#u can cut out 100% of his dialogue and not only will u not get an impact but ull get a better less annoying story

[sebek-zigbolt]

I see ppl being sad that grim ssr is running now with glo mas but I just hate grim SO much w ALL my heart <333 so if im mad abt anything its him having an ssr in the 1st place. Oh and being rollos DUO of all things.

#i hate him so much i hate him his dialogue ruins the tone of ANY scene hes in #plus SO unfunny #we have THREE other gluton types that r better at it and funnier than him #he has TWO jokes n both r bad n annoying #he ruins serious moments #he ruins exposition by asking the STUPIDEST shit #he even ruins FUNNY moments bcause whatever input he has is sO unfunny that it detracts frm the joke happening #couldt we get a Silent mascot #just be a cute cat #he already is basically that cat mascot frm cardcaptor at least dont actively try to be WORSE #like fr glutton n they didnt even change the colors #n his voice... why did they direct it like that.... #i try to shut up abt characters i hate bcause theres a few but like who CARES abt who i hate i want to talk abt characters i LOVE #BUT GRIM JUST I HAVE BEEF WITH. SHUT UP. HE TAKES U OUT OF THE STORY LIKE IMMEDIATELY #u can cut out 100% of his dialogue and not only will u not get an impact but ull get a better less annoying story #like twst writing has so many issues but being unfunny is NOT one of them #the humor is 💯 #consistently good #or it WOULD be if grim would SHUT HIS FUCKING MOUTH #text

[breathlesslink]

Chapter Four — Truth

[chapter warnings: cursing, dark past, hints at depression/grief, death topics]

t.o.c ; << | >>

a/n: hi everyone thanks for being so patient w me i know i’m bad at updating regularly idk what my issue is. also this chapter is for sure just a filler to get the reader’s backstory and motivation it’s literally ALL dialogue thank u love u

Pissed was an understatement.

You knew your sleep felt too fulfilling. You felt it in your dreams that you'd been sleeping for too long.

Link had chosen not to wake you for your night shift, opting to sit on a stool next to your bed with a book lying around the stable the entire night.

You felt off, wondering why chirping birds had woken you from your slumber instead of Link, before shooting up in the bed and looking around. It was getting light outside, the clock on one of the support beams of the stable reading "6:20".

Beside you, Link dog-eared the book page and tilted his head innocently. "Are you alright?"

"You!" Your head whipped around to him, "You didn't wake me up!"

"You needed sleep."

"So do you, asshat."

Link shook his head, putting the book down and standing up to stretch. "I slept for 100 years. I'm fully rested still."

You rolled your eyes. "As if."

Still slightly seething, you kicked the blankets off, shivering as the cool air hit your legs. You quickly put your socks and shoes on, grabbing your bag and getting ready to travel. Link was already outside readying the horses, and he handed you an apple for breakfast.

Taz and Epona seemed to follow the trails by heart now, which made it incredibly easy for Link to multitask looking at the paper map. He lifted the sheet up to you, pointing at a specific spot that was marked with an X.

"This mark is supposed to be Zora's Domain." He explains, "It'll probably take a while to get there, especially if we try to just catch stables to rest. Hate to break it to you, but we might be coming upon our first camp."

You groaned, half playfully and half not. Who could blame you, though?

"Goodbye, warm bed." You slumped into Taz's neck, earning a small chuckle from Link. "Are we going to the tower first? To get the actual map on your little gadget?"

"The Sheikah Slate? Yes." Link squinted at the map for a second time. "Before that, though. I want to head back to Impa to talk to her about my memories, so maybe we can take a shortcut through Kakariko to cut down time."

"We'd have to turn back and go down the other trail." You replied.

"It's like, a 10 minute ride back. You'll be fine."

"I'm not complaining!" You gasped, feigning offense. "If anything I'm, uh, rejoicing."

Link quirked an eyebrow. "About what? You can't be that excited to spend more time with me." He teased. The longer you spent with him, the more sassy and talkative he's become. Your only choice is to rival his sarcasm with your own.

"You're gonna make me hurl." You shot back, "In actuality, I want to ask her some things too." Sensing Link's silence as a motion to continue, you did. "She had to have known my parents before my siblings and I got taken. We lived in Kakariko. So maybe she knows something about the night it happened or anything that could lead me to Hiro."

You were silently kicking yourself in the rear for not thinking of it before, when you were originally in Kakariko. If Impa had been the Chief 100 years before your existence, and has been since then, then surely she knew of your family.

Link nodded, not pushing further. He'd figured out by now that your past was something you weren't ready to talk about. You both turned the horses around and headed back up the road, basking in a comfortable silence as you traveled towards the village.

———

Impa spoke to Link first.

You were allowed to stay in the room this time, as Link had told her you were traveling partners. It was interesting to watch from the sidelines as the two spoke of Link's missions— the Divine Beasts, Ganon, regaining his memories.

It all seemed so overwhelming to you, and yet Link stood firm. Ready to give his life again for a country he didn't even remember. You admired him for it.

It made your own mission seem smaller in comparison, so when Impa sent Link out to run errands for her for you to speak alone, you felt like a bug. Just waiting to be squashed under scrutiny. But that insecurity faded quickly as the door shut behind Link and Impa regarded you with a warm, familiar smile.

"It's been quite a long time, hasn't it?"

Relief flooded your system. She remembered you.  "Yeah." You let out a breathy laugh, "It has. I, uh, actually have some questions. About that night."

"It seems as if trauma does not discriminate with repressed memories, does it? Whether it be an abduction or a hundred-year-old injury."

Pressing your lips together, you agreed once more. You struggled to make the words come out of your mouth. Too many questions floated through your head, and you couldn't choose which to ask first. As if sensing your unease, Impa spoke again.

"I'm assuming you'd like to know what happened."

You nodded. "It's been so long. Even if I did remember it all, it would be fuzzy."

"You were eleven whenever the Yiga attacked Kakariko. Your brother was eight, and your sister was only two." Impa started from the beginning, her eyes continuously assessing your reaction. "They came in the middle of the night, and lit the town ablaze. The people of Kakariko evacuated and met up at the mouth of the mountain, where the entrance to the town is, and did a headcount. Your entire family was nowhere to be found."

"What happened to my parents?" You were aware of the implications, and figured they had moved on from such a traumatic event in their life. Perhaps they had moved to another village to escape.

Impa averted her eyes, which confirmed the worst for you. "We found their bodies, but we could not find you three. We thought that perhaps the flames burned so hot that you all were gone without a trace, but soon after, a few Sheikah soldiers went undercover at the Yiga hideout for intel. Calamity Ganon is close to being back, so the Yiga have been more active.

We found files pertaining you— they had been watching for years. Waiting for a moment to strike. We wanted to get you out, but the Yiga had you all so heavily guarded. It was nearly impossible. One day, however, another mission went undercover and couldn't find you. That's when we heard of the escape. I figured it was only a matter of time until one of you came home."

You didn't speak for a moment, letting it all sink in. They were actively trying to find you. "Why us? We were just kids."

"100 years ago, before Calamity Ganon's return, your great grandfather was the top researcher of Sheikah technology. He worked alongside the King of Hyrule, Princess Zelda, and myself to prepare for the battle ahead." Impa smiled fondly, as if she was remembering the good times with your ancestor. "For some reason, the Guardians just listened to him. They activated at his touch while dead to everyone else. They were finicky things— still dangerous, even back then. And yet they'd listen to everything your great grandfather did.

The same went for your grandmother, and then your mother. My guess is that the Yiga believed one of you possessed the same gift of controlling such uncontrollable energy that our ancient technology contained. They wanted you on their side, so they could easily control it whenever the time came."

Reeling. That was the only word to describe your mental state.

You'd spent years— captive and free— wondering why. Why such things happened to you, how you played into these little plans that the Goddesses gave you. It almost felt comforting, though, when there was doubt. An idea that the Yiga grabbed you for no reason, or had the wrong people.

"How did you recognize me? It's been eight years."

"You're the mirror image of your father, dear." Impa gestured to the right of her, to a picture on the wall. You cautiously walked towards it, nervous to see whatever the frame held, yet fear was soon replaced with an entire flurry of emotions. 

Happiness, nostalgia. Grief. 

It was a family of five-- your family. You held Kimi against your hip, smiling a toothy, child-like grin as the baby version of your sister sucked her thumb. Hiro sported his signature pout, the picture taken while he was in the middle of rolling his eyes. Very typical. 

What stuck out the most, however, was your parents. Their eyes were shining so brightly, and their smiles matched. Your mom was looking at you and your siblings with absolute adoration. Your father looked at her in the exact same way. 

Your heart ached.  

They loved you so much. They probably gave their lives protecting you, Hiro, and Kimi until the very end. 

"This was taken only days before the incident." Impa explained, "It hangs as a memorial, but I want you to take it. Keep it as your own memorial now, in remembrance of not only your family, but also for your journey." 

"My family isn't entirely gone. I  found Kimi, just not Hiro." 

Impa sighed. "I cannot help you there, but he is out there. An old lady knows it all." There was a twinkle in her eye as she winked. "Another thing. Rely on Link more. He speaks highly of you." 

"He does? I haven't done anything, though--"

"100 years ago, Link was regarded as the Silent Knight." Impa all but interrupted you, presumably to keep you away from the route of self-doubt. "He never spoke to anyone. It took the Princess ages to even get a sentence out of him. I know not if it has to do with him simply forgetting who he used to be, or your presence, but he is open. Talkative. Relaxed. I saw him smile for the first time during our talk today, and it was when he was telling a story about you. Link is opening up to you, and it would help your journey so much if you did the same." 

You looked back at the picture frame on the wall. At first, you felt so much despair thinking about the family you'd lost. You hadn't even thought about what you gained. 

Your family in Gerudo-- Romah, Olu, Ashai, even the newest Chief had made your acquaintance during your stay. Impa. Link. 

People were there to support you, even if they weren't your family. They were found, not given, and chose you. Going out of their way to love you. 

And as you took the picture out of the frame and folded it into your pocket, thanking Impa for her time, you smiled. A real, genuine smile. The first one in a very long time. 

"And don't forget to pull your collar up on the back of your neck!" 

#botw link #breath of the wild #breath of the wild x reader #daruk #fanfic #link x reader #botw link x reader #loz #loz x reader #loz link #loz link x reader #legend of zelda #legend of zelda x reader #zelda #revali #urbosa #sidon #mipha

[mbabol]

hadesgame experiences sofar:

ares has continued to try to fuck my stepmom.

athena may also want to fuck my stepmom

endgame romances with megaera vs thanatos is megaera having exhausted most of her storylines so she just shows up to chill in the lounge and make snippy little comments and fuck. meanwhile thanatos is embroiled in so many storylines that more than a 100 runs in hes STILL showing up to argue with zagreus and then bounce. he has NOT fucked since the first time.

turns out gods get progressively angrier the more you ignore them in godcompetitions. in dialogue and in the difficulty of their encounters. poseidon is fucking furious at me. i htink i will choose him when he shows up again

BOULDY SPOILERS UNDER CUT ?

i befriended sisyphus last and wasnt really interested by him at all tbqh. but after a certain point he introduces you to his boulder which he has named bouldy and anthropomorphized. this opens the interaction options “Talk?” and “[Nectar]?”. you can then talk to bouldy and, if you so choose, gift bouldy a nectar. nothing happens. obviously. theres some fun dialogue from sisyphus and zagreus about how happy sisyphus is that youre bonding with bouldy and zagreus just vaguely entertaining his nonsense. you run out of dialogue after a couple times and the nectar also doesnt do shit EXCEPT a little heart icon/animation appears like every other character in the game that has a friend meter. bouldy does not appear in achilles’ codex. im intrigued by the animation however and continue to give nectars to see if theres a secret little thing u can unlock if u do. nothing happens. i have given like 10 nectars at this point. i already have sisyphus and bouldys cthonic companion so it cant be that. i lose interest and figure its just a fun little joke animation they threw in. fast forward endgame and i have a lot of nectar at this point so theres no reason for me to not throw a nectar in every time i come across sisyphus. like as in i have 70 nectars rn. so why not. about a 120 ish runs in, i give a nectar to bouldy, as per usual. and for the first time in many, many runs, zagreus finally says a new piece of dialogue: “huh?”. you notice something has changed in your boon icons. there is something there that you dont think was there before. you open your boon menu.

there is a new boon. it is called “Heart of Stone: You believe in Bouldy, and Bouldy believes in you.” it says it gave you 5%+ movement speed.

CUT TO EVEN FURTHER DOWN THE LINE (but only about a handful of runs this time). you have received several bouldy boons at this point. he bestows one every time you gift a nectar to various effects, not just move speed. there is new dialogue from sisyphus. you talk to him. he asks you, concerned and a bit hesitant, if you’re aware that, well...bouldy isn’t REALLY alive. obviously. you know he can’t really respond right? he asks while you sit with your 2% damage reduction boon (you believe in bouldy, and bouldy believes in you) just There in your boonlist. zagreus is kind of indignantly like oh come on sisyphus, i know better than that. of course bouldys real! i believe in bouldy.

oh shit, i think. did sisyphus really not believe in bouldy all this time?? has zagreus accidentally Created life from bouldy from his continuous devotion/offerings??

NO. SISYPHUS IS LIKE HAHA I KNOW, IT JUST MAKES BOULDY SO MAD WHEN I SAY STUFF LIKE THAT. JUST TEASING YOU, BOULDY, YOU KNOW I LOVE U  BESTIE (?????????????????????????)

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

#draft

[weebsinstash]

I’m new to this blog a bit but I came across this blog from your Valentino x readers, idk if anyone has asked u this and I’m sorry if they did 😅 but do u plan on continuing them or any other Val x reader fic?

Honestly I've been having tons of ideas for him and other things I want to write, it's just become a big, motivation and depression issue. I keep having days and weekends off where I just sleep or smoke and do nothing and then I have anxiety that I didn't get anything accomplished and it's become a negative loop of "do nothing bc im stressed or unmotivated>feel bad for doing nothing>do nothing bc I feed bad about doing nothing>wash rinse repeat>live in constant disappointment and self hatred"

Honestly I've been trying to encourage the mindset of "dont force it! You aren't obligated! You're ok to take it easy" but I actually think I've been taking it easy for so long its just becoming easier to. Not write at all, so, im thinking it might actually do some good if I DID try to sit down and force it on my next day off. Just to get the ball rolling a little more

But uh... I still feel really stressed and messed up over stuff that's happened to my sister and unfortunately a lot of the ideas involving Valentino usually have to deal with.... you know, being taken advantage of while under a substance or things that are similar enough to her story i just. Feel bad.

But anyways I gotta tell myself what happened to her is none of my responsibility and honestly she even weaponized it to make me feel horrible so, I dunno, maybe I've recognized thst the entire reason she even told me came from a manipulative mindset and I'm coming to terms with... enjoying my own stuff again, if that makes sense. Kinda had to absolve myself of the guilt, even though it has nothing to do with me

Kinda everything above has to do with me writing in general but anyways, to get back to like, this big fluffy asshole specifically

99% of why I haven't written more for him is that I feel like I have to do more research to get his character down, and specifically? His manner of speech, since I found out a lot of fics I want to write usually deal with him making a lot of threats and being very dialogue heavy. He's only verbally spoken in the Angel Dust comic, and his Instagram can only be found through archived tumblr posts (because antis reported the account for misogyny, because that's the level of nuance and understanding adults have on the internet now I guess) and like, what if that's not reflective of his personality, what if that's just his online persona. What if I create some sort of weird cringe offshoot that isn't very canon correct.

Like. From my perspective Val is usually very, sassy and flamboyant in a very "fuck you, im being myself, im the boss, eat my shit, fuck with me and I'll cut you" kind of way, but he's also basically a mafioso and deals with drug deals and the mob and shit like that and can obviously be very threatening and serious. So I guess it's finding that balance? Like what's the ratio of Mean Pimp vs Sassy GNC partying slut, kwim. I guess that's an idea in of itself I keep having for a Reader x Val fic; Reader having so much fun partying and indulging in the worst parts of themselves with Val that they forget who he is and where they are until some sort of horrible epiphany or consequence is staring you right in the face

Like. Im definitely reading too much into it. Its 100% I dont want to write something and then the show comes out and my stuff seems like, cringe. I mean, even more cringe than me writing yandere content in general but 😅

TLDR: yes, I have a lot of ideas, im just an easily embarrassed little cringey baby who's reading too much into it and wants it to be enjoyable but accurate and im also having motivation issues

#also ngl... i keep wanting to write a hh or hb fic where reader is an asshole and i dont think all of you would like it

[redrose-arrow]

Duncan x Halt anon here!!! this is one of the last coherent hcs i have about these two (the rest are kinda random, just cute little things I think would apply to this ship) ANYWAY IM HAVINF THE TIME OF MY LIFE LETS GOOOO

OKAY SO CAITLYN’S DEATH. I’m imagining this is set sometime after the Early Years series, before Halt takes on Gilan as an apprentice; anyway, Duncan gets a letter one day from Clonmel and he opens it to see that it’s an invitation to the funeral of the Hibernian princess Caitlyn O’Carrick—it’s protocol that whenever someone Royal/generally important dies, a letter is sent to all kingdoms who are on good terms with the deceased/kingdom of the deceased informing them of the death (along with an invite to the funeral). This was only put in place because it’s not great fun to show up at a ball or party and be like “Hey how is [blank] doing?” only to have [blank]’s mother burst into tears and run out of the ballroom—kinda puts a damper on the evening (Duncan has learned this the hard way. He’s not keen on repeating that mistake, so he makes sure to read through all his mail carefully)

So he gets this letter, goes “Clonmel? funny, that’s where Halt is from” and puts it aside for a second to continue rifling through his mail. Then the lightbulb goes off on his head and he‘s like “WAIT, THAT’S WHERE HALT IS FROM” and dives for the invitation. There’s more information regarding the place it’ll be held (a private funeral service in Dun Kilty, which will then be opened to the public so they can pay their respects) and other details like what time, the dress code, etc etc, but all Duncan can think right now is: Caitlyn O’Carrick is gone. Halt’s sister is dead.

Then another thought: does Halt know?

Duncan is pretty sure he doesn’t—Halt doesn’t keep in touch with anyone from his past, not that there were many people he’d want to keep in touch with anyway. But Caitlyn was important to him, the one person who’d actually given a damn about him, and Duncan realizes with a growing sense of dread that he’s gonna have to tell Halt about her passing. Reluctantly he sends a messenger boy to fetch the Ranger (“not extremely urgent, but I’d like to see him by the end of the day”) and excuses himself to his chambers. Halt rolls in sometime around mid-afternoon with a “you wanted to see me?” Duncan, letter in hand, pit in his stomach, tells him to sit. “If this is about the seal that I allegedly carry in my bag,” Halt says as he sits, “then you should know that Crowley is a lying bastard who couldn’t tell a horse from a boat. I don’t know how he manages to hit what he’s aiming at with that eyesight, but—“ he cuts off when Duncan holds the letter out to him. He raises an eyebrow, meeting Duncan’s grim gaze. Without another word he takes the letter, unfolds it, and reads.

