#also the guy from princess bride follows him too

[thecursedquoteshop]

(via "Merry Christmas..." Sticker for Sale by Cursed-Quotes)

Merry Christmas!! (also Jane Lynch follows my brother on Instagram. Like actually truly legitimately... just wanted to share lol)

[bisaster-energy]

im not even done my current kuwameshi fic and im already getting ideas about new ones...

[medievalandfantasymelee]

COME ONE, COME ALL to the MOSTE ILLUSTRIOUS TOURNAMENT of the FINEST, the MOSTE PUISSANT and HOTTEST MEN MEDIEVAL MEDIA HAS TO ITS CREDIT.

Be it known that we shall accept submissions of the hottest men OF THE PEOPLES’ CHOOSING from any live-action* TV or movie media property set between the years AD 500 – 1550 (Tudors WELCOME!!), and any fantasy properties which emulate said period!

KNOW ALSO that we, by the grace of this fine hellsite and with the counsel of the moste honorable and illustrious @hotvintagepoll (many thanks), have made

THESE GUIDELINES here given:

ANY HOT GUY who appears in any movie or TV show released in ANY YEAR, from ANY COUNTRY, shall be deemed eligible for entry. Below are listed examples of eligible properties. If YE BE NOT CERTAIN whether your hot guy is eligible, submit him anyway!

Examples of Eligible Properties: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-03), Game of Thrones (2011-19) House of the Dragon (2022), Wolf Hall (2015-2024), The Tudors (2007-2010), Ladyhawke (1985), The Princess Bride (1987), The White Queen (2013), Rise of Empires: Ottoman (2020-2022), Vikings (2013-2020), The Last Kingdom (2015-2022), Diriliş: Ertuğrul (2014), A Knight’s Tale (2001), BBC’s Robin Hood (2006-3009), The Last Duel (2021), The Story of Minglan (2018), The Borgias (2013), Robin Hood (1939), Outlaw King (2018), Pilgrimage (2017), Legend (1985), Braveheart (1995), The Green Knight (2021), Excalibur (1981), Beowulf & Grendel (2005), The Lion in Winter (1968), Robin Hood: Men in Tights (1993), The Black Adder (Blackadder Series 1, 1982), Rashomon (1950)

Remember: This is just a list of examples—WOW ME!

These following titles are examples of properties that do not fall within or emulate the stated time period and therefore DO NOT QUALIFY: The Three Musketeers (Any Version), Pirates of the Caribbean (2004), Barbarians (2020), Gladiator (2000), Ben Hur (1959), Shogun (2024), Elizabeth (1999), 300 (2006), Troy (2004), Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001), Disney's Robin Hood (1973)**, Yojimbo (1961), Shakespeare in Love (1998), King Arthur (2004)***

For the purposes of this tournament, "Man" and "Guy" are defined as any bi-pedal humanoid male character played by a man. As such, characters belonging to non-human races such as Hobbits, Orcs, Elves, Demons, Fauns, Werewolves etc. ARE admissible, and, indeed, encouraged.

If you have propaganda you forgot to include in your submission, just hold onto it and send it in an ask after the Tournament begins.

You may submit as many hot men as you like but please submit only ONE ENTRANT per submission.

Do not hesitate to submit ANY hot guy you think may qualify, no matter how popular he is. There is no such thing as a shoo-in with these tournaments. If you think "Someone MUST have submitted him already!" Everyone else is probably thinking that too and then he may well NEVER get submitted and we don't want that.

Do not worry about how many submissions your hot guy might have had already--I need to get a sense of who the strongest contenders are in order to fairly seed the draws, and the best way to do that is volume of submissions.

We are voting on the hotness of the characters. While the actors who portray them are of course a major factor in this, we are not voting on the actors themselves, therefore propaganda pertaining to the actors real lives (aside from anecdotes relating to their portrayal of the character) is not admissible.

By that same token, in the case of historical figures (e.g. Henry VIII) we are judging hotness based on the fictionalized portrayals of them in these properties, not on historical fact.

Regarding immortal/time-travelling/dimension-hopping/extremely long-lived characters, regardless of when the character was born, the main action**** of the story must take place within the Medieval Period (see dates listed at the top of this post) or Medieval-esque fantasy fantasy realm in order for them to be eligible for submission. As such, characters like the Pevensie brothers (The Chronicles of Narnia) and Ash Williams (Army of Darkness) are admissible, but Asgardians (the MCU Thor films) are not.

I, as the Administrator and Master of Revels of this tournament, am exercising discretion in the admittance of characters from works by Shakespeare, since many of them have no set date.

Re: characters adapted from books/written works - Book quotes by/ about your character are not admissible as Propaganda for their tv/ movie counterparts unless said quotes were also written into the show/movie.

Book illustrations and fanart are not admissible Propaganda

SUBMISSIONS SHALL REMAIN OPEN UNTIL MIDNIGHT, JULY 1st

The Tourney shall begin at a date yet to be determined with the Melee (Qualifying Rounds), wherein the entrants with the fewest submissions and least propaganda will duke it out in a free for all brawl to determine who will enter the Lists.

SUBMIT YOUR ENTRANTS HERE TODAY!!!

-- Master of Revels

*The "live-action" qualification does have a caveat: exception may be made for those CGI films which were all the rage in the mid-00's that used the motion-capture and likeness of the actors; for example characters from, Robert Zemeckis's Beowulf (2007) are admissible.

** this one doesn't qualify, not because it isn't the right time period, but because it falls solidly under the "Animated" category.

***Yes, sadly we are deprived of the beautiful countenances of Clive Owen, Mads Mikkelsen, Ioan Gruffudd et al because the producers of this film in their infinite wisdom and in an attempt to seem "more historically accurate" chose to set it during the Roman withdrawal from Britain, which occurred in the 5th Century (About a CENTURY earlier than Authurian tradition) and is generally agreed to have ended by AD 410. It therefore does not fall under the Medieval umbrella and is not eligible for submission.

**** "Main Action" here defined as "More than half an hour of a movie and more than two episodes of a series"

[batneko]

last night as I was trying to fall asleep my brain gave me a story about Bowser as an imprisoned dragongod who is worshiped but enslaved, kept in a cave where he can't do anything but watch the outside world. He can tell the worshipers what to do (within reason) because his powers are so useful to them that they know if he ever gets angry or miserable enough to off himself they'll all be screwed. They have a LOT of enemies, who all assume that the god is their willing ally, and would be more than happy to crush them the moment they have the chance.

the closest thing to affection Bowser ever had was the woman who decided to bear his child. He genuinely believed she wanted to be the bride of a god, but the moment she was sure she was pregnant she left without even looking back.

years later, when he's told himself he doesn't care anymore (he obviously very much still cares), he sees a beautiful sweet princess and decides he wants her. He orders his "minions" to capture her and present her to him as a... permanent guest. He doesn't think she'll like being a prisoner, of course. HE sure doesn't. But he's stuck down here with no hope of escape, ever, and he can at least make her stay very comfortable. She's a princess, she must be used to being in a gilded cage.

though he knows that the princess has protectors, and they've made things difficult for his followers over the last couple years, he never gives them much thought. Bowser never imagines that they'd be so determined to protect the princess from him that one of them would disguise himself as the princess and willingly get "sacrificed" to the inescapable dragon cave.

(this was briefly brought up as a potential plan by the brothers, but discarded immediately because they don't want anybody to have to be stuck with a dragon forever, especially not each other. But then they got separated and Luigi was the only one left to protect Peach and they were captured and there was no time to spare and... it was the only thing he could think of.)

Bowser is furious, of course, but what he really wanted was companionship. If this random guy is who he's got, it's who he's got. And the random guy is weirdly optimistic about this whole thing, although he's scared of Bowser he never once stops believing that his brother will be coming to save him. No matter how much Bowser explains that not even a god can get out of this hole, Luigi insists that it's only a matter of time. His brother will come for him.

(he does, of course, freeing both of them.)

And that was as far as I got! I probably won't ever write it because it's too dramatic and also absolves Bowser of most responsibility for the evil done in his name. I like Bowser as a villain who really isn't justified in what he does. That's where the spice is! 🌶

But it's fun to think about Luigi being his usual nice guy self around someone who isn't used to being treated like a person, on multiple levels.

[miryum]

Foundling Villa- Chapter 2

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of war

ao3 link  next chapter>>

Charles didn’t want to leave the palace. Leaving the palace meant seeing Princess Y/n. Leaving the palace meant getting married. Leaving the palace meant throwing away his freedom. 

“Charles, let’s go,” Lorenzo beckoned his younger brother. “Don’t throw a tantrum like a child.”

“I thought I would be able to choose,” Charles insisted for the umpteenth time. 

Queen Pascale sighed. “We had always known it was a possibility. Williams is a fine kingdom and Princess Y/n is a wonderful girl.” 

“We don’t need Williams,” Charles protested. “And you’ve never met Princess Y/n.” 

“They have excellent resources,” Lorenzo explained. “It will be a much needed boost to the economy. With Redull suspiciously on our borders it would be beneficial to remain strong. Also, since when do you care about marriage? Other than a few flings here and there, you’ve shown no interest to anyone in court. What could you possibly be throwing away?” 

Charles grumbled, refusing to let Lorenzo’s excellent argument get to him. “It’s not about if I have a girl, it’s about my freedom.” 

Arthur snickered. “You think you won’t have any freedom? Whenever you want you can get out of here. Go on a trip to Aston or Alpine. Y/n can’t stop you.” 

“Y/n?” Charles scoffed at the informalities. “Are you best friends?!” 

“She’s my future sister-in-law,” Arthur pointed out. “I’m not going to call a family member by their title.” 

“She’s hardly family,” Charles frowned. He wanted to cross his arms like a child. 

Pascale hit him on the arm. “Charles Marc! Do not talk that way about your future bride!”

“You’re wrong.” Charles continued to rant, “everyone talks about how when you get married, you’re tied down. You have to run everything by your spouse. You can’t just wake up and decide to spend all day shooting ducks. You need to tell her about it and then she may refuse you to do it.” 

“Charles, I’m sure she’s feeling the same way.” Pascale tried to talk some sense into her middle child. “She probably has hobbies she enjoys and is worried you’ll forbid her from continuing them. If you allow her to continue her endeavours, she’ll probably let you do yours. I had the same anxiety when I married your father,” she placed a loving hand on King Hervé’s arm. “But then I realised that he was a loving and kind man. I got very lucky, and if you do not make Princess Y/n feel the same way, I swear, Charles, I will skin you.” Charles flinched backwards and Arthur laughed loudly.

