#experimenting with my style and having a blast while doing it

[hiro-doodlez]

BASED OFF THAT ONE DRAWING JAKEI MADE!!

[queerpumpkinnn]

You Snooze You Lose

3.9k words

Summary: you're just about to give up on the dating scene altogether, so who better than your neighbor friend to show you how good dates usually end? can you tell this is my favorite trope

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader (can be interpreted as older!Eddie)

Warnings: piercedtongue!Eddie, softdom!Eddie, mention of reader having an awkward date, alcohol (both consume but they're not drunk), Eddie refers to reader as princess/pretty and reader is afab but pronouns and clothing style is up for interpretation, Eddie picks up reader, thigh riding, choking, brief weed mention, fingering, oral sex, singular biblical reference?? (not counting someone saying 'oh god' or something of the like, kinda vague i think it'll probably go over a lot of people's heads), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling (eddie receiving), mentions of voyeurism, reader begs a lot a lot a lot, unprotected sex and creampie (this is fiction, wrap it before you tap it), nipple play, panty sniffing and stealing, scratching (eddie receiving), Eddie's mouth (however you're interpreting this the answer is yes), heaps of praise, sprinkle of dumbification, squirting, Eddie is a pleasure dom through and through, let me know if I missed anything

While reading, I recommend you listen to the altar is my hips - a Spotify playlist by me!

~

Your head fell back against the car, inhaling deeply and heaving a long sigh that devolved into something of a groan. Your social battery was impossibly drained.

You had just come from another pitiful excuse of a date, someone from work that a mutual friend had set you up with. It wasn't a total disaster, but it didn't leave you with butterflies either. But you were home now, so you could forget about the experience for the timebeing.

A voice calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. It was one you recognized immediately as your next door neighbor, Eddie. When your eyes located him you saw him sauntering out of his open garage towards your driveway, beer in one hand and jean pocket over the other. His chunky boots set in stone his walk, so casual and powerful, and oh god he's right in front of you now.

"You must be doing some serious thinking out here," Eddie chuckled, leaning on your car opposite you. "Either that or there's more to that tree than meets the eye because you've been staring at it for the last five minutes."

You chuckled back at him. "You've been watching me?"

"With a face like that, it'd be a crime not to."

There it was again. That little game you and Eddie played. Even from your first day in the neighborhood Eddie welcomed you with his abrasive charm and an open invitation to his services on a car. Which he seemed to exercise often- his garage door was often open during the afternoons, blasting music as he sat under his car doing god knows what. He never failed to wave and wink at you as you pulled into the driveway every day as you came home from work.

As you became more accustomed to him, your friendship evolved into frequent Friday night hangouts, sitting on the ground in the living room with a six pack talking about anything and everything.

You hated to admit it, but it didn't take long for your cheeks and ears to start to get embarrassingly red in front of Eddie, especially when your conversation topics became more, well, intimate. Whether or not he'd picked up on it, you didn't know- nothing had ever come of your little crush; you'd been content to leave that between you and your vibrator.

"Kid? Y'alright?"

There you go again. You shook your head, blinking a few times before shooting him an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, sorry."

"You seem a bit on edge. Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug. "It's nothing, really. Just got home from a date."

"Assuming it didn't go well?"

"It wasn't bad, it just- I don't know, it felt forced."

Eddie hummed, nodding lightly. "I hear ya. Tell y'what, take ten to get settled and let me clean up, then come over, we'll break out a couple of bottles and you can tell me all about it, yeah?"

"Sounds great," you agreed, and Eddie gave you a playful salute before sauntering back to his own driveway- which you may or may not have watched for a little too long.

Once you'd changed into more casual attire, you took the short walk down the street to Eddie's house. By this time, the sun was half set, and his garage had been shut, the only evidence that someone was home being the lights on in the kitchen.

"There you are. Was starting to worry," Eddie grinned at you as soon as the door swung open. You noted a flash of silver behind his teeth as his tongue swiped against his side teeth, and the tickling in your lower gut a moment later.

"Aw, you worry about me?"

“All the time, sweetheart,” the man flashed a grin, stepping aside to welcome you inside. "So, what's gotcha down?"

You heaved a groan, plopping onto his couch. "It's such a long story, I'm not even sure I have it in me to tell the whole thing. But he treated me like one of the guys. I mean, I want us to be friends too, but..." you clicked your tongue and sighed, words escaping you.

Meanwhile Eddie just watched you, arm slung over the back cushion across from you on the other side of the L of the couch. His beer bottle rested on his knee, balanced by his hand. "You wanted to be romanced."

"Yeah, I guess so. He didn't even make sure I got to my car safely."

Eddie's eyed widened, head cocking in disbelief. "Are you kidding?" When you shook your head no, he flung his hands in the air. "That's not even romantic! I do that for my friend's kids I drive around because I don't want them getting kidnapped!"

"I know, I know. That's not even the worst part."

Eddie scoffed. "What could possibly be worse?"

"Let's just say I know more about his bowel happenings than I would like to."

Eddie wrinkled his nose, sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, y'know princess, I get the feeling he's not your soulmate." He set his bottle down with a clink on the wood, running his hands up his thighs. "Man, even I could do better."

Something in your stomach turned over at the thought. Eddie seemed to notice your change in demeanor, however slight, and set his bottle down.

"Could you?"

Although it was after a few long, heavy seconds, the words escaped you faster than your brain could process them. Eddie's eyebrows twitched in something mixing amusement and bewilderment.

"I could," he mused. You swore that when he shifted his legs opened a little bit wider. "'Least your night wouldn't end complaining to a friend over a beer."

"Oh yeah? How would my night have ended?"

Eddie cocked a brow, lips curling.

You tilted your head to the side, eyeing him. Another long, heavy moment settled between you two, where you sat staring at one another.

Then your mouth moved of its own accord.

"Show me."

Slowly, so slowly, Eddie stood. sauntered over to where you sat. He watched you like a hawk, mischievous eyes captivating yours. A single, calloused hand reached out to your jaw, tilting it up a bit so that you were facing him. Eddie's mouth quirked up at the new sight.

"Y'want me to show you how your night should've ended, princess?" He crooned. You nodded dumbly, earning another chuckle. "Show you how you deserve to be treated, hm?"

Before you could give a response, Eddie's mouth was on yours, slow and deliberate and relaxed, seeming to simultaneously pull tension from your bones and set your skin on fire. Your fingers reached for his jacket, tugging him closer. Eddie gripped the couch back behind you to hold his weight, other hand coming to cup the back of your neck, slinking into your hair. His thumb rested on your pulse, smirking a little when he felt it racing.

"Pretty thing," he murmured in between hot kisses, "are you sure about this?"

"So sure, Eddie, please," you breathed, tugging his jacket off; the leather was cool to the touch, nice on your searing fingertips.

You could feel his mouth quirk up at your desperation. The hand that held the couch came down to your legs, lighting fire in their wake and finding the crook under your knee, tugging outwards. Heat brewed in your core at the implication- fueled even more so when Eddie pulled back with a grunt to tug his jacket away. Your eyes seemed to be locked in on his, somehow darker and lit with something primal. His kiss-bitten lips hung open in a lazy grin.

"C'mere, pretty." Eddie's hands grip your thighs with a searing mix of worship and need, pulling them apart and tugging you towards the end of the couch by the crooks under your knees. You let out a squeak, breaking quickly into a stifled hum of pleasure as his mouth found and made quick work of your neck, kissing and nipping and licking with that damn ball of metal down the front of your throat, hands splaying over your thighs appreciatively all the while.

"Eddie," your voice had risen into a near whine, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. All thoughts were clouded with his storm- his breath fanning your jaw, warmth radiating onto your body, almost chest to chest, hands teasing dangerously high.

"Hm?"

"Please, please Eddie..." you weren't sure what you were asking for, really, you just knew you wanted more of him. However he would give himself to you you would gladly take.

"Please what? Y'know I'm all yours, honey, I'll give you everything you want and then some but I can't help you if I don't know what that is."

"More," you huffed, reaching for his wrists.

"More?" Eddie teased; the condescending lilt in his tone was overwhelmingly obvious, but in your frenzied state you only nodded limply. Your hand tugged at his, and he followed your lead as you dragged his hand towards your neck, pressing at the back of his hand to indicate what you wanted him to do.

"Oh? Princess likes choking, huh?" The excitement in Eddie's voice was hardly containable, but he managed to play it off cooler than how he really felt- like a dog who just heard dinner being poured into his bowl. "That is interesting."

Eddie's grip on your neck wasn't really that strong, but it made your head spin nonetheless, eliciting a weak, content noise from you.

"There we go, fuckin' love hearing that." Eddie gave a kiss to your cheek, his other hand occupied with sending shock waves down to your gut as his fingers walked up the back of your leg. "What else does princess want, hm?"

You only let out a whine, too engrossed with the building, unbearable heat in between your legs, which, at the sound of his nickname, twitched further open.

Lucky for you, Eddie picked up on that immediately. "Aw, sweet thing, shoulda told me." He tuts, moving both hands under you and rearranging the two of you so that your crotch was hovering over his thigh, other leg hooking onto yours so that you were spread open for him.

"Here we go honey, y'wanna use my leg, hm? Get yourself off?" His words were muffled by the skin of your shoulder.

Realistically you knew you wouldn't be able to orgasm from dry humping his thigh alone, but God you were so eager for friction you were willing to try. You whimpered an 'mhm', setting yourself down on his leg- even that small touch made you gasp. Eddie's hands reached for your ass, helping you grind down onto him, nearly knocking the breath out of you when the contact you so desperately craved turned into a wildfire of need.

"That's it, sweetheart, keep going. 'S'it feel good? Yeah?" He mimicked your whimper of response, proud grin never faltering, even as he nipped at your jaw. His hands, firm, surprisingly gentle for how rough and calloused they felt, traveled from your ass to your waist, fingertips slinking under the hem of your shirt.

"Can we take this off, princess? Want to see you, pretty please let me see you." His voice was low and sultry and had goosebumps rising on your back. You whined an 'mhm', the thought of what he was going to do when you were topless spurring you to pull it over your head yourself.

Once your chest was bared to him, Eddie's hands, trailing lightly enough to tickle, found your poor, sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing over them enough to make you jolt, gasping in surprise.

"Eddie, Eddie- fuck, more, need more, please," you cried, hand flying to his hair when his head dipped to lick over your chest. Whether it was to tug him away or keep him there, you didn't know.

"Aw, I know, you're just insatiable, aren't you?" Eddie gave you his best faux sympathetic voice, and for a minute you actually thought he might feel sorry for you, like it wasn't his plan all along to get you worked up like this.

Eddie's hands worked under your legs, pulling you closer to him before hoisting you up, stomping somewhere in the house you'd only visited a handful of times and never under this circumstance- his bedroom.

It was a dimly lit room, smelling faintly of weed, but you weren't given much time to take in the sights because Eddie plopped you down on his bed, immediately towering over you, caging you in with his arms. His curls tickled your face, then your neck when he moved there. A few sloppy kisses quickly turned heated again when his leg wedged itself between yours. You took the opportunity, however fleeting, to rut yourself against the material.

But this time Eddie gripped your hips, pinning you down. "Patience honey, I'm getting there." The glint of warning in his eyes had you nearly shaking in excitement. A glimmer inside of you wondered what he'd be like if you ignored his warnings.

Eddie slithered down, slowly, kissing his way down to your navel. You willed your hips to stay down, not to lean into his touch, but they did anyway. Your eyes fell shut, head falling back and fingers finding the pillow for something to weakly grip onto.

But a tap on your hipbone snapped them open, looking down at a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you, hovering over your cunt. Knowing what he was asking, you responded with lifting your hips, making it easy for Eddie to slip your bottoms down Your phone nearly fell out of your back pocket from the force with which he flung them, as if he detested the fabric for its audacity to cover you up.

"Good, doing so good." Eddie gave your thighs a squeeze, smiling up at you with something a little kinder, more endearing than the smirk he'd donned the whole evening. With another squeeze, his head dipped down close to your clothed cunt. You swore you could hear him inhale, but your train of thought was halted when Eddie licked a fat stripe up the front of your underwear, sending shocks to your already hypersensitive clit.

"God- fuck!" You tried to clap a hand over your mouth, but Eddie tugged it away as quickly as it came.

"Y'doin' alright, princess? You seem a little tense." Eddie's teasing lilt came from somewhere under you, you could see the grin even through closed eyes. You opened them anyways. His smile was turned into something more playful, a glimpse of the boyish humor he always charmed you with. His head leaned against your thigh like a puppy, pouting up at you with false concern.

"Wonder fuckin' why," you gritted through your teeth, throwing your head back in exasperation.

"Easy tiger," Eddie chuckled, fingers pulling your underwear down- this time you definitely heard an inhale. You heard him mutter something along the lines of "saving these for later."

Eddie's fingers were quick to find you again, thumbs brushing over the joint between your thighs and your pussy, as if he thought the action was soothing and not setting you on fire.

You let out a strangled sound. "Eddie, I swear, if you don't fucking touch me-"

"You'll what?" Eddie's brow raised. His gaze alone made any snide remark die on your tongue.

As if on cue, your phone, long forgotten on the edge of your bed, lit up with an incoming call.

"Well?" Eddie prompted. You reached for the phone, seeing the absolute last name you cared to see illuminating the screen. You gulped, a tinge of guilt seeping in.

"Ah, I think I know who it is." Eddie chuckled, forehead knocking into your thigh as he made a poor attempt to hide his thorough amusement. "Well? Y'gonna answer it?"

You paused, made a face. You didn't even want to talk to him, really.

Eddie barked out a laugh at your reaction. "Shame. He could've learned a thing or two."

You giggled, but it quickly turned into a loud moan as Eddie's tongue, followed by that damn metal ball in the middle, began teasing circles over your clit. Somehow you were both infinitely relieved and worked up even more. Your phone was long forgotten, flung a little too far as, somewhere in the back of your brain, you heard it clatter on the wooden floor. Not that you could be brought to care, not with the way Eddie's tongue felt tracing your weeping hole.

"Fuck, all this for me? Sweet thing, if I knew how good this pretty pussy was sooner." You wondered momentarily what the end of that sentence was, but with his lips around your clit you weren't too worried. Ceaseless and electric his mouth was, bringing you slowly but surely towards that high you'd been chasing fervently for an hour now.

"Eddie, Eddie, I'm gonna- fuck! So good, Eddie, I'm gonna come, pleasepleaseplease-" You could barely understand yourself speak, so lost in your cloud of pleasure. But Eddie seemed to understand perfectly, cooing sweet praises into your cunt as he shook his head back and forth.

"Gonna cum, princess? Go on, you've earned it. Been so good, so patient f'me. Good, good, let go." He pulled both of your hands towards your lower stomach, interlacing them with his.

The noises you made as you unraveled under his marvelous touch were downright pornographic, downright sinful. One might be tempted to say you'd forgotten how to blush, but the heat in your cheeks would have shot down the theory. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, pulling pure electric heat from your sex as you writhed and shivered from Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

But when the pleasure subsided into jolts, Eddie didn't stop. His tongue continued tracing your clit languidly, and- oh- a new sensation at your core had you squeezing his hands.

"Eddie, ohmygod-" Quickly you realized what he was doing, one finger prodding around your entrance before sinking into your embarrassingly wet cunt, which welcomed him. Your back arched when his finger curled, a guttural sound ripping from your throat as he pushed deeper, searching for that spot, the one that would ensure a noise complaint from a few neighbors.

