#before you can even unlock the romance route with her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

philtstone · 1 year

Note

Arunmozhi & Nandini smile

after 2 months of being too mentally exhausted to write anything i produce this in 3 days .... sometimes i impress even myself if the words "modern road trip fix it au" make sense all together in a sentence, that's what this is. sorry 2 all the mutuals who have not watched six hours of convoluted 10th century south indian soap opera historical epic tragic romance adventure story. but also you should do that, so we can all adopt new and delightfully insane blorbos together. also: this is not meant to be serious. which means the geography is a mess. apologies in advance.

“… so what is it? Two rooms or three? I can’t keep asking this front desk idiot questions, his little head will explode from all the brain power needed to answer.”

Arunmozhi wishes he hadn’t misplaced his favourite bucket hat back in Kodaikkarai. The sun is hot and directly on his head, which makes it harder to focus on the dual task of listening to the person on the phone, and keeping track of the debacle that has developed by the Pazhaiyarai route gas station bathroom, the door of which Kundavai is still attempting to lecture through.

“Well,” he says. “You’ll have to give me a minute to think about it. Something of a situation has developed.”

He has known Poonguzhali for just long enough that he can tell by the sound of her breathing how she feels about something. Now, for example, it comes across as distinctly suspicious across the mobile connection.

“Why do I get the feeling this was an entirely predictable situation,” she says.

Arunmozhi admits this might be true, though not aloud.

“The rooms, Madam Detective.”

“Look, it’s either one room with two beds or two rooms with one bed each. Idiots! You’d think they’d have three rooms available! No one but us wants to stay in this dump, I bet. Only a man such as this one would think so highly of himself to presume he had clientele.”

There is the faint sound of an older male voice protesting over the line.

“Even we don’t want to stay in this dump,” says Arunmozhi pleasantly, at the same time Poonguzhali deems it fit to remind him in a declarative voice, “I’m a private investigator, you know, not a miracle worker!“

He’s waylaid in coming up with a fun and possibly clever response because Kundavai has reached such a point of despair in her lecturing that she turns away from the locked bathroom door, pins her flashing eyes on Arunmozhi, and says,

“Tell your idiot brother to unlock the bloody door!”

Arunmozhi grimaces. Aditha is only ever his idiot brother when circumstances are truly clownish. Most of the rest of the time Kundavai is content enough to claim ownership of the both of them, no matter how useless she thinks they are being.

“Here,” he mutters sheepishly into the phone. “Talk to Vandiyadevan for a moment, I’ve got to deal with something.”

He hands over the phone to Vandiyadevan before either party can protest.

Then he surveys The Situation.

They are at a gas station on the road to Thanjavur, one of those with nothing but the gas and a little snack stand and yellow dust masquerading as the road. There are clucking chickens in front of the snack stand, and also occupying the poorly-tiled bathroom roof. The flies are terrible. Arunmozhi arrived this morning, traveling North from South, via Poonghuzali’s van — he had met her fortuitously while exploring the coast, and thought they could only benefit from the assistance of a private investigator whose own aunt he was trying to locate — and with a motorcycle in tow. It is he who orchestrated the rendezvous. Kundavai had been up due North to fetch their eldest sibling, and is now here in her rental, acquired because driving Aditha’s sports car down towards Lanka would be the opposite of inconspicuous. The rental is already a filthy disaster. In theory this should help them in their incognito quest, but Arunmozhi is willing to acknowledge that what he had originally supposed would be a hiccupless development in the journey might instead be putting their multipurpose attempt to save the family business and uncover the truth wholly at risk. At this point, dirty rental cars are neither here nor there.

In the quest, at the very least, they are all united: understanding the truth about their entangled pasts seems somehow significant to thwarting the various family members now vying for a slice of the proverbial Chola Incorporated throne, to say nothing of the lurking specter of their father’s old political rival, who seems to be in dire enough financial straits that he has been setting up easily traceable Zoom meetings with Chola Inc secretaries who are bored enough to be looking for drama.

Considering the circumstances, Arunmozhi is comforted by the idea that they have discovered a capable ally. The problem is, it won’t amount to much if they never leave this gas station.

He strokes his beard a little, the way their father sometimes does, and once again wishes for his trusty bucket hat. It is, of course, very practical — this is what he tells Kundavai every time she protests it — but he also thinks it is a brilliant piece of fashion. He’d much rather look like the normal hip youths than dress up fancily in the stuffy attire of an ailing business mogul’s son.

The business in question currently being in the throes of potential jeopardy. And there is all this sticky secretive stuff of past love affairs. Arunmozhi is convinced it will all come together somehow, if only they probe a little. He has really made great strides, armed with his Regular University Student’s attire (the bucket hat) and canvas backpack, a simple nobody traveling around to find himself after finishing his degree. All one has to do is consider The Situation in front of them, to see the clear fruits of his labour.

But, ah: The Situation.

It is, he supposes, his fault. He sighs and refocuses.

The bathroom is more of an outhouse, really, with only one functional capability (its locking door), and it is within this vestibule that Aditha, about fifteen minutes ago now, had dramatically locked himself. In front of the bathroom door stands their brilliant sister, her perfect bun starting to undo and frizz, her expensive t-shirt (Kundavai cannot help but look expensive, even when she is trying very hard not to) developing sweaty stains under the armpits, and her aristocratic chin inching higher and higher in consternation. Behind her, naturally to Arunmozhi’s side, is Aditha’s old university friend — Arunmozhi’s current best friend — Vandiyadevan. He wears an old Vanar Men’s Cricket jersey and sandals, and is unsuccessfully ignoring Poonguzhali, who has started in her favorite pastime of bickering with him over the phone loudly enough that the sound carries. He’s wisely chosen to remain silent about The Situation so far; even with his clever tongue he’d surely only make things worse. In between swapping insults with their intrepid PI, Vandiyadevan keeps peering with concern at the bathroom door, fiddling with the tangled fake beard he had used to sneak into the Thenupuriswarar temple that morning (it is still adorning his handsome face), and gazing mournfully at the passing cars and buses, as if the necessary choice to leave his ornery Tata Nano behind when they crossed the river is truly haunting him.

And, in the middle of them all, perched against the seat of her motorcycle and with her arms very tightly crossed, is Nandini.

When Arunmozhi ran into her in the Periodicals section of that Sri Lankan library, desperately clutching the same fading birth announcements column he had been looking for, she had appeared – he’d thought, not uncharitably – in true mental distress. Things could not possibly be more different now.

Unlike Kundavai, Nandini remains perfectly coiffed after multiple hours of travel in the heat and dust. Her braid is sleek and glossy, her jewelry sparkles, the delicate material of her floral dress flutters genteelly in the nonexistent wind, and every manicured fingernail — now beginning to tap impatiently against her arm — displays nothing but absolute composure. She wears dainty gold bangles on her wrists and a thick oversized motorcycle jacket that must be sweltering in the heat, and has her luminous face turned lazily in the opposite direction as the outhouse. One of the chickens clucks at her feet, rooting around for worms.

Indeed, since they arrived, Nandini has been so very good at feigning indifference that even Arunmozhi could believe her utterly unaffected. It’s only now that, after a full fifteen minutes of locked bathroom door, he can see her expression become less and less dignified and — perhaps to the detriment of the collective — more and more irate.

Hm.

Arunmozhi knocks on the bathroom door with a bit more haste than originally planned.

“Go away!” comes the expected growl from within. “Won’t you let a man shit in peace?”

He has to hand it to his brother: it has the expected reaction. Kundavai puts her face into her hands and Nandini cracks just enough to roll her eyes before determinedly reverting to lofty silence. Vandiyadevan, of course, wisely smothers his snort of laughter behind a cough; he’s taken to holding the phone an arm’s length away from his ear, while Poonghuzali, true to form, has now started interrogating the motel owner about tax breaks on the other end of the line.

Diplomatically, Vandiyadevan says, “Well, if he really does just need a minute …”

“Please,” says Kundavai, “Please, come out of the toilet. For once in your life, be normal about this.”

“I’m being very normal,” says the voice of Aditha. “I am meditating on the mysteries of life. It will take me a while, so I will stay here for now, and then meet you all again in Thanjavur later.”

“You’re being a coward!” says Kundavai.

“Oof,” Vandiyadevan winces.

“Vandiyadevan,” says Kundavai, as close to pleading as she will ever get, “you talk to him. You’re good with words. Here, I’ll take the phone.”

Vandiyadevan, who as usual seems to lose some of his easy suavity whenever Kundavai turns the full force of her general presence on him, manages to say, “I got my degree in journalism, not politics. My charms only work on the ladies.”

This is more than enough to unite the warring factions of the group; Kundavai, Nandini, and the tinny mobile voice of Poonguzhali all scoff loudly and in harmony. Even Aditha seems to make a mild noise of amusement, though that could just as well have been the harangued motel owner on Poonguzhali’s end of the line, so muffled is the sound.

“Useless then. Aditha, I’ll knock down the door with our terrible rental car.”

“Don’t do that; you’ll owe the insurance man. Look here, Kundavai, didn’t your illustrious cards say anything about this?”

“I am not in the mood to be teased, Mr. Journalist. Your beard is melting, by the way.”

“Will it really be that bad if you came out, eh?” asks Vandiyadevan, concerned for both Kundavai’s nerves and his handy accessory. He frowns as Poonghuzali says something over the phone. “Oh — the lummox wants to know whether we’re planning on renting any rooms at all. Ayyo, no, I meant the desk clerk —!”

“She clearly has you all under her thrall,” interrupts Aditha, melodramatically from behind his door, cutting through the irate exclamations emitting from the phone. “You don’t know her like I do! I don’t care what anyone says. She’s lying.”

“She hasn’t said anything yet,” growls Kundavai, still with more dignity and poise than majority of the population might have on a good day. She tosses an acid look in Nandini’s direction. Nandini glares back coolly.

“It’s all part of her plan. She’s tricking us into complacence. Or have you forgotten that the person sitting on that bike is actually a – a – a –”

Aditha seems to have run out of words.

“She-snake?” offers Vandiyadevan tentatively.

“Poisonous witch,” recites Kundavai in a tired voice.

“Demoness,” remembers Arunmozhi, “oh, that was a good one.”

Nandini, whose indifference has since fully morphed into glaring daggers at Kundavai, pauses now to hum in contemplation, like a woman good naturedly unable to deny her many titles.

Kundavai, on the other hand, has reached her wits’ end.

“Four,” she says, turning to Arunmozhi and gesturing very specifically at her hairline. “Four grey hairs. Can you see them? One, two, three, four. Dearest little brother, I hope you considered my four grey hairs when you concocted this plan. This is really it. We’re going to be stuck in this gas station forever, and our pathetic cousin will take over the family business.” She raises her voice, “Do you hear that, Aditha! And then who’ll stop that scumbag Pandian from buying out all of his shares and blowing our family’s legacy trying to create God via chatbot? The bloody thing keeps advocating for users to kill enemies of the faith! And it’ll all be your doing!”

Oof – Arunmozhi is the one who thinks it this time. As far as accusations go, that one is a little harsh. After all, it was Kundavai who meddled enough for the maligned couple to break up in the first place. Sure, Aditha then went and exposed a measure of Veera Pandian’s scumminess to the press a year later, out of spite, on Nandini’s birthday, which blew up rather spectacularly in his face. But there’s no need to be rubbing even more salt in old wounds, thinks Arunmozhi.

Giving Kundavai a look which he hopes she takes to mean Relax, I got this, Arunmozhi steps forward and knocks a second time on the bathroom door.

“I told you, I won’t be lectured into participating in treason,” comes Aditha’s muffled voice, admittedly somewhat more cowed than before. “Against me, no less. Wow.”

“It’s not Kundavai,” says Arunmozhi, “it’s me.”

A long, rather mulish moment of silence follows. “Oh.”

“Yes,” says Arunmozhi, taking this to be an opening. “Won’t you unlock the door? Vandiyadevan’s disguise beard is melting in this heat. It would be a shame to have to hold a funeral for it.”

“I don’t have any other disguise beards on hand,” agrees Vandiyadevan helpfully. “I’d have to call Nambi up for one, and then I couldn’t show my face in the office for a week.”

Arunmozhi quite likes Nambi, though he’d never tell Vandiyadevan that — they work for rival newspapers — and now wonders if perhaps involving the older, nosier man at this juncture is the right call, as Nandini seems to soften wistfully in demeanour every time his name is brought up. Then again, maybe that will complicate things further, and instead of making her more agreeable, will result in another reaction hitherto unexpected. Unwisely perhaps, nobody really believed that Aditha would take one look at his ex-girlfriend, go white as a sheet, and promptly barricade himself behind the nearest locking door.

Who knows what Nandini might do with her own version of a curveball.

“I can’t believe this is your fault,” Aditha says finally, referring to Arunmozhi but sounding like he’s talking to himself. “Of course, she’d never be able to poison you. I’m just very hurt, you know.”

Kundavai throws up her hands into the sky. Vandiyadevan pinches the bridge of his nose in two fingers. Nandini, on the other hand, once more raises her eyebrows as though contemplatively conceding Aditha’s point.

Arunmozhi sighs.

“Yes,” he says. “There is that. I am sorry, Anna. Only, don’t you want to hear what she’s got to say?”

“No,” comes the finite response. Then, more despondently, “I don’t deserve it. She’ll never forgive me. I will go back to Kanchi and continue in the only honourable profession I’ve ever had.”

“For the hundredth time,” says Kundavai, breaking her silence. “Children’s camp counsellor is not a profession. Anyone can do arts and crafts and coach football. If you got your teaching degree, maybe.”

Privately, Arunmozhi thinks Aditha is uniquely good at facilitating the diligent creation of bead bracelets amongst 5 to 10 year olds. He also gets very competitive about football in a way that inspires excellence. Observing Kundavai’s twitching eyebrow, however, Arunmozhi chooses to keep these thoughts to himself.

“I already have a business degree!” says Aditha, from within the outhouse.

“Which you refuse to put to practice!”

“This is my one use in the world, Kundavai!”

Vandiyadevan and Poonguzhali have recently given up arguing over the motel, and the former now solemnly holds the phone out microphone first so that the illustrious investigator can listen in on the proceedings. Kundavai begins lecturing again. Even the chickens seem to be clucking with exasperation rather than neutrality. It is here that Arumozhi chooses to look at Nandini. While everyone else groans at the reminder of Aditha’s derailed career trajectory, on Nandini’s face there is a sudden and even startled expression of tenderness.

It must be terribly difficult, Arunmozhi thinks, to show up to what’s become one of the more chaotic family road trips in Tamil Nadu's history, clasp one’s hands together, and say, Well, you see, I’ve only just found out that my adoptive father is my real father and he is really quite a piece of work, factually speaking, even putting aside his God-bot delusions and general tax evasion, and the only way to find my mother, who has been alive this whole time, is with your help. But she seems fully committed to it all. It is very brave of her.

More importantly – resourceful as Nandini is, Arunmozhi has no doubts that she already knew about the children’s camp, and the arts and crafts, and most definitely the football. So that tender little look cannot have been one of pure surprise.

He smiles to himself. Maybe he wasn’t so misled in his instincts after all.

“Anna,” he tells the door quietly, in a tone he knows his brother – ever his protector, defender, and supporter, ready to take him seriously even when in the throes of his own early-life crisis – will catch. “I really think if we all work together on this, we have a shot at fixing many wrongs. I really am sorry for springing this on you. Both of you – you know.” When there is no response, he adds, “Look – maybe there will be a silver lining. You keep complaining that you haven’t had anyone to play a good match of chess with in a while.”

There is another prolonged moment of quiet; Arunmozhi imagines Aditha, the mass of his long hair tied out of his face as usual, proud profile turned towards the wall, his arms probably crossed in a close mirror of Nandini’s far more delicate posture. Nandini’s own expression remains stuck on whatever momentary ache passed through her, but now morphed into a complicated middle ground, unsure of whether she wishes to remain thawed or to remember the many wounds that led them to this somewhat silly juncture.

“Alright,” comes Aditha’s sudden, gruff voice.

Vandiyadevan’s mouth drops open. Kundavai freezes still as a statue in relief. Nandini, still astride the motorcycle, straightens imperceptibly; if Arunmozhi were really looking, a faint, almost imperceptible quiver of hope passes through her brows –

“But first,” Aditha continues, “I demand she return my stolen property.”

