when tony started working for bucky, he never imagined that anything would ever, could ever happen between them.
for starters, bucky was a decade older than tony. not that he had a huge issue with age differences, but still. tony was only in his early 20s when they met.
but more importantly, as far as tony could tell, bucky was happily married.
so despite the immediate attraction that he felt the second he laid eyes on bucky and the growing feelings he began to develop the more they got to know each other over the years, tony knew that nothing could ever come of it and that he needed to be content with just admiring the other man from afar.
but sometimes bucky would say things, or just look at tony a certain way, and he’d wonder if maybe, just maybe, the feelings he had were reciprocated.
regardless, though, he knew he would never do anything about it. there was no reason for him to do such a thing and nothing could change his mind about that.
not even when tony complained about another failed attempt at dating during happy hour one day after work and bucky said, “i could never understand why these idiotic bastards would rather waste another day getting drunk with their equally idiotic friends instead of spending time with you.”
or when bucky took him out for a celebratory lunch after signing a major deal with a new partner and their knees kept brushing under the table, and bucky just kept smiling at him for the whole meal like they were sharing a secret.
also not when they were on the phone with each other at midnight trying to salvage an important client relationship and suddenly the conversation segued into personal relationships and when tony sadly confided that he didn’t think anyone had ever loved him before, bucky vehemently declared, “doll, how could anyone know you and not love you? hell, i’m pretty sure i’ve been half in love with you for years.”
and especially not when they were on a business trip and heading back to their separate hotel rooms after a dinner with their biggest client and bucky kissed him before the elevator doors opened on his floor, and tony’s lips tingled for the rest of the night.
no, tony didn’t do anything about his feelings even after all of that because bucky was married.
then tony meets steve at a big company event, where this big beautiful blond man looks adorably lost and alone in a room with four hundred people. tony can’t help but drift closer to him and introduce himself, offer a drink, and ignore everyone else if only so he could make steve feel more comfortable in this crowd of strangers.
they spend the rest of the night together, talking for hours and giving each other meaningful and longing glances, smiling like they both know where they’d like this to go next. tony’s fingers absently stroke along steve’s hand that is placed on the cocktail table they’re leaning against, and steve’s other hand is playing with tony’s hair and sending shivers down his spine when his fingers brush against tony’s neck, and tony has to resist the urge to rub against steve’s hand like a cat.
steve has just leaned closer, lips and breath whispering across tony’s skin to speak softly into his ear when bucky finds them.
tony reluctantly pulls away from steve, refusing to feel embarrassed or guilty in any way, especially when he knows bucky likely interrupted them just so he could ask tony to get back to work. this is a work event, after all.
but then steve looks at bucky and smiles, and says, “oh hey sweetheart, finally got some time for us?”
and bucky glances between steve and tony, sees how there’s barely any space between them and grins from cheek to cheek. “looks like you’ve met my husband, doll.”
and, oh.
oh.
well.
it looks like tony suddenly has a lot to think about.
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whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!
this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!
warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her.
So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak.
You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work
you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then
nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place.
On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after
it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him.
but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening.
its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail.
Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn
its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench.
there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency.
when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-
all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river
Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay
“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.”
he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself.
but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything
its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found.
Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there.
Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames.
“We’re gonna find her, but not there.”
So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did.
He became a smuggler because of it.
Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way.
But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course.
The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him.
But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles
“You think she would have wanted this for you?”
the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence.
“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.”
All he can do is nod.
It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit.
It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live.
Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago.
its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo”
when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them.
Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands.
He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face.
Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity.
“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?”
Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be.
But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.
“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.”
Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again.
“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.”
He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples.
“One.”
The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun.
“Two”
Wait. No, they both do.
“Three.”
Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins.
“Four.”
Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet.
Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?”
Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless.
Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.
When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same.
She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head.
“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”
He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun.
“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?”
