do you have tips on comic compostions and angling/framing of scenes beacuse holy fudge what the actual hell your mob comic is An Expirience
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhOOOOOOOOOOOO BO Y AIGHT
I’m gonna take this ask as a chance to masterpost about this comic.
Since there wasn’t a set time limit for this comic, I went all ham for it, which means there’s a lot of thought about angles/framing n shit in this sumbitch. (keep in mind i’m still learning this craft myself as i go along so FEEL FREE TO IMPROVE WHEREVER)
I’ll go in depth about it but all of my tips can be summed up with :
go for the emotion of the scene.
Everything I do, I do to try and heighten the feeling in a scene. Everything I’m about to describe were all choices to try and maximize the emotional impressions.
First off, everything in this comic (with the exception of panels 7-9 on page 4) is from Mob’s POV. Everything is built from there. keep in mind goin forward -
We start with Mob terrified of being spotted, of running into anyone. So I strained the perspective to make it feel too close for comfort, despite how far away his other limbs are. I also used the angle to emphasize the “spotlight”, pushing Mob
further discomfort, like he’s being watched anyways.
Mob fears he just murdered someone ? At his lowest moment in this comic? This is where the camera looks down on Mob the most.
Time for shock and awe that the man’s alive ! So Reigen is angled UP, building his Bigness in Mob’s eyes. Most subsequent shots repeat this, keeping us grounded in Mob’s perspective.
Here, Mob is literally on his knees asking for answers. So I pushed for an angle to make him seem really tiny. I wanted him to look as small as he feels.
In the next few pages, the angles basically level out (and I’ll talk more about why in other sections***) until
Mob has just touched back. This was a direct action on his part, so just as I’d built Reigen with that tilt up, it’s Mob’s turn to share that space.
Once Mob fears for the lives of the police, we shift back to high angles. Using a high angle to make a character seem small isn’t groundbreaking but it’s something to chew anyways.
This is less about the angle and more about how cramped everything is. Mob feels backed into a corner unless he can get Reigen to relent. So the tightness and how Reigen looms reflects this.
And here, I mirrored the very first panel. Once again we have a shot of Mob’s back, walking into the light of a streetlamp. But this angle is gentle in comparison, even if slightly off center. We can see where the light comes from so it ceases to feel less like an omnipotent threat and more mundane. Perhaps even hopeful.
I’m sorry to say I feel this is one of my weak points as a creator. I’d like to improve here the most. Most of my panels can be summed up with ‘slant = energized’, ‘straight = stable’. BUT. I did take a few liberties here and it’s good to point them out.
Broken glass to heighten the ouch on Mob’s part.
Salt man don’t give a fuck. he IS the panel. //adds to the energy of this moment
This break from the panels is meant to make Mob hitting Reigen a more immediate threat.
Same with Reigen reaching around it here. He’s still in danger of being shreddy shreddy at this point.
Sometimes a panel will bleed off, to give a more ‘open space’ feel. I like to use it in subtle “oh” moments. That’s the best I could describe it.
annnnnd nothin like a casual reminder on the edges of panels about what would happen should the police show up.
Once Reigen shows up, he dominates the frame, even in shots where mob is closer to the audience. Again, this is all to emphasize how Big Reigen seems to a scared Mobbu.
Mob pushes himself to corners, Reigen’s given the bulk of the space.
He stands taller than mob and makes the frame uneven.
Even his hand feels huge in comparison.
***That is, until Reigen has a better perception of what’s going on.
Then his actions and staging reflect this.
Reigen kneels down, trying to make himself smaller both to Mob, and in the frame.
The staging reflects Reigen’s attempts to get on even ground, literally and metaphorically.
Mob’s still pushing himself into corners, but now Reigen has actively surrendered some of the space.
Still just, trying to get some of Mob’s perspective.
And from this point onwards, Reigen and Mob share the space/frame more evenly.
Even in shots where Reigen’s kinda large, he no longer seems so imposing.
Mob still looks up to him but we no longer have such dramatic shots tilting him up and having him hog the focus of the panel.
And we save the closest-closeup, both in staging and in how close our characters physically feel for last. Because bonding and shit.
Decided to make the use of color sort of uncomfortable. Hinted at in edges but not really a presence of their own. Hard to tell what the color of anything is because it’s all nonsense in ur peripherals.
Until we get to humans. But this color seems more invasive, and doesn’t really touch mob in a positive way.
Till we get to these splash of color, messy and kinda unorganized but it’s exactly what Mob needs to bring some order.
From here we get a muted color wash, there but still slightly dulled.
The first hint we get of the saturation to come is centered around the touch.
We slowly fade into full blown saturation once Mob reaches back.
The name meanings of Jun and Tetsuo, since this is the street where they live and why not ahaha.
There’s a lot of bird imagery in ABoT so I
“Kid, it’s like lifting a feather.”
And even tho Reig gets a cool halo from the streetlights n shit
We all know who the real angel is
Other fun shit
Mob’s outfit is based on Sakurai’s outfit when he was orphaned as a child.
I literally put the streetlight directly behind the hand in this shot because I lack subtlety and love it.
There are 2 times where I cut out a bit of (frankly beautiful) wordage in order to show things better visually. Both times happen when Mob’s stopped paying attention.
First with Reigen’s words just becoming a flood of nonsense pretty sounds.
The second when Mob’s thinking about the possibility of his barrier being gone.
also here u guys can have some behind the scenes shenanigans
summary:they say friends with benefits never works. fun turns into feelings and everyone gets hurt. you and jungkook are no different to the stereotype. jungkook is in too deep for comfort and you’re not sure if you can return what he wants. after all, he is a sought after celebrity and you know the consequences of playing with a little too much fire.
The sun is bright, almost too bright as you finally open your eyes from your deep slumber. Not only is the sun too bright, but it is also too damn hot in this room. Your vision blurs together to a couple seconds before it clears, comprehending my surroundings. A familiar sight covers your eyes and you go to stretch your body out until you are halted by a heavy entity; another body. You glance up to the left to be met with soft brown hair dangling, closed eyes, and slightly parted mouth that breathes slowly in and out. Memories flash across your mind as you remember the first time you saw the now familiar face.
BTS reaction to their S/O saying they love them for the first time
Jin: You two would probably be seated somewhere for dinner and as you were telling him about your day it just sort of spilled out. Being the dramatic cutie he is, he just stops eating and looks up. With a cheesy smile he’d tell you that he loves you too.
Yoongi: He was actually the one who told you first but since it was on your birthday and the guests at your party were hectic you weren’t able to tell him anything back. So one night as you’re laying next to him you just suddenly blurt it out. An almost quiet chuckle comes from him and let’s just say you might not end up going to bed right after
Namjoon: It was late but you still sat on the couch in your boyfriends studio because you didn’t want him to be alone. “Listen, I love you but I also really love sleep.” He’d tilt his head, turning around in his seat. “You love me, huh?” He might tease you about it but once you start blushing he’d tell you he loves you too and that he’ll hurry up.
Hoseok: As you two were cuddling on the living room couch you looked up at him. He’d lean down to give you a kiss but before he could you felt like you just had to finally tell him. “You know I love you right?” He’s stop and laugh. “You know I love you too, right?”
Jimin: We all know that cute side of Jimin would instantly come out when you said it to him in front of the other members (unintentionally) and they start to tease him. “Hey you’re just jealous because someone loves me!”
Taehyung: “Wait, Y/N what did you say?” “I said I love you?”The troublesome smirk on his face told you something was up. You realize the way he’s holding his phone up he was recording you and your feeling was right when you see the notification go off to your group chat with the members. “Taehyung!” He’d be a giggling fit. “I just wanted to make them jealous. I love you too~”
Jungkook: As flustered as he actually was he’d try to pull some cocky attitude out of no where. “Oh yeah? Well I love you more so what are you gonna do about that?”
Summary: No plot. Literally zero. This is straight up porn. With both Winchesters (no wincest).
Word Count: 2704
Warnings: A whole lotta fuckin’.
Tags are at the bottom. There is still room on my Forever Tag List, you can add yourselfhere. Thanks!
Isn’t A Dream
This isn’t a dream.
This is really happening.
Dean’s lips are soft and pliant against my willing mouth. Sam’s kisses skim the delicate skin below my earlobe, his hair dusting my collarbone.
