardly aiming before laying two bullets in its direction. The second stray shot crashing across its top, knocking it out of balance and out of frame. The set piece falls harshly across the wood, the bulbs it hung shattering onto the walls and ground. Blinding all nearby with its lack of light.

“Come on! Over here.” I hear a voice call to me from my left, the still readable figure of Huey Duck hiding behind one of the drawers the house had a plentiful variety of. I throw myself, ducking alongside him.

“We need a plan.” I begin, my whisper falling to the increasing vibrations of the approaching Worerdurk.

“Yeah…” Huey dives into thought. Mumbling as he thinks of what to do.

My patience pounds across my head, my hand readjusting in fidgety anticipation. My neck turns as I wait for my smarter half to adjust to the situation, looking off to the hallway, searching for danger in the ink black darkness. As I scan the environment, two green dots stare back at me. My heart rips from my chest before I return to hiding.

“She has her night vision goggles, hurry up!” I don’t attempt to hide my desperation in the whisper.

“Don’t rush me!” he retorts, quickly slamming his feathered palms over his beak as the screech echoes, alerting any still breathing creature in the house. “Dammit… I got a plan.”

“Tell me! Quickly!” I disobey his previous scowl.

“You only have one chance Dewey,” A pair of hands fall over my shoulders, “-take our sister down.” The hands squeeze before my body is hurled where Huey once was, the sound of his body scurrying past me blasting. I look over, the silhouette of my hat wearing brother dashes into the hallway.

Gunfire instantly commences, the streaks of wind the darts produce flying over me. My body curls, the intensity of the moment shooting between my bones, the fear washing and twisting every miniscule detail of my body; forfeiting control of my valor.

“No!” I yell to myself. Too much has been sacrificed, Louie tried to reason with her, Huey survived for my sake and now he’s fighting alone because he put his trust in me. “I CAN’T GIVE UP NOW!”

I raise my body over the drawer, placing my arms across as I wildly shoot forwards. The pistols alternate shots, my left hand firing first, the red and green, the gun brave enough to attack first. The beaming green dots of my sister’s goggles shift to me before darting towards my brother, who’s weapon shoots aimlessly at her.

My guns don’t let up, my shut eyes doing little to help the cause. My fingers press and release in unison, the foam ammunition bouncing from all surfaces it can find, my continuous onslaught only hesitating when a loud grunt strikes me.

“I’m out!” Huey screams, grunted pain in his begrudged announcement.

My soul sinks. I lower my body behind cover once more, my right hand finishing to press the trigger, it clicking, empty. I look down to it, tossing it aside as a million different thoughts flash my mind. I stare the hardly visible blue and pink dart gun down, the last remaining, one final shot. I exhale before tossing my body back over the wooden shelf, taking both of my overfilled hands to aim. Between the eyes, the two glowing beams that glared me over. The whirring of a gun ready to begin shooting sounds from my target, the artillery she carried ready to riddle my body in plastic.

“Dear o’ sibling of mine…” I whisper, the previously suppressed sorrow stationing in my right index finger which sadly levers.

My final dart shoots ahead, dashing between the wind which pulled against it, vanishing to the darkness upon release.

“Ow!” A high pitched Webby screams. A palpable anticipation takes hold of all in the audience. A wait of the outcome, of the winner's disclosure. “Aw man! You got me!”

The reveal deafens my ears, my already limited view doubling, my head dizzying.

“YOU DID IT DEWEY! YOU WON!” A secondary voice congratulates.

The room begins to spin, my body’s excess of adrenaline leaving my body sluggish upon its departure. Consciousness begins to leave me, my body dropping as quickly as my increasingly heavy eyelids. Before I fall, however, I scream out, raising my left hand, the blue and pink pistol still loosely attached to it, “Heck yeah I did!”

My brain shuts down.

Dewey eventually woke up, where he, along with his brothers and sister, was forced to clean up the mess their little Nerf war had caused. Despite that particular drawback, Dewey still proves proud of his cooperative victory over the once thought unbeatable Webbigail. The perfect end for a particularly perfect week.

Thank you all so much for reading through this rather long week finale, if you have yet to read the rest of the week’s submissions, all are posted on this AO3 link

#ducktales #HDLW #Dewey Duck #Huey Duck #Louie Duck #Webby Vanderquack #hdlw sibling week 2020

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delightfully-difficult-pirate · 5 years

Text

CS JJ Day 27: My True Love Gave to Me (1/1)

A/N: This began life as a Secret Santa gift, but I had to abandon it halfway through when my first giftee went AWOL and it didn’t fit the desires of my new giftee. However, I really enjoyed this story and decided to finish it as my entry for this year’s @csjanuaryjoy! Thank you so much, mods, for organizing this event and facilitating all the joy! This a small, Christmas-time, neighbors AU and I hope you enjoy!

AO3

~*~

Emma Swan knew that she tended to be a bit of a Grinch during the holiday season. She’d spent too many Christmases watching happy families celebrating while whatever foster family she was with barely acknowledged her existence with gifts of second-hand clothes to develop the warm, fuzzy feelings people associated with the season. Not all of the families were like that, of course, but few had bothered to put real effort into presents. Only Ingrid, the woman who had tried desperately to adopt Emma but was denied by the state, had ever given her gifts that really meant anything when she was young.

She spent Christmas with her chosen family of friends now and had received a plethora of thoughtful gifts, but she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to really care about the holiday.

Given her general disregard for winter festivities, it was quite a shock to come home one day and find that her apartment, in which she lived alone, looked like the Christmas aisle of a department store had exploded inside of it.

Soft blue lights twinkled in her windows and garland hung from almost every available shelf or ledge. The side table by her front door now sported a festive red and green quilted runner and a reindeer shaped dish held the miscellaneous change and spare key that usually were strewn haphazardly on the table’s surface. With a sigh, she dropped her keyring with the others.

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Emma proceeded into her home. A tree, an honest to god real tree, now dominated one corner of her living room. Gold tinsel and bright, colorful lights wrapped around it and simple round ornaments of red and silver hung from the branches. Her heart dropped, just a little, when she saw that there were no gifts piled underneath.

There was, however, a nutcracker sitting on her coffee table, and a small cat asleep on the back of her couch.

“Killian, you asshole,” Emma growled. The cat’s presence revealed the identity of the orchestrator behind the home makeover.

Now awake, the cat, a lovely calico named Tinkerbelle, stood, stretched, and jumped off the couch to rub herself against Emma’s ankles.

“Tink, did you help your owner with this… this… travesty?”

The cat just stretched and rubbed herself against Emma’s pant legs. With a chuckle, Emma lifted the interloper and settled her against her chest. That elicited a loud purr and a head-butt against her chin.

Tinkerbelle belonged to Emma’s upstairs neighbor and friend, Killian Jones. The day he’d moved into the third floor, Tink had shown her displeasure at the move and escaped. Emma, just home from grocery shopping, heard a very irate “Bloody hell!” echo down the stairwell before a small ball of fur ran right into the bags she had set down on the landing in order to unlock her apartment door. After a quick scramble and a few scratches, Emma had extracted Tinkerbelle from the bags just as a sweaty man came bounding down the stairs after her.

Emma held out the hissing cat as she asked, “does this belong to you?”

“Aye, that she does.” With a sigh, he had taken the pissed off cat and held her firmly against himself with one arm. The other he held out as he introduced himself as Killian Jones, her new neighbor.

“Emma Swan.” She shook his offered hand.

She’d stared in shock as he lifted her hand and placed a quick kiss on the knuckles.

“You have my thanks, Emma, for your assistance. May I offer you an IOU for a drink, for some time in the future after I have unpacked?”

Emma blinked before finally replying, “That isn’t necessary.”

“Maybe not, but the offer is open. I will let you know when my apartment is fit for company.” With that, Killian had made his way back up the stairs and Emma had to scold herself for admiring the way his jeans hugged his backside. The man had just moved in; she shouldn’t be ogling him like a teenager. Even if his accent sent shivers down her back.

Eventually she’d taken Killian up on his offer of a drink. That had led to more drinks, casual dinners, and nearly three years later, Emma considered him one of her closest friends. He was the one that had her spare key and watched over her apartment when her work as a bail bondsman took her out of town. A trust she was now rethinking since he’d apparently used the privilege to infest her apartment with holiday cheer.

Emma cuddled Tink as she wandered her apartment. The kitchen wasn’t too bad; a few towels decorated with snowflakes and a snowman shaped cookie jar were the only new additions she could see. The guest bathroom, however, nearly burnt her eyes with how much red and green was packed into the small space. There was a new Santa toilet cover with a matching bathmat. The hand towels looked like the bottom halves of elves and her simple soap dispenser had been replaced with a Christmas tree one.

Blessedly, her bedroom and attached bathroom had been spared the Christmas invasion. Killian obviously knew better than to mess with her private space.

Tinkerbelle jumping from her arms and Emma heard the squeak of her front door’s hinges. The culprit returning to the scene of the crime, she thought, as she heard Killian chuckle when Tink greeted him with a meow that seem far too loud to have come from the cat.

“I know, it’s time for dinner,” she heard Killian matter-of-factly tell Tink. “I just need to add the finishing touch to the tree.”

Realizing Killian didn’t know she was home, Emma toed off her shoes and softly walked to spy out the bedroom door. Wanting to remain hidden, she used the reflection in her TV to watch Killian. He had a simple box, which he laid on her coffee table. Whatever item he pulled out was too blurry to make out clearly, but she surmised it was some time of tree topper as he stretched to reach the top of the tree. She risked a real look as he fiddled around behind the tree a bit and saw that it was a gold star. She swiftly ducked back into her room when it illuminated, Killian having finished plugging it in.

“There,” she listened to him say. Tink meowed in reply.

“Alright, fine. Let’s get you some food.” With that, Killian collected the empty box, scooped up his cat, and left her apartment, locking the door behind him.

Once he was gone, Emma stood in her living room and gazed at the tree. It was, she realized, the first Christmas tree she’d ever had. That thought immediately brought tears to Emma’s eyes, which she roughly wiped away. She didn’t need a tree; especially not one that was going to shed pine needles all over her floor for the next few weeks.

Later that night, when Emma went to turn off the lights before heading to bed, she couldn’t help but admire how lovely it looked in the dark room. As she lay in bed, she sent a text to Killian.

Thank you.

~*~

Three days later, Emma noticed that the Christmas tree in her living room had gained some ornaments. Where before there had only been classic glass bulbs, there were now wooden figures nestled amongst the branches. All of them were birds of some type, which Emma found odd.

Three looked like chickens. Four were small, dark birds. Two were obviously doves and the last was an odd looking bird with stripes on its wings that had a pear dangling by the stem from its mouth.