There’s no visible change in Halt’s expression; he’s stoic as always, but Duncan knows him now, sees the way his fingers tighten on the paper, knows by the way he stills that his mind is struggling to process the information he’s been given. Neither man speaks until Duncan breaks the heavy silence: “The funeral is in a week’s time. I’ve already written and sent a letter confirming my attendance at the service.” No reaction from Halt, so Duncan takes a breath and says, “I think you should come with me.” He goes on for a little about how he can station Crowley at Redmont in Halt’s absence, how he’ll explain Halt’s seemingly unnecessary company for the trip, precautions they can take so nobody recognizes his similarities to the King Ferris; then he trails off when he realizes that Halt’s not really listening, just staring blankly at the unassuming letter that brought his entire world to a screeching halt. Duncan walks over and rests a hand on the man’s shoulder: “If you decide to come with,” he says quietly, “I’ll be ready and waiting by the front gate at dawn.” He spares one last glance at Halt’s frozen expression, gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze and walks out. When Duncan returns an hour later, Halt is gone, and the letter is resting on the chair where he’d sat.

Three days later and Duncan’s ready and waiting, sitting on his horse with a pack pony shuffling impatiently behind them. It looks like Halt isn’t coming and he’s about to leave when he hears the familiar clop-clop of a Ranger horse, just as Halt rides into view on Abelard. He slows to a stop, and if the shadows under his eyes are a little darker than usual then Duncan doesn’t mention it. The two of them share a look; finally Duncan inclines his head, turns to whisper a few instructions to his chamberlain, and takes off, Halt following closely behind.

The funeral is nice enough; Duncan attends the private service, leaving Halt alone in their shared guest room, and later in the evening Halt slips away to watch the public service from the shadows. When he leaves, there’s a brightly coloured wildflower in his hand that’s gone when he returns. Duncan doesn’t ask. (He doesn’t say all that much, actually; the sight of the grave next to Caitlyn’s, a polished gray slab with intricate patterns and a marking etched into the stone that reads ‘HALT O’CARRICK, CROWN PRINCE’ has him feeling ill for the rest of the trip.)

I’m still not 100% decided on the details—I’d like to think that Duncan wanders around the castle a little bit, stopping to stare at the portraits of the O’Carrick family hanging from the walls and trying not to do a double-take every time he sees and/or hears Ferris talk. And how would Halt react to seeing Ferris again? I am ALSO not sure about this but in general I think it would just be a lot of Halt grieving quietly with Duncan standing by him in a silent show of support. (after all, it’s not like anyone else can be there—nobody else can know that Halt’s sister has died, and even if he did tell anyone the abridged version without the gruesome details, they wouldn’t fully understand how much she meant to him. Duncan doesn’t say “I’m sorry for your loss”, because he knows Halt well enough to know that the man despises empty platitudes. So he just...stays with him, and watches over him, and reminds him that he’s not alone.)

if I hadn’t already shipped Halt and Duncan because of your previous headcanon, I would now. It is absolute b e a u t i f u l.

I love Duncan’s conflicted emotions, Halt’s silenced anger - Halt’s supposed gravestone?? I never even thought of that but it’s an amazing detail. The dialogue is spot on, too.

You too, anon, THANK YOU for dropping this in my inbox. I TOO AM HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE

#again: what can i add to this? #it’s so so good #and already reads like a fanfic #i’m loving it #rangers apprentice #ranger's apprentice #halt o’carrick #duncan #ask redrose #ask redrosearrow

[meyerlansky]

since I watched u play thru marble nest and you had all those withheld Thoughts and Opinions can I ask ur thoughts on one aspect of the story: the way everyone in town seems to disagree on what kind of person dankovsky is, what he wants to do, etc.? it feels to me like it's meaningful on a story and meta level that he's so built up by others to be whatever they want to see?

admittedly most of those went unsaid because i’m inarticulate as shit when i can’t write my thoughts out and i lost my train of thought talking to npcs, and also all of them basically just end in "godDAMN i love him"

BUT YES oh man i definitely agree, daniil is on the receiving end of a TON of projection and assumptions, and i think the thing is, he sort of... cultivates it? like artemy gets people's assumptions projected on him too, but he's MUCH more vocal about correcting it when someone's expectations of him don't match up with how he sees himself. daniil, on the other hand, tends to wear people's perceptions of him like a second skin, and doesn't push back nearly as hard or as often when those perceptions don't sync up. i will be nice to my dash and put my rambly bullshit under a cut, but tl;dr i think daniil finds value in finding out how people see him and utilizing that perception to get what he really wants, and he's willing to play the villain in particular because a. negative perception is as useful as positive perception if you're clever enough to use it to your advantage, and b. based on some stuff in artemy's route but especially based on the particular circumstances of marble nest, he thinks that, to some degree, he deserves to be thought badly of.

so i realized halfway through writing this you probably meant marble nest's story specifically, but i think it's relevant to his characterization in artemy's route too, because... marble nest daniil is not that different from artemy route daniil, as far as i'm concerned—he's just more desperate and more beaten down. as for the actual question, overall i get the vibe that daniil's used to leveraging how he's perceived to get what he needs out of a situation, and he's waaay more comfortable playing the villain than, say, artemy is, if that's what people are putting on him from jump. it's less work, right? correcting people's assumptions is a waste of valuable time and energy, and people are hard to convince once they've set their mind to something. why bother when you can just play along and, if you're clever enough about it, get what you need out of the interaction anyway? he gets built up into so many different versions of himself by different characters because he's willing to be different things to different people without it eroding his goals or his sense of self. he has a flair for the dramatic, obviously, but i don't know how much of it is innate and how much of it is cultivated in service of that kind of perception leveraging. like, prime example, the day 1 conversation with artemy reads as EXTREMELY performative—from his word choice to his demeanor to the exclamation points in the dialogue to the fucking LIGHTING, he comes off like he's playing a role, and not a new one. and when the conversation's over, he's learned some things about what kind of person artemy is, what kinds of things get a rise out of him, all without really revealing too much of his own hand. but the front sloughs off the closer he gets to artemy, and it sloughs off QUICK, to the point that A DAY AND A HALF LATER he's gone from saying "you owe me" in the most facetious way possible to "i need your help" and "if this goes badly, i'll take the consequences" completely unselfconsciously, and subsequent conversations with artemy are complete turnarounds from how he approaches artemy and their relationship on day 1. on the whole, i think he cares way less about his reputation than he does about Getting Shit Done, and he's surprisingly willing to be the scapegoat for other people's fears and other negative emotions, as long as the end result doesn't hamper his goals. which makes some sense considering his corpus of research involves spitting directly in the face of natural law and the people who consider themselves responsible for enforcing it. you don't do that kind of shit if you care about being well-liked. so i think 99% of the time, daniil gets read multiple ways—often incorrectly—because he finds more value in utilizing those perceptions than he finds in correcting them and Being Known. as far as characters we see in the game go, artemy's the exception, which might change once daniil's route is out, but every comment everyone else makes to artemy about daniil leans on their assumptions about him, which means he's not going around showing anyone else what he really thinks.

i also think daniil has sort of... internalized that he's Unlikable, on a personal level. he doesn't walk into a single situation in p2 expecting to be liked, or willingly helped, or for his presence to be wanted beyond the utility he can provide. he relies almost entirely on his ability to deliver solutions [with, uh, declining success as the game goes on], the respect his reputation and his status as the kains' guest confers, and on the rumor that he's willing to get violent if things don't go his way. i think he's utterly convinced his ultimate goals will benefit humanity as a whole and therefore are fundamentally good, but i don't think he thinks HE'S good. there's a couple of moments in marble nest where he can pretty explicitly shoot down people saying nice things about him, and the "i guess i had to prove them right" and "do you condemn me?" lines in the shelter convo do not read to me like the words of a man who thinks he's 100% in the right in the way he's gone about achieving his goals. so like as much as i think he does have a very solid sense of Who He Is, i don't think it's a very generous self-image, and i don't think it's entirely accurate either, because i do think he's fundamentally a good person, despite people [in the game and out of it] not really bothering to push past whatever front he's put on. artemy pushes through it, and the kids in marble nest push through it, and i think it's somewhat telling that the kids in marble nest are... the only real people IN marble nest. georgiy undermining his authority as soon as he's indisposed is part of the fever dream; the soldiers and orderlies believing he's the one giving the okay to kill kids and civilians are part of the fever dream; the clerk assuming daniil will agree with his racist bullshit is part of the fever dream. all these negative images of himself are in his head—based on previous conversations with the real people, but at the time of marble nest, in his head. they're all things he, somewhere in his mind, expects people to think of him or expect of him, and to me, that's not the kind of stuff someone as arrogant and convinced of his own awesomeness as people seem to think daniil is would think about himself. but the kids worrying about his health and taking care of him while he's infected are real, and for whatever reason they think he's worth trying to save. THAT'S the reality, THAT'S who he really is, even if he can't see it himself, and i don't think he can.

so ANYWAY i think the multiplicity of daniils in marble nest in particular is to some degree a manifestation of the fact that he IS willing to be different things to different people, that he knows this about himself, and that he has SOME level of anxiety over the thought of the various masks becoming the reality, and him losing control over who he ACTUALLY is, not just how he's perceived. i think this bothers him in artemy's route as well—the last thing he says to artemy translates to "the greatest power is to have power over oneself" and i do not think he's talking about himself. i think he's talking about artemy, and the fact that, ESPECIALLY from daniil's perspective in artemy's route, artemy very much controls not only his own narrative, but at the very least strongly influences daniil's and everyone else's too. [there are also layers and layers with that line and the doll narrative but i am too tired to get into it right now and also the doll narrative fucks my feelings up in so many ways.] i have no idea if any of this makes any sense, but here it is /gestures weakly at All This

#permian tropos #asks #pathologic #pathologic 2 #daniil dankovsky #kara plays pathologic 2 #/SHRUGS #Daniil Liker On Main

[orange-waterfalls]

Hugs From The Captain!

Captain Magnum x gn!reader

A/N: hi. it's me. i'm not dead! which is an awful surprise considering the amount of people who WROTE MY OBITUARY yesterday, PREEMPTIVELY in case I did die. but i didn't! so suck on that.(yes this is a markiplier quote no I do not remember what video) anyways here's a soft Magnum fic with a lil angst. as a treat. after fucking MONTHS. I have been kind of experimenting? with like more banter or realistic type of dialogue. just like. lemme know if u think it's good. Rated T for cursing. Fluff and sort of angst. Uhhhh tw: self-doubt, tw: guns, tw: alcohol, tw: drugs. Reader doesn't like. Use guns. Or drink. Or do drugs. Uhhhh I think that's it enjoy!!!

Word Count: 2.8k

Hugs From The Captain!

---

“Good job, matey!” Magnum yells out when you drop a large sack of coins on the ground. You breathe heavily and your arms are shaking, but by God you carried that shit onto the ship. In the middle of a gunfight, no less!

You don't respond, preferring to hit the deck as bullets continue to fly. You cover your ears with your hands and squeeze your eyes shut tight. No matter how long you'd be on this ship, you were sure you'd never get used to this part. You don't know how long you were on the floor, but when you looked again, two other crewmates were on the floor as well and it was silent. You scramble to your feet and look around, sighing when you notice the other ship sailing away.

"Good job, Y/N!" One of your mates says loudly, still on their stomach on the floor. Ah, yes. Gunshots. Ringing in the ears. Love it.

“Thank--!” You’re cut off with a squeak as Magnum squeezes you in a giant bear hug.

“Aw, you’re doin’ fantastic! That was wonderful! I never thought I’d have such a great first mate!” He turns to another crewmate. “...no offense”

“Some taken…” he sighs and rests his cheek in his hand.

"Mag-" you can't finish before you wheeze a breath out, and the captain takes that as a sign he should put you down. He does, holding your shoulders as you sway, and brushes you off a bit.

"Apologies… I get a bit excited," he flushes.

"You're-" you clear your throat, "you're fine."

"Anywho, let's all celebrate tonight! I have some o' that fancy whiskey in me cabin!" He suggests.

"Fancy?" You croak.

"Ya know. Fancy! The bottle actually has a label on it!"

"Right… uh, sure. We can do that. Ok."

"Fantastic!" He reaches out for another hug but freezes when you flinch away. He plays it off by grabbing a rope and telling the crew what to do.

You sigh in relief. You love the guy, you do, but goddamn he is strong. Sometimes a hug is a bit too forceful. You were sure he's cracked a rib before.

You stand next to him, waiting for him to let you know what you can do, but he just smiles and sets a hand on your head.

"Ye were wonderful today. Yer arms must be tired. Ye should go rest," He explains.

"What? No, I'm fine!" You put your hands on your hips. He squints at your arms, and you look down and notice they're shaking. You let them drop.

"Mm. Go rest," he instructs and you cross your arms before sulking away to your room.

--

You lay on your bed completely still. You'd been in this position for the past 4 hours. It had gotten dark and you were sure you missed dinner.

Ok, fine, your arms hurt before.

But now you couldn't feel your body at all. Everything was completely numb. Maybe carrying a giant bag of gold coins that was nearly the same size as you wasn't the best idea.

You hear the door creak and your heartbeat speeds up but you literally do not move a single muscle.

"Mate? Y'alright?" Magnum asks. You groan in response. That was supposed to be a "yeah". He walks over to your bed and you manage to move your neck a bit to look up at him.

"I have a feelin' yer bein' dramatic." He chuckles, a deep sound that echoes through your room.

"How dare you," You whisper, your throat hoarse.

"It can't be that bad."

"Not everyone is a seven foot tall mass of muscle."

"There's a bit I'm pudge in here too, don't worry."

"Whatever."

"We're celebratin'. Ye wanna come or are ye gonna lay here for another 6 hours?"

So it was 6, not 4.

"Magnum, boss, cap, mate, I don't think I can fucking move, much less dance with you people." Because whenever there's drinking, there will be dancing. You've been here long enough to know that is a fact.

"Here, I have an idea."

"Wha--" He lifts you up like you weigh nothing and you feel your face heat up a bit. He pulls you into a bone crushing hug. Literally. You hear and feel your back crack in several places. He drops you onto your feet and, again, you sway a bit, and again, he steadies you. You stretch your limbs, sighing.

"Uh… thanks. Still don't think I can dance, though..." You scuff the floor with the toe of your boot.

"Eh, thas alright. Ye can sing, can't ye? Ye know a few shanties?" He asks.

"... a few…" You say with a smile.

"Good! I'm sure they'll love to hear ye," He gently sets a hand on your shoulder. He sets it gently on purpose. You know because he was about to slam it down with a force that would probably dislocate your shoulder, but stopped a few centimeters away and made sure to let it down soft.

"Mm. We going now?" You pat the hand on your shoulder.

"If ye want."

"Bet. Let's go."

--

After an hour or so, you had exhausted your voice and all the shanties you knew. Magnum was right, the other crewmates were very excited to hear you sing. They even chanted beforehand. As soon as they recognized the songs they joined in they joined in. They started dancing after a while, too.

You're sitting by a light in the corner, sipping your drink. They're having a lot of fun, and you can't help but smile. You feel… safety. Comfort. Affection. Love.

You love these people. This is your family. This is a group of people who you might have never known if your life had gone just a bit differently. You thanked whatever being is out there in the universe for giving you this… family. This feeling of pure joy.

You hear loud creaking towards you as Magnum approaches. You tilt your head back to look up at him behind you.

"Oi. Ye alright?" He inquires in a voice much quieter than you're used to.

"Yeah, I'm good," You say, matching his volume.

"Ye were actin' like we were goin' ta haveta saw yer arms off," He teases.

"I thought you were!" You defend jokingly.

"I'da been the one to do it."

"Woulda given me a cup of beer and said 'it's basically an anaesthetic'."

"Well, of ye drink enough…" you both chuckle. You look down at your drink and swish it around in your cup a little. You can feel him staring at you and it starts to make you uncomfortable.

"What is it?" You snap a bit on accident. He frowns. "Sorry…"

"Ye sure yer alright?" You groan loudly in annoyance.

"Yes! I am absolutely sure, 100%--"

"Tell me and I'll buy ye a treat next time we get to shore." You both stare at each other for a moment. Your arms are in midair since you were cut off from your dramatics. He had an eyebrow raised and was looking at you suspiciously. You drop your hands onto the table.

"I feel useless." You say bluntly.

"Wha? Why? Did someone say somethin'? I'll shoot them out o' me cannon right now!" Magnum panics.

"See, this is why I didn't want to tell you!" You sigh and fall back in your chair.

"Wha d' ye mean?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"There's no… nobody said anything, I just… I got a bag. One bag!"

"Aye! An' that was very--"

"Mags, they each got at least two. Some even had three. You got seven. Plus a chest."

"Ok, so we're a little… little stronger than ye, what about it?"

"I'm not… useful to you! I'm not as strong, I'm not good in a gunfight, I can barely talk my way out of anything--"

"Ye talked John out of his potatoes."

"I thought his name was Jack?"

"Eh, he-he never corrects anyone. I called him James the other day and nothin'."

"Huh. But that doesn't count. I know him."

"Ye are useful, and even if ye weren't, yer a valuable… valuable? Yea, valuable member of this crew. I haven't seen 'em dance this much in months. I haven't smiled this much in months. Ye are a very important part of me ship. Crew. Me crew."

"...Mags, are you drunk?"

"Not the point. Wha I'm sayin' is we love ye and now we're attached and ye can never leave."

"Ah, I see. C'mon. Bedtime," You stood up and walked over to Magnum, putting a gentle hand on his arm. He squints at it.

"No," He looks up at you.

"Mags…" You warn.

"No," He crosses his arms and leans back.

"Magnum," You cross your arms. Is he really doing this right now?

"Call me captain," He smiles brightly.

"...I'm not doing that," You can't help but smile back.

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why do you want me to?"

"I like it."

"Ok, Mr. authority complex."

"Stop psychoal… psychoan… psy--"

"Psychoanalyzing."

"Yeah that."

"Only if you get to bed."

"...bah."

"Bah, yourself. Stand up."

"I'm a lil tipsy, it's fine." He says, swaying a little. You put your hand back on his arm and he stares at it as you lead him to his cabin.

"You'll thank me in the morning when everyone has a pounding hangover and you just have a headache." You pat his arm.

"Mm. Mate?" He asks, still staring at your hand.

"Yeah, Mags?" You open his door and let him walk in. He looks at you standing in the doorway with this… weirdly soft look on his face.

"...I love ye." He whispers. Ok, that was way too quiet and a very uncharacteristic thing to say.

"Love you too. You're drunk." You repeat.

"I know. I still love ye."

"Thank you. Go to sleep."

"Cuddle?"

"No, you smell like whiskey."

"Please?"

"No. Love you. Go to sleep."

"G'night."

"Night."

--

"Morning, everyone." You smile over your cup at the tired and annoyed faces that walk through the door. Some mumble a "good morning" back, some only give you a wave, some straight up ignore you. Magnum walks in, visibly doing better than the others, and makes his way to you.

"Uh…" He scratches his beard.

"Hm. Let me guess…" you tap your chin with a finger and raise your eyebrows.

"...thank you." He sighs.

"Called it," You tilt your seat back and put your feet on the table.

"Yeah, yeah…" He grumbles.

“Sleep well?” You sip your drink.

“Eh… yeah…” He says after a couple seconds.

“That’s a hesitation I hear,” You raise an eyebrow.

“Mm… dream was a… a little bad…” He sits in a chair across from you.

“Bad? Bad how?” You tilt your head, and the look he gives you isn’t a very good one.

“Eh, jus’… jus’… mm…”

“Don’t wanna talk?”

“Not… really…”

“Ok. Coffee?”

"Aye." You stand up and get another cup of coffee with a little bit of sugar and some whiskey and hand it to him.

"... sugar 'n whiskey…" he says, surprised for some reason.

"Yeah. You like it that way, right?" You ask, worried you'd gotten it wrong.

"Aye, aye I do…"

"...is something wrong?"

"...no. Nothin'."

"You… sure?"

"Aye."

"Ok… I'm gonna… go see if the others want anything." He nods as you walk away.