Oh, no, Arunmozhi thinks, a split second before, in front of their despairing and disbelieving eyes, some intangible stronghold of assumed dignity snaps within Nandini’s depths.

“Stolen property?” she shrieks. The chickens scatter, clucking for their lives. An innocent farmer filling up his truck’s tank ten feet away jumps violently and covers himself in gasoline. Nandini’s beautiful face has gone the colour of chalk. “Stolen property?!”

“Yes! It is mine, and you are wearing it!”

“You gifted me this jacket, you absolute jackass!”

“Well, I am ungifting it!” yells Aditha, through the door. “Give it back!”

“I’ll kill him!” Nandini howls, springing to her feet. Her eyes shimmer with a sort of impotent rage. It’s not quite clear who she is talking to – the collective, perhaps, or the divine, or even her own self – “Do you hear me?! Your death will be at my hands, Karikalan!”

“So do it then!” comes the equally theatrical roar from the outhouse’s depths. “FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!”

“YOU JUST TRY TO TAKE MY JACKET BACK YOURSELF, YOU GUTLESS WORM –”

As everyone scrambles to prevent physical violence (Vandiyadevan has the wherewithal to yell for Poonghuzali-on-the-phone to go ahead and book the one room, as they’ll probably all be dead before the sun sets anyway), Arunmozhi reconsiders his intuition.

… Perhaps making this work will be a little bit harder than he thought.

Rubbing a hand over his overheated head, he steps into the fray.

#my writing #ponniyin selvan #arunmozhi varman #aditha karikalan #nandini #vandiyadevan #kundavai #poonghuzali #aditha x nandini #vandiyadevan x kundavai #i wanted to include some lines about vanathi but there simply was not a good opening :(#but we do stan an anxious constantly fainting queen

34 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 10 months

Text

Looking at the patch notes for patch 5! This is the first set of patch notes I've actively paid attention to and man, it's fucking huge!

Honestly, reading through this, I am just mind-boggled all over again about the scale and ambition of this game. Obviously there were (and probably still are) quite a few bugs, unexpected interactions, etc., but Larian have worked their fucking tails off to make a fully functional automated D&D combat system and a story that has a monumental amount of potential variables, and speaking as a programmer it makes my head hurt just thinking about all of the moving parts that must be involved in making this work.

And they seem to be blasting through fixes at an incredible rate too. This is a good development team who seem to have a brilliant combination of technical know-how, good humor, community-mindedness, and passion for their source material, and I'm incredibly impressed even in the short amount of time that I've been playing the game so far.

Obviously I already knew about the addition of the epilogues, which it sounds like makes the ending much more satisfying overall, but some other things that stuck out to me:

"While at camp, you can now access and manage the inventories of companions who aren't in your active party." Yesssss; this has been one of the more annoying aspects of the game up to this point.

"You can now sell and barter items inside containers when trading." This will simplify things for me given I have a System involving Karlach and Shadowheart each carrying a Bag Of Crap to sell.

"Improved grouping and sorting of items in containers while trading." Please tell me this means all the dyes will finally be grouped together when I try to buy them for hoarding.

"A romanced Minthara can now refer to her bond with you using a drow word for deep, unbreakable love." Minthara is probably coming a good deal later in priority on my playthroughs but this is cute.

"Withers will sneakily resurrect any dead companions that fell before the final battle so they can join the ending cinematics. What a helpful skeleton." Good job, Withers.

"The loading screen art now unlocks gradually as you progress through the game." That's a neat touch.

"Fixed occasional T-poses and frozen animations related to the Incapacitated condition." No more T-posing drunk goblins!

"Fixed the combat UI not automatically skipping to the next available party member after a controlled character dies." I think this was why Hector's whole party almost died to the Selune lasers. XD

"Two new play modes: Honour Mode and Custom Mode." No idea what that implies at all but I'm intrigued. More content!

"Improved Astarion's Ascendant route at-will gnome kiss for masculine body types." This is not relevant to any playthrough I'm currently doing but just reinforces what I was talking about above, regarding the incredible number of variables this game juggles (for the most part super successfully).

Also quite a lot of updates that just made me laugh:

"Boo will no longer take damage when thrown."

"When players start a combat inside the Elfsong Tavern, all the patrons will now cower instead of continuing to drink."

"You can no longer use the awesome force of bombs to flip the switch behind the final door in the Gauntlet of Shar to force the door to open."

"You can no longer loot the entire inventory of unconscious traders - instead you have access to a limited selection, as with dead traders. Nice try, pacifists."

"Added the intensely satisfying 'Ahhh' sound for players who Short Rest using a keybind rather than a UI button."

"Shar is now aware of Shadowheart's actions even if she is using Disguise Self."

"Using the lift in the House of Healing when in Turn-Based Mode no longer causes it to loop between floors indefinitely upon exiting Turn-Based Mode."

"Fixed a rare bug where Halsin would decide to turn into a bear whenever you went to talk to him at camp in the Shadow-Cursed Lands."

"If Wyll somehow managed to avoid Mizora's punishment for keeping Karlach alive, he'll be punished retroactively."

"Fixed Astarion accidentally telling the Dark Urge's future."

"Astarion no longer asks the Dark Urge about killing Isobel even if they didn't."

"You no longer comment on Mol if you haven't met her before."

"Locke no longer blames Zevlor for his death if Zevlor died in Act I."

"Fixed several instances of sleeping goblins waking up wanting a chat when they should have been hostile."

"Halsin will no longer forget about saving Thaniel if you travel back to Act I while he's waiting at the lakeside. Focus, Halsin."

"Players who arrive to the Ketheric showdown shape-shifted will have to face him person-to-person, not apostle-to-badger."

"If Isobel is thrown off her balcony, she'll make more of an effort to get back upstairs again."

"Fixed some beggars in the Brampton District facing the wrong way when asking for coin."

"Dame Aylin no longer waits ten days to bring up the time she killed Ketheric Thorm."

"We have convinced Shadowheart not to join the final nautiloid combat if she is already dead."

"Umberlee's worshippers are now considerably more security-conscious about the donations in the Water Queen's House. "

"Fixed a state where the Chamber of Insight trial could be both succeeded and failed."

"Apprentice Laridda will no longer assume you to be the bearer of bad (break-up) news if you didn't bring her the break-up message."

"Ravengard should now use the correct pronouns when addressing you during the ceremony in Wyrm's Rock."

"Karlach no longer thinks she's left the Hells when you explore the rocky outcrop near Hope's prison."

"Added a profanity filter for custom map markers. You'll have to find more creative ways to label the kennel master."

"Splitting a green dye stack in the Traveller's Chest at camp will no longer change the dye's rarity from Uncommon to Very Rare."

"The hanging cages in Cazador's dungeon will no longer tell you they're safe to step on, only to drop you to your death in the chasm below."

"Fixed Mirkon sometimes cowering in fairly deep water when you talk to him while he's running away from the harpies."

"Improved Cazador's home security by locking a chest and a door."

"Locked one of the Caza-doors."

"Fixed padded armour sometimes appearing as underwear on bigger body types. "

"A dead fisherman on the beach will no longer hint that you can find Shadowheart just ahead if you are, in fact, Shadowheart."

"Minthara's haughty stare will now correctly look at players she's talking to towards the end of the game. "

V excited to continue my playthrough, even more than I was already. Feels like we're in good hands. :)

#bjk talks #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #larian studios #i always enjoy reading patch notes #especially for games i am this enthused about :D

10 notes · View notes

shiawase-rina · 10 months

Text

I wrote my currently impressions of Virche Evermore on r/vns and thought why not post it here as well?

Vage spoilers under the cut!

I played a lot of [Virche Evermore](https://vndb.org/v29661/chars) the past few weeks!

Virche Evermore is a dark scifi Otome Game which was well known for making players suffer through 4+ entire routes full of tragic endings until you get the chance to unlock better endings for everyone. The better endings might still not be really happy tho.

A sizeable trigger warning list made the rounds long before the game came out in english and the some reviews would called the game misery or torture porn.

I really like tragedies so I had to get the game, but I kept my expecations in check. Misery can come in many forms and there were tragic endings I absolutely hated before (Piofiore Orlock's tragic end made me skip a route).

I finished 4 routes now (only Despair endings) and I can confidently say that this game GETS me. It fits my taste for misery and fucked up-ness perfectly and I'm so happy.

The only downside in that this game has some true bullshit science lol

My biology university degree certainly made a face at some relevations. So uh I just pretend it's more plausible stuff instead. Just forget all your biology knowledge at the door and you're fine...

Some thoughts of the routes:

Mathis: Mathis is the rich, socially awkward and shy guy, who swore revenge on his brothers killer.

Def not my type of guy, but the build up in his route was very well done. So much foreshadowing which get's more and more in your face as time goes on, but it was hard to 100% point the finger to what was happening until the revealed happened. This really reminded my of Il of Café Enchante's route but like 1000% more horrifying. Despair End 2 was disgusting and horrific. It plays with your hopes and the "Power of Love" only to end in the worst possible way. It was so disgusting. I was so impressed!

Lucas: Lucas is the kindhearted teacher of Ceres who is hella feminine and is already knocking on deaths door.

I heard that his route would be the "worst" in a horrifying way with lots of bad things happening.

I think that gave me the wrong expecations after having just seen Mathis Despair End 2.

It's definitely the most unfixable route. A lot of bad things did happen, disgusting things too. But it still felt underwhelming to me compared to what I saw before. The last CG of Lucas's Despair End 2 was very delightful tho!

Some moments gave me some nice shivers as well (Lucas in a ponytail is beautiful).

Scien: The human god who created the cloning technology that made it possible for the people of this cursed island to live longer than 23 years.

Scien's route felt very different from the first two. His wasn't really focused on horrific tragedy, even though terrible, traumatising things still happened. This one had a much stronger romance focus from the start. It felt much more poetic in nature which I liked a lot as well.

"How to Ruin a God?", my beloved Ceres sure did a number on Mister Emotionless God-complex.

Absolut beautiful Despair Ending 2. Stuff like this makes me want to write poems about bringing a god down. You def need to leave your feminism at the door for this one tho lol. Scien is a trashbando who doesn't treat Ceres the way she should be treated.

Yves: The man Ceres almost killed in a fire by accident when she was a child. A very friendly guy who wears a mask to hide his burn wounds and tries to see the best in anyone.

The love interest of all love interests! If The Phantom of The Opera was a good guy but still full of madness. I liked his relationship with Ceres the most. It's so wholesome, raw and selfish. So much longing and self-hatred! They are obsessed with each other. They were made for each other. I support Ceres's right to be insane. I support all her wrongs. She deserves it.

His Despair End 2 was if Power of Love lacked any plotarmor and insanity was the only thing that remained. Loved it.

Next up! Le Salut! I can't wait for more Watchmen of the Dead Ankou!

#virche evermore #shuuen no virche #otome game #otome games #visual novel

5 notes · View notes

the12thnightproject · 2 years

Text

Initial thoughts... Birushana

Just a couple chapters in, and I'm really enjoying this one. The artwork is gorgeous, the LIs are fascinating and distinct, and the story is action packed (but fairly easy to follow, and so far, no plot holes). There are five official LIs, but apparently you can unlock and romance some of the side characters too (I haven't gotten there yet, but it's a nice perk) in short stories.

MC (Shanao) is great (I didn't even want to change her name this time around), she's an amazing fighter, but also a thinker who really considers the role that has be thrust upon her (the savior of her clan). And I've probably mentioned before that girl-disguised-as-a-boy is one of my favorite tropes.

Aside, I want to figure out how to program all of my devices with Umehara Yuuichirou's voice.

I'll do a more complete review when I've read all the routes, but I just lost three hours this evening reading the initial routes.

youtube

#otome games #initial thoughts #mini review #birushana senki #birushana: rising flower of genpei #Youtube

11 notes · View notes

thesugarhole · 1 year

Text

i'm thinking about a certain christophorus pi hatchenson and all that wasted potential because the website burned and the rewrite is on hiatus for other stuff "set in the same world", but i don't care about that and EVEN before that the thrown out potential with how his arc was going in favor of. what? i don't even know and i can't trust my memory to know. boobs? last time i saw him on the website version of the webcomic my poor guy was done for. he was decapitated and his head was just a skull by then but man.jpg i want him carnally.

it doesn't work if i announce my gaslighting intentions before gaslighting proper but if you see me talking about romac from now on its not about the webcomic. its about the excruciatingly obtuse dating sim where you control snippy and i'm trying so so hard to get into pilots pants but you start with max negative affinity (for reasons both real, imagined and misunderstood) and also he's in love with captain so overturning all that? WITH the major boss battle you have AGAINST pilot (when he reconnects to annet 😔) that finally gets him to warm up to you?? this is brutal. this game is brutal. the timer limit too since marrying cancer and letting them fuse your body to your clothes is mandatory. how do i unlock the sloppy wild gay android sex cgs. come on man

(edit to add more to the previous concept because i thought it was funny)

i'll go some steps further; the captain route would be most enticing as a first run because zee's mysterious and whimsical and nutty and etc. but also the main road blocks of it would be lore dumps through riddles that a first time player would simply not understand. endgame after you get everything from everyone else and cross question them and get their endings etc (the dating sim is meta connected but in a way only captain and maybe annet can control. you fumble through it) you are zirs best and prettiest little minion and you lost your mind by then trying to comprehend the cosmic horrors (and beauties) behind zirs mask and are ok with it. pilot hates you so so much though. aoorfjaosoaka

next to captains route, pilots route would also be lore-through-riddle heavy, but it would be somewhat easier to understand if you gave him a chance and didn't immediately write him off as equally/more insane as captain. getting him to talk about specific lore in a specific way that makes snippy (and you) understand is a herculean task though

in terms of attractiveness of first runs, next to pilot is engie, who joins late, is beyond terrified of your presence (despite you honest to god being just some goober. a brit. a bife, a camone) (for reasons only he himself is guilty of also) and knows way more than hes letting on. and, mad scientist rants aside, would probably... eventually... be straightfoward with you about the lore. of course, he wont tell you everything on a first run, you have to squeeze that fateful 'i was ordered to kill you by one of annets engineers' out of pilot then come back to engie to get the full tea spill (i am trying to romance my ex boss?!)

cancer has a 'hidden in plain sight' route since you unlock them earlier than engie and have no choice but to marry them. similar in concept to captain where you have to let go of your sanity and let them monopolize your time and affection. its like if a catgirl yandere was a hivemind alien lawyer.

annet is not romanceable in any way. engie is her one true love. any attempts will devolve into her manipulating you into death one way or another. #girlboss

mug/zero, stalky, kittyhawk, photoshop, amber, lifealope, random coworker that made you drop your sandwich, tourists, whoever else also not romanceable. because i said so. no. denied. no questions

#the internet: romac is a comedy webcomic about a guy making friends in the apocalypse #me: romac is a dating sim and baby? I'm proving 'i wouldnt date you if you were the last man on earth' saying SO true right now #it would be so funny but maybe not as charming if its an either or situation where if this existed the webcomic doesnt. both could be real #and counter each others flaws #reading romac #took this out the romac tags bc of misremembering some stuff

4 notes · View notes

rcseadorned · 29 days

Text

Name: Sofia Marie Coel Nickname(s): Sofie, Sof Relationship Status: Single Gender: Cis female Romantic Orientation: Straight Preferred Pet Names: Darling, Love, My liege. Mrs. [Last Name] ('You may only call me "Mrs. [Last Name]"... when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy.) Opinion on True Love: A concept an idea wonderful when written on paper but does she believe it exists?? At one point she did, now she's not so sure. Opinion on Love at First Sight: Considering she can't see, she puts this to the test constantly. Looks definitely do help with the whole feeling attraction thing but for her it's all in the personality. How ‘Romantic’ Are They?: Very, but in a reserved way. She loves all the languages both giving and receiving. Ideal Physical Traits: waves hand in front of face this girl can and would fall for Quasimodo from the movie. Not overly toned, can be considered 'soft', strong arms, slender build, can be taller or shorter. Ideal Personality Traits: Caring, empathetic, considerate, respectful, honest. Generally not being a douche-canoe. Would not fall for Gaston. Unattractive Physical Traits: Overly buff/masculine (like body builder type chiseled EAT A SANDWICH), unhygienic, animalistic/mean face. Unattractive Personality Traits: Selfishness, dishonesty, laziness, abusiveness ( towards people or animals), aggressive behavior, rude, unable to talk out issues, no manners, being shallow. Ideal Date: Five star Micheline restaurant jk. Coffee dates never go wrong, walking in the park dates, a drive through somewhere scenic, going somewhere to watch the sunset, picnic in the park, a fun hobby like a pottery class or painting and wine. Staying at home to watch a movie under a mountain of blankets?? Do They Have a Type?: Yes. ( don't ask me what it is cause i don't even know.) Average Relationship Length: She's been with one person before and it was like almost two years before they broke up. Hasn't dated since. Preferred Non-Sexual Intimacy: Cuddling, snuggling, holding hands, back hugs, resting head in lap and talking about things, hair brushing, dancing to soft music in the kitchen at 2 am, sharing funny videos or stories (like funny reddit posts or something), being each others hype-person no matter the cause ( YES GOING OUT TO JUST GET THE MAIL LETS GOO), taking unintentional naps-- Commitment Level: High? Yes? Ride or Die once her romance route is unlocked. Opinion of Public Affection: Before the Event(TM)? Loved hand holding or linking arms, seeing other cute couples was adorable. After the Event(TM)? GET.A.ROOM. Past Relationships?: She's dated one man before. To the point they were engaged, she was ready to be a 'Trad-wife', stay at home wife, you name it, she was ready to be it 100%. Then.. nothing. One morning things were just different, something had disappeared. They became distant and eventually broke up, she blames herself, something must be wrong with her.

tagged by:// @inhcritance tagging:// who ever sees this it's too late if you're reading this it's for you.