Sam’s mouth travels upward, his warm breath tickling when he whispers into my ear. “Do you trust us?”
My heart skips a beat but it knows the answer. The answer is yes. Implicitly. There isn’t a person alive or dead that I trust more than the Winchesters.
“Yes.” The word rolls of my tongue and vibrates against Dean’s mouth, which turns up into a sexy grin when he hears my answer, his green eyes sparkling.
Sam’s chuckle is throaty, rumbling in his chest. I tilt my head and turn to look at him and once again, I can’t believe this is really happening. Dean reaches up a finger and hooks it under my chin, directing my gaze back to his. Perhaps a competition for my affections is brewing. I can’t say the idea doesn’t thrill me.
“We’re going to take good care of you, (Y/N).” Dean says it like a promise with a hint of threat. It sends a wave of lust from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes.
“Hell yeah, we are,” Sam reaffirms Dean’s promise. Sam loosens the knot on the tie at the base of his throat while Dean lifts the hem of my shirt. His hand caresses my skin as he works the shirt up and over my head.
Title: Fool Character: Ivar the Boneless Summary: You are injured in battle. Word Count: 1.420
Unlike the Saxon army that quivered before you in fear, you were having a hard time containing your excitement. You could barely keep yourself from charging forward by yourself, your body responding to the tension that thickened the air. The short moment before a battle always felt like eternity. You weren’t the only one feeling this way either. The Vikings that surrounded you twitched and shuffled forward little by little, ready to surge forward with the sound of the horn.
You weren’t entirely sure what was taking so long, Björn’s form stalking in front of the army. But, however handsome he was, that wasn’t the brother that caught your attention. Thick dark hair smoothed back, jaw line clenching and his striking eyes glaring at the enemy, Ivar’s hands clenched the reigns. He was always an impatient one, this you knew personally.
As if feeling your gaze, his eyes snapped to yours. Leaning slightly towards you, he let a feral smile tilt his lips before turning away. While you wouldn’t say he loved you, it was clear that he felt something for you. Nights spent together, his harsh touch dragging against your skin and scorching your very being, there was something there. Last night was no different, his arms wrapped around your form all night.
‘Stay close.’ He had ordered, his lips brushing against your neck before leaving that morning.
Looking now, the amount of bodies surrounding you, it would be hard to heed his order. But the Gods know you will try your hardest, there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t attempt for Ivar. While he may not feel the same, you did love the man. Enough to die for his cause and help him achieve his destiny.
With that thought, you tightened your fingers around the handle of your shield and looked forward once again just in time for the horn to sound.
It was something Odin would be proud of as everyone moved forward as one, our voices booming across the field. Time slowed briefly as both sides collided together, the sound almost as loud as Thor’s hammer before everything sped up again.
Ducking and swiping, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as blood splattered with every downward strike of your ax. Your body jolted with ever block you managed to make but it was almost a pleasurable ache. Even the slight sting when someone had managed to connect with your swift body was exciting.
It could have been hours or even minutes, the battle seeming to make time go faster. It was clear who the winners of this battle would be as your brothers and sisters outnumbered the others. Turning around, you could see Ivar’s chariot fly by, his once white horse dripping crimson and his body painted in red. Your body suddenly felt hotter as you watched his muscled frame flex, his movements swift and precise.
A glimmer of something silver had caught your attention from the far side of the field. A Saxon soldier cowardly pointing his weapon from a distance. Following the path his arrow would take; it was clear he had his eyes on killing the Prince- your Prince.
Without even thinking about it, you placed yourself between the archer and Ivar. You had lost your shield a while ago but you stood unafraid. Ivar’s blue eyes lightened with pride, perhaps thinking the battle was truly over as he slowed his chariot to a stop. Your name escaped Ivar’s lips as you turned away from him and released your ax from your hand.
You smiled as your ax stayed true and hit dead center, even as you wheezed in a shaky breath. You had felt the arrow connect with a dull ‘thunk’ that sent shockwaves through your body. Your hand flew to the arrow as you sank to your knees.
Your eyelids felt heavy as you struggled to keep them open. Ivar was suddenly in front of you, his hands shaking as they pushed your hands away and replaced them with his own. You grunted softly as he pressed his hands firmly to your wound to stop the blood.
“No, no, no, no,” Ivar murmured over and over through his teeth as he dragged himself closer to you.
“You’re safe,” you managed to say, your hand brushing softly against his cheek.
“Stop talking,” He hissed.
You knew he was trying to remain strong but the desperation that lingered beneath his hard stare was clear. You could feel yourself slipping, your body feeling so heavy and every movement beginning to seem impossible to do.
“It’s okay,” you slowly dragged your hand over his. “You can let go, Ivar.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Ivar growled, his eyes starting to glisten. “If I let go- “
His voice cracked, not being able to finish the sentence.
You didn’t want him to be sad, “We’ll meet again in Valhalla.”
“Stop talking!” Ivar roared, his face cracking as he let his emotions show. “Please don’t go. Stay with me.”
His voice was more of a whisper now. He sounded so far away but still, even as you were dying, you wanted to please him.
“I love you, Ivar,” you muttered, you needed him to know.
You could barely feel the pressure of his lips against yours as he roughly kissed you.
“Don’t close your eyes,” Ivar pulled away, deep blue filling your vision.
“I can’t- I can’t- “Your lips just couldn’t form words, your voice sounding jumbled.
“You can’t disobey me,” Ivar growled out, “You must do as I say!”
Try as you might, your eyes slid close against your wishes.
‘I love you. Don’t go.’
Your chest hurt with every shallow breath you took. Slowly, you opened your eyes, squinting as the top of the tent came into focus. Your felt stiff but alive. You were alone in the tent but it was clear someone had been there earlier if the blankets on the ground next to you were anything to go by.
Slowly and painfully, you managed to sit up. Your body protested but you refused to remain in the cot. With a grunt, you rose to your feet and walked to the entrance. Flinching slightly as the bright sun hit your eyes, you were surprised when your name was suddenly shouted.
Watching as Helga waved at you, your eyes landed on the figured hunched on the ground beside her. Ivar stared at you, his blue eyes wide as he took you in before a scowl took over his features. As quick as he could, he dragged himself to you.
“What are you doing up?” He snapped, pushing your leg with his hand once he was in reach. “Lay back down you, fool.”
Rolling your eyes, you let him herd you back into the tent and to the cot. “I have rested enough, Ivar.”
“No,” he shook his head, “you are not ready.”
“Ivar,” you sighed, ready to argue.
“No,” He said louder. “You have been shot with an arrow, you could have died. You need to rest. I need you to be okay. I can’t- I can’t do that again.”
It was then that you realized just how tired and worn down Ivar looked. Before, you didn’t think he could love you but now you knew he did.
“Oh Ivar,” you smiled softly, shifting so that you could hold him close to you. “I am sorry you had to go through that.”
“It was foolish,” He pushed away from you, his anger causing his blue eyes to spark. “How dare you take an arrow for me, how dare you almost die!”
“I had- “you started but was cut off.
“No you didn’t have to do anything,” Ivar snarled. “I’d rather die than have you die for me. I love you, woman. Why can’t you see that?”
His confession sent shivers down your spine and straight to your heart. “I love you too, Ivar. But if I could go back, I’d do it all over again.”
“I know you would, you daft woman. A complete fool for wanting to die for me,” He muttered softly, heaving himself onto the cot so that he could sit beside you. “For loving me.”
“If I’m a fool for loving you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him, “then so be it.”
“Foolish,” he whispered against your neck, pressing a kiss against your pulse. “If you dare to try to leave me again and I swear to the Gods I will drag you back.”
His trapped your eyes in a fierce gaze before crashing his lips to yours.
Prompts:#3: “This isn’t what it looks like.” // #4: “I really wish you’d told me your mother was in town.”
Warnings: language - but, uh, nothing else really
Word Count: 1.1K
A/N: Y'all, I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday and I’m pretty much scared shitless. So, uh, that’s cool. Anyways, here’s some awkward-mom-encounter content.
Soft sunlight shines through the open window next to your spot on the couch. It’s almost noon, but you’re still in your pajamas, a book in your hands, and a mug that once was full of hot coffee near your arm on the side table.
“Mornin’, doll,” Bucky hums as he shuffles up to you, placing a quick, soft kiss to the top of your head. He plops down next to you, gently pulling your legs into his lap, and scoots closer to you, rubbing soft circles into your calf.