That was. Very weird.

You shake your head and walked up to John. James. Whatever.

"Mornin'... Joseph." You say experimentally.

"Mornin', Y/N." He smiles. So, he just answers to anything. Great.

"Need anything? Coffee? Food? Drugs?"

"Why would we need drugs?" Another mate asks.

"For your hangovers, duh." You clap your hand on Jim's (Jake's?) shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll spike your drinks." They all thank you at different energy levels as you leave to get their individual cups of coffee. You feel someone staring at you and turn to see Magnum gazing at you from his seat. He clears his throat and turns away once you see him. You sigh and distribute the cups among the crewmembers. One of them stares at you as you hand them a cup.

"What?" You ask defensively.

"He's in love with you." She comments.

"Yeah, I know…" you sigh and sit down at her table.

"You know? What do you mean you know?!"

"I mean, I know!"

"Do you like him back?"

"That's a difficult question."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I love him a lot but he's a greedy bastard with an authority complex and he hugs way too hard."

"The hugs are not that bad." You give her a look. "Ok, yeah, they are."

"Uh-huh."

"You could… teach him how to hug and see where that gets you?"

"I think I'd hurt his feelings if I suggested that."

"Then just… hug him!"

"What? No!" You whisper-shout to get your point across but also make sure Magnum doesn't hear you.

"Why not?!" She whisper-shouts back.

"That's… weird! I don't give hugs! Hugs are not a thing I give! I get hugs I do not give them!" You both stare at each other for a minute.

"You're touch starved," she raises an eyebrow.

"No shit, so is he."

"One hug! That's it!"

"I refuse."

"I'm sure it'll make him happy!" You pause, thinking about it. He did seem a little upset when you flinched at him. You glared at the pirate and she gave you a shit-eating grin back. She knew what she was doing. Fuck.

"One hug." You hold up your finger to emphasize the point.

"That's all I ask." You point at her and stand up from your seat. You walk over to Magnum. He looks up at you, eyes widening for a moment.

"First mate." He nods.

"Captain," You nod back, "Can we talk?"

"...uh."

"Just real quick? Somewhere private?"

"Uhhhh."

"Magnum."

"Ok. Yea, we can… do that." You nod and began walking towards his cabin. After a couple steps you realize he's not following you and turn around. There he is, sitting at his table.

"Mags?"

"Hm? Oh! Comin'."

He makes his way over to you and enters his cabin. You enter afterwards, shutting the door behind you. You look at him, this 7-and-a-half foot giant of a man, fidgeting. Nervous. You squint at him. How are you gonna go about this?

"You hug too hard." You state. He frowns and drops his hands to his sides.

"Oh…" He says, sounding disappointed. Fuck hurting his feelings, he was gonna hurt your organs, goddamn.

"You need… you gotta be softer. More-More gentle. Like… like, uh…"

"I'm not sure I can--"

"Here, lemme-just…" you shuffle over to him and wrap your arms around his torso. You feel him tense up under your touch. You lay your cheek on him and just squeeze your arms a little. You can't reach all the way around, but it seems to be working pretty well for what you can do. His arms are just frozen in the air, and he keeps moving them just a little, like he wants to hug you back but can't. You inhale a little and smell gunpowder, wood, and coffee. It's a comforting smell, mostly because it's just his, and you can't help but squeeze a little tighter and nuzzle into him. His breath hitches and his heartbeat speeds up. You grin.

You're fucking with him. Not on purpose, but it's happening.

You finally pull away after a few minutes, giving one final squeeze to his midsection before finally stepping back. You look up at him, an innocent smile on your face. He just stares down at you, a blush on his face. His eyes are a little foggy, and you start to get a little worried. Maybe that was… too much, too fast.

"Mags? You okay?" You whispered. He seems to snap out of whatever trance he's in at that because he sucks in a breath and drops his arms.

"Aye! I'm alright! I'm going to uh… go now!" He announces loudly and stomps out of his cabin.

You chuckle as you watch him walk robotically over to the front of the ship, almost tripping over himself and yelling at anyone who laughed. You sigh, shaking your head and sitting on his bed.

You'd wait until he told you about his feelings. You'd wait until he was ready. You could do that... You could do that.

You look out the door again, seeing the crew all working, and him just standing at the wheel. He has a dopey, crooked smile on his face and his hands keep twitching like he can't contain himself. He catches your eye and looks at you. You stick your tongue out and scrunch up your face. He smiles wider and it looks like he chuckles. He looks away, embarrassed. You smile again before standing up and leaving his cabin, planning to ask what you can help with.

Hugs are good enough for now.

#tw: guns #tw: alcohol #tw: drugs #tw: self doubt #ahwm #ahwm magnum #captain magnum #captain magnum markiplier #captain magnum x reader #captain magnum x gn!reader #captain magnum x gender neutral reader #captain magnum x you #captain magnum x y/n #markiplier egos x reader #x reader #x reader fic #x you #x y/n #a heist with markiplier

[loth-wolffe]

omg aRI, you deserve all your followers <3 and i’m so haPPY TO CELEBRATE THIS WITH YOU

i wasn’t gonna ask for a ship thing because i had no idea what i’d even say about myself but i finally thought of something!!

alright so i’ve gotten hyperfixated on a lot of things: pete wentz, musicals (hamilton and in the heights especially), painting, film photography, journaling, sylvia plath (i blame year 12 literature for that), it swings between marvel and star wars nowadays, but my biggest of all, bob ross.

it got so bad that i began to stick bob ross pictures at the most unreachable heights at my high school—i even had a cult following, with people i didn’t even know doing it too. at one point a bunch of guys in my class retaliated with anti bob pictures, but i was too powerful. i once enlisted the tallest guy in school to put up a picture, and even then i had him standing ON A CHAIR ON TOP OF A TABLE. i even learned how to dismantle and reassemble the classroom clocks so i could put bob ross pictures inside. i never got caught, and now i tutor at the school and every week i see the same bob ross’ in the corridor., the top of the classroom’s, etc, 150+ pictures of bob ross had been put up by me or one of my followers. that is my legacy. do with that what you will.

love, anna ❤️❤️

A HUNDRED YEARS LATER MY LOVEEEEEEEEE. so we were talking and i got really excited for you to read this shitty thing i made for you so here it is i love you i would ship you with absolutely everyone if I could.

BUT SURPRISE HERE'S THE SNIPPET I PROMISED YOU

okay babe this is NOT just because I know how much u love wolffe but,,,,,,,,

✨ wolffe ✨

i think u and wolffe would like,,, help each other grow, come out from your comfort zones and all.

and. I mean, i feel like you're the opposite of wolffe so you would learn so much from each other. like. at first wolffe hated musicals with his life. comet watched mamma mia once and wolffe saw that scene where tanya is singing does your mother know and wolffe wanted to shoot himself (if you ask me. is one of the most iconic scenes but whatever wolffe)

he just didn't see the point in those movies, and it's more music than dialogues anyways, why would anyone wants to watch a 2 hour long music video?

but then you came around, with your pretty smile and excited eyes and Hamilton just dropped, and you are watching it together. he doesn't have it in himself to tell you he fucking despises musicals.

but hey les mis is actually good and– okay. it's not THAT bad and he thinks that's that. and before he knows it he's watching all the musicals he can.

he cried with la la land's ending. and hey the guy from moulin rouge looks a lot like general kenobi. and corpse bride is his favorite and grease is not that bad but he doesn't like sandy. and his comfort movie suddenly became the rocky horror picture show.

he likes to watch Hamilton the most, but only if it's with you, and sometimes he finds himself quietly singing along.

AND OKAY THE WHOLE BOB ROSS THINGY. wolffe would a 100% support you with your wild obsession and just like me, he would NEVER let you live that down. MUCH MORE because this one time he smuggled you into both the jedi temple AND the GAR barracks just so you could stick your 8274288428 stickers of bob ross EVERYWHERE. he actually helped you with a few in the medbay AND the clones' locker rooms in the temple.

wolffe asked fox to do this one favor for him and there's the biggest sticker of bob ross' face in the ceiling of the chancellor's office and no one knows how it got there nor how to get it out because one corrie tried to do it and he got to get the shoulder off but it broke and the glue got stuck on the ceiling so they decided to leave it there. palpatine hates it. the corrie guard loves it. the jedi loves it. everybody wins.

wolffe's favorite times are when you read to him whatever, he mostly likes the poems because they make his heart ache and most of them remind him of you anyways.

this happens a lot when you're both having some lazy days, just cuddled together and you're looking at your datapan and he's two minutes away from falling asleep, your heartbeat is his lullaby along with the fingers running down his back. you hum at some point, and he frowns because you don't say anything else, so he's forced to look up, sleepy eyes looking at your concentrated ones.

"what is it?" he asks, you shake your head.

"'s nothing." but he doesn't go back to lay on your chest, instead he just stays there, looking at you with a little softness that melts your heart. "just a poem." he hums, satisfied, his ear goes back to press against the fabric of your shirt –his blacks.

"read it to me."

"[...]

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,

And arbitrary blackness gallops in:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed.

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

[...]"

when you finish you tilt your head just the slightest to try and see his face. he's got his eyes closed, but you know he's not asleep as his fingers gently brush the skin of your side. he hums.

this one too, reminds him of you. and funny thing, how the heart works, for it reminds you of him.

"it's nice," he says, sleepy words holding back the emotions the little poem made him feel. his heart thumping in his chest feels like it's about to spill something he doesn't want to say just yet.

you nod, nails scratching the little, freshly cut hairs at the nape.

"it is," you answer calmly. and there's more to those words that the two of you let on. "wanna hear another one?"

his nod is lazy, and you smile when he snuggles closer, his nose almost touching your neck. there's this warmth, that comes not only from wolffe's body heat, but because of the feeling that he brings, too.

(that's actually my most favorite fragment of mad girl's love song aka the only poem i know of sylvia plath aka one of my favorite poems in the whole world)

#anna i love u bye #ari answers #ship games #400 followers celebration #(heh) #SO HAPPY U CELEBRATED WITH ME TOO BABY #SPOILER ALERT: its not a snippet #anna my dearest

[calpalsworld]

Not "autistic anon," but also autistic, (being called maybe ableist made me want to put this out there before go to bed) i thought Zane was depicted that way purposefully by the writers. He has stereotypical traits like taking things literally, and has an actual humor switch. The writers have done things with Zane before like have him lose bodily autonomy (during that one Wu's teas short) and did something with his voice be it making him unable to be understood or talking too loud and the forced pirate voice by Jay. (what you're doing isn't too different from that, right?) I thought it was just a little iffy to distort his body and memory bc that could be interpreted as something not that I'm sure what exactly, it's some kind of disability. I dunno. I'm not good with putting this to words. I hope this makes sense.

Sorry I went to bed but now I’m awake 😭

Also I ended up totally spilling all my thoughts here rather than only specifically replying to you please forgive me context: my scary zane concept design, & my ninjago rewrite i refer to a lot 

Im a little confused but I think I get what you're saying? You're saying the Ninjago writers absolutely DON'T write Zane well (you listed examples of this) and you don't want me to fall into the same trap?

I had the opposite logic earlier. I thought: If Ninjago writers made Zane have stereotypical autisitic traits while also being a dehumanized robot, I may as well embrace it, say he is autistic blatantly, while also making him do funny/cool non-human robot things, so its clear as possible the two aspects of his character are literal and separate and not a metaphor for each other. But you're right! I do have a choice and I dont have to embrace things! :)

Like there were a couple ways I was gonna reject the original, for example, I never wanted Zane to have a funny switch, and I hated how other characters could fuck with Zane and he didn't even care 😬. I want to change that stuff. So youre right, if I am changing shit like that, it would be counterproductive for ME to GIVE him MORE traits along that theme. 😬😬😬 I should try to feel less obligated to portray Zane like he originally is. I still like the concept of "scary zane" (for reasons i explain below the cut) but I might tone it down a bit like with the claws and weird proportions and shit. I’d def make him look more skeletal and undead. That was my original intention, but i didnt execute it as good as I could have.... idk if anyone could tell thats what he was supposed to be like...my bad! But rn I dont wanna redesign him I wanna draw other stuff like normal alive Zane. Sorry LMAO 😳. Like I said in some earlier asks I think, I think Im gonna focus rn on how I should portray season 1 normal not dead Zane so thank you and feel free to share any other Zane thoughts ^_^ SOME OTHER THOUGHTS:

Also I Wanna Argue Some Stuff But I Understand its a Weak Argument Since All of This Context was Just In My Brain (so don't take this as an argument, just as me rambling): I don't want messed up things to happen to Zane and for it to just be ignored. I think if Zane is going to have fucked up things happen to him, as all characters must, its best for it to happen during a season where he actually addresses his feelings about being a robot (learning to accept that he will always be himself, regardless if hes "human" or the "original" or whatever. (thats how I always interpreted his emotions)). But I wouldn't have the other Ninja be very phased by Zane's looks because the whole point is they already love who he is (seasons 1-3 were about getting to know Zane) and now Zane himself just has to learn the physical, robot part of him is okay. Its about person-hood rather than humanity. Because the season focuses around Zane's soul, and because he lost his original body, I feel like I could mess around with his current, temporary body and have fun and make it scary. Because that body should be irrelevant. I understand it possibly being upsetting for an autistic character to be designed like this, but other people I talked to see it the opposite way. They find it comforting for him to look so different but still be himself and be so loved. SO IM ABSOLUTELY NOT saying its wrong to be bothered or to hate it or to feel any way. Just that I personally think it would be cool for Zane to be portrayed with a little spice lol, so thats why I like scary Zane for season 4.

Another Thing I Wannna Say But Is REALLY Hypocritical: (this isnt directed at anyone I just REALLY want to say this) I know I say "this is Zane but scary, he looks like fnaf" so he's obviously dehumanized, but I always felt like "scary" is more of an objective fact. Its an instinct. But what's "not human" is subjective. I think there is a problem with saying anything different from "average" human is dehumanized because that could extend to real people. Lol I know its bad for me to compare FNAF-ass Zane to real people, but I mean he could be real. People can have exposed teeth, and people can be shaped weird. And when someone first sees a person who looks like that they'll probably think "woah those features are scary" by instinct. And that surprise doesn't make someone ableist obviously. But bring that person’s humanity into question is NOT an instinct, and is fucked to shit. This is kinda a bad point for me to make since its about the fictional FNAF Zane I drew, and I am NOT implying ANYONE was thinking like this. [especially not the original asker anon who I am totally forgetting about at this point OOPS]. But I just thought it was an opinion of mine I couldn't go without mentioning when talking about dehumanization and disabilities.

^^^ I think you (anon) understand what I mean and might’ve said the exact same thing as me if you were writing a long ass response? I think this because you started to bring physical disabilities up and you said it was "a little iffy." ^_^ So we agree, but I don't see Zane's relation to real life disabilities as "a little iffy" I see it more like "complicated"? IF THAT DIFFERENCE EVEN MAKES ANY SENSE?????? I feel like a lot of things about Zane are really just complicated and need the right context, rather than the concepts necessarily being wrong -- NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT! THATS THE WHOLE REASON I DO THIS STUPID REWRITE! XD thats why a lot of my rewrite SO FAR has been the same concepts and plot beats, but different dialogue n specifics and such. I like a lot of concepts in Ninjago but I dont think they were presented correctly.....! :( So I guess all we can do is wait and see if I make Zane offensive or not....???

Also something about the memory part - yeah i agree i was surprised no one thought that was weird to make jokes out of his memory issues..... BUT I am like 100% firm on making his memory take longer to come back because I think its stupid how quick Zane was able to recover from literally dying. Like its just dumb to me. Hate it. (also bc memory & soul mechanics is ummm kinda important in my rewrite.... for reasons). Another memory thing btw, I was going to make his original amnesia come from hitting his head in an attack against the Skulkin when they stole his dads corpse, rather than his dad fucking choosing to make him forget. (its a sweet & iconic scene, but Um, WHY?!!!?!?!?!?) He has to follow data recovery instructions he finds in his dads diary. I think in that context it makes moments of memory loss somewhat different for Zane's character? Instead of loss of autonomy associated with disability, its a literal violent loss of autonomy associated with being traumatized by physical force. Idk how to phrase it exactly but I think that makes some vibes different?

Sorry, I think I got really distracted, and I don't know if I responded well to your points. Because uhhhh I think I agree with your stance actually? If I understand correctly? Fuck Ninjago writers for making the robot lose autonomy (a stereotypical robot theme) while also making him seem clearly autistic (NOT A HAPPY THEME FOR AUTISTIC PEOPLE) and not addressing it. And also auuugh Zane with a weird body is a difficult topic - kinda sussy pretty iffy.

Lol anyway idk if this made any sense and I REALLY rambled on you. but this was nice 👉👈 more Zane criticism pls love you and i love zane. i hope u dont feel mad at me because then it would be weird that im saying that lol. if you do feel mad at me tho you can send another ask (ILL TRY TO JUST LISTEN NOT RAMBLE NEXT TIME) but assuming ur chill rn, love you thnx

Take this page, don’t mind cole’s ass.

[oliverwoodmarrymepls]

I posted 2,323 times in 2021

817 posts created (35%)

1506 posts reblogged (65%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.8 posts.

I added 1,652 tags in 2021

#sarah the one who hates the muppets - 376 posts

#monique my dialogue dealer - 336 posts

#jess shut up - 281 posts

#zoya the wonderful human - 176 posts

#queue seem star shaped <3 - 117 posts

#erin my fellow football men hater - 101 posts

#lena my bestie who i’m in love with - 97 posts

#jess’ 100 celebration <3 - 74 posts

#taja <3 - 55 posts

#anon <3 - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 92 characters

#not being able to go watch gorillaz song machine tomorrow has actually sent me over the edge

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

wow wow wow what?? so i don’t know how there’s 100 of you but thank you very much. i love you all. literally all i do is talk about oliver wood, so thank you for putting up with it <3

about me !!

as this is my first celebration, i obviously had to do a britney spears theme - she is my queen after all <3 send in as many asks as you want, you don’t even have to be following.

CLOSED !! ily all thank you for participating <3

oh when it comes to what characters and stuff, anyone from hp is fine, i don’t know many marvel characters well so maybe try to avoid them, and i like friends so maybe some characters from that? idk <3

i’m shit scared that no one is gonna interact PLS

🎀hit me baby one more time : song ratings (send me a song and i’ll rate it, and i’ll give you a song i think you’ll like)

🌷oops…i did it again : ships (send me a few facts about yourself and i’ll ship you with a character from harry potter - please specify gender and era)

💄toxic : fmk (send me three characters and i’ll say whether i’d fuck, marry or kill them, or any fmk variant if you want to shake things up)

🌺womanizer : cym (give me things to cast my mutuals as)

🦩criminal : mini playlist (give me a character and i’ll give you some songs that remind me of them)

👠if u seek amy : !moots only! (send me this emoji and i’ll give you a song that reminds me of you)

👅gimme more : headcanons (give me a character and i’ll give you a random hc - specify sfw or nsfw)

my wonderful wonderful moots who i love so very much:

73 notes • Posted 2021-08-21 15:19:37 GMT

#4

damon albarn

singing ‘Country House’ on Top of the Pops (1995)

88 notes • Posted 2021-10-28 02:01:22 GMT

#3

Contentment in Stolen Jerseys

Oliver Wood x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing (like one word), reader being kind of awkward, just comfy fluff <3

Prompts:

“You could stay here, tonight. For as long as you'd like.”

Your lover is resting their head on your lap, falling asleep whilst you are playing with their hair.