Emma held the pear-holding bird that she had found near the top of the tree in her hand. Something about the bird felt familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t until she was placing it back in the tree that the answer hit her like a ton of bricks.

It was a partridge. Holding a pear…

A partridge in a pear tree… well, a pine tree, but the connection was there.

Two turtle doves. Three French hens.

And a quick google told her that the fourth gift in the 12 Days of Christmas song was either “calling” or “colly” birds, deepening on the version, and that colly was believed to refer to blackbirds, which were dark like “col”, the Old English word for coal.

Leave it to Killian, an English Literature professor, to give her a gift that involved Old English.

Pulling her phone out, Emma autodialed Killian’s number.

“Evening, love,” he answered.

“If you keep breaking into my apartment, I’m going to make sure that Santa leaves only col in your stocking.” She put extra emphasis on the word col.

She could hear him laughing in the apartment above her.

~*~

As expected, Killian did not stop adding more decorations to the Christmas tree. The next day brought five gold painted rings, followed by six geese with eggs.

On the seventh day, Emma found more than just seven wooden swans a-swimming on her tree after returning home. A new picture frame adorned her wall, containing a collage of pictures of Emma herself swimming. Or at least interacting with water. She didn’t think that sitting on the side of the pool with only her feet in the water really counted as swimming. Most were from that summer, when Killian had been her plus-one at a friend’s wedding in Cape Cod.

In one, which she couldn’t remember seeing before, she was “manning the helm” of a sail boat with Killian standing behind her, his hands on hers. Killian had insisted on renting a small sailboat while they were out of the city so that he could show her the joy of sailing. Emma smiled as she remembered how he’d gently guided her movements and ensured she didn’t kill everyone on board.

Well, he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for any possible dangers, but in this specific photo, Killian wasn’t looking at the waters around them. Instead, his attention seemed to be solely on herself. He was smiling, but it was… different. It seemed softer, somehow. In fact, his entire expression reminded her of the ones she usually saw on the face of her best friend’s husband, David, when he was in awe by how much he loved the woman before him.

Emma stepped away from the picture, her heart pounding. She had to be reading too much into a simple facial expression. There was no way Killian was in love with her. He would have told her if he was. Probably with a poem.

Or by breaking into her apartment and recreating an old Christmas carol.

“On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me…” Emma sang softly to herself.

Before she could stop herself, Emma ran upstairs to Killian’s apartment. It was only when Killian open the door in response to her insistent knock that she realized she had no idea what she was going to do. So she did the first thing that came to mind, which was to grab fistfuls of his shirt, drag him toward her, and hope the kiss she gave him conveyed what she couldn’t put into words.

He responded instantly. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him. She followed when he began to slowly step back into his apartment, only to find herself pressed against the door moments after it was closed. Emma couldn’t help running her hands through Killian’s impossibly soft hair as the kiss deepened.

It was Killian who managed to regain control of himself first, pulling away from the kiss and resting his head against hers.

“Emma… I…” he began.

Emma smiled. “I know.”

#Captain Swan #captain swan january joy #OUaT #CS Fan fic #CS Fic #Lee writes

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twinklepixels · 4 years

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Hi Nicole, hope all is well. I just wondered how did you get the pictures of your sims in the frames and such like that. I have frames but I don't know how to get my sims pictures I have taken of them in there?

Hi there! ❤

Sure, I made a little tutorial for ya! (Sorry it’s a bit long, I tried to explain with text and pictures!)

What you will need:

Photo editing software (GIMP or Photoshop, I use photoshop but GIMP is free!)

Sims4 Studio

Screenshots that you will like to put in the frame

In game or custom frame, I make use of both but the custom ones I make use of the most are: Kinlet & Milford

How to Create custom photo frames:

1.) If you are using a custom frame, I like to place the package file on my desktop so it’s there for easy access, but if you are using an in game frame, you can use Sim4 Studio to get the package file to edit, how you do that is:

Open Sims4Studio and select Standalone Recolor under objects. It will then take you to the in game objects and look through to find the frame you would like, it will then ask you to name your recolor and then save to your desktop.

If you are using a custom frame and have the package file on your desktop, select my projects and select the the package file on your desktop. Pretty easy right?

2.) Now that you have the package file open, it should look something like this:

See the Texture option? Select that and it will bring you here:

That’s the texture of the frame and what you will use to add your pictures into, see the export option? Select that and save the texture to your desktop, I usually name it “Text1″ or “Text2″ depending on which color swatch I use, I go by numbers. So now that you have it saved on your desktop, open your photo editing software and open the texture you had saved in the editing software, like I said I use photoshop.

Now you have the texture opened in your editing software, go ahead and use the square/rectangle lasso tool, to cut out the pictures on your texture and it will look like this:

Make your selection with the lasso tool and hit delete, I like to zoom in a bit to make sure I only select the pictures and nothing else of the frame texture. It can be a pain at first depending on the frame, but you’ll get it! Now that you deleted those pictures, right clock on the selection box and select deselect. (This just takes the selection box away)

Now select your move tool which helps move pictures around, now remember how I said to have your screenshots ready? So what I do is I keep them on my desktop and drag them on the frame like this:

Now here comes the fun part, so first I hide the picture in the layer section (bottom right) which I wont be using first, I do that by selecting the eyeball next to the layer. Oh and before I forget, move the pictures in the layer section the below the texture image. Like this:

Ok here is the fun part, you get to move the picture into one of the frame slots we created by deleting the old picture from the frame, so I hit the keys Ctrl + T in photoshop to now make my picturing bigger/smaller, so here is what it looks like after I messed with it a bit to get it in the frame the way I want it:

There we go, then go ahead and delete the clipping into the other frame with the lasso tool, now all you have to do is repeat the steps from the first image for the second image, make sure you make the image visible in the layers section so you can see what you are working with and should look like this:

Now that your frame looks the way you want it to, save this as a .png on your desktop, name it whatever you like and open Sims 4 studio again (Hopefully you minimized the program, but if you didn’t no need to worry, just open it up again and select my projects and find the package file on your desktop.)

Your package file is now open and select texture again, and either create a new swatch or overwrite the same swatch, after that select import and open up your final texture with your pictures in that you saved and should look like this:

And then all you need to do is hit save, and there you go. Once that is done, just place the package file back in your mods folder after adding as many swatches as you like. :) (Remember to save before you close Sims4Studio before you move the package file to your mods folder.)

Hopefully this was easy to follow, if not send me a message if you get stuck, I’ll help ya out!

Have a great day nonny! ❤

#tutorial #tutorials #Anonymous

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maandags · 6 years

Text

Good for the Soul (Keith x reader)

HAPPY (LATE OOPS) BIRTHDAY MY DEAR FRIEND @panda-noosh I LOVE YOU A LOT

This is a birthday gift for a lovely and very very talented friend of mine, I hope you enjoy it love <3 (also this was supposed to be SHORT ack)

~Mod Water

Word count: 5.6 K

Genre: fluff/angst

Notes: masterlist - roommate au - broganes for the win - i promise i’ll get to the requests now asap i’ll abandon my uploading schedule to update as often as possible ack

---

You grunted under the combined weight of your backpack and your big suitcase, slightly out of breath after climbing three sets of stairs, logging them along. You squinted at the crumpled piece of paper in your hand, on which you had scribbled the building name, and your floor and room number. Room 2.14, second floor.

You started pulling your suitcase along the hallway, occasionally smiling at your fellow students who were holding pieces of paper similar to yours, some looking like they knew exactly where they needed to go, others looking like they were completely and utterly lost. You had thought that the dorms would be way more crowded, but it was the middle of the afternoon and a lot of the students would be spending their time outside. It was a warm, sunny day, and they would be making the most of it before classes started. You squeezed past a group of boys and girls idly chatting in a doorway, glancing to your right occasionally to check on the door numbers.

2.8, 2.10, 2.12... at last, you stopped before the door that bore a big 2.14 in golden numbers. You scanned your note again, just to make sure that you weren't about to barge into the wrong room. No, this was it, you were sure of it. You adjusted your grip on the handle of your suitcase and turned the doorknob.

You didn't know what you had been expecting. This was the Galaxy Garrison, after all. The most prestigious university in the country. However, that didn't mean that the dorms were overly luxurious. There were two bedrooms, one for you and one for your roommate, a small living room containing a sofa, a couple of chairs and a television, and a bathroom that you would share.

Were you nervous about meeting your roommate? Definitely, at least a little bit. You had spent half of the five-hour-long train ride from your home to the Garrison imagining what they would be like, the conversations in your head ranging from worst-case scenario (a creepy, unpleasant dude-bro type) to best-case scenario (a very adorable, nice, caring sweetie of a roomie). You were prepared for almost everything. Almost everything.

"Keith, get off your ass and go outside before I drag you there."

"Fuck off."

You stood in the living room, slightly disoriented and confused over the bickering that seemed to be taking place in one of the bedrooms. You assumed one of the voices must belong to your roommate. Cautiously, you tiptoed to where the voices were coming from, leaving your suitcase standing in front of the couch.

"You can't run from people and socialising forever, you know." This voice was deeper, sounded amused. You took another step towards the voices.

"Watch me." The other voice was a little higher, slightly hoarse, but still definitely a guy's voice. He sounded tired, voice slightly muffled as if he was lying face-down on a pillow. "Let me sleep, Shiro." You were going off a wild guess that the last voice belonged to your roommate.

You rounded a corner and stopped short. Your path was suddenly blocked by a very tall man. As you craned your neck to look him up and down, you felt smaller and smaller. He towered at least a solid foot over you, and his stocky build and broad shoulders didn't help. He stood with his back to you, leaning against the doorframe. He wore a white shirt and jeans, and his dark hair was cut short. You tried to look over his shoulder, standing on your tippy toes, and just managed to make out a vaguely human-sized shape curled up on the bed.

"Should have gotten enough sleep yesterday. You knew you'd have to get up early to catch your train," the tall guy chided. You thought of a father reprimanding his kid, and you had to bite back a snicker. The other had called him something, what was it again? Shane? Chad?

"Fuck off, Shiro," came the muffled voice, though it sounded more like a whine than anything else. Ah, you thought, Shiro. That had been it. Over Shiro's shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the other guy curling even more into himself, as if trying to become so small that Shiro would forget he was there. It didn't work.

"Keith," Shiro tried again, a slightly exasperated tone to his voice. So that was his name. "Come on. It's nice outside! You'd get to meet new people, and I'm sure Matt would love to see you."

"Just ten more minutes."

"You said that half an hour ago, dipshit."