“Have you done it yet?” Lorenzo asked abruptly. 

“Lorenzo!” Queen Pascale cried, “What is with you boys today?!” 

“We’ll talk later,” Lorenzo made sure Charles agreed. “You too,” he said to Arthur. “Both of you need to know what you’re doing.” 

Charles almost gagged. Arthur grimaced. 

“Your Majesties,” a knight announced. “Princess Y/n of Williams has entered the palace gates.”

“Oh my!” Queen Pascale exclaimed, “Everyone outside! Let’s go! Aren’t you excited? Look your best.” 

“Hey, Charles,” Arthur took him by the arm and held him back as the rest of the Leclercs walked outside. “Don’t screw this up.” 

“Inspiring words,” Charles rolled his eyes. 

“I mean it,” Arthur grabbed his brother’s arm. “Papa was conversing with Jules the other day. I overheard them talking about the prospect of war.” 

“War?” Charles stared at his brother. “Arthur, are you sure your mind isn’t playing tricks on you?” 

Before Arthur could answer, the knight stepped back inside. “Your Highnesses, Queen Pascale is demanding your presence.” Charles shot Arthur a glance, but walked out the door. Arthur shook his head and followed. 

The two younger Leclerc brothers barely made it to their places before your carriage pulled up. However, you didn’t get out. Blurry shapes in the carriage danced around and Arthur whispered to Charles, “looks like she’s nervous too.”

A footman soon jumped down and sprung open the door. You grasped the footman’s hand and stepped down, your gown swishing around your ankles as you steadied yourself. Charles blinked once, an eyebrow quickly lifting before steadying his expression. His mother was right; you were beautiful. That hardly meant anything, though. Many girls in the court were attractive but were vain and only looked at him and his brothers as pocketbooks. When he saw you, however, all past concerns went out the window. You looked much more demure than he thought; much more fearful than he wanted you to be. You didn’t seem like the type of person to take control of his life. In fact, Charles felt an odd need to protect you. Your anxiousness worried him and he didn’t want you to feel scared in your new home. 

Awkwardly, you slowly faced the royal family. Charles made quick eye contact with you. His muscles contracted, keeping him in the rightful place with shoulders back, chin tilted slightly upward, hands clasped firmly before him, and feet shoulder-width apart. 

“God, be a statue, why don’t you?” Arthur muttered. 

You, on the other hand, bowed your head in silent greeting, fingers fiddling with your dress. One of your maids said something into your ear and you nodded, glancing back at her, eyelashes brushing your cheeks. You murmured something back and the footman readily moved to the back of the carriage and began unloading. Charles noticed how you peeked up at the sky, seeming surprised at the sun high in the clouds. He remembered Williams had a much colder climate than Enza did and wondered if you were regretting your choice at a long-sleeve dress. Taking a deep breath, you paced forward to stand before the King and Queen. 

“Your Majesties of Enza,” you curtsied, keeping your voice low and clam. “Thank you for housing me. My mother and father, King and Queen of Williams, send their regards and best wishes. It’s an honour to be here.” 

“Princess Y/n,” King Hervé said. “It’s a pleasure to have you join us in Enza. We welcome you and any of your guests with a warm heart. We hope you’ll be happy and comfortable here.” 

“Thank you,” you gestured to your maids. “This is Elena and Sara, my handmaidens. I hope they can accompany me during my stay.” 

“Of course,” Queen Pascale spoke up. “Any friend of yours is a friend of ours. Will you be joining us for dinner?” 

You tried to conceal a grimace. “Unfortunately, I’m feeling awfully tired after my trip. I’m sorry to disappoint, but the ride was incredibly long. I hope you don’t mind if I lay down?” 

Queen Pascale looked worried. “Whatever you need, dear. We can send up some food, if you like?” 

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” 

“In the morning, Prince Charles could introduce you to the palace and show you around.” It didn’t sound like a request, though you knew Queen Pascale was just trying to instigate a relationship between you and Prince Charles. 

“I would love to accompany him.” Admittedly, you wanted to get to know Prince Charles. If you were to marry him, you thought you should at least know the bare minimum. It would look bad if you didn’t know your husband’s favourite food.

King Hervé said, “Prince Charles can show you to your room if you would like to get settled in.” 

“That would be excellent, thank you.” 

Prince Charles offered his arm to you. The rest of the Leclercs sneaked inside, leaving the two of you alone. Elena and Sara dropped back, offering some space. 

Charles noticed your sky blue dress as the colours of Williams. He felt bad that your wedding dress was to be light red. Although, his pocket square and tie were to be blue, the same colour of your dress you now wore. It was supposed to be symbolic of the joining of unions and the intertwining of kingdoms. However, it was clear that you weren’t ready to let go of your kingdom. 

You slowly accepted his arm. Charles felt a pain in his chest. He didn’t want you to be frightened of him, even though he was against the marriage as well.  

If you got nothing else, he was satisfied with being friends with you. 

“I know you may not ever love me,” he started talking, leading you inside and up a flight of stairs. “And I’m fine with that. This doesn’t need to be a romantic marriage. However, I would like to be on good terms with you. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You were suspicious. “I would thank you for that,” you said cautiously. 

“I understand you’ll need some time to trust me.” Prince Charles seemed thoughtful, a quality you were grateful for. He didn’t seem like a controlling man. Maybe if you both agreed to stay out of the others’ way, this marriage wouldn’t turn out as bad as you thought. 

“I know neither of us want this,” you admitted. “But you’re right; we could be cordial to one another.”

“I would be accepting of that,” Prince Charles nodded. 

Prince Charles stopped in front of a large door.”This is you. If you want, your maids could be placed in a room close to you.”

“I would like that, thank you.”

“I’m supposed to tell you that a week from now, we’ll finalise plans for the wedding. The actual marriage is to take place in a month. Your parents are aware, but if you would like to invite anyone else, I would suggest writing to them now.” Charles monologued the script he was expected to tell you.

“Understandable,” you said. “I hope you sleep well tonight.”

It was simply formalities, but Charles replied kindly, “Thank you. You as well.”

You gave the prince a half-smile as you stepped into your new room. Your maids scurried in after you. Charles decided he liked your smile. He wanted to see it more often, as good friends would.

Being forced to marry you wasn’t the worst that could happen. After all, at least you didn’t hate him.

[yuurei20]

Ace Info Compilation part 13: Phantom Bride(pt1)

The Phantom Bride event begins with Ace laughing at the idea of Idia being a “perfect prince,” only to be harassed by Crowley about the impending public relations fallout until he agrees to help.

Ace provides a sample of the proposal he intends to make to a ghost guard who says, “I could sense how much you want to make your partner happy. What a genuine display.”

Riddle also compliments Ace on his proposal, saying, “That was absolutely from the heart."

The guard tells Riddle he is too short to be allowed to see Eliza and Ace tries to talk him down (“He doesn’t appreciate what a swell guy you are” Talk about a rube, am I right? Ha ha ha…”) to no avail.

In a line that was rewritten in the EN adaptation Riddle claims that he still has a whole year to grow and Ace points out, “Sounds like you looked up that factoid yourself.”

Ace’s group loses its members one by one to Eliza’s guard ghosts until Ace, alone, reaches the wedding venue and saves Idia, just in time.

Ace explains to Eliza that “No partner’s gonna meet your every ideal! That’s just common sense,” and goes after her grandparents for enabling her misunderstanding.

In reference to Riddle’s overblot Ace explains, “You might feel sorry for her, but treating the princess with kid gloves isn’t doing her any favors! Looks to me like you’re a buncha enablers who’d rather take the easy way out than have a tough conversation!”

Trey comments, “Feels like being called out all over again.”

When Eliza asks what she should do Ace asks, “How about someone you can laugh and cry with? Someone who’ll stick with you through all the hard times?”

He then follows up with her grandparents again, asking how they could have never taught her something so basic after spending 500 years with her and “you haven’t done anything that actually benefits her!”

Idia marvels at Ace’s ability to give the monologue with a straight face and Riddle appears and says, “Ace is right.”

Just as Ace is about to send Eliza back to the afterlife she decides she is in love with the guard who fights the students back to protect her, leaving Ace to wonder at how the situation managed to shuffle around to the point that they have become the bad guys.

[its-tortle]

Hi Luisa! Hope you’re doing well!! ❤️ From the prompt list, how about 23? 🥰

hi galks!! thank you for this <3 sorry it took so long

23. "Just pretend to be my date"

In retrospect, Bucky has no idea why he thought it would even be a good idea to come to this thing. He doesn’t know the groom that well, he doesn't know the bride at all, and his positive response to the RSVP was really mostly just because he had a pathetic lack of plans and was a glass or three of wine in. Also, he had foolishly hoped that the guy he had gone on two semi-pleasant dates with would turn into a boyfriend by the time he had to attend yet another one of these stupid weddings. But Darrian or Dorian or Darryl had turned out to be a tool, mostly, and they hadn’t even made it to their fourth date, so now Bucky is an itchy suit again, nursing his fourth glass of champagne and watching the happy couple -- couples, really -- spin around the dancefloor in their own little world of blissful oblivion. Bitches. 

He suppresses a sneer -- because he should be happy for them, really he should! -- and knocks back the rest of his glass. 

He hates himself a little bit, maybe, because he’s being the grumpy asshole in the corner he vowed to never be, but he’s just really sick of tinder matches that result in having to answer to how many siblings he has and what his favorite movie is only to end up at every wedding alone.

It’s not his fault his ex was an asshole and he’s gotten kind of bad at letting people in. 

And he’s fine most of the time, he really is, except suddenly it’s getting hard to convince himself of that because Brock is here, somehow, and he looks way too put together in his crisp suit and he’s laughing at something with a blonde hanging off of his arm and Bucky’s skin is crawling. He wants to run. He wants to grab another flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray just to throw it in Brock’s face. He wants to scream.

Mostly, he finds he just wants to show Brock that he’s better off without him, even if he still has to remind himself of it sometimes. He wants to seem cool, and handsome, and put together and over it in a way he can’t bring himself to totally be. He hears what sounds like an echo of a pop princess in his head sing “nobody actually happy and healthy has ever felt so desperate to prove it” at that thought, and maybe Maisie is right, but dammit, he just wants Brock to see that it’s his loss. 