You are wearing your lover’s clothes when they say, “Can I get my shirt/hoodie back?” and you say “No.” or “Come and get it.”.

a/n: this is for @heloisedaphnebrightmore’s 3.5k writing challenge!! it took me forever to write and it’s a little on the short side but here it is — and for the sake of the fic, there’s a sofa in your dorm, lucky you

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

With Oliver’s head situated in your lap, you felt calm. You always felt at peace with Oliver. The two of you were in your dorm; You sat at one end of the sofa while Oliver was sprawled out across the rest of it, his head resting sweetly on your lap. Mindlessly, you ran your fingers through his soft brown hair, causing the boy to slowly drift off.

“So how was practice earlier? You didn’t say,” You decided to break the silence, the comfortable silence, and pull him from his dreamy state.

“Good! I reckon the team have finally sorted themselves out- finally taken my brilliant advice,” You giggled at his casual self-confidence. You found the boasting that caused everyone else to roll their eyes oddly charming. “Bloody freezing today though,” He added, getting a mere hum in response from you. “Shame I couldn’t find my jersey,” He remarked, opening his eyes just in time to see your own eyes widen.

“Shit! I didn’t realise—”

“It’s okay,” He chuckled, cutting you off, “I’m happy to suffer in the freezing cold for you any day.” He looked up at you through his eyelashes innocently, a faint smirk etched on his lips. “Only if you keep playing with my hair like that, it’s nice,”

You took his remark as a prompt to continue idly twirling his hair around your fingers, watching as his eyes gently close; His former smirk seemed to disappear, a content look painted his face instead. You studied his features. His effortless beauty was bewildering. He managed to take your breath away even when he was just resting. A small smile made it’s way onto your face as you traced his eyebrows, watching Oliver relax under your touch. You simply allowed the comfortable silence to fill the room; His presence was more than enough for you.

His eyes fluttered open for just a second as he glanced at the window. “S’pose I’ll have to get going soon, aye,” he sighs, noticing the sunset. As beautiful as it may be, it always disappointed him; Anything that forced him away from you couldn’t really be that beautiful, could it? You take a second to reply.

“Or, you could stay here, tonight?” You suggest, “-for as long as you’d like.” Your voice came out as more of a mumble. Truthfully, you hadn’t expected to say it at all; You felt your cheeks heat up as the feeling of embarrassment and awkwardness crept up on you.

Oliver’s eyes shot open. “Really?” he spluttered, sitting up to look at you properly. A wave of relief washed over you as you saw the corners of Oliver’s mouth turn upwards into a smile. Though you could still feel your cheeks burning, at least the awkward feeling had subsided.

“Yes, really!” You giggled, “if you want to, that is.” You barely had time to finish that thought before Oliver had launched himself forward, his lips meeting yours.

He broke the kiss seconds after. “Of course I want to, I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” he breathed, a clear smile on his face. It wasn’t his usual cocky ‘I win, I’m better than you’ grin, either; There was a soft genuine smile on his face, the kind that said “I’m so lucky to have you” without him saying anything at all.

His face inches away from yours, he briefly looked down at your jersey-clad chest before bringing his eyes back up to meet yours. “Could I, by any chance, get that back?” He queried. You thought about it for a moment before replying.

“Not a chance,” You answered. It was your turn to host the smirk.

“You little-“ You cut him off by pulling him into another kiss, overwhelmed by the pure feeling of your relationship taking the next step.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Thank you @velvetcloxds for reading it and inspiring the title <33

and here is your requested tag @sheraayasher you wonderful human

89 notes • Posted 2021-11-07 11:02:24 GMT

#2

👅 oliver teaching you the rules of quidditch with salt and pepper shakers and whatever else there’s on the table. (Not sure if this is enough to write a headcanon. If u don’t like it, don’t worry about it, I can either send you something else or you can just discard it)

i literally adore the thought of this and i got a bit carried away with it and wrote something even though i’ve never written anything here before so enjoy please

@velvetcloxds i’m coming for your crown i’m joking never stop writing me dialogues please

“me? play quidditch?!” you scoff at the boy’s absurd suggestion.

“yeah! it would be fun to play together, don’t you think?” he replied, slightly confused by your reaction.

“i’ve never even picked up a broom, let alone read the rules or how to play,” he stared at you in complete shock, baffled at how someone could live their life not knowing how to play. it didn’t take him long to shake away the shock.

“well then,” he started, sliding both of your plates along the table, “we can start with the rules,” he quickly scrambled some items together; two forks, a salt shaker, a pepper shaker, a candle stick and a grape sat in front of you.

“i don’t remember seeing a candlestick on a quidditch pitch,” you remarked, rather sceptically, as you picked it up to inspect.

“this-“ he huffed slightly as he took it from you, “-is our goal actually.” he placed it front of you both as he placed the salt and pepper shakers down, one in front of the candle and one just in front of him. he paired the shakers with a fork each.

“okay..so if that’s the goal, then these-“ you pointed to one of the shakers.

“-are our players, granted there’s usually seven, but two will do to teach you a little” he finished your sentence, reaching to pick up the grape. “and here is our quaffle,”

“that’s the main one, right?” you queried, trying your best to show you had some understanding of the game. he smiled at your attempt at contributing.

“why, you don’t need me at all do you?” he leaned over to kiss your forehead, “you’re my little quidditch expert already,”

join in on the fun! <3

93 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 09:15:13 GMT

#1

Hey can you make one where reader and Oliver are together and the twins just teasing them

hello lovely anon! of course i can, but bare with me please, writing is hard

i hope you like it, sorry it took me so long <3

Oliver took his place next to you in the great hall, kissing your temple softly as he sat down. “Good practice?” You inquired as he took your hand in his own. He simply hummed in response before continuing. “I missed you though,” He added, leaning forward to trap your lips in a gentle kiss.

You giggled as he pulled away, both of you unable to wipe the smiles from your faces. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Fred queried, leaning into his twin. “I’d say so,” George replied, the same childish grin plastered on both of their faces. “Captain’s whipped!” they exclaimed as they chuckled. Oliver rolled his eyes, though his grip on your hand didn’t loosen, as he shifted slightly to face the pair. “I’ll have you know that I am not ‘whipped’ as you say.” He stated, quickly turning back to you.

“You know I don’t mean that though, right?” He whispered as he leaned into you, squeezing your hand ever so slightly as he worried that you may have take offence to his statement. Clearly he hadn’t whispered as quietly as intended since you could hear two familiar giggles echoing behind Oliver. You were the one to roll your eyes, this time, as you peered around the Scot.

“Have you got a problem with two people in love?” You asked bluntly, glaring at the twins, only getting a mere snicker from Fred. “Awww, you hear that Freddie? They’re in loooove,” George replied with a mocking tone, ignoring your question.

don’t mind me just tagging the lovely monique @velvetcloxds

150 notes • Posted 2021-09-12 06:32:34 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[lizacstuff]

SCK ask (more 36/37)

(Asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: I agree with your takes on how the writers just aren't nuanced with Serkan's character, but there's also parts of the criticism that dip into acting choices rather than script especially knowing how much they improvise. I've seen people annoyed with certain tiny things like "why aren't they holding hands here" or "why doesn't he LOOK in love here" and it kinda makes me uncomfortable? If, for the fandom, basically everything edser do is "unscripted" then it feels like they're almost blaming Kerem

Oh boy this fandom and their “unscripted” this and “Edser left the chat” that. I can’t tell you how uncomfortable that makes me. It takes 100s of people to make this show, Hande and Kerem are not the writers, and while their personal closeness may impact their comfort levels while working, everything Edser does is NOT evidence of a relationship. Sheesh. So insulting to them as actors. 

You know what narrative I’ve seen spring up that is also insulting? The “Kerem is so over this and has just checked out.” WOW, way to indict him and call his professionalism into question. I have not seen anything on screen that makes me believe this is true. The fans who say that I think are just really butthurt about this storyline and projecting it onto the actors, but they should realize what they’re saying when they do that. It’s extremely rude. 

As for scripted vs unscripted, the actors make 100s of choices per episode that were not verbatim in the script, that is what they are supposed to do. They and the director interpret the script. As for fans criticizing Kerem for things like, “why aren’t they holding hands here” or “Why doesn’t Serkan look more in love there” not sure where that criticism is coming from, but that is probably during dialogue, that is scripted, where they are trying to create a certain mood and perhaps hand holding wouldn’t work in that moment. Or the exact look a random fan wants, wouldn’t work in that moment. Whether we like it or not, this set of writers have decided Serkan is an actual robot, that is not Kerem’s doing. At all. 

Obviously, all that being said, there are a lot of wholly improvised scenes in this show. More than on any show I’ve ever watched. Anytime there’s a montage of them doing something, that’s improvised. The script probably says “Eda and Serkan make sandwiches” or “the gang plays volleyball” or “Eda and Serkan recreate the pottery scene from Ghost” and the actors go to town. We know from Kerem’s recent tweets that parts of when they were high were improvised, because he tweeted about how the horsey sound was inspired by the BTS video of 25 that he posted, and he talked about being inspired by the movie The Mask when improvising the tango scene. These actors are good at it, I’m glad the show recognizes that and continues to create opportunities for them to do that. But that shouldn’t be confused with them having control over the over-arching story that is being told. They don’t deserve any blame for this mess. 

Anonymous said: i think the problem (about feeling disjointed that you were talking about in your asks) has to do with drastic tone shifts, which i feel has always been a prevalent problem in the show. the balance between too MUCH drama and heaviness to all of a sudden super light-hearted fluffiness, but none of the payoff for the past drama that occurred. or maybe some of the payoff is still coming with this new selin drama because i don't see what the other use for it would be.

Yes, lets hope there is payoff still coming. And good observation on the tone shifts, I agree with you, but I think prior to 29, the drama was less impactful to the viewer.  The crash/amnesia storyline was so heavy and so upsetting that it’s like whiplash to have the lighter stuff when the characters are in that sort of agony. But I agree with you that that balance is where a lot of the disjointed feelings come from.  They try to insert comedy to lighten up and against this horrible backdrop that only ends up either making the side characters look callous, or the main characters like they don't remember the last scene. 

To your point about it always being there, I remember being like “whoa, what was that” when the narrative would be going merrily along and then suddenly throw some very heavy character stuff at us.  Like in 6, when it’s a battle of wills and a merry race against time and then all of a sudden we are learning about Serkan’s brother dying and getting the first glimpse of his childhood trauma. Or in 10 when the tone shifts and we learn about how Eda’s parents were crushed by a retaining wall and the terror surrounding her claustrophobia. I remember thinking at the start this is such a light fluffy show, but they’ve really given the characters some heavy mental health stuff to deal with. Serkan has panic attacks, Eda has claustrophobia and some sort of narcolepsy, Aydan is agoraphobic. It’s always been pretty heavy underneath it all. 

Anonymous said: You know what would be nice to see after the rejected proposal? If Eda doesn’t really give Serkan a reason and he decides that she must have said no because of the way he treated her during the amnesia days. And then we see him anguishing over it. The writers could actually have another chance here to write a better conversation for them. Will they do it? Probably not but it’d be nice.

If this is a device for Serkan to self-reflect, I’ll all for it. It would be nice!

Anonymous said: Do u think we’ll get another fragman? Maybe tmr or thursday?

I think we’ll get one later today, we shall see. I don’t know whether to eagerly await it or be terrified at the prospect. Hopefully, some of the footage they shot yesterday will be in it! 

Anonymous said: For the next episode, I am manifesting a scene of Eda putting Selin in her place when she shows back up in the office. Not in a “Serkan is my man kind of way” but more you need to remember that “I have 45% of the shares & I am done putting up with your crap.” Would also love a scene of Selin saying that Serkan asked her to come back and Eda saying she does not care.

I’m kind of hoping that Selin never steps foot in Art Life again, but we shall see. However, I take your point, a scene like that would be satisfying to watch. Selin did not show nearly enough deference to Eda when Eda was a partner, while Selin demanded it when the tables were turned. It was maddening. 

Anonymous said: So I am really hoping the fragman was misleading and the writers do not have Eda spending the whole episode trying to find out if Selin is really pregnant or not. Admittedly I am a tad bit bitter after the lack of a real apology from Serkan in the last episode and him telling Selin to stay at the company but that is still an awful story to give Eda after everything she has been through. Plus Deniz tells Eda to be careful of Selin and that she is after something which if it is just trying to trap Serkan with the pregnancy then why not just say that. Seems like Selin is up to something else as well. The scenes in the fragman do not seem to go together so hopefully this episode will actually be full of some good surprises.

We shall see. I think they have to have Eda investigating on her own to find out whether Selin is really pregnant or not for the plot. Anyway that’s what I’m speculating. She has to find out Selin’s  really pregnant, without talking to Serkan (because I still believe he can debunk it immediately because he didn’t sleep with her), and decide to leave. Which will lead to what I hope we may see in the second fragman today. Airport scene!  

However, that is just spec, we’ll have to wait and see. 

#sck speculation #sck spoilers #sen cal kapimi #edser #sck episdoe discussion #sck 1x36 #sck 1x37 #sckask #asklizac

[cassiopeiassky]

Black Velvet

Alright everyone, it’s finally here.  I’ve been sort of salty about the lack of tall!reader fics for awhile now or maybe it’s just the ubiquitous short, petite, drowning in his sweatshirt descriptions that get under my skin but just couldn’t get a decent amount of inspiration to write one.  I have been known to throw in a mention of height randomly in my fics, but my usual workaround to avoid physical descriptions of the reader is to just write Bucky as like six and a half feet tall.  Hes a damn super soldier, he should be taller anyway he did not start out as short as Steve.  So one day I stumbled across this post by @invisibleanonymousmonsters​ and for some reason I can’t explain, an idea was finally unlocked in my brain later that same day.  (Inspired by a song?  Me?  No.  Never.)

It’s kind of all over the place, so buckle in.  It does take a sharp right into smutsville but also ends up flipping a u and landing in flufftown.  I don’t know.  I just write what the muse tells me to write.  

I would like to thank the incomparable @scottish-pepper​ for her amazing help and support while I wrote the thing - I couldn’t have done it without you, darlin.

Bucky x Tall!Reader

Modern day AU - think of a 40s prewar Bucky if he got a chance to grow up and lived in a small town 

Plot:  You have a terrible day of epic proportions but a beautiful stranger in a small town helps to make it better.

Warnings: Swearing (as per usual), smut, mentions of alcohol/drinking/bars, a brief mention of potentially disordered eating, mentions of a thunderstorm, and a very specific shitty family member.

Word count: 12K  Yep.  Knda got away from me

One last author’s note:   This fic includes some ASL dialogue; it is expressed in italics without quotation marks.  ASL is an incredibly beautiful and expressive language, and it’s in 3D!!  It also has its own grammar structure, rules, nuances, and regional differences, just like any other language, and it can be a challenge to fit it into a two-dimensional space.  Taking this into consideration, I’ve decided to write the dialogue with spoken English grammar because my ASL is really rusty and I don’t want to mess it up.

It’s hot.  Like 100 degrees in the shade with 95% humidity hot. The trees are wilted, flowers are drooping, and there isn’t so much as a glimmer of hope for a cloud in the sky to interrupt the sun’s torture of earth’s inhabitants.  The air is thick and still – there’s no movement at all – yet dangerously unsettled.  It’s the kind of weather that if you sneeze, you might cause a tornado in the next county over.  Of course your cousin would choose today of all days to get married.  And of course her mom pressured her into going black tie, increasing everyone’s suffering tenfold.

“I can’t believe I rented a room for this.  I can’t believe I spent $200 on a dress.  Why am I even here?  What did I expect?”  There’s no answer, but of course there wouldn’t be.  You’re alone in your car, driving back to a motel that you might not even stay the night in.  You’d rented a room because you figured you’d have a few drinks at the reception – you wanted to celebrate the bride, she’s one of your best friends – but at this point you might as well just make the hour drive back home.

About a block from the motel you notice a bar tucked behind a gas station.   According to the clock on the dash, it’s only 5:25.

Fuck it.  You deserve a goddamn drink after today.

You pull into the parking lot and are surprised by the number of cars, farm trucks, and motorcycles already parked.  There’s only one redneck limo, thank God – a pickup truck with a 10 inch lift kit and truck nuts hanging off the hitch, and in your experience driven only by incredibly insecure men – so that’s a good sign, right?  It must be a decent place with decent drinks if it’s this busy so early in the evening.  Maybe some of your day can be salvaged after all.

The hot, sticky air rushes in as soon as the car door is opened.  “Gross,” you mutter; the heat hits even harder after the air conditioning in your car.  Glancing over to the passenger seat, you see the hideous shoes your aunt Lydia pressed into your hands upon arriving at the wedding.  “You know what, Lydia?  Fuck you and fuck your ugly shoes.”  You put your heels back on just to spite her.

It’s a small-town watering hole, so of course all eyes are drawn to you when you enter.  And they stay on you as you find a seat at the bar – perhaps it’s because you’re a stranger, perhaps it’s because you’re overdressed.

But probably not.

The bartender approaches while drying his hands.  He’s got dirty blonde hair in a sloppy undercut, a wide, flat nose, and is wearing a concert tee shirt with the arms cut off to show off his full sleeve of tattoos.  

“Do you have blended drinks?”  He nods. “Strawberry daiquiri, please.”

“Sure thing.”

You pull out some cash, tipping generously because your drink is a pain in the ass to make, then look around while you wait.

The bar is cool but not cold, not brightly lit but also not uncomfortably dim, is bigger than it looks, and is even busier than the amount of vehicles in the parking lot would lead you to believe.  On one side there’s a jukebox next to a small stage with an empty but decently sized dance floor.  There are a few high tops, then a gaming area featuring pool tables, dart boards, and a few pinball machines.  On the other side of the bar you see a window with someone selling pull tabs, a station set up for calling bingo, a door to what’s probably the kitchen, and a popcorn machine filled with freshly popped popcorn.  Behind you and scattered generously throughout the building are tables, some with 4 seats and some with 6, and over half of them are occupied.

“Here you go, miss.” The bartender places your drink in front of you with a polite smile.  “Would you like a menu?  The full kitchen is open tonight.”

The thought is nauseating. “Mmmm…maybe later.”

“Too hot to eat?”  At your despondent nod, he grimaces and places a tall glass of ice water next to the daiquiri.  “Thought as much.  I’ll check back in a bit.”  You didn’t notice his name tag until now – his name is Clint, and according to the hand illustrations under his name, he’s fluent in ASL.

Unsure if he’s Deaf and fluent in lipreading or if he’s hearing, you both sign and murmur, “Thank you,” before bringing the drink to your lips.  It’s on the edge of being burned – just the way you like it.  Sipping on the sweet slush is pure bliss, cooling you down from the inside out as it tempers the heat of the rum.

You sign?  He doesn’t speak this time.  It’s not an uncommon reaction.

Yes.  I’m an interpreter.

His eyebrows rise in interest.  What made you go into that?

My high school offered it, and I ended up becoming really good friends with the teacher’s daughter, who is Deaf.  I made a lot of friends, got involved with the community and immersed in the culture, and I just loved it, so I figured, why not do this for a living?  My dreams of being a Triple Crown winning jockey went out the window by the end of 5th grade so…

He laughs, but not unkindly.  Yeah, I suppose you are a bit too tall for that.  But 5th grade?  Damn.   His face lights up, Hey, have you heard of PATH, International?  They’ve got a campus about half hour north of here.  If you like horses, it might be right up your alley.  

PATH International, or Professional Association of Therapeutic Horsemanship, is an organization very close to your heart.  Yes! I volunteer there every Tuesday night.