“Buck, it’s almost noon,” you laugh at him. He blinks and turns his head towards the wall where a small, antique clock hangs in the middle of framed pictures.
“Huh,” he huffs. “I guess you’re right. Oh, shit,” he closes his eyes and throws his head back against the couch. “I’m supposed to meet Steve at one for a mission briefing.”
“Well, you should probably get goin’ then,” you close your book, then set it on the table next to you and swing your legs off his lap. “There’s some extra hash browns I made earlier on the counter if you want ‘em.” You stand up and grab your mug, walking over to the coffee pot on the counter.
“You’re amazing,” Bucky comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lightly kisses your neck. He pulls away and reaches for the hash browns a few feet away from you, actually grabbing some with his hand.
“Bucky, you do know what a fork is, right?” You can’t help but laugh and shake your head at him.
“No time for forks, doll,” he manages through a mouthful of hash browns as he walks into the hallway towards the bathroom. The door shuts softly behind him.
You decide to busy yourself with cleaning-up the dishes you had dirtied from making breakfast. After turning on a playlist, you get to work, scrubbing away the dried, caked-on food. A few minutes later, a knock on the door swiftly catches your attention. Grabbing a hand towel from the drawer by to your hip, you pad down the hallway to the front door of your apartment while you dry your hands. You turn the doorknob and crack open the door as far as the chain lock will allow.
“Mom?” You blink, close the door and slide off the lock, then quickly open it again. “Mom! What are you doing here?” You smile and give her a quick, tight hug, then motion for her to come in.
“I haven’t seen your new place yet, and I thought I would stop by with these,” she reaches into her purse, pulling out a large baggie full of chocolate chip cookies.
“These look wonderful, thank you!” You plant a light kiss on her cheek and take the cookies from her. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Water? Oh, how’s Mama doing?” You lead her over to the kitchen island, walking around to the fridge.
“Coffee would be wonderful, dear,” she responds as she sits on one of the stools. “And Mama misses you, just as much as I do. Without you living so close to us, I think she’s been getting a bit more anxious and worried than usual. But I’m sure she’ll be fine soon.
“One coffee comin’ right up,” you chirp and reach for a new mug from the cupboard next to the fridge. You walk over to the pot and grab yours from earlier. “Tell her not to worry about me, Bucky and I have been having a great time in the city. Cream?” You turn around, tilting your head.
“Yes, please,” she smiles. “Oh, and where’s your bathroom? I can’t tell if it’s the long car ride or my aging body, but -”
“Oh, God, Mom, T.M.I. It’s just down the hall, first door on the right,” you wave away her thought from the air and turn back to the fridge. You swing open the door and grab the bottle of cream. You start to pour some into the first mug when you suddenly remember about Bucky. “Mom, wait -!”
But you’re too late.
“O-Oh my!” Your mother’s shrill voice carries down the hall. You drop the bottle of cream on the counter and jog over to the bathroom, stopping in the doorway. The scene before you is one that sends a mixture of horror and embarrassment racing through your body. Bucky stands in the middle of the bathroom, water still dripping from his hair and off his body as he holds his shirt from last night over his waist. Your mother is clutching the counter with one hand, clutching her chest with the other, and staring at Bucky’s nearly-naked figure in shock.
“Y/N…I know this looks weird, but - one: this isn’t what it looks like, and two: I really wish you’d told me your mother was in town.”
“Oh, M-Mom, I-I -”
“D-Don’t worry, Y/N,” she turns around, stopping in front of you. “You have a fine taste in the opposite sex,” she whispers and pats your shoulder, then brushes past you, out of the room. You lock eyes with Bucky.
“Did she -”
“Oh, trust, me, she saw everything,” Bucky mutters, trying his best to suppress a sly smirk. “The whole package.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” you groan and drag your hands down your face as you turn out of the room, softly shutting the door behind you. You inhale deeply and wander back into the kitchen to find your mother pouring coffee into a to-go mug.
“Oh, Y/N, I hope you don’t mind,” she carefully lifts the mug into the air. “I kinda figured I should, uh…get going. Mama wants to go out for a late lunch, and I really shouldn’t keep her waiting.” She starts off towards the hallway just as Bucky opens the bathroom door, walking out with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Bucky,” she stops in her tracks and nods to him. “Nice to see you again, as always. But, maybe next time, it’ll be under more, uh…appropriate circumstances?” She keeps walking, not bothering to wait for him to respond. You trail her and open the door. She stops in the doorway and looks at you, smiling, and presses a light, feathery kiss on your cheek. “Take care, darling.”
You close the door and press your back flush against it. A deep exhale escapes your tight lungs as you look back up at Bucky.
“Well…that went well,” he shrugs. You groan and drop your gaze to the floor, pinching the bridge of your nose. I’m never going to live this down.
[Summary: Jeffrey picking you up from school, and the scandal when everyone who thought he was your father, finds out he’s actually your boyfriend]
A/N: OMG YOU GUYS! I didn’t expect the response to be so insane! I appreciate all your comments, likes and reblogs. You guys are so beautiful 😭here’s part two, enjoy ;))) – okay I know I said I was going to make this super smutty, but I got another idea, so I’m breaking up the smut a bit? hehehe there’s smut here too though! don’t worry! sorry if this took longer thane expected lol
**Special shoutout to: @noodlecupcakes for helping me out in my time of need. Guys, she’s also a fantastic writer. Her Hot For Teacher fic is FIRE, I mean it’s Negan as a teacher, what more could you ask for ;) CHECK IT OUT!! Also to my amazing beta readers who give me the confidence to post my work, love you long time fam <33 @boohoolisa@niaisawallflower@stileswolfi xxxx
Jeff’s apartment was always immaculate. You would never have expected him to be such a neat freak because of his laid back personality, but now you assumed it was his surgical habits coming into play because he obsessively had to have everything in its place. Regardless, you loved coming here. Whatever hour of the day, his apartment always smelt like wood sage and sea salt. As you entered there was a long, narrow hallway that opened up to his spacious loft. The hardwood floors matched the earth toned brick wall that surrounded his living room. His color scheme was simple, black and brown with hints of red and blue to contrast. He had a large bookshelf that was filled from end to end encompassing all genres: fiction, poetry, biography, and science. Centering the bookshelf was his big screen T.V, which faced his coffee table that had a few magazines laying out and a couple of his yellow patient files. Towards the right, a smooth black marble island stood away from the wooden kitchen. The shiny, unused oven shimmered as the sunlight beamed through the high windows.
This is for the wonderful @nessiansmut on Tumblr. She unintentionally inspired this by sending me a massage gif for an ACOSAP edit this morning. Thank you so much to @highladyofdreamcourt for profreading this. I’ve been a bit more ruthless with my line editing btw so my writing might sound a bit weird atm while I’m getting used to this again (almost no -ing verbs, shorter sentences, less adverbs, who is this cause it sure as hell ain’t me?!) and feedback on the actual prose would be well appreciated if you’re into stuff like that!
He brought his hands up and up and up and massaged the muscles of her thighs and Elain’s breaths came out in time with his movements. With each pass of his hands he was getting closer and closer to the apex of her thighs and all she could imagine was the blissful moment when he would touch her. She spread her legs for him slightly and Az snickered. “Is this what you want, my love?” he asked her, passing his hand over the top of her inner thigh – so close, but not close enough.
Tags: Illyrian! Elain, smut, wing sin, Elriel, oral sex, it kinda has a plot, kinda,
Elain trudged into her bedroom in the townhouse and threw
herself face first on the plush bed. Her wings flopped pathetically over the
sides. She groaned at the feeling of the cool, luxurious silk against her hot
and aching muscles but the relief didn’t last long. Azriel walked in behind her
and chuckled at the view.
“Everything okay, love?” he asked and amusement rang in his
voice. Elain groaned and mumbled unintelligibly in the pillow without moving.
Azriel smiled softly and headed into the bathroom. He rummaged through some
cabinets and shelves until he found what he was looking for and padded back into
the bedroom. He placed a basket on the nightstand and sat down on the bed next
to Elain’s head, mindful of her outstretched wing.
“You’ll get used to it. You just need to build your strength
and learn how to control each muscle and tendon. It will become second nature
after that.” Elain grumbled some more into her pillow and huffed, clearly
annoyed at Azriel. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that, dear,” Az chuckled.