"Shh, you're okay, you're doing so well, hm? So well, yeah, relax- just like that." Eddie hummed, another finger joining the first and a high-pitched moan from you following shortly after.

And then he found it. That damn spot deep in your gut, and he bullied it with his fingertips over and over and over again.

"Eddie!" His name fell from your mouth like a hymn, moans almost swallowed by the pillow you tugged to cover your face when the brief thought of the neighbors made you a slight bit guilty. Your second orgasm of the night was coming at you full steam ahead, much easier to find from your oversensitivity as well as the new sensation that joined his thumb swiping over your clit.

"That's it, princess, give me another. G'na get you nice and ready, yeah?" Ready for what, you had an idea that sparked, if possible, even more delicious heat in between your legs.

You were animalistic at this point, nearly screaming for him to make you come again. You almost sobbed when his fingers pulled out from you, hands reaching weakly for him.

"Easy, easy, I know. Gonna make it worth your wait, mm? You want my cock, sweet thing?"

Your mouth salivated at the mention, and you immediately propped up onto your elbows to watch him line himself up with you.

"Please, Eddie, please," you sighed, head lolling back.

And there it was, that delicious stretch that had your mind reeling and fingernails digging into Eddie's inked shoulders.

"Oh, oh oh, so good, so good, Eddie, right there!"

Your hands were grabbing for every bit of him you could find. Tugging his hair, scratching down his back, pulling his neck down into a searing, heavy-breath kiss.

"Fuck, princess, keep clenching and I won't last." Eddie grunted into your mouth. His hand, previously pressing onto your lower stomach, pulled your legs so that your ankles rested over his shoulders, bending down a little so that he could move deeper, and did it have you seeing stars.

"Keep- ah- keep going, please, 'm gonna cum, gonna- Eddie!"

Your cunt convulsed around Eddie's cock, throbbing inside of you as you felt white-hot release wash over you. You sobbed into Eddie's pillow, chanting his name as he overwhelmed you with praise. Eddie fucked you through it as best he could, but you could feel he was slowing down, spurts of wet heat in your gut moments later.

"Oh, baby... didn't know you could do that." Eddie was grinning like an idiot, incredulous grin staring down at his thighs. Dizzy, you looked down where he was staring like he just won the lottery.

His thighs were splattered with what you could only guess was your own arousal, even a few drops on his stomach.

"Oh my god," you flopped your head back, hand covering your eyes and trying to cover your embarrassed smile.

"Hey, that was hot." Eddie pulled your hand away, giving you that same sweet smile, squeezing your thigh before pulling himself out. You winced at the feeling, guilt following as you realized his sheets were definitely soiled.

You let out a long exhale, mind still racing. Eddie, having tucked himself into a new pair of pants, watched you. When he concludes you've had a moment to sit and think, he strokes your arm.

"Hey, cutie. You alright there?"

"Uh huh."

Eddie chuckled at the stupid smile you're sure you wore. "C'mon, gotta get you cleaned up."

"Yeah- sorry about your sheets."

Eddie pursed his lips, shrugged. "It was worth it, don't you think?" You attempted to stand, but Eddie held up a hand. "Allow me."

Eddie carried you into his bathroom, seating you carefully onto the toilet before excusing himself. He came back a moment later with your phone, wet wipes, and a glass of water.

You and Eddie fell into more casual conversation- the latter participant heavy on the cocky jokes- it was comforting. He'd offered you to stay the night; not like you hadn't conked out on his couch before anyways.

Brushing your teeth with your finger, you tapped your phone to check the time- and almost knocked it from the sink.

"FUCK." You nearly sprayed toothpaste foam all over Eddie's mirror, holding the phone inches from your face in case your vision had somehow failed you the first time.

"What, what what??" Eddie shouted from the shower, a bottle clattering on the tile shortly after.

You spat your foam out, coughing. You pulled the curtain open enough to push your phone into the shower to show him the time and name of your most recent call.

A pfft noise followed by loud cackling echoed off the tiles. "Oh shit! Y'think he got a show too, sure it wasn't FaceTime?"

Meanwhile you sunk your head into your hands in utter mortification.

Although a tiny part of you was laughing too.

~

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[the-winter-spider]

Timeless | B.Barnes

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: I was listening to Timeless By Taylor Swift and was clearly inspired.

Masterlist

——

2024

The night sky was ablaze with flashes of light and the crackle of energy blasts as you and the Avengers fought your way through the remnants of a fortified enemy base. The mission had been straightforward—take down a group of rogue mercenaries who had been experimenting with dangerous, uncharted technology. But like most things in your line of work, nothing stayed straightforward for long.

You dodged a barrage of gunfire, returning fire with precision, while Steve and Bucky fought side by side, taking down enemies with practiced ease. Natasha was up ahead, taking out a sniper nest, while Tony soared above, providing aerial support with his repulsors. You could feel the heat of the battle on your skin, your senses heightened by adrenaline.

“Stay sharp, everyone!” Steve’s voice crackled through your earpiece. “Something’s not right about these guys.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. There was an eerie, unnatural energy surrounding the mercenaries. They were moving too fast, their reflexes too sharp for ordinary humans. And then you saw it—a strange device in the center of the base, pulsating with a sickly yellow glow.

“Tony, what the hell is that?” you called out, your eyes fixed on the device.

“Not sure, but it’s giving off some seriously weird readings,” Tony responded, his suit’s HUD lighting up with unfamiliar data.

Before you could react, one of the mercenaries—his eyes glowing with the same yellow hue—turned his attention toward you. He raised his hand, and suddenly, you felt a force tugging at you, pulling you off balance. The ground beneath your feet seemed to shift and warp.

“Y/N, get out of there!” Bucky shouted, his voice desperate sprinting toward you, but it was too late.

The world around you exploded in a kaleidoscope of colours as the force yanked you from your place in reality. Your vision blurred, and your body felt like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time. You could hear the panicked shouts of your teammates growing distant as you were sucked into a swirling vortex of light and sound.

“Bucky!” you cried out, reaching for him, but your hand grasped nothing but air.

And then, everything went black.

1930s

You landed on your feet with a thud, slightly stumbling back into a large tree.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing? And what are you wearing?” Peggy Carter scowled at you.

Your mouth fell open. This wasn’t just another time—this was a different universe. You could feel it in the air, something distinctly off. The timeline wasn’t your own.

Peggy grabbed your hand, her grip firm. “I hope you had enough time alone because you’re going to be late!” she scolded, pulling you along. She was dressed in a stunning pink gown, her hair styled perfectly, as always. Peggy was gorgeous, no matter the universe.

“Late for what?” you asked, allowing her to drag you along. You knew you could trust Peggy, even in a world that wasn’t your own. You had to play along, to avoid disrupting whatever timeline you’d landed in.

She spun around to face you, her hands on your shoulders as she inspected you. “What are you doing, Pegs?” you asked, the nickname slipping out naturally, even though it felt foreign on your tongue. You hadn’t called her that in seventy years, and the thought brought tears to your eyes.

“I’m checking to see if you hit your head, because there’s no way you’d forget that today is your wedding. You’ve been talking about it since we were little!”

Little? You didn’t meet Peggy until 1943, when you were twenty-five. So things were really different here. “My wedding?”

“Oh my gosh! We do not have time for this!” Her hands flew up in exasperation as she yanked you towards the cutest little house. You noticed the green front door, the white picket fence, and the blooming sunflowers. It was beautiful. You could see an archway decorated with flowers, undoubtedly for your wedding. The wedding that was apparently yours.

Peggy peeked her head inside the house. “Is he still upstairs?” she called out. A voice responded affirmatively, and she hurried you inside, not giving you a chance to take in your surroundings. The house looked as though someone had just moved in—or was planning to. You could hear voices from upstairs, your heart skipping a beat when you recognized a laugh. His laugh.

Before you could fully process it, Peggy pulled you into a room just off the foyer.

Inside, you saw a garment bag, likely containing your wedding dress. Another woman was setting up curlers and makeup. When she turned, you nearly gasped. “Becca?”

“Finally! Oh my gosh, what are you wearing? Where did she run off to, Peggy?”

“That’s what I said!” Peggy replied, starting to take down your ponytail and brush your hair. “She was by the pond.”

“The pond? What were you doing over there? Did you fall in? You’re a mess,” Rebecca scolded.

A few tears slid down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened as she wiped away your tears. “Whoa, okay, hey. We’re not mad, just worried. And we only have,” she glanced at the clock, “two hours until showtime.”

They worked on your hair and makeup while you sat there, trying to absorb it all. This was a moment you never got in your own timeline, one you should have had. Anxiety gnawed at you. What year was it? Who were you marrying? Was Bucky here? Surely he was if Rebecca was, but what if this was after the train incident? What if you had moved on in this timeline in a way you never did—or never would? Was Steve here? Was he finally with Peggy? What was your Bucky thinking? Did he know you were gone? How long had you been missing from your universe? Did they miss you?

Peggy and Rebecca squealed in delight, snapping you out of your thoughts. They spun you around to face the mirror. You gasped softly. The woman staring back at you wasn’t who you expected to see again. Your hair was styled beautifully, parted and curled. Your makeup was flawless, enhancing your features. Your lips were painted your favourite red, a shade you hadn’t worn since before everything changed. They didn’t even make this shade anymore in 2024. Even though you had your boys back in your universe, you weren’t that girl anymore, no matter how much you wished you could be.

Rebecca and Peggy guided you to stand. “Okay, time to take whatever this… is off,” Rebecca said, motioning to your Avengers uniform. To anyone else, it might look like a tight, all-black tracksuit. Thankfully, you had used all your weapons during the mission, so you didn’t have any on you. Your last hidden knife was thrown just before you were tossed into what you could only assume was the multiverse.

Peggy opened the garment bag, handing you a smaller one. “Go put these on first,” she winked, shoving you towards the small attached bathroom.

“And please, for the love of God, don’t mess up your hair or makeup!” Rebecca shouted after you.

You stripped off your uniform, folding it neatly and placing it on the toilet. A small gash on your side caught your eye, and you winced as you cleaned it as best you could. Opening the bag, you couldn’t help but smile. Of course, it was lingerie.

You put everything on, marvelling at how it made you feel. It had been so long since you’d worn anything like this—or even worn the colour white. It felt wrong. You weren’t some innocent, naive girl anymore. You were a killer. You sighed, shoving your Avengers clothes into the bag the lingerie had come in. You felt exposed, the gash on your side still visible. Luckily, when Peggy found you, you were out of it. You could say you fell and didn’t notice.

Your hand hovered over the bathroom door handle when you heard a knock on the bedroom door. Thanks to your enhanced abilities, you could hear everything.

“It’s almost time. Is she ready?” Your heart did backflips. Steve. You’d recognize his voice anywhere, even underwater.

“Just have to do the dress,” Peggy responded firmly.

“She’s acting a little weird,” Rebecca added.

You could picture Steve’s brows furrowing in concern. “Nerves? I mean, she’s about to marry the love of her life. I’d be full of them if I were in her shoes.”

“She went for a walk. I think she hit her head. She was a little out of it.”

“Should we call a doctor? Maybe a concussion?” Steve asked, panicked.

Peggy laughed. “Steve, did you forget? I’m a nurse. I checked her over. Let’s just say it’s definitely nerves.”

A nurse? you thought. What the hell?

“Now get out of here! We’ll be ready in five minutes,” Rebecca said loudly, no doubt shoving Steve out.

You sighed, opening the bathroom door. Both their heads turned toward you. Peggy’s eyes immediately went to the red, angry cut on your side.

“Oh my gosh!” they both exclaimed, though with different meanings and tones.

“You look hot! Definitely making me some nieces or nephews tonight,” Rebecca said happily before her face scrunched up. “Ew, I forgot you’re marrying my brother.”

You felt like you could faint. It was confirmed. The you in this timeline still ended up with Bucky.

Peggy rushed forward, her focus on your cut. “I knew you fell!”

Rebecca gasped. “Bucky’s gonna be so mad I let you get hurt!”

“It’s fine, I promise. It doesn’t even hurt. I already cleaned it, Pegs.” You smiled sweetly at her. “Do you have any gauze? I don’t want to get any blood on the dress.”

She scoffed, looking offended before a small smile broke across her face. “Do I have gauze? Gosh, you and Steve really are two peas in a pod, both of you offending me within minutes!”

Peggy bandaged your side with practised ease, her hands steady as she worked. “There, good as new,” she said, standing back to admire her handiwork. She looked into your eyes, her expression softening. “You’re going to be okay… nerves or not, you’ve got this.”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, and Bucky—he’s going to lose it when he sees you. He’s been head over heels for you since… well, forever.”

You forced a smile, your heart heavy with something you couldn’t quite place “Thank you, i-i don’t know what I’d ever do without either of you” This moment felt surreal, which of course it was because it never happened for you, but you took in every moment no matter what because you would never get this again.

Peggy grinned, handing you the wedding dress. “Let’s get you into this, shall we? Can’t keep your groom waiting.”

As you slipped into the dress, the weight of the moment pressed down on you. You were about to walk down the aisle in a universe that wasn’t your own, to marry Bucky, the mixed emotions had you feeling like a child again. You were trained to be an assassin and you were letting everything get to you. Maybe because your heart was still tethered to your own timeline, to your Bucky, and the life you had left behind…the life that was taken from you by Hydra.

Once you were dressed, Peggy and Rebecca stood back, their eyes shining with pride. “You look perfect,” Peggy said, her voice full of emotion.

Rebecca’s eyes misted over. “Bucky’s going to cry when he sees you…we're finally going to be sisters!” She squealed, pulling you into a hug.

Peggy’s eyebrows shot up. “I almost forgot! We got you something.” She turned away, digging through her bag. “And don’t say we didn’t have to, because of course we did.”

Before you could respond, she turned back, holding a tiny white box tied with a little red ribbon. Your hands trembled as you took it from her and carefully untied the ribbon. Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, adorned with two stones—your birthstone and Bucky’s.

“Look on the inside,” Rebecca whispered, her excitement palpable.

You lifted the bracelet, inspecting the engraving on the inner band: Mr. & Mrs. Barnes, June 8th, 1930 - A timeless love.

Your breath hitched. 1930. This timeline was so wrong from yours, everything was different.

“I… I…” you stuttered, overwhelmed.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Peggy said softly, her voice full of warmth. “May I?” she gestured toward the bracelet. You nodded, holding out your wrist as she fastened it around you. “Now you’re ready,” she winked, stepping back.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Let’s do this.”

As you made your way downstairs, the sounds of the wedding day grew louder—music playing softly, the murmur of guests waiting for the ceremony to begin. When you reached the bottom step, you saw Steve waiting for you. But not just any Steve—pre-serum Steve, the version of him you hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime. You couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of him, your Stevie.

His breath caught as he took in your appearance. “You look… stunning,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

You managed a small smile, your eyes welling with tears. “Thanks, Stevie.”

He laughed, a familiar sound that tugged at your heart. “Haven’t heard you call me that in forever. I’ll let it slide because it’s your wedding day.” He offered you his arm. “Ready?”

Of course, he was the one walking you down the aisle. Your parents must be gone in this universe too. “Yeah,” you lied, taking his arm. As you walked toward the backyard, where the ceremony was set to take place, you tried to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You had to keep it together, to play your part until you could figure out how to get back to your own universe.

When you stepped outside, your breath caught. The yard had been transformed into a picturesque wedding venue. Flowers adorned every surface, fairy lights twinkled in the early evening light, and the guests—all familiar faces, people you hadn’t seen in almost a hundred years, people who were gone in your time—turned to watch you. These were slightly different versions of them, but the sight was overwhelming.