This went on for a while, Shiro never seeming to give up on getting Keith up and outside, while Keith showed a remarkable amount of spine and flat-out refused to move from his perch on his bed. A few times you actually thought he'd dozed off, until Shiro snapped his fingers and brought him back to the world of the living. You leant against the wall behind you, arms crossed and a grin playing on your lips, grateful for Shiro's big frame shielding your small one. The two boys were so focused on each other that they hadn't even noticed you.

Finally, Shiro said, "What will your roommate think if they find you like this?" You pushed off the wall. This was the perfect moment to reveal that, hey, said roommate had been standing right here all along! You racked your brain for a funny one-liner that was bound to make a good impression, when you heard Keith's reply.

"Look at all the fucks I give."

And you snorted. Shiro whirled around, eyes alarmed, when his gaze fell on you and his expression morphed into one of surprise and confusion. You cleared your throat and raised a hand. "Hi. I'm–I'm the roommate."

Shiro's eyebrows shot up. A surprised "Oh!" left his lips, but then he seemed to catch himself and he extended his hand, an easy smile on his face. "Nice to meet you. I'm Takashi Shirogane."

You took his hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. "Y/N L/N," you answered, trying to muffle your grin. Shiro glanced over his shoulder, suddenly looking a little embarrassed.

"How–how long have you been standing there?"

You chuckled, following Shiro's gaze to the tangle of blankets and human limbs that was Keith. "Long enough." You ignored Shiro's slight flinch of embarrassment. "Hi," you shouted over his shoulder. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you." A hand rose up from the blankets and gave you a tired wave before flopping back down. Oh well, you thought, you'd have it.

"Don't mind him," Shiro said as you went back to the living room to retrieve your suitcase. This was the fourth time he had apologised for Keith's behaviour in the past ten minutes, despite you insisting that it was really no problem. You wheeled your case to the room that had to be yours and heaved it onto the bed with a grunt, then turned towards the door where Shiro was still standing and planted a hand on your hip.

"I'll make sure he sees some fresh air before tonight, all right?" You gave him a tired smile. You had just travelled five hours by train and frankly craved some peace and quiet. The subtle hint didn't go unnoticed by Shiro, who finally exited your room after telling you that you could always knock on his door if you had a problem. You said you sure would, even though you didn't have a clue where his room was, and gently but firmly ushered him out the door. You closed it with a sigh and checked your watch. It was half past four. Dinner would be served at seven, and you were determined to spend at least some time outside, getting to know the school grounds. You turned back to your still-bare room and started unpacking your stuff.

About an hour later, your room looked less barren and actually like a place you could see yourself spend your time, studying or otherwise. You had stuck up some photos of your family and close friends on the wall above your bed, had arranged your clothes in your closet, placed your books on the shelf you'd been delighted to find there. Once it was empty, you shoved your suitcase underneath your bed and looked around your room, feeling quite satisfied with yourself. It looked kind of cosy. You made a mental note to invest in fairy lights as soon as you could. You had them at home, hanging around your window. You'd had them ever since you were a little kid. This place wouldn't feel like home without them.

It was close to six o'clock, and the sun started to descend along the sky. You grabbed your key from your nightstand and closed the door to your room behind you. As you passed Keith's room, you shot a glance inside and stopped short.

You planted a hand on your hip. "Well, look who's alive. Come to join the land of the living?"

The boy sitting on the edge of his bed had the decency to look at least mildly embarrassed. He had cleaned up his room, you saw: it wasn't nearly as much of a mess as it had been earlier this afternoon. He had straightened the sheets on his bed and was now tying his shoes. He looked up and shot you a somewhat awkward smile.

"Yeah. Sorry about this afternoon." He stood up and walked towards you, extending a hand, though a little stiffly. You shook it, examining his face for the first time. A pale, pointy face, a sharp jawline. He was also quite a bit taller than you, though not as much as Shiro. Black tufts of hair fell in front of his dark eyes. You couldn't quite make out their colour.

"I'm Y/N," you said, just for the sake of a proper introduction. Keith smiled.

"Keith Kogane."

---

Keith burst through the door into the living room, where you had plopped yourself on the sofa with your laptop resting on your knees. You calmly paused the film you were watching and took off your headphones. "'Sup?"

Keith threw himself onto the sofa next to you and closed his eyes, hood pulled up and shadowing his face. His jaw was tense and he bounced his knee in the way he did when he was upset or worked up. You frowned, setting aside your laptop and shifting closer to your friend. "Hey, what's wrong?"

It had been six months since you had first met Keith and started living with him. The first days had been slightly awkward, but you had soon grown used to each other. Now, you couldn't quite recall what it was like before the two of you had been living together. You and Keith had grown very close over that time. You were bound to; you lived together, after all. You had become attached to each other. You couldn't remember the last time you had a friend you trusted like you trusted Keith. The last time you had a friend that you cared about like you cared about Keith.

Which meant that you noticed exactly when something was bothering him. Like right now, something was bothering him.

"Keith," you pressed, nudging his arm. Keith wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them up to his torso and resting his chin on his knees. His eyes were stormy, a dark grey. It was a startling difference from his usual violet. His dark eyebrows were knotted together, his black hair only shadowing his eyes further. People would call Keith scary when he was like this. Furious. To you, he just looked sad.

"What happened?" Keith shot you a sideways glance, burying his face in his arms.

"I got an official warning. From Iverson," he finally mumbled. You frowned, shaking your head slightly. "I'm on probation. A month." Your heart seemed to skip a beat.

"What? Why?" Keith turned away from you, but you grabbed his arm and forced him to look at you. You instantly noticed something was wrong. The living room was dark, and Keith's hood shielded his face to a certain extent, but his left eye seemed narrower than his right one, and something wet shone on his upper lip. With trembling hands, you lowered his hood.

"Fuck, Keith, what the fuck!" you nearly shouted in horror. You fumbled for the light switch, ignoring the way Keith seemed to shrink away from the sharp light. "Oh, no." In the light, you could see his face even better. In this case, that wasn't such a good thing.

Keith's left eye was swollen and black, and a huge purple bruise blossomed over his left cheek and below that, a similarly-sized bruise on his jaw. His nose didn't seem too badly hurt, but it was swollen and purple and it did bleed, and droplets of blood trickled over his lip onto his hoodie. A nasty cut bled angrily over his right eyebrow.

"Let me see your hands," you demanded shakily. Keith offered them to you without a word. The knuckles of both hands were bloody and bruised. You scrambled up, dashing to the cupboard to grab the first-aid kit and forced Keith to look at you and take his hoodie off. You popped it open and took out the disinfectant, spreading it on some cotton and gently dabbing it on Keith's cuts. He flinched and hissed when the stingy product came into contact with the open wounds, but he didn't move. He closed his eyes and simply allowed you to patch him up. It was a slow process, and you weren't very skilled, which became only more clear when your hands wouldn't stop shaking with worry.

"Sorry," you muttered as Keith sucked in a breath through clenched teeth when you rubbed a soothing salve on his bruises just a little too harshly than necessary.

"'S okay," he said softly. You finished tending to his beat-up face as gently as you could, and sat back with a sigh when you were done.

"What the hell, Keith," you asked weakly. You had tried to hide how you felt when you looked at him when he looked like he just got run over by a car. But his bruised and bloody knuckles had been enough confirmation for you: he'd gotten into a fight. A pretty bad one too, from the looks of it. Keith knew you as well as you knew him: there was no point in hiding how shaken up you were. "Why?"

Keith looked away, eyes a little dazed, pulling his knees up to his chest again. "Nothing. It's not important, anyway."

You fought the urge to hit him. "What do you mean, it's not important?" Keith opened his mouth to reply, but you held up a hand to silence him. "You fought. You got caught, and now you're on probation, and you tell me it's not important? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Keith lifted his head and cast you an almost hurt look. "No, of course not, Y/N."

You took a deep breath. "Who did this to you?" You kept your glare fixed on your laptop, the paused screen long since turned to black. Anything not to look Keith in the eye. Your heart had lurched almost painfully at his hurt expression.

"Some sophomore assholes. They–they got on my nerves. I snapped." Keith fiddled with the hem of his shirt, the way he did when he was embarrassed or nervous. You hated that you knew that. You hated the way your heart beat faster at the sound of his hoarse voice, the edge from earlier gone. Now his voice sounded merely tired.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your hand. "What did they say?"

For a while, no sound except your breathing split the silence. Then Keith grunted as he tried to stand up. You were by his side in seconds, helping him lean on you when he needed to. You pursed your lips as you led him to his room, where you gently lowered him onto his bed. He was still fully clothed, but he didn't seem to mind. He closed his eyes, tried to even his breathing. You stood in the doorway for only a short while as you watched him, before turning to your own room, your mind a hurricane of thoughts.

What had the guys said to Keith to make him snap? You knew of Keith's history as his high school's troublemaker, but he'd assured you that he didn't want to fight any more. And it had really seemed that way. For a while, at least. Until tonight. You had seen him dangerously close to throwing a punch, when he'd clench and unclench his fists, trying to regain control of his emotions. You had learned a way to calm him down, and things had gone well.

Until tonight.

The fact that Keith hadn't wanted to tell you what the fight had been about bothered you. You and Keith told each other close to everything. For crying out loud, he was on probation. If he stepped out of line again, he would be suspended, maybe even expelled. The thought made you sick. The thought of not having Keith around anymore made you sick.

You rolled over, clutching your comforter and staring at the fairy lights you'd strung up around the window. You'd have to text Shiro tomorrow morning, in case Keith needed help showering. You thought he might have a couple bruised ribs. With those happy thoughts on your mind, you finally drifted off to sleep.

Turned out that you were right. You had called Shiro first thing the next morning, after seeing that every movement seemed to cause Keith pain. Shiro swore and assured you that he would be right there, and the two of them had helped Keith limp to the infirmary.

Now you both sat in the waiting room at the hospital wing, Shiro bouncing his knee restlessly and glaring out of the window with his arms crossed. You quietly observed him, slightly impressed by the intensity of his scowl. He looked like he was wishing a slow and painful death on each and every pigeon that dared fly across the window. You felt the need to speak up. You did, even though it caused you to cringe because of how loud and out of place your voice sounded in the empty waiting room.

"He's gonna be fine, you know."

Shiro cast you a sideways glance and heaved a sigh. All the tension seemed to disappear from his shoulders, and suddenly he just looked weary. "I know. It's just..."

He bit his lip, fiddling idly with the hem of his shirt. "In high school, Keith was known as the brawler. The guy who couldn't back away from a fight. He promised that he was going to change that at the Garrison."

"But he did," you said cautiously. You had heard this story already. You wondered why Shiro was telling it to you again. He shot you a tired look.