#;; dash games #;; marvel verse #feverishly googling every question to make sure i'm understanding it right #and now im singing 'love fell out with me' from R&H's cinderella

1 note · View note

night-market-if · 3 years

Text

Book Two

Wip link

Book two is actively being written. Read it chapter by chapter here

Book One Links:

Free Demo 🌿Steam🌿Itch.io🌿

Other Content

Patreon 🌿Discord🌿FAQS

Welcome to the Night Market! Book One is already complete and up for sale. Book two is well underway.

The Night Market is an interactive novel in which you awaken to a lantern filled world with no memory of how you got there. Desperate to get home, you must find the gate that leads back to your world, while navigating a foreign land, rife with political intrigue, arbitrary rules and secrets designed to keep you distracted. Nine barons rule the market , a place so vast that not even they can truly know its scope. But, one baron holds the key to your safe return home. Yet, no one has seen or heard from him in over a decade.

A rakish sort with an easy smile and a penchant for adventure. He is seen frequenting taverns and can generally be found where life is in full swing. Local thief and all around charming individual that upon meeting you has taken a special interest in your plight. Though he seems to be able to offer very little in the way of solutions, he is all too happy to stand by your side as you carve your way in this world.

Can be romanced as a triad poly or a v poly.

Owner of Hazel’s Apothecary and a grey lump of a cat named Mr. Billows. Considered the local ‘bog witch’, she has been secluded away to her own sector within the market. Known for her tonics and herbal remedies, Hazel is viewed as a pariah. A woman who will curse you on sight and whose shop hands have all gone mysteriously missing over the years. Though, upon meeting her, she seems sweet and eager to help you find your way home.

Can be romanced only in a singular romance.

Guard Captain of the docks, a local penitentiary for the wrong doers of the Night Market, and the warden of the holding cells you are placed in upon arriving. A stern and straight forward man with little emotion other than to be weary of the events of his day. Gabriel arrived in the Night Market only a decade prior, but refuses to speak of where he hailed from before. Overall, he is a shut-down and bitter man, scorned by what the world has given him thus far.

Can be romanced in a triad poly or in a singular romance

A courtesan of the pleasure district and a sought after political force. A stunning beauty, educated and refined, who unwittingly has her hands in most of the affairs and secrets of the market proper. A beguiling woman who will be whoever she needs to for the right price. Everyone claims to know her, and yet no one can tell you a truthful detail about her. It is said she almost gave it all away for the man she loved, yet when asked, she only bats her lashes and smiles, claiming to have loved far too many to even know who you are referring to.

Can be romanced in a triad poly or a singular romance.

Features

The game is meant for 18 and old due to sexual content and violence

Explore the in depth world of the Night Market and unlock the secrets of the nexus.

Play as male, female, or non-binary

Six different romance routes. Three individual and the choice of a v or a triad poly. More to potentially be added in the future as the story progresses.

A story that is heavily driven by who you choose to befriend or fall in love with, focusing intently on interpersonal relationships.

Please note that not all romances are what they seem.

Customize your MC’s appearance and personality

Make in depth, moral decisions that will vastly change the course of your game, unlocking new areas based on chosen conversation trees.

#the night market #interactive fiction #if fic #twine fic #choose your own adventure #romance #adventure #mystery #heartbreak

2K notes · View notes

viperbarnes · 3 years

Text

The Tie That Binds – [Three of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta’d so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

You’ve just stepped out of the grocery store when you’re half-barrelled into by something big and solid. Instead of falling, like you expect, when the moment passes, you realise not only are you standing upright, but that your arms have been relieved of the two heavy paper bags you’d previously held.

It takes you second to fully process the situation, but when you do, you find yourself blinking up at the smug face of Bucky Barnes, your load now tucked easily under his arm, looking a whole lot smaller than when you’d struggled to pick them up.

“Wha– I thought you were away?!” You let yourself gasp in belated surprise, resting a hand over your heart momentarily. He wears sunglasses, which you find odd considering it wasn’t exactly bright out, but you’re still a little too taken aback by his sudden appearance to really make note of it.

“And miss our shopping trip?” He asks, voice filled with mock horror.

“You can’t shake me off that easy. I stick.” The smugness melts from his features, replaced by something softer as you shake your head at him, beginning to walk.

Almost a whole month and a half of these regular, strange meetings, and the two of you had fallen into something that felt a lot like friendship, but crucially, wasn’t quite. Usually he’d help you with your groceries, sometimes you’d corner him at a cafe and seemingly quiz him on aspects of HYDRA and your capture. It was… comfortable, and you hated to admit it, but you’d sorely missed actual human interaction.

Bucky moves to walk beside you on the footpath, and you eye him. You understand why he wears sunglasses now, at this angle you could clearly see the large purple and black bruise around the ring of his eye, and when you take a closer, less subtle look at his clothing, you realise he’d simply thrown on his heavy winter coat over top of what looked like a blue motorcycle jacket.

“You know I would have been just fine if you had somewhere else to be…” You venture, shifting your eyes away from him as you speak. Bucky glances down at you, and then at his attire.

“Just got back.” He says shortly, though you’ve come to know that was just his way sometimes.

“Most people might go take a shower… get some sleep… not go help some lady with her shopping.” You muse.

The slight smugness returns to his face and his gait and he swings his head to look down at you with a corny grin, only added to by the shades.

“Most people aren’t me.” He tells you cockily, leaning down slightly to emphasise this. He leans back again moments later, as if considering you, and you squirm a little under his gaze.

“Besides, I think you like having someone do the heavy liftin’.” It’s still part of his act, something halfway between a shadow of himself from a different time, and a romance lead perhaps.

You noticed he fell back on humour, on sarcasm or this faux personality whenever he felt like his true response wouldn’t be acceptable. Maybe most people wouldn’t notice the shifts so clearly, but you do. You did the same thing any time you had to interact with another human being.

Still, the way it makes butterflies appear in your chest sends you off kilter every time, not just because it was him, but because it had been a solid amount of time since anybody spoke to you or flirted with you like you were a halfway decent option. Especially someone who looked like Bucky.

You weren’t blind, you’d recognised his objective attractiveness long ago, somewhere in a dimly lit room, where tracing his jawline was a distraction from whatever else.

But it was different now. He wasn’t just the tragically beautiful assassin you were forced to work on, he was… Bucky.

An almost friend.

Bucky.

You scoff at his display, and at any fleeting notion that he’d even really look at you twice, and shake your head.

“I can’t say it doesn’t help on the days my hands shake too much… Lost one too many cartons of eggs to that.” You chortle at your own past predicament.

You miss the way Bucky’s smile falters, and his shoulders drop, and he forces himself to look away from you for several seconds.

“Where were you, anyway?” You ask, changing the subject as you come to a set of lights. Bucky shifts your groceries to his other arm and cocks his head at you.

“I’m pretty sure our deal was that I answer questions about what I used to do. Didn’t think my current shenanigans were on the table…?” You see an eyebrow rise above the lens of the glasses, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. I didn’t want to hear about your sidekick stuff anyway.” You turn away from him slightly only for him to step into your view again.

“Sidekick? You call me a sidekick?” Bucky sounds almost genuinely offended, and you scoff, leaving him trailing behind you when the walking light turns green and you make for the other side of the street.

“Please, you’re basically a professional sidekick.” You can’t keep the grin from your lips now as Bucky hurries to catch up with you, his brow now in a deep set frown.

“That’s unkind. That’s hurtful.” He tells you, truly, honestly pouting.

“I’ll have you know my sidekick stuff is extremely interesting.” He continues, sticking his nose up a little now. You shrug.

“Probably, but you didn’t wanna tell me about it so…” You spin to face him as you speak, stopping on your apartment buildings stoop.

Bucky still pouts as you blindly buzz yourself in, taking towards the stairs right away. Bucky follows, and you realise a little too late that he never usually came inside with you. He’d usually hand over your things at the door. Truthfully, as dismissive as you were being, you were actually rather glad he’d shown up, and you weren’t quite ready yet to part ways.

The rest of the climb to your floor is filled with Bucky huffing about how cool his job was, and you internally wondering if it was too weird to invite him inside. Your fear of the man had all but evaporated, despite the frequent dreams you’d been having, but you wonder if letting him into your home would change that.

Your apartment was your sanctuary. You had escape routes mapped just in case, you’d organised your things so that there was always some kind of makeshift weapon available to you in every room… considering these plans were made with his last break-in in mind, you’re not sure how your subconscious might react to having him physically within your space again.

You act as natural as possible, and when you do reach your door, you force yourself to steady your hand as you unlock it. Bucky had stopped even his playful whining, and you know he isn’t ignorant to the current situation.

Stepping inside, you hold your door open with your hip and casually jerk your head in the direction of your kitchen.

“That can just go on the counter.” You say, cursing the slight shake in your words. You continue ahead of him quickly, even as you hear your door close shut behind you, depositing your purse and coat on the sofa.

Bucky does as you say, and you turn in time to see him step back from the countertop, his eyes darting around the space quickly.

A different kind of anxiety rolls over you then, and you regret having not tidied up a little before inviting him inside.

“It’s a little messy…” You apologise, sweeping some dust from the nearest surface and scrunching your nose. Bucky blinks at you and frowns, opening his mouth, but you accidentally cut him off as another thought hits you.

“And I’m sorry about the cold… The window keeps breaking.” You gesture to the main window in your living space, rolling your eyes a little.

Bucky’s face morphs into a frown as he looks past you to the window in question, a plastic bag duct taped over a portion.

“Your windows broken?” He asks, concern filling his voice.

“It keeps happening. My landlord employs the cheapest handyman in the city, I swear to god…” You roll your eyes again and try to brush it off with a laugh, but Bucky’s face doesn’t change, even as he looks back to you.

“It’s the middle of winter.” He states, and then before you can reply, he straightens, his frown of displeasure shifting into one of determination.

“I’ll fix it.”

---

Bucky replays the clips on his phone one last time, making sure he properly understood the instruction, before he moves to copy it.

A short trip to the hardware store later, he’s back in your apartment, sat awkwardly on your windowpane as he finishes up replacing the lower piece of glass. He’d made sure the piece he’d bought was hardy, and unlikely to cause you future problems. He can’t imagine how cold it would have gotten in your place with a broken window, and tries not to scowl.

You linger nearby, having put your groceries away and offered him coffee, you now sit on your couch pretending that you weren’t watching him.

He doesn’t blame you for eyeing him just as nervously as you had on his first few visits with you. Seeing each other out and about was one thing, but he doesn’t underestimate the amount of trust you were showing in allowing him into your home. Hell, he doesn’t even think he’d be extending such liberties if he were you.

But he’s glad for it, if not only for selfish reasons.

It was easy for Bucky to pretend he didn’t know your status to one another. He’d ignored the little black mark long enough, ignored the urge to seek you out (before he knew you were you) so it really wasn’t that different for him. The only problem, and it wasn’t really a problem just yet, was that Bucky liked you.

He liked your jokes and your sass, he liked the way your expressions spoke louder than your words ever could, and how you didn’t even seem to realise you were making them half the time. He liked that you always seemed to have something interesting to add to a conversation, even on topics he wouldn’t have thought had much interest.

You were smart, and funny and cynical in all the same ways as him, and Bucky liked spending time with you. If he didn’t think it would make you uncomfortable, he’d hang around you a lot more.

Being friends with you was easy, in the same way that being friends with Sam was easy. He didn’t have to hold back certain information, or pretend he was something he wasn’t. You knew everything already, and for some reason, had decided you were okay with him sticking around.

“Do you think you’re going to find your soulmate?”

The question nearly makes him jump, as if you’d been looking right into his thoughts.

Bucky stops what he’s doing briefly and looks up at you. Your lips are pursed and your eyes move from his exposed wrist to his face. He coaches his face into what he might consider normal if the situation were different, and hums.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He clears his throat, and watches you shift your position on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you.

“I don’t know. It’s not really something I have to consider, so I guess I was just thinking about our situations… How it would feel.” You frown as you speak, and Bucky already knows you’re unsatisfied with how you’d answered. He stops completely and faces you, giving you his full attention.

“What do you mean?” He prompts. You think for a moment.

“I guess I just don’t know if I would.” You state, still frowning, though this time for an entirely different reason. Bucky feels something in his chest tighten.

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly the most normal person in the world… and I know your soulmate is supposed to be your perfect half, but there’s still choice involved, right? Not everyone chooses to be with their soulmate in the end…” Your eyes turn down to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers nervously.

“I’m just not sure they’d want me.”

Bucky’s stomach drops at your confession, something an awful lot like hurt shooting through him.

He wants to hurry and reassure you that you were wrong, that you didn’t have to worry, but he stops himself.

He reminds himself that your fears were his own, only he knew for a fact the answer.

“I don’t think you should spend your time worrying about that.” He says carefully. You stop fidgeting and look up at him. He swallows thickly.

“Your soulmate will want you, regardless of if you’re the most normal person in the world or not. And if they’re worried about your past, or the way it affects you now, then they probably don’t deserve you anyway.”

Bucky shrugs, and tears his eyes from yours to continue in his task, but stays fully aware that your gaze remains trained on him.

“If you found them, I’m sure they would want you.” He adds, almost anxiously, his mind buzzing with a million thoughts.

From the couch, you let out a short laugh, the tension in the room lifting a little. He spares a glance at you, unable to to stop the smile that creeps onto his face at the sight of your own.

“What?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Just never took the Winter Soldier for a romantic.” You tease, making him roll his eyes.

Bucky puts the last touches on your new and improved window and takes a step back.

“Would it shock you to learn HYDRA didn’t count it as a useful skill?”

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb #soulmate au

180 notes · View notes

roger-that-cap · 4 years

Text

jack pendleton

summary: moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

author!bucky x reader

warnings: no legitimate warnings besides swearing, it kind of moves just a weensie bit fast but i think it’s cute, minimal angst, I WROTE THIS IN ONE DAY and that is a warning tbh so expect mistakes in this hunk a junk-

word count: 6.2k!

Searching for your new apartment was a terribly long and boring process, but even you couldn’t deny that finally moving in was heavenly.

It was the first thing that you did by yourself after having a mutual break up with your boyfriend, and you would be damned if it felt anything but good. He confessed to you that he had fallen in love with a man that he met online. Not only that, but an Italian man that he was teaching English to over a website. He was brave enough to tell you as soon as he realized that he loved the man, so the heartbreak was minimal.

You never told him, but honestly, you sort of respected him for that. So, with your hidden respect and gratitude, you wished him well and knew that you were going to be the one to find a new place.

So there you stood, right in front of your new place with a singular box in your arms, all the others in the smallest U-Haul available to rent that you drove there. You stared at your door for a moment, which read an embroidered C7, and then you fiddled with your keys to unlock it.

You had a lot of work to do.

§§§

By the end of the fourth day, mostly all of your things were put away. You didn’t think you had much to begin with, but unpacking made you realize that you had more than you thought. So with your ambitious mind, you got everything done on your own, even the decorations that you had at your last appointment were on the walls.