The look of surprise on Clint’s face is priceless.  No shit? I’m there on Thursday nights!  You must be the other interpreter the kids are always talking about - they LOVE you!  And so do the horses.  You know, I was Ace’s favorite till you came along.  Now he won’t even look at me unless I bribe him with a treat.

You look again at his name tag, and the name clicks.  Wait, you’re Hawkeye!  The one that does the archery demos on horseback for the kids’ birthday parties.

He takes a theatrical bow. The one and only.

Clint “Hawkeye” Barton is nothing short of a legend at PATH.  Profoundly Deaf yet impossibly accurate with speechreading, he manages to blend both worlds perfectly.  He’s also a master archer both off and on horseback, which basically makes him a superhero in the kids’ eyes.  There are whispers that he travelled with a circus as a teenager, that he raises horses, and that he moonlights as a vigilante, but nothing has been verified and from what you’ve been told, he will neither confirm nor deny.  It’s very likely that there’s at least some truth to the horse raising rumor – Ace is technically his horse, he just loans the chestnut gelding to the program.  You’d been dying to meet Clint for a few years now but hadn’t been able to make it work.

It’s so good to finally meet you!

Likewise!  I’ve been meaning to swing by on a Tuesday to see who it is that stole my favorite horse’s heart, but I’m usually here.  His face lights up, Hey, I’ve got some ideas for a field trip for the older kids and adults but I need to team up with an ASL interpreter since I can’t technically work as a Deaf interpreter on my own off PATH’s campus.  You know, rules and shit.  You interested?

Absolutely!  Just let me know.   You dig a pen out of your purse and write your number and email address on a napkin. You know, I’m sorry, but I’m really not sorry about Ace.  He stole my heart, what can I say.

He’s a shameless flirt, but I never thought he’d actually prefer someone else over me.  But now that I’ve met you, I guess I can’t be too sore about it.  He seems to have good taste.  He takes the napkin with a grin and folds it up before putting it in his pocket, then looks to his left when a waitress waves for his attention and nods.  Duty calls.  Let me know if you need anything.

Well, that improved your day considerably.  

For a few minutes, anyway.

“That’s an awfully girly drink for a woman like you.”  A cloud of stale cigarette smoke with an obnoxious sounding man in the middle of it takes the seat next to yours.  

You don’t turn to face him; you don’t even acknowledge him.  If that’s his opening line, then you really, really don’t have the patience to interact with him today. This is the guy that owns the jacked-up truck. You can feel it in your bones.

Clint makes a face from behind the drink he’s making, notices your annoyance, and shakes his head. “Dude, she’s got more alcohol in her glass than you and your four buddies combined, so don’t knock her drink of choice.  She’s also clearly not interested, and way, way out of your league.  Go back to your pull tabs and leave the lady alone.”

You can feel the guy’s eyes on you, but Clint keeps glaring daggers at him and he eventually leaves. You can overhear him tell his buddies, “Thought she’d be an easy lay, but you know what?  Even I have standards.  How do you fuck someone that tall anyway?  I’d need scaffolding!”  They laugh, but you continue to hold your head up high.  It’s nothing you haven’t heard some version of before.  He’s not clever.

Ignore them.  They’re lonely, small little men.

I know.  Thank you.  His protective gesture is touching and completely unexpected.  This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often because most people assume you can handle yourself.  You can – but it’s nice to not always have to be on the defensive, and today you’re at your limit.

No worries.  You look like you had a rough day, I figured you didn’t need Chad making it worse.  Clint winks and turns back to his drinks.

Well, he’s not wrong, but the day can only get better from here, right?  Right.  You nod to yourself then sit back and enjoy your drink.  Clint stops by periodically to chat, but otherwise you’re left alone.

Eventually it’s time for a trip to the ladies’ room, and you do your best to ignore the stares and chuckles that inevitably follow you.  In your semi-formal black dress you certainly stand out in a bar filled with cut off shorts and tee shirts, but that’s not why they’re staring.

In your black satin and lace, modestly platformed stiletto heels – affectionately known as your ‘fuck me shoes’ – you’re well over six feet tall.  Are they uncomfortable?  God yes, but they’re also beautiful and totally worth it.

The bathrooms are at the back of the bar, past the dart boards and pool tables.  You’re almost there when you hear something ping off one of the pool table lamps and see it ricochet across the aisle and onto the top of the glass and wood cabinets housing the pool cues.  

“How – how the hell did you manage that, Rogers?”  A man with dark hair and a jawline that could cut glass heads in your direction.  “You were supposed to throw the chalk to me, not your imaginary friend standing thirteen feet behind me.”

“Sorry, Buck,” a blonde joins him, looking appropriately apologetic.  “My aim was a little off.”

“Ya think?”

You slow your pace to watch them.  The guy with the dark hair is gorgeous – well, they both are, to be fair – but the one…damn.  His maroon tee shirt is fitted enough to show off his beefy physique, and his jeans hug his thighs and ass like they were made for him.  He throws off an air of cocky confidence with just a hint of danger, lending a genuine feel to his bad boy image.  Should you…maybe?  No. No, you absolutely should not. You’re not in the right mindset to try to soothe a man’s threatened masculinity just for a bit of company.

He and the blonde reach for the wayward chalk, but it’s just out of their reach.  It’s amusing to watch them try to grab for it, but you take pity on them eventually.

Time for your good deed of the week.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.”  Stepping between the two, you reach up and effortlessly pluck the blue cube from its spot before dropping it into the dark-haired man’s hand with a smile.  “Here you go.”

Wide blue eyes look up into yours, but he doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even smile.  He just stares.  Figures.

The blonde looks between you and his companion before clearing his throat.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

The unspoken rejection from the brunette stings.  Normally it wouldn’t get to you, but after today?  It does.  It really does.  So you swallow against the burning thickness in your throat and force back the tears with a fake smile.  “You’re welcome.”  A few more steps and you’re in the ladies’ room, which only serves to make matters worse when you step into an open stall.  As you turn around to lock the door, you can see your entire head in the mirror, poking out above the top.  A pair of women walk in and they giggle, so you quickly sit down.  There’s no point in taking it personally – it actually happens quite a bit in older buildings and you can fully admit that the sight is pretty funny – so you compose yourself and do what you came in to do.  You slouch when you stand in order to avoid accidentally looking into one of the neighboring stalls and go to the vanity to wash up.

Even the sink mocks you by making you bend almost in half to reach the water.

A woman with dark hair and bright red lips exits the far-right stall and joins you at the mirror.  “Oh wow, your shoes and dress are so pretty!”

“Thank you.”

“Did you come from the wedding at the ballroom?”

“Mmm hmm.”  You glance at her shorts and flowery sleeveless top and swallow your sigh – you feel like a fucking behemoth next to her.  “I think maybe I should have stopped by my motel room to change.”

“No, you look really nice!” She smiles up at you, “It’s really not unusual to have people dressed up in here on the weekends, you’re just earlier than we usually see it.  I’ll give you a tip, though, in case your feet start to hurt.  I know the place looks kinda crusty, but the owners take a lot of pride in it.  The floors are clean if you choose to go barefoot.”

Her unexpected kindness surprises you; you’re usually shunned by other women when you’re at a bar because all they see is your height, which they erroneously perceive to be an advantage in attracting men.  “Thank you. That’s really good to know.”  She turns to leave but you stop her when you notice something wrong with her shirt. “Hey, hon, you’re missing a button.”  The poor girl is busty, and she’s likely been flashing an unintentionally generous amount of cleavage for who knows how long.

She looks down and immediately sees the gap in her shirt.  “Well, shit.  I just bought this shirt.  No wonder some of the guys couldn’t look me in the eye.  Stupid boobs, always trying to pop out.  Why can’t they just make clothes that fit real people?”

“I feel ya,” you mutter as you start digging through your purse.  “Hold on, I’ve got something…here, try some of this.”

“Scotch tape?”  She looks confused as she takes it.

“Double sided tape.”

Her eyes get wide as she gazes up at you.  “You’re a genius.  And an angel. An angelic genius!”  She takes some and fixes her shirt, smiling brightly. Thank you so much!!”

Despite your incredibly shittastic day, you find yourself warming to her.  She’s nice.  “You’re welcome!  I didn’t want a bunch of creeps leering at you.  In a world of Chads, we women really need to stick together.”

“Oh, God, you met Chad?” She grimaces and shakes her head, “I’d like to apologize on behalf of the entire town.  He and his friends are not a good representation of the rest of us, I promise.  They don’t even live here, they were just permanently banned from the bar in the next town over and now they’re our problem, apparently.  But I promise, the rest of the people here are alright.”  She sticks out her hand, “I’m Peggy, by the way.”

You shake her calloused hand and give her your name.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. If you feel like some company, just come find me.  My friends and I will probably be here for a while, and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thank you, I might just do that.”  You flash a smile, genuine this time, and go back to your seat at the bar.  What the hell, maybe you’ll take her up on her offer after you finish your drink.  

A minute passes, maybe two, before someone takes the barstool next to you.

It’s him.  The gorgeous brunette.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”  You want to roll your eyes at your reply. Smooth.  Real smooth.

“My uh, my friends pointed out that I was rude earlier, so I wanted to apologize.”

You turn to him quizzically, giving him your full attention.  Is this really the same guy that was playing pool?  The sexy one that projected ‘bad ass’?  “For what?”  

His cheeks grow pink and it throws you off guard.  “It’s not nice to stare.  My ma taught me better than that – she’d slap me into next week if she saw how I acted. I ain’t usually like that, I’ve just never seen, uh…”

Here it comes.  The ‘I’ve never seen such a tall woman’ comment that leaves you feeling like a roadside circus freak show.

“Well, you just got an amazing smile.”

Wait, what?  “Huh?”

“I’ve never seen such a pretty smile.”  He shrugs and studies the bar top.  “Your eyes looked sad, though.  I dunno. I guess I was tryin’ to figure you out.” He turns back to you with an almost obnoxiously handsome grin, “My name’s Bucky Barnes.  Can I make it up to you?  Buy you a drink?”  

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to gauge his intent.  He seems genuine enough – he’s either a brilliant actor or you seriously misjudged him, which, in your current cynical mindset, is entirely possible.

You look up to see Clint watching as he dries some glasses.  Maybe he has some insight.  Is this guy decent?  He’s gorgeous but does he have a personality?  

Clint snorts, glancing at Bucky then back to you.   Yeah. He’s a pretty good guy.  He’ll treat you right.

Bucky looks like he’s swallowing a smile when you turn back to him.  “Yeah, I guess you can make it up to me.”

“Really?”  He seems genuinely happy at the prospect.

“Sure.”

“Great!”  Apparently that’s all the invitation he needs to turn on the charm.  “So what’s a gorgeous girl like you doin’ in a dump like this?

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh.

“No,” he shakes his head sheepishly, “It’s not.  Guess I’m really off my game today.  I can usually flirt, I promise.”

A beer and another daiquiri appear on the counter.  “Thanks, man,” Bucky nods to Clint.  “Hey, you wanna grab a table?”  He nods his head to the side of the bar by the jukebox.  “It’s quieter there.  We can chat and I can show you that I ain’t, in fact, the dumbass I’ve made myself out to be.”

“Yeah, okay.”  Why not?  Even if you don’t know Clint enough to trust him, the kids that you work with do, and you trust their judgement.  So if Clint says that Bucky is decent, you’ll believe him.

***

It ends up being a good choice.  Bucky turns out to be more than decent – he’s really nice, funny, respectful, keeps his eyes where they belong, and doesn’t ask if you play basketball.

He asks the basic questions and learns that you live about an hour north of here, that you’re an interpreter, you love to read, write, and draw, and yes, you were at a wedding. Tired of talking about yourself, you take advantage of him pausing to drink his beer and flip the topic.

“So what do you do?”

Bucky takes a deep breath and sighs. “I’m a mission systems engineer with NASA.”

You blink at him.  “I’m sorry, you’re what?”

“A mission systems engineer with NASA.  I know, I –“

“Do you have top secret clearance?”

He looks thoroughly confused.  “That’s your first question?”

“Do you?  Or would you have to kill me if you told me?  Have you been to space?  Does the government have a plan for if an asteroid comes our way, or would we have to do like the movie Armageddon and wing it with a bunch of oil rig operators?”

Bucky appears to be absolutely delighted at your string of questions.  “Well, yes, no, unfortunately no, and I can’t tell you that because has to do with national security.”

“Fascinating.”  You sit back, thoroughly intrigued by the man sitting across from you. “What the hell are you doing in a podunk town like this? Shouldn’t you be in Houston?  Or D.C.?”

“I live here.” He chuckles at your unimpressed stare. “Yeah, I know it’s a small town – we got a bar, three churches, a motel, a gas station, and a diner that closes by 7 pm every day.  Our biggest draw is the ballroom on the lake shore and the hunting grounds in the fall. It ain’t exactly the heart of modern technology.  But I grew up here, my family and friends are here, and I stick around to help out on their farm.  I fly into Headquarters a few times a year, but otherwise I work remotely.”

“So what do you do?”

“The general gist of it is that I lead a team that designs, develops, and deploys missions.”

“To space?”

“Well, I mean, I work for NASA…”

“What are you working on now?”  You can’t help peppering him with questions – this is so fucking cool.

His eyes sparkle.  “You got top secret clearance?”

“No.”

“Sorry.  Can’t tell you anything,” he shrugs with a smirk.

“I…yeah, I guess I kind of walked right into that.  Wow.  So you’re really freaking smart.”

“I hope so!”

“Do you like it?”

“Being smart?”

“Your job, dipshit.”

He laughs, freely and openly, and it’s an amazing sound.  “I love it.”

You can’t help but stare at him.  “Wow. That’s…that’s just really, really fucking incredible.”

Bucky gets quiet.  “It is really incredible.  Thank you for thinking so.”  He looks up, then back down as he starts peeling the label off his empty bottle of beer. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve told about my job that didn’t either tell me I don’t look smart enough to be a mission systems engineer or ask me how much money I make.”  He meets your eyes again.  “Or both.  I get that a lot, too.”

You certainly know how shitty it feels to get those kinds of unsolicited comments based solely on appearance.  It’s one thing to have an impression, but to just say those things out loud?  “Well, they suck.  And they’re truly shallow if they think intelligence has anything to do with how you look.  But hey, at least they show their true colors right away so you can save yourself some time.” You lean forward, chin in hand, “Okay, so I know you can’t tell me about your actual projects, but can you tell me about your job?  What are your responsibilities?  What does a mission systems engineer do?”

Bucky lights up like New York City and spends the next 40 minutes going into detail about what he does, and you hang on every word; it’s impossible not to, really.  His enthusiasm for what he does is so evident that even if the topic weren’t interesting, you’d still be entranced.  And you thought he was gorgeous before?  His animated passion makes him absolutely breathtaking.

You’ve both finished your drinks and, perhaps not so surprisingly, he switches to soda when you do. When unordered appetizers arrive with your new drinks, you both look over to Clint, who just winks and shrugs.

“Well I ain’t gonna complain.  Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”  Bucky shoves an entire ham and cheese ball into his mouth, but then has to hasashafahasa because it must have just come out of the fryer.  “Ish hot!  Rearry hot!”

Bursting into laugher, you slide your ice water to him before cautiously taking a bite of your buffalo wing. Considering how much fun you’ve had in the last hour, it isn’t all that surprising that your appetite has returned. “Me neither.”

The hours fly by as the conversation eventually turns to other topics, and you find yourself talking about things you wouldn’t expect considering you’ve just met.  Bucky seems so open and honest that it’s difficult not to reciprocate, and if one doesn’t go into detail about what the other asks, it’s only because there’s so much to cover.  

Bucky dips the last bit of pretzel into the beer cheese sauce and pops it into his mouth.  “So if you don’t mind me asking, what made those pretty eyes of yours so sad?”

You take a long sip of your Coke Zero as you debate your next move.  Deflect or come clean?  You surprise yourself when you blurt out, “My aunt, Lydia.”

“Your aunt?”

You squirm a bit at the uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability, but you keep going.  “Yeah.  It was her daughter that got married today.  Marie and I grew up together – Lydia is my mom’s only sister, so she was the one that took care of me when my mom had to work double shifts, which was a lot. She did the best she could, and she means well, she really does, but she’s just so caught up with appearances. My height is a, uh, a definite sore spot with her.”

“Really?  Why?  What does it matter?”

“I think it comes down to the appearance thing.  Tall women are generally seen as less feminine, even straight up masculine.  Lydia is tall, too – not quite as tall as me, but close.  She claims that she got her husband through making herself appear daintier.  She only wears flats and follows all the newest fad diets to make herself as small as she can because she feels that being a tall woman puts her at a distinct disadvantage.”  You shrug, “She was one of the primary examples I grew up with. And to be fair, it’s not like she’s completely wrong.  In my experience, guys tend to feel emasculated by me.  And it’s not just men that seem to see me through a distorted lens.  Even from a young age – I’m talking 4th grade – I’d hear teachers tell my mom that I seemed so much more mature than my peers, that I didn’t need as much support, emotional or academic, as everyone else.  I got additional responsibilities and higher expectations.  The thing is, I wasn’t more mature.  I was just tall, so I looked more mature.  Eventually it kind of came true, though.  Other than my mom, who was single and working 2 jobs to keep me housed and fed, I didn’t really have anyone that would protect me or support me.  I guess no one thought I needed it, so I just got used to doing it myself.”

Bucky shakes his head, and you can’t tell if his expression is one of pity, sadness, anger, or something else.  

“But Lydia made everything a hundred times worse than it needed to be.  I already knew I was outside the norm, I didn’t need the reminders. But every time I’d hit a growth spurt she would share some nasty comment on it, as if telling me that boys didn’t like tall girls would somehow stop my bones from stretching.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Mmm hmm.  Despite my mom’s efforts – and the fact that being tall is actually pretty awesome – Lydia’s words really got under my skin, and even now they undermine my confidence sometimes.”  You gesture to yourself and the bar, “Obviously.  I should be at my cousin’s wedding right now.  I don’t go to many family functions anymore, because of her.  It just…it puts my head in a bad place.  You know, they say it takes five to seven positive comments to balance out one negative comment?  The negative is in everything she says.  Everything.  I love my family to pieces, but I just can’t handle her.”

“What did she say to you today?”  If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Bucky is getting pissed.  

“She met me at the door of the chapel with a pair of her ugly black penny loafers.  Said that she told the photographer that I wasn’t allowed in any family pictures unless I was wearing them, because she didn’t want my Amazonian ass towering over everyone else and ruining the aesthetic.”

“Your…your ‘Amazonian ass’?”

“Eh,” you shrug and wave your hand dismissively.  “It’s not the first time I’ve been called an Amazon and far from the worst thing people have said. I mean, people say it to be cruel, but Amazons were fearless warriors.  I just think of it as being put in the same class as Wonder Woman.  The part that hurt was that she was prepared to make sure I wasn’t in the pictures, that she thought she could just erase my existence, simply because I’m too tall for her liking.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “I might be overstepping here, but what a heartless bitch.  No one should ever try to erase you, what a fucking idiot.”

“She browbeat Marie into dyeing her hair blonde for the wedding.  Marie hates it, but did it for her mom’s approval.”  You release a deep sigh, “But that’s Lydia, and that’s why I took my Amazonian ass out of there the second the ceremony was over.”

“Hmmmm.”  He gazes at you.  “You know she’s a princess, right?  

“Huh?”

“Wonder Woman.  She’s a princess. You know…Amazon Princess…it actually kinda suits you.”

“Seriously?”