Bucky is a catch. Brock is just some dude.

Except Bucky is the one sitting sourly in the corner while Brock is charming the pants off of the audience he’s amassed.

Bucky refuses to stand for it.

“If looks could kill,” a voice muses suddenly from beside him, and Bucky almost jumps with the surprise of it. 

His gaze follows the voice to a figure sitting at the table to his left -- and what a figure it is. The man is around Bucky’s age, with golden hair and blue, blue eyes, and shoulder’s the size of a fridge. Somehow, miraculously, he almost looks graceful despite it. With the bump in his nose and little waist Bucky can see under his tapered suit, he looks like a Greco-Roman statue. 

Bucky stares.

The man raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Bucky blurts. “I’m not- I don’t usually stare like that. I’m not a serial killer.”

The blond chuckles, but it doesn’t feel mean. “You sure?”

“I mean-” Bucky feels himself sink deeper into his awkwardness, even as he tries to backpedal. “I’d kill him maybe, but he’s an outlier.”

The stranger laughs again, and Bucky feels a little too proud of himself for it.

He steps away from the column he’s leaning on to take a seat beside the stranger at the table and hopes he isn’t being presumptuous. A pretty smile lets him know he doesn't mind.

“So what’s his crime?” the stranger prompts then. “Is he a high school bully? A shitty coworker? An ex?

“The latter,” Bucky admits. “And obviously it looks like he’s here only to rub into my face that he’s thriving.”

“I don’t know,” the stranger muses. “It kind of looks like he’s balding a little bit.”

Bucky lets out a startled laugh and decides he likes him right there and then. “Fucker deserves it.”

“Didn’t end well?” the stranger guesses.

“Absolutely not,” Bucky scoffs wryly, finally feeling somewhat like he’s regained his footing. “He kind of- oh shit, he’s coming over.”

And like that, his footing is gone. Sure enough, Brock seems to have spotted them across the dance floor and is cutting his way through the crowds with that pretty blonde still hanging off of his arm.

Bucky turns to the stranger in a panic. “Fuck. Can you- Can I ask a favor?”

The stranger frowns. “Sure.”

“Just pretend to be my date,” Bucky blurts. “For like, a minute until he goes away.”

Bucky expects the stranger to protest, to scoff and call him ridiculous to even suggest it, but instead he just gives Bucky a subtle nod and adjusts his seating so his (glorious) thigh and (beautiful devastating) shoulder is bumping into Bucky’s. Bucky presses back in thanks.

“James, darling,” Brock jeers when he approaches them. “How nice to see you made it.”

Brock might have been ruinously impossible to read, but even Bucky can tell he doesn't mean that. If he does, it’s just to rub his composed-ness into Bucky’s face. That’s not a word. Whatever.

“You too,” Bucky manages to grit back. “You look good.”

“You too,” Brock replies, but the moment of hesitation before it speaks volumes. Bucky wants to scratch his eyes out. 

“Still working at the shop, then?” Brock asks. Bucky just about jumps out of his chair.

“Yeah,” Bucky manages. His smile is so fake it's hurting his face.

“But he’s actually just started a new project!” the stranger cuts in all of a sudden. “Haven’t you, babe?”

He’s perfect, beautiful, a knight in shining armor. Bucky could kiss him.

Instead, he just smiles and looks back to Brock. “Oh, yes!” he confirms, like he only just remembered because fun new projects happen to him all the time. “I’m restoring this gorgeous 60s Corvette. It’s Tony Starks, actually.”

Brock looks almost impressed, and Bucky wants to leap with joy. He isn’t even lying.

“That’s so cool!” the blonde on Brock’s arm says.

“Congrats,” Brock comments, though it falls a little flat. “Who’s this?” he asks after a moment, gesturing to the Adonis of a stranger.

“Oh, right,” Bucky asks, like this isn’t an orchestrated part of the interaction. “This is my boyfriend. Darling, this is Brock. He’s an old friend.”

Brock’s face twitches like Bucky hoped it would. The ‘old friend’ bit always works like a charm -- Bucky’s been on the other end of it.

“Steve,” his fake boyfriend, Steve, introduces himself. “Pleasure.” He holds out his hand to shake because apparently Bucky looped a gentleman into his con.

A gentleman with a lame white boy name that Bucky somehow finds endearing when it melds itself to pretty blue eyes and a crooked nose.

Brock shakes the hand with a poorly disguised grimace.

“Right well,” he says after another short moment of awkward silence. “This is Emily.”

Emily gives them a dorky little wave that’s almost cute. Bucky notes that she wasn’t allowed to introduce herself and reminds himself not to hate her. She’s just Brock’s next victim anyhow. 

She doesn’t even get the girlfriend label. Classic.

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky says as earnestly as he can.

Another silence stretches between them. The band has just started playing a Smiths song at a wedding, for some reason.

“Right, well,” Bucky’s knight in shining armor says before it can stretch too wide. “It was so nice to meet you both and I hate to interrupt, but I’d love to ask my best guy for a dance?”

He looks over at Bucky with a questioning glance, and Bucky takes the bait gladly. “Yes! Of course. Please excuse us, this is our song.”

If either Brock or Emily are perturbed by their song being Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by the Smiths, they don’t show it. Bucky internally pumps his fist.

Steve loops his arm through Bucky’s as he leads them to the dance floor, and Bucky curses himself for noticing how solid and warm his arm is. He smells like a warm July evening.

When they reach the floor, Steve loops the same arm around Bucky’s waist and loosely holds his hand in the other. Bucky glances at Brock and Emily over his shoulder and makes a short moment of eye contact with Brock until Steve spins him around and Brock is well out of sight.

“Sorry,” Steve says suddenly, quietly. “I just thought we might want out of that situation.”

Bucky waves him off. “No, thank you. For that and for- the whole thing.”

“Sure,” he responds easily. “He seems like an asshole.”

Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “He is.”

His beautiful knight-in-shining-armor Adonis stranger is even more beautiful under the twinkling lights of the dance floor, if that’s even possible. His hair falls into his face like a golden curtain. His eyes look like the stars.

“But really,” Bucky says. “You were amazing. I owe you one.”

Steve’s starry eyes crinkle at the corners. “No need. It was fun, honestly.”

Bucky tries to find a way to say that he wants to owe Steve one, wants the excuse to see Steve again, when he beats him to it.

“But, um,” he utters, looking suddenly a bit nervous. Bucky admires that he’s still smiling, that he looks unapologetic about his nervousness. He’s brave, Bucky realizes, and it makes him a little warm. 

“If you wanted to owe me one,” Steve ventures, “you could.”

Bucky can’t help the incredulous little laugh that escapes him. Steve isn’t real. He can’t be.

“Dinner?” he asks.

Steve nods.

When Bucky enters his number in Steve’s phone a moment later, he enters his name as Bucky :) before he can think better of it.

Steve frowns when he takes it back. “I thought your name was James,” he questions.

“It is,” Bucky says quickly. “Technically. But Bucky’s a childhood nickname and I just- I like it better.”

Brock always laughed at it, said it was juvenile and Bucky couldn’t expect anyone to take him seriously with it. But Steve just smiles. 

“Me too,” he says.

Bucky doesn’t mind the next wedding he attends so much. It’s hard to when Steve is holding his hand and clumsily spinning him around a dance floor and making him choke on his drink with laughter. 

And when Brock shows up dateless, Bucky’s too happy to even feel vindictive about it. Mostly.

[pruneunfair]

" My feelings on" part 3, today's episode: For my derelict favorite and how it fails at being a feminist empowerment story.

So this OI had an interesting title and a ML that didn't have the same cold Duke of the north look, some characters named after Greek gods, and it sounded relatable at first since I'm sure all of us had a fictional crush we obsessed over.

Dear God how this one flopped. Put some respect on the true Hestia, the actual goddess of the hearth in Greek mythology mostly known for staying out of conflict as one of the kindest goddesses because this version of Hestia is the absolute opposite.

The plot is basically Hestia is a rich woman possessed by another transmigrated soul who was a big fan of the story she read in her first life, she is obsessed with the 2nd male lead Caelus and fangirls over him whenever she can but Cael is going through severe depression after the og fl Diana rejected him even after he gave her so much including murdering 2 people for her, he's so distraught by this that he kills himself and Hestia places the blame on Diana and her fiance Helios for not doing enough and makes it her goal to ruin them for Cael.

So first of all, Hestia goes from a little funny to flat out grating to follow as the lead. She's basically a manhwa insert of those OI commenter's who shit on every woman who is too feminine or emotional and thinks they can do better by being a badass or the white lotus villainess who purposely provokes the lead and damage her reputation by acting like Diana was the aggressor. A flawed protagonist would be amazing but it becomes clear that the narrative claims Hestia in the right for all the times she purposely provokes Diana for numerous sins but it mostly centers around not getting with Caelus.

Here are some examples of Hestia being a dream girl for an Andrew Tate fan.

Honestly can't tell if she was written by a pick me girl or by a loser who's butthurt that he got rejected and Hestia is just his ideal girlfriend.

Caelus is not nearly as terrible but the way they try to make him sympathetic just feels like an ass pull you'd see in a 2018 depressing gacha life video

I like his design since we really need more long haired male leads but ehh.. that's it. As I said above Cael gives up a lot for Diana including land for a temple and killing 2 former villains for her even though she never asked. Naturally Diana did not fall for him just because he did great things for her especially after he killed 2 people. Not knowing what to do without her he falls into depression and kills himself in one timeline. Despite the common agreement that suicide is no one's fault, The blame is shifted onto his ex and her fiancé for cutting him off. While Helios and Diana are no angels Cael is treated like he can do wrong and while that it is the point since Hestia is his biggest fan, the narrative plays into this as well, mostly in shitting on Diana for "leading him on." And playing him for not becoming his bride. Feels straight out of a nice guy subreddit. His suicidal arc also just feels so weird.. it's there for sympathetic points and it's immediately solved when Hestia blows money on a title so she can marry him, no real work, just the good ol power of the boss babe to cure depression and suicidal thoughts. Frankly if I were him, I'd be extremely uncomfortable and upset if my current partner made it their entire personality to attack my ex, I feel like most people would rather continue their journey with their new partner if they want to go on a healthier path, and your ex constantly being brought up by the current partner for petty revenge would make that harder.