Elain turned her face to the side and rested her cheek on
the pillow, unable to keep her head up for more than a couple of seconds. She
shot daggers at him while he continued to smirk.
“I said that you can take your ‘second nature’ hogwash and
shove it in a very dark place, you cocky Illyrian.” Azriel stifled a laugh,
amused by Elain’s snarkiness and made a move to caress her cheek but she slapped
his hand away. The simple motion of raising her arm had her shoving her face
back into the pillow and groaning in pain.
She thought the biggest challenge would be adjusting to the
impossible new weight on her back, to the feeling of her wings pulling at every
muscle along her spine and dragging her towards the ground and the way they
shifted her centre of gravity. It took her weeks to manage to keep them pinned
to her back instead of dragging them on the floor and that had been with the
help of a series of belts and buckles that kept the appendages strapped to her
back and feeling more like she was carrying a heavy backpack rather than
feeling like her muscles were being pulled from her bones. After a few weeks of
training with Cassian, her muscles were strong enough to keep her wings off the
ground and close to her back without any help. But flying… flying was an
entirely different circle of hell.
She hadn’t even managed to get off the ground yet, her still
weak muscles unable to support her weight enough for her to take off. Still,
just the ground exercises she had been doing with Azriel had been enough to
exhaust her completely. She discovered that keeping her wings in the air and outstretched
was exceedingly more painful and difficult than just keeping them strapped to
her back. Azriel’s training had been relentless and he had her going through
drill after drill of tucking and extending her wings or flapping them as if she
was trying to take off when all she managed was to stir a light breeze. Her
personal favourite, however, was when he had her keep her wings outstretched
without moving, the wind pushing and tugging against the screen of membrane
until her whole body shook with the effort of keeping herself upright. And
today he had decided to use that particular torture method against her. Even
though she knew she had to learn how to use her wings or else they would just
become a liability and she knew he was trying to help her, she was too
exhausted and cranky to stop herself from snapping at him – and Azriel knew she
didn’t mean it.
Az caressed her head and ran his fingers through her silky
hair, and when she made no move to stop him, he ran his hand down the line of
her spine. He unbutoned the slits around her wings at the back of her sweat
soaked tunic and hummed softly. “Let’s get you out of these clothes, love.”
He pushed the fabric off her shoulders and placed a hand
underneath her stomach to lift her slightly in order to rid her of the garment without
making her move and Elain grumbled a thank you. He hummed in response, as he
lifted her hips next to slip her trousers off and peeled them from where the
sweat made them stick to the backs of her knees. Once undressed, Elain sighed at
the way the breeze from the open window caressed her sweaty skin. She turned
her head to the side to look at Azriel, content to lie there in just a pair of
underwear – it was nothing Az hadn’t seen before, after all.
Azriel grabbed a washcloth from the basket he had placed on
the nightstand and dipped it in the bowl of icy water adjacent to it. He wrung
out the cloth and stepped around Elain’s wings and climbed on the bed. He
straddled her hips, careful to keep most of his weight on his knees and brought
the washcloth down to the valley between Elain’s shoulder blades and she hissed
at the contact and tensed at the shock of the temperature but quickly relaxed
with a sigh, the cool temperature soothing her aching muscles.
Az ran the cool washcloth down Elain’s back, between her
wings and pressed down slowly against the tense muscles. He reached under her
wings to get to the sides of her abdomen and ran the cloth against her ribs,
stopping to soak it in more cold water every once in a while. He traced the
curve of her spine back to the nape of her neck, her shoulders and down each
arm before turning around to run it down Elain’s sore thighs and calves. Elain
relaxed further into the soft sheets with each passing of the cool washcloth
against her skin.
Imagine the reverse situation than the one we witnessed in Voyager, where Claire casually walks on Jamie in his printshop. What if it was Jamie who travelled to the XX century and ended up as Claire's patient in hospital?
Slamming the palms of her hands against the OR doors, Claire rushed into theatre. The call had come through on her pager only moments before, *luckily* she’d just been on her way out and hadn’t had to travel across the city.
“What is it, June?” She whispered to the head nurse as she plunged her hands under the tap, washing the unseen dirt from her fingers in preparation.
“RTA I think, Dr. Somewhere in the highlands though, poor chap’s being airlifted in.”
“Jesus, must be serious,” she mumbled, circling the soap in her hands as she washed away the suds.
Behind her the doors swung open once more, the sound of the heavy metal smacking against the wall reverberating through Claire’s feet and up into her bones as she turned to see her fellow surgeon, Dr Adams, stroll into the tiny clean-up room, his eyes darting around the small space.
“Ah!” He said, a little humour to his tone as he spotted Claire behind June, “there you are, Claire. It seems you’ve been requested.”
“I know,” she replied, placing her hands in the air as if to illustrate the point, “I got the page before I’d even left the building.”
Shaking his head, Dr Adams laughed, “then you’re doubly in demand,” he said, beckoning her forward as he backed out of the room, “because the fellow they’ve just brought in is asking for you too.”
Rolling her eyes, Claire brushed off the silly comment, her hands still hovering in midair. “Don’t be so daft, Dr. There are a million and one ‘Claire’s’, he could be asking for anyone!”
Winking, Dr Adams turned, tilting his head to the side so that Claire could only see his profile as the door began to close, shielding him partially from view, “aye, that maybe true, Claire, but there is only one ‘Claire Beauchamp’ around these parts, ken?”
Claire remained cemented to the spot, her mouth hanging open in confusion for a second after Dr Adams had disappeared from sight before rushing from the room and hurtling down the corridor to the ER admittance desk.
“Where did you tell June they were bringing that RTA in from?” She panted, her heart racing as she tried to calm her frayed nerves. After a short stint in Boston with Frank, it had been clear to Claire that their *epic reunion* wasn’t to last. Only a year after Brianna had been born, she had packed them both up and returned back home to Britain.
Unable to let go, they had moved into a small apartment in central Glasgow. Claire had juggled being a full time mother with her studies and eventually finished her medical training.
The staff nurse on the desk broke through her memories of the last seven years, her inquisitive tone pulling Claire from her reverie.
“Did ye hear me, Dr Beauchamp?” She whispered, seeing the far off look in Claire’s eyes as she waved her hands in front of her face.
“N-no, sorry Amy. Where?”
“Just outside Inverness, the report is sporadic,” she said, her eyes flickering from Claire back to the notes she had open on her messy desk, “says he wandered onto the road out of nowhere. The driver called it in and waited for the ambulance to arrive. Ye ken the highlands, Claire, quite barron at the best of times.”
Nodding, Claire wiped her brow and turned on her heel whispering a discrete ‘thank you’ as she rushed back towards the emergency at hand.
‘Stop it’, she screamed internally, her mind whizzing, all manner of optimistic thoughts rattling around her brain as she scuffed her work shoes against the worn linoleum, ‘who else knows you here…?”
“Maybe, just *maybe*…’ her inner voice begged, her positive side drowning out the negative one.
Stopping for just a second she scrunched her eyes together and shook her head, dispelling all thoughts as she tried to clear her mind of *anything*.
“Dr!” A male voice shouted from in front of her as she brought herself back to the present. “We need you, now!”
Scrubbing in once more, Claire forced herself to listen as the ambulance staff – who’d come in with patient– rattled off all known injuries, their hospital jargon coming to life in front of her eyes as she carefully thought through her process before entering the OR.
Fortunately the patient had been sedated on arrival, his vitals stabilised as much as possible as he was prepped for surgery.
“Are you ready, Claire?” Joe announced, his broad American accent sounding much softer than usual as the pair braced themselves for the job at hand.
RTA’s were uncomfortably unpredictable. Ignoring Dr Adams remarks, Claire began to prepare herself for any given situation.
“Ya never know, LJ,” Joe joked, trying his best to lighten the mood before seriousness set in, “could just be a bump on the backside. A quick once over and out again. Here’s to no internal bleeding!” He whispered in her ear as they opened the swing doors that led to the operating theatre.
The world seemed to stop before completely twisting on its axis as Claire stopped dead. A mop of red hair fell from the table, the curls tumbling over the slate black of the padded cot that supported his weight.
She knew from just the outline of his head; those sharp lines could only belong to one man.
