#introvert's guide to a cool summer

[queen-of-elves]

I made a Introvert’s guide to a cool summer notion template you can use for free (o˘◡˘o) I had a lot of fun making it and maybe it might come handy to some introverts scared of wasting their summer away

[whispersoftheton]

Anthony bridgerton x wife!reader. Maybe his wife has quite a childlike innocence that the women of the ton take to be weirdness and they tend to isolate her but she never knows why. Maybe they’re newly married and she decides to invite some of the ladies for tea but no one shows up and she’s upset because she’s confused and Anthony comforts her and joins her for tea instead to cheer her up.

Hey! Thank you so much for requesting this & for being so patient! This wasn't meant to be this long but it sort of took on a life of its own. I hope you enjoy it <3

Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: none just comfort :)

Word Count: 1.1K

Every square inch of Aubrey Hall's walls flourished with the season's most stunning flowers, the gardens lush as far as the eye could see. The breeze did little to cool you off from the summer heat as you sat under the tent, sipping your afternoon tea overlooking the meadow alongside Violet Bridgerton. It had been a tedious day of tending to various duties around the household, and you were expecting company from some ladies of society later that evening. It seemed your schedule had been considerably more than full since your wedding a few months ago. Rather frankly, you were just as exhausted as you were delighted in your new marriage to the Viscount. Keeping up with the Bridgertons all while being the latest lady of the house proved to be quite the task. Sure, your introverted preferences to stay within the walls of your home with a good book or spend quiet time in the gardens studying the plants were different than the interests of the ladies of the ton. However, you always tried your very best to keep everyone surrounding you in good spirits while performing your obligations, always looking toward Violet for approval, wanting to stay within your welcome. She was the Viscountess before you, after all. You could only dream of living up to her in your new position. Overseeing every small detail runs smoothly across your home, not to mention the impending weight on your shoulders due to the responsibility of Anthony's sisters coming out in the following seasons. You didn't know how long you could keep this facade up if you were being honest with yourself. But you had standards to upkeep, ways in which the Viscountess held her own beside her husband, and the last thing you ever wanted to do was let Anthony or his family down.

The sun blared upon the exquisitely green grass; surrounding the field on the outer edges were countless trees with blossoming flowers overflowing the gardens. Springtime at Aubrey Hall, indeed, was like no other. You turned your attention toward the Pall Mall game. Your husband stood before his siblings, mumbling something you were sure was some tease towards Eloise, making you smirk. Anthony turned toward the field and adjusted his grip on the mallet before making his final shot. A generous mix of disappointed grumbles and cheers erupted from the handful of Bridgertons as he made the final winning score. Half of them scrambled to debate the shot while the other half stood by, giggling toward them.

Anthony left his siblings to argue among themselves over the game he now reigned as champion over. Eloise was clearly bitter and left feeling she had been made a mockery over this loss after spending her spare time practicing for this very moment. Anthony placed his mallet on the stand alongside the others and approached you. He graciously extended his hand toward you, motioning you to go with him before the both of you bid goodbye to his mama and slipped out of sight and into the grand home.

"Eloise is taking quite hard, isn't she?" You said as he guided you through the doors. "She must have thought her practice would allow her to best you once and for all."

"Having hopes of besting her older yet clearly more skilled brother? Unlikely, my love." Anthony taunted, evidently still on a high from his victory. You stood in the main room while Anthony poured himself a drink, beckoning you to join him before you politely declined.

"I cannot. I am having the ladies over for tea shortly, and I cannot be anything less than perfection for their arrival." Anthony wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in for a brief kiss. Enough to have you wrapping your arms around his neck and yearning for more as he pulled away just enough for your noses to brush tenderly against one another.

"No moment in time exists in which you are not perfection, my love." Anthony's smile warmed your heart as you relaxed against him. "They will love you as much as I do; I am sure of it." His validation and loving gaze melted any lingering stresses still dancing around in your head. All that was left was to check off some last-minute preparations, and the tea could commence.

The late afternoon sun cast dispersed shadows across the cobblestone path. Anthony strolled into his home since returning from a lengthy afternoon of business meetings and running several errands around town. Anthony had hoped to come home to you excitedly telling him of your afternoon tea with the ladies of the ton. Instead, he found the halls seemed eerily calm for this time of day. He entered the main room and caught you sitting quietly on one of the sofas in a far corner. You curled up beside the unlit fireplace, twirling your fingers anxiously in your lap when you felt Anthony take a seat beside you.

"Sweetheart." Anthony paused before placing his hand in your lap. You didn't know if it was for comfort or to stop you from fidgeting. His warmth was welcome either way. "Is something wrong?" He cautiously asked.

"No one came." The words strained from your throat. "I know your mama and sisters left this morning on a day's travel, but I hoped-." Your voice broke before resuming. "I hoped at least someone would have-." Tears brimmed your eyes, and scattered tears stained across the top of your dress, some still falling down your cheeks. Anthony's hand cupped your face, his thumb gently preventing the tears from their continued flow. He took your hands in his and placed a lingering kiss on your knuckles before standing before you and offering you his hand. Without another word, Anthony dragged you along the halls and out into the gardens. Various flowers bloomed around you, and he brought you to one of the rarer flowers now flourishing on the property.

"What are we doing here?" You questioned while admiring the intricate patterns in which the vine had taken, the beautiful springtime flora temporarily making you forget the catastrophe of this afternoon. Anthony stepped closer from behind, arms wrapping around you as he whispered in your ear.

"It is when I am gazing upon the most exquisitely beautiful flower in the garden that I think of you." Tears again swelled inside you, but for a different reason this time. "The day will come when the world will see the beauty I am fortunate enough to hold near every day. In the meantime, I get you all to myself, hm?" The warmth and comfort of his words and presence enveloped you, brushing away the day's worries and woes with an ease only he possessed. His voice was a soothing balm for your soul that always had a way of convincing you everything would be okay. Because when you were around Anthony, you knew it would be.

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[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - part three

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

part one | part two

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: lots of angst, mentions of drinking

Masterlist

The bar is faintly lit and alive with the various conversations and the occasional burst of laughter from the happy drunk patrons. You step inside with Bucky, a bluesy guitar riff spilling out from a corner where a live band plays, instantly aiding a laid-back atmosphere.