By the seventh day, it was starting to feel like home again. And that called for a celebration. You got your purse and your car keys, your mind already in the shopping mall.

As you stepped out of your door, the door directly across from yours opened too. You didn’t pay them much mind besides flashing a smile and turning around to lock your own door, not even looking at whoever it was properly enough to see them. But when you did, you definitely did.

A man with long, brown hair and clear blue eyes was staring at you like a deer in the headlights, and you would have thought that he mistook you for a celebrity if it weren’t for the wrinkle of confusion on his forehead. The first thought that came to your mind was that he was as stiff as a board, and that it was almost comical. The second thought that came to your mind was that this man was very handsome, despite the way that he was looking at you like you had just said the dumbest thing known to man.

“Um, hello,” you said, not even having to be loud because you were just a few feet apart. You were tempted to be a smartass and say something rude about his incessant staring, but instead, you reminded yourself that you were going to have to deal with the consequences of your smart remark later on. Humiliation and awkwardness every time you saw him was not what you wanted. “Have a good day.”

You turned to your left and walked down the stairs, thankful that you lived on the edge of the hall and could just run down some steps to get away from whatever that “encounter” was.

§§§

The mall was utterly packed, but that didn’t matter to you at all. You were there to browse for something that was going to make you even happier after your move, and a few people in line weren’t going to bother you. You went in and out of clothing stores, buying a few things here and there, and then on your way out, you passed by a bookstore.

You liked books, you really did. But you were avoiding that store like the plague. For you to go into a bookstore with so many options available, you knew that the safest route for your budget was to know what you were getting from the second you walked in. You stood in front of it for a second, debating on going in without looking online beforehand or just coming back another day. Your own feet answered the question for you, and then you were entering the huge book store.

The shelves were high and wide and sturdy, dark brown and creating isles. Fantasy, Young Adult, Spiritual, Languages. The genres went as far as you could see. And that meant that if you weren’t wise, you could be buying a book from every aisle.

You counted the number of shelves, seeing that there were almost thirty as far as you knew, and then took out the two dice that you took with you everywhere, for reasons like this. You were indecisive, and two little cubes with black dots on them were as sure as it could get. They were your Decision Dice. They had never steered you wrong before, and today wouldn’t be the day. You were going to roll twice, and if the sum was a number less than ten, then you would multiply it by two, which was your lucky number. You liked to make things difficult.

You saw a woman staring at you with cautious eyes as you bent down and shook your closed hand, and you heard her chuckle when she saw the two little cubes roll out of your palm.

“Four,” you murmured once you saw three dots on one and one on the other. You picked them up and shook your hand again. “Three. That makes seven, and seven times two makes aisle fourteen.” You picked up the dice (that you would never admit came from your grandpa’s set of Yahtzee) and walked past the still laughing woman in the science fiction aisle.

Of course, aisle fourteen was the aisle that you probably had the least business in. Romance. You almost walked away and went for the fifteenth instead, but then what would the point in rolling be? What would stop you from denying the Decision Dice in later situations? You sighed for a second after your own dramatics and looked the shelves up and down, trying to find a title that grabbed you.

You walked up and down the aisle, slowly combing through until you saw a book on the bottom shelf by some Jack Pendleton. You frowned. It wasn’t often that you saw men’s names in the romance section, and when you did, you hardly liked what they wrote. The love interest was always flat or too out there to be believable. The female love interest in men’s books always had to be “not like other girls”, and it was worn out. For some reason, you reached down for it anyway, ready to see what you had already seen a million times before.

What you really ended up seeing shocked you.

It was about a man who served in the army oversees and came back an amputee, and became locked in a love triangle between his physical therapist and his best friend, all the while dealing with his sexuality.

That was a lot of man versus self. You wanted it.

You stood up and without second thought walked to the counter, handing the cashier the book and getting out your credit card.

§§§

You cracked open the book the second you threw your fast food trash away in your trash can. You made yourself comfortable on your little couch and put some light music on in the background, just so that it wouldn’t be completely silent. You didn’t do well with silence at all.

It took all of four pages for Jack Pendleton to surprise you again. His writing style was gorgeous and smooth, and you cold tell that he meant every word that was printed on the pages. His diction was brilliant, his descriptions even better. He didn’t give too much or too little, and you were already falling in love with it.

The main character, Elijah, was likeable but flawed. Within the first thirty pages, you could already sense that he was gaining feelings that he didn’t even know about for his best friend, Will, who wasn’t named until about forty pages at Elijah’ first physical therapy appointment. Will hadn’t even shown up yet.

You had blown through nearly half the book when you realized that it was eleven at night, and that you had work the next morning. You swore to yourself and put a smaller piece of paper in your book this time, looking at it longingly and patting it on the spine before leaving it on the small coffee table.

§§§

Work was horrible. It was boring, and you spent the whole first part of your day with a man who was mad at you specifically because you ran out of a special type of shoe that he needed to wear the next day. The store that you worked at wasn’t even really a shoe store. Then, he asked to see the manager. You were the shift manager. He got so pissed that he threw a hanger at you and stormed out, and all you could do was laugh.

You were so tired of retail, it wasn’t even funny.

You were a little more than a hundred and twenty pages in when there was a knock on your door, and it came right as you were about t flip the page. You resisted the urge to scream, completely and utterly fed up with the public for the day. There was no use in trying to ignore the knocking that already yanked your mind out of the fictional world, and so you left the book on your couch, sticking a piece of paper in it quickly to save your page.

You swung the door open, expecting to find someone who wanted you to fill out a survey or maybe even someone from maintenance making sure that everything was okay with your apartment. You certainly didn’t expect to see your beautiful neighbor with a pie in his gloved hands and a pink flush on his face.

He spoke first. “Hi, I live across the floor,” he pointed towards the door that you knew he lived behind. “I was just coming to bring you a welcoming gift.”

You were stunned. The man who stared you down and didn’t even say a word to you was at your door with what looked like a homemade pie, and wow, was that a turn of events. It was something straight out of that cheesy romance section that you were in at the bookstore. “Wow, thank you. You made that?”

The pink on his cheeks graduated to scarlet. “I-yeah, I did.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that stretched onto your face. “That’s really kind of you, thank you. I’m sure I’ll love it.” You gently took it from his hands and smiled up at him.

“It’s also an apology, for staring at you like that when you were leaving.” You noticed his subtle accent and fought the urge to swoon. He was so adorably shy. “No one’s lived in this one for years, and I didn’t notice you moving in. Kinda scared me.”

“You didn’t see the moving truck?” You asked teasingly.

You saw the small grimace on his face, and your smile faltered. “I don’t really go outside much,” he said vaguely, and you felt that you hit a nerve.

You shrugged with the pie still in your hands, lips turning upwards at him. “It’s okay, I don’t, either.”

You were both smiling now.

“Well, um,” he started to say, and you nodded your head at him, already knowing that he was about to go. “I have to finish something. I’ll see you later?”

“There’s a pretty good chance that you will,” you said, and he gave an awkward wave before turning around and walking away, right into his apartment without another look back. You cursed softly when he shut his door, and you looked down at the pie.

You didn’t even get his name.

§§§

You realized after five days of nothing (and cleaning out the pan of delicious pie by yourself) that you weren’t going to see your neighbor by chance. You hoped that you would, more than you hoped for anything else before. But he was right. He didn’t go outside much. The doors in the building were all so loud that it was nearly impossible not to hear them opening or shutting, and you never heard his once.

You had to do it yourself. Somehow, you needed to figure out how to see him again without it being incredibly weird, but you had a plan. In your eyes, it was pretty foolproof. Your mom’s chicken parmesan could never go wrong, and everyone liked to eat. You went to the grocery store without even having to roll the Decision Dice and got started on it the second you got home.

***

When it was done, there was a thin line of sweat on your forehead. You put a note to yourself in your head that the kitchen got insanely hot when you cooked, and you vowed to remember it next time. You took off your fancy apron and the chef’s hat that you wore for fun when you cooked and set it on the countertop. Now, the hard part came.

How were you supposed to get brave enough to bring a plate over to his place? Were you supposed to hope that he hadn’t eaten yet? Or, were you supposed to let him in to eat? Shit, that sounded too much like a date.

With all those thoughts in mind, you walked up to his door, C6, and knocked on it. You realized last minute that you forgot the plate on the table, so dinner was over at your apartment by default unless you did an awkward dash across the hall. The sound of boots coming towards the door were loud and clear, and then the door opened, barely giving you enough time to swallow your anxieties. You got a panging irrational fear that he wouldn’t remember you, but were relieved when he smiled down at you.

“Hi,” you said, sounding more like a telemarketer than a neighbor. “I made chicken parmesan.” It was silent for a few seconds as you both tried to make sense of what was happening, and you kicked yourself on the inside. “I made a plate for you because um, I wanted to thank you for the pie. It was really good.”

His face lit up, and it was like you were given a new burst of life and hope simultaneously. “Oh, thank you! That’s really sweet, thank you,” he repeated, his words getting slightly jumbled up the more and more he spoke. He was so cute.

You realized that the both of you were just staring at each other, standing with smiles that were increasingly leaning towards more than polite by the second. “I can, uh, bring it to your door if you want.”

“I can come over, if that makes it easier.” Both sentences were spoken at the same time, and it caused you both to apologize once again at the same time. “No, no, I’ll come back with you,” he said when you two finally spoke your own sentences.

You tilted your head. You were sure that he was shy, you could have bet money on him wanting to eat alone. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he gave you a small smile and stepped out of his apartment, and suddenly, you were aware of how he smelled like a bakery. Flower, sugar, apples, cinnamon, the whole nine. Your eyes widened when you smelled more of it when he shut his door. It smelled amazing. You didn’t want to be greedy, but whatever he had in there, you wanted a slice.

Your apartment smelled good, but in the opposite way. It smelled like sauce and spices and chicken, like a good kitchen. You almost laughed when you saw his eyes widen after he caught a whiff. His eyes scanned the table that was already set up for one, and he saw all the food in the middle and only grew more surprised.

“You did all of this yourself?”

You didn’t think it was a big deal. You knew how to plate food and you knew how to cook it fine, but it wasn’t too special, in your opinion. It was second nature because of your mother, but you could always go for a nice compliment. “Yeah, I have fun cooking.”

“It looks amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled at him.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good.”

It felt oddly domestic. You got his plate for him and watched him make his first because he was the guest, and you warned him about touching the hot pan, even though he didn’t seem worried about it with his gloves on. You asked him if he wanted wine, water, or soda, and he got his own glass of water after saying that he felt bad making you do it. By the time you sat down and started twirling your fork in your spaghetti, you were starving.

You heard him take his first bite more than you saw him do it. “Holy-” he put his hand in front of his mouth. “You made this here?”

You laughed. “Mhm.”

“Are you a chef, or something?”

You were flattered. “No, but my mother is,” and man, was she a cook. She could cook anything and make it taste good if you gave her a flame. Always, she had pressured you into knowing how to make a meal, because making a meal meant providing for yourself and everyone else in your family. You watched him cut into a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth, smiling when he gave you the “food look”. “She taught me everything I know.”

“Well, I’m about to call her and thank her,” he joked, and you giggled, twirling your own fork and getting some spaghetti in your mouth. You tilted your head. It was pretty good.

“And what about you? You can bake,” and there he was, all shy again, and you loved it. “Where did you learn?”

“My father’s a baker,” he said, and a slow smile spread across your face.

“Well, would you look at that,” you said, nodding your head in thought. He smiled back.

“Would you look at that.”

For a second, just like the two of you had done many times before, you were stuck in a world where there wasn’t anything else, not even the food. It was just his smile and yours, and the fact that somehow both of you knew that the moment was genuine.

“I’m so sorry, what’s your name?” He blurted, and you frowned.

“My name?” A flame of embarrassment and shame shot through you. You were fawning over a man that you didn’t even know the name of yet. You sister would be disgusted with you. “Oh, have we really not said our names yet?”

“I guess not...” he said, voice trailing off at the end.

“Well, good thing names aren’t that important.”

He gave you an intrigued look. “Names aren’t important?”

“They can be, but sometimes they don’t mean a thing. You can learn so much about someone before learning their name, and when you do, nothing changes what you already know. I cook and I like spending money in book stores, and you bake and stay inside. That doesn’t change after we learn names.”

He looked like he had just reached cloud nine. “You like books?”

“Of course I do,” you said, and your eyes trailed over to the book that was sitting on your couch. “I actually took that little name bit from what I learned from a book, so I won’t take credit for that.”

“What book was so in depth and interested with names?”

“I don’t even think that the main focus was the name, I think it was the opposite. His name didn’t matter because all that mattered were the emotions that came with him.” You took a second to think. “And I also think that saying his name made it real for the main character, so the dude’s name didn’t come up until he was in mid conversation.”

At first, you were worried that you lost him. But you hadn’t. “He was in love with this person?”

“Madly. But he was his best friend.” You were so excited. You were really talking to a man who liked to read? And one who liked to analyze what he read? This must have been heaven. “For a while, all we hear about is how amazing the person is that he fell in love with and about how he struggled with loving him because he was a man. We knew everything about him before his name was even said and before he was even present, and that’s probably what I like most so far about the book.”

Through your rambling, you failed to notice that he was looking more and more panicked. “Um, what’s the book called?”

“Here, I’ll just go get it,” you said, standing up and walking over to your couch, pulling it off and walking over to him. You set the book down, and watched his eyes grow so wide that he looked cartoonish. “Have you read it?”

He blinked at the cover. “Y-yeah, I’ve read it.” He looked at his watch, swore so emptily that you swore it was acting, and then gave you an apologetic look. “Um, I have to go. I’m sorry.”

So, you did scare him off. You hid your frown with a polite smile, and tried to remind yourself that even though it felt like one, it wasn’t a date. It was you paying him back for making you something in his own kitchen. “Oh, alright. I hope you liked it.”

Maybe he heard something in your voice that you didn’t, because he stopped frantically putting his jacket on to look you in the eyes. “It was amazing, I mean that. And it was very sweet, thank you.”

This is crashing and burning. What the hell happened? It was going so well! “Well, I’ll see you later,” you called out, and you watched him wash his own plate with a shocked look on your face. “Thanks,” you whispered, and he nodded at you, a tight smile on his face as he wrapped a gloved hand around the doorknob and left.

***

Maybe you hadn’t scared him away, after all.

You had full intentions of leaving him alone until he came to you, if it was ever even going to happen. You only left for work and debated on finding something simple to bake for him to extend another olive branch, but then you decided that you would let the universe control what happened, if anything was even meant to happen in the first place. There was a knock on your door, and there he was, with a pan of cupcakes that had blue icing perfectly swirled on top.

Alright, so you hadn’t.

He gave you the cutest smile, and you couldn’t help but to give one back. “Hi, I’m Bucky.” You gave him your name, too.

From then on, you two were practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t at work, he was over with you, watching a movie and talking about foreshadowing or how good the book version would have been if it came first. He was also one of the only people you knew who had actually read Tarzan, and you got a kick out of it. You got so close that you even met his little quartet of friends, Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who all liked you after the first meeting. You fit in with them like a glove.

Speaking of... “Why do you wear gloves?” You had asked him one day, and he stiffened up like a board.

“I get cold easily on my hands,” he explained coolly, and you let it go.

There were little things about him that you questioned every time after he went back home. You questioned how he never left his apartment but made enough money to keep it. You asked yourself how he was so busy in there, and what exactly he did. You wondered why he got so funny when you mentioned the book, and how nervous he was to talk about it when you finally finished it. All of those things slightly worried you, but they had nothing on the one, huge thought that loomed over all the others.

You were falling hard and fast for Bucky Barnes. A part of you could admit that you were already on the ground.

If started off slowly. You admired his mind and his smile and the way that his eyes shined when he taught you how to bake a perfect cake without all the fancy, expensive supplies. You loved the way that his cheeks glowed when you complimented him or touched his hair or his nose. You loved that he started calling you “darling” and the way that his Brooklyn accent left out the last letter. You loved the way that things with him already felt so natural, like you cooking dinner and him helping you wash and dry dishes after. You were in for the long haul before you could even reach for the door handle of the speeding car, and you didn’t really want to.

There was a knock on your door out of courtesy, and you called out for him to let himself in. You were way past knocking, but he was polite. You were tapping away at the keys on your laptop, humming to yourself as you looked into Jack Pendleton.