Diana is honestly more suited to be the protagonist then Hestia, ironic considering she was og fl

Shes everything the average "baddass babe" would hate, feminine, graceful, and dainty. She's a saintess who used to heal the common folk before she gets engaged to Helios and becomes the crown princess, from there she stops helping the commoners and works to be a noble. That would honestly be a better reason to call her out instead of "You didn't throw yourself to my baby boy Cael!!" Regardless she isn't as evil as described by Hestia. She's definitely not a perfect sweetheart but rejecting a man is not on her. Imagine if she stayed the protagonist and she had an arc dedicated to her betraying the people to be a perfect noblewoman where she is called out and learns to find a balance or make things a little more fair. Diana needed to be called out on a lot of things but shitting on her for not accepting a man's feelings is just stupid. Diana barely even knew Hestia and already this woman who married an ex friend of hers is making her entire life into being a dick to her.

I can't really see how I'm supposed to hate her when Hestia is just as much of a hypocrite. Here she judges Diana for wearing a fancier dress at a ball

Hestia aren't you throwing money everywhere you go to satisfy your own superficial goals? You seem more concerned about using that money to buy a title and marry a man you fanboy over instead of being the saintess you think you are. The pot calling the kettle black indeed.

they do try to explain why Hestia hates Diana so much aside from Cael but even then.. it's not really Diana's fault, just the rude priest who kicked her out, for all we know Diana was busy or never even told that Hestia showed up to be healed

That sounds more like a problem with the kingdom and not a single woman.

But ofc, the comments are dumb and see everything through the lense of what they would consider a "trashta" as the one true gospel, here's one comment that really got me.

Damn, I guess that means secret Santa or donations must be canceled since you don't share feelings for those random people who give you gifts.

I feel like if this one was surrounded about the biases we feel about the characters we like and how to actually move on and grow, you need to work on yourself instead of focusing on shifting the blame, this could be a great story on how all the characters better themselves with their own arcs.

Conclusion: For my derelict favorite claims to be a feminist alternative of a typical story when it's basically just taking the usual two faced obsessive villainess, not bothering to add some nuance to said character to make her likeable, putting her in the protagonist seat, and pushing the narrative that her pathetic revenge is totally right, with the plot basically being a self insert fanfiction you'd find on wattpad.

[moononmyfloor]

In the 2nd Quarter of 2024 Cdramaland...

1st Quarter

.

9. Drama set that I want to visit

The Altay Steppes

Introduced from the wonderful, wonderful drama To the Wonder/My Altay, (which EVERYONE should watch and especially if you haven't seen much of the incredibly vast and varied geographical and cultural landscape of China), I am now in love with this place. The show captured the glimmering waters, the freshness and evergreen-ness of.....everything and I can only imagine how it must be like to experience it first hand. For now I'll have to be satisfied with the digital footage like professional travel vloggers here:

.

10. Most memorable scene

The wedding scene from Regeneration

The groom is dashing and the bride is delicate and that's the most beautiful bridal getup I've ever seen and the entire hall screams RICH and elegant and it looks like an absolute dream and,

Enter the context and you have a haunting prelude to the most miserable chain reaction of a story full of deception and despair. Now I look at this scene and all I see in those sombre blacks and whites is dreary funeral vibes.

.

11. Most Favorite Actor of 2024

Jiang Long

Saw him this year on A Soldier's Story and Link Click, and he was an absolute delight. He's like the most unassuming person in the room who turns out to be the most cheerful, genuine, heartfelt guy with the best comedic timing ever.

.

12, 13. Favorite Supporting Roles AND Actors of 2024

Yu Shi and Alima Mayutian (as Batay and Tokan from To the Wonder)

In a way you can argue Batay was the male lead of the show but also, To the Wonder didn't really fit the usual parameters of a romcom drama and if anything, the FL and her mom were the main leads.

The roles of brother-in-law and sister-in-law pair of Batay and Tokan followed close behind as the new generation Kazakh ethnic youth who are equal parts fond of their simple, slow life in the grassland but are also tied down by it.

Batay and his beloved horse Snowshoe and Tokan and the Washboard she never got were highlights of the show. And these two actors gave a MAGNIFICENT performance in these two roles.

.

14. Favorite Villains

Shen Yurong (Liang Yongqi) and Grand Princess Wanning (Li Meng) from The Double were a great example of toxic and problematic done right. From start to end they were both very fascinating, full-fledged characters, their backstories were sound even though that didn't excuse that they were truly horrible people. At some point I found out I even felt sympathy for them. The show didn't try to put them forth like the next hot thing ever, instead presenting them as they are and letting the audience make their judgement; hence resulting in them stealing the screen from the main couple without even trying lol. 👏👏👏

.

15. Favorite Couple of the Year

Ling Jiushi (Huang Junjie) and Ruan Lanzhu (Xia Zhiguang) from The Spirealm

I adored their chemistry full of playful banter, protectiveness and indulgence, but also just look at them!

I mean

(Watch the show, it's good. Even if it wasn't that good I'd still support it for being a BL that got shelved during the ban anw. BUT it's actually good too!)

.

More Posts by Me

[yurayura-kurage]

A3! Troupe Event: MY WORST WEDDING | Event Story Translation (8/11)

Neither Japanese nor English is my first language so please forgive me if I made mistake. However, feel free to point me out, I’d love to hear your feedbacks on the translation ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Translation under the cut

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Sakyo’s mother: ––Oh my, so this is what the bride’s makeup room looks like. It’s princess-like.

Azami: I’m sorry for being selfish. The one who stirred Sakyo up is me.

Sakyo’s mother: It’s alright. Because there is no doubt that you guys will never be able to persuade me unless doing this way, Sakyo said this just then, right.

Sakyo is also a stubborn child, isn’t he? He really inherited my personality traits well.

…I’m sorry. Now that you guys have had things done for me, maybe I should just honestly and happily receive it…

Azami: I know. Look at this first.

Sakyo’s mother: ––

Azami: This dress was made by Yuki-san, our theater troupe’s costume designer after asking Sakyo’s younger sister to check your size. 

Sakyo’s mother: Eh, you guys went out of your way just to do this for me…?

Azami: When I asked, he was excited to prepare the dress.

Sakyo is always stingy to pay for the fabric for our theater troupe’s costume, but when he asked Yuki-san to make the dress with the highest quality clothing materials, Yuki-san was pumped up. 

Sakyo was the one who paid for all the materials to make the dress. He also said that he’d pay for the designing and tailoring cost too, but Yuki-san told him he enjoyed making the dress, and it was for Sakyo’s mother so he’s gonna make it for free.

Sakyo’s mother: So that’s it… This dress is so beautiful.

Azami: Sakyo also said “If she doesn’t want to wear it, then that’s fine. It’s just the same as the hair tie I gave her back then.”

Sakyo’s mother: That child… He still remembers that story.

Azami: This is the dress that Yuki-san made only for you, so it’ll definitely look good on you. And I’ll make sure that you can wear it with confidence after I do the makeup and style your hair.

So why don't you give it a try and then decide what to do? Please, I beg you.

Sakyo’s mother: …If you insist, then I guess I can’t say no anymore. I’m counting on you.

But why does Azami-kun have to go this far?

Azami: It’s gonna be a quite long story, so I’ll tell you ‘bout it while putting on the makeup.

*Short timeskip*

Azami: I grew interested in makeup when helping my sick mother with her makeup.

Sakyo’s mother: Your mother is…

Azami: She passed away when I was still a kid.

Sakyo’s mother: I see…

Azami: After my mother passed away, Sakyo came to my house. My dad was busy, so Sakyo has been taking care of me for a long time…

*Flashback*

Dad brought Sakyo to my house when I was 6 years old.

“Sakyo?” “Right. From now on, this guy will take care of you.”

Ever since I was a baby, there were lots of young folks (*) coming in and out of my house frequently, so it’s not strange to see newcomers in my house, but among them, Sakyo was very young.

Until then, it was the young folks taking turns to pick me up and drop me off at the nursery school. But since that day, Sakyo has been in charge of all those duties.

“Oi, Sakyo. I’m thirsty." “What did you just call me… Here, drink some water.”  “I want orange juice.”  “If you only drink sweet things, you’ll get cavities in your teeth.”  “Orange juice!”  “You can drink it only when you eat snacks.”

“Then, I’ll have some snacks.” “Only after you’re done learning how to use the abacus.” “Annoying.” “It’s gonna be useful if you can memorize it.” “No one does that.”

“Then what are your pals doing?" “Don’t know. I’ve never hung out with them.” “...Do you want to play with bubble wrap.” “That’s boring!”

He’s naggy, and looked like a cold person at first, but he kept following me because it was his responsibility to watch over me.

I even spent more time together with him than with my dad, we started to open up with each other gradually, and it slowly became more fun playing with him.

When my mom passed away, I pretended to look fine in front of my dad, but deep down in my heart, that was a huge shock to me.

It was undoubtedly thanks to Sakyo that I was able to truly get over my mom’s death at that time. 

*Back to present*

Azami: Our relationship is different now, but we used to be close in the past. Thanks to Sakyo, I was able to pull myself together and regain my energy, even when I was in elementary school––.

That’s right. Actually I wanted to say thanks to you for this when we met last time.

Sakyo’s mother: These cards are…

Azami: When my dad banned me from playing the popular card game when I was in elementary school, Sakyo made these cards for me and played with me.

You’re the one who originally created this right?

Sakyo’s mother: That’s right… So that’s it… Sakyo gave them to you… 

Fufu. How nostalgic.

When I was making these cards while waiting for Sakyo to return home, I was disappointed with myself that I couldn’t buy him a popular toy. 

But that child looked really happy playing my handmade cards, and I was saved by that. It was hard to make a living back then, but thanks to his presence, I was able to overcome many hardships.

He has grown up now, but he’s still a little shy and cute, isn’t he.

Fufu. This is nostalgic. I wish I could hug that small child again… There’s no way he will let me hug him now.

Azami: Speaking of hugs… People seem to do wedding hugs these days.

The thing you do after taking the oath, t-that’s too shameless but… it’s okay if it’s just a hug right?

Sakyo’s mother: That’s right… Then maybe I wouldn’t feel embarrassed even in front of my children.

…But that child and Azami-kun are pretty similar. His father also passed away because of illness when he was little…

Azami: Perhaps Sakyo is doing his best to support my dad because he can’t show filial piety to his father anymore.