“Damn right I’m serious. You’re tall?  So what.  You’re fuckin’ royalty.  Own it, Princess.  Correct ‘em. Make ‘em say it.  Amazon Princess.”  

“What?”

“Yep.  Say it with me.  Amazon Princess.”

You can’t help rolling your eyes, but there’s something undeniably sweet about the way he’s pressing the issue. It’s not good enough for him that it doesn’t bother you – he wants it to be seen as a term of empowerment and to let people know that’s how you see it.

The moment is interrupted when a booming voice comes through the sound system.  “Alright everybody, it’s ten o’clock!”  Someone stands on the stage, holding a mike and looking more than a little tipsy.  “You know what that means!”

The bar cheers, “Free jukebox!”

A line forms immediately, and the music starts.

“Wanna dance, Princess?”

“Really?  You’re going to call me ‘Princess’ now?”

He shrugs with darkening eyes and a suggestive smirk.  “If it’s okay with you.”

If he keeps looking at you the way he’s looking at you right now, he can call you whatever he damn well pleases.  But he doesn’t need to know that.  “Yeah,” you murmur.  His gaze is so intense that you have to look around the bar to break it and gather your thoughts.  You happen to see Peggy; she’s standing next to the blonde that had been playing pool with Bucky, so she must know him.  She catches your eye, sees who you’re with, and gives a thumbs up with a huge grin. Well, alright then.  You grin back and remember what she said.  “Let’s dance.”

Bucky stands, stopping when he sees you toeing off your heels.  “Woah, what’re you doing?”

“Taking off my shoes?”

He shakes his head, “Princess, you don’t need to do that.  I ain’t too fragile to dance with a woman taller than me.”

“I know,” and you do, “But I can’t dance in these.  And my feet hurt.”

When you stand, you’re almost eye to eye with Bucky; if he were barefoot as well, you would be.

People are still lined up at the jukebox, selecting their favorites.  It’s exactly the mix you would expect from a place like this – classic songs like Brown Eyed Girl, Summer of ’69, and Footloose with more modern tunes sprinkled in  – the kind of music that gets everyone up and dancing.

Bucky is a great dance partner, and you’re having an absolute blast.  You don’t think about your aunt, the wedding that you’re supposed to be at, or how you are, without a doubt, the tallest woman in the bar.  He laughs, showing off the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, obviously enjoying himself, too.  

The jukebox switches songs again, and on comes the relentless, even rhythm of Black Velvet.  For the first few measures, you just stare at each other.  It’s the first song to play that isn’t upbeat, and you don’t know what to do until he makes the first move and pulls you close – close enough to breathe each other in. He stares as Alannah Myles’ smokey voice drifts over the steady bass, then spins you so your back is to him.  

If Bucky’s a good dance partner for upbeat music, he’s even better when it’s slow like this, when every move counts.  He’s enough to handle you, and more than confident enough to do so.

Bucky stays behind you, mirroring you with his hands resting gently at your waist.  Your back is against his chest, but his hips keep their distance. Just to experiment, you press yours back and hear a guttural “fuck” before he intentionally shifts.

Bucky is absolutely nothing that you expected.  “You’re a gentleman.”

You can feel the dark chuckle rumbles through him. “I wouldn’t say that, Princess.”  He spins you around, pulling you close but not too close, and runs his thumb along your neck.  “I just ain’t in the habit of taking what ain’t mine.”

His voice sends a shiver down your spine.  Fuck. You like him.  One night stands aren’t usually your thing…but that’s not what this feels like.  He feels familiar.  Safe.  You like him, and he sure seems to like you. Your mind is already made up – you’ll take the chance and see what happens.  You hardly recognize your own voice when you ask, “Do you want me to be?”

“Thought I was makin’ it obvious.  Yes.”  He doesn’t hesitate and his eyes don’t leave yours.  “Are you offering?”  

You move your hand to the back of his neck and lightly scratch, watching with satisfaction as his pupils dilate even more than they were.  His lips part when you pull him closer, but he waits for you to close the kiss.

The second you do, his hands slide down to your lower hips before he tightens his grip.  He’s not timid; he kisses you as though you’re a well-known lover, deeply and intensely, without bothering with introductions.  

Bucky suddenly breaks the kiss, spinning you around again to pull your back against his chest.  This time, though, he allows his hips to rock into yours with the rhythm of the music, slow and steady and insatiable.  The way he moves makes it impossible not to think about fucking him; hell, you’re practically halfway there already.  His hands alternate holding you tightly to his body, maximizing contact, and running up and down your sides.  Your head falls back when his mouth finds your neck, and your legs go weak when his teeth nibble that spot beneath your ear.

You’ve never been so turned on in your life.

His voice is thick when his lips find your ear, “Wanna get out of here?”

You nod, taking his hand to lead him back to the table to collect your things.  “I’ve got a room at the motel a block away.”

“Good.”

When you take one last look around, you see Clint, still behind the bar, grinning at you like an absolute idiot.  Have fun!

“Oh my God,” you mutter under your breath, but you can’t completely hide the smile.

You step outside to find that the unbearable heat of the day has eased somewhat now that the sun has set. It’s still warm as the humid air kisses your skin, but with the breeze it’s sultry rather than oppressive.

You and Bucky look up at the same time – the stars are barely visible through the haze of clouds. There’s a thunderstorm rolling in on the western horizon.

Bucky walks you to your car, making sure you’re in safely before getting in his own truck and following you to the motel.  He jumps out of his vehicle and pushes you against the car the second you’re out of it, kissing you like it’s been days and not 2 minutes since his lips were last on yours.  

He doesn’t stop until the first few raindrops hit your skin.  Bucky looks up while you grab your purse and your aunt’s shoes out of the car, gathering them clumsily before locking the door.  It takes a minute for you to get your room key out of your purse, but you finally manage.

“Looks like the storm is already here.  Gonna be a good one if it got here that fast.”  He takes your hand, “Which room are you in?”

“Up the steps, furthest door on the left.”

Bucky leads you to the stairs as you both laugh while trying unsuccessfully to dodge the increasingly fat drops of rain.  He doesn’t let go of your hand until you need to unlock the door, and the second you hear the click of the lock, his lips are on yours again.  He pushes the door open and guides you through, closing the door behind him with a well-placed kick.  You drop your purse and the loafers, then step out of your heels as he toes his shoes off.  Still connected at the lips, he doesn’t see the things on the floor and trips over one of your stilettos.

“Oh shit!”  His eyes are huge, staring up into yours when he realizes he isn’t going to hit the floor because you’ve caught him by the arm. “Good catch, Princess.”  Both of you start laughing as he stands up straight, but the laughter dies out when his mouth find yours again.  Hungry hands roam your body while you reach beneath his shirt so your fingers can explore the taut muscles you just know are hiding beneath it.  Bucky grabs the collar behind his neck and pulls the shirt off altogether, and you are not disappointed.  “You like what you see, huh?”  

“Damn right I do.”  You’re breathless, pressing your lips against the salty skin of his collarbone.

“You sure know how to use that mouth of yours, don’t ya?”  He groans, then reaches down to grab the hem of your dress to lift it over your head before tossing it to the side.   “Goddamn, darlin.”  Bucky eyeballs you like a starving man at a feast before his mouth is back on yours, then moves his lips to the top of your breasts while he reaches around to unclasp your bra.  It joins your discarded dress as he pulls you close, groaning at the feel of your naked breasts pressed against his chest.  “I don’t know what the fuck I did to deserve you walkin’ into that bar tonight,” he bites your neck and you can’t stop the light whimper, “but I ain’t gonna complain. I’m gonna make you feel so good, Princess, I promise.”

You believe him.  And you cannot wait.

The two of you somehow manage to take a couple of steps toward the bed.  “I’ve wanted to do this since you smiled at me after givin’ me that chalk.  Those eyes, that smile, that dress, those fuckin’ sexy shoes.”  His hands find your hips, hooking your panties with his thumbs to push them down so you can step out of them.  “When we started dancin’ all I could think about was what it would feel like havin’ your legs wrapped around me, I want you so damn bad.”

You unbutton his jeans and fumble with the zipper, then pull his jeans and boxer briefs down at the same time, freeing a fully hard cock that is nothing short of glorious.  “Then either figure out how to multitask or stop talking and fuck me already.”

Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

He kicks off his remaining garments before pushing you against the nearest vertical surface – which happens to be the middle of the window, where there’s a strip of metal supporting the two panes of glass.  You aren’t sitting on the ledge, just leaning against it to keep your balance.  It occurs to you that maybe you should close the curtains, but you’re too far gone to care enough to do anything about it.

“Don’t you worry, Princess. I can do both.”  His arm is looped around your waist to hold you steady while your upper back presses against the cold strip of metal.  You’ve got one arm hooked around his neck and the other steadying yourself on the edge of the windowsill.  Bucky reaches down, takes hold of your thigh and lifts it to his hip. He lets go of your waist just long enough to guide his cock to your entrance – and he can slide right in because you’re so damn wet – and fuck, the way he stretches you is delicious.

“Christ, you’re so damn fuckable,” he moans in your ear, sending shivers throughout your entire body. “So fucking perfect…don’t need a bed or a chair, I can fuck you anywhere I want.  I could just bend you over, wouldn’t even need a wall.”  Between his thrusts, which are as maddeningly steady and slow as his dancing, the cool metal of the windowpane at your upper back, the flickers of lightening, and the crashes of thunder, it’s almost sensory overload. He’s holding you so tightly that you can’t move your hips much, so you’re completely at his mercy.  And he knows it.

Each move he makes is a sin; the angle you’re at all but guarantees he’s stroking your clit with every move.  Delirious with the sensations flooding your brain, you can only babble nonsense.  

“What’s that, Princess? Use your words, darlin,” Bucky

“So…so good…I, huh…”

He chuckles darkly, “What was that?”

He’s not playing fair but you really don’t mind – his confidence with you is a rarity and is such a fucking turn on.  “More.”

“More?  You want me to fuck you harder?  Is that right?”  He waits for your nod before flashing a wicked grin lit by lightning, then adjusts his grip on your thigh.  “Anything you want, Princess, you get.”

His thrusts come harder and faster, multiplying your pleasure tenfold.  Then he shifts his hand on your thigh, changing the support from holding it up to pushing it back, opening you further and allowing him to go even deeper.

Oh, oh fuck…

Your entire body clenches with your orgasm, so tightly you can’t even breathe, and your mouth opens in a silent scream.

Bucky follows you just seconds later with a growl of your name against your neck and a few last ragged movements.

He releases your thigh as he gently pulls out, but he doesn’t take his arm from around your waist. You lift yourself onto the windowsill, pulling him between your legs as you hold each other close and catch your breath while the storm rages outside.  He keeps his face buried in your neck as you run your fingers up and down his back, calming you both.  The thunder rumbles violently while lightning dances in the sky, but it doesn’t worry you. You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of a storm.

Eventually your legs start to fall asleep, so you begin to move.  Bucky notices and hikes both of your thighs up to his hips before guiding your arms up around his neck.  “Hold on, Princess.”  He reaches down and lifts you, carrying you the 5 feet to the bed.  After laying you down, he begins kissing you again, then starts exploring your body.  “I love being cradled in your thighs like this, but there’s something else I wanna try,” he whispers as he starts crawling down.  “Now I can take my time with you.”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where he’s going.  “Really? Um, maybe I should shower first?” You’re sweaty from the heat of the day and just had some really incredible sex, so there’s no doubt in your mind that things are less than fresh down there.

“If you want to.”  He keeps on his slow descent, kissing everything in his path, “But I’m happy with you just like this.  I want you, right now, as you are.”

“But don’t you –“

“No.  I don’t.”  There’s a challenge in his eyes when he looks up from his destination.  “I don’t care.”  And then Bucky dives in, devouring your pussy like he’d devoured your mouth.  He’s got you writhing in moments, all worries gone. But he’s a goddamn tease now that the initial urgency has been satisfied, bringing you to the edge and then backing off again and again in a beautiful torture.

You can’t do dirty talk to save your life, but you’re about to start begging when he finally looks up, chin glistening before he wipes it away with the back of his hand.  “Fucking delicious.”  Between the sight of him, his voice, and the sensations you’re feeling, your brain just about short circuits.  Then his fingers start to circle your entrance, teasing you, making you want more before he slowly pushes two in and curls them to press against that spot, and fuck it can’t feel any better, but then somehow it does.  You pull a pillow over your face but he shifts, reaching up to yank it back off and throw it across the room.  “No way, Princess, I wanna hear what I do to you,” he rasps, watching you with hungry eyes and a feral grin.  You’re almost there…almost…and then he puts his mouth back on your clit and your universe implodes.

One orgasm blends into another and you allow him to push your limits until you can’t handle it anymore. “Stop,” you gasp, and he does immediately.  “I’m – it’s too much.  I…wow.” You’re so oversensitive at this point that if he breathes too hard, you might jump out of your skin.

Bucky crawls his way back up to you, dropping kisses on your hot skin as he goes.  “You’re incredible, you know that?  I love how your body responds to me, I fucking love it.”

He kisses you again, and despite your sensitivity, your hunger for him grows.  Sitting up, you pull him with you then push him down to the mattress.  “Fuck yes,” he whispers hoarsely when you straddle him and slide down, pausing to glide your pussy along his hardened cock, but then you slide down a little farther before spreading his legs so you can kneel between them.  

It’s impossible not to groan aloud when your hands find his thighs; thick, tight, and incredibly well formed, they look like they were sculpted by a generous god.  “I might have to ride one of these later.”

“Please –“  Bucky swallows hard and licks his lips as he watches you in the dim, sporadically flickering light, “Please do.”

One hand moves to palm his balls while you part your lips to take him in as far as you can, reveling in his heaviness on your tongue while using your hand to stroke the base of his cock. You give it a bit, waiting until he’s writhing beneath you before you pull off and redirect your attention.  His eyes grow wide when your fingers start moving down beneath his balls to his taint, pressing gently to find the very root of his cock which will then lead you to the spot you’re looking for.  Pressing firmly when you find it, you begin rubbing tight circles.

“What are you – oh.  Oh.  Oh, fuck, Princess, oh fuck!”

It’s ridiculously satisfying to see him reduced to the same whimpering, quivering puddle you were not so long ago.  You make him come once, twice, three times without ejaculating, just because you can.  

Bucky’s got his forearm resting over his eyes as he shakes his head, and you take advantage of his distraction to shift your body into position.  “Holy shit.” He’s breathless, shaking,  “I did not know I had a spot that could do that.  Fuck.  I – oh Christ…“

You slide onto his cock, smiling when his hands automatically reach to grip your hips – the biology and technique can be explained later.  Leaning over, you kiss him deeply then stretch your arms above him to grip the headboard.  Rocking your hips slowly, so slowly, you watch him watch you.

Bucky’s lips form words but nothing comes out except for sighs and soft moans as you become more and more intoxicated by his need for you.  His hands wander up and down, touching your breasts, hips, ass, and everything in between until he pulls you down for another kiss.  “Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are?  You feel so good.  So fucking good.  Wanna make you feel good.  As good as you make me feel.”  Bucky kisses you again, sloppily, then wraps an arm tightly around you before flipping you both.

Now that you’re on the bottom and he’s back in control, he picks up the pace considerably.

You certainly aren’t about to complain.

His hands are grasping yours, holding them over your head, and your legs are locked around his hips as his thrusts eventually begin to lose their impeccable rhythm.  

Now neither of you are in control.

The pleasure has been steadily building, an inevitable tidal wave on the horizon.  Maybe it’s his confidence, maybe he’s naturally gifted, maybe it’s that his body seems to fit with yours just right.  Whatever it is, this is by far the best sex you’ve ever had, and despite already having multiple orgasms, your appetite for him seems to be insatiable because you’re greedy for the next one.

“Fuck, Princess, it feels so good having those legs wrapped around me,” he pants, “Goddamn, I can – I can feel you’re right there.  I ain’t gonna last much longer, come for me, darlin, give it to me now.  Oh Christ yes, that’s right, just – just like that.”

Your body obeys, giving him exactly what he wants.  The velvet sound of his voice, his incessant dirty talk, the way he smells and tastes – everything about him adds to your pleasure induced stupor.  The orgasm is so powerful that everything but Bucky goes black, and the only thing keeping you tethered to this world is the way he chants your name as he comes.

His body continues to cover yours as you wait for your racing pulse to slow.  He presses kisses to your neck, cheeks, lips, and eyelids, and finally your forehead before he gently lifts himself off to lay next to you. “C’mere,” he pulls you to him, and when you rest your head on his chest you can hear how fast his heart is still beating.

Thoroughly sated and soothed by the feel of his fingertips on your skin, it’s tempting to give in and fall asleep.  But not yet. Not if you want to sleep through the night.

Reluctantly, you rise. Maybe, if you’re really fast, maybe he’ll still be here when you get back.  It’s probably not the sane thing to do, but you really, really want him to stay the night.

“Where you going?”  Is that trepidation you hear in his voice?

You smile as you take in the sight of him lying in the bed, disheveled and clearly satisfied. “I need to shower.  And wash my face – I need to get my makeup off.  My eyes are getting itchy.”

“Can I join you?”  He laughs at your raised eyebrow, “No, Princess, not like that.  I’m gonna need some time to recover.”

“That’s good to know,” you smirk, “I was starting to wonder if you were a god wearing a mortal’s skin.”

Bucky blushes.  It’s adorable.  “Nah, no god here.  Just a man that’s never wanted a woman so bad before.  Still do,” he shrugs, “Just too worn out at the moment to do anything about it. You’re somethin’ special, I hope you know that.”

It’s your turn to feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you hold out your hand to help him up.  

The shower is tender and sweet, full of soft kisses and softer touches.  This man just keeps surprising you.

He’s toweling off his hair when his eyes meet yours in the vanity mirror.  “Is it okay if I stay?”

A slow smile spreads across your face – you couldn’t stop it if you tried.  “I’d like that.”  You slip into fresh panties and a tank top, turning to face him fully to admit, “I’d like that a lot.”  Bucky beams at you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and heads to the bed. You finish up a few minutes later and crawl in, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.  There’s nothing to hide behind – no makeup, no cocktail dress, no drink.  It’s just you, and this is a state that very few people see you in; no one you’ve ever dated has seen you this vulnerable until months have gone by.  Some didn’t see you this way at all.  “Don’t look too close.  I’m very unglamorous and monochrome without makeup.”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare in yours.  “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”  His fingers trace your freshly moisturized skin.  “I think you’re beautiful.”

Outside, the thunderstorm has exhausted itself.  He pulls you close and breathes you in, and you both fall asleep to the sound of gentle rain.

***

When the sun peeks through the gap in the curtains at 6 am, you’re not even mad that you’re awake.  The sight of Bucky lying peacefully next to you is something you’re thoroughly enjoying.

“You’re staring.”  His voice, deep and gravelly, rumbles lightly into the silence as he opens his eyes.  “It’s because I’m decent and gorgeous with a personality, right?”

“What?”

Bucky smirks as he stretches and sits up.  “I should probably come clean.  The bartender from last night?  My parents took him and his sister in after their parents were killed in an accident. Clint and Carrie were lucky to survive – he lost his hearing and six months of memories and she was in the ICU for 3 weeks.  He and I have practically been brothers since grade school.”

It takes a minute, but you finally put the pieces together.  Oh.  Well, shit.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop; I was just really surprised to see you sign so I didn’t look away fast enough. I’m sorry.”

You sit up and slap him lightly on the shoulder.  “So, you knew what I asked him?

His smile broadens as he gives you puppy dog eyes.  Yes. Please don’t be mad.