Sam waves you over from a booth near the corner, a broad grin on his face. “About time you two showed up! I was starting to think Barnes was going to keep you all to himself.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, his hand lightly grazing your back as he guides you toward the table. “Relax, Wilson. We’re here, aren’t we?”

Sam’s eyes flick between the two of you, his grin widening. “Oh, I see how it is. Keeping me waiting because you’re too busy whispering sweet nothings to each other.”

You feel your cheeks heat up but you play it off with a laugh. 

“Yeah, sure, Sam. Because that’s definitely what we were doing.” Bucky remarks.

Sam winks. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just saying, I’ve never seen Bucky willingly spend this much time with anyone who isn’t me.”

Bucky groans, sliding into the booth across from Sam. “Can we not do this right now?”

You scoot in beside him, hiding a smile as Sam leans back, clearly enjoying himself.

A server stops by and takes your drink orders—Sam goes for a beer, Bucky sticks with whiskey, and you pick something light, wanting to pace yourself.

As the night progresses, Sam keeps the jokes flowing, dragging stories out of Bucky about their time working at a fast food place together when they were sixteen. You laugh as Sam recounts the story of Bucky accidentally setting the fryer on fire during their second week on the job.

“I swear,” Sam says between bursts of laughter, “he tried to play it cool, but the man was freaking out. And don’t even get me started on how he tried to convince the manager it was faulty equipment.”

Bucky groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, first of all, it was faulty. Second, you’re leaving out the part where you spilled an entire milkshake machine.”

Sam waves his hand dismissively. “Details. Besides, I wasn’t the one who got banned from ever touching the fryer again.”

You lean into Bucky, grinning. “So, no fry duty for you, huh?”

He shakes his head, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Nope. I was stuck flipping burgers for the rest of the summer. Sam, on the other hand, got promoted to register duty because the manager thought he was charming.”

“Charming is one way to put it,” you shoot Sam a playful look.

“Hey, don’t hate the player,” Sam quips, raising his beer in a mock toast.

As the drinks continue and more stories are shared, Sam leans forward, his gaze flicking between you and Bucky again. “So, when are you two gonna stop pretending this is just casual?”

Bucky chokes slightly on his drink, shooting Sam a glare. “Wilson—”

“What?” Sam says innocently, though his smirk betrays him. “I’m just saying. You’ve got this whole broody, mysterious thing going on, and she clearly doesn’t scare easily. It’s a match made in Brooklyn.”

You’re about to say something to deflect Sam’s relentless teasing when the door to the bar opens. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the way Bucky’s demeanor shifts. His posture stiffens, the easy smile he’s been wearing vanishes and his jaw tightens.

“Uh-oh,” Sam mutters, his expression sobering as he follows Bucky’s line of sight.

“What?” you question, glancing between them.

Sam leans in, lowering his voice. “Looks like trouble just walked in.”

You turn toward the door, your eyes landing on a woman weaving her way through the bar. She’s striking, the kind of person who turns heads without even trying. Her confidence is palpable, but there’s something sharp about her presence, something that instantly feels out of place in the warm, easygoing atmosphere of the bar.

The moment she spots Bucky, her lips curve into a smirk and she heads straight for your table.

Sam mutters under his breath, “Here we go.”

Bucky doesn’t move—he just watches her approach, his face unreadable, though you can feel the tension radiating off him.

“Bucky Barnes,” she says when she reaches the table, her voice smooth but laced with something malicious. “Of all the places to run into you.”

Bucky’s grip tightens on his glass as he addresses her. “Natalie.”

Natalie tilts her head, her gaze sweeping over him before briefly flicking to you. Her eyes linger for a second before she looks back at Bucky. “Didn’t expect to see you here. What’s it been, a year? Two?”

“Closer to three,” Bucky’s voice is devoid of the warmth you’ve come to know.

“Right,” her smirk widens. “Time flies, doesn’t it?”

Sam clears his throat, drawing her attention. “Hey, Natalie. Long time no see.”

“Sam,” she acknowledges, though her focus quickly shifts back to Bucky. “You look good, Buck. Brooklyn’s still treating you well, I see.”

Bucky doesn’t respond. The tension is thick enough to cut and you feel like an intruder in a conversation you don’t understand.

Natalie crosses her arms, her tone turning softer but no less sharp. “I heard about your mom. I meant to reach out, but…” She trails off with a shrug that feels anything but sincere.

Bucky’s expression darkens and you notice the way his hand tightens into a fist at his side.

“Don’t,” he states, his voice low but firm.

Natalie raises an eyebrow, her smirk faltering for the first time. “Alright. Just thought I’d say hi.” She glances at you again, her smile colder this time. “Nice meeting you… whoever you are.”

Without getting to introduce yourself, she turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the floor as she disappears into the crowd.

The table is silent for a moment, the air stale from her presence. Sam is the first to speak. “Well, that was fun.”

Bucky sinks back into his seat, he rolls his shoulders back as if he’s trying to expel the tension, his gaze stays fixed on his drink.

You hesitate before leaning closer to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he answers but the clipped tone tells you otherwise.

Sam, trying to diffuse the awkwardness, offers a quiet out. “We don’t have to stay, you know.”

Bucky shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “No, I’m not letting her ruin the night. Let’s just… forget about it.”

Sam nods, though he still looks uneasy.

You don’t press further, but as the night wears on, you notice the way Bucky stays more withdrawn, his usual quietness taking on an edge of distraction.

Later, when the three of you step outside into the chilly night air, you fall into step beside him.

“Bucky,” you grab his arm gently. “If you want to talk about it… I’m here.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed ahead. But after a moment, he looks down at you, his eyes softer than they’ve been all night. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the single word carrying more weight than you expected.

After you say goodbye to Sam and promise a happier redo of your interrupted night another time, you continue walking. The streets are quieter as the night grows and the sounds from the bar fade. Suddenly, Bucky stops walking, looks around for a second before grabbing your hand in his. 

“I have another place I want to show you.” You don’t ask where–you trust him as he leads the way. 

Eventually, you reach a tucked-away rooftop garden atop an old industrial building. It’s quiet, peaceful, with fairy lights strung along the edges of the space and a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The East River glimmers below, reflecting the lights of Manhattan.

Bucky gestures toward a bench near the edge of the rooftop. “Figured you could use a breather after all that.”

You sit down, taking in the view. “This is beautiful.” 

Bucky leans against the railing, his gaze distant. “This place used to be more popular but now not many people know about this spot. It’s… kind of my escape.”