"Yeah, he did. And the only reason he was able to hold himself back was you."

The words hit you like a truck, and you had a hard time processing them at first. You stared at Shiro, waiting for him to jump up and say April fools! Shiro merely stared back, gaze serious as ever. You shook your head dumbly, uttering a sheepish "What?"

Shiro sighed, slumping back a little in his chair. "He's just–more himself when he's around you. I've noticed the way he kind of leans into you when you take his arm to prevent him from beating some sorry asshole to a pulp." You stared at him dumbly, unable to form words. Your brain had hit TILT. "He relies on you, Y/N. And yesterday, when he came across those sophomores, you weren't there." You cringed at that. You knew that Shiro hadn't meant it as an accusation, but you couldn't help but feel guilty anyway. "I'm worried about what will happen to him when you're not there to hold him back."

You took a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. You racked your brain for something to say. You came up empty.

Thankfully, the nurse chose that moment to come knocking on the waiting room door and inform you that Keith was ready to see visitors. Nothing serious, she assured you. Three bruised ribs, a bruised hip and a mild concussion. Keith would have to stay in the hospital wing for one night, then he'd be able to go back to his dorm. He wasn't allowed to go to any classes for a couple of days, at least. Make sure of that, she told you with a stern look. Yes, nurse, I'll make sure. Then you started after Shiro, who had already joined Keith at his bedside.

Something in you made you halt. Maybe it was the feeling of intrusion as you watched the two boys speak to each other in hushed tones. Maybe it was the desire to know what Keith would say when you weren't there. You hold him back, Shiro had said. I don't want him to hold back right now, you thought. So you sidled up against the wall and listened.

"I thought we made a deal." Shiro's soft voice. He was trying to hold back his anger, you noticed. The slight tremor in his voice gave him away.

"You weren't there, Shiro." Keith. Piled-up emotion, a crack. He'd never been good at keeping his voice level. You let the first tear fall.

"What happened?"

"They were–they said awful things. About them. About Y/N." His voice shook. He didn't even try to ban the absolute fury. "What they'd like to do to them. Then one of them started shouting at me. He knew that I'm their roommate." A deep breath. "I just–my vision went red. I snapped. I'm sorry, Shiro. I don't know what came over me, but when it comes to Y/N–" There was a pause, and you imagined Keith opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say. He meant it. You could hear that he meant every single word of it. The tears flowed freely now. You weren't even trying to hold them back anymore.

You pushed off the wall, wrapping your arms around your torso, as if that would keep you from falling apart. You were confused, worried and scared. Scared of Keith's honesty, and scared because you knew that those words hadn't been meant for your ears. Not yet, at least. You didn't know if Keith ever planned on telling you what he just told Shiro. Pushing through the doors of the infirmary, you felt a little guilty for leaving Keith. But he had Shiro, and you were not quite ready to face him yet. A part of you was relieved that he wouldn't come back to your room until the next evening; it gave you time to think. Time to figure out what exactly it was that you felt.

You were scared because your own feelings had just been thrown in a blender. You were never one to dwell much on feelings. You didn't necessarily ignore them, but you also didn't face them. It was like seeing a vaguely familiar someone as you walk through a park. Should you go talk to them? Nah, It probably hadn't even been them. Oh well, you think with shrug, and then you stroll on.

---

A crash woke you with a start. Your heart thundered in your chest and out of reflex, you tried to make your breathing as quiet as possible. You slipped out of your bed, your socked feet not making a sound on the linoleum floorboards. A grunt sounded from the living room, and you heard heavy breathing. You grabbed the first object you could find that would be somewhat suited as a weapon. In this case, a metal ruler.

You tiptoed towards the living room, steadying your breathing, brandishing your ruler, getting ready to slap any intruder there might be. Your fingers travelled along the wall until they found the light switch and rested atop it for a moment. You took a deep breath, tightened your grip on the ruler, counted to three and flipped the switch–

"Keith?"

It was him, that you were pretty sure of. You'd recognise his mop of raven hair anywhere. What you didn't understand was why he was lying on the floor of your living room at one A.M., clutching his knee and generally looking like he was in agony. In the back of your mind, you thought, Didn't I lock the door? But the door was still locked, and above Keith was–

"Keith, please tell me that you didn't scale the building and enter our room through the window."

Keith cast you an unimpressed look. "I didn't scale the building and enter our room through the window?" He frowned, gaze falling on the ruler you were still holding out like a knife. "Is that a ruler?" His eyes shot to your face, shooting you an accusatory glance. "Were you going to hit me with a ruler?"

"I thought you were a burglar!" you defended yourself, feeling your cheeks go red. "You know what, I should hit you with this ruler. You gave me a fucking heart attack."

Keith sighed and pushed himself up. He flinched, a hand pressing to his still-sensitive ribs. Though it had been several weeks since the fight, they still hurt sometimes, as did his hip. Obviously, scaling a two storey building didn't particularly help that. Normally, you would have helped him out, but right now you felt like he deserved the pain. You spun on your heel and stalked back to your room.

"Y/N, wait," Keith said weakly from behind you. You gave him the finger. You plopped onto your bed and crossed your arms, glaring at Keith with an icy stare and an arched eyebrow.

"I'm waiting," you informed him. Keith gave you a sarcastic nod and stood in the doorway, awkwardly patting his jeans to rid them of any dirt. He was fidgeting, you noticed, and he wouldn't look you in the eye. A beat of silence passed.

"Forgot my keys," Keith finally said, gaze firmly fixated on his hands. Your eyebrow disappeared even further towards your eyebrow.

"And you couldn't call me? Knock on the goddamn door? We have one of those, you know."

"I didn't want to wake you up," he said. He leant on the doorframe, tightly crossing his arms. His cheeks were tinted red. He was blushing, you realised. Keith Kogane was blushing. Then again, it was one A.M. and you had just caught him trying to sneak back into your room through the window.

"You know you could have woken me up. I wouldn't have minded."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

You sighed, lowering your head into your hands. "You literally just recovered from bruised ribs and a concussion, Keith. What were you thinking?"

"I was feeling fine! I am feeling fine. It's not the first time I've done this, you know."

Your head shot up and you glowered at Keith, whose eyes widened as he realised his mistake. "Wait, no, Y/N–"

"What?" you hissed, slowly rising up and stepping towards Keith, who held up his hands in surrender and took a step back.

"I know what I'm doing, okay? I swear I'm careful–"

"Considering you bruised your ribs and your hip two weeks ago I would beg to differ," you scoffed, running a hand through your hair and poking Keith in the chest. "When did you start doing this?"

Keith rubbed the back of his neck and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "It was a dare. Just Pidge, Lance and me dicking around in the parks, playing a stupid game of spin the bottle. We didn't plan it or anything."

"That's supposed to make me feel better? The fact that you've spontaneously decided that doors aren't challenging enough for you anymore?" You planted a hand on your hip, trying to keep your face stern, but at the sight of Keith's almost pleading face you had to hold back your laughter.

"Spontaneity is good for the soul?" It sounded like a question, and you couldn't hold back your giggles anymore as you slumped forward and rested your head on Keith's torso. He tensed slightly underneath your touch, but you were too tired to process it and you discarded the thought as soon as it came to you.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Keith Kogane," you mumbled into his shirt, voice muffled by the fabric. Keith took a deep breath, hesitantly resting his chin on top of your head. You closed your eyes as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you only slightly closer to him. This wasn't the first time you'd hugged, but somehow this time felt different. You blamed the fact that your heart was suddenly beating a lot faster on the fatigue.

"Y/N," Keith started softly, running his hands up and down your back. His featherlight touches made you shiver, and you were pretty sure that your cheeks were bright red. You snapped your eyes open as you realised that maybe, just maybe, you weren't just tired. You hummed, not entirely trusting yourself to speak.

Keith cleared his throat. "Two weeks ago, the fight–I just realised I never told you what it was about." You raised your head to look him in the eye. He had indeed never told you, but you knew anyway. But you wanted to hear it from him, and that was why you kept your mouth shut and held Keith's gaze. You wanted to know if he was actually going to tell you.

"The sophomore guys–they were talking about–well, they were talking about you," he said. His grip tightened just a fraction, but the protective gesture was enough to send a shiver up your spine.

"What did they say?" you asked, even though you had a pretty clear idea of what exactly the men had been saying. Keith sighed, unwrapping his arms from around you to run a hand through his hair, leaving tufts of his raven locks sticking up in every direction. You had to fight the urge to smooth them down.

"General asshole talk. But that's not the point, Y/N, it's how I reacted. I lost control and I'm sorry."

You reached up and brushed some of his hair aside so you could properly look into his eyes. They shone their usual violet colour, and they held a tenderness that made your knees weak. "You don't have to be sorry. You might make me worry to death if you continue like this," you said with a laugh, absent-mindedly tracing your fingers over Keith's cheek, "but you don't have to be sorry."

A deep blush reddened Keith's face, and you realised that your hand still cupped his cheek. A lazy smile pulled at your lips and you cocked your head, pretending not to notice the sharp breath he sucked in through his teeth. His hands twitched at his sides, as if he desperately wanted to lay them on your hips, but was too scared to do so.

"Can I kiss–"

You grabbed Keith's face and pulled him down, pressing his lips to yours. A happy sigh left his mouth at the contact, and the way he leaned into you while simultaneously wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him had your head spinning. Your other hand came up to rest on the back of Keith's head, your thumb brushing over the nape of his neck and your fingers burying themselves in his hair.

You felt like you were going to burst. You pushed yourself up on the tips of your toes, already craving the feeling of his lips on yours before you'd even stopped. Your head was a flurry of thoughts zipping by, a blur of memories you hadn't deemed important before, but now...

One of the memories was of you and Keith sitting underneath a tree, revising for one of your many tests. As you rattled off answer after answer, Keith looked up and grinned at you, a fond look on his face you hadn't seen before. Your heart did a little leap in your chest, and you wondered now how you hadn't noticed before how much you had wanted to kiss him.

Now you pulled away just enough to look Keith in the eyes. His pupils were blown, his lips plump from kissing. His entire face was red, and a giggle left your lips as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his nose brushing against your neck. He mumbled something into your shoulder and you pinched his side.

"What was that?"

"You have no idea for how long I've wanted to do that," he said, tightening his grip around you as if he was afraid of what would happen if he let go. You smiled, gently running your fingers through his hair.

"Did it go the way you'd imagined?"

Keith chuckled, trailing his lips up and down your collarbone, pressing featherlight kisses to the exposed skin. You had to struggle to keep your breathing level. "It certainly was... spontaneous." He straightened and kissed you again, ever so gently. If he kept going on like this, your weak heart probably would never recover.