“Watcha doin’, darlin’?” He set down the items you two needed for homemade lasagna and his father’s recipe for some simple pumpkin bread on the counter.

“I’m trying to find more books by Jack Pendleton,” you muttered, sighing when nothing else came up. “I can’t find anything.”

“Why do you like that book so much, anyway?” You were far too into your laptop to hear the tremor in his voice.

“Because it was raw, and real, and it hurt my feelings.”

Oh, and it had. Bucky witnessed the result of you finishing the book first hand. He walked in right as you got the first sob out and looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, but he came to you anyway. How were you supposed to know that the therapist, an equally important person in the main character’s life, was going to pass away not even days after he and Will got their happiness?

You remembered how he held you the whole time, and that for some reason, he whispered a very heartfelt, “I’m sorry.”

“If it hurt you so much, why would you want to read something by him again?”

“It was brilliant, that’s why, cowboy.” You said, looking up and pointing at him with your fancy little stylus. He broke out into a smile at the name, like he always did. You called him that one time because you caught him watching The Longest Ride, and it stuck.

There was a stretched, tense moment as the sound of your typing filled the room. “I don’t think he has anything else out right now, darlin’.”

“And how would you know, rancher?”

He gave you that same deer in headlights stare that he gave you when he first saw you in the hall, only less confused. Then he sighed. “What’s in a name, anyway?”

You rolled your eyes, but you both knew that you were on the edge of laughing. You could never be serious with him. He was just so full of light. “You’re not going to get me quoting Shakespeare right now, I just asked you a dire question.”

He inhaled deeply, his face already boasting a rich scarlet. “How would you feel if I told you that I wrote that book?”

Your world crumbled beneath your feet. You knew he wasn’t lying, because you knew that he had no reason to lie. His aversion to talking about Jack Pendleton and everything surrounding it made you believe what he told you right as you heard it. You gasped, and then saw him grimace. “Bucky, Jack stole your work?”

His face fell. “What?”

“Have you taken legal action yet?”

“No,” he said slowly, and then he took in another deep breath, preparing from something. “I don’t need to, because I am Jack.” He said slowly, a small and guarded smile resting on his face. You noticed that he looked the least comfortable you had ever seen him. “It’s a pen name.”

Different kinds of humiliation were coming in large, mean waves, and you bit your lip to prevent from talking. You had really gushed over a book right in front of the author the whole time? It was so horrible and embarrassing that you couldn’t even stop thinking about it. You felt like an idiot. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop talking?”

There was a quick, hesitant intake of breath between the both of you. “Because I don’t want anyone that I know in real life to know about that.”

You froze. There was no way that he was implying that what was in the book actually happened, right?

He took off both of his gloves, and beneath one of them was a silver appendage, very clearly a prosthetic. He was breathing heavily, like he had just lifted a weight off of his chest that was double his own size. You looked at it with a wild expression of your own, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Almost everything in that book really happened.” You closed your mouth. “Some things are exaggerated, but nearly everything happened. Elijah is based off of me.”

Oh, fuck. That meant that he was actually bisexual, that he actually fell in love with his best friend, that he actually got his arm amputated after getting a grenade launched at him. His therapist actually died. You had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.”

“The main thing that didn’t really happen was the semi-happy ending for Elijah and Will. He and I broke up years ago. This all happened years ago.” Your heart broke again for him. “I put it under a fake name because it’s something very personal to me, but I felt like it should have been shared. Thought that it would maybe help some other kid who was going through it.”

You knew exactly what it was. You had gone through it yourself. If you had read the book when you were much younger, you were sure that you would have been able to find some sort of peace in the turmoil that you caused yourself. Now, you were much better, and you loved the fact that you were part of the LGBT community, but that didn’t mean that the book didn’t mean something to you.

The book was so raw that you should have known that it was real. There wasn’t a word that didn’t mean something, not a sentence that wasn’t thought out. It was such heavy material with realistic ups and down that you caught yourself relating with Elijah, not knowing that the real “Elijah” was right in front of you the whole time.

“But, um, I write science fiction under my real name, though.” You were too busy thinking about how you gushed about someone’s actual life story, and how that someone just so happened to be your super cute neighbor that you fell in love with. You gushed about his terribly sad life story right in front of him. “That’s why I’m always inside. I’m a hermit writer.”

You didn’t even get into the science fiction aspect of the conversation. “I would have never read it in front of you or talked about it in front of you if I knew that, I swear.”

“I know.” He slowly took his jacket off, and then you were seeing his arms in all their glory. It truly was a beautiful prosthetic, and from how much he used his hands, you knew that it was reliable and practical. “I just needed to tell you that.”

You could sense his unease, and it made you feel wrong. It felt like you were taking steps back. “If this is about you being bisexual, I don’t care about that. That would never bother me.”

For the first time since his confession, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I know. And I know you are, too.”

“Really?”

“I’ve seen the bookshelf in your room. No straight person reads that many books written by and for the community. And you cuff some of your jeans.” You shrugged, a small smirk on your face. He got you there. “I need to tell you something else.”

You didn’t know if you were ready for it, but if he was, then there was no way that you were going to stop him. “Of course, go ahead.”

“First, I should start off with telling you again that all of that,” he pointed towards her computer, “was about eleven years ago. I’m not healing, not recovering, none of that. Yeah, I’m sad about my therapist every once in a while, but I don’t feel anything for the man that Will is based off of anymore. That’s all gone.”

You swore at yourself for feeling butterflies of hope. You squashed them all down and made yourself pay full attention to Bucky, even though your mind was starting to have stupid little fantasies about picnic and stargazing with him. This is what you got for reading romance novels. “Okay, Buck.”

“I’m telling you all of this because I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with you.” Your mouth hung open, and before you could even get a word out, he was all over it again. “I have been for a while now, and I think now is the best time to tell you.” There was a pause for you to cut in, but you couldn’t form a word. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way or if you’re weirded out by my story-”

“I love you too.” You blurted, watching his face become shocked. “I’ve been dying to tell you that, you know?”

He sputtered, trying his hardest to form a coherent sentence. “Now I know.”

You felt a smile slide onto your face as both of your racing hearts stilled to a normal, content rate. In that moment, you swore that if someone came and checked, that your heartbeats were alternating, taking energy from each other to make one long beat. You just, clicked.

“It- none of that bothers you at all?”

“If anything, I feel bad. I feel like I intruded.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t intrude, Y/N, I’m the one who published it.”

“I’m going to hug you now,” you warned, and then you two met each other half way. Your face was in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. You smiled when you felt him gently brush your forehead with his lips, and all felt right.

You stood there together for what felt like forever but two seconds all the same, swaying a bit subconsciously. “Are you- are you sure about being okay with all of this? I know it’s a lot. And I just kind of sprung it on you.”

There he was. The shy Bucky. You knew that he could be insecure, and you knew that he was insecure about being that way. But luckily, you felt for him so much that you could assure him for the rest of both of your days with no complaints. If it took a thousand times a day for Bucky Barnes to know that you loved him and Jack Pendleton and Elijah Harris, you would do it two thousand times.

“Out of all the books in the store, I unknowingly chose yours.” Your voice was shaky, but you meant every word you said and were about to say. “And out of all the people in the world, I intentionally, without doubt choose you.”

***

If someone had asked you three years ago where you thought you were going to be in life in the same amount of time, you would have told them that you were probably still going to be working in retail. That wasn’t the case at all.

Your mother gave you a loan when Bucky persuaded you to take your talent and passion for cooking and turn it into a business. You had a medium sized restaurant that you let your mother in on, and you cooked side by side often times. It felt just like it did when you were back in the kitchen of your childhood home, but now you were getting paid for it, quite a bit.

Across the street from your restaurant was a bookstore that held a number of books that were written by Bucky yourself, but your favorite by far was the cook book that was technically a baking book, full of all of the recipes that he felt like giving away.

You didn’t expect any of that to happen within three years, at all. But what you hoped to happen most of all did, and it was proven by the simple diamond on your finger that Bucky had given you. You wanted him to think that you were surprised when he popped the question, but you weren’t.

After all, you could see the outline of the box that he carried for three weeks straight.

#bucky barnes #bucky fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #my fics #bucky one shot

258 notes · View notes

ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 3 years

Text

Let Me Get Close To You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: This is my fic for my @starkerfestivals summer BINGO “wrong number” square. I sat down to write this a couple of days ago & just couldn’t stop - I hope you guys enjoy the cute little verse I created (that I’ll more than likely revisit soon!!). Here’s my bingo card - if you see something on there you might want written, shoot me a message!!! Word Count: 7K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

Stuck with the worst professor for Nuclear Science, Peter tries to vent his frustrations to Ned - only to send a desperate text message to Tony Stark, instead. When an immediate spark and so many things in common make it easy for Peter to fall further for the elegant genius, what’s the worst that could really happen?

Or: the one where Peter texts the wrong number & romance ensues.

Read on AO3 here.

----

Fuming from a frustrating Nuclear Science class, Peter maturely stomped his way out of the engineering building. They were only two weeks into the semester and the old man already had Peter on edge. His major revolved around the class and his ability to get the most out of the information. The dinosaur that stood at the front of the lecture hall every day hadn’t had an original thought since the 90s and refused to see when others did. Much like every old white man, Dr. Milner’s ideas were the be all end all of a science that changed by the millisecond.

Still pretty new to campus after a late sophomore year transfer, Peter didn’t have many people to turn to that weren’t his nerdy and standoffish teammates on the Academic Decathlon team – most of those guys lived in a world a couple steps from the norm, happily keeping to themselves. Though Peter existed there eighty percent of the time, his need to be social and fill a space in the real world made it impossible to commit to that sort of isolation fully. Straddling the line made it difficult to exist on either side – Peter’s favorite pieces of himself were what kept people away, no matter the lifestyle.

With his mind so heavy with all sorts of negativity, Peter suddenly found himself homesick; he spent so much of his life trying to escape the streets of New York – so far from home now, Peter missed them desperately. Thinking about his tangible connection to his favorite urban wasteland, Peter pulled his phone out and hastily typed in Ned’s new number.

Peter Parker [1:23PM]: Hi, I hate it here. Peter Parker [1:24PM]: Dr. Milner is out to get free thinkers. I may not survive the next fourteen weeks.

Peter already felt a little better after typing the words – the mere ability to get one of his many worries off his chest did wonders. Until his phone pinged with a new text message notification, of course.

Nimble fingers pulled the phone from his pocket, his eyes carelessly looking over the screen as it unlocked. Expecting to see Ned’s name there, Peter almost threw the phone to the ground when Siri’s suggestion registered.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:26PM]: Hi stranger! I think this was meant for someone else, but I too think Dr. Milner is out to squash any new idea that doesn’t fit the mold. In his forty-year career, he hasn’t changed a bit.

Another text message was below it, but Peter forced himself to stop reading – his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest already, too much excitement at once couldn’t be good. Out of all the numbers he could’ve accidentally typed, Tony Stark, New York’s genius and resident beauty, Peter’s secret (though not so much) crush, ended up on the other side of the line. The unbelievability of the idea made Peter consider a well thought out prank. Then again, how did any of his fellow classmates know Tony Stark’s personal number?

Sucking in a deep breath, Peter made himself look at the second text message waiting unread.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:27PM]: I’m not sure how you got this number, but I sincerely hope you make it out alive. If you’re in Milner’s class, you’re on the Nuclear track, which means you must be smart. Trust me, the world needs your future contributions, whatever they might be.

Peter gripped the phone a little harder after reading through the second message over and over again. He let his eyes take in each of the words, wondering, if it really was Tony Stark, how anyone ever survived talking to him. In so few sentences, Peter already felt discombobulated, both more confident and turned around than just seconds before. Aside from his infatuation with the man, Peter understood Tony Stark’s contributions to the technology community and the world at large more than most.

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to text back – every time he tried to type something, his fingers froze just centimeters above the screen. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many questions he wanted to ask to make sure he wasn’t getting catfished. Instead, Peter took the direct route, his courage obviously all or nothing in the face of something as big as an accidental interaction with Tony Stark.

Peter Parker [1:35PM]: Holy crap – excuse me for the bluntness, but is this really Tony Stark? Siri doesn’t often get things wrong, especially since I souped her up. But I’m sure you can understand the apprehension. Peter Parker [1:37PM]: Would you be up for answering a few questions just to make sure?

The tip of his finger tapped against the screen impatiently after he hit the send button, his nerves and the not-so-subtle excitement were barely contained under the surface of his skin. He couldn’t remember a time where feeling alive was so prominent.

A smile slipped across his lips when, a moment later, three consecutive texts vibrated Peter’s phone in succession.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:40PM]: You souped up Siri? Steve Jobs is probably turning over in his grave right now. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:41PM]: I think I’m the one that should be asking the questions, don’t you think? How did you even get this number, Peter Parker? It’s a private line. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:42PM]: I am, though – Tony Stark, I mean.

Peter Parker [1:45PM]: Reconfiguring tech is kind of my thing. I used to dumpster dive in high school – you’d be surprised by the cool pieces of technology people put in their trash. Peter Parker [1:46PM]: Oh, bringing out the big guns – I’m happy to see Siri without my latest addition works for others, too. Peter Parker [1:47PM]: It was an accident, sending those first texts to you. My friend in New York just started a new job that came with a paid phone. I still haven’t saved the number. You are one off from him. Peter Parker [1:48PM]: Alright, Tony Stark. Tell me what campus I’m on.

Maybe – Tony Stark [1:53PM]: I’m not surprised by anything human beings do, especially in New York City. Throwing out a perfectly good iPod is certainly not the weirdest thing I’ve heard of. Did you make anything interesting in your trash conversion adventures? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:54PM]: You talk a big game, Mr. Parker. Can you walk the walk, too? Maybe – Tony Stark [1:55PM]: He must be on my payroll, then. The bank of numbers my employees have come from my personal network. Maybe – Tony Stark [1:57PM]: That’s an easy one. You’re at MIT – Milner was there when I was a student. The only thing that’s probably different between then and now is the amount of hair the old bag has.

Peter Parker [2:01PM]: You’re not wrong, Mr. Stark. I made things that helped me be self-sufficient. I grew up really poor and couldn’t afford the things everyone else had – so I figured out how all the tech worked and made my own. I’ve been using a ten-year-old iPhone for ages. Peter Parker [2:03PM]: You bet. Are you challenging me? Peter Parker [2:04PM]: He is, actually. He started in an entry level position two weeks ago. Peter Parker [2:06PM]: It’s gross, isn’t it? I’m glad we’ve moved past projectors in the classroom – the hair on his hand would make for a distracting shadow. Peter Parker [2:07PM]: Okay, okay. I think I’m convinced. One more test, though – send me a picture.

Maybe – Tony Stark [2:14PM]: Oh boy, none of that Mr. Stark shit. As far as you’re concerned, I’m Tony. Only Tony. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:15PM]: You made your own. That’s – impressive. I’m impressed and more than a little curious. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:17PM]: Challenging you, no. Enticing you, yes. I’m visiting Cambridge to do a guest lecture series next week. Come see what Stark Industries is up to – I’d love to hear what you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:18PM]: It was as bad as you think. Maybe – Tony Stark [2:20PM]: Okay, Peter Parker. [IMAGE ATTACHED]

A gasp of shock left Peter’s mouth when he opened the last text to find a smirking Tony Stark looking right at him. To prove the time and date, Tony held up the New York Times, his free hand pointing to the headline Peter read on his phone earlier that morning. After the shock of actually talking to Tony Stark wore off, Peter let himself take in the picture and all of its details.

Tony’s desk was largely visible in the shot – pens and stacks of paper littered the surface, a few rogue pieces of tech ready to be fiddled with acted as paper weights and grungy aesthetic. The man himself was breath taking – his glasses were a deep violet, offset beautifully by the crisp white shirt and black waistcoat covering Tony’s upper body. A light purple tie was loosely knotted at his throat, as if he fiddled with it while working just to keep his hands busy.

Without much thought, Peter saved the photo and added Tony to his contacts before replying – there was no reason not to trust the man, the spark in his shiny hazel eyes seemed to genuine and real to even question.

Peter Parker [2:25PM]: Only Tony, got it. Peter Parker [2:26PM]: Curiosity is good – keeps you fresh and on your toes. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: Oh, I see. You want a chance to impress me. I like that. Not sure what my opinion is going to do for you, but I’ll be happy to share it. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: Gross. Peter Parker [2:30PM]: I’m – you’re… Wow. You really are Tony Stark.