As her vision blurred, Joe put his arms under hers, holding her against his chest as she lost consciousness for just a second.
“So…” he muttered, pulling Claire to one side as the supporting surgeon eyed Claire distastefully, “he *does* know you.”
“Jesus H– *Jamie*,” she spluttered, half believing it to be a dream as she reached her hand out to the unconscious Scotsman.
“Get her out of here! If she’s related, there’s no way she should be here…” Adams perked up, pointing towards the door with a knowing look on his face. “You’re alright to cover, Abernathy?” He continued, ignoring Claire completely as the monotonous beeping picked up pace.
“Of course, Dr.” Joe replied, turning Claire in the direction of the door. “I’ll make damn sure he’s alright, LJ, just go and collect yourself…please…” he begged in a subtle whisper, angling her towards the exit.
In a daze Claire snuck from the OR, her legs heavier than lead as she paused just outside the door, gulping in large amounts of fresh air as her head caught up with her body.
Jamie. It had been him. He was here.
Leaning forward, she placed her hands on her knees and continued to breath as if she was in labour.
The thought of birth brought the image of her daughter to the forefront. All of a sudden Joe’s words made perfect sense.
He’d seen the resemblance between her precocious eight year old and the man lying asleep on the table in front of them. He knew.
Walking backwards, Claire let her back hit the wall as she slid down the magnolia painted plasterboard, her arse hitting the floor with a thump as she pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes.
Hours passed as she waited. Nobody seemed fazed that she was balled up on the floor outside the hospital’s main operating theatre, and for that she was grateful. In the madness her mind had gone totally blank, unable now to conjure even the most basic of assumptions for Jamie’s surprise arrival.
On that fateful day all those years ago he definitely hadn’t been able to travel. She’d watched as he’d placed his hands upon the stone, the look of assuredness covering his face as he’d bid her return to safety. He hadn’t heard the buzzing, hadn’t felt even the slightest bit of the power.
“Claire…LJ?” Joe questioned, his face coming closer to hers as he plucked her from the floor and escorted her to the viewing window.
“I thought her was dead,” she whispered shakily, her voice cracking as she spoke.
“He wasn’t,” Joe replied, certainty lacing his tone, “he *isn’t*.”
“He’s alright?” She sighed, tears welling in her eyes as she placed her hand on the two way glass, the transparent surface frosting with her breath as she leaned her head against the cool window.
“Yes, he’ll be fine. It seems the car just clipped him, most injuries were contained to his right hand side. It saved him really, had he been facing, he might have sustained far more serious wounds.”
“Can I see him?” She questioned, her eyes looking over the blood-stained table where he’d been lain only moments before.
“One thing, LJ,” Joe asked, curiosity gnawing at him, “does she know?”
Shaking her head, Claire let the tears fall as she pictured Bree at home with the babysitter, her soft curls bouncing as she read aloud. “No. She knows Frank wasn’t…but she doesn’t know who.”
Leading her away, Joe’s lips twitched into a small smile as he pointed her in the direction of Jamie’s recovery room. “Well, I guess she will now.”
Taking a deep breath, Claire took a timid step forward, her pulse pounding in her ears as she stepped slowly towards the open door. Placing her fingers on the tepid wood of the doorframe, she placed her foot over the threshold, her eyes wide as she caught a glimpse of Jamie, wrapped up tight in the hospital’s military grade bedlinens.
Creeping over, she moved a stray curl from his forehead. He shifted, his eyes closed as he dozed.
Claire waited, her lips quivering as she did a quick inventory of the man she never thought she’d see again.
Watching, she let her fingers linger, running the pads of them over his pale, clammy skin as she re-memorised every curve. Gasping, she drew back a little as his mouth twitched into a smile, the corners of his lips pulling upwards with her touch –just like he had done all those years ago.
“I must be dead, sassenach,” he croaked, his voice startling her as she stilled her movements and stood as still as she was able, her eyes focused solely on him, “if yer here wi’ me…” pausing, Jamie shifted his head closed to Claire’s hand, silently begging her to continue her blissful ministrations.
Claire held her free hand over her heart as she felt for its telltale beat beneath her ribcage.
“…but I dinna care too much.” He finished, seeming at peace now he’d made his assumptions clear.
“Jamie,” Claire replied, her voice sounding strange to her own ears, “you’re not dead. You’re alive, here, with me in Glasgow.” Swallowing, she tickled her fingers against his warm cheek, grinning through the tears as his skin flushed red. “Oh God, Jamie. You’re alive!”
Choking on thin air, Jamie clenched his fists into the bed sheets and opened his eyes, the aqua of his irises causing Claire to lose all train of thought as they locked onto her whisky ones.
“Dhia!” He breathed, his voice light and airy with shock, “w-what’s the year, Claire?” He asked, the strain clear as he spoke, worried that he might awake at any moment and that she might disappear from his view.
Rolling her shoulders, Claire shimmied closer to Jamie, sliding her hand along his cheek, down the column of his neck and down further until she reached his hand. Holding on tight, she bent down, kissed him lightly on the forehead – her tears falling onto his flushed skin and dripping into his hair as she tried to reign in her fraught emotions – and took in one long breath.
“1955,” she said, her voice steady now as she rubbed his frigid fingers until she could feel the life flow back into them, “It’s April 1955, Jamie Fraser…and you are alive.”
The idea of mad! Flug came from that beauty! Try checking out their blog before reading! :D
“Flug!!” Snarled the annoyed voice.
The anxious scientist made his way towards his boss, tripping on his feet along the way.
“S-sorry sir! W-what is-” Dr. Flug pauses midsentence to gasp. There in Black Hat’s arms was a knocked out super hero. A wide grin stretches across the scientist’s hidden face.
“We’ve brought in another one. 5.0.5 managed to grab him after destroying half the city. The hero knocked right out after he was used as a chew toy.” Sneered Black Hat. The demon dropped the hero to Dr. Flug’s feet.
“Do… Whatever you do with those heroes. I’m surprised you manage to keep them quiet wherever you put them.” Muttered Black Hat, walking off. As soon as he laid his eyes on the unconscious hero, a million thoughts ran through his head on what he’d do. Flug immediately began dragging the body away. Dragging the body was easy for him, picking it or lifting it up long distances was another. He could only pick them up short distances. Enough to make it from the lab to a trash can out back that later burned trash periodically. I mean, what else was he gonna do with corpses? Leave them to rot and stink? He was evil, but he was not trashy, no. Flug dragged the body into the lab, and behind his desk. He glanced around, making sure he wasn’t followed. As soon as he saw the coast was clear he opened a small patch on the floor, tossing the body down, before climbing down himself. The room was dark, dimly lit by a light in the middle of the room, which shined above a glass dome over a large pit. Where Flug kept heroes to rot. He tossed the hero he had been given into the pit from a small opening in the dome before sealing it shut as he always did. He studied the hero, mumbling noted out loud.
“Hero appears to be.. Cumulus. Abilities include controlling the amount of water in the air along with weather to a small extent.” He searches around the table he had beside the pit, finding a needle beside a multitude of blood samples from different heroes from the past. He tied a small cord around his body before hopping down into the pit holding a remote and a small needle. He gets on his knees beside the sleeping hero, poking her skin with the small sharp object. As he did this, the hero squirmed with discomfort.
“Hey! Hey. Hey, sshh. It’s all fine. Doc just needs a bit of blood is all. Then we can poke you and cut you and potentially zap you until you make your way to the little gates down below!” Dr. Flug giggled softly. His voice wad smooth as silk and clear as day a polar opposite to him outside the room. He pulls the needle away, with a considerable amount of blood in the needle, the blood a grayish hue. He sighs, getting up. “Too bad too. You were such a cool hero.” Dr. Flug sighs.
As he begins walking back, the hero shoots up with loud gasp, snapping her neck towards the villain.
“you.” She spat. “Where am I!?” She raises her hand, shards of ice forming in the air at rapid speed as Flug presses a button on the remote. As the shards fly towards him, the rope around his waist pulls him swiftly out of the pit, missing the shards just barely! He slams the pit’s opening shut and giggled frantically.
“Hahaha! You almost got me there you little hero, you!!” Dr. Flug cackles. The hero stands up. “where am I!? Let me go you bastard!!” She snarls. Dr. Flug ignored her, setting the blood sample inside a vial labeled the hero’s name, setting it right along side others.