When you finally broke apart, you pressed your forehead to his, gazing into his violet eyes. "They say it's good for the soul."

#voltron fic #vld fic #voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron x reader #vld x reader #keith x reader #voltron keith x reader #voltron keith kogane #vld keith x reader #vld keith kogane #keith voltron #keith vld #shiro voltron #vld shiro #voltron takashi shirogane

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pomegranate-belle · 6 years

Text

For Day 3 of MattFoggy Week: Matt Murdock Appreciation/Favorite Matt Moment

This is... Kinda late in the day to post, but I waffled for a long time. The next chapter of the Netflix/616 crossover would’ve been perfect for today’s theme, but it’s just not done yet. Instead, have some little bits and pieces from my WIP for the Marvel TV Bang, including one of my favorite Matt moments (who could choose just one??) aka Baby’s First Act of Vigilantism; apologies to the mods if these are still supposed to be anonymous but I figured that was just for art claims purposes--

((The premise of this fic is that NYC summons Matt to protect itself from Fisk (also a demon). Since the City has no soul of its own to sell, it lets Matt choose any person he wants. ;) Three guesses who the lucky winner ends up being--))

When Matthew Murdock dies, his hands are inches from the throat of the man who ordered his father’s murder, close enough that he can feel Roscoe Sweeney’s body heat against the pads of his fingers, pulsing like blood. They get no closer than that.

He takes a single bullet to the base of his skull, and can still feel the burn of it when he no longer has a skull to feel at all.

Matthew Murdock falls through the cracks, the way he always has. His body is destroyed beyond recognition and dumped without ceremony or care into the East River. There’s no one to miss him. No one to wonder if his soul has passed on.

It hasn’t.

The devil in him claws to the surface, clings to the City, clings to revenge, laughs at the way the City – webbed with energy and darkness and pain like a cracked windowpane – clings back. And even when the rest falls away, all the senses that remain falling silent with no input at all, there’s a piece the City in Matt and a piece of Matt in the City. A seed of each one in the other, a place where they’re the same – ravenous, protective, wounded.

And so perhaps in the end that’s the reason – the reason that, eleven years later when the City feels its first stirrings of true fear, it pulls Matthew Murdock out of the nothing, out of the void, out of the Ether. Draws him like a blade from that empty realm of demons and offers him anything he asks for.

The first thing he hears as he gasps in his first breath is screaming. Everything screaming. Himself, screaming. Every sense warring with the unprecedented, sudden onslaught of information. It’s like being blinded all over again.

… All over again.

Because he was. Blind. Before, yes. Before the aching gulf of nothing, before the Ether. Before it, he’d been… He’d been…

Matthew, the City seems to sing, soothing him from its barrage of sounds and smells and textures. Matthew Michael Murdock.

Yes. It all comes back to him, leeching through him like blood through veins – Jack Murdock, the accident, the orphanage, Stick… The mobsters.

The gun.

One shaking hand reaches for the back of his neck, but there’s no scar beneath his sensitive fingertips. Just soft skin and the wispy, silken brush of hair. The City has made him whole again. Bright and shiny and new.

And older. He must… He must be older, he thinks to himself, because he had been only seventeen when he died and he feels sturdier, a little taller than he did then. When Matt rubs a hand across his face, shakily assessing the differences in his body, he feels the itchy rasp of stubble where before there had been nothing but smooth skin.

The clothes he’s wearing are different too, not the simple, threadbare things he’d had on – hand-me-downs from the orphanage. Instead, the fabric against his skin is soft, gentle. High in quality, fitted like a dream. A button-up shirt, a silk tie, a suit jacket and slacks. Dress shoes. There are a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He pulls them off slowly, runs the pad of his thumb along the edge of the frames. Round. Matt slips them back onto his face. He tries to imagine the picture he makes. Professional, maybe. Like the lawyer his dad always wanted him to be.

A strange, contented feeling fills him that he knows is not his own. It’s the City, taking pride in its work, telling him, Look what We have made of you, feel the strength We have given you. And there is strength. A well of power so deep it almost scares him, thrumming under his skin, between muscle and bone.

The power of a demon.

Because that’s what he is now, he realizes with a shudder. A demon. One of the more-than-human creatures that stalk the streets of the City, that leave black Marks on the skin of the people living in it like dirty fingerprints.

The City has always had demons in it, and they have always had magic, but this? It’s beyond anything Matt recalls hearing about as a child or a young man. What he’s been given is fathomless. He could do anything with this power. Rip the world apart and put it back together.

But even with so much magic at his beck and call, he’s— cold. It’s like a hunger but it aches in his fingers and his heart instead of his belly. He… Needs something. Something…

The asphalt is warm under his feet, hums with life and energy, but not enough. The City can’t give Matt what he needs. What he needs…

That’s right, he thinks to himself. That’s right. A soul. He needs a soul. But even if the City is full of souls, it doesn’t have one of its own to keep Matt warm.

What warmth it does have surrounds Matt, strokes a summer breeze against his cheek and says— It’s ok. Choose one. Any one you want is yours, if you do as We ask.

And Matt is so desperately hungry for that warmth, and he loves his City – remembers, from Before, having always loved it, having learned that love from his father and from the people around him – that he says yes without any hesitation at all.

The deal is struck.

The City needs a protector, and Matt needs a soul, and then… Then the screams inside them both will stop.

It’s not long into his summoning that Matt hears the girl crying. Every night, crying. Her father comes into her room at night, and terrible things happen, and she cries.

The City is used to those sobs, even if it doesn’t like them. To Matt, though, they’re grating. They fray his nerves, rub them raw. But this isn’t in his deal, this isn’t part of the plan.

Still, it… It doesn’t always take demon magic to fix the world’s problems. Matt phones in an anonymous tip. He waits, he hopes.

The crying doesn’t stop. It actually gets worse – silent and gasping and painful. Helpless rage burns in his stomach like cold fire, only enhancing the chills that shiver through his body. But there is nothing he can do, no part of this that he can wrestle under the heading of the City’s deal. And the City is used to the crying, even when it hates it. It has to live with every person in it, the girl’s father included – the City doesn’t love him, but he’s still a part of it, one flickering flame among millions. And the only ones Matt is allowed to harm are the ones the City summoned him to. There’s no cruelty to the way it ushers Matt far from the girl’s window, but it still hurts. Aches inside him like a festering wound that Matt worries will never be healed.

Until the girl does something new. Until the night that she sets a book, dank with mildew, on her bedroom floor with a heavy thump. Scribbles something into the wood of the floorboards in firm strokes of what must be, by smell and sound, chalk. Dark energy fizzles in the air that night, a summoning to be done, a deal to be made. A deal born of vengeance and terror and the desperation of a child betrayed. A deal that sings for him. And Matt is clever, and he’s powerful, and he’s the City’s favorite. The deal is his almost before he can think to ask for it.

Matt’s hands are wrapped with cloth but the man’s blood seeps through them. It’s hot and soothing against his skin. He wants to bathe in it, use it to drive away the chill that still haunts his bones. When Matt flashes his victim a smile, his teeth are fangs and there are huge, twisted horns sprouting from his skull.

“Touch your daughter again and I’ll know,” Matt breathes, pressing a burning hand to the man’s jaw and leaving behind his Mark; a warning, a brand – equal and opposite to the one hidden beneath his daughter’s sleeve, a jagged mirror of Matt’s Mark that flares with malevolence instead of protection. “Touch her again and you die.”

“W-who are you?” the man demands, terror laced through every breath.

Demons don’t have names. Don’t remember them. They choose new ones, when they surface. And even though the City returned his name to him, Matt knows what he wants to say. Knows the message he wants to send this man and anyone like him.

Those Murdock boys, he remembers his grandmother saying, can almost remember the way the wrinkles creased her face, they got the Devil in ‘em. There’s nothing in Matt now – not even a soul – so he knows there’s no Devil in him.

Matt grins, savors the stinging, already-healing pain of the split in his lip.

“Me? I’m the Devil.”

And as long as that means he can keep the City safe, keep people like Eva safe… Well, Matt’s just fine with that.

Karen’s companion smells heady and sweet, enough that Matt can almost taste it on his tongue. Enough that his fingers twitch with desire when he considers burying his nose in the man’s neck to better inhale his scent. Even more alluringly, the man’s soul swirls with magic – Matt is put in mind of photos of the galaxy that he saw as a child. It’s blazingly warm, like sunlight on the skin, and it dances when the man laughs a perfect, glittering laugh. A tremble born of arousal, of hunger, chases its way through Matt’s body at the sound.

“Are, um,” Karen asks hesitantly. “Are demon Marks always black?”

“What kind of question is that?”

The stranger sounds puzzled, concerned, and the tone of his voice – so full of care, love – sends another shiver of pleasure down Matt’s spine. He wants that tone with a greed that borders on terrifying. Wants it directed at himself.

“Well.” Karen’s voice breaks Matt out of the trance. “Well, say one was… Red. What might that mean?”

The rhythm of the man’s steps stutters, halts.

“Karen, I have literally never heard of a red Mark in my life. Is there… Something you want to tell me? You didn’t, you know, make a deal or something, did you?”

“No!” Karen lies. “No. Just, you know, curious, I suppose.”

“Right.” Her companion doesn’t sound at all convinced. “Well, you know… You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, Foggy, of course. Of course I do. Really, it’s nothing.”

Foggy, Matt mouths to himself, feels the shape of the name on his tongue. Foggy Nelson. It’s… Silly. Whimsical, and gentle, and sweet. Like the man it belongs to. Perfect.

Franklin Percy Nelson, the City purrs proudly – first-middle-last with no hesitation, not even considering the power that name could give Matt over the man strolling, unaware, down the street below him. The power to break free of any spell he casts, to thwart any exorcism he attempts… Even to bewitch or enchant him. It’s an intimate knowledge, but it’s not one Matt wants from the City – it’s not something he wants to use or exploit.

And anyway, he… He likes ‘Foggy’ better than Franklin.

But while Matt might be— enamored, he’s not a fool. Very rarely is anything as it seems at first— Er. Well. Matt isn’t much for glancing. But the point is that people aren’t always what they seem. And as much as he doesn’t want to think that this could be the case with Foggy… Matt’s not used to good things falling into his lap. He wants to be sure, to be absolutely certain, before he makes his choice.

He’s got a little recon to do. The City seems amused with he whole thing, and it doesn’t protest. Actually even seems eager to find out what Matt will do next. He takes this show of interest as the gift it is, and temporarily shifts his focus, from the City’s deal to Foggy.