Tony Stark [2:37PM]: I think you’ll have no problems keeping me on my toes, Peter. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: I have a feeling your opinion is one that I’ll be very interested in. You’ve been nothing but blunt this entire conversation, I know I’m getting the real deal stuff. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: I am. I really am Tony Stark. Tony Stark [2:41PM]: It’s your turn, Peter Parker. What face belongs to that beautiful brain of yours?

Forcing himself to breath, Peter looked around the room for the best spot to return the favor. The bed was a hard no, he didn’t want to send the wrong vibe to a person who could easily have whomever they wanted. His desk was small, but meticulously organized – his study materials open and ready for a night of reviewing the only thing obscuring the surface. It was obvious Tony appreciated his brain, it seemed pertinent to take advantage.

After a few attempts, Peter found the perfect angle to catch the light in his eyes, making them shine brightly in the camera. He thanked the clothing gods that he chose a well fitted three-button Henley in his haste to get out the door that morning. The feeling of satisfaction was new, but not unwelcome – he wanted to send Tony the photo; for once, he knew it would impress.

Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Keeping implies longevity. Are you planning on sticking around? Peter Parker [2:56PM]: My brain to mouth filter runs at less than 10% at all times. It has brought me more trouble than shutting up ever would. Peter Parker [2:27PM]: You’re gorgeous. Violet is a nice color on you. Peter Parker [2:29PM]: What do you think? [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Tony Stark [ 2:37PM]: Yes. I think that’s the answer to that question. You’ve presented a puzzle I want to solve. Tony Stark [2:38PM]: Shutting up never got anyone anywhere. The noise we create is what shapes us. Tony Stark [2:40PM]: Thank you – I have a lot of it in my wardrobe. Tony Stark [2:44PM]: & you called me gorgeous; Peter Parker, you’re a stunner.

Peter Parker [2:51PM]: You’re a scientist, you do that for a living. What makes me so different? Peter Parker [2:52PM]: That’s a refreshing opinion. I like the way you think, Only Tony. Peter Parker [2:54PM]: That honestly doesn’t surprise me. Peter Parker [2:55PM]: Do you tell the person who made you blush that you’re blushing? I don’t remember that standard operating procedure.

Tony Stark [3:01PM]: My intrigue is of a personal nature only – the puzzle you pose is of a different sort. Usually, I think and think and think until I solve whatever the problem is. With you, I want to gather all the clues and take it apart piece by piece. Tony Stark [3:02PM]: That’s a little heavy for only knowing each other a couple of hours, but when you know, you know. Tony Stark [3:03PM]: Not usually, but I have a feeling you’re an exception to a lot of things, Peter Parker.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Peter continued to exchange flirty text messages back and forth with Tony – the mood stayed open and easy as the time passed. The older man helped Peter get through Nuclear Dynamics and three hours of decathlon practice. For all the brains Tony had, Peter was surprised to find humor and a bit of insecurity, too. Tony let himself go on tangents and make dad jokes that were a step away from being obscene.

That trend continued for the rest of the week and well into the weekend. By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Peter knew Tony’s schedule, half the newest late-night discoveries, and the way Mr. Sweet Tooth took his sugary coffee. Though a line of attraction and want existed, Peter was happy to know Tony as a person without the ability to act on the obvious tension between them. And while he appreciated the wholistic way they were coming to know each other, Peter couldn’t wait to see Tony throughout the week, either.

The older man seemed to share his sentiment – the shrill notification of a text message received pulled Peter out of his thoughts.

Tony Stark [7:30PM]: Hey, Pete! I present at 5:30 tomorrow afternoon. Want to grab something to eat afterwards? Tony Stark [7:31PM]: I’m impatient to get back to Hogan’s and thought you might appreciate his culinary prowess.

Peter Parker [7:35PM]: Tony – this is the fourth time you’ve reminded me about your presentation. I’ll be there. For dinner, too. Peter Parker [7:36PM]: Culinary prowess; if it merits that title, I’m sure it’ll be worth it.

Tony Stark [7:42PM]: I know – I just get some performance anxiety. It helps to remind myself that you’re going to be there. Tony Stark [7:43PM]: It is. Hap is an old friend of mine. He left MIT to go make his restaurant dreams happen and has been stupidly happy ever since.

Peter Parker [7:47PM]: I get it – I’ll gladly be your security blanket, Tony. Peter Parker [7:48PM]: Something tells me there’s more to that story, but I’m sure you’ll tell me one day. I’m excited to try it. Should I look up the menu beforehand, or let it be a surprise?

Tony Stark [7:55PM]: I like the sound of that. I’ve pictured having you in my arms often. Tony Stark [7:57PM]: There’s always more to the story, Pete. Let it be a surprise! In fact, I’ll order for you to make sure you get the whole newbie experience.

Peter Parker [8:05PM]: I’ll boldly say you can have me in your arms as often as you like. Peter Parker [8:06PM]: The newbie experience – there hasn’t been a time in my life where that’s been a good thing. Peter Parker [8:07PM]: Yet. Surprisingly – I trust you.

The next day went by quickly – Peter took a quiz in Nuclear Science and dug into his other two classes to keep his mind focused on anything other than Tony’s imminent presence. His last class was a core history class, so he gladly tucked into the reading the professor let them loose to do. The chime of his alarm broke through Peter’s fog a couple pages from the end of his assignment. Though he liked to be ahead, Peter gladly took the extra few minutes to get himself together before heading to MIT’s presentation hall.

Decked out in his finest pair of black jeans, a blue denim short-sleeve button down, and solid black high-top Converse on his feet, Peter walked the few minutes it took to get back onto campus from his small apartment. Unsurprisingly, a line was formed out the door of students hoping to get into the presentation last minute. Tony told him earlier in the week that they waited to advertise his appearance until the a few hours before to stop the masses from flocking. To Peter, the time restriction seemed to only make it worse.

In Tony’s excitement to have Peter there, the older man set aside a ticket for him – instead of joining the line like he might’ve without Tony’s insistence, Peter walked straight into the cool auditorium, snagging a seat at the end of a row located dead center in the auditorium. The vantage point was perfect – Peter wouldn’t have any trouble catching Tony’s eye as he spoke. Grinning at his access to such a simple pleasure, Peter relaxed back into the seat, passing the time until Tony took the stage by watching the crowd flood in around him.

It wasn’t long before the lights were dimming and a sweaty, high ranking alumnus gave Tony Stark a mediocre welcome onto the stage. The crowd broke out into a cheer that more than made up for the old man’s subpar words. Tony timed his entrance perfectly; he walked out as the energy rose, the shift in the crowd’s tension working to enhance everyone’s excitement. Peter found himself glued to the man, who until that moment, existed entirely on the other side of the phone – he didn’t want to miss a single second of full-body absorption.

A black suit coat sat snuggly on Tony’s shoulders, a singular button keeping the sides closed. His dark hair was elegantly styled, the bed-head look enhancing the easy-going style Peter knew Tony strived for. The facial hair Peter came to truly appreciate over the last few days of texting drew attention to his sharp cheekbones. Tony seemed genuinely happy to be there if the beaming smile on his face said anything at all. With a few claps and the corniest joke, the older man got the crowd under control, proceeding onto his speech with an effortless transition.

As expected, Peter found himself interested from the very beginning. Tony’s new work on energy and its uses amongst transportation and city overhaul was ingenious – when things got up and running, New York’s power grid would run completely on sustainable energy. So many thoughts flashed across the front of Peter’s mind – he wondered if Tony would let him take a look at the blueprints. He might not have much to contribute, yet Peter understood the opportunity for learning and development when it presented itself.

By the end of Tony’s presentation, Peter was overjoyed to know that he wouldn’t need to feign interest in the topics Tony brought to the table. For a while, Stark Industries went through a slump of working on weapons and junky tech Peter found in the trash more often than he ever wanted to admit. It felt good to be excited about something new coming from the company – Tony Stark was the smartest person in his field, anything less than almost perfect just didn’t do the man and his ideas justice.

After fielding a lot more questions than Peter expected, Tony headed off the stage with a roar of applause – the genius wasn’t a household name for nothing. Smiling at the thought, Peter pulled his phone out; he got to see behind the curtain more than others – he felt a sudden surge of gratefulness at the fact. Every person around him would do anything for the privilege; taking that for granted just wouldn’t do.

Peter Parker [6:45PM]: You’re an incredible public speaker, Tony. Peter Parker [6:46PM]: Thanks for making me come!

Tony Stark [6:49PM]: How inappropriate of me is it to say that this isn’t the only time I plan to make you come?

Peter Parker [6:55PM]: Very, but it’s appreciated, nonetheless. I’ll meet you over by the Engineering building whenever you’re done trying to outrun your fans.

Tony Stark [7:00PM]: You’re fucking hilarious. I’ll meet you there in five.

True to his word, Tony snuck up behind Peter a few minutes later – soft palms that gave way to well-earned callouses pressed against Peter’s cheeks as Tony covered his eyes. The mere fact that Tony was there at all was surprise enough; the touches and softly whispered “Hello, Pete,” in his ear felt like more than enough to cause a coronary.

Shaking his head to clear it, Peter turned in Tony’s arms, a huge grin playing across his lips. With the way they were standing now, Peter’s chest was pressed delightfully against Tony’s – he felt each and every one of Tony’s inhales of oxygen and exhales of carbon dioxide that brought Peter’s attention to the firm muscles pressing and pulling the man’s abdomen. His breath caught when Tony palmed his cheek, their mouths mere inches apart. Despite not actually knowing each other, Peter felt comfortable in Tony’s embrace.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter finally replied after allowing his breath to mingle with Tony’s. As they stood there pressed together, neither could decipher where one started and the other began. The thought made his grin grow a little wider, the courage inside of him pulsing a little more boldly with life. “You were amazing up there.”

Tony remained perfectly still; his limbs seemingly frozen in a clench to keep Peter close to him. His grip was firm, both the hand on Peter’s hip and his late day stubbled cheek. Like the man himself, Tony’s touch left something behind that kept Peter on the hook, always seeking more. He half expected for Tony to lean in and slot their lips together – his deepest desires and tangible wants were starting to collide in such close proximity.

Instead, Peter’s smile was returned with quirked cheeks and bright hazel eyes. “You weren’t too bored?” Tony asked, his voice soft in the small space between them. His thumb swiped constantly across Peter’s cheek, the obvious need to move apparent, even in such an intimate situation.

Chuckling lightly, Peter shook his head. “So far from bored. My thesis research is all about sustainable energy – you had me interested from the very beginning,” Peter replied almost immediately, not caring that his excitement clearly shone through in the pitch of his voice. The way he was leaning into Tony’s touch, Peter didn’t have much of a chance to disguise his truth, anyway.

“You’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for – I can tell already.” Tony’s words were mumbled almost as if the older man was embarrassed to say them – to hand out such a compliment to someone other than himself. And yet – Tony’s hesitation made the statement mean so much more; the rarity of such kind words (despite being spoken so softly) did nothing but make Peter want to melt into Tony even further.

Before things could get too mushy or physical, Peter took a large step out of Tony’s arms – begrudgingly, the need for space was prominent if they ever wanted the night to continue. Never mind the fact that paparazzi were constantly hounding and following Tony wherever the man went. Though he was deemed an appropriate companion at the time, Peter was more than sure the public would not agree.

With that thought in mind, Peter shot Tony a shy smile – “I’m pretty famished. Want to show me what Hogan’s is all about?”

They spent the ten-minute walk talking about the presentation – Tony grilled Peter about a few of the technical parts, while Peter drooled a little bit over the projected uses of Tony’s new energy storage and production. Like two nerdy peas in a pod, neither could help themselves – geeking out and talking about something they were both interested in made the rest of the world melt away. Peter might’ve kept on his tangent if it weren’t for a tall, thickly built man clearing his throat.

Looking up at the noise, Peter realized they’d walked a few blocks already and were standing in the lobby of a well-maintained hole in the wall that radiated the most delicious smells. Grease and cheese and freshly dropped French fries hit his senses all at once – there was no doubt that whatever they were about to consume would be more than delicious.

Peter was seconds away from wiping drool from his chin when Tony broke out into action. He took the couple of steps between their current position and the hostess stand to wrap who could only be Happy in a firm, breathtaking hug. “Happy, my man. It’s so good to see you,” Tony exclaimed as he stepped away, an adorable look in his eyes. “I’ve been talking this place up to Peter here, thought I’d cash in on your good will.”

Suddenly, all eyes were on Peter – Tony looked at him like something he couldn’t wait to deconstruct, while Happy tilted his head curiously, as if the one glance would tell him all he needed to know about Peter Parker. Unwillingly to stand there like an animal on display, Peter broke through the weird with a soft laugh and a light wave.

“Nice to meet you, Happy. Tony’s been selling me on your food for days now. I can’t wait to try it,” Peter said, his shoulders rolling back to help him stand a little taller. Though he had nothing to prove to the total stranger in front of him, Peter couldn’t help but want to make a good impression – Happy obviously meant something to Tony; their comradery and easy affection said that without much effort.

There was a moment where all three guys seemed to look between each other – Peter watched with bated breath as Tony and Happy carried on a silent conversation with just a few blinks and forehead crinkles. By the time Peter understood what was happening, Happy stepped a little closer to him, his big hand reaching out for what could only be a handshake. Without hesitating, Peter took it – for whatever reason, the handshake felt monumental; like with the one touch, he beat the level boss and gained access to the next one.

“Good to meet you, too. Tony’s good about that sort of advertisement – we probably wouldn’t have made it without his ugly mug around at the beginning,” Happy replied. “You guys know what you want? I’ll get it on the grill personally.”

At that point, Tony stepped back into the spotlight and grabbed the reins – he ordered everything at rapid fire speed, like the menu existed as a hard copy in Tony’s mind. Considering the warmth of the older man’s welcome and Happy’s cryptic words, Peter didn’t doubt that Tony was a regular – more than likely a founding customer, even.

It took no time at all for their food to come out to the small table in the corner Tony led him to. The tray was piled with an abundance of food – cheese steaks, fries, burgers, even a couple of desserts littered the table as Tony unpacked their haul. Peter’s eyes were wide, his mouth watering with a want that only Zap’s Bodega could illicit before. “This – it all looks amazing,” Peter babbled, his stomach both hungry and overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

“Just wait until you taste it. Happy used to crank out these cheesesteaks on the little hot plate we had in our dorm room. They were excellent, but the addition of the flattop has made them unbeatable.”

Unable to decide what smelled the best, Peter grabbed whatever was nearest to him. His fingers wrapped around the greasy paper of the aforementioned cheesesteak, his mouth watering even more. “So, you and Happy were roommates at MIT?” Peter asked around a large bite, the food in his mouth muffling some of the words. It really was good – worth looking like a pig in front of the most beautiful man alive.

“Hap and I go way back. His father worked security at Stark Industries – he was on my dad’s personal protection team for most of my life. When Happy’s mom died and the need for babysitting became a thing, Happy started to spend the evenings with me after school. In a lot of ways, he’s the only family I’ve ever had. When he first opened up this place, I was young and just looking for some investment that would piss my dad off. I knew Happy had talent, but neither of us thought this place would blow up the way it did.” Tony looked up then, a vulnerability in his eyes. “We’ve been in business together ever since.”

Smiling encouragingly, Peter nodded in Tony’s direction – their closeness, Tony’s unwavering advertisement and protectiveness, even some of the food names he could see on the menu; it all made sense. After taking another bite of the cheesesteak, Peter chewed slowly before responding. “There’s always more to the story, right?” he questioned cheekily. “It sounds like your gamble worked out for you – I didn’t look at the menu, but I did Google Hogan’s; there’s ten locations within a 300-mile radius.”

A snort had Peter looking up, his eyebrows quirked. “I should’ve known,” Tony said through a laugh. “Your generation is all about instant gratification.”

Their eyes locked then, Tony’s words and their meaning sitting in the space between them. Peter forced himself not to blink – he wanted to memorize the rich hazel color that barely ringed a growing pupil. Hunger and want and something unrecognizable existed in Tony’s glance; when it was all over and Tony moved on, Peter desperately wanted to remember the genuine rawness he drew out of one of the world’s greatest minds.

“Or just impatience,” Peter countered. He drew his eyes away, needing to break the glance to stop himself from propelling himself across the table and tackle Tony to the ground. Though it looked as if Happy kept the place spick and span, Peter didn’t want to think about Tony’s expensive suit on any other floor aside from his own.