“interesting note to add! Not only can you affect the water levels in the air, you can also change temperature as well! You’re blood could make a great freeze ray!! Ohh, how exciting!” He grins.
“Let. Me. OUT!!” Roared Cumulus, shooting a multitude of ice shards at the ice. The loud thud of the ice’s impact against the seal made Flug jump with surprise. “it’s no use doll!! Impenetrable!” Sang Dr. Flug. Cumulus snarls. “So- so what!? You gonna test me? You gonna torture me? Brain wash me? Control me!?” The hero growls out. Flug taps his chin. “you know. Giving the villain, the person with the upper hand, options is not a good move. However! I will happily accept torture!!” Cheered Flug. He presses a button on the table and arms flung out the side of the pit, grabbing the hero’s arms and legs. Flug hops down yet again with the remote, walking up to the hero who’s now unable to move. She squirms and tugs at the arms trying to break free, alas it was no use. Dr. Flug walks up to her, reaching his hand out. The girl immediately flinched making Flug laugh. He lightly grabs her chin, looking closely at her face. The girl shakes her head, snapping forward to bite his fingers. “You won’t get shit out of me.” She spat. Dr. Flug chuckles slowly, his laugh chilling and dark, unlike his normal self. “Oh sweetie. What do you think I’m torturing you for? Go on. Guess.” He eggs her on.
“Info? Weaknesses? Any villain would be stupid not to want that.” She scoffs. “Not necessarily now! A smart villain tortures for info because he lacks it without others to give him the info. A GOOD villain tortures for fun because he already has all the info he needs.” Dr. Flug grins.
“What? So you’re torturing me without reason? How stupid!” Cumulus cackles.
“See now you’re learning! Evading me from my true goals! Good! Good! But you know, the thing is. When you have a reason, once that reason is reached, you no longer have a reason to hurt! Its a stopping point for pain. A way out for heroes,”
He grips her chin rougher than before, making her unable to shake him off, “See, I don’t want that way out for you. You’re trapped here. No matter. What. You. Do!” Dr. Flug spins himself, harshly kicking her dead in the face making Cumulus let out a choked roar in pain. Flug spins back around to face her, punching her on the opposite side of her face, knocking out a tooth. She spits blood onto the doctor. “Fuck. You.” She pants. “Aww! No thanks.” He hissed, running back and kicking her in the stomach. She yells scratchily, doubling over in pain, gasping for air as she hack up blood. Her body falls weak. She’d have fallen on all fours had if not been for the arms holding her in place. Flug punched her face upward, staring her dead in the eye.
“Go on now. Do something about this. Drown me, freeze me, stab me with a weak little shard!” Dr. Flug teased.
She growls and Dr. Flug bounced out of the way and as he looks away the hero lets out a scream as he hears the sound of sharpness puncturing flesh. He spins around on his heel seeing she had accidentally stabbed her self in the stomach with her own ice shard. “Ohh! That works EVERY time! You heroes are SO gullible!” Dr. Flug smiles. She feels blood dripping from the ice. “S-so you gonna k-kill me huh?” Cumulus coughed. “Damn. Here I though I’d die by a successful villain.” She chuckles weakly. “Oh but honey. I am a successful villain. The disappearance of Unit, Mr Frost, Jubilee, oh what’s his name uhh, Storm clock? Yeah that’s it.” Dr. Flug lists. “Pfft. Idiot. Everyone knows it was Black Hat who killed them.” Cumulus scoffs. Dr. Flug stiffens, before walking closer. He put his hand on the ice shard, pushing it inward making her scream. “He. Did. NOT. A good villain does not boast. A good villain. Does not get caught. A good villain. Is not. That fucking. DEMON!!” Dr. Flug roars. He clicks another button on his remote, tossing it in the air. The metal shifts and reforms and by the time it hits Dr. Flug’s palm, it’s already a destabilizer ray.
“Black Hat. Is no. Villain. He is just a cocky. Arrogant. Self absorbed. Fuck.” Flug growls past gritted teeth. Cumulus grins. “Damn. You must really hate him.” She sighs. “Yeah well he pays the money and brings in the heroes like you I get to play with.” Flug sighs, twiddling with the ray in his hand. “So. What are you gonna-” “God damn it. All this Black Hat talk has ruined the mood. You’re not fun anymore.” He pouts. He repositions his body, shooting the hero straight in the head, blood splattering across Dr. Flug’s bag and the ground. He sighs, as the arms around the girl let go and retract into the walls letting the hero’s body fall limp on the floor with a loud thud. Flug shakes his head. “These new toys get worse and worse.” Flug sighs. He digs out a key from his pockets, unlocking a hatch on the wall before dumping the hero’s dead body into the chute to slide out into the garbage. He switched his ray back into the remote, pulling himself out the pit without a care. He showed no pity, no remorse. Like a good villain. He switched out his clothes and bag for a cleaner pair before turning to head back up. As he turns, he stops dead in his tracks, staring at a wide-eyed, trembling, whimpering Dementia. Flug sighs. “How much did you see you little cretin?” He snarls. Dementia’s voice was barely above a whisper. “a-all..” She whispers. Dr. Flug shakes his head, walking up to Dementia. He switches his remote to the ray, the device making an intimidating hum as he slowly held it up under Dementia’s chin, raising her head up making her whimper with fear. “You do not speak. Of what you saw in this room. Black Hat does not know and he never will. Understood.” Dr. Flug growls. “Y-yes.” She whispers. Dr. Flug puts away the ray, patting her head. “Good pet.” He says calmly. As he walks to leave Dementia halts him. “W-wait! I-I just have one question.” She stutters out. Dr. Flug turns around, tilting his head. “why don’t you ever act like this in front of the rest? Wouldn’t black hat.. Y'know. Like it?” She asks. Flug shakes his head.
“If a person has a double life, it is to protect the people in the primary life. People have faces. Different ways to act under different situations. No one is sane when no one is looking, Dementia. Besides. Don’t you think if I acted this way for you all, I would have shot that demon in the head by now?” Dr. Flug replies. “Come now. You have your jobs and I have mine.” He smiles. They get out of the room, and Flug shuts the door against the floor. As soon they get out, they hear black hat aggressively calling out for Flug.
“FLUG!! WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU!??” he screeches. Flug sighs, looking over at the scarred girl beside him.
“remember. No telling~.” He winks. He takes a deep breathe before running for the door. “C-coming boss! O-oh gosh!!” He calls out, flustered.
I know it’s not much but I tried to break it down as best I could for those of you asking about my brushes I use and “how” I do my lines. Basically I only use these three brushes for pretty much the bulk of the painting/drawing and only use texture brushes as sort of like “sprinkles” after. The sample painting I did in the brushes image is only using those three brushes and no textures!
When applying my lines in PSCC, I “dab” my lines, applying my pressure where I want the lines to be darkest and thickest, going over the lines over and over to build up the taper manually. I find that PS doesn’t do a very good job with doing tapered lines and tends to get jittery if you just do one solid “swoop”, so by dabbing my lines and building them up (like you would with paper and pencil) is very effective! Also it is helpful to do lines this way if you have shaky hands and rely on the stabilizer in sai. Don’t be afraid to erase parts of your lines that are too thick! No one said lines had to be all one stroke :) If it works it works! Shape the lines to your liking and if that means erasing, then do it!
Also when applying my “hatching” when I shade my sketches, I do very quick wrist flicks back and forth with light pressure where I am barely touching the tablet (or cintiq in my case). One thing I will say is you DO NOT need a cintiq to do this, you just need a pretty decent tablet with good pressure sensitivity. I don’t think a cheapy tablet will give you the desired sensitivity to really have control over your strokes.
This is just how I do it, but just playing around with brush settings and practicing lines is really the best way to get your own feel for what you want your lines to look like :) Hope this helps and answers some questions!
And they are all just modified basic round brushes that are default in the program, nothing fancy :) Just select the round brush, turn off “tilt controls” (I don’t use it ever and I think it’s annoying) and just edit the brush setting, save each brush as a new brush and you’re set!
ok but think of the shenanigans dancer/gymnast Shiro would get up to in a game of Dodgeball. 'SHIRO S TOP' 'that's not how this works.' 'QUIT BEING SO EXTRA' 'I don't know what you're talking about :3c'
“Can we stop introducing Allura to sports?” Lance called, hands on his knees as he panted. “This is the worst one yet. This is school yard torture. I object. Geneva Conventions. This has to fit in there somewhere.”