But it was the sight of Bucky that nearly undid you. He stood at the end of the aisle, dressed in a sharp suit, his eyes locked on you. There was so much love and admiration in his gaze that it made your heart ache. This moment was everything you ever wanted, everything you dreamed of the day you met Bucky.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to take the first step down the aisle. With each step, the reality of what you were about to do weighed heavier on your heart. By the time you reached Bucky, your emotions were a tangled mess.

He reached out, taking your hand with both of his. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion.

You smiled up at him, trying to ignore the tears that threatened to spill over at the sight of him having both warm, flesh hands. “So do you.”

The officiant began speaking, but his words were a blur in your ears. All you could focus on was Bucky, standing before you, so close yet so far from the man you knew and loved in your timeline. He looked so peaceful, no war behind his eyes, no shadows lurking over him. There was no trauma here.

When it came time to say your vows, Bucky squeezed your hands, his voice steady as he spoke. “Doll, from the moment I met you, I knew you were gonna be my best girl.” He winked, causing you to chuckle. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you, and I’ll continue to love you for the rest of my life. I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited for this day. I’ll remember it forever and cherish every moment we have together.”

His words made your heart clench. How could you possibly say your vows when your heart belonged to another version of this man? But you had to, for the sake of this universe, this timeline. You couldn’t disrupt it any more than you already had. It made your heart ache.

Taking a shaky breath, you began. “Bucky, I… I promise to love you for as long as you’ll let me. I’ll love you in every universe possible. It was always you, it will always be you. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The words felt hollow but carried so much meaning. Bucky’s eyes filled with love and joy, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, Bucky leaned down, capturing your lips in a gentle, tender kiss. The guests cheered, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the kiss, in the love this version of Bucky had for you.

But as the kiss ended, and you pulled back, reality came crashing down around you. You had to find a way back to your own timeline, to your Bucky. You couldn’t live this lie; this wasn’t the life you were meant for, not anymore. You wondered where the you from this timeline was? Where did she go? Would she come back once you were gone? Would it all make sense to her? Would she know everything that happened, or would she just get tossed in? Would the day restart for her? You sure hoped it would because this was her day, not yours. And you knew if it were your day, it would have been the best day of your life. She deserved it.

As the reception began, you excused yourself, slipping away from the crowd. You needed time to think, to figure out how to return to where you belonged. You paced at the front step, the door light flickering on.

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice cut through the silence.

You spun around. “Yeah, Buck?”

He placed his glass down, concern etched on his features. “Are you okay?” His left hand grabbed yours, the warmth of his touch startling you. Not feeling the coldness you were used to was breaking your heart. It felt wrong.

You glanced up at him, those same beautiful blue eyes and perfect pink lips. “Of course, I’m with you.”

He smiled the same smile, his eyes twinkling the same. Nose crinkling the same. He started to lean in. Your heart skipped a beat; this felt wrong. He stopped right before your lips. “Mrs. Y/N Barnes,” he whispered, his voice low. “I can’t tell ya how long I’ve wanted to call you that.”

“You have no idea,” you whispered, the weight of your words almost crushing you.

Then the door burst open. “There you are!” Peggy shouted, holding a very old but likely new-for-this-time camera. She shoved past you down the front steps. “This is perfect, the beautiful couple on their wedding day in their brand-new house!”

This was your house? Jealousy gnawed at you, seeing everything this version of you had. It was so peaceful—everything you had ever wanted but never got, and never would.

Bucky pulled you close to him, his right arm wrapping tightly around your waist, while his left hand reached out to hold your left hand, intertwining your fingers.

“Okay, smile in, 3…2…1!” A giant flash went off, and you heard the mechanism of the camera working before the film popped out. “One more for good measure,” Peggy said before taking another. “This one’s for you two, and this one’s for me.” She handed you the picture before skipping off, clearly tipsy.

Bucky rested his head on your shoulder. “Beautiful…” His voice was low as he kissed your bare shoulder. “Our future kids will love to see this one day.”

“Yeah, they will,” you whispered, barely holding it together.

“Well, wife,” he said, his voice filled with a smile, “we should get back to the party. Don’t wanna keep our guests waiting.”

You turned to face him, forcing a smile. “I’ll meet you back there? I just need to use the restroom.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead before walking off.

You went back to the room where you had originally prepared, locking the door behind you. You sighed, letting a tear fall. The enormity of what had just happened hit you full force. You were married, in a timeline that wasn’t your own, to a man who wasn’t your Bucky. You took the wedding rings off placing them safely on the vanity.

Frantically, you searched for the bag with your Avengers uniform, hoping for something—anything—that could help you get back. That’s when you felt it—thanks to your heightened senses, the faint crackle of static in the air. Panic surged through you as you fumbled with the bag, grabbing your uniform and shoving the wedding picture inside. Anything you were holding should come with you.

Suddenly, the static electricity surged, pulling you into its grip. You were flung through time and space, the world spinning around you.

1958

The disorienting feeling subsided as you landed on solid ground, gasping for air. The sounds of music surrounded you, and the smell of smoke filled your lungs. You looked down at yourself—you were still in the white dress, the bracelet from Becca and Peggy still in a bag clutched in your hand along with your gear and the photo, all still there. You stared at the picture, the image of you and Bucky smiling on your wedding day in that alternate timeline.

But this still wasn’t your timeline. You could tell by the dated cars and the subtle differences in the surroundings. At least something was happening, something that made you feel a bit more at ease. Your friends, your teammates—your Bucky—must be doing something, trying to get you back. Why else would you be in another timeline?

You stopped when you saw a newspaper on the ground, picking it up fast. The date read July 4th, 1958. At least you were moving ahead in time and not backward. You didn’t remember much about 1958 in your timeline; you were either in cryo or being experimented on, just like Bucky. The only thing you knew for sure was that today was Steve’s birthday.

As you walked through the familiar yet different streets, you noticed some stores were still here from when you last remembered, at least in your universe. One, a secondhand shop, caught your eye—a store you didn’t recall existing before. You slipped inside, knowing you had to blend in.

Rummaging through the clothing racks, you found a dress that would have to do. You didn’t have any money, and the thought of stealing made your stomach churn, but you needed to blend in until you were pulled from this timeline, just in case you ran into someone you knew. You didn’t understand much about the multiverse, but you knew enough to avoid tampering with it.

You sighed, grabbing a few more dresses and walking toward the changing room. The man at the counter called out, “How many do you have, Miss?”

You smiled sweetly, holding up three dresses. “Just three, sir!”

He nodded, satisfied, as you entered the changing room. Once inside, you used the moment to breathe. You had to take your time as if you were trying on the other dresses. You slipped the fourth dress on under your wedding dress, checking in the mirror to make sure it wasn’t noticeable. Satisfied, you stepped out, returning the other dresses to the rack.

“No luck?” the man asked.

You shook your head. “Sorry.”

“No worries, ma’am. You have a wonderful day!” he replied cheerfully.

You quickly made your way into an alley, taking off the wedding dress to reveal the more appropriate attire beneath. “Sorry, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, tossing the wedding dress into a dumpster before stepping back out onto the street.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice called softly.

You froze, turning around. “Steve?” How was he still alive? You didn’t know exactly how the multiverse worked, and clearly, any insight you had was completely wrong. The only thing you were sure of was that you weren’t supposed to tamper with anything—or was that time travel? You were so out of your depth.

He looked the same as he did the last time you saw him in the 40s in your timeline. Fashion hadn’t changed drastically, and the Super Soldier Serum had kept him looking youthful. He definitely had seen war, but maybe the jet didn’t go down in this timeline, sparing him from the fate he faced in your own.

“Why do you sound surprised to see me?” He laughed, reaching out to pull you into a side hug, his left arm holding a brown bag. “Doing some shopping?” he asked, nodding toward the bag you were carrying.

You nodded, trying to keep your composure. “You know me,” you shrugged, forcing a smile. Your heart raced, knowing he could likely hear it with his enhanced senses, just as you could hear his.

“Oh! Happy Birthday!” you exclaimed, trying to shift the focus. “How old are you now? Sixty?”

He chuckled, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Oh, ha ha! I’ll have you know I’m not a day over forty!” But his eyes betrayed a sadness before he cleared his throat. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, letting him lead the way. The silence between you was comfortable, as it always was. It didn’t matter what timeline you were in—Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes would always be constants in your life, and vice versa.

As you approached your destination, you froze. A graveyard. There were so many possibilities of who you could be visiting here with Steve—his mother, someone from the war, or… Bucky. The pang in your chest was familiar, the same one you felt all those years ago when you saw Steve walking up to you and Peggy after that fateful day that took your Bucky from you.

Steve gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded solemnly, gesturing for him to lead the way.

When you reached the grave, your breath caught in your throat.

‘James Buchanan Barnes

March 10, 1917 - January 10, 1945

Beloved son, brother, friend, fiancé, hero.’

The sight of Bucky’s name on the gravestone hit you like a punch to the gut. This timeline was too close to what might have been if only Bucky had been taken and not all of you. You never even got to see the headstone of your Bucky. This felt surreal, like a cruel echo of a life you could have lived but never did.

Steve sat down first, patting the ground beside him, signalling you to join him. You placed your bag down and lowered yourself to the ground, your legs feeling heavy. The weight of the moment pressed down on you as Steve pulled out a small box from the bag he was carrying. When he opened it, you gasped softly at the sight of photos, letters, and a ring pinned to a small cushion, kept safe all these years.

Carefully, Steve unhooked the ring and handed it to you. “I know you only like to wear it when we visit him,” he said, his voice gentle, laced with a sadness that matched your own. “When I saw you left it at home today, I grabbed it. I hope that was okay?”

His eyes held such deep emotion that it almost broke you. It was the kind of look that spoke of shared loss, of knowing all too well the pain of losing someone who was a part of your soul.

“Of course, Stevie,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Your hands shook as you slipped the ring onto your finger, its familiar weight both comforting and heartbreaking. Another timeline where you didn’t get what you should have. Another reminder of the love that was taken from you, that you were once so close to having.

You stared at the ring, the symbol of a love that transcended time and space. It was a small, simple thing, but it held the weight of all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. You sat there in silence, mourning a life that never was, when Steve pulled out the photographs, laying them carefully between you.

There were pictures of Bucky and you, of Steve and Bucky, and some of all three of you together. As you looked through them, you let Steve retell the memories behind each one. His voice was soft and steady, grounding you as he recounted moments that felt as if they had happened only yesterday. The photographs were almost identical to the ones you had actually created with the boys in your own timeline, each one a snapshot of a life lived together in friendship and love.

One photo caught your eye, and you reached into the box to pick it up. It was a picture of you and Bucky dressed for prom. You inspected it closely, your eyes tracing every detail. It was exactly how you remembered, right down to the dress you wore, the smile on Bucky’s face, the way his arm was wrapped protectively around your waist.

“He couldn’t believe you actually agreed to go with him,” Steve said, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked at the photo over your shoulder.

You smiled back, the memory warming your heart despite the sadness that lingered. “We had our first kiss that night,” you said, your voice soft with nostalgia.

“And the rest is history,” Steve replied, his tone light but tinged with the same bittersweetness you felt. He smiled, but his eyes were distant, lost in the memory of that night, of a time when everything seemed so much simpler, so full of promise.

“You have no idea,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Steve, as the weight of everything you’d been through settled over you like a shroud. The love you shared with Bucky was more than history—it was a bond that spanned timelines, a connection that not even the chaos of the multiverse could sever.

The two of you sat there in quiet companionship, the silence between you filled with the unspoken understanding of what you had lost and what you had found in each other. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the memories and the unbreakable bond you shared with Bucky—a bond that would endure, no matter what timeline you found yourself in.

Then you felt it. The electricity, the unease of what was about to happen , you know Steve felt it as he stood right up. His protectiveness of you taking over “Stay here” his voice switching over to his Captain America tone, leaking with authority you nodded. You watched him walk off, you grabbed onto your bag with your belongings, putting the photo of Bucky and you before prom in it before dragging you away from the grave, from Steve, from Bucky’s final resting place.

1500s

You landed with a jolt, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest. The world around you slowly came into focus— a garden, a fountain, and a castle? What the hell. The ring was still on your finger, the bag still clutched in your hand, but your surroundings were starkly different.

You were no longer in 1958. You had been pulled into yet another timeline.

But this time, something felt different. This time, you weren’t alone.

A voice behind you, low and familiar, sent chills down your spine.

“What are you doing out here?”

You turned slowly, your breath catching in your throat.

There he stood—Bucky. But there was something different in his eyes, something darker, more intense.

“Bucky?” you whispered, unsure.

He moved swiftly, grabbing you by the arms and hoisting you to your feet. “You shouldn’t be out here, love. They could find you.”

“W-who?”

He stopped pulling you once you were concealed by the dense trees, your back pressed against the rough bark. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you again?”

“N-no? Bucky, what’s going on?” You didn’t like this timeline; everything felt too unfamiliar, too dark, too off.

His hands cradled your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks in a way that was both tender and desperate. This Bucky reminded you more of your Bucky than the others you had encountered—the darkness in his eyes, the shadows that told stories of things seen and done, of battles fought and lost. “Our plan is still set for dawn. If you still want to run away with me… if you’ll still have me.” His voice was laced with urgency and vulnerability. “Steve and Sam have everything ready. We just meet here at dawn, and the boys and I will handle the rest.”

His eyes bore into yours, pleading silently, worried that your hesitation was a sign you had changed your mind. He continued, his voice breaking slightly, “I know I can’t give you a castle or the fancy poofy dresses you hate so much.” You smiled at that— even though this wasn’t exactly you he was talking about, it still sounded like you. “But I promise I’ll love you with everything I have. No one will ever hurt you or lay a finger on you again. I love you… please, doll.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, reaching up to place your hand over his, “of course I’m still with you. It’s always you. There’s no me without you.” Literally, you thought. If only he knew the true extent of what you meant.

He let out the breath he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing. “Okay, okay.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Go back to your room. One small bag with your must-haves, remember? Leave the rest behind. We’ll start over together. Try not to talk to anyone. We meet back here at dawn.”

You nodded, and he smiled—that familiar smile that had followed you through so many timelines. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll see you soon.”

He grabbed your hands, pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles. “I’ll see you soon.” Then he turned, disappearing back into the trees.

You sighed, turning to make your way back to what you assumed was where you lived—a castle, no less. You had to be way back in time. You moved stealthily through the hallways, avoiding anyone you saw, making your way up the stairs. Your enhanced abilities made it easy to hear if people were coming or if a room was occupied, until you found one that seemed like yours. The confirmation came when you stepped inside and noticed a slightly off-looking floorboard. You smiled—of course, you would have a secret hiding spot.

Locking the door behind you, you added extra precaution by wedging a chair under the handle. You knelt by the floorboard and used a letter opener to pry it up, revealing a small bag tucked inside. Opening it, you found mementos, trinkets, but mostly letters.

You carefully unfolded one of the letters, your heart racing as you recognized Bucky’s handwriting. The words were filled with love and hope, speaking of a future you both dreamed of, away from the dangers and the darkness that surrounded you:

My Dearest Love,

Each day apart from you feels like an eternity. My heart aches for you, and every moment without you is a moment lost. When I close my eyes, I see your face, so beautiful and full of light, and when I gaze up at the stars, I find solace in knowing that we are both under the same sky. I see your eyes in every twinkle, as if the heavens themselves reflect the love we share.