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going to say something about writing that is not a complaint and i know it sounds exactly like someone complaining but the conclusion i have drawn is that this rules. preface over am currently "working on" (in the most generous, nebulous sense possible) an original fantasy story & i just keep finding more stuff about the world i need to decide because it feels extremely formative to me even though it will barely appear on the page, if at all
but like... just the sheer volume of communication irl that happens symbolically that you never question becomes so apparent when you try to create a world that doesn't have those things or doesn't have the conditions for such a thing to be created. writing a character wearing a wedding ring and then going wait a minute— would these people communicate marital status via ring placement? why do we do that irl? when did we start? surely thats not the only way people ever communicate marriage— what does everyone else do? and really, come to think of it, what does it mean to be 'married' in this fictional world i'm creating? is there a legal component or just a social one? should it have all the same connotations/obligations as the real world (e.g. monogamy, having children, romantic love, impact on finances, etc)?
you can do this with literally Everything In The World. what language is everyone speaking? is it the same one? how many languages are there in the region i'm writing about? is the language we're speaking anyone's second language? when did they learn? is bilingualism common? and where does everyone here live? speaking of living, is that a permanent dwelling situation or are people nomadic? what's the climate like? are all the characters here used to the climate or is someone used to ten degrees cooler and kind of short tempered because of it? the clothes are probably impacted by the weather, what's everyone wearing? what's it made out of? what would be around here that could be used for dye? help me i have a case of worldbuilders disease and its incurable. these motherfuckers are never going to finish this journey because i cant even get them on the page long enough to pack a cart. also would they use carts? when did we start having cart and carriages pulled on roads irl? if there's roads, who's maintaining them— or is it just the path from years of people travelling that way? does the terrain allow for wheeled vehicles or would some other way be better?
anyway. you may call all this a waste of time and "not technically writing" since i "havent written any prose". i think im just slow cooking this novel. oooooh im thinking about it so much. you just wait when im like 56 im going to knock your socks right off with my intricate detailed world where i thought about everything except whatever element of society you understand most deeply. that part i fucked up and clearly didn't know anything about. sorry
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L'APPEL DU VIDE
okay so. jack! jack. what a collection of guys. the overlap between jack and the beanstalk and jack the giant killer, though. that sure is something! sometimes king arthur is there, which always takes me by surprise.
this. specifically. is an idea I've been kicking around. jack and the beanstalk is not a story I've ever enjoyed, as a kid it was probably my least favorite to read. as an adult, I was INTENSELY fascinated by reading j.g. ballard's the drowned giant. I think about it frequently, and somewhere during a re read of it, I ended up revisiting jack.
combining different versions of jack into one character is not a new concept, but it IS a fun one! the version I've been assembling together plays less with the fun elements of a jack story (and adjacent folklore stories), and focuses more on the potential for tragic elements with the addition of the usual grim and jagged narrative edges that I personally enjoy.
jack with the backstory of the devil and the three golden hairs, only jack doesn't find love, he's TIRED, all he wants to do is go home, but there isn't a home to go back to. what is the point of being born lucky if this is what it gets you? jack the giant killer, only he doesn't want to kill giants, jack who saw a body of a giant when he was a small child and cannot bring himself to do as a king commands. jack, who climbs up the beanstalk and stops halfway to look down. etc.
to go back to the drowned giant real quick, both to set the tone about jack seeing the body of a giant as a youth, and also because I've been haunted and obsessed with this excerpt of it ever since I read it:
J. G. Ballard, The Drowned Giant
anyway! this was originally like, a two illustration concept to get out of my system. however. I'm halfway through outlining a narrative. so. maybe it will also be several illustrations and also comic.
bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost
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a guide to keep your writers feeling happy and appreciated: what to put on reblog comments/tags
note: you can (and are encouraged to!) mix & match these. and they're not just for reblogs ー we also welcome you into our ask box to drop these kind of asks <3
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
OMG I LOVE THIS
hflkazjsdklahsdlkajskljdklas
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
bless you op
thank you for the food. very delicious. will come again
ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgo
someone hold me i'm about to go feral
i need [character] to hold me
i am gobbling this like a starved squirrel who forgot to stock food throughout winter
iwillnotsimpiwillnotsimpiwillnotsim- i'm simping
i'm so normal about this. totally.
screaming yelling screeching
oh fucー
OMNOMNOMNOM
i liked the part where [insert scene here]
i like it when you [insert writer's writing style here]
@[friend] look.
[insert a quote from a character in the fic and your reaction here]
[insert a conspiracy theory of what happened behind the scenes with the characters here]
[insert any fan creation (fics, art, incorrect quotes, memes, etc) inspired by the fic here]
[a live description of play-by-play reactions as you read the fic]
this picture:
alternatively, any puppy/kitten/bunny pictures
DO NOT put:
part 2 when
do [character(s)] next
[insert comments that views us as a content machine and not a human being]
[insert unwanted criticism here]
[insert any sort of hate comments here]
as a general rule of thumb, remember that your writer is a fellow human and you should treat them with the way you want to be treated: love and respect <3
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