A/N: This is my first Steve story, and I thought it’s finally time to bring it out of queue-purgatory. Because I’ve gotten so used to writing for Bucky, switching over to Steve was a little bit of a challenge. However, I adore him so I’m going to try my best. Hope you enjoy! - j xx
“Sssh, guys it’s happening.”
Right when you look up, a tall figure stops running and pulls off his shirt, revealing a body Michelangelo’s David would have envied. The sunshine and sweat add a shiny gleam to the ridges of his pectoral and abdominal muscles, making him look like a fallen god from the skies of Olympus.
That is, if fallen gods wore tight gray running shirts and track pants.
“And there it is,” Wanda breaths, her already-large eyes widening. She and Nat start a slow clap, the latter adding in a couple of whistles.
“I can’t tell believe you dragged me out of bed at six in the morning on a Wednesday to watch someone take off his shirt,” you sigh as you tiredly rub your eyes. You look around - there’s no one at the track but three of you and the hottie with the abs.
“You can grumble all you want, (Y/N), but you have to admit this is hell of a view,” Nat grins. Her steely gaze turns pensive and she muses, “You think those abs are completely gym-manufactured or made through sports?”
“It’s got to be both. That,” Wanda moves her hand in the direction of the abs in question, “is too incredible and has to be a result of magic.”
“It’s too early for this,” you sigh. But Nat is right, those abs are rather glorious, and you can’t help blush as you watch the athlete’s chest rise and fall as he catches his breath.
Right then the half-naked person of their discussion squints their way, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. While you’re too slow to react, Wanda immediately drops her eyes to the phone while Nat casually blows a bubble with her gum.
His eyes stop on you, and his lips turn up into cheekily smile. He first waves before sending you a two-finger salute. Something in your brain clicks as soon as he salutes, and you gasp, “Holy motherfu -”
Got around to drawing more worlds. Besides the fact that these world themes are normally super-generic, I’m glad that when applied to various types of celestial bodies, they stand out much more. I’m also thoroughly enjoying the concepts and the final products.
They’re much more majestic when they bob up and down in the engine, but .gifs and my current recording software can’t capture decent enough quality.
World 1: Wonder Marble
World 2: Canopy Cassiopeia
World 3: Coral Comet
World 4: Building Block Belt
World 5: Vulcan Zeta
World 6: Enigma Nebula
(Building Block Belt is definitely the less refined of illustrations, but I intend to improve it over time)
I’d really like to discuss that according to the canon of Dragon Age: Origins this is how mages look when they’re in the fade (and not sleeping)
waving their arms around wildly like they’re being attacked by bees.
I’m pointing this out because all i can imagine is solas journeying into the fade on his travels and doing this instead of peacefully taking a nap in a ruin. or the inquisitor walking into solas’ study and he’s just flailing about like this?
Bilbo wished he were brave enough to stare down those foreign, blue eyes and tell their self-entitled owner he can fetch his own seed cake, thank you very much.
He wished he could have locked the door and blow the candles and shoo the jolly, messy, dwarf-shaped locusts away.
He wished he were brave enough to be rude to his rude guests. He wished he could snuff that knowing smile from Gandalf’s beaming face. He wished for many things.
He wished that dwarf leader, whatever his name was, weren’t so bloody handsome.
He wished, as he carried the last of his seed cakes and offered it to the dwarf (who didn’t even bother to look up and acknowledge his presence, the arrogant prick) that his eyes weren’t so vividly blue, that his presence didn’t storm through Bilbo’s entire being and filled his humble abode with dreams of adventure, that his voice didn’t vibrate within Bilbo’s very core, that he didn’t smell of earth and rain and ashen pipe-smoke…
He hid in his room, waiting for the normalcy of his life to settle around him and erase Thorin Oakenshield from his thoughts. He fell asleep, dreaming of foreign words and blue eyes and dragons.
Oddly enough, he was displeased to wake up and find the merry company (and its grumpy leader) gone. Almost like a night vision he didn’t dream to its end and now, once awake, failed to remember – he wished for more.
He wanted more.
Bilbo dashed out of his house, contract in hand and handkerchief forgotten, to chase yesterday’s dream of blue, blue eyes.