I’m also the same. I want to do something for you, and for the part I couldn’t do for my mom. It’s completely my own self-satisfaction though…

Here, it’s done.

Sakyo’s mother: It’s not your self-satisfaction. I’m pleased, too.

…I don’t look like myself. It’s like Cinderella’s magic, isn’t it.

It would be a waste if I don’t take photos when putting on this wonderful makeup and wearing this special dress that you guys prepared for me. 

If I don’t keep this as a commemoration, I may regret it for the rest of my life.

Azami: That means––.

Sakyo’s mother: I wonder if I can fit into this dress though.

Azami: It seems that it was made to be easy to adjust the waist and so on.

Sakyo’s mother: As expected of costume designer-san.

Azami: I’ll call someone to help you change costumes.

Sakyo’s mother: Ah, wait a minute––

Azami-kun, thank you for always taking care of that child.

Azami: ––No, as I told you earlier, it was me who has been taken care of for a long time…

Sakyo’s mother: Even this time too, I now understand Sakyo’s recent place to belong is–– I realize how important and precious the theater troupe and your house are to Sakyo.

He sometimes told me that he was looking after you when you were a kid… That child, he seemed to be having a lot of fun while complaining all the time, didn’t he.

Ever since he became your caretaker, the atmosphere around Sakyo has changed, he even became softer.

He worried about you so much that he couldn’t put his mind at ease as if he had a child of his own.

…That’s why you are like a grandchild to me.

From now on, please continue taking care of that child.

Azami: …Yeah.

Translator’s note:

(*) He was using the word “若い連中” here, which literally means young folks, and as far as I understand, this also refers to the young people who don’t have a certain rank in a yakuza group.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Previous || Next

[obetrolncocktails]

Holy Figures | Josh Kiszka X Reader | Part 1

Warning: Alcohol consumption, parody on religion (if that upsets you, do not read this fic), flirting. The next part will be extremely NSFW. Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.2K

A/N: Idk, something about the Halloween pics of the boys made me feral, particularly for Josh and whats hotter than Pope Josh undressing nun Y/n? Anyway, enjoy!

“The Pope?” Are you fucking serious?” You asked, your head already spinning from the punch that had every liquor known to man in it. You chugged the bittersweet liquid down, feeling the burn of the concoction as it slithered down your throat and into your empty belly. You’d pay for that mistake later. 

“What? Come on, Y/n. We’re the perfect team. You’re literally Mother Teresa!” He reached for your fake crucifix, lifting it in the air to watch it dangle. His breath smelled of the same alcohol, and it was obvious that it was working well in his favor. 

“Such a shame we’re here. It’s so sinful,” Sammy said, dressed up as a priest. “Sexy devils? Angels? Oh my God, you should have seen the guy with the fake bloody chainsaw.” He held a solo cup in his hand, pulling it up to his lips as he scoped the room. 

“Don’t say the Lord’s name in vain,” Josh warned, pointing his finger at Sam. “You should know better, Father.”

“Yeah, Father. Come on,” You agreed, flashing him a brilliant grin. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Oh my Goodness,” he repeated, mending the word slip. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, stepping further into the large house. To your delight, Josh followed you. You had a crush on him for years, and everyone knew it, including him. The feelings were returned in flirty acts here and there, and you both had kissed once in highschool, but college had sent you in two different directions. 

“So tell me,” he said with a grin. You knew he was about to say something smart. “What turned the Halloween party into the Hallelujah party?” You punched him in the shoulder. 

“You tell me! You’re the Pope for Christ sake,” You said, not realizing the pun you had made. 

“Very funny, Y/n. I never realized how much religious rhetoric we use in everyday language,” he said with his hands on his hips, his chin turned upward in thought. 

“Care to enthuse me with an etymology lesson?” you asked him with sarcasm. He eyed you mischievously.

“No, but how about another lesson?” He knew what he was doing, manifesting success when the heat rolled up your neck and into your cheeks. 

“Stop,” you warned, swatting him on the butt. “Act priestly, Pope Joshua.”

“Has he prayed over you yet?” Jake said, appearing out of nowhere, his body cloaked in a black cape, his face covered in a black bandana, his head topped with a sleek bolero hat.

“Zorro?” You asked, taking notice of how well his facial hair worked with the costume. Oh God, Jake too? You thought, appreciating how effortlessly sexy he looked in the costume. 

“No! I’m Westley from the Princess Bride.” He said, lifting the hat off of his head and tipping it to you. 

“You’re totally Zorro,” you said, stealing his hat and placing it on top of your head, on top of the nun’s habit you already wore. 

“Either way, you still like it, don’t lie,” he said, blowing you a kiss and stealing his hat back. “Also,” he said, taking a step back, pulling out a full length sword that looked alarmingly real. “I will fight for your honor,” He said in a fake British accent. 

“He didn’t get the whole ‘Heaven and Hell’ memo,” Sam said, edging his way back through the crowd to join you. 

“I wanted to try something different this year. Plus, I can easily send you to Hell,” Jake said, waving the fake sword in the air. 

“Jake, you’re going to put someone’s eye out!” you said, ducking below his swing. 

“Relax! It’s fake,” he said, sheathing it back on his belt.

“Beer pong anyone?” Josh asked, somehow having disappeared and reappeared, this time with a single ping pong ball. “It’s either beer or jäger bombs. Take your pick.” 

“Go big or go home. Jägerbombs!” Sammy yelled above the music, pointing deeper into the house. “Let’s go!” 

You followed him through the crowd, finding the game set up in the garages, twenty or thirty people lined up around the ping pong table, chanting drunkenly over their choice to win. The floor of the garage was awash with all sorts of spilled alcohol. You heard the crunch of several solo cups as people stepped on them and kicked them underneath the table. 

“Game!” a raucous partygoer yelled, pounding on the table and pointing his finger at the winner. “Jason wins by a landslide–Drew, you’ve got fucking terrible aim, man. If you bet on this fucker here, you’re fucking stupid,” He said, laughing as he stumbled off into the crowd. “Who’s next?” He asked, raising his voice above the music. 

“Us!” Josh wailed loud enough so that he could hear. 

“Come on over…Pope?!” he said, drunkenly waving Josh over, who reached for your hand and pulled you toward the table. Admittedly, your belly flipped with butterflies as he held your hand, even though he thought nothing of it.  

“Jake! Hey! Come prep the drinks,” the game maker said, watching as Jake walked into the game. “What will it be?” He asked Josh. 

“Jägerbombs,” Josh answered confidently, bending to pick up loose ping pong balls from the garage floor. 

“Ever played before?” He asked you, handing you the stray balls. You shook your head no. 

“Well, that’s a lie. It’s been years,” you told him. You both watched as volunteers arranged solo cups in a triangle on each side, pouring Redbull into each cup before carefully placing a shot of Jägermeister in the middle. A few minutes later, the table was prepared and bets were placed on who would win, most people choosing Josh as the winner. A few of your friends bet on you, placing twenties into a cut open empty water jug. 

“Heads or tails?” Jake asked, revealing a poker chip with casino branding on one side, the other blank. 

“Tails,” You told him. 

“Josh you’re heads,” he said, preparing to flip the chip. 

He flicked it up in the air with his thumb and you watched it spin before landing back in his hand. 

“Heads wins. Josh, your serve.” 

“Hell yeah! Hey, Y/n?” Josh asked, moving to his side of the table, bouncing a ping pong ball on it. Your face contorted with confusion and before you could respond, he had already bounced his first ball across the table, making it into a cup on the first try. Whistles and cheers erupted from the room. You sighed and reached forward, pulling the ball out of the cup and tipping the drink back into your mouth. The combination of alcohol was vile; it burned as it went down and you knew that you were in for a long night. His third ball landed in another cup and you took it too, draining it as well. 

“Alright, Y/n. Beat Josh’s ass,” Sammy said, sipping on a beer. You offered him a sly grin. What Josh didn’t know was that you were about to dominate the game, because fortunately for you, but unfortunately for him, you lied. You were an expert at beer pong. In the early days of college, you and Sam had become reacquainted, frequenting parties with one another, challenging each other all the time. After a while, Sam had lost his edge, making the mistake of giving you too many pointers that you eventually used to beat him. 

“So Josh. Remember how I told you I didn’t play beer bong?” You asked him. “Well, I lied.” You prepped your first shot, bouncing it at the best angle, landing the ball directly in the tip of the triangle formation of cups. 

“Oh shit,” he said softly, reaching for the cup, disposing of the ball and drinking the contents. “You’re going to make me shitfaced,” He said, his lips spreading in a brilliant grin. 

“Eh, maybe. You gonna pussy out?” You asked with a devilish smirk. 

“I never thought I’d hear that word coming from such a good christian lady,” he said, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his costume. 

“You flatter me,” you said, bouncing the next shot against the table, almost missing the cups. The ball bounced off of several cup lips before ricocheting into the bottom line, scoring once more. Josh sighed, lifting the cup again to his lips. 

“Alright woman, make it three for three and I’ll be impressed.” His eyes sparkled as he watched you. He crouched to be eye level with the cups, trying to intimidate you. 

You breathed in, steading your hand as you prepared for the next shot, taking an extended moment to choose where you’d attempt to score. This time, you decided to toss the ball directly in the cup, and actually to your surprise, it made it in without even hitting the walls of the cup. 

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking good at this. What the fuck,” Josh said, throwing his hands in the air. You couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Holy,” Sam snorted. 

“What’s wrong, Joshy? Scared you’re gonna suck?” You said flirtatiously.

“Yes, actually. You’re making me work for it.”

By the end of the game, you had cleared Josh’s side of the table, while he still had four cups left on your side. “Winner!” The game maker shouted, coming over and lifting your hand over your head. Your head swam, the liquor lowering your inhibitions. The crowd roared and several people stepped forward to drink the remaining cups. 

“I am impressed,” Josh mused. “You’re deadly accurate, woman.”

“It’s a secret talent, I guess,” You answered. You were beginning to feel a bit nauseous, your face flushed from the alcohol. “Hey, I’m gonna take a walk outside. It’s hot in here,” you told him. 

“Mind if I join you?” Josh asked. “I could use the fresh air, too.” His face softened, and you swore you saw a glimmer of eagerness in his eyes. You nodded, feeling the butterflies reappear within your belly. 