Steve has brought troubling news—rumours that your father is pushing you towards marriage with that wretched George. The mere thought of you in his arms is unbearable to me. But hear me now, my love: I will not allow this fate to befall you. You are mine, as I am yours, and nothing in this world will keep us apart.

I have devised a plan, one that will bring us together once and for all. In three weeks’ time, we will be free. Meet me at our secret place, where the willow bends by the riverbank. I will be waiting for you there, ready to take you far from this place, where we can live the life we have dreamed of—together, without fear, without chains.

Until that moment, hold on to the thought of us, of the life we will soon share. Let it give you strength, as your love gives me mine. We will be together, my sweet girl, I swear it to you with all that I am.

Yours, now and forever,

With all the love in my heart,

B.B.

This bag was filled with letters from Bucky to you—hundreds of them. Each one was a testament to the love you shared, a forbidden love that defied the rules of time and space. It was fate. In every timeline, it was fate.

Each letter was a promise, a piece of the life you both yearned for, a life you were determined to reach if you could just make it to dawn.

As you placed the letters back into the bag, your resolve strengthened. The version of you here wasn’t just running away with Bucky—you were running toward the life you both deserved, a life free from the chains of expectations and the weight of secrecy.

You packed a few essentials into the small bag, knowing you couldn’t take much, but also knowing that what truly mattered wasn’t what you left behind, but who you were moving forward with. As you finished, you took one last look around the room—this life, and the person you had been here—aware that in just a few hours, you would be leaving it all behind.

Steeling yourself, you clutched the bag close and whispered to the empty room, “We’ll make it, Bucky. She’ll see you at dawn.”

With that, you slipped out of the room and into the shadows, ready for whatever the future—whatever this timeline—had in store for you.

Once outside, you carefully placed the bag by the tree, hoping that when you were inevitably pulled back through the multiverse, the you from this timeline would replace you in this spot. She would see the bag and know—because she would just know. You couldn’t leave everything behind, though. You slipped one of the letters into the bag you were still hauling around, the one with your Avengers gear, along with the photo of you and Bucky on your wedding day, and the one of the two of you on the way to the dance—the night of your first kiss.

You held the bag tight, feeling the surge of energy building around you. The air crackled with electricity, the atmosphere growing thick with anticipation. You braced yourself as the vortex of yellow and blue hues began to swirl around you, pulling you back into the multiverse.

As the world spun and twisted, you closed your eyes, clutching the letter and photos close to your heart. You didn’t know where you would land next, but one thing was certain—you would find him again. No matter how many timelines you had to traverse, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way, you would always find Bucky. But you wanted your Bucky

So as you were being tossed around you did something different this time, you thought of memories from your timeline. You kept picturing your Bucky. His long hair, his vibranium arm, his eye crinkles, the nose scrunch. His haunting blue eyes, the way his arms feel around you. The way you felt when you were reunited, the way his lips felt on yours.

2024

You crashed into the glass table at the compound, landing with a loud, painful thud. The impact knocked the wind out of you, and black spots danced across your vision. Voices filled the air, overlapping with the ringing in your ears and the pounding in your head. This was different—much worse than any landing in the other timelines. But then again, you hadn’t smashed into a glass table before.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you squinted through the blurriness. The compound slowly came into focus—familiar, yet surreal after everything you’d been through. You tried to gauge how this timeline felt, but your senses were overloaded. Through the haze, you recognized a voice.

“Tony?” you croaked.

His eyes were wide with shock and something you couldn’t quite place—relief? “Holy shit! It worked!” He looked at you, disbelief melting into excitement. “Is this…?” he gestured at you.

Strange stepped forward, his expression calm but with a faint smile. “The timelines are at peace. It’s her,” he confirmed, nodding at Tony before turning to you. “You’re back.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “I’m back,” you whispered, the reality settling in. “I’m really back.” You pushed yourself up, but the dizziness hit you hard. Tony reached out to steady you.

“Your senses might be slightly off as your body readjusts to its proper timeline,” Strange explained, his tone reassuring. “But with your enhanced capabilities, it shouldn’t take long.” He gave Tony a final nod before stepping back into one of his magical yellow portals—what you and Bucky had always called them.

Bucky. The thought of him hit you like a freight train. You turned to Tony, panic rising in your chest. “W-where is he?”

“He’s on his way,” Tony replied quickly. “FRIDAY alerted him. Cap had to get him out of the compound—he was getting hostile. They went for a run.”

You nodded, trying to process everything. “How long have I been gone?”

“Two months,” Tony said gently. “We should get you to medical, get you checked out. You fell through my table, for Christ’s sake.”

“To me, it felt like a few hours,” you muttered, the enormity of it all weighing down on you. No wonder you felt so disoriented—what had been mere hours for you had been two long months here.

“Mr. Rogers, Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Barnes are back,” FRIDAY announced.

“I need to see him first,” you insisted, tears spilling down your cheeks as you pushed past Tony and sprinted toward the direction where you knew Bucky would be coming from.

You could hear all three sets of footsteps. Sam’s were slower, lighter, trailing behind. Steve’s were steady and precise, not far behind. But Bucky’s—Bucky’s were frantic, almost desperate, pounding toward you with an urgency that made your heart race.

When you rounded the corner, you saw them. The sight of Bucky made you stop in your tracks, your bag slipping from your fingers to the ground. Your hands flew to your face as a sob of pure relief escaped your lips. “Bucky.”

They all halted at the sight of you—except Bucky. He didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, pulling you firmly into his arms. His grip was tight, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip away again.

You clung to him just as fiercely, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent that was so uniquely him. “I’m here, Bucky. I’m here,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not letting you go again.”

You stood there in Bucky’s arms for what felt like hours—maybe even an eternity—and you wouldn’t have minded. It was as if time itself had slowed down, letting you savor the moment. When you finally pulled back slightly, your hands traveled up his arms, over the familiar contrast of flesh and vibranium, before resting gently on his face. He held onto your waist firmly, grounding you both in the reality of this moment.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s really you.”

Behind you, Tony’s footsteps approached, a reminder of the world outside your reunion. “Barnes, we need her in medical. She literally fell through my table,” he said, his tone half-joking but mostly concerned.

Bucky nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. He gently took your hand off his face, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles before lacing his fingers with yours. Together, you began to walk toward the medbay.

“Wait!” You suddenly stopped, turning back to retrieve your bag.

“What’s in that?” Steve’s voice came from beside you, his hand resting warmly on your shoulder.

You smiled up at him, reaching into the bag to pull out two photographs and a letter. Handing them to Steve, you watched as he stared at the images in shock before passing them to Bucky, your Bucky. Steve unfolded the letter, his eyes scanning the words that transcended time.

Then, you lifted your left hand, sliding off the ring that had been a symbol across lifetimes. You placed it in Steve’s palm, then removed a bracelet, handing it to Bucky. “There our birthstones,” you said softly, noticing how Bucky’s eyes began to water. “Look inside.”

Bucky’s voice was thick with emotion as he read the inscription aloud: “Mr. & Mrs. Barnes, June 8th, 1930 - A timeless love.”

“Holy shit,” Sam finally spoke, breaking the reverent silence.

You nodded, feeling the weight of all the timelines you had traversed. You glanced at Steve, then back at Bucky, your heart full of certainty. “In every timeline I was in,” you said, your voice steady, “you both were always there.”

Turning fully to Bucky, you let a tear slip down your cheek as you continued, “It’s always been you. Every time, in every world, it was always us.”

Bucky pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you as if he could merge the fractured pieces of time that had kept you apart. “And it always will be,” he whispered into your hair, his voice filled with unshakeable conviction.

In that moment, surrounded by the people who had been with you in every timeline, every reality, you knew that your journey through the multiverse had finally led you home. There was no more running, no more searching. You were where you were meant to be—with the person you were always meant to be with.

It was a love that had defied time, space, and every obstacle the universe had thrown your way. And now, standing in the place where it all began, you knew it would last forever.

[b1rds3ye]

AASAABSJS I'm so glad your requests are openn!!!! I seriously love the way you write for the characters! I think your writing is so in character an ARHBAHHA 😍😍🤩🤩🥰🥰SO may i request how the 141 boys react when the see their s/o has made them in the sims? Like they see him and his s/o in their little sims family. Idk I thought it would be cute.

Love you! Don't rush and take care of yourself 💗💗💖💖💋

I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME ALMOST TWO MONTHS ASDKFJASDKF MY BRAIN WAS NOT BRAINING WITH THIS PROMPT

Look, It’s Us!

How the 141 boys react to you making you, them and a potential family in the Sims (+ other little gaming shenanigans)

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Genre: Pure Fluff

Word Count: 1.2k (~400 words each)

A/N: Gotta confess, I’ve never actually played the Sims before ACK-

Captain John Price

It’s not often, but Price will occasionally play the Sims when he truly has nothing else to do. He’s not particularly creative with it though, just lets the game randomly generate a character and then lives their life with the quirks they have. Still, good fun!

John figured you’d play the opposite to him, testing the limits of the game and torturing your Sims with that simultaneously wonderful and terrifying mind of yours - beyond the army John doesn’t have the creativity to turn Sims into experiments that violate human rights. So imagine his pleasant surprise when he notices you playing relaxedly with a whole family that looked like you and him, taking the greatest care in making sure everything goes well

“Having fun there, love?” he smiles, looking over your shoulder. When you zoom in on the little Price you made in the Sims and then comment how it’s not nearly as handsome as the real thing, he swears you’re single-handedly warming up this jaded heart of his

He could watch you all day as you tinker on the game, but he naturally acts as your anchor. He doesn’t care if this is just a Sims version of you, you are not hijacking that spaceship and blasting off to god knows where! Ultimately he can’t stop you but the conversations that have come out of your antics are very entertaining

John nods along as you animatedly talk about the little virtual family you made. Whether it’s the family itself or your choices in customising the home, he’s listening and he’s remembering. He might not have infinite money like when you’re playing with cheats but it’s in his nature to give you his all, and he won’t stop giving until he’s made an imitation of your dream on the screen

Simon “Ghost” Riley

He hasn’t touched the game, he’s not particularly interested but he’ll definitely be around you when you play. Simon will be doing his own thing, but upon hearing the signature background music of the Sims you’ll see the slightest bop of his head

It was one day, he walked past you, his eyes flickering on the screen while you zoomed up on a character with features suspiciously like his. He watches silently as you zoom out, and there’s a character that looks like you as well and- is that a kid?

“Looks nothin’ like us,” he says simply at the family. “Not my fault you don’t have an imagination,” you stick out your tongue. “I’ll install some mods for more customisation.” He was just cracking a joke but it’s endearing how seriously you take your virtual counterparts

Simon doesn’t just observe the family, he also observes the rest of what you’ve customised. Is that your dream house? Ah, it seems you like that style of furniture. Simon will keep that in mind the next time you have to go shopping, or will find small gifts for you with the same general aesthetic

Has the uncanny ability to speak simlish - or at least replicate the sounds. It sounds straight from the game, you have no idea how he picked it up or why. If you ask he says it’s because “you’re bloody addicted to playin’ that thing”. All you know is that if one of the Sims shouts out something Simon will actually grumble out a response under his breath

Your Sims family has become a little mental vision board for Simon. To keep fighting to return home, to slowly but surely clean up the mess that is his broken mind until he can guarantee a future with you that is equally as tranquil and colourful as the little pixels on your screen

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny loves his action and exhilarating games, shooters, horror, you name it. As such, he doesn’t play Sims much but if he does, he’s treating his randomly generated sims as human lab rats

Roasts your character customisation to hell and back. Johnny’s gripping onto you, shaking you back and forth, dramatically whining about how his eyes aren’t that specific shade of blue, his mohawk isn’t that big and you’ve got his nose all wrong- what are you doing?!

He’ll complain but if you actually give him controls he’ll customise his own character to look noticeably worse. Just don’t ever give him access to this game because he’ll also make your character look nothing like you

That being said, Johnny gets really into the little family you’ve made. He’s actively discussing with you the furnishings that should be used in the house, if your virtual child should be a ghost hunter or a fortune teller, and if you need a bathroom break he’s ensuring no one sets the virtual house on fire

You better not tell Johnny that you’ve added pets into the virtual family because Johnny is already out the door to the nearest animal shelter. If there are things that these stupid little Sims have that is easy to get or Johnny already wanted, he will get

At the odd moment, you’ll catch Johnny getting quite sentimental over the game. Working in the army is chaotic, never mind his actual role as demolitions expert, it’s hard for him to ever imagine a day where he settles down. But watching you fret over whether this virtual couch should be placed on the left or right side of the living room has him looking forward to that day (by the way you should put the couch towards the back)

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has honestly tried every game under the sun if it’s casual and entertaining enough, from PVP shooters to laid-back simulators. If you’re not playing Sims, then he will be. But if you’ve beaten him to the punch he doesn’t make you stop, only sitting back and watching you keenly, commentating and giving you suggestions

He’s actually been part of the creative process since Day 1, when you made Sims versions of you and him, he tried to find the character customisation features that best resembles yours, but could only lament that he couldn’t make your Sim look as good looking as you

He loves starting off the game where your respective Sims are strangers, going through all the motions of wooing you all over again, proving to you that no matter the context Kyle will win your heart. You may have to comfort him with cuddles if your Sim version rejects his Sim’s advances though

Once your Sims are together, this little flirt will tell you that your Sims need more kids knowing full well what that implies

Kyle likes provoking you a little, discreetly suggesting using the ugliest pieces of furniture available in making your house. When you bite back that you’re going to make sure this house looks perfect, he’ll eventually relent after begging with his signature puppy-dog eyes

He’s memorised some of the Sim’s spoken dialogue, particularly the romance lines spoken in that exaggerated flirty tone. He’ll say it to you out of the blue sometimes, causing you to burst out into giggles

The game is all fun and, well, games, but it doesn’t stop Kyle from looking forward to the future. You might not have access to the grim reaper, you may never be able to build a pool surrounded with toilets in real life, but he’s excited to create his own little home and family with you, whatever it may look like

Call of Duty Masterlist

[istoleyoursk1n]

How do you think the companions would react to a Tav that's shorter then them but physically capable of carrying them around be it over the shoulder or princess style carry?

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a short Tav who could carry them easily?

(I’ve made brief mentions of this type of scenario in a previous post so you may check that out as well.)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“My, my, if you would've done this for me sooner, I’d be swooning much more quickly than you realize, you know that darling? Now be a dear and carry me over there!”

He would have been the one teasing you/urging you to try and lift him up in the assumption that you simply cannot. He was merely messing with you at the time.

Though, he didn't think you’d actually do it.

He would be startled by your offer/assurance that you would be able to lift him up without so much as a struggle which he then laughed at, not believing a word you say but allowing you to try anyways.

He was just about to say another snarky remark the moment your hands were on him but the words quickly fell flat on his lips the moment you managed to carry him in your arms.

You've never seen him so wide-eyed and confused than this very moment.

His mind would be too muddled on whether he should continue to be snarky or at least show how surprised he actually is about the whole situation.

Probably ends up being both snarky and impressed because his mind was too much of a mess at that very moment.

Besides, there's a strange sense of security he feels when he has your arms wrapped around him like some sort of shield.

Regardless, he now demands you to carry him like a princess for however long you can as he’d prefer not to walk throughout the entirety of your tiring journey.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“Are you- am I- are you carrying me?! By the hells, am I not as heavy as I thought I was? Or are you that ridiculously strong? Ha! Though, I can’t say I’m against this at all!”