Shiro rolled his eyes and patted Lance on the back. “It’s not that bad, and- oh, heads up.” Before he even finished the sentence, a bouncy ball beaned Lance on the shoulder with a twang.
From the other side of the room, Pidge raised her arms triumphantly. “Out!”
“I was resting!” Lance objected, mouth falling open. “You little cheater!”
Pidge only shrugged, picking up the ball as it rolled back over the line. “You didn’t call time out.”
“It was kind of implied,” Hunk offered, and Pidge shot him a flat glare. “What? It was!”
Keith rolled his eyes. “Out or in?” He asked Shiro. “Before this becomes an argument.”
Considering, Shiro glanced at the other three, then at Lance’s pout. “Out. Sorry, Lance. But you can switch over to the other side instead.”
Lance froze, mouth open mid-objection, then frowned. “Then it’s all of us against you.”
Hello life ruiners. :) For Modern Glasgow AU, imagine possessive Claire at a hospital celebration for her after taking her oath. Possibly Leghair is involved again... And we know what that does to Dr. Fraser. #winkwink
Anonymous asked: Would love to find out what happens on the day that Claire graduates from medical school (with Jamie, Murtagh and the children in tow!). Thank you!
Modern Glasgow AU
Soon-to-be-Dr. Claire Fraser squinted at the line of
classmates lined up in the auditorium hallway, chattering idly as they killed
the thirty minutes before the ceremony began.
Almost all the way to the front of the line – no longer
at the very font, now that she was a Fraser rather than a Beauchamp. Right in
front of an exit stairway the line sank – two young women perched in twin hard
plastic chairs, engrossed in conversation.
Both heads swiveled upwards, irritated.
“What letter is this? I’m Claire Fraser. I know I don’t have to go all the
way to the front – ”
“I’m Malva Christie,” the brunette replied. “And this is
Geneva Dunsany. You’re probably behind us.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Claire smiled tightly, suddenly
feeling very tired and not in the least bit sociable.
“Pleasure,” Geneva replied automatically. “Are you a
nurse like us?”
“No – I’m graduating from the medical program. I’m planning
to be a surgeon.”
“Hmm.” Malva tilted her head, turning away – idly scanning
Claire mentally counted to five.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Malva, Geneva – but would one
of you mind letting me take a seat? It’s not exactly easy for me to stand for
long periods these days.”
“Oh – um, sure.” Geneva shrugged and rose, moving to
stand on Malva’s other side. Claire unceremoniously plopped down, stretching
her legs and resting her hands on the eight-month swell of her second daughter.
“Thank you,” Claire smiled at the younger woman. “If I
may say so – you don’t sound like you’re from Glasgow. I’m originally from
Geneva shrugged. “I’m from the Lake District – followed a
loser boyfriend to Glasgow.”
“She’s being modest,” Malva chimed in. “She has a *thing*
for gingers, and that man was no exception.”
“Oh, aye,” Malva continued, as Geneva blushed. “She loses
all sense when she sees one. Strangest thing.”
Now Malva squirmed in her seat, and Claire politely
turned away. Silently she watched fellow graduates mill around in the hallway,
trying to find their place, laughing and joking, slapping each other on the
She had made her own joyful farewell not too long before,
kissing Faith’s tiny brow and then Jamie’s cheek before he and Murtagh stole
away to their seats.
Pulling out her phone, she checked the time – fifteen
minutes to go.
Then five text messages – selfies with different
combinations of Jamie, Faith, and Murtagh. And one from Jamie, full of hearts.
How she loved her family.
How she couldn’t believe she had finally made this day!
What with all the sacrifices she and Jamie had made, both personally and
financially – and then somehow figuring out how to balance caring for an infant
and finishing her coursework – it was truly a miracle that she was able to
graduate with her class.
“…see that ginger stunner when we arrived, though? I ken
ye’ve sworn off them – ”
“Of *course* I did, Mal. I’ve eyes in my head.”
“Only, I was thinking – maybe you could approach him,
afterwards? He seemed to be alone…”
Claire bit the inside of her lip, absently rubbing her
belly. Graduation gowns weren’t exactly designed for pregnant women – she counted
four separate beads of sweat running down her chest and back.
Bairn Two was especially active…
“Oh my God! He’s here!!” Malva squeaked.
“Shut up! Oh my God,” Geneva fidgeted with her hair – a useless
exercise when wearing a mortarboard. “Can you talk to him? Get him to stop?”
“Don’t worry – I’ll take care of that.” Claire waited
confidently, and then –
“*There* you are!” Jamie – effortlessly casual in his
best Barbour shirt and dark jeans – parted the line of soon-to-be graduates and
knelt before Claire. “Thank God ye found a seat. Do ye need anything? Water?
Snack? Faith just fell asleep, so – ”
“I’m fine – we both are.” Claire reached out a hand.
Jamie took it, kissed it. Vibrating with joy.
So happy to be sharing this moment.
“All right!” A uniformed usher materialized, waving at
random. “Graduates! Places please!”
Jamie rose and bent to kiss her forehead.
He extended one arm, and she gripped it, and let him help
She tilted her chin – and he gave her a good and proper
“I’ll see you soon – Dr. Fraser.”
And he darted away.
Claire turned to face forward – and a gaping Malva and
A/N: This is a little birthday fic for the Choi Twins! I also have it posted on Ao3 and ff.net if you want to read it there. Thanks, and I hope you like it~
TW: Heavy themes of child abuse in the first half
Saeyoung waited until he heard the droning snore of his drunk mother before even daring to crack open one eyelid. He propped himself up on his elbows. They ached against the hardwood floors, but he ignored it and strained his ear.
He released a short breath before pushing himself onto his feet. Using his thick socks as a buffer, he carefully maneuvered his way past his mother’s resting place on her mattress. He paused and looked behind at it. He wondered what it would feel like to sleep on one. Would it be warmer than the sheet he slept on at night? Or maybe she stayed warm because of the fluffy looking blanket.
He shook the fantasy from his mind and proceeded to his destination. He had spent weeks preparing for this—memorizing where the floor bent, where it creaked, and where it was slippery enough to glide over instead of step on. Finally, he made it to the closet.
He cringed when the door let out a high-pitched squeak, but it didn’t seem to disturb his mother. He entered the closet, leaving it slightly open so the moonlight could guide his way. “Saeran,” he called softly.
There was no response. Saeyoung creeped forward, hands outstretched. His fingers brushed through a scruff of hair. He kicked the door open a little more so he could see his brother. Saeran didn’t stir from the contact. His head remained leaning against his slouched shoulder, his mouth a little ajar.
Series Note: This is gonna be a series where Bucky is dating a Tall!Reader and Steve is dating a Small!Reader. Two separate stories but named the same thing. I’ll be updating this when I can, I’m mainly focusing on Bucky x Tall!Reader more but I have a few ideas for Steve x Small!Reader. Summary: You’re a new Avenger, Natasha’s friend. You’re taller than most people, most men, and that intimidates them usually. Only Bucky takes a shine to you and you don’t know how to act when he becomes shy and nervous around you; thinking he’s intimidated by your height and strength. Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Swear words and height shaming (? is that a thing)
Got this idea from my friend and her boyfriend. When asked to be tagged for this you’re asking to be tagged for both Steve AND Bucky stories, please do not request to be tagged for one or the other, as I am tagging for the whole series which includes both their stories. - Rosalee
You had always been a little taller than your friends growing up. As a child it was never mentioned, simply a little growth spurt, to begin with, all your friends would catch up with you, eventually. Then when you hit your teens and puberty settled you had shot up. You were taller than most boys and all of your friends; it was no longer ‘normal’ or a ‘growth spurt’. The high school boys didn’t fancy or like girls taller than them and the girls were always laughing at you. You were lanky and skinny, just bumbling around the school corridors like a ‘sasquatch’ they’d call you.
When you finally left school and going to University you were already on the six-foot mark. You had moved away from your hometown and people seemed more welcoming to you, you didn’t get any boyfriends but you had friends, people that didn’t bully you for being tall. Having a boyfriend was the least of your troubles but you always knew it was because of your height. You stayed away from heels, despite the fact they make your legs look great and you tried not having friends below five-foot-five because smaller people make you look taller. The taller you are the worse you are; so you had grown up to believe.