The crowd was dense, it was dark and music was blaring. He reached to take your hand, leading you through the throngs of people onto the deck outside. Immediately you felt better, the fresh air filling your lungs, making you feel less and less inebriated by the second.

“Ugh it feels so much better out here,” Josh said, pulling off his hat, fluffing his hair. “It’s hot as hell in there.” He leaned against the railing of the deck, tilting his head back to look at the stars. You couldn’t help but notice the flush that had reddened his cheeks and the sweat that had left a glistening layer on his skin, contouring his features in an almost sexual way. How is he so fucking hot? You thought, before clearing your throat. With how tipsy you were, you weren’t quite sure if you had said it out loud. 

“You’re staring,” He said, the words filling you with dread when his eyes met yours, catching you in the act. 

“Oh, um,” you said, adjusting your step. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” He said, stepping forward toward you, his hands reaching for yours. “I like it. Can I be honest with you?” He asked softly, his face just inches from yours. Your eyes fell to the plush of his lips, watching them move as he spoke. 

“Yes,” you said in a low murmur, bringing your eyes up to meet his gaze. “I haven’t been able to get you off of my mind. For years.” 

“Josh, we’re drunk. You don’t mean that,” You reasoned with him, though you wanted his words to be true. 

“But I do,” He said, lifting his fingertips to your chin, tilting your head upward. “I’ve just always been too sober to be honest with you.” He earned a grin from you that time. 

“Well, can I be honest?” You turned the question on him. 

“Of course,” He spoke. 

“I think about you a lot,” you spoke, stepping forward towards him, backing Josh up.

“You do?” He asked softly, his eyebrows rising with intrigue. 

“How often?” He asked, biting his bottom lip, his hands moving to graze your hips. 

“Every night,” You answered honestly. 

You watched him visibly swallow, his cheeks reddening, but this time it wasn’t from alcohol. “Mmm,” he hummed softly, floating his lips just above yours. There could have been a crowd of people watching but in the moment, you couldn’t have cared less about them. The music was nothing but a low warble and your friends were long forgotten within the party. 

“Remember that time we kissed?” Josh asked with a song chuckle. “We were young. And innocent.” 

“Of course I remember, Josh.” You answered too eagerly. 

“Well, I’m not feeling so innocent anymore. Are you?” He asked, his fingertips slightly digging into your hisp through your costume. You shook your head no. 

“I’m tired of being good,” You answered honestly.

“Then maybe we should stop trying,” He suggested. 

“Sinning on Halloween dressed as holy figures?” You asked, snaking your hands up his costume, grabbing a fistful of the fabric at his chest. 

“Well, it’s one day of the year. I think we can get away with a night of breaking our vows,” He said, knotting the costume crucifix around his fist, pulling you in for the first kiss in years. 

Taglist: @theweightofstardust@thecoldwind@stardustdanny@stxverandle @starchords @strangersingold @dannythedog @mywaysooon @gretavanhoney @moonlightanthem @sparrowofthedawn@gustingirl@cowboysamkiszka@fictional-duchess@gretagolden@bypeapod@aureummel@screechesincoherently@capturethechaos@ageoftambourine@basically-hayley@gretavanfleas@tlexx@amouratomique@strangeh0rizons@wriwrites@fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw@gvfvanfleet@jakekiszkasgiggle@katie-gvf @mgk777 @streamsofstardust @shellygvf @celestialfauna @gretavankleep37 @theweightofjake@thatcatbsong @tripthelightfandomtastic @teddiie@mckenna4 @myownparadise96 @b3l1nda @doodle417 @ashabeannn @emsgvf @prophetofthedune @groggyvanfleet @callmebymym @kdarling1@jakesguitarstring@of-infinite-wonders@mywaygvf@gretasmokerising@gretavanlace@the-chaotic-cow@greta-flanveet @janegvf @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @hayley1623 @theweightofdreams-gvf @zoelle16 @lvnterninthenight @slutforthejuck @megsobryan @age-of-nyahh @gretavancreep @eeeloraaa @doodle417 @gretavansteph @sammysvanfeet @lovejessejay @sammiejane22 @bumblebeeswrite@ryegvf @unfortunatelykristin @samkiszkabreakmyback @loofypoofy @songbirds-sweet @sammyslappers @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @ohhey1293 @jakesgrapejuice@kureenuh @kenzy-daddy @jazzyllemmon @groggyvanfleet @natdance927 @lallisonl @jakeyboiiiiiii @fleet-prodigy

[isopodonanescalator]

intro!

this is long overdue lol so um hi! my names Abbi and pronouns are she/her. also accepted are silly/goose <3. i am a minor so no sexual stuff etc etc. also terfs dni. brown eyed men and silly little guys PLEASE interact! one thing about me is i have never been serious a day in my life so if you see me on here being serious then you might want to prepare for the apocalypse. additionally, @sillygooseun is my official tumblr big sis™️!!! i occasionally go absolutely feral over Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles so um. yeah. apologies. i don’t really know what else to put here so im just going to list some stuff i like (this is not everything because i am in way too many fandoms)

-SUPERNATURAL.

-falsettos

-anything starkid productions (there’s too many for me to list them all)

-the hunger games

-percy jackson

-FALL OUT BOY

-MCR

-the princess bride (my all time fav movie)

-i am literally ryan gosling do not argue

-that stemmed from the barbie movie and now i just am him so deal with it

-taylor swift (yes im a swiftie suck it)

-i can be a bit of a film nerd sometimes so be warned

-also a nerd for rock music and general pop culture stuff so also be prepared for that too

-most of the time whatever it is you followed me for is most likely not what you’ll get

-i love pomegranates and when they’re not in season i will occasionally go insane

-i love halloween and scary movies so throughout the fall that’s what a lot of my posts are about

-crazy? i was crazy once. they locked me in a room. a rubber room. a rubber room with rats. and rats make me crazy.

-i can also say that in spanish

-¿loco? Una vez estuve loco. Me encerraron en una habitación. una habitación de goma. una habitación de goma con ratas. y las ratas hacerme loco.

-i have a couple of side blogs that i will list below

@being-serious-off-main important/serious posts

@poetryandprompts poetry sideblog

@plagueriddenchild is my sideblog for a victorian child i made up with my mind

@wheresmycrownimbreakingdown trina (falsettos!) sideblog

@arosebyanyothernameisascandal grace chasity sideblog

@lovemeforwhatiam trina (in trousers!) sideblog

@4ny-w4y-the-w1nd-bl0ws Eurydice sideblog

@theainmynameisforalwaysright abigail foster (oc) sideblog

@cospple COSTCO X APPLE CIDER ACCOUNT

third to last one is matching with @richie-shitlips <3

last two matching with @chompisatheatrekid (:

[satelliteaccident]

hi there i recently read main and perdition and i just wanted to say (again) how much i liked it. you said that you may have some pointers on how to write in the style of the game and i actually wanted to come back to that because i want to try to write some myself soon. if you've got any tips i'm all ears. hope this isn't weird or anything 😅

hi em! not only is it not weird, you've made my day. thank you for the kind words, and thank you for giving me the chance to blather about writing and (hopefully) be useful.

*clears throat* *takes off "just chillin" hat and puts on "guy who sometimes knows what he's talking about" hat, which mostly means remembering how to find the shift key*

Hi! I'm Six. I'm an editor who has worked in the publishing industry for about ten years across print, web, radio, podcast and television.

I also write Disco Elysium fanfic. In the process of planning and writing Main and Perdition, I worked hard to craft something that I hoped would play, intelligently, in the DE sandbox.

I didn't wholly succeed. Time permitting, I'm happy to grab a figurative highlighter and point out spots where I failed, why, and what to do differently if you don't wanna do the same dumb things I did.

But this post is not that post! Instead, it's...

How To Mimic Style: Tips For Writing Your Disco Elysium Fic

Pick your playthrough.

One of the most beautiful, epic, fascinating things about DE is its multivariance. That trait extends to Harry. Is he a pacifist sober Sorry Cop who throws his gun into the sea, or a fiery anti-racist who throws hands and roundhouse kicks, or a ~mystic visionary~ who hears voices and does pyrholidon about it?

Yes! And no. Which is phenomenal to experience as a game player, but it's table-flippingly antithetical to writing a fic with a coherent emotional through-line.

So decide which Harry you're writing. It'll help you narrow down what your guy might or might not do, and it'll also help you write characters (Kim, Jean, Judit, Garte, Sylvie, and so many more) whose responses greatly depend on how Harry behaves.

It'll also help you spot places where the game, in its richness, has left space for you to write into questions it leaves unanswered -- but more on this when we get to tolerating discomfort.

Embrace the skillset.

It's daunting at first, but working with it rather than avoiding it helps you understand who's in Harry's head, what they do, and how mighty they are. (It also helps to pay attention to how they talk, but that's less about writing DE fic and more about honing an eye and ear for dialogue -- yet another possible future post.)

To help me with who and what when I was drafting M+P, I made this spreadsheet:

It was my zero-draft bestie because it helped me figure out what skills might comment in any given moment, which I suspect contributes to the places where the fic succeeds at feeling similar to the game. Feel free to use/share if it helps you, too.

As for how mighty, that's where stats come in. I didn't do a full stat sheet for M+P Harry, but I did decide his base attributes (INT-PSY-FYS-MOT). The game lets you put a total of 12 points across them; a base of 3 is average, with 1 being shithouse and 6 being HARDCORE TO THE MEGA. I also chose his signature skill (Inland Empire, which is my favourite one to write because I too am a middle-aged white bi-sexual sopping-wet-dog guy who never became a poet or an entroponaut).

I could then do the maths when deciding, "How hard would it be to succeed at [thing happening in the story]? Is that something this Harry is capable of? If so, is it obvious to him that he'll succeed, or would it *Princess Bride voice* take a miracle?"

And then, when I'm on my A-game, I follow up with my favourite DE-writing question: Regardless of whether Harry *could* succeed, would it be a chewier, more compelling story if he failed? (Yet again, more on this when we talk discomfort.)

So. Difficulty levels: know 'em, check 'em, put 'em in a stew fic. I worked from this screenshot, though I don't remember where I took it (this was at least a year ago, ack). Apologies to whichever wiki I have failed:

Let shit go wrong.

This is hard. It requires tolerating discomfort -- which is already hard -- in a situation where you are at the keyboard and can make it stop, which makes it that much harder.

But shit going wrong is the absolute beating heart of DE.