Was a bit apprehensive when you offered to carry him, he was afraid that he might crush your poor arms with his own weight.

Definitely needed you to reassure him three times before he finally agreed. It's not that he wasn't confident in your abilities (sort of), he just wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself.

Was quite shocked when you did manage to lift him so easily, so much so that an awkward little laugh escaped from his lips.

This was certainly a situation he never thought he’d find himself in.

Even so, that awkward little laugh soon turns into a genuine one, his grin is one of the many things that drive you to carry him for as long as he wants.

He can't stop laughing at the absurdity of the moment but he has no qualms, in fact, he's having a blast!

Now you’re both off being absolute goofballs with Wyll playfully referring to you as his own ‘knight in shining armor’. The scene alone would be sweetly sickening to anyone who caught a glimpse of it.

While he’d never ask for you to carry him again (he’s far too worried about exhausting you), he’d always be willing to find himself lifted in your arms once again if not but a temporary relief from the hard journey ahead.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Well. I never quite envisioned myself being in this particular predicament… there seems to be a handful of lovely little experiences that I have yet to indulge in, this included. Now, how do you suppose I’d get down?”

Similar to Wyll, he was a tad bit apprehensive when you first proposed such a thing to him. He wasn't quite confident that you had the ability to carry him nor did he really think he wanted to be.

It would take a tad bit more convincing to get him to be on board with it.

He keeps reminding you of the worst-case scenario where you’d find yourself with broken arms and him with a broken back. Truly something he isn't looking forward to.

He probably closed his eyes the moment you lifted him off the ground, half expecting to fall to the ground right then and there.

His limps were all over the place, grasping at what he could to the point where it landed him in an awkward position. It was fairly obvious that he hadn't been carried like this before.

He was pleasantly surprised when he found himself up in the air in your arms. At first, he thought that this may have been the work of some sort of strength elixir but he had faith in you.

It doesn't take long for him to become a flustered disaster who doesn't quite realize what to do or say. He’s in your arms and he’s far too close, he’s being far too awkward about this and it’s rather amusing to watch.

He’s simply holding on as tightly as possible, asking again and again if you are certain that this isn't something you struggling with. I mean, is he truly this light?

If he wasn't smitten with you before then he sure as hell is now. It would take him a while to come around to ask to be carried again but when he does so, he does it with the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“No fucking way! I’m up in the air?! Me?! You can lift me?! Bloody hell you're a strong one, soldier. Never thought big ol’ Karlach could be so easily swept off her feet. Gotta repay you for that one!”

She believed that there was no way in hell you’d be able to carry her. She would have crushed you the moment you tried.

Even so, she agreed, it doesn't hurt to try after all. Besides, she's a tad bit curious about herself. However, she does constantly remind you of how heavy she is and to let go if it's something you truly can't do.

She would have backed out last minute to save you if it weren't for the fact that she suddenly felt her feet lift from the ground below.

She would be surprised that your little form somehow has the power to lift her, she’d think it's the coolest thing ever! She's practically laughing her ass off from having you carry her around.

This is the most fun she’s had in a while and she hopes for it to last for as long as your body could handle. Both of your combined laughter would be enough to startle the entirety of the camp.

Right after she’d be more than happy to carry you as well! Consider it a favor after doing the same thing to her. You’ll be having free piggyback rides for days to come! In exchange of free carries from you of course.

She’ll never not laugh every time you pick her up. She's felt so strong and impenetrable most of her life until you came over swooping her off the ground like it was nothing. It makes her fiery heart soar.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“My hero, and just when I thought I’d have to use a quick healing spell or two. I suppose I don't mind playing myself as the ‘damsel in distress’ if that means I get to end up in your arms.”

She wasn't quite on board with the whole idea of you picking her up just yet. She was confident that you’d drop her and you’d end up falling alongside her.

Though eventually, she did come around to it, not that it took too much convincing. She was a Cleric so if both of you ended up hurt somehow, she’d be there to heal both of you.

She was very careful with choosing how she’d like to hold you just before you lifted her up. She tried to get into the most comfortable position possible that would cater to both you and her.

She was delightfully surprised when you did manage to lift her up in your arms, a warm smile plastering itself across her face from witnessing such a shocking act of strength from you.

If this isn't the perfect moment for her to tease you then you are greatly mistaken because she would be teasing you relentlessly for as long as you keep her in your grasp.

Even so, it's all in good fun. She finds herself loving how feather-light she seems in your hold, reassured that you wouldn't drop her despite her previous apprehensions.

She’d never doubt your abilities again in this case, and she’d be more than willing to be held within your strong embrace once more.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. The fact that your arms remain intact is a surprise. Still. I am capable of walking on my own if carrying me like this was your plan. Your strength is noted but I’d rather set onwards with my head held high and my feet on the ground.”

Her immediate answer was no.

She’d think of it to be a rather stupid idea, she didn't even believe that there would be a slight chance of you carrying her properly.

It would take a lot of convincing for her to ever allow you to carry her with her consent. Doing so without it would result in her punching you right in the face. Ingrained reflexes I suppose.

She’d be annoyed but she’d reluctantly agree when the moment comes around. However, she would make a blatant reminder that if you were to be crushed, it was over your own stupidity.

She instantly tensed the moment you lifted her off the ground, her eyes went wide, and she couldn't believe that she was somehow being lifted by you.

She also generally hasn't been lifted before and she doesn't completely realize how she should be feeling about it. It's strange, and it definitely takes her a while to relax.

Eventually, she’d finally sprinkle some form of praise onto you, seeming rather impressed by your bold display of strength. She might even find it somewhat attractive that you could so easily lift her up.

It would take a while to get used to but I doubt she’d be against it anymore. Your strength is truly a perk of yours that should never go overlooked and she thankfully realizes this now.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“Oh! Well isn't this quite the shocker? Not only do you have a strong heart but it appears that you have strong arms too, haha! And just when I thought I’d undergone everything life had to offer.”

He thought you were joking with him at first. There was no way you’d be able to carry him, he's never seen anyone successfully do so either.

Perhaps he’d let you try if not for his own amusement/pity, but he pretty much was certain that you’d hardly have the strength to lift him an inch off the ground.

Of course, this wasn't to undermine you, but he knew all too well that a man of his stature couldn't possibly be carried like some sort of fairytale Princess.

Safe to say that he was utterly baffled the moment you began to lift him. In all his years alive he has never once encountered someone who was able to carry him with the use of their raw brute strength.

The first thing that came to his mind was worry, he wasn't sure how long you’d be able to hold him or if this was too much. He understands how heavy he is and he’d be absolutely devastated if he were to accidentally crush you.

As fun and ridiculous as this all was, Halsin would be too concerned about somehow crushing you down with his weight so you wouldn't be carrying him for long.

After a few shared laughs, he’d be the one to politely request to be let down. Softly asking if you are okay and hoping that carrying him wasn't too tiring.

Nevertheless, he’s enamored by your display of strength and the new experience truly did make his heart skip a beat. Now there's yet another peculiar thing about you he’d add to his reasons for adoring you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[louroth]

IT IS UPDATE TIME! For those of you who missed the dirty draft in the discord, the original play link has now been updated with 35 thousand words and two chapters sizzling with exposition, and heated rivalry. I'm so excited!

Here's what's new:

Before we start, it took some honest critique for something to click for me, plot wise. I have been meandering with the plot, partly because I had no idea what I was even doing, and part because I really wanted to meander around in this new medium. But, the plot I have planned is very high octane and epic in scale so I don’t want to bore you to death before we get to the good stuff.

So, don’t hunt me for sport when I tell you that (for the time being) I have removed the entire section of RO 101’s. I was so stubborn with shoehorning them in for the better part of a year, leading to writer's block and utter despair since it just wouldn’t fit; it wasn’t how you were supposed to learn about the RO’s. I have put them aside for now and tweaked Lenas scene once more so that it flows better- I am hemming and hawing over Id’s 101 because that one actually makes sense to have there, plotwise. It might go back in where it was, but I am still thinking about it.

Ok, for real this time though:

The scenes where you scream and your RO busts down the door Kool-Aid man style are there now.

A meeting with Oma and a blast from your [origin] past!

A whole chapter of lies and deceit, but it could literally be anyone lying. Careful who to trust.

Is that… [REDACTED]?? Surely not.

Another chapter where you get to choose your weapons and the way the Surge manifests with your hunter.

On topic of the surge, the magic in Ouro, it is now a default for all players; you can choose from 4 different classes. The Battlefrenzied Zealot, The Beastmaster, The Etherweaver or The Vox Psion. I had a terrible time writing the codexes for these classes, so some are partial and others missing, but if you continue you will experience them in actual action-scenes instead, weaponized. Don't forget to save! For now, each class comes with its own weapon, but I will add more whenever extra time strikes, or when the draft is done.  I am going to remind you as I remind myself: This draft will get rougher around the edges, a little bit messy, as I am going to try to just draft the whole thing without even looking back. It will make my life so much easier when it comes to figuring out key scenes and motivations. While I wrote quite slowly as I treated OUROBOROS as a hobby, now I am working on it, which means skipping content I cannot think of on the spot just to keep the ball rolling. If you don't want to read the alpha draft, please wait with reading until the edited twine demo is out. Thank you!!

Now, ENJOY!

[doppel-doodles]

It's doodling time fellas

I wanted to give myself a bit of a challenge so I decided to draw the ocs of a few people here on tumblr, with the added challenge of doing it fast-

Minimal erasing and redoing, basically whatever is slapped on the page first sticks whether I like it or not. And there is a little time limit on how much I can spent on each character so that I don't get distracted as easily.

Just a little exercise so that hopefully it'll get easier for me to throw down a sketch using few lines and not taking literal hours-w-" I know everyone has their own pace but I would like to be a faster artist.

Anyway my yapping aside and without further delay: The girlies💚💗💜❤

Now to who these lovely gals belong to:

Haiyang: @riptide-pools

Nawa: @auburnitzy

Suki: @peachy-puddin-cup

An he: @lumidotexe

For anyone interested I'll include some thoughts on each of these below the cut:>

Haiyang

The first one I did and I think it shows>~> I was basically more focused on just figuring out how I wanted to do this so I spent less time and energy on how I wanted the character to look in my style. In the end I settled on doing the basic shapes in pencil and then switching to colored fine liners for details.

With the colors also matches the way I draw digitally just a tiny bit more! Buuuut if I end up doing this again I definitely wanna redraw her, I wanna do this gorgeous character justice after all!/'w'/

Suki

Suuuuukiiii! I did draw her before so I decided to do this version, which I believe to be just her shadow form! While drawing I didn't actually give myself time to look it up cause ya know, no distractions which is why there is a question mark-

But my stupidity aside- here is where I started drawing a lot faster, I was in the zone if you will, so I spent what time I had left adding some variation to the line art. I do like this one and honestly she would probably be so much fun to render digitally so I'll see if I can if there is time:>

Nawa

NOW THIS IS WHERE THE FUN REALLY BEGAN-

Nawa just was such a blast honestly, probably because I was getting really comfortable at this point and let myself play around more with how I stylise the characters! I love me some funky eyes, its probably the most recognisable part of my style.

Also granted I don't know much on Nawa yet(fake fan I'm sorry-/j) I only recently followed the creator so I need to find time to just really browse through their blog and consume all the knowledge there is, but once I do I'll be unstoppable!>:D

An He

Last but certainly not least we finish with An He, who was a just a chill and nice lil drawing perfect to round out this doodle session-w- now I have actually read ERHS(shameless plug, read it it's so good- just need to find my attention span as I haven't caught up with it SOBS) so I have more knowledge on her.

For that reason I attempted to do a slimmer face shape, i wanted her built overall to read as visibly more thin and petite. Along side that I went for rings in her eyes as an allusion to sound waves as I didnt just wanna drop in a music note and call it a day.

however maybe I'll experiment more another time because I just dont think it reads that well:'<

That concludes my silly ramblings! Thanks for sticking around and if any of the creators of these lovely ladies see this- YOU HAVE AMAZING CHARACTERS AND I HOPE I DID THEM JUSTICE!- ahem.

If I do this again I'll definitely go for some male ocs as well for the sake of variety, it was a happy accident that I only drew girls here.

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) | chapter two: wednesday

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, lots of angst in this one, use of she/her pronouns, allusions to sex, eventual smut, smoking (plz remember smoking is injurious to your health, ppl), avoidance tactics, mentions of al-anon, no use of y/n, second person pov, mentions of death/mikey's suicide

word count: 3.3k

summary: while you get to know the kitchen staff of the bear a little better, you and carmy finally acknowledge the elephant in the room.

a/n: the song 'about you' by the 1975 makes me think of these two and is where the title comes from. also, i totally made up the pete has an airbnb thing but i just feel like he'd be in real estate or something with his little patagonia vests lol. anyways, happy valentine's day babes & enjoy!

read: part one | masterlist

Wednesday 

“Okay, this is some next level shit,” Marcus concludes, in between chews as he tries the brioche donuts you let rise overnight. “It’s got everything I like about the yeast donut but the flavor is so much more pronounced.”

“Carmy said you knew how to throw down but.”

Sydney nods, taking another bite of hers, and you watch as Fak holds the donut up to his ear, letting out a wild, “Wow.”

“Oh fuck,” Sydney practically groans, the salty-sweet flavors of the caramel hitting her taste buds.

Last night, pre-dinner shift, you were introduced to the colorful cast of characters that filled up this kitchen. There was Richie, Carmy’s not-biological-cousin cousin, and Tina, who’d been working in this kitchen since before any of you were born. And Neil the handyman, who somehow actively chose to go back his last name, Fak, which puzzled you. Then there was Ebrahim, who seemed to serve as the meat prep cook and the onsite first-aid guy. And Sydney, the brilliant sous who’d worked in fine dining kitchens till she came here, eager to learn from Carmy. 

It was a far cry from the kitchens you and Carmy used to work in but this kitchen there were similarities… things every kitchen has. Everyone has their own little quirks, preferences, styles…. 

They’re just a little more, well, allowed to be themselves and while overwhelming, you find it refreshing as well.

Fak smells the donut next, followed by another ‘wow,’ and your eyes widen as Fak begins licking just the icing. 

“Wow,” Fak repeats, carrying on his more-than-peculiar behavior. 

“Is he-?” you start, sharing a look with Sydney next. 

…alright? Is this normal? Is he okay?

“Yeah, sometimes we just let him–,” Sydney tries to explain, but she’s not quite sure how to explain Neil Fak to anyone outside of their ecosystem. 

“Okay.”

“Anyways, so this is just a personal preference and perhaps a symptom of too much time spent in fine dining, but I like to fuck around with weird flavors,” you continue to explain, in reference to the salty miso caramel creme pat you’ve filled the donut with. 

“I’m not much for too sweet-of-sweets,” you announce, earning a laugh from Marcus and Sydney. “... which yes, is a very odd thing to say for a pastry chef. So I like to find combinations that cut the sweetness of anything and give the taste buds another experience at the same time.”

“Which isn’t the direction you have to take your pastries, chef.”

Marcus shakes his head, “No, this is… super cool. And I like it a lot.”

“I apologize in advance if I sound like a total loser,” Sydney starts, placing her donut down on the paper towel. “But when I was at the CIA, I actually had your lemongrass creme brulee.

“With the black sesame ice cream?”

“And the sesame crumble.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaim. What a blast from the past. “Yeah, I had to fight hard to get some of those ingredients on the menu. You know. Before everyone thought it was cool to do shit like that.”