They attempted to pull the small talk back to something a little tamer, but the road of the rest of the evening had already been paved. It became harder to focus on anything other than the thick press of Tony’s thigh against his own under the table. As the minutes passed, Peter noticed Tony staring, and after a while, the older man just never stopped. Every time he looked up, Peter caught hazel eyes taking him in – undressing him button by button with the sheer want in his eyes. A red blush took up permanent residence on Peter’s cheeks and neck, the color following him out of the restaurant and out onto the street where Tony took his hand without hesitation.

Before his mom passed away, Peter remembered a softly mumbled conversation laying across both his parents early, early in the morning. His dad’s big fingers were wrapped so neatly around his mother’s, the embrace tight, despite the hour. Peter reached out to touch the unbreakable seam, his eyes wide with wonder. “They fit,” Peter whispered softly, his finger running reverently over their joint fingers.

His mother pulled him close then, her lips finding that special place on his cheek. “One day, Petey, you’ll find that perfect person whose hands will fit yours just the way your father’s fit mine.”

A warmth settled in Peter’s chest as he slid his hand into Tony’s, their fingers interlacing perfectly with ease. The immaculate fit of Tony’s hand pressing against his own made him snuggle in further – whatever happened between them after this, Peter would forever know how easily he and Tony Stark fit together.

Giving Tony’s fingers a squeeze at the thought, Peter looked up, breaking the silence – “Do you want to see my apartment? I’m sure it’s not nearly as fancy as the hotel you’re staying at, but I’ve got Netflix and a really comfortable couch.”

Tony took a few long strides to answer, his face a little pensive. “I’d love to see your apartment, Pete,” Tony replied easily. They came to a stop at the crosswalk – Tony used his momentum to pull Peter close to his chest while they waited out the light. “I don’t care about fancy. You’ll be there.”

While Peter had lots of things to reply, his words were cut off by slightly chapped lips eagerly pressing against his own. It took Peter a second to recognize what in the glorious hell was happening – when the reality of the situation finally registered, Peter surged forward, tilting his head to not only return the kiss, but deepen it.

Both of Peter’s hands found their way around Tony’s neck to keep him close – he felt like he might pass out from the sheer goodness of Tony surrounding him without the grounding touch. He was far from a virgin, but none of his previous encounters knocked him off his feet in such a way that made Peter feel like a fumbling newbie.

Sipping from each other’s mouths, Peter was surprised by a strange and unrecognizable voice coming from behind them – “the light’s changed, fellas.”

It took an obscene amount of effort to pull away – though the stranger’s words made his face burn with embarrassment, Peter was reluctant to step out of Tony’s embrace and the tantalizing press of warm lips against his own. Regardless of his trepidation, Peter reluctantly moved back.

He made sure to slip his hand into Tony’s before they set off again.

“I’m just another couple of blocks away,” Peter reassured, a hungry smirk on his face. Tony returned the look, their stride all of the sudden lengthening. Their walk turned from a leisurely stroll to a brisk half-run. If it weren’t for the want raging through Peter’s veins, he might’ve found the change hilarious. In all of their time together, Tony never expressed impatience – he always seemed calm, cool, and collected. Yet, in the face of heat and need and the promise of bare skin, Tony let that mask drop.

Happy to know a new something about Tony, Peter reveled in the pent-up silence that carried them back to his apartment. Snagging a ground floor unit close to the entrance, they luckily didn’t have to wait for an elevator or awkwardly pretend that they weren’t about to push the other against the wall and start ravaging whatever pieces of skin they could find. Instead, Peter impatiently pulled Tony behind him as they walked between building 1 and 2 with eager steps.

After some fumbling and a set of dropped keys, Peter finally got his door open and Tony through it. Without missing a beat, Tony pushed him back against the newly closed front door, their lips harshly joining. Groaning at the contact and suddenness of it all, Peter pulled Tony in – any space left between them was unacceptable now that they were in a private space where wandering eyes and clicking cameras couldn’t see. Their obvious passion was too much for the public eye; Peter so desperately wanted to keep Tony to himself – devouring him in a safe space was only the first step.

As Tony traced his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, Peter fumbled his hands down the older man’s chest until he could pull the crisp button-down from well-tailored pants. The second he was able, Peter shoved his hands under the soft fabric, his palms greedily pressing into Tony’s hairy chest. A groan left his mouth – the chest hair under his fingers was soft and teasing. Peter was caught between the urge to tug at the strands and lay his head gently against them just to feel the texture against his skin.

Tony made the decision for him – large hands were suddenly on Peter’s waist, his feet coming up off the ground with little effort. Unable to keep his hands where they were, Peter broke the kiss with a groan and shifted until he could wrap his legs around Tony’s hips. Peter panted for breath while his lips were still free as Tony navigated through the room blindly. Another soft moan left Peter’s lips when his back hit the pliable leather of his couch.

Where just moments before they were standing chest to chest, Peter now had the full weight of Tony against him. The older man fit seamlessly between his splayed thighs, their hips lining up in a way that made Peter’s cock pulse against the confines of his tight jeans. With a bit of shifting, their groins were matched – Tony’s thick cock felt sinful against Peter’s. If his impending orgasm was already upon him, Peter wondered what it’d be like when their clothes hit the floor and he really got to taste what Tony had to offer.

Like he was reading his mind, Tony made quick work of the buttons on Peter’s shirt. Calloused hands dragged up and down Peter’s bare chest as he pushed the navy fabric to the side – his skin was practically hairless, the only exception being a small trail of it leading down to the v of his jeans. Tony let his fingers play through that small amount of hair, his fingers teasing as they got closer to the one spot that Peter wanted him to be the most.

Deciding to take his mind off of the heat in his belly and the closeness of his orgasm, Peter returned the favor. His hands were shaky as he passed button after button through their holes. With a gasp, Peter spread the sides of Tony’s shirt to get the maximum impact of the older man’s torso. He liked what he felt before, but the view was something else – Tony’s chest was chiseled and cut, his pecs and abs straining with effort. Peter noticed throbbing veins and a few scars in his perusal; the evidence of Tony’s life and the way he lived it made Peter pull the man a little closer. Tony Stark drove him absolutely mad – every new thing he learned contributed to the insanity even more.

Before he could get lost in the thought, Tony’s lips were skating along his cheek, only to stop and caress the outer shell of Peter’s ear. “You feel amazing, Pete,” Tony babbled, his tongue peeking out to join in on the fun. “I want to taste you, feel your cock pulse against my tongue. You’re so fucking hard and I can’t fucking wait. Is that okay?”

Peter pulled back then, a soft grin pulling at his lips. In all of his sexual encounters, Peter couldn’t recall someone caring about him so thoroughly, let alone stopping to ask how he felt. Both hands came up to grip Tony’s cheeks until the older man was looking right at him. Through the haze of arousal, Peter recognized that warm spark in Tony’s eye – it was the look in that first picture that kept Peter coming back for more.

“It’s perfect, Tony. I’ll take anything you want to give me,” Peter said breathlessly. He leaned up for a kiss to drive the words home.

Tony looked genuinely happy when Peter pulled away – his cheeks were flushed with obvious arousal, his lips quirked in a saucy smile. Without saying anything, Tony nodded his head and travelled slowly down the length of Peter’s body. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans before Peter could think or even draw his next breath.

Sturdy hands didn’t hesitate to pull at the waistband of Peter’s boxers – his flushed cock was already leaking as it came to rest casually against the firm abs of Peter’s chest. Tony’s calloused fingers immediately wrapped around the length, giving a tight squeeze to the base. The sheer feeling of his crush’s hands on him was almost enough for Peter to jump straight over the edge. Catching Tony’s eyes and biting down on his bottom lip was his only saving grace – the knowing look in beautiful hazel eyes pulled a chuckle from Peter’s chest, the noise distraction enough.

“Okay?” Tony asked again, the words were spoken with his mouth hovering just inches from the pulsing flesh of Peter’s cock. He could feel Tony’s breath against his sensitive skin, everything about the situation making it hard to articulate or think or exist as anything other than a melted puddle of goo against broken-in leather.

Peter took a couple of deep breaths before nodding vigorously. He felt a red flush travel even further down his neck and torso, arousal and embarrassment mixing together to create the ultimate aphrodisiac. He finally found his voice, muttering a choked off “yes” before the motor function of speaking left him once more.

After a heartbeat and then another where neither man moved, Tony gripped the sharp bones of Peter’s hips, pushing his lower body down against the cushions. They shared another look as Tony lowered his head, his pink tongue poking out to lick lightly against the leaky head of Peter’s cock. Hazel eyes stayed on him – Tony continued to lap along his sensitive skin, all while killing Peter slowly with the heat and want reflecting back. By the time Tony had all of Peter in his mouth, Peter was seconds away from being undone.

It’d been so long, and he’d wanted Tony since he understood what attraction was. Being pinned down by the person he desired longer than some of his friendships did nothing but magnify everything that was happening. His skin felt like it was on fire under Tony’s touch – the suction around his cock felt like it was coming from all angles, everywhere, all at once. Unable to stop himself, Peter moaned, panted, and shamelessly shouted Tony’s name as the blissful seconds passed.

The telling zip of a zipper being pushed down, and Tony’s hasty shift told Peter that Tony was similarly affected. He picked up his head to watch Tony suck his cock down while his right hand moved at the same pace – while he took Peter’s cock into his throat, Tony was stroking his own erection with sure strokes. As if the heat around him wasn’t enough, the beautiful visual of Tony taking his own pleasure pushed him those last couple of steps over the edge.

Bubbling heat in his belly boiled over. Peter frantically reached down to grip Tony’s shoulder, his mouth wordlessly shaping around warning words. “I’m – I’m… fuck, Tony. I’m going to cum,” Peter finally managed to gasp out. There was just enough time for Tony to pull away, to let Peter’s pleasure splatter on the blood warm skin of Peter’s stomach. Yet, Tony held fast, instead – he redoubled his efforts, his lips tightening and throat relaxing in invitation.

Unable to stop himself, Peter let go – his hips thrust up into Tony’s enticing heat, the man’s name dripping from his lips as pulse after pulse of cum left his body. Tony moaned around him, swallowing easily without pulling his mouth away or stopping his ministrations. The suction continued until Peter was reaching down halfheartedly to push at Tony’s soft curls.

While he caught his breath, Tony crawled up Peter’s body, a self-satisfied smirk on his red cheeks. Peter grinned at him, happiness and satiation rolling off of him in waves. Without thought, Peter pulled Tony tightly to him, their lips finding each other like opposite poles of magnets drawn together by the sheer force of nature. Tony shared Peter’s taste with him, his talented tongue thrusting into Peter’s mouth with a shared groan between them. It was all so hot; Peter felt his spent cock already starting to come back to life.

With that thought in mind, Peter started to reach down to help Tony finish achieving his own pleasure; yet his hand was batted away with affectionate finesse. Peter shifted until he could meet the honey hazels he was already addicted to, a question in his eye.

“There’s no need,” Tony mumbled, his face tucking into the skin of Peter’s neck. “You’re so sexy, I couldn’t help but touch myself. The way you look in the throes of pleasure – it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“Holy shit.”

Tony chuckled at the awe in Peter’s voice. “My sentiment exactly.”

For a while, they stayed stretched out on Peter’ couch, exchanging kisses and greedy touches on all the bare skin either could reach. Without so much adrenaline coursing through his system, Peter felt himself melting even further into the comfy cushions below him. After a jaw breaking yawn, Peter reached up to cup Tony’s cheek, pulling the man’s attention towards him.

“Want to stay over?” Peter asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though they were spent and wrapped up in each other, Peter wasn’t sure where Tony stood. There was a big difference between the type of intimacy physical touch and sleeping next to another human being required. The last few days, Peter fell asleep with Tony’s messages open on the bed next to him – actually sleeping side by side, in person, that was a whole new step for them.

Tilting his head to the side, Tony shot Peter a tender smile before nodding and leaning down to press their lips together.

“Yeah, Pete – I want to stay.”

#starker #starkerfestivalsevents #starker festivals summer bingo #bobbie writes #let me get close to #peter parker/tony stark #starker fic #sfsummerbingo21

59 notes · View notes

yurimother · 4 years

Text

LGBTQ Game Review - A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986

Before diving into the meat of Oracle and Bone’s A Summer’s End, I want to talk about the women behind this game Tida Kietsungden, and Charissa So. So and Kietsungden have done nothing but impress me since the announcement of A Summer’s End. They have repeatedly demonstrated their immense effort and dedication to creating a beautiful and thoughtful experience. Through conversations with the studio and reading their blog entries, I gained a remarkable understanding of how this game is both a tribute to classic cinema and a love letter to the Yuri and LGBT community. Through careful research and thoughtful expression, the two women navigate and acknowledge complicated issues, including Asian LGBTQ history and Hong Kong’s delicate political situation with grace and maturity. I am in complete awe of both women and their work. However, regardless of my profound respect for these creators, I still endeavor to offer my unfiltered thoughts on the visual novel, giving praise and criticism where appropriate.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a Yuri visual novel set, as you may have figured out, in Hong Kong in the year 1986. The game follows a young office worker, Michelle (Fong Ha) Cheung, who has a chance encounter with a free-spirited woman named Sam (Ka Yan) Wong. Both women feel drawn to each other, and the game explores this mutual attraction and the budding relationship which emerges from it.

This plot follows the standard girl meets girl story that has permeated the Yuri genre for the past several decades. Like most Yuri stories, the older and more experienced woman, Sam, is rebellious and beautiful, with long dark hair and a dominating persona. Michelle, although far more naive in the ways of love, breaks the trend of this trope by being the more sullen of the two. I would have liked to see the game diverge a bit more from the standard story of the genre. Fortunately, A Summer’s End is a romance story between adults who do not work together, setting it apart from the norms. It even includes a coming out section that creates a more robust LGBT identity than any tale of temporary schoolgirl love.

The story is well put together and well presented. The story is told primarily from Michelle’s perspective. It mostly takes place over a few days, during which Michelle engages in a whirlwind romance with Sam. This story features the struggle between her feelings and passion and her devotion to tradition and her mother. The progression of her affection is unrealistically fast. The story feels a bit rushed, and many of the societal and personal quagmires the game stumbles upon are not sufficiently developed or confronted. Had the game indulged in a more prolonged and tumultuous struggle for Michelle, conclusions would have felt much sweeter, and the story would have gone from good to great.

Even with this massive missed opportunity, there are plenty of exemplary moments and aspects of the narrative. The game pulls no punches addressing Michelle’s slightly overbearing mother and the conflict between the two. It would have been incredibly simple to take the easy route on this one. Still, the developers stuck to their guns and manage to explore a challenging situation satisfyingly, all while keeping the characters realistic and sympathetic. In fact, every scene relating to LGBT rights and history is flawlessly executed.

There are also some fantastic chapters, including a thrilling but refreshing bike ride and a flashback scene that recontextualizes certain events from another perspective. The many references and allusions to classic cinema including some older lesbian films and plenty of Asian works, are particularly noteworthy. However, the best part of A Summer’s End by far is the setting.

The location and time period is intrinsic to Sam and Michelle’s tale, as it is shaped by and reflects contemporary culture and LGBTQ rights. Oracle and Bone create a vibrant and lively world, a jaw-dropping depiction of Hong Kong in the 1980s. Everything helps feed into the creation of this world, including a fantastic and retro UI, small touches such as a Cantonese subway announcement, and objects encountered like a disposable camera help convey a strong sense of the period. However, the soundtrack sells it more than any other element, save perhaps the artwork, transporting the player to the era. While a few tracks are the standard easy listening affairs one expects from visual novels, there are tons of excellent city pop and disco beats, complete with plenty of synths and confidence! Finally, a visual novel soundtrack that contributes more than just background noise!

Sadly, the game’s dialogue choice system and branching paths are far more of a hindrance than a help. I can honestly say that the game would play better and be way more enjoyable as a kinetic novel. Most choices feel inconsequential, changing nothing of the story and resulting in almost the exact same response from other characters yet, they have a hidden points system. If you do not earn enough points, parts of the optional adult content will be unplayable until one goes back to find the right choice. I spent several hours replaying, and eventually skipping through, the game to unlock all the scenes, and finally gave up with one CG left unseen. The only choice with any actual effect is painfully evident in its consequences. One option leads to the bad ending, which is well written, but no reasonable player would go down that path unless they just wanted to see the whole game. The second unveils the true good ending, which no player in their right mind would not pursue, as again, the choice is obvious and adds nothing to the game. There is no reason to put in an alternative ending or tedious dialogue choice.

