#janniebug

62. Fingertips smudged in blue inkShe draws on countless pages, over and over again -- redesigning an old suit. She adds another layer then drags her pen over the page, crumbling the page before moving onto the next page -- clean and clear. She starts the sketch over, draws a new figure, brushes her fingers on the edge of to smudge out a shape of shadows. Her tongue pokes out along her bottom lip as she drops the pen and moves for her charcoal pencil. She drags darker lines now, down and over, back and forth. Her hands are a mess, she is a mess of smudged fingers and colored wrists from charcoal dust.It’s barely dawn. She’s been up for hours, unable to sleep, unable to relax until she redesigns this suit to perfection. A yawn from the opposite side of the bed doesn’t even draw her attention away from her sketchpad. She keeps drawing until a warm arm snakes itself around her waist and pulls her in. The sudden movement makes her mess up -- a dark line cuts through her drawing on accident, “Ah!” She gasps and he laughs lazily into the pillow.“Janet, it’s four in the morning,” He mutters, thumb stroking her side in slow lazy circles.“Then you should be sleeping,” She explains and sighs reaching for a clean sheet of paper to start over -- again.“What are you doing?” He asks finally sitting up. Steve sets his chin on her shoulder and looks over onto the sketch pad.“Creating your new suit,” She hums, proud of herself. “Since your last mission in Bucharest left you with bullet wounds, I decided to revamp it. Don’t worry dear, vintage always comes back in style.” She teases him and he scoffs.“Am I vintage?” “Well, you’re not exactly modern.” SEND ME ONE OF THESE + AN OTP

80. “Teach me?”She’s brushing her fingers over the edge of the chair and he’s counting strokes. On odd strokes, she misses the arm of the chair and touches his own. It’s only on odd ones, it’s soft and even, faint enough to be excused but hard enough to be burned in to his muscle memory. They’re held up in his townhouse. She’s wrapped up in a wool blanket provided by his nosy landlady, and yet she still looks threatening, still holds a power over him he can’t quite place. After what seems like an eternity, he moves forward and drags his pen across a page, drawing a little note here and there, climbing it up the ridge of lines he’s drawn out. Another stroke of her fingers, another stroke down his arm. All the hairs on his arm raise and electricity fires across his nerves. He is alive with a beating heart matching the pace of a war drum. His skin burns with every drag of her nails, he feels Dante venturing into the Inferno just for her. He stops his scribbling for an odd stroke, but it never comes. She’s stopped her strokes, stopped the pattern. A moment passed and he pulled his pen away from the paper, glancing over his shoulder at her curiously, she was watching his hands intently. She moved up to the edge of the chair, practically leaning over the arm of it. The blanket slipped over her shoulders and she was focused on the paper, not him. “How do you do that without an instrument?” She asked, breaking the silence in the house. He paused for a moment, pen hovering against the paper for a moment longer before he scribbled another note and felt his lips twitch up in to a small smile.“Have I done something that mystifies even you?” His words are drawn out slow and low and he watches out of the corner of his eyes as she turns her dark head curiously, studying him like a predator much before it snatches up it’s pray. Her lips twist up for a moment, “Music without an instrument is quite a feature. Is it even a song?” He doesn’t look up at her just yet, “It could be.”“And if it’s not?” She challenges him, her voice is playful but still sharp as ever. He doesn’t back down, instead he pushes himself out of the chair and in one flourish, reaches for the old violin by the stacked shelves. She settles back in her chair, legs pulled up under her. She looks younger than he’s ever seen her before, hair down and blanket pulled around her shoulders. With practiced fingers he pulls the violin up, places his chin and looks down at the music on the table, drawing the bow along the strings. It’s a slow drag, notes filling the air and by the time he finishes the impromptu concert she’s practically on the edge of her seat, fingers touching his hand written music.He pulls the violin away just in time to hear her whisper, “Teach me?” Send Me A Ship + A Prompt

She looks at him and he knows she’s calculating the next seven moves on the chessboard. Her eyebrow raises and her lips curve up and he knows she found her finishing move, the one that will stop his heart, leave him scratching his messy head. He doesn’t give her the satisfaction though, instead draws his attention to her nails and down along the edge of her shirt where she’s worrying the skin back and forth, missing something. Holmes makes a comment of her missing bracelet and she shoots back, that there is no bracelet, leaving him to scramble as she stands and shrugs on a coat. Irene stoops over the arm of his chair and presses her painted nails in to the fabric as her lips press into his cheek, leaving behind a smudge of red as she says her goodbye, giving him a glimpse of a red wrist with new ink; coordinates for the final rendezvous. Send Me A Ship + 1 Word

She’s falling, falling hard with crimson streaking down the side of her face, carving lines over the dirt and grime of the battlefield. Her short hair sticks to her forehead and her lips part with a shout, but it’s lost somewhere in her throat. The com in her ear crackles, help is coming, help is skyrocketing towards her. A broken wing and punctured lung is all she has to show for the long day as she lands roughly into a solid mass. His mask is gone, his lip is busted but he still manages to smile at her, even manages to stroke his thumb down the line of her bottom lip whispering something only she can hear as help is on the way.Send Me A Ship + 1 Word 

ah yes! I approve of all these things. and totes need to go back to jungle jims. <3

exactly!  

i’m the most positive person on this whole darn site, everything has good in it as I say 

Sooo many questions!  H’okay!2. Shy! Introverted – nothing new here.12.   (A) Queen of Peace - Florence & The Machine (B) What’s Up - 4 Non Blondes © I of the Storm - Of Monsters & Men (D) Never Stop - Safety Suit (E) Budapest - George Ezra 22.  I would love to go to Egypt. Or back to Italy. 32. Uh, I have no idea? I mean, I would love to meet several but I don’t think I could be intimate with them. I would probably end up laughing or quoting movies. – Gal Gidot, Jeremy Renner, Dan Stevens, Zoey Deutch.42. Reading! Hahaha, or possibly so deep in thought it’s ridiculous I could be in Wonderland.52. I would like to be a little slimmer – but overall I would probably change my introverted nature. I would love to be more outgoing and less anxiety filled when I do go out. 62. Hahaha, I’m literally the only sibling of my family who wasn’t arrested.72. Pink & Gray82. Casablanca 92. Not at the moment. I’m pretty anti-arguments.102. All the time, but can’t change it now.112.  Last cried in front of my roommate over a movie. She thought I was losing my mind.122. No. Hell no.132. Uhh, possibly guyofhawks was the last deep conversation I had. 142.  April, when it’s starting to get hot but there’s the spring breezes. Responses to this: [ X ]