Sydney smiles in agreement, going back for more of her donut. 

“So what’re we workin’ on next, chef?” Marcus asks. He has his notebook out and has a few renderings drawn up with ideas he had last night. 

“Well now that we’ve built a great brioche together, I’d love to keep practicing your piping technique and-,” you begin, stopping mid sentence as Carmy joins the three of you. 

“Mornin’, chef! Hey, try this,” Marcus greets, ecstatic about the results of just a day of working with you, as he hands Carmy a donut. 

He takes it, immediately taking a bite. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he processes and dissects every single flavor note he experiences. You’re all quiet as you wait for his response. 

And honestly, you’re still pretty pissed off about him leaving you hanging the day before. After you and Marcus finished up your prep, you had made your way back to your airbnb – the one he set you up in when he asked you to come here. 

You had tried your best not to feel like a total loser as you hoped he'd reach out with an explanation. No call, no text, no nothing, wondering why he asked you to come in the first place. 

Carmy takes his time savoring his first bite. 

“I almost forgot how good you are at this,” he compliments, his tone neutral as if it’s just a fact. 

“Thank you, chef,” is all you say back to him. You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze, and continuing to go over today’s bake with Marcus. 

You don’t mean to ignore Carmy, but you’re not sure how to act around him either. One minute he’s ignoring you, and the next he’s making you breakfast. And then he’s standing you up, leaving in the hands of his brash cousin? Maybe, you think to yourself, it’s best to keep things professional between the two of you. 

*

You work with Marcus till an hour or so into the lunch shift. You both agreed to start your days early, since you’re only here for a week, so that you could cram as much knowledge in as possible.

Marcus asks if he can take point on flavor pairings for tomorrow’s donuts, and you agree, before parting ways till later this evening. You’ve got to come back later today from one more late night prep. 

You haven’t spoken much to Carmy at all since he came in. As much as you’ve tried to focus all of your attention on working with Marcus, Carmy has a commanding presence as he expedites. He’s got something most chefs don’t – true leadership – and it seems like his skills have only improved since he left New York. You gather up your things, preparing to take the subway home for a midday nap, heading out the back door. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were… out here,” you gasp. You're surprised to find Carmy sitting behind the shop, sitting a few stacked crates and smoking a cigarette.

Well, that part isn’t surprising – the smoking part. You contemplate taking a seat next to him and asking him for one, but you’re really trying to cut back these days.

“It’s-, you’re good,” he says, taking another drag. He exhales smoke and the eery feeling of deja vu overtakes you.

Instead of leaving, and continuing this game of avoidance, you stand your ground.

“Are you avoiding me?” you finally muster up the courage to ask. You try your best not to sound as angry with him as you are, to no avail, as more words begin tumbling out of your mouth. “Because, if I recall correctly, Carmy, you asked me to come out here.”

Carmy waits a beat, avoiding your gaze, and it only infuriates you further. You watch as he takes another hit off of the cigarette as you continue, your rage boiling up within you.

“I don’t get it!” you exclaim, shaking your head in pure disbelief. You’re trying your best not to shout. “You ask me to come out here, and make it as easy as possible for me to be here by putting me up in this airbnb, you make me breakfast, and then… what? It’s like-, it’s like I don’t exist?” 

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s always been like this with you. One step forward and five steps back.” 

You wait before saying the next thing. 

You’re not trying to be mean, but you’re hurt, and this whole experience has all been so confusing. 

“I guess I was fucking idiot to believe that you-, that you wanted me out here or something.”

“That’s not true,” Carmy denies, finally breaking his silence. Finally looking at you, even if just for a moment. His eyes return to the concrete pavement below him as he says, “I just-.”

You don’t want to scare him away now that he’s finally talking to you, but you also want answers. And there’s an elephant in the room that maybe, if you both just acknowledged it, could go away. He puts his cigarette out on the cement beneath his feat, tossing it away onto the concrete.

You lower your voice before speaking again. 

“Are you… do you still feel weird about what happened between us?” you ask cautiously, eager to fix whatever the hell it is between the two of you. “Because I didn’t think we’d have to talk about it since, well-, I just thought we said we’d just forget it. I mean, I’m not-, I don’t-, I just don’t want things to be this weird between us, Carm." 

In some ways, you don’t blame him. You had seen him at his absolute lowest: the day Mikey died. You wonder if he felt too ashamed of how vulnerable he had been. You wondered if he still felt weird about what had happened next….

You had argued with him that day – practically demanded that he not go in for dinner service that night. You knew he had wanted a distraction, but after the phone call, after learning what Mikey had done, you knew he was wrecked – even if he wouldn’t admit it. That level of denial couldn’t be healthy, but he'd snapped at you and you didn't think there was much you could do about it. It didn’t take long for him to blow up at a line cook mid-shift, and you had quickly ushered him into the walk-in. 

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you had chastised him. “Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?” 

Carmy had grabbed at his chest, and you knew he was having one of his breathing episodes. 

“Carmy, are you o-?"

He’d held out his hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you’d left him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in filled your ears, reinforcing your exact reasons why you hadn't thought it was a good idea for him to come in that night.

That night, you had made sure he got home okay, and he’d practically begged you to stay with him. It hadn’t been the first time you’d slept in the same bed, and you knew he was at his lowest point, in need of company. It hadn’t been until he started crying – sobbing really – that he finally broke.

“Carm,” you had whispered, unsure if he wanted you to acknowledge it or not. 

“Carmy.” 

He had turned to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body. You had never seen him like that as he’d buried his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. 

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you had whispered, over and over again. You stroked his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you knew there wasn’t much you could do. You’d let him cry, continuing to run your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort your could.

When he finally looked up, all he could think to do was to kiss you. You had been taken aback -- caught off guard as you'd pulled away from him.

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you had said, pushing him away. 

At that moment, his eyes were swollen, his face red, and he looked like you had just kicked his puppy. He had leaned his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, and you’d felt that he’d put you in an impossible position. 

You’d have been lying if you said you hadn’t wanted it – hadn’t thought about it before – but Carmy had never given you any inkling that he was even interested in dating anyone. You had been perfectly fine being ‘just friends’ with him despite the whispers between the kitchen staff when no one thought you were listening. And now? You knew he wouldn’t be in the right headspace. It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you’d apologized softly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence had only made you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” was all he'd said, breaking his silence and looking up at you with those sad, swollen blue eyes. He leans in to kiss you once more. 

“Please.”

In between kisses you’d managed to ask, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he whispered, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he had left on your skin. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good.”

It was then that you’d realized what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. 

The truth was that you were fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other. 

“Yes,” you’d repeated, finally giving into him.

Even though it should’ve been a beginning, it felt like an end, but for one night, you’d indulged the both of you. 

“I know,” he says, his voice pulling you back into the present. His eyes are fixated on the pieces of gravel that sat between his feet. Even though you both agreed to it, he hadn’t forgotten about what happened between the two of you and he’s not sure if he should tell you that too. 

But that’s not what’s wrong. It’s not why he’s avoiding you. Or maybe it’s part of it. He hadn’t expected seeing you to be this hard. That it would bring it all back – wanting you – so much so that those incredibly big feelings had sent him running to a meeting. 

He just needed a place to be unapologetically fucked up. 

He’s not sure what he thought would happen – like you’d just fall into the same old rhythm of your friendship without a care in the world. 

He’d called Sydney yesterday and he could barely breathe. Sydney had told him to take the night off – that it wouldn’t help to come back to the kitchen that night – and that he had a whole week of you to prepare for. To figure this shit out. 

“I um,” he starts. He’s not sure why it’s so hard to get these words out; why it feels so difficult to tell you. “I’ve kinda been going to these al-anon meetings…ever since, well you know… since I got home.”

“Oh.”

Well that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say. You’re not sure what you were expecting him to say. That he hates you? That he couldn’t stand being in the same kitchen with you and yesterday brought it all back? That it was a mistake reaching out to you?

You sit down on the curb, next to Carmy, leaving plenty of space between the two of you. 

“My sister nagged me to go. Thought it was bullshit but… I don’t know why I kept going back. I still go three times a week.” 

You stare at the ground, not sure what to say next. All that comes out is:

“Well I feel like an asshole.”

He scoffs, moreso to himself, “No, you’re not. I-, I’m sorry. I should’ve-.”

You can tell he’s frustrated as he huffs, “I don’t know why this is so hard for me to tell you.”

You sigh, scooting a hair closer to your old friend. 

“I don’t know either, Carm. I-, we used to tell each other everything.”

“I know.” 

You catch his gaze, your eyes meeting with his, and it feels like you can’t breathe for a moment. 

“I should’ve called. Should’ve kept in touch. Guess I just feel like-, I don’t know,” Carmy admits, regretfully. “I know I’ve been….”

“Uh huh. You’ve been….” you trail off. 

“But I do. Want you here.”

And that’s the problem, he thinks to himself.

“I know I’ve been a dick. I shouldn't have-.”

You take a breath, processing all of it. 

“Can we… not have this conversation again?” you ask, taking a lighter tone this time. “I mean, we sorta had a very similar conversation to this yesterday… and now today… like… are you gonna stop being such a fuckin’ weirdo or what?”

He lets out a small laugh, “Yeah. Yeah I-, I’m gonna stop, well, you know.”

You chuckle in response, continuing to tease him, “Good because… you know usually when your friend comes to town you hang out a little, catch up, say hey hello how are you? I mean, maybe I’m totally out of pocket for this, but sometimes, you know… they even hug. Yeah, Carm, like, normal people.”

“Oh fuck you,” he mutters, jokingly. 

It’s quiet between the two of you, but for the first time in the last 48 hours, it's not weird. It’s a familiar quiet intimacy – something that reminds you of the before times. 

Before Mikey died.

Before you hooked up. 

“Hey, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to be here too,” you reassure in response to what he said earlier, bumping your shoulder up against his, playfully, earning the slightest smile from him. 

“How’s the place?”

“Surprisingly, very nice,” you answer, a mischievous tone in your voice like you know it’s going to start something. 

“What? You think I’d put you up in a shit place?” Carmy asks, feigning offense. 

“I’ve been in your New York apartment, Berzatto. Which is mostly why we spent most of our days off at mine,” you continue. 

He laughs dryly in response. 

“My brother-in-law manages a few airbnbs so… it’s the least I could do for… you know… you comin’ out here,” he explains. 

“Well thanks. It’s-, it’s great.” 

*

“I gotta get out of here early, and pick up the kid. Have a goodnight, sweetheart,” Richie says to you, about to head out of the restaurant. 

“Richie, what the fuck did I fuckin’ tell you about saying shit like that!” Carmen shouts back at his cousin, with an eye roll. 

“So sorry,” Richie says sarcastically, emphasizing your name after. “Gotta woke-ify everything in front of Carmen. Just a little baby.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carmy yells across the kitchen, moving quickly through the closing shift chores. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie brushes off Carmy’s comment with an eye roll. 

“See you fucks tomorrow.”

“This look good, chef?” Marcus asks you, motioning for you to come over and take a look at the mixer. 

You reach down into the mixer, checking the dough for texture. 

“Yeah, looks good. Go ahead and grab a few sheet pans so we can shape these and we’ll cover ‘em so they can proof overnight,” you order, Marcus nodding in response. 

“Thank you, chef.” 

As Marcus disappears, in search of a few sheet pans, Carmy’s wiping down one of the prep stations. 

“Hey, you,” you say, a smile on your face as soon as you see him. 

After your talk this afternoon, things feel lighter. He feels lighter. 

“Hey,” he says, finishing up with his cleaning duty before making his way over to you. Carmy checks to see that Marcus hasn’t come back yet, and you notice.

“Great dinner service, huh?” you congratulate. 

“We’re gettin’ there,” he replies. “Smoothest it’s been so far. Since the reopen.”

Ah yes. The reopen. You’re still waiting to hear that story. 

“I was thinkin’, maybe we could do that catch up thing? Over a drink?” Carmy proposes, changing the subject, and you think to yourself that it’s the most confident you’ve ever seen him. 

“I-,” you start, as Marcus makes his way back towards the pastry area. “We’ve got one more late night prep tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, spotting Marcus as well. “Tomorrow’s good.” 

“Goodnight, Carmy.”

“Goodnight.”

read: part three

[tom-whore-dleston]

My Only Angel

Pairing ▹ boss!Harry Styles x f. reader

Genre ▹ smut

This fic contains ▹ boss x employee relationship, daddy kink, praise kink, office sex, dry humping, finger sucking, mention of blowjob, scratching, hickies, Harry gets cockblocked

Word Count ▹ 1.1k

Summary ▹ pt. 2 of Not a Typical Boss

Notes ▹ Here is my very late submission for @the-slumberparty's Blast from the Past (week 2) challenge. I missed writing for Harry and I had fun revisiting one of my earlier fics ♡ Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed!

After spending the three-day weekend with Harry, you had some bounce to your step upon arriving at work. Your coworkers stared at you in bewilderment, unable to recognize this uber happy version of you. Memories of your time at Harry’s place filled your head as you typed away at your computer. 

All of a sudden, your desk phone began to blare that annoying ringtone. You sighed, picking up the phone and bringing it to your ear. 

“Yes?” 

The sound of the secretary’s voice echoed through the other side of the phone. “Mr.--I mean Harry–would like to see you in his office immediately.”

“Got it. Thanks, Kandice.” As you hung up, you bit back a giddy smile, thinking of seeing Harry again. Never mind the fact that you showed up to work from his house. You smoothed out your dress and reapplied your lipstick before stepping out of your office. 

Harry’s door was wide open once you reached his office space. His feet were propped on his desk and he mindlessly twirled a pen in his hand. He must have sensed you since he whipped his head around, a devilish smile plastered on his gorgeous face. His eyebrows motioned towards the door, and you shut and locked it behind you. 

You wasted no time in rushing towards him, climbing onto his lap with each leg locked by his hips. Muffled giggles left your mouths as you held each other on his rotating chair. His lips attached to your face, leaving gentle kisses all over.

“Miss me already?” You teased, as Harry kissed down your neck. He smirked against your skin coated in concealer. Your boss gave you no mercy this weekend when he littered your body with hickies. This morning, you desperately applied makeup over the hard-to-cover parts of your body. All of that work went to waste as Harry swiped his lips over the concealer, revealing bits of the bruises.

“Can you blame me, darling?” He mumbled, his fingertips tracing over your marks before landing underneath your chin. “Besides, I need a little stress relief before my meeting.” 

Then, he pulled you towards him to kiss you passionately. You both smiled and hummed into the kiss, deja vu kicking in as your lips danced along one anothers. Your core instantly grew wet and you subconsciously rutted your hips against his. Harry moaned into your mouth, allowing you to slip your tongue past his lips. He lifted your tight dress up to your waist, revealing your bare thighs and p to him. 

“Good girl, you remembered my rules.”

“I just want to be good for you, daddy.”

“Oh, I do love the sound of that.” His ring covered hand lightly wrapped around your neck, pulling you into another heated kiss. Your rosy lipstick smeared around his face, but he could care less. All that mattered to him was how much he could relish his fill of you before his meeting.

While his hand caressed your neck, you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest which was also covered in your love bites. With your lips still on his, you raked your nails  down to his abdomen, creating red scratches over his tatted form. You had experimented this tactic with him in bed, and the reactions you pulled from him would be ingrained in your mind for eternity.

“Fuck, baby girl!” A growl erupted from his throat before firmly grasping your hips, guiding them over his clothed cock. You whimpered louder than you wanted, earning a hard smack on your ass. 