Let's weave some threads together. In the first section, I mentioned writing into spaces the game makes with unanswered questions; in the second, I mentioned making space in your fic-writing process for skill checks to fail.

Letting shit go wrong is how we as fic writers can expand into those spaces -- and when we do, sometimes, something beautiful is allowed to happen.

While I leave it to each reader to decide whether anything beautiful did in fact happen, here's one example of how this process unfolded in my practice.

I hated reading the solution to "Rigorous Self-Critique." *Hated* it. I hated what it showed me about Harry's callousness, his violence, his utter disregard for boundaries. Most of all, I hated this:

You held a young woman by the arm and kept her in your apartment for 20 minutes against her will. 

What the fuck. What the fuck? Who *does* that? (Harry.) *Why?* (Because he wanted to.)

*Fuck*.

This section, you may have noticed, left me feeling kind of a lot of discomfort.

I could've pushed that feeling away. I could've made excuses. ("I mean, the pale makes people confused about which memories are theirs and which are someone else's, right? That must be what happened, because Harry would *never* do that.") I could've done mental gymnastics to avoid the conclusion that what Harry did was wrong. ("Well, maybe he was *helping* her, and he just doesn't remember!")

I wouldn't have been -- and you, person reading this, wouldn't be -- bad for doing any of those things. Life is hard. Sometimes, elective hardness (shush) is too much. That's okay.

But I sat with the discomfort. I followed it into the space in the game: what happened in those 20 minutes? Who was this young woman -- did Harry even know or care? How did she escape? I followed it into the space in my story: what would happen if Harry, as he is post-Martinaise, failed a check (in the fic, he "succeeds", but the outcome of that success is failure #justlittleelysiumthings) and recalled what happened?

And I ended up with M+P.

It's not a perfect fic. It may not even be a *good* fic; I've spent too much time with it to have an opinion on its goodness. But it is absolutely an answer-through-story, and I feel less discomfort and more satisfaction, more joy, for having written it. I hope this post helps you have that experience, too.

[northiron]

This is a private rol.epl.ay blog for 𝑳𝒀𝑨𝑵𝑵𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑲𝑨 𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑶𝑭 𝑰𝑪𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑬. Divergent and extremely headcanon based. the blog itself is a sideblog to @gedwimora​ , as this is a hub-style multimuse. If you follow here the follow back will come from there.

Medium to sporadic activity. Revived by Train | EST | 30s | They/Them

❄︎ 𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑫𝒀 𝑰𝑵. Bully Hunter, Girl In The Tower , Go Out with a Smile , Hot-Blooded , Knight in Shining Armor , Living MacGuffin , Passionate Sports Girl , Iron Lady , Rebellious Princess , Silk Hiding Steel , Small Role, Big Impact , Tomboy with a Girly Streak , Unkempt Beauty , No Guy Wants An Amazon , Action Mom , The Bride with a Past , Even the Girls Want Her , Final Girl , Blood Knight , Casual Kink , Deadpan Snarker , Didn't Think This Through , Bastard Begetter , Children Raise You.

𝑹𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺  ❄︎ 𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑹𝒀

iconless until further notice

𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶 :

❄︎ Lyanna is about 34 in both the present A.SO.IAF and HO.TD timeline ❄︎ I don't specify what happened between her and Rha.eg.ar in part to give people playing him some say over his actions and because I myself have no fixed stance on what went down. It's a topic that is largely avoided and danced around when people talk to her, in part because of what people assume happened and how knowing too much about it could destabilize the realm.

❄︎ This is a R + L = J zone and a Lya.n.na is the Knight of the Laughing Tree truther zone.

❄︎ Ly.an.na doesn't marry Robert after the war. She uses the assumptions of what went down to kinda force everyone's hand, that and suddenly she's not so appealing now that she's a bastard whom she refuses to abandon and might be from assault and the prince's. In fact Lya.n.na never marries, though I tend to think she likely had more children but all of them are bastards. I tend to keep that loose because honestly I'd rather let other people insert their own muses/ocs there.

❄︎ Lyanna's cover story for Jon, since she refuses to pretend he's not hers is that he's Arthur Dayne's, though many still think he's likely Rhaegar's. When that came up and threats were made it was made clear the North would go to war over the baby and Lyanna's safety, smarter heads prevailed and the Arthur Dayne story was pushed to keep things from going off the rails.

❄︎ Lives in Winterfell with Ned's family and is very happy until you know, The Books Happen. Spends that time doing things like learning swordsmanship and all the more masculine things her father wouldn't let her learn.

❄︎ Can go south but more likely than not ends up staying in Winterfell even after Robb goes to war and fends off the Ironborn invasion.

HO.TD VERSE:

❄︎ Mainly show based since the book is a historical text full of conflicting evidence and inaccuracies as is expected from a history book. The show at least is a concrete set of events.

❄︎ She's a Stark cousin who just kinda out here living her life with her bastard son(/kids) up in the North.

❄︎ She went south for Baelon's birthday tournament and actually engaged in the joust as the knight of the laughing tree. She unhorsed several men being before being unhorsed and unmasked herself by Dae.mon. Jon was also conceived at this tourney. He father is whoever, I have an idea for how he could be a targ bastard still but it's not really important and not the default. If people want that I'm happy to do it.

❄︎ For the sake of rp is sent south to Harrenhall/Dragonstone with Jon to act as a Northern representative/advisor.

[storymaker14]

Okay, I haven’t been super open about what The Big Solo Project is about… but a synchronicity too beautiful to not share just happened, so I must.

The story concerns a relationship between a guy and a gal, more or less pushed together by circumstances (well, her relatives) and told to be a couple. Those who are close followers of my previous work and/or my roleplay partners will not be surprised to hear there’s an age difference: he’s 35, she turns 19 in the course of the story. Also, the majority takes place in 2022. So, that means he was born in 1987 (I decided he’d already had his 2022 birthday by the time it starts), and she was born in 2003.

So, today I thought they’d have a movie night. And she should be watching a movie that’s legitimately excellent and would totally be a comfort movie, but was released in 1987 so she could tease him by calling it old. So, to Wikipedia, and “1987 in film”.

The Princess Bride. Perfect.

So then I thought he’d probably have a clever comeback and call some movie from 2003 ancient. Back to Wikipedia, “2003 in film”.

Finding Nemo. Nice, but… what else came out in 2003?

…

Lost in Translation. Too perfect.

So now there is a scene that goes something like:

“I thought you said this movie was old.”

“It is!”

“It came out the year I was born.”

“... realllllly? 😀”

“Okay, but next movie night, it’s gonna be that ancient film Finding Nemo.”

“I’d prefer Lost in Translation; the main characters’ relationship really speaks to me.”

“Oo, yeah, that’s a good mov– WAIT WAS THAT ANOTHER DIG AT MY AGE?!?”

Anyway.

A spot of writing done; haven’t decided what the next bit is, or whether that moment that keeps playing in my head is actually going to be included. It’s a nice moment, but I’m not sure if it fits. We’ll see. Curse this uncharted territory.

[writtenfromhawkins]

hoax - part two.

ship: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: as you had feared, your fake date changed the dynamic between you and steve. but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. 

word count: 2.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol, princess bride spoilers (kind of? i don’t know, it’s been thirty years, watch the movie and then talk to me about it because it’s my favorite).

author’s note: it’s finally here! hope everyone enjoys it. @taylorsmylover​ @sllooney​ @cheerupbarry​

part one.

all's well that ends well to end up with you.

After Steve dropped you off at home, life went on. You worked, you studied, you spent time with your friends—including him. Nothing felt off per se, but there was a shift, a change in routine, a difference maybe not dramatic to you, but something the others definitely picked up on.

For movie night, your suggestion The Princess Bride lost handily. Despite that, though, Steve still showed up with a copy.

“Oh,” he’d said, almost sheepish, “this isn’t the one we agreed on? Sorry, guys.”

The two of you sat a little closer on the couch, whispered softer, and giggled more. He rolled his eyes and grumbled when you talked about how cute Cary Elwes was, you playfully smacked his bicep in response. It was a nice, quiet night, totally typical, so you couldn’t figure out why Robin looked so perplexed when you caught her eye from across the room.

Maybe if that had been it—just one weird night of affection—your friends could have left it alone, chalking it up to a lapse of judgment on your part. But it didn’t stop. Hugs went on for too long, and smiles lingered. Any time you passed, his hand somehow found the small of your back, guiding you by. Sure, Steve was known to be affectionate with you, boundaries long abandoned, so it wasn’t that weird. But the way you’d lean into each touch was a new development. Although not as alarming of one as Steve’s very recent lack of flirting.

Cute girl after cute girl passed through Family Video without receiving so much as a wink or a terribly delivered pick up and Robin was becoming increasingly concerned. If he wasn’t sick, and he wasn’t, he wasn’t whining enough for that, it meant something else was going on.

“Harrington,” she hissed one day, eyes wide, “that total babe was throwing herself at you. That, like, never happens.”

“Was she?” Steve’s bewilderment was genuine, he simply hadn’t noticed.

“Come on, you didn’t see that? I could feel the sexual tension from here.”

“Nope,” he answered, popping the ‘P’. “Guess she just wasn’t my type.”

But Robin knew better, he wasn’t exactly discerning; anyone with a pulse and boobies was his type. Something was up and, after conspiring—gossiping—with Eddie, she was determined to figure out what exactly it was.

—     

You’d probably never admit it, especially not unprompted, but Tuesday was your favorite day of the week. Sure, you were stuck at work for far too long—three doubles allowed you the freedom to study while also affording you the luxury of paying your bills—but it was also heavy metal night. Pickings were slim in a town the size of Hawkins and, as a result, Corroded Coffin got the chance to basically do a full set and you got to see your friends.

It became routine ever since Eddie joined your little group. You, of course, had no choice but to be in attendance. But Steve and Robin would come by too. Your regulars hadn’t been too receptive to the band—you’d been asked what is this ruckus? too many times to count—so, while none of you were exactly metal heads, you figured three confused, but supportive faces in the crowd couldn’t hurt. Besides, you found if you cheered loud enough, you could get most of the other bargoers on board. 

So it was no surprise to see Eddie step through the dinged door, followed promptly by Robin. Even if they were a little early.

“Hey, guys,” you call out, waving. 

You duck below the bar where the sanitizing bucket and rags were located. The very brief lull after Happy Hour didn’t allow for much dallying and you were stuck doing your regular tasks in a very short window of time: clean the bar, get clean glasses, and cut up your garnishes. 

