#It's also not as expressive but that's mostly secondary to it just not registering lol

[sysig]

Striped (Patreon)

Bonus:

Obviously I bought it! The collar is Slightly odd with a stitch down the center, like a very shallow V Neck, and it’s quite big on me lol, but it’s very workable! And so soft, like you wouldn’t believe. Very comfy!

Also, pretty sure I’ve talked about this before, but here’s a refresher: I always pick up any Lalaloopsy from any second-hand shop I find them in, being out of production and so inexpensive and so cute - I’m a casual collector ♥ I never expect to see them, so I’m always so excited when they’re there! I actually managed to get three this time, not only with their original clothes, but also their shoes! (Why are they always missing their shoes?) And you’ll never guess which ones, what they were wearing:

It’s Rain E. and Storm E., with their black and white striped shirts!

We match <3 <3

[shadows-taller]

bucky, 41, getting together story💘

this took way too long and I have no excuse. also it’s super long and I got carried away. whoops. usually I don’t like using the whole y/n thing but I feel it was unavoidable here. anyway. I hope you enjoy!

“I know it’s 2am but can we meet up”

The absolute best thing about getting a text from a wrong number is the sheer fun you can have fucking with the person who texted you. For example, Wanda got a wrong number one time detailing how her child was a disruption to this woman’s daughter and how she was no longer invited to this family’s barbecue. For a solid four days she pretended to be this kid’s mother, and it only ended when the soccer mom threatened to call the cops. To date, that’s your best wrong number story, and to be fair, it isn’t even yours. 

You haven’t had much luck as far as messing with strangers, your first and only attempt being the incident at the Apple Store in Times Square when you were drunk. Needless to say, you haven’t gone back to the area in a long time.

Ever since moving to New York, you’ve learned that the people are friendly when you get to know them and treat them like people rather than tourist attractions. You might even call yourself one, on occasion - god knows your whole family back home thinks you’re some sort of socialite now that you’re in the big city.

Most of the time, you’re just lucky if you go out to lunch with Wanda or Val once a week. That and the debate club you frequent once a month, held at a bookstore a few blocks down from your street. The only interaction you have with men is in class and the guy who works at the bookstore on weekends. He’s seen you at your worst, from the morning to get a book for class and in the evening when you just finished a part of a series and need to find out what happens next. And dressed in pajamas in both situations. No way will you strike up conversation with him anytime soon, that’s way too embarrassing.

All this to say, school doesn’t make for much wiggle room in your schedule. And your social skills have become a bit lacking thanks to this fact

Luckily, today, a Saturday, has left you enough time not only to get ahead on your studies, but also to get lunch with Wanda, go to the library and the small museum in your neighborhood (because you’ve always wanted to but, again, time is a cruel mistress), and be back home with enough daylight left to make a decent meal for yourself.

Of course, some fucker has to text you in the middle of the night with some bullshit like;

Unknown: i know its 2am but can we meet up

You hear the buzz on your nightstand, wake up enough to reach over and turn your phone on, and type out a response as well as your still mostly-asleep brain can.

You: who’s this?

Prepared to fall back asleep, your head has barely hit the pillow when your phone buzzes again. And then a second time, to add insult to injury.

Unknown: james, from ur anthro class?

Unknown: ur my partner for the project

Groaning, you sit up and prop a pillow behind you. Reaching for your glasses, you prepare to let the guy down, too tired to mess with him. But just as you’re typing out a sorry, wrong #, he messages you for a third time in a row.

Unknown: u know, with Banner? The man who cant answer questions for shit

Now that makes you wake up a bit. Not only because Dr. Bruce Banner is, in your opinion, one of the best anthropology professors at your college, but because he’s helped you pursue your degree in that exact subject area. Dr. Banner’s been a huge impact on your academic success, and this guy is just flat-out wrong about him.

You: first of all, why the fuck are you messaging me (or anyone) at 2am

You: second, wrong number. but banner’s a genius and you’re wrong.

Now you’re fully awake and ready for a debate. It’s why you joined a debate club - sometimes, the need to argue should be directed in more fulfilling avenues. But it’s 2 AM, for chrissakes.

Unknown: i didnt say he wasnt a genius. he just cant answer questions.

You sigh.

You: what sort of questions could you possibly have that he couldn’t answer

Unknown: why do you care anyway

You: it’s kind of my major, smartass

Unknown: shit alright its about this project on like African masks

You: there’s lots of those can you narrow it down

Unknown: i dont know how to! thats my problem

You: did he give you parameters for the assignment?

At this point, you decide to add this guy as a contact, even if out of pity for his apparent lack of skill in the field of anthropology. Maybe this could become a thing, you help him in anthro, he helps you in… whatever he studies? That’s a good question, actually.

Wrong # James: yeah he told us to write on african masks

Wrong # James: like write abt them not like ON on them

You: ok. Well what did you talk about in class?

Wrong # James: masks? from different regions

You: so like what masks from different regions looked like?

Wrong # James: ya

You: did you have a favorite?

Wrong # James: not really?

You: well maybe you should do some research on that and find a region that has masks/symbols that interest you

You: and also get your partner’s number lmao

Wrong # James: ur more helpful than he was tho

You: tough shit u still need to talk to him

You: what major are you anyway

Wrong # James: biomechanical engineering

Wrong # James: so like the opposite of anthro

You: true

Wrong # James: sorry abt waking you up btw

You: it’s no big deal lol

Except that it kind of was. You look at the clock, and it reads nearly 2:30.

Wrong # James: still its kinda late

Wrong # James: I feel bad now

Wrong # James: (…)

Wrong # James: do u wanna meet up sometime? when its not 2am? I need so much anthro help

The smile on your face is wide, because you were just about to suggest the same thing. You take a second to think about your response, but another message comes through before you can send something.

Wrong # James: nvm thats weird pretend i didnt suggest it

You: no! I was actually going to ask you the same thing. god knows I could use some calc help

Wrong # James: calc is so much easier than anthro shut up

You: math is the work of the devil

You: so you free tomorrow?

Wrong # James: ya is 4 good?

You: sure! Campus library?

Wrong # James: yea

You: wait I don’t know what you look like

Wrong # James: tall, brown hair?

You: that’s half the school population

Wrong # James: I’ll be in a stark industries shirt with a leather jacket and a dark green backpack, in the little area behind the sci-fi stuff

You: good that actually does narrow it down

Wrong # James: Wait I don’t know ur name wtf

You: it’s y/n

Wrong # James: see u tomorrow then, y/n

–

It’s 3:00 and you have an hour ‘til you meet up with James, so you’ve decided to stop by the little grocery store near your place to get some snacks. You don’t know what he’ll like, so you get some water and a few different types of candy, as well as some fresh fruit. On your way to the library, you stop by the bookstore to get another copy of one of your favorite books for anthropology - Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond. You figure James might appreciate a more compelling, interesting read in the midst of textbooks and scholarly articles.

You come to the register and put the book on the counter, eyes cast down like usual. The guy at the counter, somehow always working when you’re there, takes it and rings you up. As you hand him your member card, you glance up to see oddly familiar white lettering. And a leather jacket. And a secondary glance tells you that his name-tag reads James (Bucky). You feel yourself pale as you look up at his face.

“Holy shit.”

He just looks at you, confused.

“Is there something wrong?”

For the first time since your first visit to the store, you look him straight in his pretty blue eyes. You get a sudden burst of confidence, and your shocked expression melts into a nonchalant shrug, smirk dancing at the edge of your lips.

“No, just this random asshole texted me at 2am asking to meet up.”

//send me a prompt