“Quiet, baby. Did you forget we’re not at home?” You pouted at him, which he quickly learned was your way of apologizing for being disobedient. Harry stroked your face before shoving his thumb into your mouth. 

“Can you be a good girl and suck my thumb?” He muttered seductively, causing your pussy to throb. You nodded, only to be met with another spank, the sting biting a little harder than the last one.

“Try again, but with your words, baby.”

You murmured with his thumb still in your mouth. “Yes, daddy, I can be good for you.”

Harry smiled before placing a tender kiss on your forehead. “Much better. Go ahead and keep grinding that little pussy on me.” You rolled your hips over him, feeling him harden underneath you. He wrapped his free arm around your torso, closing the space between you and him. This allowed you to grind harder on him and suck his thumb with more need. His cyaneous eyes fixated on your pink lips the same way he’d watch you sucking his cock.

“God, that’s fuckin’ good!” Harry groaned in a hushed voice. This motivated you to go faster, in hopes to reach that sweet release. The pleasure began to fill your lower belly as your wetness coated Harry’s slacks. 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. He yanked his thumb out of your mouth before gripping your ass and controlling your movements over his lap. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans into his collar bone.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna make me cum like that, daddy!” You cried into his skin. 

“Yeah, baby girl? You gonna cum for daddy?” He chuckled lowly. “You like being my little fuck doll?”

“Yes, I love it, daddy!” The desperation cracked in your voice as your clit rubbed over his length. “Please, make me cum, please!”

Harry didn’t need to say anything before he started rocking into you while still working you on top of him. Breathy grunts fell from his mouth as his abs tightened with pleasure. His fingers  dug into your hips as you slammed against each other repetitively. Before either of you could hit your high, the same ringtone that tipped you off cloud nine earlier filled the room.

“Fuckin hell!” Harry cursed under his breath, throwing his head back. He flashed you an remorseful look and you reassured him with a peck on his lips. Your boss quickly gained his composure back before answering the call. 

“How can I help you, Kandice?” You could hear the woman’s sing-song voice, reminding Harry of his meeting that will start in ten minutes. He thanked her before setting the phone down. Somberness dawned over his face for a slight second until he peered into your eyes, making him more at ease.

“Looks like we’ll have to pick up where we left off on our lunch break.” You nodded enthusiastically, and helped him look presentable for his meeting. Glancing up and down his tall frame, your heart fluttered and heat rushed to your cheeks. How did you get so lucky in stealing your boss’ heart?

“Thank you for helping me destress and clean up, darling.”

“Anything for you, daddy.” You shared one last kiss before watching him walk out of his office.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Harry Styles Masterlist

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Beach Wear Voice Lines

When Summoned: It's summer! It's the beach! It's an uninhabited island～! We're going to have a blast on this little vacation, Stitch! (Stitch: Wheee!)

Summon Line: I can't believe I've gotten the awesome privilege of having such a fun encounter on this strange island. My excitement just won't go away.

Groooovy!!: Let's go, Stitch! We'll rule this summer! (Stitch: Yay!)

Home: Onwards towards the beach, Stitch! (Stitch: Oooh!)

Swap Looks: Even in summer I'm cute, don'tcha think?

Home Idle 1: I didn't expect him to be able to bring down a palm tree with one hit... Kufufu, Stitch is quite the rascal.

Home Idle 2: There's kayaking, beach volleyball, and scuba diving... Ah, whatever shall I do? There's far too much I want to do while here on this island.

Home Idle 3: Riddle has a tendency of being much too serious. Spending some time away from everything on this uninhabited island may do him some good.

Home Idle - Login: One must have the courage to enjoy yourself, especially when in a crisis such as this. See, Stitch agrees with me. (Stitch: Rock and Roll!)

Home Idle - Groovy: That Gantu fellow seems like he's real uptight. We're all out here on the beach during summer, we should all be enjoying ourselves!

Home Tap 1: Stitch is a really cute fellow. I find it so soothing to just look into his large, round eyes, and admire those stunning teeth... Ah, he just bit me!

Home Tap 2: Once, while travelling in a tropical country, I became entangled with some troublesome fellows. And let me tell you, they looked exactly like how Azul is dressed right now.

Home Tap 3: Don't you think my super summer style is slammin'? Come, come, don't be so shy, take a good look at me.

Home Tap 4: Ace and I played a game of Beach Flags just a bit ago. The result? Of course, it ended with my absolute victory.

Home Tap 5: I see there are frogs and lizards here, so we should be good on sustenance. What, you don't want to eat those? It's not good to be picky like that, you know.

Home Tap - Groovy: I never thought I'd ever be able to enjoy summer on the beach like this… But thanks to that strange book, I was able to have a wonderful experience.

Duo: [LILIA]: Ace, we'll bang this out and beat 'em all up! [ACE]: Lilia-senpai, ooh, you tryin' out my catchphrase?

Requested by Anonymous.

[deadlinesmb]

Shop Fusion Collab - Splatoon 3

Hooooh boy, I have a lot to say about this one.

Let me preface this part by saying that this section would straight up not exist without the talented work of my teammate Nico. Not only did he model/rig Cordelia and the background, but it's thanks to him that I was able to learn the Blender animation pipeline. He was extremely patient with me and answered every question I had, and for that I'm extremely grateful.

For this section, I animated the shopkeeper Cordelia, from the game Dead Estate! While developing this part, I pitched the idea for a Splatoon 3 section and agreed to do the art for it regardless of what game it was paired with! That game ended up being Dead Estate, a game I had never heard of up to that point.

So, what followed was a period of deep research into the game as well as Cordelia, so I could get the best understanding of how to portray her in the Splatoon universe. First thing was first, I had to redesign her. Even for SiIvaGunner projects, humans existing within the Splatoon universe is a bit jarring, so I decided that for Cordelia's model sheet, I would try to jazz her design up to make her a better fit for this artstyle!

I explored some potential species design before deciding to make her an urchin, as I felt like it'd be the coolest way to adapt her hairstyle. I made some minor changes to her outfit and passed it along to Nico for modeling!

(image from Nico's Twitter post on his contributions, def check it out)

Needless to say I was blown away with how well he adapted the design. It came out better than I could have imagined. What soon followed was me forcing myself to learn the Blender animation pipeline from scratch!

It was a very interesting but invaluable process. I am a 2D animator by trade, with very little interest in expanding to 3D, but the more I was exposed to Blender, the more natural the process came to me. I was very surprised. I think the animation took me about a month in total to create, as I was balancing it with schoolwork at the time, but I'm very happy with how it came out considering my 3D experience level.

Beyond the 3D animation side of things, there was also the 2D assets needed for the UI, which I recreated from scratch through editing software with the help of some gracious Splatoon modders who were willing to help me rip UI and SFX from the game. All of the unique 2D weapon icons were drawn by me, each being direct callbacks to actual weapons from Dead Estate! Eagle-eyed viewers also may have caught that I snuck in a teaser for Prince Fleaswallow's upcoming section in the top right of the UI, which required me to make a Splatoon-styled head icon for him!

Overall, this one was a blast to work on. Everyone was surprised to see it being one of the earliest sections finished for the collab. We made sure to get it locked down because we knew we were in for a labor-intensive time if we wanted it to look just right.

[loquaciousquark]

Patch #7, meet playthrough #6. This is the fourth time I've played Tav & it still took me over an hour to get through character creation.

One thing I'm really getting into this time which I didn't expect is modding. Customizing them, specifically. Nothing big--I actually really dislike 99% of the popular face/armor/appearance mods--but just little QoL things that won't matter to anyone but me. Things like figuring out how to edit the super immersion-breaking descriptions of the singular dye mod I do use, or fixing minor cosmetic errors in my downloaded dice skins, or adjusting the width of the hotbar-widening mod I just found today.

I'm laughing at myself as I do it, too, because it's a metric ton of effort for a) an audience of one, and b) to make the mods as unnoticeable as possible. No matter what game I'm playing, I always strongly prefer my mods to be as lore-friendly and as invisible as I can get them, and BG3's no exception. I don't want branding or typos in the item names and descriptions. I don't want "This dye make leathers red/black and if there is any metal it will be silver" popping up on a tooltip in game. (Heck, the only reason I have a dye mod in the first place is that they changed the Ocean dye after my first playthrough and I wanted to recreate the original.)

I don't want "AREIL'S DICE - Diamond dice Mod" next to Behir Blue and Shining Honour. I don't want the hotbar at the bottom of the screen 12 full columns wider so that it hits the sides; I just want it two columns wider. Just enough for a half-dozen more spells for Shadowheart. No big new buttons. No big spell icons with a jarringly different art style. Just little, invisible changes that someone passing by wouldn't even be able to notice which ever-so-slightly improve my experience.

Anyway, my latest project is that four of the dice skins I downloaded (all from the same maker) have flawed face covers--that is, the opaque triangle that hides the rolled number while adding up the bonuses on screen. It turns out that triangle's a .DDS file, and it turns out it's not hard at all to edit .DDS files, and now that I've learned the difference between .dds and .DDS (because boy there is one!!) I feel confident I can make a new face cover that isn't so clumsy and clunky and obviously a player's creation.

It's been really fun unpacking these mods and learning how they're built & how the files are created. I don't have any desire to create my own, and I still haven't touched anything that requires meshes or 3D construction, but it's a new way of exploring how I game, and I'm really having a blast!

[cariadthewitch]

4th December, 1891, dear journal,

today was rather…eventful. After invading horntail hall, we didn’t know what to do with the dragons egg. Poppy, amazing, incredible poppy, had somehow managed to track the dragons flight. She offered to accompany me and Riz to return it but we insisted she stay put. Not because she’s incapable. She’s far from that, in fact. We just didn’t want to see her hurt, knowing it was an incredibly dangerous mission and we knew Sylvan would be at our throats if she got so much as a scratch.

We met up in hogsmeade, me with the egg, before trecking through the mountains. For once, I wore my hair in a ponytail, rather than my usual half up. I learned the hard way not to do combat with loose hair. I also wore a skirt, which may seem impractical but it matches my combat style and it’s easier to rip if we run out of wiggenweld and need to make a bandage.

Anyways, we swiftly found the dragon, using Poppy’s helpful tips and tricks about locating it using burn marks and trees. She’s ever so clever.

But, as poppy warned us, the dragon was very hungry and we looked a lot like sheep.

My heart was pounding the whole time, I was positive it would just leap out of my chest. It was shooting flames at us left right and centre, we could hardly move. Until Riz had the idea to roll to cover in a zig zag pattern to evade the blasts. He’s so incredible, I swear.

We got to shelter, catching our breath behind some ruins. Riz suggested something, I can’t precisely remember what because my brain went fuzzy after I challenged him. He bent lower, his breath tickling my ear as he whispered words that made me weak in the knees, my cheeks flushed. Merlin forgive me for whimpering embarrassingly like that. I tried to kiss my way out of punishment, and it worked for a little while, until the dragon roaring forced us to separate.

I was still slightly in a daze, and the dampness between my legs was painfully uncomfortable. But I knew if we stayed we’d be in even more danger. We kept moving forwards, using the same zig zag roll tactic.

I swear on Godrics heart I nearly had several heart attacks. I’d fought dark wizards, poachers, inferi…but a dragon was what scared me? Normally I love dragons I wanted to name it so we didn’t keep calling it ‘the dragon’! Looking back, I think it was just the fear of Riz getting hurt, knowing he could be severely burnt and not realise till he keeled over and died never mind, I don’t want to think about that.

We finally, finally made it to the nest and just managed to put the egg down when Burnice the dragon, appeared out of nowhere. It roared so loud we were forced back on the ledge. I would have called if Riz didn’t grab my hand. But the dragon didn’t attack, it seemed to sense out good intensions. I always knew beasts were smart. Like with a cat, I held my hand out, to show we were friendly.

To my surprise and utter delight, it nudged my hand, it’s hot breath akin to that of an affectionate dog, before pulling back, taking the egg in its mouth and flying away.

That is an experience I will honestly never forget. It was wonderful.

It’s currently 01:07…however did it get so late? I’ll write again about our next big adventure. Until then,

-Cariad xxx

**riz belonds to @rene-hl-trashcan

[that-ari-blogger]

A Discussion Of LavenderTowne and Hazbin Hotel

So, a little while ago, a YouTube channel called LavenderTowne ventured into the Hazbin Hotel fan space to propose some criticisms and fan redesigns of the characters.

I had thoughts on the original video, but those are irrelevant because its reception was… tumultuous, and in my opinion disproportionate. The video has since been taken down, and LavenderTowne uploaded a follow up to it (link). In which she stated that her experience with the Hazbin Hotel fandom wasn’t the most pleasant, something I would like to address.

So, this post will be an academic discussion of the designs from the second video. Because I think her criticisms were interesting and because I want to show that it is possible to disagree with someone without being unpleasent.

Also, I want to give LavenderTowne a more welcoming experience with the fandom, and try to make up for some other members of the community.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (Hazbin Hotel)

I'm going to start with something that needs to be said. You can disagree with the rest of my post, but this is non negotiable:

It is never, under any circumstances, acceptable to harass someone for their opinions, especially about art. I don't care if you take issue with conclusions or perceived motivations, actions like I observed are not ok, and are not welcome in this fandom.

I hope I made that clear.

Anyway, I am going to be addressing the second video, because LavenderTowne took the first down, and I'm not about to intrude where I'm not wanted.

LavenderTowne mentioned the overarching stylistic choices, and I think that is a good place to start with this post, because they are good source of difference. Several of LavenderTowne’s criticisms are leveled at the Hazbin Hotel visual style itself, discussing what specific elements didn’t work for her and how she would personally draw things differently.

That is what I want to discuss here. Rather than the specifics of artistic technique, I am going to talk about the character design decisions brought about by the difference in style. This isn’t a question of skill, but an examination of the ideas presented.

Both LavenderTowne’s style and that of the Hazbin Hotel team range on the scale of realism, as is the nature of art, and that has caused a few of the design decisions that they have made. But it has also had a weird effect on the implied plot that is worth discussing.

Hazbin Hotel is more cartoony, for example, which means its logic is a bit more fluid. Vaggie's eye scar, for example, is shown over her hair, which isn’t how scars work in the real world.

This is a way of getting the tone across. Sir Pentious, at one point in the series, gets caught in the blast of an explosion and sent flying across the city. The design style lets you know that this is being played for a laugh and that he will probably be fine. If LavenderTowne had drawn Sir Pentious in her style, I guarantee that version of him would not survive the event, because hers is grittier (that’s the wrong word, but you get the point).

I do, however, really like the colour palette shift in LavenderTowne’s designs. Don’t get me wrong, I like the limited palette of the actual show, and I think it suits the setting more than the pastel aesthetic of LavenderTowne’s style.

But, those pastel colours are gorgeous and they are a really neat way of solving one of the problems that LavenderTowne identified and I agree with, that being how difficult character differentiation is when everyone has the same colouration as each other and their background.

Now, neither of the two options are implicitly better, there is just a different design sensibility going on.

As for the designs themselves, I actually prefer LavenderTowne’s Alastor over the original. I would like to see how it interacts with Alastor animation and transformation, but I think the design overall works better for the character. I like the horns being more pronounced, and I like that neat hairstyle. I think it's much more suited to an overly refined character who revolves around appearances.

“Just because you see a smile, don’t think you know what’s going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool, my dear! It inspires your friends, keeps your enemies guessing, and ensures that no matter what comes your way, you’re the one in control.”