You grab a torn piece of fabric, dip it in the cleaning solution carefully and stand. You’re barely back to your full height when you’re greeted by Eddie and Robin’s faces just inches from yours. They’re leaning forward, elbows resting on the very surface you need to clean. 

“Jesus Christ!” You rear back, free hand jumping to your chest. 

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Eddie asks, raising his brows. He can’t help it—he’s curious.

“Yeah,” Robin encourages with a nod, “we don’t keep secrets here.”

You sigh, reaching out and pushing them back gently so you can wipe up rings of condensation and spilled booze. “I’d really like to play along but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Robin laughs. If it sounds like she doesn’t believe you it’s because she doesn’t. “Uh huh, sure.”

“Something’s up with you and Steve, we can tell.”

You freeze. “I—what?”

“You’re not denying it,” Eddie points out, grinning.

“No, she’s not,” Robin agrees.

It was then you realize what was going on: you were being interrogated. “Nothing’s going on. We’re friends.”

“We’re friends and he’s not all over me,” Robin points out.

“Yeah, I wonder why that is,” you quip.

“The Princess Bride!”

“What?”

“The Princess fucking Bride,” Eddie repeats himself, eyeing you knowingly. “I was finally gonna get you guys to watch Labyrinth and he showed up with that.”

“He grabbed the wrong movie, so what?” You pause. “And you loved The Princess Bride!”

“Yeah,” Eddie admits with a chuckle, “I really did. It has some really badass sword scenes and Andre the Giant, what’s not to like?” All very fair points.

Robin sighs, poking at his shoulder. “You’re getting distracted.” She fixes her gaze on you. “Steve is the worst liar. You gotta know he did that on purpose.”

Alright, yeah, you kinda did. He wasn’t going to be getting any Oscars any time soon. But it was an act you didn’t—couldn’t—think too much about.

If you really considered it, after that night with his parents, a switch flipped, and never went back. You weren’t together, you were still very much just friends, but the touches, the unbridled affection, the soft moments didn’t stop after the facade ended and you weren’t complaining.

The dam had burst and you didn’t think you could go back. You worried if you brought it up, shining a spotlight on the niceties, that it would all end. You were selfish—you wanted it all.

“Okay…” You let out a huff of air. “So, we did kinda go on a date.”

The revelation sends Robin spiraling. “What?” She exclaims, dramatically throwing herself on the bar—she couldn’t just feel her despair, she had to show it too. “And here I thought you were the one girl in town left immune to the Harrington… uh, charm, I guess?”

“Shush,” you admonish, shooting her a warning look. You turn, flashing your customers an apologetic before your focus turns back to your friends. “It wasn’t real.”

“Alright, you lost me now,” Eddie pipes up.

Robin raises her head just enough so she can look up at you through long lashes. “What does that mean?”

“His dad was being a dick about some work dinner and he needed a plus one.” You shrug. “I just had to act like his girlfriend.”

“Oh god,” Robin groans. “Can’t believe we gave him that much credit.”

“Huh?”

“He’s been making goo-goo eyes at you for ages.”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums in agreement. “It’s kinda gross.”

“We thought he finally did something about it. Even though I always thought you were too smart for that.”

They kept going but your mind was reeling. “Goo-goo eyes?”

“You’re still on that?” Robin can’t hide it, she was enjoying this. “Yes, he practically turns into a Bugs Bunny cartoon with giant heart eyes every time he sees you. And, in true dingus fashion, he asks you on a fake date instead of a real one.” She shakes her head. “Makes no sense but it obviously worked on you somehow.”

“It didn’t—I—”

“Oh, come on.”

You blink, there’s nothing for you to say. You can’t exactly argue with Robin but actually agreeing feels wrong too. You’re stuck, two pairs of eyes trained intently on you, and you’re desperate for escape. You scan the crowd of bored-looking customers, none of which seem to eagerly need you, before you catch glimpse of the empty stage.

“Don’t you have a show or something?”

Eddie smirks. He knows what you’re doing but, in an act of pity, he decides to play along. “As a matter of fact, I do. Think the boys should be here by now. Wanna help us set up, Rob?”

“Sure.” She spins around on the stool and, when she gets up, you think you’re free. Until she calls over her shoulder, “Better figure it out soon, lover girl.”

—

Less than an hour later, the stage was full of instruments, microphones, and, most importantly, the band itself. The crowd increased, although not entirely for the music, and you didn’t notice Steve arrived until he was standing right before you.

Your grip on the bottle of Southern Comfort you were holding slackened a bit. All you could think was goo-goo eyes.

“Hey. sweetheart,” he grins, plopping down and claiming the nearest bar stool as his own.

You hold up a finger, letting him know you’d be with him in a minute, as you replace the bottle of whiskey with sloe gin and amaretto—with both hands officially occupied, you poured an ounce of each into the shaker.

“Crazy night,” you let him know, voice just barely able to be heard over the screeching of electric guitars and booming drums. You’re talking but you’ve yet to really look at him.

Orange juice fills the rest of the metal cup before you’re sliding a cover on, throwing it over your shoulder, and shaking the cup from side to side. Once it’s mixed and chilled, you drain it out into a Collins glass, admiring the brightly colored liquid that trickled out. Prettiest Alabama Slammer you’ve made yet.

That drink belongs to the redhead at the end of the bar. You slide it over to her with the friendliest “there ya go, love” you could muster before walking back over to your newest customer.

“Want your regular, Stevie?”

When he gives you the affirmative, you get to work. Whiskey sour, very light on the sour.

It’s easy enough and you’re handing him his drink in record time. In exchange, as always, you get far too much money. You used to argue, your attempt at letting him know he was being too generous, but he’d never budge—if he could, he’d give you even more, you were worth every penny.

He sips it casually while studying you over the rim of the glass. You looked pretty, that never seemed to change, but your shoulders were stiff and your jaw clenched. He could tell something was up. “You seem tense.”

You got that right. “I’m fine, just a little tired, I guess.”

It’s an easy lie after being at work for nine hours but it was one Steve didn’t really buy. Not that he pushed it. The two of you were close enough that he knew if you wanted to talk to him, you would. So he changed the subject. “Where’s Robin?”

“She’s around here somewhere. She showed up with Eddie to help set up.”

“Weird, we always come together.”

“Yeah, weird,” you agree. But he had no idea just how strange it was.

The mention of your mutual friend gets you thinking, though. You have no idea how Steve felt or if what they said was true, but you knew what was going on in your heart and your mind—and it was enough to alarm the people closest to you.

For the sake of the whole group, maybe it would be a good idea to just clear the air.

“Steve?” When he looks at you, you avert your gaze, focusing instead on the hanging wine glasses above the bar.  “What are you doing after this?”

“Hanging out with you.” The delivery was smooth, easy. But panic set in as he sat on the words, unease seeping through at the idea that you weren’t asking because you wanted to get together. “You, uh, know if that was like.. what you meant.”

It definitely was. “Come by my place after closing?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

—

When you pull up outside your apartment hours later, Steve is already there, leaning against his car, waiting for you. You take a moment just to enjoy the sight—he looked like he belonged there, outside your home—before throwing your car in park and getting out.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” You suggest. “It’s late.”

You lead the way up rickety stairs, past long dead plants you’d since abandoned, and to your front door. It certainly wasn’t Steve’s first time at your place, but you couldn’t help it—you were nervous, unready for the conversation you were going to have to initiate. 

You look around for a moment, hoping for a distraction, one that would never come, you nod towards the living room. “We should sit.”

It’s a suggestion, but one Steve eagerly takes. As if it’s not your own home, he places his hand on your back, urging you forward until you’re both on the couch, almost touching. 

“You’re freaking me out with how quiet you are.”

You don’t mean to. It’s the one time in your life that you don’t know what to say. Still, you try.

“I talked to Robin and Eddie earlier.”

“The gruesome twosome,” Steve mutters. “They didn’t upset you or anything, did they?” Lord knows when they got together, especially alone, they could be a lot.

Not that he was complaining. Sure, they were a handful, but so were you and Dustin and the rest of the kids. He found himself in more trouble than ever and his blood pressure had certainly risen, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. After years of shitty friends and sycophants, he considered himself lucky to have a group of people who genuinely care for him.

None of that stopped him from worrying about what they could have done, though.

“No, no, nothing like that,” you answer quickly, assuaging his concerns. “I’ve just been thinking about what they said.”

“Uh oh, what was it?”

“This is totally crazy, but they think there’s something going on with us.” You expect Steve to laugh but he doesn’t. His cheeks flush and he looks away but he doesn’t seem to find it humorous. 

“They’re too nosey for their own good.” He shaves his head. “If they made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” you assure him. “I guess I just worried about things getting weird with us or, God forbid, the group.”

“Nothing will ever make things weird with us, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“The thing is... I don’t want anything to change either.” And you really don’t. “I, uh, I really like whatever we’re doing. Maybe too much?” It comes out like a question but it isn’t—it’s just the truth.

“I do too.”

There’s electricity in the air, a good tension.

“I always have,” Steve adds, emboldened by the disclosure. “I know we—I— joked around a lot but I think there always was some truth there.” He reaches over, grabbing ahold of your hand. “Then that night with my parents... which really was a favor, by the way. I didn’t have any gross ulterior motive.”

You squeeze his hand, not needing the assurance. You didn’t know a better human being; there was never a doubt about his intentions. “I know, Steve.”

“It was kinda the same, you know? You were still ridiculously pretty and I got to call you all those cutesy little names you love to hate. But it also felt serious. Like, it wasn’t real but it felt like it was.”

“I get what you mean,” you agree. “It just felt natural. I didn’t really want it to end.” 

“What if it didn’t have to?” Steve pauses for a moment, considering his words. “What if we tried it for real this time?”

You smile—big, bright, genuine—and Steve’s brain practically short circuits. “Are you asking me on an actual date?”

“I sure am.”

You can’t help yourself, the confirmation makes you giggle. He looks alarmed and you cover your face. “Hey,” he says, hands gently wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hands back down. “What’s so funny?”

“Robin is going to hate this.”

That gets him to laugh too. “God, you’re right. Especially when we tell her it’s all her fault.” 

“If only she kept her mouth shut,” you agree, your shoulder bumping against his.

“But thank God she didn’t.” Steve wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I might have to send her a fruit basket or something.”

—