You watch him for a moment, noticing the tension in his jaw and the way his fingers tap restlessly against the railing. “Do you come here often?”

He nods. “Whenever it feels like the walls are closing in. It’s easier to think up here. Or not think at all.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “Were you thinking about her tonight? Natalie.”

His lips press into a thin line and for a moment you think he’s going to brush it off. But then he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. She’s… a reminder of a lot of things I’d rather forget.”

He sits beside you on the bench, his gaze fixed on the skyline. “After my mom passed, I wasn’t in a good place. Natalie and I broke up right before it happened. She didn’t know how to handle it—hell, I didn’t either. But instead of trying to be there for me, she… bailed. Made me feel like I was too much. Like my grief was too heavy for her.”

Your heart aches, wondering how someone can have so little compassion. “That’s not your fault, Bucky. She wasn’t strong enough to be there for you, but that doesn’t mean you were too much.”

He glances at you, his blue eyes reflecting the city lights. “Maybe. But it still messed with me, you know? Made me wonder if it’s even worth letting people in.”

You sit quietly, letting his words settle between you. After a moment, you speak up, “I get it. It’s scary to open up, to risk getting hurt. But you don’t have to go through everything alone. You don’t deserve to carry all that by yourself.”

Bucky looks at you then, really looks at you. He leans in, his face inches from yours, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips. For a heartbeat, it feels like the world stops—like the city has gone silent, leaving just the two of you in this rooftop oasis.

But then, he pulls back abruptly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, standing and turning away from you.

You blink, the moment shattered. “Bucky…”

“It’s not you,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “I just… I can’t.”

You stand, stepping closer but keeping enough distance to give him space. “It’s okay,” you say gently. “We don’t have to rush anything.”

He turns to you, the conflict in his face evident. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t,” you say simply, holding his gaze.

For a long moment, neither of you say anything. You sit back on the bench, and after a moment’s hesitation, he joins you again. The two of you sit in silence, the city stretching out before you, the skyline holding everything left unsaid.

You wake up early to the weight of the previous night pressing down on you, making you a little nervous to see Bucky. 

The memory of the bar, of Bucky pulling away, of the almost-kiss, plays over and over in your mind. After the rooftop, after the vulnerability, after feeling like you’d both connected in a way that felt real and intense... there's a disconnect now. A distance between you two that wasn't there before.

You sit up in bed, trying to shake the haze of sleep, your mind still replaying the conversation. The way Bucky opened up about his ex—just enough to let you see the cracks in his armor—and the way he’d pulled back, retreating into himself. You understand the walls he’s built around his heart, but it doesn’t make it any easier to accept.

You rub your eyes, standing up from the guest bed and walking out toward the kitchen. You can hear Bucky moving around in the next room as you walk down the hallway, the sound of water running in the bathroom.

When he emerges, he’s in his sweatpants, hair still tousled from sleep. He gives you a quiet nod but his eyes don’t quite meet yours. 

“Morning,” you greet tentatively, unsure how to break the awkward silence between you.

Bucky responds with a soft grunt, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He doesn’t look at you as he takes a drink.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “About last night…” you begin, but you don’t know where to go from there. You want to reach out but you don’t want to push him away further.

Bucky finally turns to you, but his expression is guarded, his eyes distant. “I’m not ready for this. For whatever this is between us.”

Your stomach drops and you swallow hard, the words stinging more than you expected. “I know,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “But I don’t understand why you pulled away. I thought we were getting closer.”

He clenches his jaw, looking torn. He paces slightly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I do want it. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. But I’m...I don’t know how to be that guy. Not after everything.”

The vulnerability in his voice makes your heart ache for him, but his words hurt just the same. You can feel him pulling away from you, emotionally. There’s an invisible wall that wasn’t there before.

“I know you’re scared, Bucky,” you say softly. “But I’m not asking you to be perfect. I just want you to be honest with me.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes filled with turmoil, but then they flicker down to the floor. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort of holding himself together. “I don’t know how to let anyone in like that again,” he admits quietly. “Not after everything with Natalie. I let myself get hurt... and I don’t want to do that again.”

You move closer to him, cautiously but he takes a step back, shaking his head. The distance between you feels like an abyss now. “I get it,” you say, your voice trembling a little. “I do. But you don’t have to push me away. I’m not her, Bucky. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He finally meets your eyes again. “But you are,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “You’re leaving next week.”

You reach out, your hand hovering near his, unsure if he’ll let you touch him. When he doesn’t pull away, you slowly place your hand on his arm. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels like a lifeline.

“I’m here, Bucky, right now.” you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. “I know it’s been hard. It’s hard for me too. After all these months and finally meeting in person, I’ve never felt this connected to someone before. Yes it’s scary and terrifying. We all have a past but why let that ruin what’s right in front of you?”

Bucky stands there for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, a battle raging inside him. You can see the conflict. Finally, he sighs, his shoulders slumping as he steps back and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I’m ready. I’m sorry.”

You nod, though your heart aches from the distance between you. “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

The silence stretches as Bucky turns away to grab his jacket, you realize that despite all the progress you’ve made, there’s still so much he needs to heal from—so much that he hasn’t let go of yet. You want to be there for him, but you also wonder how much longer you can wait for him to come to terms with his past.

Bucky walks through the streets of Brooklyn, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, a pensive expression taking over his face. The city is alive around him—cars rushing by, people moving with purpose—but he feels detached from it all.

His thoughts are a tangled mess, looping endlessly between the past and the present. His mother’s face flickers in his mind, her warmth, her kindness. The way she always believed in him, even when he felt like he wasn’t worth believing in. Losing her had been the beginning of everything unraveling. And then there was Natalie—her presence had been a wildfire in his life, bright and consuming, but in the end, it had only left him burned.

And now, after three years of silence, she’s back.

Seeing her again last night rattled him more than he wanted to admit. The past always finds a way of creeping up when he least expects it and Natalie is living proof of that. He thought he had buried that part of his life, convinced himself he was better off alone.

But then there’s you—the one person who he let slip past all his defenses.

Seven months. That’s how long you’ve been in his life. And in those months, through nothing but words and carefully chosen gifts, you had found your way into the parts of himself he had sworn to keep locked away. Last night on the rooftop had been the closest he’d come to letting someone in again. The way you looked at him, the way your hand had hovered over his, waiting for him to decide—it terrified him. Because he wanted it. He wants you. And wanting someone meant opening himself up to be crushed all over again.