The characters in A Summer’s End are well constructed. Sam is adventurous without being obnoxious and has a mature though appropriately unrefined demeanor. Michelle is extremely curt and somewhat distant, although she displays a sharp wit and more timid nature on occasion. Both women participate in engaging, deep, and thoughtful discussions, often with each other, although sometimes internally, and thus feel well developed and complex. Unfortunately, their chemistry, while not absent, is not enough to sell the whirlwind romance. There is insufficient expression of their feelings and attractions, both internally or through dialogue and actions, so their inevitable closeness feels unearned.

However, even in the short game, both characters change with each other, especially Michelle, as she becomes more affectionate, confident, and caring. She begins to embody some of Sam’s warmness while never losing herself. Some of my favorite dialogue and interaction came from her towards the end of the game, although I will not spoil it. Additionally, side characters have a strong presence thanks to their firmly established characteristics and a profound effect on the narrative. Each has their own sprite and mannerisms, helping cement them as fixtures in A Summer’s End rather than tacked on assets.

The visual novel contains optional adult content, which is installed in an extra patch and can be toggled on and off. I played through the game with and without it and can happily report that the story is just as fulfilling and complete without it. Although the unlockable nature of these scenes is aggravating, they are very well written and sensual without being exploitative. There were moments I did not care for as much, such as Sam getting carried away at one point, but it felt very realistic and incredibly sensual. The artwork in these sexual encounters is some of the best in the game, embracing darker colors and showcasing intense desire.

Speaking of the artwork, it is stupendous. The game is bright and striking, with amazing backgrounds complete with luminous neon signs, glaring televisions, and life and activity oozing from every corner. The backgrounds are so beautiful and detailed they could effectively serve in place of CG art, although there is plenty of that asides. The character models and designs are similarly excellent, with expressive poses and faces. The various outfits, of which the game has many, embody iconic 80’s fashion. Artist Tida Kietsungden draws both the characters and CGs with a distinctive hand-drawn style, which allows them to play well off each other and add to the beautiful presentation. The detail and care that went into the aesthetics are enormous and elevate the game at every moment.

A Summer’s End – Hong Kong 1986 is a vibrant and intimate experience. The fantastic setting and flawless artwork surround a compelling and thoughtful story about lesbian love and desire, societal expectations, and the bonds between family and lovers. It is rough around the edges, with a slightly rushed story that leaves little time to wallow in complexity and an awful dialogue system. However, it will win players over with its striking presentation and sophisticated subject matter. I look forward to more from this studio and highly recommend you check this game out!

Ratings: Story – 7 Characters – 6 Art – 10 Music – 8 LGBTQ – 8 Sexual Content – 3 (8 with patch) Final – 7

Purchase A Summer’s End on Steam and itch.io, available April 23

Consider supporting Yuri news, reviews, and content on the YuriMother Patreon

#Yuri #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq+#queer #gay #reivew #a summer's end #hong kong #girls love #gl #wlw #lesbian #visual novel #games #video games #gaming #manga #anime #reviews

2K notes · View notes

uselesslesbiab · 4 years

Note

Hi! Genuine curiosity, i havent played much P4, whats the problematic aspects of naoto's relationship?

Hey! I’ve posted about this before but I can’t find where I explained it in detail and I never tag my asks because I’m stupid. Warning this is gonna be a long post. Basically Naoto’s romance route makes you forcibly feminize her before she’s ready to express herself more femininely.

If you’ve only played P5 you may not know that in P3 and P4 you have to choose certain dialogue options, commonly called “relationship flags”, throughout the social link in order to be eligible to romance the character. In P5 all you have to do is say “I love you” in rank 9 and that’s it. Basically you just have to like drop hints that you are romantically interested in this character otherwise they will only see you as a friend.

One of Naoto’s relationship flags is “I’m glad you’re a girl” which is said immediately after she says “Why couldn’t I have been born male”. One of the other dialogue options here is “Your gender doesn’t matter” but if you pick that one you are locked out of her romance. This conversation also makes her visibly uncomfortable. Also, at rank 10 she tells you that she tends to make her voice lower but asks if you would like it higher so she can sound more feminine. You must pick the dialogue option “I like it higher” to unlock the next thing I’m about to talk about which is probably the worst part of her romance. Before I go on, notice how Naoto is constantly offering to change herself to be more feminine because she thinks it’s what Yu wants. Yu feeds into this during her romance and makes her think she has to do things like this to please him.

Naoto’s Christmas Eve date is probably the worst part. Basically she gets herself a female Yasogami uniform and wears it specifically for you. Afterwards you get a “fade to black” moment that’s actually a lot more explicit than the other girls. Here’s some pictures.

Notice how all she ever says is that she’s doing this because Yu wants her to. She’s forcing herself to be more feminine to please her significant other which was physically painful for me to watch her character go through. Also not the basis for anything close to a healthy relationship even if they are just high schoolers.

The last thing I’ll talk about is more of Naoto forcing herself to be feminine for Yu’s sake. Keep in mind I know that in the epilogue Naoto chooses to dress more femininely and seems comfortable with it. However, this is several months after the end of the game which means that Naoto needed some time before she was ready and comfortable in her own body to dress more femininely. Your romance route forces her to be more feminine before she’s ready.

For context, whenever you put a female party member in certain outfits you will get two different sets of dialogue when talking to them. One dialogue if you romanced them, and one if you’re just friends. (If you romanced them and want to see the friend dialogue all you have to do is talk to them a second time.) I’ll let Naoto’s romance dialogue speak for itself:

Swimsuit:

Battle Panties:

As you can see she’s clearly uncomfortable but only wearing it because she thinks that’s what the protagonist wants to see her in. In her friendship dialogue it really shows how uncomfortable she is as she panics and threatens to arrest both Kanji and Yosuke when they comment on her outfit. Overall she’s not having a good time.

I didn’t want to make this super long but it ended up being like this. Anon this is nothing against you personally because you were super nice about it I just wanted to make one big post covering everything because I have a lot of people in my inbox asking me why I hate sounao. I hope this answered your question.

Thank you to DismArchus on YouTube for providing me with these videos so I could take screenshots. If you are a persona fan you should absolutely check him out he posts a LOT of content from persona 3 onwards including the spin-offs. Complete social links, special events, secret boss fights, you name it. Any scene you can think of that you want to watch real quick has probably been posted by him and he also has full playthroughs of all the games if I remember correctly.

#persona 4 #naoto shirogane #yu narukami #souji seta #ask #getting these screenshots was genuinely painful I hated watching these scenes again

60 notes · View notes

kingofkate · 4 years

Text

Random Rant on Heart no Kuni no Alice (because I want to)

This is going to be stupid long, but I’m not sorry because I want to put these thoughts down.

Basically, this long rant is going to look at the three main games where Alice’s relationship with Peter White is explored: Heart (game 1), Clover (game 2), and Twin World (1.5?????). I’ll look at how their relationship is portrayed and the differences between them.

Let’s start with Heart no Kuni no Alice, the first game in the series. (I’ll be referring to the remake version that only focuses on the main story)

The story of the first game is the introduction to the series, and so Alice’s relationship (no matter who you choose) is pretty basic and there isn’t much story beyond her the romancing. This is most true with Peter.

The entirety of this game, and Alice’s relationship with Peter, is one long stream of Peter pushing Alice’s boundaries to see how far he can get. It’s actually a little scary looking at the way he slowly inches his way through the relationship.

It starts with Peter coming to Alice’s room on his breaks to rest his head in her lap. Even though she doesn’t like it, nothing stops him (she moves room and locks her door but he always finds her and uses a key to unlock the door). Then, he get’s her more comfortable with touching him and with the fact that he is a rabbit.

After it makes the move to them sleeping together (in Rabbit form), Peter starts only sleeping in human form. Once Peter has a nightmare.... uh.... bad dream, he hugs Alice, which leads to this becoming a more common thing. He starts kissing her. Even when she tries to get him to stop he tells her that if she doesn’t give him permission to kiss her, he’s going to do it anyway.

He does try to take it further, but thankfully Alice puts her foot down and he respects that... for a while... Outside of the bedroom, Peter starts trying to get her to advance their relationship status in front of others.

Alice admits they are friends, which makes him happy, but he isn’t satisfied. He gets her to eventually admit they are “lovers” after pointing out that most people don’t make out every night with their “friends”. (somebody hasn’t heard of friends with benefits)

The ball comes around and the canon choice has Alice and Peter go back to his room for the first time. Peter admits that he hasn’t brought her there before because he was afraid that he would scare her away. He was probably right about that, since he proceeds to tie her to the bed and start getting freaky while telling her that HE is scared. Whatever.

Like everything else, this becomes the new normal for them and Alice starts spending more time in his room. This also marks the change in Peter from being unnervingly kind to Alice, to starting to torment her more. He puts this down to trying to get her to “stay”, as her return to her world is approaching.

When the time comes, she does choose to stay. This leads to a conversation with Peter where he admits that he wants her to love him, a huge change to what he used to say. This brings him to tears as he realizes he has become “selfish” by wanting her to love him, even though he doesn’t think she can.

Spoiler Alert (wait why am I putting this at the end of the story?!) Alice already loves him, although she’s pissed at herself for it and refuses to tell him.

The story basically ends with them just deciding to go forward with the relationship and Alice will stay. The End.

I’m not going to talk more about the “No-stay route” where basically Peter just force kisses Alice anytime she asks anyone for information about the medicine Peter gave her at the beginning until she just decides they are dating.

I’ll analyze this more as we go through the second game.

Clover no Kuni no Alice (game 2 I guessssssss?????)

This game starts much later after Alice’s decision to stay. It also goes off the assumption that Alice didn’t have a relationship in the first game and was just friends with everyone.

Right off the bat I’ll say that I LOVE the progression of this game way more than the first game.

The game starts with Alice waking up to realize that both Peter, Ace, and Vivaldi are hiding in her bed. After a long confrontation they all say they were there to tell her about the country straight up moving from Heart to Clover.

They go to the assembly and after getting used to the new world, Alice and Peter (who are already friends at this point) go for dinner.

The second best thing here is that Peter is more chill and happy with them being friends, so the relationship doesn’t start outright. The actual best part of the game is that the relationship is defined and pursued entirely by Alice.

The starting of this relationship is Alice making the point that Peter doesn’t seem to treat her like someone who was “in love with her” would. The point even make more when he tried to kiss her but just ends up kissing her lightly on the cheek.

They start going to dinner because they have to eat and Alice likes having Peter along with her. At the castle, the story focuses more on Peter’s acceptance of her working as a maid (because he doesn’t understand her need to work) and his treatment of the other maids.

There is a great scene where Peter and the maids are arguing with Alice because they all want her to hit them (since they relate hitting with affection). When Peter insults the maids Alice hits him, which makes him grumpy. When she confronts him about it, he admits he wanted her to hit him for him, not to defend the maids. Peter actually understands that Alice was angry and they talk it through.

The two go to town and Peter shoots some guy for bumping into Alice. He then gets in trouble for not cleaning up the “mess” after leaving the man alive at Alice’s pleading.

When Alice sees him later at the castle he runs from her. After a comical chance Alice gives up and sits on the ground, hitting her head lightly against the wall in frustration. Peter comes back to make sure she is ok.

He states that he suddenly felt nervous seeing her happy to see him and ran. They talk about it a bit. Alice tells him that as long as he respects her wishes, he can kiss her. They kiss.

This is a HUGE change from the first game. 1) this kiss comes from a lead up and discussion of advancing their relationship and 2) Alice is the one who initiates it. They kiss more as the days go on, but Peter always asks first since he knows she is uncomfortable showing affection in public.

One time, when they go back to her room at the Clover Tower, Peter actually stops the kissing to talk with her about her past relationships. This is where it is revealed that he wants to kill her ex for breaking her heart, and also doesn’t really like her dad for abandoning her after her mother’s death.

It doesn’t take long after this for Alice to suggest they go on a date. This comes as such a surprise to Peter that he falls off the couch they were sitting on and goes into a panic.

Some time passes and they go on an official date to a field to have a picnic together. Peter changes into a rabbit and they talk. Alice admits to Peter that she thinks she’s fallen in love with him. He is completely silent and changes back. Quietly, he asks if it’s ok for him to hug her (he’s asking permission still) and when she says yes she notices that he’s crying. He begs her not to run away from him. She’s not going anywhere.

But the game doesn’t end here.

The rest of the game is them developing the relationship and dealing with the fact that Peter can’t accept Alice’s decision to keep working as a maid. She eventually asks if they should break up since he doesn’t like her job. He freaks out at this and threatens to kill the other maids if she does. They talk it through together and he relents and says he isn’t happy about her job, but won’t bring it up again.

After this nothing of too much note happens. The game ends (good ending) with them getting freaky in bed. And by that, I mean Alice says she wants to hurt him and Peter is like “yes, that sounds nice.” Then Alice says she won’t and he’s like well that wasn’t nice. And it ends with them in a relationship.

The End.

Obviously the second game is a huge improvement on the relationship of the first game. Alice has been in Wonderland long enough to get to know the people and Peter has been friends with Alice long enough to respect her decisions. They spend more time developing their relationship in a more healthy and realistic way. I love this game.

BUT!

None of this compares to Wonderful Twin World, which is set in Country of Heart, but takes place after the end of the first game. And this game is just... amazing.

It picks up with Alice already in a relationship with whoever you choose. There is a strange storm coming that will change everyone in a random way that will end after the storm and they won’t have any recollection of what happened to them. And the whole story of this game is Alice working through the issues in whatever relationship she is in. No matter who you play, it’s great.

I particularly like Julius’ route, where Julius changes into a super affectionate man who is obsessed with Alice and acts like the boyfriend she wanted him to be. This helps her work through the fact that Julius is generally neglectful of her and doesn’t show affection often.

Peter’s route is nice because it shows them sort of working through his anxiety of the instability of their relationship. While he starts off not worried about the storm, he goes through the steps to help Alice get more comfortable by taking her on fun dates.

When the storm comes the only change with Peter is that he can’t change into a rabbit anymore, and has no memory of being able to do so. At first he isn’t worried, but when they run into Eliot, who can now change into a rabbit, Peter’s anxieties start to show.

Alice always used Peter’s rabbit form as a way to destress after a long day (who doesn’t love cuddling a cute rabbit, right?). After having a dream where she spends time with Eliot in bunny form, she accidentally says her name in her sleep, causing Peter to spiral.

Instead of him going off the handle, they sit together and talk about his anxieties. He admits that though he is happy they are in a relationship, he doesn’t actually understand why Alice chose him. He’s constantly worried that she will change her mind. Now that he can’t become a rabbit, he wonders if she wouldn’t be happier with Eliot.

Alice handles this pretty well and tells him that she loves him for him, not just the rabbit form. And while it doesn’t fix everything, she is now aware that Peter has concerns about her feelings for him and she can make changes to improve things.

Once the storm ends Peter doesn’t remember anything that happened. The go to a church and Peter discusses his interest in getting married to Alice. She turns him down and he asks when she’ll be ready. It ends with her uncertain when that time will be.

-----

Basically, I love some healthy relationships. And I really love open conversation and respect in a relationship. The first game is somewhat excusable because it was the first game and the start of the series.

The fact that the creators improved on the relationships in the other games says a lot.

The biggest problem I’ve always had with the first game is Alice’s unwillingness to set clear boundaries and the others willingness to just do whatever they want. That’s why I also really like Julius since he is the most adult of the lot and is too busy to treat Alice like garbage. He’s not great for a relationship because he’s so neglectful of her, but since he spends more time defining his relationship with Alice it’s fine. Basically, a relationship is fine as long as both sides set their boundaries and respect the other. This is why Twin World is amazing.

So many “dating sim” games don’t give the main character much of a personality. Alice is great that she has a personality and a clear set of standards.

I’m not super happy of the exclusion of Peter in the remaining games and I would love to see him make a comeback now that the creators have developed further.

The new game will be released soon and we will see if there is any conclusion to the series of not.

So in summary: Peter in Heart --> Hot trash, Peter in Clover --> Good Bun, Peter in Twin --> Best Bun.

Rant finished, I guess.

#heart no kuni no alice #clover no kuni no alice #hkna #peter white #Alice #alice in wonderland

54 notes · View notes