Men had a difficult time wanting to be with you, especially if you were significantly taller than them. They were brought up to be tougher, taller and manly, with you as a girlfriend it defeats the purpose of all that. Women are meant to be petite, graceful and fragile, and you simply didn’t fit that mould, therefore, you were without love or romance. It shouldn’t bother you but it does.
The problem was you didn’t look like those runway models either, you aren’t skinny, you’re average with a toned stomach and wide waist (your mother would say “good baby-bearing hips”), you also had thick thighs from all the mountain climbing and training you do. You went from lanky to lean, some would say “built like an Amazon Warrior Princess”, not that many men found that attractive.
“You gonna stare at that target all day?” You were snapped out of your thoughts by Natasha; you turned and tilted your head down at your fiery haired friend. “What’s up?”
You had met Natasha a few years back when SHIELD was still kicking and you were just part of the Tactical Team for her and Steve Rogers. You became fast friends, which led to now; you being part of the Avengers, your skills and agility proving useful on most missions. You fought differently to Nat; she used precision and graceful, ballet, moves in her fighting style. You opted for brute force; you packed a mean swing and used your strength rather than quickness to fight, almost like Captain America but with a graceful twist to it.
“Nothing,” you tried to lie, “just got a few things on my mind.” You shrugged, it wasn’t the entire truth but it wasn’t a lie either, you could never lie to Nat.
Natasha cocked an eyebrow but smirked. “Bucky has been looking for you, by the way.” She grinned as you looked away from the target, once again, back to her with curiosity. “Wanted to train with you today,” she toyed lightly.
She knew you had a thing for Bucky, she knew before you even did, of course. Steve brought him in a few months ago, he was a little timid and shy but he eventually opened up, becoming more of a valuable member to the team. You gave him a little space because you didn’t want to intrude on his time or his healing process. Eventually, he started to come to the gym and would usually watch you train before just starting to spar with you.
You had an easy friendship with the man. Only he was a few inches shorter than you, you being six-foot-four and Bucky just hitting the six-foot mark, it was noticeable but he never made a comment on the fact he had to tilt his chin up or the fact your hands are nearly as big as his own.
“Thought he was training with Sam today?” You asked nonchalantly.
Natasha refrained from an eye roll and opted for crossing her arms instead. “He was meant to but decided he wanted to train with you instead,” she huffed, “you going to go?” You looked down at her, her only being five-foot-five.
“I suppose I have to,” you placed the gun down with a light thud and shrugging your leather jacket back on, you glanced at the sly red-head. “What are you planning, Romanoff?” You asked with suspicion.
“Nothing, Y/N, never you mind.” She toothily grinned as you left the shooting range in the Avengers Base.
You finally made it to the gym, already changing into workout clothes; a tank top and some leggings. You see both, Steve and Bucky, over by the weights each equally pushing each other to prove they’re stronger than the other. You chuckled at them before walking over and standing by their heads, resting hands on your hips and looking down.
“What’s the award title ‘Biggest Loser’?” You laughed as Steve chuckled and Bucky jumped at the suddenness of your voice.
You shocked Bucky so much that he lost his grip on the bar he held above his head, his metal hand slipping and the weight coming to drop on his neck, this would be how he died; embarrassing himself in front of you. Before that could happen you grabbed the cool metal bar, holding it up and stopping it from crashing down on his neck. From where he laid he could see your arms tense, your face in full concentration at keeping the almost double his own body weight off of him.
He slid out from underneath the bar, sitting on the bench and panting, he turned just in time to watch you readjust your grip on the metal bar and begin to use it. Dropping the metal bar to your thighs with your arms straight, little tension or strain, before you hoisted it back up to your neck and you puffed out air, you did this five times before setting the bar down with a bright grin.
“Such a show-off,” Steve snickered at you placing his own weights away before sitting up. “Thought you were in the shooting range for the afternoon?” Bucky watched as Steve stands up, he stands two inches shorter than you, crossing his arms the same time as you do; it’s uncanny how you both do that, you both work similarly on the field too.
“Natasha said that Barnes wanted to spar with me, so here I am.” You shrugged as Bucky frowned, you uncrossed your arms at his face, “you did, right?”
Bucky becomes nervous. His cheeks felt hot and so did his neck; you raised your eyebrows as Bucky began to mutter to himself, you glanced at Steve who was trying not to laugh at his best friend. It takes almost a full minute till Bucky actually replies to you.
“Uh-I’m fine,” he mumbles looking away from you and you bite your lip, nodding stiffly. Bucky stands up and walks away to different gym equipment away from you.
Steve sighed. “it’s fine, Steve. I get it; it happens a lot, more than I care to admit.”
“Men feeling emasculated around me because I’m taller, stronger, than them. I get why Bucky is like that around me, it’s fine. He wants to feel in control and have power now, being around me doesn’t give him that” Steve grimaces at you for a second, you look far too chilled to be saying stuff like that, especially when he knows how Bucky really feels for you.
Steve shakes his head, “it’s not like that with Bucky.” You rolled your eyes and begin to walk away, “honestly, Y/N, Bucky likes you. He just isn’t very good with the whole… feelings and being open about them bit, yet.”
“Sure Steve,” you sarcastically retort. “I’ve been dealing with that type of behaviour since I was twelve, guys becoming twitchy and intimidated by me, like women can’t be tall or stronger than them. Don’t defend Bucky’s actions, it’s fine, he’s the only guy that I’ll let it slide, for now.” You turn swiftly, your H/C hair snapping behind you as you walk out of the gym.
Steve turns to his best friend who was on a treadmill, “Bucky, you’ve got to tell Y/N how you feel.”
“No way, she’ll laugh at me,” the man grumbles and refuses to meet his best friends stern glare. “Besides she doesn’t like me, I’m not exactly dating material, Steve.”
The blond rolls his eyes so hard it almost gives himself a headache. “Trust me; you need to speak with her. She thinks you’re intimidated by her because of the fact she’s taller than you,” Bucky momentarily stops running and almost falls off the machine, his eyebrows furrowed in question. “She’s had to deal with guys- ask her yourself, bro.” Steve snapped before walking off to the punching bags.
Bucky presses the button a few times before the treadmill slows to a stop; he grabs his towel and stalks out of the gym. Heading to your room, the full intention of finding out why you think he’s intimidated by you.
When he finally reaches your room takes a deep breath before knocking. It’s a few seconds before the door opens, you’re still in your gym wear, he can tell because he’s staring at the floor where he can see the Nike white trainers. Slowly he drags his eyes up to meet yours, chin tilting upwards due to standing a little closer to you than he intended. E/C eyes meeting his clear blue ones, only your eyes are glassy, watery almost. A slight redness forming around them, indicating you had been rubbing at them.
“Are you crying?” He asked in disbelief. He had never seen you cry; you often let out any emotion through sparring or training. This was unusual and different, an emotion he hadn’t dealt with before, not with anyone else, at least.
Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “What so I can’t cry now?” Your raised voice made Bucky flinch backwards, “What because I’m big and tough I don’t cry? Well, I do. I may walk around here like I’m one of the guys but I’m a girl, Bucky, I have feelings and they get hurt just like everybody else’s around here.” You snapped, quickly wiping away the now angry tears that fell down over your cheeks.
“I didn’t mean it like that- I didn’t- I’m sorry?” He tried and you scoffed at him. “No, not what I meant. I mean, Steve told me that you think I’m intimidated by you because you’re a girl who is tall, I’m not. –“ He stopped when he sees you cross your arms, eyes a blaze as you glared at him, as if he had just offended you in some way.
“Oh, I see,” He frowns at your tone of voice, condescending pitch. “You aren’t intimidated by me because I’m a girl. So, if I was a guy that’s taller than you, you would be intimidated?” He stumbled to find an answer to that question. “You should just go, really. I’m not in the mood to be looked down to- I mean up- whatever.” You slammed your door and slumped against it, tears falling freely now that Bucky couldn’t see you.
(Because this was in my drafts and I can’t add tags, have this till I can figure out a way to get my laptop working again. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience I’ve caused, I really wanted my vamp!Bucky series up but I can’t add the tagging list. This was beta read, unfortunately, this isn’t my edited version because I can’t get on my laptop! - Rosalie)