He wasn’t sure if he could survive that a second time.

The more he walks, the more suffocated he feels by the weight of his own emotions. So he does his usual routine when things get too heavy.

He runs from them and drowns himself in his sorrows.

Bucky slouches at the bar, the soft lighting casting shadows over his face. His fingers wrap around another glass of whiskey, the burn sliding down his throat. He’s lost count of how many he’s had, but the haze creeping into his mind tells him it’s been enough.

The alcohol numbs the storm raging inside of him, dulls the sharp edges of his thoughts. But it doesn’t erase them. He wishes it did.

The bartender eyes him warily, probably wondering if he should cut him off, but before anything can be said, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here again so soon.”

Bucky tenses. He knows that voice. 

Natalie.

He doesn’t turn right away, staring into his half-empty glass, as if he can will her away by ignoring her. But she doesn’t take the hint. She slides into the seat next to him, ordering herself a drink like she belongs there. Like no time has passed.

“You look like you’ve had a rough night,” she muses, stirring her drink with the tip of her straw. “Or is it a rough life?”

Bucky exhales sharply, finally turning to her. His vision is blurry, the whiskey having done its job. Natalie’s face is softer than he remembers, her dark eyes studying him like she can still read him as easily as she used to.

“What do you want?” His voice is rough, tired.

Natalie tilts her head, giving him that same playful smirk she used to. “Come on, Bucky. Can’t I just want to talk?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Since when have you ever just wanted to talk?”

She leans in closer, the scent of her perfume hitting him all at once. It’s the same scent from before—a ghost from a life he’s tried to forget. The alcohol makes his head swim.

She touches his arm, her fingers light and familiar. “You know, I’ve missed you.”

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move.

And then she’s kissing him.

At first, he barely registers it. His body feels heavy, his mind a fog. He doesn’t push her away. Maybe because he doesn’t have the strength to. Maybe because, for a second, it’s easier to give in than to keep fighting against everything crashing down inside his mind.

And then—

“Bucky?”

A voice. Your voice.

Bucky blinks, the world tilting slightly as he pulls back, his lips tingling from where Natalie’s had been. He looks up and sees you standing there, eyes wide, hurt etched into every part of your expression.

Beside you, Sam stands stiffly, his jaw tight with disappointment.

Shit.

Natalie smirks, sitting back like she just won something.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. His mind is too fogged with whiskey, his body too slow to react. But he sees the way your face falls, the way you swallow hard, like you’re forcing yourself to keep it together.

“I was looking for you,” you say, your voice quieter now. “I thought—” You stop yourself, shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter.”

Sam steps in, exhaling sharply. “Come on, man. Let’s get you home before you make more of a mess of things.”

Bucky doesn’t resist when Sam grabs his arm, hauling him to his feet. His legs feel unsteady beneath him. He chances one more look at you, but you’ve already turned away, blinking rapidly like you’re trying not to cry.

And it hits him, then—he’s fucked up.

Getting Bucky back to his apartment is a quiet affair. He barely remembers the walk home, his mind swimming between the whiskey and the weight of what he’s done.

You don’t say a word. You don’t look at him.

Once inside, Sam guides him toward the couch, sighing as he helps him sit. “Sleep it off,” he mutters, clearly pissed. “And when you wake up, figure out what the hell you really want before you hurt her more than you already have.”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He just stares at the floor, stomach twisting with guilt.

You, on the other hand, disappear down the hall. You don’t check on him. You don’t ask if he’s okay. Instead, you close yourself off in the guest room, the sound of the door clicking shut feeling final.

Inside, you collapse onto the bed, burying your face into the pillow. The tears come before you can stop them, silent and hot against your skin.

This wasn’t how this trip was supposed to go.

You thought you were here to connect. To build something real. Romantic or not, you thought this was important. That you were important to him.

But tonight had shown you that no matter how much you wanted to be there for Bucky, you couldn’t let him hurt you in the process.

And as you cry yourself to sleep, you wonder if maybe... maybe this trip is already falling apart.

Bucky wakes up to a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and the unmistakable feeling that he’s done something really, really stupid. His memories from the night before are hazy, but flashes of the bar, the whiskey burning his throat, and then—Natalie. His stomach churns as he sits up in bed, trying to piece it together.

The apartment is silent. No sign of you.

Then he hears voices—Sam’s voice, low and firm, from the kitchen. Bucky rubs a hand over his face, bracing himself as he stumbles out of bed and into the hall.

Sam stands in the kitchen, arms crossed, looking unimpressed. “You look like hell,” he says.

Bucky groans, grabbing a bottle of water from the counter. “Thanks.”

“You remember what happened last night?” Sam asks, and his tone tells Bucky all he needs to know.

He swallows hard. “Not...everything.”

Sam scoffs. “Well, let me remind you. We found you at the bar—making out with Natalie.”

Bucky’s grip tightens around the bottle. His stomach drops. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.” Sam shakes his head. “She saw, man. She saw everything.”

Bucky looks toward the closed guest room door, his chest tightening. “Where is she?”

“Locked herself in there after we got you home.” Sam sighs. “She was upset. Hurt. And I don’t blame her.”

Bucky looks away, shame settling deep in his bones. “I didn’t mean to…”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t mean to what? Get drunk and let your ex suck you back in? You’re the one who keeps saying you’re not ready for anything, but that girl in there—she’s been trying. She’s been patient with you.” He shakes his head. “And you go and do this?”

Bucky stays quiet, guilt gnawing at him.

“You need to fix this,” Sam says simply before walking past him, leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts.

You wake up feeling hollow. Your eyes are heavy from the restless night, your body sluggish as you force yourself out of bed.

You face the day anyway, pulling yourself together as best you can. You quietly slip out of the guest room, careful not to make too much noise. The last thing you want is to run into Bucky. But as soon as you step into the living room, you freeze.

Bucky is already there, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. The sight of him—his slumped shoulders—makes you feel sad for the way he is feeling, wanting to help him through it but you can’t shake off the sadness in your own body.

The moment he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes meet yours, his blue eyes popping against the redness surrounding the beautiful irises. 

Your pulse stutters, but you force yourself to keep moving. You hastily grab your jacket and shoes, fingers fumbling more than they should.