You try not to smile back as you think about it but lose the battle and shrug.  “I’m not mad.  Maybe a little embarrassed, but we’ve known each other for what, 12 hours?  It’s not like you can tell me everything about you in that short amount of time.”  You give him some serious side eye, “Although you could have mentioned that when I told you what I do for a living.”

He studies your eyes like he’s trying to see into your soul.  “I told you a lot, though.”

“You did.  We both did.”  It surprises you, more than a little, that you aren’t horrified at how open and honest you’ve been with him.

Bucky reaches his hand up to cup your cheek and he pulls you in for a kiss.  “Good morning, beautiful.”  It seems like he doesn’t want to part, because he rests his forehead against yours.

Somehow your hand finds his neck, and you gently rub your thumb along his jawline.  “Good morning, Bucky.”

His stomach grumbles. Loudly.  “Wanna grab some breakfast, Princess?”

It makes you a stupid amount of happy that he’s not ready to leave you just yet.  “Yeah.  I just need a little bit to get ready.”

A half hour later, Bucky opens the passenger side door of his pickup.  “Your chariot, Princess.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking his offered hand and climbing in.  It’s an older truck, one with a bench seat, and it smells of hay, Bucky’s cologne, and sweat.  It’s not what you’d expected, but it suits him.

In this tiny little town nothing is open at this hour on a Sunday morning, so Bucky pulls his pickup onto the interstate to head to a fast food restaurant a few miles away.  You take the time to look around – the area is really pretty and reminds you of the drive to your grandparents’ house, all farmland and pastures.  Of course, you can’t help but stare at the horses whenever you pass them.  “Whoa.  They must breed Appaloosas.”

Bucky takes a quick glance out your window.  “Yeah, that’s the Carter farm.  They raise Appaloosas and alpacas.”  He’s quiet for a moment.  “You like horses?  Not everyone can randomly pick out that breed.”

“I love horses,” you murmur, smiling broadly when you spot a few foals among the herd.  You’re too busy looking at them to notice how he looks at you.

***

Breakfast is simple, just something picked up at a drive thru window, but that’s perfectly fine with you. Bucky doesn’t pull back onto the interstate though, he instead starts driving the winding country roads.  You don’t mind in the least; you simply sip your coffee, content to be exactly where you are.  Considering the hour, you aren’t even grumpy.  Stealing glance at the reason why, you hide your smile and take another sip.

Bucky’s fingers drum almost nervously against the wheel, then he seems to make a decision as he brakes sharply.  “Sorry, Princess,” he smiles sheepishly, “You up for a picnic?  I know a spot.”

His smile is infectious. “Yeah.”

He takes the left he stopped so quickly for, and then another left onto a dirt road, and a mile later he turns onto what looks like a seldom used service trail leading up to a fenced in pasture.  “Just a sec,” he pulls the truck to a stop, then gets out to open a gate.  Bucky quickly climbs back in, drives the truck through about 20 feet before turning in a tight circle to face the road, and closes the gate behind him before stepping up to your door.  “I got some blankets, do you want to sit in the truck bed with me?”

“Of course.”

He gets the blankets and spreads them out while you grab the food and coffees, handing them to him before you climb in after him.

“I would’ve helped you in, Princess.”

“Bucky.  I’m not five feet tall.  I can get into the back of a truck.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m fully aware of that.  But unlike the other shmucks you seem to have come across in your life, I ain’t gonna make you do something by yourself just because you can.  You deserve consideration and chivalry, too.”

What do you even say to that?  He’s the exact opposite of pretty much everything you’ve ever known.  It’s nice.

He sits down against a box that is attached to the back of the cab.  “C’mere.  You look cold.”  

It was hot when you’d packed your overnight bag so you’ve only got a tee shirt and shorts on, and luckily a hoodie that just happened to be in the backseat of your car.  “I am, a little,” you admit as you curl into his side, allowing him to cover your legs with another blanket that he’s pulled out.

He eats one handed, keeping an arm around you to keep you close and warm.

Everything smells clean and fresh now that the storm went through, and the morning air is chilly but fresh with the light breeze.  The radio plays softly, drifting through the open windows as you and Bucky eat and watch the fluffy white clouds drift by.  It’s the best picnic you’ve ever had, hands down.

“So where are we? It’s beautiful here.”

“My parents’ farm.”

You turn to stare at him. “This is where you grew up?”

“Yep.”

“Lucky.”

“I am.  Hey, I wanna introduce you to someone.”  He stands suddenly, not waiting for a reply.  You’re in the middle of a pasture, who the hell is there for you to meet?  Bucky brings his fingers to his lips and lets out the sort of piercing whistle that you’ve never managed to master.

And then…and then…

“Are you fucking serious.” Eyes wide, you bring yourself to a kneeling position as a steel grey Percheron comes galloping full speed towards the truck.  “Bucky!”

He turns toward you, face almost split in two by his grin.  The horse slows down, circling the truck and whickering before coming to a full stop right at the tailgate.  

“I’d like you to meet Sergeant.”  

“Oh my God, Bucky, he’s stunning,” you breathe, unable to help yourself as you slowly move forward to sit at the edge of the open tailgate.   Intelligent eyes take you in before a velvet muzzle finds your hand.  “Sorry buddy, I don’t have any treats for you.  But I do have ear scratches,” you murmur, firmly stroking the planes of his face before scratching behind his ears.  You giggle when he sighs, and again when he mouths gently at your hair.  

Bucky beams with pride as he pulls an apple out of the box you’d been leaning against, feeding it to Sergeant before sitting on the tailgate next to you.  “I’ve had him for 20 years.  I got him when he was just a colt.  Trained him myself.  He’s one of the reasons why I choose to work remotely – I just can’t imagine not getting to see him.”

“I don’t blame you at all, I don’t think I could’ve left this sweetheart either.”  Sergeant blows gently in your face, then nuzzles you hard enough to push you backwards.  “Oh my goodness, you are just a big baby, aren’t you, Sarge?  Oh, you like that?  That spot right there?”  You laugh lightly as the giant horse stretches his neck toward you, seeming to thoroughly enjoy how you scratch just beneath where his mane grows.

“He likes you.”  Sergeant looks over when Bucky speaks, but then turns back to you.

“Well, I like him.” Feeling eyes on you, you turn to Bucky. “What, are you jealous?” you tease.

“Yes.”  Bucky cradles your face in both his hands and begins kissing you.  Before you know it, you’re lying in the truck bed with him, making out like a couple of teenagers out past curfew.  Time slows even as it moves, and you’d swear the minutes stretched into a blissful forever as you lay in his embrace.  But the real world likes to force its way in, and the distant sound of a car’s horn brings you both back to your senses.

Sergeant is about 50 feet away, grazing peacefully as Bucky pulls out his phone to check the time.  “We, uh, we should get going.  I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands to myself, and my folks will be drivin’ by on their way to church in about 15 minutes.”

“Don’t feel like scarring them forever with the view of your naked ass?”  You sit up and start pulling up the blankets to fold them.

“Honestly?”  He shakes his head, “They’d probably cheer and then invite you over for dinner.”

Pausing your movements, you let that one sink in.  “…Oh. Well that would be just as awkward as the alternative.”

He shrugs.  “They’ve been dropping some not so subtle hints that they think I should settle down.  They’d be thrilled just to know I spent the night with you.”

You tilt your head a bit as you watch him.  “Don’t you date?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Really?  Why not?”

He shrugs again as you hand him the blankets, then he turns his back to you as he puts them in the box. “I dunno.  I guess I just hadn’t found anyone I wanted to actually spend time with.”  

“Huh.”

“What?”  There’s a challenge in his eyes when he turns back around.  “That so weird?”

“No, I get it.  You definitely shouldn’t settle.  I guess…” he’s staring at you now, waiting for you to finish, “I guess I’m just a little surprised that someone hasn’t snatched you up yet.  Where I come from, you’re quite a catch.”

“You think so?  How’s that?”

Is he baiting you? Teasing you?  Genuinely curious?  It’s impossible to tell.  “I know so. You’re smart, kind, funny, and a stupid amount of gorgeous,” you pause to level a look at him, “but I suppose you already knew I thought the last part.”

Bucky barks out a laugh but at least has the good grace to look sheepish.

“You have an absolutely beautiful horse, which wins points with pretty much every person I know. Your parents took in a couple of kids when they needed a family, and you learned a new language so you could keep communicating with your friend.  You have every opportunity to move to another city, but you stay here to be close to those you care about.  And,” it’s dumb, really, how you’re suddenly too shy to meet his eyes, “You’re really good in bed.  Like, really really good.  You’re the whole damn package.”  When you finally look up, he’s staring at you again.  “There’s a perfectly real possibility that you’re a total asshole and that you’ve been acting this whole time – I’ve only known you for a day – but I haven’t seen any cracks.  I get the definite impression that I met the real Bucky, and he is one hell of a catch.”  

“Huh.”  He hops down and turns, holding out his hand to help you down.  Do you need to take it?  No, but you love that he offers anyway.  He doesn’t let go after he helps you out, instead choosing to hold your hand as he walks you to the passenger side.  Bucky only lets go because he has to, and once the gate is secured behind the truck, he takes your hand and holds it for the entire drive back to the motel.

***

Ever the gentleman, Bucky walks you back to your motel door.  

“Do you have to go?” The words are out before you can think too long on them.

He’s shaking his head before your entire sentence is out, “No.  Not if you don’t want me to.”

You don’t even care if you sound needy or clingy.  “Please stay.”

Just like you learned last night, Bucky Barnes does not need to be told twice.

At least the drapes are closed this time.

***

A sharp rap at the door and an equally sharp call of your name interrupts your post-lovemaking bliss.  It’s your aunt.

“I don’t wanna,” you whine.

Bucky bristles, sensing your distress.  “That her?”

You nod before pulling a pillow over your head.  “I’m just going to pretend I’m still asleep.  Maybe she’ll go away.”

“Don’t worry Princess, I got you.”

You feel the bed shift and move the pillow.  “Bucky!”

He turns back to you, eyebrows raised, as another insistent knock echoes through the room.

“You’re naked!”  It comes out as a stage whisper, making you both snicker.

He flashes a shit eating grin.  “So?”

Is he really gonna…

With a dramatic huff, he stops to find his boxer briefs and quickly tugs them on.  Kind of.  They’re sitting awfully low.

First there’s the sound of the door swinging open, then Bucky’s voice, bored and borderline intimidating.  “Yeah?”

The following silence is deafening and you almost wish the room was set up so you could see your aunt’s face, but all you can see is the back half of Bucky’s sensational body leaning in the doorframe.

“Uh, hi?  I’m looking for my niece?  I thought this was her room?”

“You mean the tall, gorgeous drink of water?  About my height?  Killer smile? Was wearing, uh, let’s see, what was she wearing?  It’s been awhile and she ain’t wearin’ much of anything now.”

The blood rushes to your face, but you can’t even imagine how embarrassed Lydia is right now.  The thought is nothing short of glorious.    

“Uh,” he snaps his fingers a few times, feigning concentration, “Oh!  A black dress with the sexiest heels imaginable?  Sound about right?”

“Well, yes, but –“

“Yeah, she’s here.” His tone is still bored, but you think you can pick up on an edge of amusement.  Your aunt must be squirming by now, and it’s all you can do to not start cackling.

“I thought…well…the gift opening is in an hour.  I thought she was going to meet us for breakfast before –“

“She won’t be goin’ to the gift opening.  Or breakfast, but don’t you worry, ma’am.  I made sure she ate something.”

The not so subtle innuendo almost makes you choke on your own spit.

“You can’t – are you holding my niece hostage or something?”

He laughs darkly but yells out, “Princess, am I holding you hostage?”

Your own laugher, unable to be contained any longer, bursts out.  “Nope!” you call out, absolutely feeling as gleeful as you sound.

Lydia is practically apoplectic by now.  “But what about the gift opening?”

“She doesn’t. Want.  To go,” he growls, stooping down.  “And here, she doesn’t want your fucking ugly shoes, either.  Stop projecting your insecurities onto her – she’s perfect the way she is.”  Bucky closes the door – perhaps a little harder than strictly necessary – and you hear the sound of the lock sliding into place before he saunters back to the bed.

“Thank you for doing that, Buck.  I – holy shit, I cannot believe you answered the door like that.”  Your eyes are glued to how low his boxers are sitting – he’s showing more than just his happy trail.

“What?  Everything’s technically covered.”

“Bucky.”

“Yes, Princess?”

“I – I’m not even sure how you managed it, but you basically turned your boxers into the dick version of a pasty.”

He grins, “Like I said. Everything’s technically covered.”  Bucky moves closer, crawling into the bed until he hovers above you. “But not for long,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your neck.  “Now, the way I figure it, we got another two hours till checkout.”

“Mmmmm…” you’d rather not think of the time.  It’s necessary if you don’t want someone from housekeeping to accidentally walk in, but you don’t want this to end.

He kisses you deeply before pulling back, looking just a little hesitant.  “And then, if you want, we could continue this back at my place? If you’re not in a hurry to get home?”

He’s kept his lips to himself for a few seconds, so your head manages to clear enough to process what he just said.  “What? Really?”

“Yeah.  I mean, I get it if you have to get back.  But,” he shrugs awkwardly, his current vulnerability at stark odds with his usual confidence, “I like you.  I’d like to spend the day with you if you’re free.” He kisses your neck again and nibbles your ear.  “We can do more of this.  I like this, too.  A lot.” He pulls back to look you in the eye. “But we could also do some talkin’. Maybe you’d let me take you out to a nice dinner before you head home?”

A smile, broad and genuine, stretches across your face.  “I’d like that.  I’d really like that.”  Even if you never see Bucky again after today, you’re hungry for whatever time you can get with him.   He’s addictive and you’ve never in your life felt more satisfied and safe than you do right now.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His borderline cocky confidence returns as his hands resume roaming the landscape of your body. “Good,” he mouths against your throat, and resumes his worship of you.  “It’s gonna be a good day, Princess.  A good fuckin’ day.”

Tags:  @hellomissmabel​ @howdoesoneadult​  @nykitass​ @danimuhle​ @iwillbeinmynest​  @shifutheshihtzu​ @passiononfire​​  @learisa​​ @widowvinter​​  @kaaatniss​ ​ @ladylizzieofdarbyshire​​ @denialanderror​  @k-nighttt​​ @givemethatgold​​ @manders2487​ ​ @afangirlrambles​​ ​ ​ @polkadottedpillowcase​​ @bluebrrn​ @saysay125​​  @aikibriarrose​ @saharzek​ @mmauricee​ @imhereforbvcky​  @whenallsaidanddone​ @supernatural508​  @scarlettsoldier​  @natalie-nightcourt​  @im-beautifully-sewn​  @lovemarvelousfics​  @feistytravel​  @tbetz0341  @nearly-whitches​  @jamie-leah​  @shliic  @dessinemoiunehistoire​  @lucywinchester2000​  @solarbarnes  @a-proper-chicken​  @movingonto-betterthings​ @seekingkairos​  @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​  @part-time-patronus​  @natashasnight  @fairislesheets  @new-romanticz1989​

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x tall!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #my work #black velvet #5.6.20

[earthdeep]

ok. thoughts on dgs now I've completed both 1 and 2. spoilers abound under the cut. but tl;dr I liked it a lot.

man, the thing really did feel like a great adventure huh? the game did an excellent job at conveying that sense of grandeur, along with the humour and melodrama one expects from the series. I can really only talk about it as the one conjoined unit though. while aa1-3 were a trilogy, I would argue they largely stood as entries on their own in a way I don't think the dgs duology can. I mentioned when I finished up dgs1 that I would've been disappointed if I'd had to wait for part 2 like the original japanese audience did, and my opinion on that has only strengthened. between the morse code message, and van zieks'... development, these are two parts of a whole.

but it is a very good whole imo, with its throughline of ryunosuke gaining confidence and finding what to believe in (the truth will set u free babey!). it matches well with the recurrent theme of ur idols being... not quite as u imagined. as is aa tradition, u have the complex web of family and legacy and forging ur own path, all balanced in a way that I really like. man, it's just... so well crafted.

obvs there are a few weird hiccups here and there, logic sometimes not clicking together (at least for me), and for that I do appreciate having the story mode option. I only used it... I think twice? once in the pawnshop case where I forgot I'd only shown one receipt to gregson and not both, and once in the teleportation case where I missed examining the book on sithe's desk (in my defence it has a really small hitbox compared to the desk that surrounds it!). but it saved me some frustration, so that's always nice.

the setting was definitely very enjoyable. I personally have a soft spot for seeing portrayals of my country by those outside the anglosphere, and this absolutely hit the spot for me. the scenery was an excellent balance of the familiar old london fare and ace attorney's brand of surrealism that just. yes. excellent. weirdly high number of blonds tho. but some of the behind the scenes content did explain it was to more clearly differentiate the britons from the japanese, and ok I can understand that.

but moving onto the characters themselves, bc BOY was this a fun cast! the animation team went OFF with these guys and I love them for it. except daley vigil; those awkward poses just kinda made him look more unfinished than he already did, dunno what happened with him.

there's just... so much little stuff I would be just reiterating from my liveblogging, but now I'm done there's other stuff I can sum up.

right off the bat, favourite character gina. she has stolen my heart along with everything else on my person. I'm proud of her for learning to open up and trust others, and imo she's one of the characters with the most dramatic arc. also, top notch character designs. excellently green. yes I am biased.

honorable mentions go to susato for being 100% the coolest person in this shebang, and kazuma for his total flippancy towards the whole assassin thing. for the ten years between asogi sr's death and the student exchange deal, the mikotoba residence must have been a sight to behold. and by that I mean a warzone.

but... argh I've put it off. I don't particularly like talking about van zieks, but I can't just ignore him since you know. discourse. ugh. he's the one character in this game whose dialogue I resorted to flipping through without really paying attention. there is only so many times I can watch him deride the japanese before it's just boring. like it's not like I'm even that annoyed by the insulting thing. I love prosecutors like blackquill and nahyuta who at least bother to be funny, but van zieks is just xenophobic and that's it. if I wanted that experience I could just pick up a copy of the spectator and not worry about missing key plot details if I skim.

and no he doesn't have a good reason to hate the japanese. hating a country bc someone from there killed a loved one of urs is already flimsy enough, but when u state ur ire is being drawn by how it was covered up BY UR OWN COUNTRY'S JUDICIARY? DUDE. but yes, he got to eat shit during the last case and I felt only schadenfreude at him having to face the fact that even the aforementioned 'a japanese guy murdered my brother' didn't hold up in court. get dunked on u idiot.

boy am I glad kazuma also got the limelight for that case so I could focus on him instead. bc there was actually some depth to that situation, with the fun eternal moral conundrum of "revenge: yay or nay?". I'm already seeing debate in the fandom of his actions and personally, I think he was pretty much exactly in the grey zone. this man is chaotic neutral through and through, and taking a governmental assassination contract and then just Not Doing It is incredibly funny actually. I'm very sorry he was unable to live out his dream of having a fun homoerotic detective adventure in london with his friend while doing the hitman equivalent of tax avoidance. enjoy whatever the FUCK one calls handing over the physical embodiment of your soul to your friend for safekeeping while you go your separate ways half a world apart. that's Romantic with a capital R, that.

but anyway, yes. good game. time to trawl through the extras menu now!

#earthdeep does life #sonic lawyer adventures #dgs spoilers

[lenna-z]

Hi. Can I ask for 54 and Kayo from 100 Whump Dialogue Prompts and if you want, with a pairing you want?

Thank you very much for the request! And I'm sorry I finished and published this so late :(

I started writing this when I first got the this prompt... And soon it was over but I had scenes spinning in my head... It was already longer than I expected but I still couldn't hold back... and this went somewhere I didn't expect.