#mattfoggyweek #matt murdock #daredevil #mattfoggy #writing

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empressxmachina · 6 years

Photo

Welcome Home, Sasha - One. by Imperial-Radiance (aka me)

To set the mood:

Alexa, play this video containing simulated spaceship bedroom ambiance and featuring a fairly complementing background fitting for the first half of this part.

As for this preview pic that resembles the helm in the second half of this part, it's this picture off Pinterest, I think.

Now, the story...

“So, can you tell me anything about why the hell they were getting emulsified by Commander Martin back there?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, will you?”

“In due course, sure. But everything you need to know, for now, you already do.”

“Well, fuck.”

If you oversleep, then don’t expect to get work or pay during the day. That was one of the general, unspoken rules aboard the space station Novis, and Lieutenant Sasha Keeling had prayed that the team with whom he was meant to scout would be as apathetic as usual and not catch him arriving late to training. Or, they would at least allow him to pull some sort of overtime to make up for the time lost: not much, considering all he had done for them already just trying to fit in.

Washing up and putting on his suit in record time, Sasha had zipped out of his quarters and through the space station’s corridors, hoping to catch up with his presumed partners before they made any bold decisions without him. But they had.

Where he had expected to find them in Hangar C, conversing by and packing gear into the eldest’s parked spaceship, he instead found an empty parking space that had run cold. Any other day, Sasha would’ve just figured that its owner was out for a test run with his partners being elsewhere in Novis doing other things. But, the lack of message left for him, them not answering his calls for verification, and the teasing expressions and chuckles from those in the hanger that caught sight of him set in stone that they not only left him in the space dust but used him, never going to bring him along in the first place.

Sasha hadn’t had much time to wallow in his embarrassment, though he definitely lived up to his given nickname of Sasha the Sheepish. As he turned around to head back to his quarters to nap and drink his shame away, he was stopped by a familiar but a nowadays not-so-frequent face.

He, a superior on various levels except for height, had known all too well that Sasha had no business being in the hangar. He wasn’t enlisted for any mission at the time, yet there he was, ragged looking with his auburn locks going in all directions and his deep-set chestnut eyes no better but everywhere else suited up like it should’ve been.

Sasha easily saw the judgment on his senior’s face, watching his facial muscles squirm and lift the textured, ebony hairs above and on it. But rather than being scolded on the spot as he and all the now silenced onlookers expected, the higher-up just guided him away from all their eyes to his haven with no questions asked, where he could take him in all for himself.

It wasn’t the first time Tshepo Azikiwe, a Novis admiral, had brought him into his laboratory, finally greeting the shy subordinate with a “Glad You’re Back” upon arrival, but Sasha never thought that particular meeting then – one predicted to be another one-hour lecture on how he shouldn't be so susceptible to first-time kindness – would eventually lead to him taking the role not of just a passenger but of his Mission Specialist and potential copilot in Tshepo’s own ship, the Demeter, light years away from Novis and headed to… to…

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” the now lackadaisical lieutenant probed in the present from down the hall, voice floating through the cracked open, milky glass doorway dividing the helm from the rest of the dark and dim ship.

As far as he could tell, there was a blur on all the windows, and all the mapping systems in the Demeter except those in the cockpit were shut down. Sasha had no way of detecting where they were in the caverns of space, and there was no way he was going to be able to get Tshepo's lenses off him that did.

To combat the boredom and Tshepo’s silence on the matters ensued, Sasha wondered to himself, lain with one foot on the bed of his cold cabin, twiddling and examining a miniature of a NASA Space Shuttle from years – decades, a century – past he’s had since childhood between his fingers. He gazed at it intently, still enamored by its attention to detail and maintained quality for something so small and ancient. He could even imagine almost undetectable, tiny navigators inside the orbiter, fiddling with the controls at the helm.

As fun as it was to wonder, it wasn’t long before a wave of angst came through, making him reminisce of its and thus his own origins: his home world he hadn’t seen for over a decade.

Every day, he wondered what his life could’ve been if things didn’t go as they did. Perhaps, he would've been an Earth-based astronaut for NASA rather than the distant affiliate he was now, helping and being a part of humanity directly rather than perusing the galaxies for the unknown just to keep the peace. It would sure be less hectic than potentially starting a war every moment solely by existing.

“Have you finished setting up the mods on your suit?” Tshepo tested back from the driver’s seat, glancing at the rearview mirror propped to aim back toward the lantern-lit dormitory.

It was a simple yes-or-no question: one of the few static binaries in the ever-expanding universe. So, how would a non-answer such as the one Sasha gave for a duration fit into the equation? The jab-less silence from Sasha was telling enough on its own, but with the distant footsteps and rustling and creaking of the bed that followed, along with another verbalized “Fuck”, Tshepo knew his authority still held its strength.

“I thought so,” he chuckled, focusing back on the expanse in front of him. “I figured you would’ve at least tried to get it calibrated, but there’s no use worrying about that now.”

Sasha set his toy down on his bedside table with a groan and hoisted himself off the bed to do as he had been instructed (after volunteering) to do. He began to stretch, attempting to revitalize his limbs and loosen his muscles, simultaneously scanning what practically was his second home – third, counting his quarters on Novis.

A quaint hovel, his cabin was: a mobile, cup-sized, soup can of a capsule containing bits and pieces of him, old and new. Although the technological intricacies of his intergalactic escapades were worthily glorified – the inner, emerald luminescence and trackers of his spacesuit, prototypes and mockups of Tshepo’s various experiments, including those to which Sasha contributed, cycling through a Holo-Display and its cyan figures on his desk, the marvel that was the Demeter itself, etc. – the images of the relatively domestic side of his life overshadowed them through their simplicity and wholesomeness.

Many scoffs and looks of confusion were always sent Sasha’s way about his suit and all of the old-school references and icons of Earth-centric media scattered on its chest plate via decals, but he never batted an eye at them, not ashamed of his roots one bit. Those sentiments spread to more than just absorbed culture, exemplified by all the pictures and video clips of Sasha’s various achievements, large and small, Tshepo pasted across the walls, ranging from his first time completing the Zero-G Hero’s Course as a wee kiddo with bruises for days to the recent ceremony locking in his promotion to Chief Atmospheric Engineer.

Being just twenty years old and hand-picked by the commander, it was an honor in numerous aspects. He had quite a lot for which he could be celebrated, even if his so-called peers took heed to never acknowledge it. Tshepo had every right to be proud of him, but Sasha always wished for the recognition from someone else: two specific people, actually.

Right next to the head of his bed, now behind the Space Shuttle model, was not a hologram or 3D print but an actual paper-printed and framed photo of a preschooler-aged Sasha and his parents together back on Earth. A smaller print also found itself pinned by his heart in his suit, adding to the tradition of having one within every uniform he had had over the years. Looking at the picture, no one would’ve been able to tell the magnitude of the global chaos lingering in its background and out of the frame that eventually led to Sasha’s relocation: just a sweet, happy, space-loving family unit he dearly missed.

Although Tshepo was great in filling the void of his needs and most of his wants, Sasha knew it wasn’t what he wanted deep down. He was never totally sure why his parents couldn’t come with him, let alone why he had to go in the first place. With the fancy gadgets, doodads, and documents they kept around the house as far as he remembered, they had to have been qualified to study the stars and all they held, much more than where he was now. But, what could he do about it, a galaxy or several away? All current worries about them would be produced in vain.

Eventually, his stretching session ended, his eyes shined from familial remembrance, and his hands went for his helmet sat at the foot of the bed. Upon grabbing it and staring into its innards, though, Sasha’s humility toward his abilities and its complementing worries were reignited and heightened as a recollection of Tshepo’s remark burrowed itself deep into Sasha’s consciousness, not for what he said specifically but what was inferred.

“Wait, what?” Sasha muttered to himself, looking back and forth between the helmet and the rest of his suit, trying to remember how to even do the procedure. “If the calibration should’ve been done before landing, then why shouldn’t I be worried about doing it now?”

“Because we’re here.”

Before he could combat Tshepo’s sudden statement, Sasha could sense the truth enveloping under him, feeling and hearing the vibrations and power of the rockets and engines transitioning into the settings needed for a soft landing. As gravity began taking effect on the ship with its descent, Sasha took the moment to look over his shoulder to whatever he could see through his window. Out of all places to which they could’ve been headed, Sasha was shocked to find primarily warm reds, oranges, and browns in view: a spectrum of a hazily familiar planet that usually didn’t require any secrecy to reference.

Perhaps, his eyes were deceiving him, trying to give him a sense of comfort being thrust into what would probably be a challenge. After all, there had to be some reason why Tshepo chose him over someone else with more experience in, well, anything. To see if he truly earned his engineering chiefdom? To test his accuracies as the biogenesist he had been building himself to be through years of lab and class study? Just because he’s a favorite, more or less like a son or brother? With the almost missed plop and anchoring of the Demeter’s landing gear onto an apparently land surface, boosting his hypothesis of their location, it was time to find out.

Feeling confident in where they were, Sasha didn’t bother putting on the helmet just yet, walking out of his cabin with it in one arm while the other tapped his breastplate right above his tucked-in family portrait as both a goodbye and a wish for luck to himself. However, rather than seeing Tshepo doing the same with his suit, approaching him from the helm, Sasha found him still sitting there in the pilot’s chair, not having moved and looking as though he wasn’t going to move, either.

“Uh, are you not coming, Ki?” Sasha queried, stepping across the metal flooring past the lavatory and little lounge area for eating and through the foggy-glassed doorway to his friend/mentor/caretaker with a knock upon entrance.

Tshepo perked up at the polite signaling along with the endearing nickname. While he didn’t feel that Sasha’s feelings toward him had changed since boarding the ship, it was still nice to hear them being as strong as ever, even if they had a sheer veil of sadness over them. The youngling’s sideward approach, leaning close by on the copilot’s chair – his if he wished to contribute – to see his doings hammered their veracity in deeper, making keeping the confidentiality alive all the more difficult with him right there.

“I will if necessary,” he chided, not looking at Sasha as he adjusted the switches, buttons, and screens at the helm.

Only seconds later, Tshepo felt Sasha bend toward him, breaths passing along the bushel of hair across the underside of his chin as the young adult gazed, trying to comprehend anything in sight. He was nervous momentarily, but the worries subsided when Sasha admitted defeat, ultimately sighing and returning to standing position, unable to read the respectively alien language everything was set to. Luckily, their orientation allowed for Tshepo to pull a smirk without notice, glad that his translation scheme actually worked.