Bucky stands up slowly, hesitant. “Can we talk?” His voice sounds rough from the after effects of the alcohol. 

You shake your head, keeping your gaze firmly on the floor. “Not right now.”

He exhales sharply, like he wants to fight it, wants to make you stay. But he doesn’t. He just nods and sinks back down onto the couch.

You don’t say another word as you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you shut the door behind you.

You don’t know where you’re going, only that you need to walk. To breathe. To clear your head.

You make it a few blocks before the weight of everything threatens to crush you.

Without thinking, you pull out your phone and call the one person who will understand.

Wanda.

She picks up on the second ring. “Hey, you! How’s the city? Tell me everything—” Her voice is warm, excited, and it makes your chest tighten painfully.

“I—” Your voice breaks before you can even get the words out.

Instantly, her tone shifts. “What happened?”

You swallow hard, sitting down on a bench near a small café, gripping your phone like it’s a lifeline. “It’s Bucky,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda’s quiet for a beat, then she sighs. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

So you do.

You tell her about the bar, about how Natalie showed up, about how Bucky disappeared afterward. About how you searched for him, only to find him tangled up with his ex in a dark corner of the bar. How Sam had to help you get him home. How you locked yourself in the guest room, crying yourself to sleep, feeling more lost than ever.

Wanda, who has been silent the entire time, finally speaks. “That absolute idiot.”

Despite everything, you let out a weak, watery laugh. “Yeah.”

“I mean, I knew he had some emotional walls up, but this?” Wanda scoffs. “That’s next-level self-sabotage. What the hell was he thinking?”

“He wasn’t,” you say quietly. “That’s the problem.”

Wanda sighs again, softer this time. “Are you okay?”

You close your eyes, leaning back against the bench. “I don’t know.”

“That’s fair,” she says gently. “But listen to me—you didn’t deserve that. You have been there for him for the past what, like seven months, and he just—he just threw it away.”

“I don’t think he meant to,” you murmur, feeling the need to defend him. “He’s just… scared.”

“Scared or not, he still hurt you,” Wanda says firmly. “And that’s not okay.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. “I know.”

A pause. Then—“Do you want to come home?”

The question catches you off guard. Do you?

You swallow hard, considering it. You could leave now, book an early flight back to Oregon. Escape this mess before it gets any worse.

But then you think about Bucky. About the past seven months. About the way he looked at you last night, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.

You shake your head. “No. Not yet.”

“Are you sure?” Wanda’s voice is laced with concern. “Because if you say the word, I’ll book you the next flight myself.”

You let out a small breath, touched by her unwavering support. “I just… I need to figure this out first.”

“Okay,” she says, though you can hear the hesitation in her voice. “But promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“If he keeps breaking your heart, don’t stick around to let him do it again.”

You close your eyes, nodding. “I promise.”

Bucky hates the silence between you. He hates the way you won’t meet his eyes—the way the air between you feels colder than it did when you were hundreds of miles apart.

For the first time in a long time, he realizes what real fear feels like. Not the fear of getting hurt, but the fear of losing someone who actually matters.

Natalie doesn’t matter like this.

You do.

And he’s afraid he’s already ruined it.

That night, after pacing the length of his apartment, after running through every possible thing he could say, Bucky finds himself in front of the guest room door. His hand hovers over the wood for what feels like an eternity before he forces himself to knock.

There’s a pause. A hesitation. Then, the door cracks open.

“Please,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just talk to me.”

You hesitate, your expression unreadable as you lean against the frame, arms crossed tightly over your chest. There’s no warmth in your posture, no hint of the connection you once shared so easily.

“What is there to talk about, Bucky?” Your voice is calm, but he can hear the hurt beneath it. And it kills him.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up.”

“Yeah,” you say, sharper than you intend. “You did.”

He exhales, the weight of your words settling deep in his chest. “I don’t have an excuse. I was drunk, I was an idiot, and I—I let my past mess with my head.” His voice falters. “But none of that changes the fact that I care about you.”

You flinch at his words, and he sees the way you tighten your grip around yourself, like you’re holding yourself together.

“Funny way of showing it.”

Bucky’s face falls, and you hate how much it hurts to see him like this—how much you still want to reach for him.

“You don’t trust yourself to let someone in,” you say quietly, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “But do you really have to hurt me in the process?”

Bucky swallows hard. “No,” he says, his voice rough and ragged. “And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself, but your emotions are too raw. “I don’t know if that’s enough, Bucky.”

There’s a moment—a heartbeat—where it feels like he might reach for you. Like maybe he’ll finally step past his own fear and just try.

But he doesn’t.

And that tells you everything you need to know.

Your grip on the doorknob tightens. You take a step back.

Then, without another word, you close the door.

Leaving Bucky standing there, his past and his regrets pressing down on him like a weight he may never be able to lift.

And for the first time since you arrived in Brooklyn, you wonder if this whole thing was a mistake.

Thank you so much for reading <3 please reblog or comment below, I love hearing your thoughts and feedback!

part four

[khristie16]

Social dance ¬ One

An old soul, lost in a modern society ruled by concepts which are normalised. Unable to follow them even if tried enough, a risk to be left alone in the dark, where shadows control life and decisions. To learn the normalised and be stumped in it or unlearn some patterns?

trope: childhood friends -> enemies to lovers format: reader x charles leclerc

triggers in this chapter: physically absent father You're free to leave a comment on how you like it, besos❀

Growing up in a tranquil neighbourhood, where silence was only occasionally interrupted by the distant hum of life, seemed mundane as a child. But now, you find yourself yearning for those days when the world was filled with the magic of fairy tales and the innocent fear of imaginary monsters under your bed. The simplicity of those days, when the biggest worry was dark shadows, feels like a comforting memory against the complexities of adult life.

Even as an adult, there's a part of you that still believes in the fantastical creatures that once haunted your dreams, a reminder of the vibrant imagination of youth. You fondly remember Charles, the boy next door, whose presence was as constant as the changing seasons. Living with his two brothers, he was an integral part of your childhood tapestry.

Those summers spent playing with water guns and pretending to be gangsters, with homemade lemonade as your elixir, are cherished memories. The lemonade's tangy sweetness seemed to cool the essence of summer's heat. As second grade rolled around, new friendships began to form, reshaping the landscape of your young heart.

You laugh now at the simplicity of those early days, where girls played with girls and boys did the same. It was a natural progression, the formation of new groups, so subtle you barely noticed it happening.