And a bit I typed wasn't saved and I had to rewrite that bit...

You can find the prompt list here.

54) "I’m fine.” “No you’re not, you’re losing a lot of blood.”

Virgil / Kayo is my favorite pair... Still, I wasn't sure to write a pairing.

I hope you will like it!

Warnings: Angst, serious injury and blood...

The end is not a main character death.

~°~

"Never..."

"We have to do this more often."

Beautiful green eyes stared at him, not understanding.

"I mean, the two of us together, rescue missions... so-"

"So, are you satisfied with my co-piloting so far?" She smiled and looked into his eyes.

He wasn't sure exactly how this developed. They were happily drinking coffee in the kitchen in the morning and then the rescue call came. When Kayo said she wanted to come, he kissed her nose and was about to say goodbye. And she wanted to go with him, not with Shadow.

The mission went well, there were no losses, and he was really happy to have Kayo with him.

"I'm satisfied because you're here." He held out his hand and she held it. He gently squeezed her hand. "I love you."

°°°°

With these words her heart almost stopped. And she smiled more. If he knew what these words did to her...

"I love you too."

But that was Virgil Tracy. He always understood her and now it was no different. He was smiling at her like he knew what she was thinking.

Their relationship was new. After the events that happened months ago... In the end fortunately everyone was fine. Like in stories with a happy ending, she finally told him that she loved him. But their stories had just begun.

"Kay?"

When she finally got back to reality he was looking at her worriedly.

"I'm fine... I was just thinking about what happen-"

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt. There are probably two people in a collapsing building about 20 miles north of your location."

"F.A.B. We are on the way., John."

"And Virgil, there was an earthquake in Indonesia. You were the closest to those two, but when you're done there-"

"F.A.B."

"Both of you be care- I'm sorry, I must go- Thunderbird 5 is ou-"

"I'm sure the rescue calls never stop..."

"Yeah..."

"Let's focus on our mission."

~°~

"This is International Rescue, is there anyone out there?"

"I'm here... Ple-s help..."

"Virgil... Something doesn't feel right to me."

Her voice was hesitant, but she wouldn't say it if she didn't suspect something. And to be honest, the feeling that something wasn't right grew stronger for Virgil as well.

"I feel the same too, but there's somebody out there who needs help. We can still ask John?"

She gratefully shook her head. "Thunderbird 5, it's Kayo." But there was no answer. "John?"

"Kay, no signal."

"What?"

"Put your hands up. Turn to me slowly."

Both were on alert, but it was foolish to act without assessing the situation.

She was slowly turning towards the man, the first thing that caught her attention was the gun pointed at her. "Listen, I don't know what you're thinking but-"

"I know. Female member of the 'famous' International Rescue. Those who encountered you said you could be a threat."

Virgil was slowly trying to get ahead of her, nodding no to him. "Look, we are not threats. We got a rescue call and come here to help. You said that, we are from the International Rescue."

He had caught the man's attention, but the gun was still pointed at her. He was getting closer to Kayo with every step. He was trying to protect her.

She couldn't let him. She spoke, trying to suppress the fear in her voice. "Is there a problem? With me or with IR? We can handle it by talking, just-"

"Should I lay down the gun? No! Where were you when my brother died?! No, no, no... You can't get out of here!"

The situation was not getting better and Virgil was literally standing between herself and the gun right now. "What happened to your brother?"

No Virgil, please don't...

"He's dead. Because of you, because of the International Rescue!"

She pushed her lover aside, the sound of the gun filled her ears.

"Kay!"

Virgil's anxious voice gave a sharp breath while she was in her ears. Then her body was shaken by a wave of pain. She had saved him, in time...

But she couldn't stop. He could do more harm if she didn't neutralize that guy. He could injure Virgil...

Ignoring the pain with great effort, he elbowed the man's ribs. Taking advantage of the man's confusion, he tried to get the gun.

But he had recovered quickly and gave a punch at Kayo. "Ahh-"

She didn't give up and was preparing for another punch. But the man pointed the gun in her face.

Then someone came in front of her, Virgil... Wanted to stop him but the pain stopped her.

Her hands went involuntarily to the wound in her stomach. Warm red blood stuck to her hands... Lots, lots of blood...

Needed to focus. Her boyfriend was still trying to stop that man. The gun was on the ground, but this time the man had a knife in his hand.

"No- Virgil..." Wanted to move, stop him... but the pain was too much. She tried to press her wound, a bitter moan. She needed to breathe.

She lost her balance and was falling...

No, no, no...

"Kay!" Strong arms held her. Familiar perfume scent... As he brought her closer to him, she opened her eyes with great effort.

Damn, when did she closed her eyes?!

But he saw the man lying on the ground, the knife and the gun were far from him. He was unconscious or... "Is ...he-"

He answered firmly, "No."

It scared her that someone killed someone for her...

He changed his posture to take better care of her wound, this made her notice his injuries. Blood flowed from the cuts on his arm. "You're h-...hurt..."

"Just scratch, you're shot, Kay." She looked at him trying to hide the pain in her face. His beautiful brown eyes filled with anxiety, staring at her bloody uniform.

She slowly pulled her shaky hand from her wound. She let out a painful breath, tears preventing her from seeing... Virgil quickly put more pressure on her wound than she did. But she still spoke. "I’m fine."

He wiped her tears with his other hand. "No you’re not, you’re losing a lot of blood." Suddenly his eyes looked around as if searching for something.

Probably anything to put pressure on the wound. He pressed it with something he took off his sash.

"Virgil... P-please don-'t leave me..." Her voice was only a small whisper, but he heard her.

"Sshh... I'll never let you go, I'll never.... Your eyes on me, Kay. ...You'll be fine, angel... Okay?"

"Okay... Lo-ve u..."

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfiction #kayo kyrano #virgil tracy #lenna writes #virgil/kayo

[inkykeiji]

How do you get motivated to write things? Like what is your process ? Do you listen to music, do mood boards or do you simply just write?

hello sweetpea!! <33 eeeee let’s get into this under the cut!!

first of all, i’m so flattered you asked me this ehehehe so thank you for that!! i answered a question about motivation and inspiration recently which i’m going to link you to right here. BUT i’m also gonna share with you an exercise my screenwriting prof shared with me, and hopefully that’ll help a little (at least with keeping the flow going n things) as well!!

i always say creativity is a muscle right? we all have it, you just have to actively exercise it to strengthen it. there’s so many ways to do that, but one good method that he taught me (that his agent taught him ehehehe) is this:

every day, write down three ideas. they don’t need to be fully formed ideas. they can be anything, a character (if you’re writing fanfiction maybe this can be an AU version of a character? or an oc/reader? or you can just skip character completely), a location, one line of dialogue, etc etc etc. you do this until you have 50-100 written down. then you pick ten, and write one paragraph for each describing the plot. THEN, you pick THREE of these and write one page summaries of their plots, much more fleshed out and all that. AND THEN, you pick one out of these and write a script (or, in our case, a fic!)

more generally/personally:

for me personally (and as i mentioned in the answer i linked you to!), as stupid as it might sound, i literally love writing so much that that IS my motivation. i’m constantly striving to improve my art and it’s all i want to do with my life etc etc etc, and i’ve got so many projects on the go that when i get stuck on one i just switch to another. it’s still frustrating of course, but i’ve been writing for so long that if i don’t write for a day i feel like trash and a failure and a bunch of other yucky things hahaha

BUT, like i also said in the answer linked above, there’s a very fine line between pushing yourself and overworking yourself, and only YOU know what that line is for yourself, because everyone’s limits differ. if you’re new to writing, or you’re new to writing every day, even just being able to write a few lines of prose or some dialogue or just an IDEA is a fantastic start!! just getting into that habit of writing everyday is really great!!

aaaaah i hope this helps a little anon <333 my WRITING PROCESS on the other hand is best described as organized chaos ehehehe but yes!! these are the things that work for me. motivation is difficult to speak about because it’s such a personal thing, but i truly hope this helps u a bit!!

#im also gonna answer another ask literally right after this with links to all of my uhhhh 'writing advice' asks i guess?????? #ehehehe so ur also welcome to look through those too idk if they'll help but they're there just in case u need em/wanna have a lookie!! #have a fantastic day anon <33 stay safe n healthy pls!! #sweet anon 🥺 #clari gets mail #clari gives advice

[writing-gifts]

we ain’t in kansas anymore ch.02 (bruno x gn!reader)

chapter 01

-----

A/N: okay im trying to do gn!reader but a lot of italian is gendered so when i'm trying to use cute little names or have someone refer to reader it causes issues. So I could use * or @ for the ‘a’ or ’o’ at the end of these terms for writing but that doesn’t work for dialogue, so i'm just gonna use ‘u’ for ex: instead of cara or caro ill say caru

anyways bruno isnt in this chapter but you get to do ur laundry heh 

Italian dialogue is “italicized like this”

---

The whirring sound of the payphone buzzes in your ear as you wait for someone to pick up. You close your eyes as the seemingly perpetual sound fills your head, hoping for the result you want.

Please please please...

A click.

"Hello?"

"H-Hello, is this ___ ___? Or do you know someone by that name?"

"Sorry, I think you have the wrong number."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," you reply, furrowing your brows and biting your lip. You hang the phone back on the receiver.

What now?

Someone knocks on the door behind you.

You lift your head from the glass you had rested it on and see a man looking at you impatiently from outside the phone booth.

You open the door to get out. "Sorry about that. I accidentally zoned out..."

What?

“Uh nevermind." Grimacing, you quickly walk away towards Fugo who’s waiting for you.

The moment you're close enough you realize that Fugo is giving you a disapproving look. “Please don’t talk to random people.”.

You can't help frowning at his tone. It wasn’t that harsh but you're tired. “I know, it's just habit but I'll try to stop...

He sighs. "No, I shouldn't have said it like that. Just try to avoid it okay."  

Even though you were a bit caught off guard by how quickly he backtracked, you nod and follow him as he walks ahead of you.

"I'm taking you to a hotel nearby that you'll be staying at until further notice."

At least that was one less thing to worry about.

After some silence Fugo speaks up again.

“...Did you find out what you wanted?”

“I found out something but it wasn't what I hoped. That guy’s powers--”

“Stand ability,” Fugo corrects.

“Yea that...I’m 100% sure he could pull people from different realities or universes or something along those lines.”

"So you getting home has become much more unlikely."

You rub at your temples. "There has to be a way though…"

Fugo doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t say anything more.

After hailing a taxi, you and Fugo finally reach the hotel. It was a small business that looked like it had been there for many years.

“Who’s paying for this?” you ask.

“Buccellati has already taken care of it.”

You felt a bit strange about that, but it was nice that he was doing all of this instead of leaving you confused in the streets.

For being in the mafia these guys aren’t too scary, especially Narancia. At the same time, you haven’t even known them for a full day however you choose to ignore the small knot anxiety within you.

Maybe Buccellati just felt he was responsible for you...

As soon as you and Fugo enter, you are immediately greeted by a pretty, older woman standing behind a counter.

Fugo and the lady converse in Italian while you look over to the side waiting. You hoped you showing up suddenly like this wasn’t too much trouble.

“___--” your attention snaps back to them, “this is Signora Rizzo”

“Stella Rizzo”, she interjects. “You can just call me Stella caru mio.”

Fugo deadpans but continues, “She’ll show you to your room. If you need anything just come to her.”

You nod. “Um, are you coming back again or…?”

“Most likely, but I don’t know when.”

Fugo moves to leave and you tell him bye which he awkwardly returns.

Stella gives you a warm smile and you feel yourself relax and return your own smile, although not as full.

“Let me take you to your room, you must be tired.”

Mrs. Stella leads you up the stairs to the 2nd floor of the hotel. The hallway’s a bit narrow and there's only 4 doors from what you can see. You wondered if there was anyone else staying here right now.

She stops in front of the door 2nd closest to the stairway. “Okay here's the room you'll be staying in--it’s the best one.” She winks at you before pulling out a key from her skirt pocket and unlocking the door for you.

“Here’s the key.” Her polished nails touch your palm as she places the key in your hand. “I think you're going to be holding on to it for a while so make sure to keep it safe kay?”

"Okay." You look at the key in your hand and slip it into your pocket for now. You needed to find a keyring or bag for yourself later.

“I'll be right back caru. You can get yourself comfortable.”

She leaves you in the room alone. It was simply furnished, with a bed, a desk, a dresser, and a small old tv. There's a door to the side which you go to open and see is a small restroom.

You walk in and look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes immediately go to your neck. It’s stained with dried blood, but there wasn’t any type of cut. Other than it feeling pretty strange, there was nothing.

Was this another stand thing?

You sigh to yourself. Your shirt was also stained, but the workers at the restaurant hadn’t even shown a hint of anything being out of the norm. You honestly wish you could do the same.

You wanted to shower first but had no new clothes. Maybe you could hand wash and let them dry overnight?

You're about to turn on the faucet to the sink when you hear a knock on the hotel room door. Expecting it to be Mrs. Stella, you leave the bathroom to let her in. She holds out some folded cloth and a basket filled with various items to you .

“I brought you some clothes caru. I thought you would want something to change into for bed--I'm sorry that they aren't very appealing looking-- and I also brought you a toothbrush, soap, towel, and some other stuff I can’t remember grabbing too.”

The appearance wasn’t an issue, you were just glad you wouldn’t have to sleep naked tonight. You laugh a little,“Thanks. By the way, do you have a place where I can wash my clothes?”

“You have to hand wash them. I can get you a tub and detergent.”

“Oh guess you had the right idea. It wasn't a lot so you could just use the sink like you originally planned.”

“Detergent is enough, thanks! Actually I'll come with you.”

“Sure and if you need anything else don't be afraid to come down to the front desk and ask. My children sometimes take up the front but they should still be able to help you.”

Were her kids anything like her?

After you're given the detergent, you head back to your room.

You empty your pockets and change out of your clothes to take a quick shower. After you're done and dried off, you put on the spare clothes you were given--a plain t-shirt and some comfortable athletic shorts.

You loosen the drawstring until you're comfortable, then grab your dirty clothes that you tossed on the bathroom floor. When the sink’s filled halfway, you pour detergent into the (too hot) water. Even after all the scrubbing, the stains were still slightly visible but not enough to notice unless someone was close.

You wring out the excess water and let the sink drain so you can rinse out your clothes. You then take them out to the small balcony attached to your room and hang your clothes on the railing.

The streetlights light up parts of the empty street and sidewalks, while the alleyways seem to only embrace the darkness making it impossible to see or tell the things that could be possibly happening within.

You frown, suddenly feeling even more exhausted and go back inside. The moment you get comfortable in bed, you’re asleep within a minute.

----

You stir from your sleep feeling as if someone has turned on the lights. Your eyes open just slightly enough and you immediately pull the covers over your head when you realise that the light from the window is shining directly on your face.

Did you have work today? You reach out to grab your phone where you usually left it on your night stand but your hands grab at air. You grumble. What time was it?

A minute passes before you poke your head out from under your covers and stare at the glass door of the balcony across the room. You stare wondering when you got a balcony. Your eyes widen and you sit up and look at your surroundings.

So that wasn’t a dream.

You frown remembering your situation, and rub the sleep from your eyes.

You honestly just want to go back to bed but you’re too awake now, so you force yourself to move towards the restroom and go through your usual morning routine. When you finish brushing your teeth, you walk on to the balcony, watching the people going about their day as you gather your clothes.

You snap out of it when you realize that a random person has noticed you staring and go back in to change with sluggish movements. You try to get your appearance in order the best you can with the items that were given to you yesterday..

While you’re in the middle of cleaning your face, Mrs. Stella shows up at your door, giving you a quite chiper good morning and asks if you want to join her for breakfast. Even though the thought was kind, you felt a little nervous going out of your room for too long, so you ask if you can eat in there instead.

“I hope I’m not taking up too much of your time.”

“It’s fine caru mio. I’m serious when I say don’t be afraid to ask for anything.”

Mrs. Stella comes back with eggs, bread with jam, fruit and a caffè latte--you mimic her words--to drink.

Seeing all that food made you realize how hungry you were. You thank her before you take it into your room to eat.

It was delicious and you honestly wanted seconds but you weren’t comfortable asking.

After you’re done, you realize that you need to take the plate downstairs but you don’t want to bring it back down dirty. Cleaning it in the restroom sink wasn’t probably the best idea either.

Other than that you don't really know what to do now. Were you going to spend the whole day here?

You rub at your neck without thinking. Something was definitely wrong with it--you could barely turn your head without discomfort.

A knock sounds on the door and you get up to open it expecting to see Mrs. Stella again.

"Fugo?"

The teen stands in front of you, wearing the same green, holey suit from yesterday. (Did he have multiple of the same outfit?)

“I came to pick you up.”

“That was quick. Uh where are we going?”

“You’ll know when we get there. We’re kinda on a tight schedule; we only have a small time window for this.”

It must not be safe to say here but you can't help thinking it was bothersome not knowing what was happening.

You run inside quickly to grab your phone and key. You see the plate on your dresser and also grab it.

”What's that in your hand,” Fugo asks as you walk down the stairs.

“...My dirty plate?”

He looks at you as if you said something stupid. “No I mean in your other hand.”

“Oh,” okay that was a little dumb, “That’s my phone.”

“So that’s what phones will evolve to...”

You hum showing him your phone more clearly, “Touch screens are pretty much the norm in like 2 decades. I can’t imagine going back to anything before it at this point!” There could be a prototype or something existing right now for all you know.

You wave goodbye to Mrs. Stella after giving her your dish which you can’t help apologizing for. She waves it off of course, but next time maybe you’d eat with her so you could wash your own dish.

You’re then led outside of the building to a car parked at the other side of the street.

You see Narancia’s head poking out of the window on the passenger side.

He perks up when he sees you. "Good morning ____!"

“Good morning”, you say back you can't help grinning. His smile was kind of contagious.

You get into the back of the car and lean towards Narancia’s seat to catch his attention. “Hey, you know where we’re going? Oh wait--nevermind.” You shake your hand next to your head as if you’re fanning your words away.

Leaning back, you pull the seat belt across your body. You wish you knew more than a few basic Italian phrases.

Narancia looks a little confused but understands that he doesn’t need to worry about it.

You play with your phone and Narancia listens to the radio as Fugo drives you all to wherever you are going.

As you slide the screen back and forth looking at the no signal symbol--your phone only had 50% charge left--you land on the page with your translation app.

...Would it still work?

You open it, pick the Italian option and type something into it.

When you press the speaker symbol, you and Narancia slightly jump when the sound of a robotic voice sounds in the car. Woops, you didn’t realize the volume was that loud.

“Uh, what was that?” Narancia asks.

“Ayy, really works!” the app said.

“What are you doing?” Fugo asks, furrowing his brows from the weird sentence but trying to keep most of his focus on the road.

“I have a translator app on my phone. It might come in handy? Probably only for simple statements though.” Typing ‘ayy’ probably wasn’t helping though.

You wonder when stuff like this actually came out. You didn’t have strong knowledge on when certain technology showed up (or became obsolete). These things just came and went into your life without you giving it much thought.

Narancia forces Fugo to explain and then he turns towards you, he eyes your phone with a very curious look on his face.

“I don't completely get it but sounds cool!”

You couldn't see Fugo’s face but he was curious as well.

#bruno aint in this chapter so im not even gonna tag the ship or him lol #this is pretty much a setup chapter #reader insert #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #oc #this is my first time making an oc in a fanfiction #Pannacotta Fugo #Narancia Ghirga #my writing #gift's writing #x reader