“But, right now, I have to make sure levels stay in order,” he continued, finally glancing up at his youthful familiar. “The connectivity to Novis, the Demeter’s power bank, the mods on your suit…”

“And, why can’t you come with me to do that?” Sasha considered through an almost childlike whine. For one, his Ki to the cosmos wasn’t as locked down as he usually was. Or, maybe he was too much so. Either way, it was weird. “Surely, this mission of yours, whatever it is, isn’t time sensitive. You would’ve brought more people with us if that were true.”

“Well, you’re right about the timing. This is a mission searching for accuracy and detail of the ecosphere rather than time being of the essence. Though, being punctual is never a bad thing. After all, your current timeline would be totally different if you had followed that rule, wouldn’t it?”

Sasha caught the reference of petty, partner neglect immediately and couldn’t hold back an audible groan, earning a giggle from Tshepo.

“Anyway,” the youngster tried putting the conversation back on course, “I can wait for you to do your domestic thingies first or even help you with them, and then we can do whatever bio-survey we need to do with you moderating the mods as needed.”

“My suit can only protect me, not monitor you,” Tshepo prompted him, “and the mods are only on yours. They’re still on a test run for which you’ve accepted being the lab rat, so I can only do my part from here.”

Completely disregarding the lack of protection implied, Sasha conceded,

“Fine. Whatever you say, Ki.” He tossed and spun his helmet in the air, catching it like a basketball and observing it like a crystal ball. “I did say ‘Yes’ and all, so I don’t want you to turn me in for insubordination or some shit like that. Not that you would, but I’m not risking it with this secrecy schtick you’re playing right now.”

Tshepo expelled a moan of disappointment, hearing his apprentice of sorts somberly drag him through the ground for what had to be one of the biggest miscommunications in the universe. “All I ask of you is to trust me when I say that everything will be clear as soon as you get out there. Okay?”

Rather than addressing him back directly, Sasha, against his instincts, started setting and securing his helmet on its proper place on his collar, hearing the clicks and suctions of locks and beeps of computer systems turning on to standby, waiting for further instruction. He then turned his gaze away and resumed his ranting through a mutter to himself, given Tshepo’s new, closer proximity,

“You’re already delaying clarifying stuff I was a witness for – what I saw and heard, so I guess it’s not that much of a stretch to think you’d hide stuff I don’t know, too.”

“Sasha, you know I always try to have your best intentions in mind,” Tshepo reminded, rising from his seat and setting a gentle hand on Sasha’s shoulder with an equally endearing soft, russet stare.

Doing so kept the youngling from walking toward the entry latch and expanding both the physical and emotional distance between them just yet. The young man already had enough to be sad about as is, and while the truth would just make it worse, Tshepo didn’t want it holding him back until it was right in front of him with no yield.

“I didn’t think I had to explain how this actually wasn’t a mission for you,” he added with a lecturing cadence, “and I wasn’t supposed to bring you with me but did anyway.”

From the gasp and look Sasha made back, it was obvious to Tshepo that his apprentice wasn’t aware of the helmet’s microphone’s immediate powering on upon placement along with that tiny truth. His slender suit may have been built fully in crimson with an almost radioactive glow of green in every vent and sliver inside and out, it didn’t dampen out the blushing that crept on Sasha’s cheeks through the viewing window.

“Really?” Sasha finally replied after a pregnant pause, to which he received an authoritative nod. If his helmet wasn’t mushing his wispy locks down, then he would’ve been combing through or twirling the ends of them with a hand out of embarrassment: a habit burned into him since he was tween-aged. “Then, why in the fuck did you bring me? Why am I here at all?”

“I already said I can’t test and check at the same time. I have my other reasons for breaking my binds, but don’t tell me you can’t do something as simple as making sure the mods work on the field?”

“Whoa, hold up,” Sasha breathed, not expecting an interrogation, let alone one so seemingly lighthearted. “What are you implying?”

“I don’t know, perhaps that your savant-like styles of science and surveying are bounded by walls.”

As quickly as it came, Sasha’s shame was soon lifted, catching the challenge within Tshepo’s now-apparently friendly berating all the fatherlier. Little did he know that his eventual acceptance of it was falling right into Tshepo's plan. When fitting in a place of comfort, Sasha's cockiness and confidence weren’t hard to pop out.

“No, no. You and I both know that's not true!” Sasha announced, playfully scoffing. “If the commander himself had enough faith to get me promoted – something I'm still not sure I deserve but am grateful of, nonetheless – then I can do a little scan or two. Watch me; I won't let you down.”

“I never thought you would,” Tshepo smiled, patting his youngster's back as he headed for the entry latch to head out. “Just make sure the mods are functional.”

Silence filled the airwaves as Sasha loosened the suction of the heavy latch and trekked down the pebbly path of the exit. He expected to hear winds or animals of the environment or voices of technicians waiting for his arrival, but, surprisingly, he heard nothing on the outside. There was only him, his thoughts, and the beeps and dynamics of his suit. If they weren't the medley of sounds that he was used to on the daily, having never really been talkative with anyone except those of the few positions higher than himself, then he would've thought it was weird.

The young engineer had just made it to the external opening, just about to be exposed to the mystery destination one-on-one, before he heard Tshepo’s voice again.

“One more thing before you go,” he directed through the microphone. “As much as I want you to be quick and correct…” He struggled to find the right words, not wanting to give away the truth about their reason for usage prematurely. “…tread lightly.”

“I, uh…” Sasha caught the hesitation in his voice, frazzled by the strange instruction, but not wanting to restart another uncomfortable back-and-forth, he brushed it aside. Instead, he looked to the metallic, light tessellated walls and ceilings for the camera Tshepo had to have been using to see him, found it, and acknowledged him with a promising salute as he signaled for the doors to open and the exit ramp to be unraveled. “I’m on it.”

Before either of them knew it, the sensors were set off, and the Demeter opened its maw to reveal its insignificant, human inhabitant and release him to the vastness of the unknown, outside world.

#my writing #welcome home sasha #there's no g/t yet but you know there will be #space fic

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ecodweeb · 4 years

Text

Hyundai Hitch Install (Guide)

Y’all asked for it, so here ya go. Here’s my write up on the install of the Curt 11486 hitch on the Ioniq EV. If you’re reading this before you install, allow me to suggest a few other Curt accessories for you: ball mount (45521), 1-7/8″ ball (40061) and/or 2″ ball (40003), hitch pin (21580), and wiring harness (56381). I will cover my wiring harness installation in this guide as well. This project requires about $5 in parts from your BMW dealer.

Let’s get started

First, I suggest reviewing the Installation Guide. Ignore all the trim modification instructions, you’re going to be winging it. I didn’t think to take photos of the panels as my spouse modified them, at the time of this writing it’s raining and will be raining for at least a week, so if/when I have the opportunity to get photos of our panel mods, I’ll update this post.

Required Tools & Parts

Ratchet

10mm socket

17mm socket

Rotary Tool

Safety Glasses

BMW Stud Bolt 07-12-9-904-544

BMW Under Cover Rivet 07-14-7-311-614

Washer that fits BMW stud

Multi-bit Screwdriver with box end bit

Optional, but recommended tools

Trim Panel removal kit (or you could 3d print one)

Small flat head screwdriver

Vehicle Lift

A second pair of hands

1. Relocating the High Voltage Battery Cable

The Curt hitch is a direct bolt on to the frame, the problem is this is in the way:

Remove the 10mm nut and let the cable hang.

This will let you get the hitch aligned to the holes in the frame. My hitch might have been a little warped (cheap Amazon warehouse return), but we broke off two of the frame nuts during this installation. Your mileage may vary.

Assemble the new wiring harness fastener

Install the new wiring harness fastener

After we used the rotary tool to get some of the excess filler out of the hole on the cable clip, the Under Cover Rivet slipped right in, almost right through. The Rivet head was not much wider the widened hole, so we had to add a washer. I’d suggest it regardless. You’ll gently tighten this with the box end bit, after you get the clip positioned.

The cable clip has a lip that hugs the frame rail, rotate the cable clip so that the top of the lip rests against the bottom of the frame rail. Tighten so that the clip wiggles a little but doesn’t twist.

2. Panel Modifications

Like I said, I suck here. We make too large a cut out for the receiver, I’d measure. We did everything by eye.

All the panels will need to be modified, because the Ioniq EV tried to have a solid underbelly. Modify as you see fit.

2.1 Update 6/16/2020

A member of the Hyundai Ioniq Worldwide Group on Facebook followed this how-to and provided the following photos and tips on cutting the plastics:

Here’s the pictures for plastic cutting Right side

Zap strap the sliced section after installation The tape is approximately right amount to cut. Little too much Was cut. I just needed one more car to get it perfect Center

Left side

3. Wiring Harness Installation

The Curt 56381 Wiring Harness Installation Guide can be followed pretty much step by step. Other than attaching the ground to the body, the entire process is plug and play after you remove the panels.

The ground wire is on the driver (left) side of the car, which is the same side of the harness that needs to be grounded. The passenger side has the exhaust fan for the battery pack. I’m curious if RHD vehicles have these parts in the same locations.

I did not run a constant 12v to the battery for obvious reasons. I ran a ground and the 12v constant from the wiring harness control unit through the floor panel.

I ran the wires through the holes for the straps. We tested it on my backup 12v battery (with 3D printed adapter plate being worn as a necklace).

Finally, I attached the cables to a cigarette lighter plug. Puts the jumpbox that lives in the hatch to good use. I’m looking for a smaller one that can fit in the little cubby on the driver side.

Clever or rigged, it works. Now it’s time to #TowElectric.

#hyundai #ioniq #hitch #diy #howto #evtowing #towelectric #curt #blogpost #2020

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thisweekingundamwing · 7 years

Text

New in the GW Fandom! August 20-26, 2017.

Clara suggested that this be this weeks theme. Heh, so, on that note... here are the amazing things completed this past week in our very NOT dead fandom! ^_^

~Mod Hel

Fanfiction:

@anaranesindanarie

Death Unspeaking (Ch. 3 & 4) http://archiveofourown.org/works/11483196/chapters/26839467

What happens when a Gundam Pilot is mute? What happens when the other Pilots look down at him because of it? Will he overcome the odds or will the odds overcome him?

Eventual 3x2

@chronicwhimsy

Saudade (Ch. 8) http://archiveofourown.org/works/11352189/chapters/26915238

3X4, Trowa Barton, Quatre Raberba Winner

@claraxbarton

It Only Has to Happen Once http://archiveofourown.org/works/11858058

Sort of Sunday Sinning.

A bit smutty.

And 1x2x1 - rare for me!

Ready for You (Ch. 4) http://archiveofourown.org/works/11763066/chapters/26847633

A chance meeting ten years after the war leads Duo and Trowa down an unexpected path.