As time flowed on, your thirteenth birthday brought with it life-changing news. Your father, a dedicated and brilliant engineer, announced his move to a different city for a better job. His unwavering commitment to providing financial security and happiness for you and your mother was evident, a priority that guided his every decision.

As an introverted and shy girl, you cherished the few friendships you had but longed for close ones. You craved big gatherings but remained loyal to your initial choices.

High school began, and the absence of your best friend at the same school made the transition even harder. Making new friends proved challenging as your interests diverged from those of your classmates. The boys seemed indifferent, drawn to different types of girls. This solitude pushed you to delve into your passions—hobbies and sports that brought you joy—and deepened the bond with your father through shared interests.

Charles reentered your life, capturing your attention once more. As a natural observer, you noted the subtle ways girls behaved around him, ways that were foreign to you. There seemed to be a pattern to their actions, a social dance you hadn't yet mastered. So, you stood on the sidelines, watching and learning.

The classroom buzzes with the low hum of chatter, but your mind is elsewhere. Lost in thoughts, you barely notice your friend, Mary, seated beside you.

“What are you looking at?” Mary's voice breaks through your reverie.

Mary, the blue-eyed gamer girl, sits next to you. Her dark, fine hair frames her face, and her headphones rest casually on her shoulders. She hums a Korean song softly while sketching on her graphic tablet.

You shrug your shoulders. “Nothing.”

Mary nods, her attention returning to her art. After a few moments, she glances at you with curiosity. “Seriously, what are you trying to find there?”

Your gaze drifts to Charles—handsome, with a tall figure and brown, curly hair that looks irresistibly touchable. He's smiling at your classmate Liz, who exudes beauty and confidence. An ache spreads in your chest, but you quickly dismiss it as irrational.

“He's hot,” Mary comments casually.

You snap your head towards her, eyes wide in surprise. Mary chuckles at your reaction. “What? It's the truth.”

You shake your head, looking down at your hands. They could use some care, evidence of your passion for hobbies that leave oil under your nails. You've developed the habit of hiding them, but it's clear what you do in your free time.

Mary studies you closely, concern etched on her face. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head again, adjusting your position for comfort. “Nothing, just the usual,” you lie, hating the words as you say them.

“Jeez, I hope the trip will change you a bit,” Mary says, pecking your cheek affectionately.

You chuckle, appreciating her honesty. It's one of the things you love about her. Despite everything, she's always genuine.

You observe the boys, noting how they pay attention to specific girls—girls who aren't like you. You prefer your big T-shirts, allowing comfort while eating a hamburger, and you like your hair in a bun, keeping it out of the way while working under a car.

Your fondness for everything that reminds you of your dad is something you wouldn't change, not even for Charles's wandering eyes. You wish he could see you differently, or more accurately, see you at all.

Ironically, you talk more with his younger brother, Arthur. He's the youngest and always tried to keep up with you and Charles when you played as kids. Arthur has a soft spot for you because you remind him of home. You've known each other since childhood, and you've always looked out for him.

Unfortunately, Arthur started his first year here and is busy with his own life.

“Yeah, it could do me some good,” you murmur, zoning out as you think about the upcoming trip.

Flashback: Two weeks ago

Sweat drips into your eyes as you breathe heavily under the car, working diligently to put the parts back together.

“YN!”

You turn your head to see who's calling, though you already know. Long, slim legs in a pleated pink skirt stand at the doorway.

You push yourself out from under the car and grab a towel to wipe your face. “Yes, Mom?”

You have your mother's eyes—brown and almond-shaped, though yours are lighter, more amber than her dark chocolate. Your father's green eyes give you a unique blend. Your mother is a lady, elegant and beautiful, and you love her just as much as your father.

“I need to talk to you, hun.”

You nod and stand up, ready to listen.

Your mom is looking at you with a pitying look yet a sweet smile, which makes you feel like the sore leg of the whole family. As a child, when the family was still together, you did not experience such feelings. You concluded that this is a natural human development, causing people to feel worse mentally and often physically in today's world. You shook yourself out of your mother's piercing eyes. She misses your dad as much as you do.

The pitying look comes from her resentment of you spending so much time in the garage and not having a life like everyone else. Though your mom was never one of those women who wanted to take it far; she always stayed at home and raised you. For this, you are glad, but you wouldn't believe she could begrudge your decision. Maybe she hates when you ride your motorbike in the rain and it's stuffy every time you come back home.

You had to admit that the adrenaline was the only thing that made you feel alive. And if you didn't have your female friends in your life, you'd probably be even worse off. Sometimes you agreed when this thought made its way to the top of your consciousness, but you chose to ignore it. Every time, it made your heart sink and form a lump in your throat.

The most devastating feeling about it all was that you had a life, in a way. Hobbies, skills, and intelligence allowed you to sail through school academically, but you still felt empty. At first, you said it was puberty, but it took a long time. Even your friends had something you were missing, but you didn't know what it was. When you started to think about it longer, you didn't come to any conclusion. Maybe there's something more to it that you don't know about, but your mom's presence brought you back to the present when her soft and kind hands touched yours.

“Sweetie, your dad and I were thinking that you could visit my sister in Italy. Do you still remember her?”

You sigh, remembering her. She is everything you are not and probably never will be. Full of life, five men in each palm, and her life revolves around fun, a little work, and a lot of sex. You don't blame her, but you wonder why your parents want to send you there.

“You know, she's busy now. She started a babysitting business, and you know Eve. She's a nut, and when she sent me videos, she had about ten kids there at once, but her grace makes everything easier.”

At this point, you want to collapse, go back under the car, and not get out. Your shock is evident because your mom squeezes your hands.

“It would only take a few weeks. You were always so patient and responsible; it would help her a lot.”

Her words warm your heart slightly. At least someone appreciates these qualities. The problem is that it isn't the real reason they want to send you there. But you know your mom too well to pry the information out of her even if you'd asked.

You sigh. “You know school has started and I need to study.”

“It doesn't matter; I already arranged it at school. You will have an individual plan for the time you are not here.”

Unfortunately or not, your face has the ability to show every emotion and thought swirling inside. You want to curse yourself for it the second your mom stands up straight, ready to insist you listen. You raise your hands in anticipation that you weren't going to talk about it any further and go back under the car. After Mom sulks in the garage for a little while longer, deciding it would be better if you both cooled down, you get up again and go to the phone.