I think that Alastors original hair style is more about looking cool than looking refined. The shorter style, combined with the more prominent antlers, gives that air of someone actively concealing their more wild undercurrents.

That being said, I'm not as sold on Alastor's expression in LavenderTowne's design. This is a stylistic choice, but I don't think that the Cheshire Cat smile translates over to the alternate design as smoothly as his concept. In the original, that smile was the thing that denoted him as malicious, but LavenderTowne's design seems more huggable, at least to me.

LavenderTowne did raise an interesting point about the voodoo symbolism, a point that others have raised, and I think is worth noting. Incorporating that aesthetic as synonymous with dark magic in a setting based heavily off Christianity is funky, thematically. It's a use of stereotypes as shorthand, which carries the baggage of those stereotypes, intentionally or not. However, I am about as far from qualified to talk about this in detail as possible. I recommend that you listen to the opinions of people who know more about this than me, and who's case this is to make.

Husk’s design is another that I like, but this one I have slightly mixed feelings about. The body type change addresses another of LavenderTowne's criticisms of the series, again in relation to character differentiation. That is a strength of the video, LavenderTowne gives criticisms, and explains what she means and how she would go about doing it.

Interestingly, that body type issue is something I disagree with. I think the way that LavenderTowne has handled the issue she identified is fascinating, and one of the best parts of her process. But this is simply an issue I don’t see as a problem.

The criticism is that the silhouettes of the characters are exceedingly similar, meaning that identifying them is difficult, as well as limiting in terms of variety of proportions. I could point out Sir Pentious or Husk here, but that is arguing in bad faith because Husk is very clearly the exception to the rule, and Pentious actually conforms to her observation. Without his hood out, Pentious’ silhouette difference is in his tail, which is rarely onscreen.

The reason I am ok with this, is that Hazbin Hotel has a thing for transforming character designs. Charlie, Valentino, Emily and Serah, Lucifer, even Adam, Vaggie, and Lute, as well as a ton of others. All of these character designs shift as the story progresses, revealing aspects of them that they have kept secret. I like having the baseline similarities if everyone gets a moment where they show off how different they are from that baseline. I think that is a cool story beat that, for me at least, outweighs the problem of similarity. I’m sure LavenderTowne would disagree with me here, and that is more than fine.

Back to the point, Husk is a character who is surprisingly acrobatic and martially competent, and the slight shift in the alternative design switches him into more of a bar brawl type character. This feels like the guy who would just deck you and tell you to cool off, rather than throw something at you. He looks like the type of bartender he is, cool and calm, and ready to offer advice when needed.

The removal of the wings is an interesting choice. On the one hand, it clears up his design and makes him look more down to earth. On the other hand, it leads into my main bugbear with this design. I don't think this version of Husk looks like an overlord.

This is subjective, and I am struggling to quite explain it. But the wings, as well as his voice, give a sense of gravitas to Husk. Without that, Husk looks relatively unremarkable.

The outfit plays into this. While I prefer it and its subtlety, there is little that marks this version of Husk out as higher ranking.

Again, this isn't a case of the original designs being objectively better. This is a different design that communicates different things. LavenderTowne’s Husk is a humble bartender rather than an overlord playing pretend. I simply like the story that the original offers more.

Vaggie’s new design is both my favourite design of the four, and the one that is the furthest from the story of the show.

I love the quieter eye scar, I love the silhouette, and I think moving the ribbons to her back is a genius bit of visual storytelling.

The outfit is cool (I especially like those boots), but there's an asterisk to that, because I don't think it entirely suits Vaggie as she is presented in the show.

At the risk of oversimplifying, Vaggie is a fairly uncomplicated character. Not because she's written to be shallow, but because the show doesn't have time to explore her personality.

So, you get her past, which is fascinating, and it leaves some interesting things on the table.

For example, Vaggie has zero self preservation instinct and will burn herself to the ground for Charlie. This isn't complex, but it's remarkable how much the writers (and animators if you’re looking for that kind of thing) get out of this one detail.

Most notably, her character grows into realising that love means living for someone rather than dying to keep them safe. This culminates in the defeat of Lute, the embodiment of her past, who doesn't think to move out of the way of a collapsing building.

Similarly, Vaggie was an angel and wants to hide that aspect of herself. This makes her multifaceted in backstory, but the reveal doesn't have time to dwell on her characterisation, so it just feeds into what I said before.

I think that with another season of time to develop, Vaggie’s characterisation will become as complex as her backstory. But that doesn’t come quickly.

The point I am making is that I don't think this version of Vaggie would wear armour until the end. She doesn't think she can get killed, so why would she need to protect herself?

Which means that LavenderTowne's design would work for the last episode of the show, if it had wings, which is sacrificing the single best piece of foreshadowing I have seen in a long time. Seriously, I cannot stop gushing about those ribbons.

What we have, then, is a version of Vaggie with a slightly different story and personality. To me, LavenderTowne's Vaggie looks like a character who craves safety. She seeks Charlie because she offers emotional stability and kindness, the one person in hell who Vaggie doesn't think is against her. But she would wear the armour and outfit because of the injury. She realises she can be wounded and grabs the heaviest set she can find, the twin coloured trousers come from that desperation, and add to the imbalanced aspect of her design.

This version of Vaggie is defensive rather than offensive, and though it renders Out For Love obsolete, I find it more interesting than the original.

Charlie's design, however, I'm not such a big fan of. I'm sorry LavenderTowne, I really am. But this design really doesn't sit right with me.

Hazbin Hotel has a circus theme going on. The main foyer has a circus tent affectation, for example, and Charlie gives off the aesthetic of the ringmaster.

Charlie is very overtly the antithesis of a Disney princess, and that comes across in her design. Instead of wearing a floaty dress, she wears a suit and suspenders.

Yes, the hooves and horns being more prominent is a cool alteration that I appreciate, but the alternate outfit really doesn't feel like Charlie.

I think the difference is in the framing. To me, LavenderTowne's Charlie comes across as naive and optimistic, where the original design is more relentlessly hopeful, and that second one matches how she is in the series.

Charlie in Hazbin Hotel showcases true hope. Not optimism, hope. The type of emotion that keeps getting knocked down, but picks itself off the floor ever single time, and gets ready to try again. Charlie has no proof of her philosophy, no basis. She's not trying to recreate phenomena, she doesn't even know she can succeed. That's why she needs the hope.

I don't think that LavenderTowne's design has that vibe. Instead, this Charlie seems younger, which contributes to the naivety. It feels like it leans into her regular design, so the more fearsome transformation comes as a shock, mostly.

On the other hand, the three horn tiara element is genuinely really cool. It gives that air of reality, and hints at the transformation without giving it away. They round out the design and make the “this is a demon princess” clear.

Interactions between this Charlie and Adam, Lute, or Sarah would be interesting, as this version seems designed to foil off them, rather than the other way around. Especially Emily, this design seems genetically engineered to mirror her and make her question her ideals just through existing in the same place.

In short, this Charlie seems more gentle than the original, which might help in some aspects, but I prefer the original.

One again, this is my opinion, and not objective by any stretch of the imagination. If you disagree with me, good, that's the bread and butter of how analysis and discussion exists. But I hope I have shown that disagreement is possible without aggression.

Which brings me to my conclusion, and I have something here that I hope you will like.

LavenderTowne's designs feel like they are made for the same story, but paced differently. They feel like a different style of musical. They feel like they were made for a version of Hazbin Hotel that had more episodes and has time for subtlety, something that the original show unfortunately didn't have.

The story feels the same, but the minour changes make it seem more drawn out. The tone is different, and that effects the entirety of the rest of the story.

In other words, she is designing an AU, something she makes explicitly clear at least five times in her video.

LavenderTowne mentioned in her video that she might do a follow up with a few more characters. I would be intrigued to see this, because I want to know what Angel Dust would look like in this version of the story, as well as the actual angels and even the Vees.

I also am fascinated by how the art style affects the tone of the story. And with LavenderTowne's permission, I might have a crack at writing some of the key scenes from the show to fit this aesthetic and tone. I think that would be an interesting thought experiment.

Final Thoughts

LavenderTowne’s designs were dope as all hell, and the points she raised were worth discussing.

I love the series, but I understand that it's not everyone’s cup of tea. Content warnings should get that across, but also some people just won't like elements of it for any number of reasons, and that is ok.

I think @ohnoitstbskyen put it best in his discussion of the finale of the series. (Link). In his closing remarks, he spoke at length about people who will discover the show and the effect that it will have on them. That sentiment, boiled down, became the title of that video, and concisely says what I have taken just under 3000 words to talk around.

“This show will save someone’s life, but it isn’t for everyone.”

But let me be clear about why I wrote this.

I saw some of the shit that people wrote about LavenderTowne's original video, and though a lot of it was positive, a fair chunk was not, and I want to put my foot down. Disagreement about art is healthy, but if you think that involves harassment at all, then tell Husk he still owes me a drink.

On a lighter note, this is my first post about Hazbin Hotel, so for those who are reading my stuff for the first time, hello. I am Ari, I do media analysis, and I plan on doing a series on Hazbin Hotel, going through each song with lyrical and musical analysis once I finish my current one on Wicked. So, if that interests you, maybe stick around.

Next

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 19 - In the Garage

Summary: The boys get crafty...

Word Count: 690

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Older!Corroded Coffin (it's the late 90s...), the pure boys will be boys energy, car speak thats probably wrong

Note: Big thanks to @courtingchaos for being a trashcan with me while everyone was asleep.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

They’re too old for shit like this.

Hands down. Point blank, end of story.

Still, they’re walking through the Hawkins junkyard looking for all manner of bits and bobs for their newest “project."

They'd honestly all grumbled about it when Jeff told them his idea: building a go-kart. They all had work and other commitments and if they were going to do anything, they should be practicing and working on getting their demo tape finished.

Eddie was the one to hone in the vision, though; not a go-kart, think bigger. Think cooler. As much as he hated to say it, the punk rockers had something going with their rat rods and beaters.

“And it would look so fucking cool in a music video,” Eddie pointed out.

That was all the convincing they needed to build their own car.

Now, Eddie wouldn't consider himself an expert mechanic but he could get by. He'd worked on his van for years, Jeff's car too, and provided tune ups for neighbors every now and again.

But this? This was new territory. This would take time and work and extra sets of hands.

Gareth was the most precious about it, stating that his hands were the money, their bread and butter.

"You do realize all of us need our hands to play," Dave pointed out. "You're not special just because you're the drummer."

"I just don't wanna break my wrist again if it gets smashed under the two ton shitbox we're building, asshole"

"You'll be fine, just lift with your legs."

It also required more time spent back home in Hawkins, but it was a sacrifice they were willing to make.

“For the music video" became their mantra as they imagined themselves featured on MTV amongst flashing images and psychedelic colors as their songs blasted in the background.

Wayne was happy to see them, of course.

He got breakfast with the boys every weekend before they went on their little scavenging missions at the junkyard. From there, they spent the rest of their Saturday at the Emersons, turning the two-car garage that they used to have band practices into some strange auto shop where they learned to weld and install suspension and everything that wasn't just an oil change.

They even leaned into the shitbox-style that Gareth had criticized, and Jeff created a little experiment for making some of the pieces of metal rust and corrode intentionally.

They were Corroded Coffin, after all.

"Just don't get tetanus," Mrs. Emerson warned when she brought snacks out to them.

Unfortunately they all ended up needing a booster shot by the time all was said and done.

Little by little it came together.

They each had their specific vision, using other fictional cars as inspiration--the Monkeemobile and the DRAG-U-LA--but they agreed that they needed to keep with the theme, and in the end they built something reminiscent of a hearse.

A long body with panels that were probably poorly welded together, but they made the best of that, hoping that the Frankensteining of it would look more purposeful. In fact, they ended up naming their rod Frank because of it.

Steady hands from hours of painting mini figs led to pinstriping wherever they could. There were exposed pipes that looked like rib and an extra set of headlights that looked like angry, glowing eyes. Eddie even sacrificed one of his rings and soldered it to look like an earring. Absolutely badass.

"Ok but can it run?" Jeff asked nervously.

They'd gotten it started many times, tested to make sure everything worked...but now it was a real put-your-money-where-your-mouth-is moment of truth for them.

They piled in, strapping themselves into the makeshift, mismatched seats and then prayed that it would all go right.

"Wait!" Eddie cried out right before he was about to start it. "Frank needs a little good luck charm."

From around his neck he pulled his lucky guitar pick--one he caught as his first concert, the one that he'd worn for years--and he wound it around the rearview mirror.

"Alright boys," he breathed. "Here goes nothing."

They all held their breath as he turned the key in the ignition.

And with a vrooom Frank started with a purr.

[aheathen-conceivably]

1, 10, 12, and 25! - lgl

LGL always a joy in the inbox 😊

1. What’s the last screenshot you’ve taken for your story?

Trying to get them spoilers here, huh? 😜

The last screen I took was actually while testing some pose edits. It is a blessed photo, so please enjoy (and speculate)…

10. Is your story fully planned or are you still working things out? is there a definitive end?

Kind of, definitely, and yes.

More specifically, I have a number of specific details planned out. I always like to ramble about how it’s like scaffolding being built toward the sky. The higher you go the less the structure is there, and you can see all the cracks and still need to figure out how to actually get to the next solid point, which is where the inspiration and flexibility comes in. But overall, yes, I have the final scene of the story written. Imma need a whole ass team if I’m ever gunna get there at this rate though 😅

12. Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium?

Specifically in the Darlington save? Probably like 20/80 at this point. I play between story shoots to kind of mimic the arcs, so it’s more me just imitating my own story in gameplay vs. actually playing the game and letting it influence my writing at all.

25. What inspirations have you drawn on for your story?

Goodness, gracious. Everything? If that’s a fair answer? 😅

Movies I love, books I read, history I’ve studied, songs that hit, fellow storytellers, tropes that make my brain itch, personal experiences, the color of the sky sometimes, a single word my husband says. Honestly? Fun times out here when you’ve got the Darlington brain rot.

To narrow it down I think that the 1890s/1900s were more inspired by my own aesthetics and decades challenges in general, and things got a little more personal around 1910 (which is why I usually tell people that’s when I start to really like the story). Those years were heavily inspired by Downton Abbey and Titanic (of course). And as broad stroke inspiration, I’m sure y’all know I’m fond of the “it glitters so brightly you don’t even see the tragedy until it’s too late” vibes that Titanic has (cue my other favorite films Cabaret and Moulin Rouge).

The 20s are inspired by New Orleans, I cannot state it enough. By everything I felt in my years there and everything I learned during my MA. More specifically, it was heavily drawn from Mister Jelly Roll and Empire of Sin. We also have some Gatsby in there, of course 😉

Now in the 30s I’m really having a blast, because I feel like I’m pulling inspiration for all the previous decades (Gatsby references coming when?) as well as hinting toward future ones (a certain littlest heiress and her obsession with the Wizard of Oz comes to mind). Combined with that is so much rich inspiration for this decade itself, coming heavily from Route 66: A Cultural History and The Grapes of Wrath specifically , as well as broader ideas of Americana, country and blues music, and the symbolism/beauty of the desert.

This decade has also really made me realize just how much inspiration I draw from place, and how it not only influences my style of descriptive writing (which in and of itself is inspired by Anne Rice), but also makes me so interested in how a location and its history influences people and the path of the story. I feel like it grounds me not just in a time period, but how that time period may have been different in specific locations and how different characters react to those factors.