ExecutiveShrimp

The Princess With The Purple Heart (Ch.18) https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12584463/18/The-Princess-With-The-Purple-Heart

AU, 2x1: Don’t ask, don’t tell.

@isolavirtuosa

Unlikely Office Romances http://isolavirtuosa.tumblr.com/post/164631855479/unlikely-office-romances

1x2x1, probably PG-13ish though there are some mildly sexy times and the usual trashmouth

Dr. Heero Yuy, Preventers forensics expert, can’t seem to get over his crush on his former wartime comrade Agent Duo Maxwell. Agent Duo Maxwell can’t seem to stand the sight of him… and yet…?

I was so excited to be posting this story which I started writing 4 years ago, but then I realized who is even the audience for this ahahahaha

Parts 1-2

Jei/turnippatch

The Faithful and the Brave (Ch. 33) http://turnippatch.livejournal.com/157783.html#/cutid1%C2%A0

Fantasy AU/Adventure

1+2, 3+4

@kangofu-cb

The World At Large http://archiveofourown.org/works/11907273

Duo is lost, drifting, after the events of Endless Waltz, but he starts to find himself again, thanks to a travel blog and an online friendship.

1X2, Duo Maxwell, Heero Yuy

@lbro009

Show War the Door https://lbro009.tumblr.com/post/164442717650/fic-snippet-show-war-the-door-taster

Genre: Humour (I hope), silliness, fandom clichés galore

Throwback fic I started 10/11 years ago… ***

@outofworkshinigami

Special Needs (Ch. 7) http://archiveofourown.org/works/10549412/chapters/26818131

Also warning for those who are a bit squeamish: there's some vomiting towards the end of this chapter. You won't miss anything plot heavy by skipping over it. But the gist of that section (if you had to skip it) is that Une is a badass and still very much a strong woman and I tried to imply she's been there helping with Treize for a while when nobody else was. I hope that came through. Also Zechs is easily grossed out.

@post-settlement

PS: Mars Fic https://post-settlement.tumblr.com/post/164648376289/characterdevelopmentforwriters-has-your-character

Hilde Schbeiker, Duo Maxwell, Quatre Raberba Winner, Dorothy Catalonia

Shinohoshi13

By Demons Be Driven http://archiveofourown.org/works/11889852/chapters/26854797

or years she struggled to live, burdened by a long-forgotten past, an unclear present, and a non-existent future. War consumes her life, forcing her to live as if every day is her last. Fate has seen fit to gift her with unnatural abilities far beyond the normal human capacity. With those abilities, she leads a daily game of tag, putting her life on the line over and over again. Will a chance meeting with a young man give this tired young woman the will to keep fighting? And with the war escalating higher and higher, will she have the time to find out who, and what, she really is?

OCx05; slight implied 01x02, 03x04, 06x13; one-sided Rx01.) (Relena bashing.

Strawberrywaltz

The Forgotten (Ch. 4) http://archiveofourown.org/works/11686344/chapters/26833566

1X4, 4XOCs, past 3X4

The entire universe thinks that Quatre Winner is dead, but when Heero starts having strange black outs he begins to realize the rumors of Quatre's death might not be true.

TheManwell

May Demons Rest: Shinigami Sleeps (2017) (Ch. 17) http://archiveofourown.org/works/10944786/chapters/26759832

2X3, WARNINGS: language, angst

@renmaxwell

The Discovery: Part 1, Duo Meets Black Wolborg http://renmaxwell.tumblr.com/post/164598745471/a-few-hours-after-a-snarky-farewell-to-kai-duo

Duo Maxwell, snark

Fanart:

ArtStarZ95

https://artstarz95.deviantart.com/art/gundam-wings-701040348

Wing Gundam

@belgianbooleancg

http://belgianbooleancg.tumblr.com/post/164365573707/gundam-minimalist

Gundam Minimalist Posters

coddfootwalker

https://coddfootwalker.deviantart.com/art/Wing-Gundam-Proto-Zero-TV-ver-Head-off-outline-700430483

Wing Gundam’s head

@dangerstreet

http://dangerstreet.tumblr.com/post/164403440123/join-me-on-patreon-as-i-make-wing-zero-gundam-and

Mech making.

@downwarddnaspiral

http://downwarddnaspiral.tumblr.com/post/164471350106/i-was-a-little-lazy-with-the-shading-but-i-wanted

Trowa Barton and Relena Darlian/Peacecraft in Victorian dress.

@fictioncoefficient

https://fictioncoefficient.tumblr.com/post/164503732697/were-it-not-for-silly-anime-hair-no-one-would

Trowa Barton

https://fictioncoefficient.tumblr.com/post/164525458442/ew-came-out-twenty-years-ago-you-guys-we-need

Quatre Raberba Winner

@hainekoken

http://hainekoken.tumblr.com/post/164561750286

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell

http://hainekoken.tumblr.com/post/164559655761

Quatre Raberba Winner

@hikaru9art

http://hikaru9art.tumblr.com/post/164567238432/duo-doing-what-he-does-best-being-annoying

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell

@maevemauvaise

http://maevemauvaise.tumblr.com/post/164298101401/trowa-barton-from-claraxbartons-pas-de-trois

Trowa Barton

http://maevemauvaise.tumblr.com/post/164226808301/soooo-like-ten-years-of-no-war-and-the-government

Sanc commemorative coin.

http://maevemauvaise.tumblr.com/post/164556055246/they-know-youre-coming-of-course-but-it

Dorothy Catalonia, WuFei Chang

GW, Atomic Blonde, John Wick crossover.

mdtarmimi

https://mdtarmimi.deviantart.com/art/Wing-Gundam-Fenice-Rinascita-700092007

Wing Gundam Fenice Rinascita

@missingart

https://missingart.tumblr.com/post/164473680660/zechs-from-gundam-wing

Zechs Merquise

https://missingart.tumblr.com/post/164356592240/heero-from-gundam-wing

Heero Yuy

miura-n315

https://miura-n315.deviantart.com/art/Noin-699771122

Lucrezia Noin

@outofworkshinigami

http://outofworkshinigami.tumblr.com/post/164654333802/be-good-for-lady-it-had-been-four-years-since

Treize Khushrenada, Mariemaia Khushrenada, Lady Une

Timelapse drawing video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EKrSGDikGrc&feature=youtu.be

Simbiothero

https://simbiothero.deviantart.com/art/Giant-Robots-Battle-Royale-2-700863129

Crossover of Mechas

TheBRSteamer95

https://thebrsteamer95.deviantart.com/art/SFM-Two-Childhood-Crossover-700651547

Wing Gundam Crossover

thunder1928

https://thunder1928.deviantart.com/art/Gundam-Wing-Lady-Une-10-701104370

Lady Une

https://thunder1928.deviantart.com/art/Gundam-Wing-Relena-Peacecraft-SP-9-700391938

Relena Darlian/Peacecraft

https://thunder1928.deviantart.com/art/Gundam-Wing-Catherine-Bloom-3-700335110

Catherine Bloom

Cosplay:

@manabingu

http://manabingu.tumblr.com/post/164524249576/hey-superstars-everything-is-more-fun-with

Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, Quatre Raberba Winner, Heero Yuy, WuFei Chang

Photosets/Screenshots:

@ahsimwithsake

http://ahsimwithsake.tumblr.com/post/164499676598/ive-been-working-on-learning-photoshop-and-i

Trowa (photo manipulation)

@cyberbeastswordwolfe

https://cyberbeastswordwolfe.tumblr.com/post/164522689759/custom-build-1144-epyon-ares

Epyon & Aries

@exavaorgtfo

http://exavaorgtfo.tumblr.com/post/164470386885/ok-so-i-fixed-the-wings-now-prepare-for-the

Gundam

@lbro009

https://lbro009.tumblr.com/post/164569392415/randomness-sallys-changing-hair

Sally Po, Noin, Heero and random puppers.

@vyntic

http://www.vyntic.com/post/164436580868/desolation-after-war-created-by-hank-cheng

Wing Gundam

yefluga

https://yefluga.deviantart.com/art/MG-Wing-Gundam-Zero-EW-700022940

Wing Gundam Zero

Photo Prompts/Prompts:

@claraxbarton

http://claraxbarton.tumblr.com/post/164444487430/iqfashion-patrick-grant-source-tombunningcom

Old men pilots. ...deathfic?/main character death.

@fantwirls

http://fantwirls.tumblr.com/post/164487684730/are-you-doing-the-prompts-thing-still-if-so

Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell

1+2, comedic fluff

@kangofu-cb

https://kangofu-cb.tumblr.com/post/164471867417/fic-prompts-10-did-you-catch-the-book-thief

Quatre, WuFei, book thefts

https://kangofu-cb.tumblr.com/post/164487362817/prompts-2x5-4-21-30-or-35-although-someone-had

2X5, Sleepy grouchy WuFei

Head Canons:

@lifeaftermeteor

https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/164614477810

Trowa Barton

No Idea What To Put This Under:

@anaranesindanarie

https://anaranesindanarie.tumblr.com/post/164525730814/mobile-suit-ability-symmetry

Mech readouts

Calendar Events:

End of Summer Block Party @gwblockparty

https://gwblockparty.tumblr.com/post/164387388052/gwblockparty-tropes-guidelines-what-a

Tropefest! Get your trope on!

Entries to be posted September 1st - 4th!

Gundam Wing Eve War Event @gw-evewar

https://gw-evewar.tumblr.com/post/164079261510/an-open-gundam-wing-fandom-community-science

Open Science Fiction Themed Event

(Saturday) December 23, 2017 - (Sunday) December 24, 2017

*** event will be observing Universal Coordinated Time (UTC) ***

Submissions: Fanfiction, Meta essays, Personal Headcanon, Fan Art

Rules: All works must feature a science fiction theme. Alternate Universes, and cross-over fiction are welcome. There are no limits to characters, pairings, audience rating, time frame or universe.

OC October @gwoc-october

https://gwoc-october.tumblr.com/post/164521028355/update

For the month of October, we can post everything and anything pertaining to fan OCs in Gundam Wing with weekly themes and perhaps a featured OC every other day or so. This includes fic, snippets, art, OC profiles, headcanons, ships, discussions, and anything you have as long as it’s about an OC. Even if this OC of yours is still in the mulling-stages, we want to hear about it! Let’s embrace OCs and celebrate our collective awesomeness.

This Week in Gundam Events @thisweekingundamevents

https://thisweekingundamevents.tumblr.com/post/164453187095/hello-wonderful-fandom

Our new sideblog for helping to host Gundam Wing fandom events!

Check us out and hit us up!

#This Week in Gundam Wing #thisweekingundamwing #weekly roundup #20-26Aug2017

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