Dad picks it up on the other end. “Hello, sunshine, how are you?”

This time, you don't bother with small talk. “Why are you and Mom sending me away?”

Dad is silent for a second and then starts, “So she already told you. I told her to wait until I come for the weekend.”

“That's nice, but I want a reason.”

“Your mother thinks you lack certain skills.”

“Like what?”

Your blood is boiling, and you want to punch the wall or the ground. Right now, you don't care.

“Your mother told me how she was raised differently and she would like it for you as well. She is afraid you'll fall behind—”

You admire how your father is attentive to your mother's wishes, but right now you wish it were otherwise. Dad doesn't have a firm hand when it comes to Mom's feelings, so he allows her everything she has in her heart.

“—that we will send you there for a few months and see how it will benefit you.”

“What? Mom said a few weeks…”

“It wouldn't make much sense. It's far away.”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes and you feel helpless, just like you experience every day at school, but this time much more intense. The other part of you that survives inside is being ripped apart, leaving you with heavy breathing.

“Baby, wait for me to come home. You'll be fine.”

“How could I be fine when you want to send me a billion miles away?”

Dad just sighs. You can tell he’s sorry too, but he's adamant that it will benefit you.

“You'll see. You’ll be able to teach your aunt how to fix cars.”

A small smile forms on your face as you start laughing. The image of your aunt under the car is enough to break the tension. After the phone call with Dad, you head to the living room to talk to Mom, but someone knocks on the door. Mindlessly, you go to open it and there stands Charles.

Except he has Liz wrapped around his neck, hanging on him like a coat on a hanger, with lipstick smeared all over her face. No wonder she wasn't cast for the Joker adaptation. Charles stares blankly with a smudge of lipstick on his face.

After the initial shock, you ask what they would like.

Charles enlightens you about their visit: he needs to pick up some of your mom's freshly baked healthy bread for his mom, without lactose and all the other things discussed in magazines you don't read. You close the door to call your mom. Before you can do that, Liz speaks.

“Is that a boy or a girl?”

You flush like a pan on the stove, not hearing your mother's footsteps as she suddenly appears in front of you with her hands full of buns. You swallow and open the door a little more. This time, you focus your gaze on Liz, who you want to punch in the face and hope her hair turns gray when she sees herself in the mirror.

But when you look at Charles, you see that he’s amused by Liz's comment, as he has a smirk on his face. It doesn’t make you angry; it hurts you.

You wouldn’t expect that from someone like him. You spent your entire childhood together, and you hoped he would at least protect you. Somehow. But who are you to him for him to do something like that? After all, you haven't talked to each other in a long time.

And a part of you is glad to soon be away from people who box you in and don't care anymore.

Now

Back in your room, you start packing reluctantly. Mary calls and tries to cheer you up, suggesting that Italy might be an adventure you need, even if you can’t see it yet.

A few days later, you’re at the airport, saying goodbye to your mom. Her eyes are teary, and she hugs you tightly. “Remember, this is for your own good, sweetheart. Have an open mind, okay?”

You nod, though you’re not entirely convinced. The flight feels long, but you distract yourself by imagining what Italy will be like. When you arrive, your aunt Eve is there to greet you, her bright smile and effervescent personality already overwhelming.

“Welcome to Italy, darling! We’re going to have so much fun!” she exclaims, pulling you into a hug.

You manage a smile, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this trip will help you find whatever it is you’ve been missing. Eve’s place is bustling with activity—kids everywhere, laughter, and chaos. It’s a stark contrast to your quiet, introspective life.

In the following days, you settle into a routine. Helping Eve with the children keeps you busy, and you start to appreciate the small moments of joy in their innocent smiles and giggles. One evening, as you’re tucking in one of the kids, Eve joins you.

“You’re really good with them,” she says softly. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot.”

You nod, feeling a sense of warmth. It’s nice to be appreciated. “It’s different, but I’m getting used to it.”

Eve smiles. “You know, I see a lot of your mom in you. She was always so responsible and patient. But don’t forget to have fun, too. Life is too short to be serious all the time.”

Her words linger with you as you navigate the days. Slowly, you start to explore more—venturing out into the vibrant streets of Italy, tasting the food, and absorbing the culture. You even meet some locals who introduce you to new hobbies and interests.

One afternoon, while you’re out exploring, you receive a text from Mary. “Hey, guess what? Charles asked about you today. He seemed surprised you left.”

You stare at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Before you can overthink it, another message comes in. “Maybe this trip will show him what he’s missing out on.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. Italy is changing you, bit by bit. You’re finding pieces of yourself you didn’t know were missing. And maybe, just maybe, when you return, you’ll be ready to face whatever comes your way—whether it’s Charles, school, or just life in general.

With renewed determination, you continue to embrace your time in Italy, knowing that this experience is shaping you into a stronger, more confident person. And who knows? Maybe when you return home, you’ll be ready to show the world the real you.

[2000sangel]

Hi! I saw that you were paired with Adam and what it would be like in a relationship, so I wanted to try :)

☆Name: Pia.

☆Sexuality: Bisexual.

☆Personality: INFJ, I consider myself empathetic, kind, calm, creative, introverted and very sensitive. If someone comments on something I like, I talk non-stop.

☆Likes: animals and insects, I really love video games, especially those about history or decision making, reading horror books, cryptozoology, unsolved cases, the paranormal, I really love nature, I like comics, listening to metal and calm music, coffee, I like physical contact.

☆ Hobbies: Drawing would be my biggest hobby, I always draw anywhere, play video games, read.

☆Sorry if you don't understand, it's not my language.

Hi Pia!! Thank you so much for sending in one of these!  Been busy with writing that one long fic but now I can continue with a few of these :) Let’s see...

「✦Adam x You Headcanons✦」

: ̗̀➛Your calm and kind personality is beneficial for an asshole like Adam, to put it quite frankly. He needs to calm down a bit sometimes, and you’re the perfect individual to call in those occasions. The closer you two get, the less he acts in a typical Adam-esque manner, because he knows that you don’t particularly enjoy being the centre of attention and something he might say could hurt your feelings. When he’s with you, he simply dismisses annoying angels with a look of disapproval or he drags you away with one of his massive golden wings.

: ̗̀➛Adam loves physical contact! I would dare to say that he’s physical contact’s biggest fan. He loves giving it and receiving it all the same, though some times he might be more in the mood for one or the other. When you’re relaxing on the couch together, he likes you placing your legs on his lap, or if you’re the one sitting up he will put his head on your lap lazily and even fall asleep like that. When you’re in bed, especially if you’re planning to take an afternoon nap, he will spoon you with no doubts, covering your bodies with one of his wings during the colder months of the year. It’s quite sweet how even during summer he looks for physical contact, he will lie on the opposite side of the bed but still find a way to touch you with his wing or leg.

: ̗̀➛As a videogame lover, he knows a few titles that you might enjoy, but he gets bored quickly if he’s the one playing that kind of games. So what he likes to do is getting a snack as soon as you position yourself in front of your flat screen TV with your controller in hand, and watch you be smart as he chews on rib-flavoured chips or whatever weird food he’s gotten last time he went to do groceries without you. He asks quite a bit of questions, and even looks up tutorials for you if you need them, and sometimes he’ll act offended because he thought he had gotten it before you when the solution was something entirely different.

: ̗̀➛You take turns on what to watch before bed: videos about the paranormal and unsolved cases, or lives of his favourite streamers? Sometimes whatever you choose ends up being a bit long to watch all in one evening, so the other will lightly complain about having to continue on the next... he’s also a bit (a lot) self-centered, so sometimes he will look up videos that fans record of his own concerts, and tell you fun facts about what happened behind the scenes and if he and his band met some cool fans that night. You’re also in luck on that aspect, because one of his genres is metal!!

: ̗̀➛Heaven has got a bunch of beautiful places that Adam often takes you to, aware of your love for nature. He loves watching you sketch your surroundings, perhaps while the two of you are sat under a large tree or on a secluded bench. He thinks your drawings are beautiful, but he can’t keep his eyes off of you as you concentrate on which detail to add to your illustration next. Sometimes, you’ll act quite silly and ask him to bring you where there’s a lot of flowers so you can put some in his hair...or he’ll guide you to this gorgeous waterfall where angels can swim freely. He knows the best times of the day to go so you don’t find anyone else there, and you can enjoy a nice swim in company of only each other. Careful though, he might get playful and splash you with water with his wings...which are huge, so he’ll accidentally send a whole wave at you! (make sure to get revenge!)

[ask-the-tlm-deities]

Headcanons? Oh I have plenty! (Ignore how I’m a day late, spent that time indulging the deep thoughts)

Metalbeard feels a call to the sea. Similar to a hunter who craves the thrill of the hunt, he craves the adventure of the sea. Now it’s more of an impulse than anything else, an itch that occasionally can be scratched. But in his prime? Oh, it could not be staved off! Every new moon he felt the call of the sea, as on the moonless nights he was offered a true challenge! Only the faint stars to be his guide, and his own intuition. Truly a thrilling time! Now I imagine he works in the freight industry, and stays with Galen when the Sea Cow (his cargo ship) pulls into the port of New Orleans.

The winter solstice was caused by Benny refusing to leave the underworld any longer than he had to. Whether or not this has anything to do with Bad’s separation anxiety and Balthie telling him how nervous and restless Bad gets when he’s gone is……confidential. The summer solstice was caused by Benny staying on harmony, as that is the day the earth is farthest from the sun, which means it is the closest he gets to his siblings.

Emmet was absolutely enamored with the first world’s fair. He went to every one, and took pride in the creativity of the inventors involved. He cried (tears of joy but also Unikitty would’ve loved the ride and he missed her) when he rode It’s a Small World (which debuted at the 1964 Worlds fair). This was an event which he enjoyed with his almost equally enthusiastic father, since the world’s fair was often used as sales pitches for budding inventors. There were attractions for the whole gang of course; Galen enjoyed seeing the telephone in the 1876 centennial world’s fair and Mayhem enjoyed seeing the arts. Watevra would sample the foods, as ice cream cones also debuted at the 1904 world’s fair.

Watevra is the ultimate cheerleader to the bat fam’s chaotic vigilantism. She keeps Bruce in check but is all for him and his adopted family’s eccentricities. She thinks it’s funny.

Mayhem can kick butt in strategy board games and excels at tactical video games. She may be fair, but she’s a Princess peach main in smash bros ultimate so you know you’re not winning. Ever. The only person who has beat her fairly was Vitruvius when they were playing checkers. He played to annoy her for his own amusement and wound up winning accidentally. She’s just built different.

Galen has the kitschiest collection of sentimental Knick Knacks and oddities. It’s a disorganized mess and it drives Busy up the wall. Give him anything he even shows slight interest in and he will take it back to his nest-I mean shop-and puts it with his other trinkets. Not in a hoarder kind of way but more “look at this cool rock I found”. It’s shiny and relates to his interests? It’s his. No exceptions. ADHD king.

Balthie is still Bad’s assistant and does errands for him because we all know Bad’s an introvert. You want juicy gossip from the dead? He’s heard it all. Nothing eludes Balthie. Nothing. In his free time he eats avocado toast and goes on relaxing spa days. Gotta keep up the ghoulish couture!

And this is only some of my headcanons. If I organize my thoughts better I’ll be back for round two! Hehehehehe ^€^

Metalbeard: The first part of that? Yes, absolutely. He's actually a marine biologist now though, and an environmental activist with a focus on cleaning up the ocean.

Benny: Pretty much exactly that, yep.

Emmet: Absolutely.

Watevra: Also very much yes.

Mayhem: This one had me cracking up SO hard. Also? 1000% yes.

Galen: Also correct. He does love his souvenirs lol. Most visitors to his shop don't realize some of them really are that old though & think they're just repros, so he keeps the more delicate ones out of reach.

Balthazar: You know it. ALL the juicy gossip and avocado toast.

[noxspost]

Warm and bubbly night character and cold burning day character

so we know how the sunshine character is bubbly sociable person right? the moon character is often reserved quiet, more peaceful and is less energetic than the sunshine character. What if it is was the opposite?

Well Artemis is not that type of person she's more introverted and reserved but what if one of her kids (she has kids like how athena has kids. It's just both parties are aware unlike with athena.) So I had been witting verin in a demigod AU being a artemis child and now I have an idea to have Essek be a demigod too, but not in the way you think. He isn't going to be a that demigod child to a more misunderstood deity. No, he's gonna be an Apollo child.

You know the night and day duo? Well verin is the night part of the duo and essek is the day half.

So during Winter the days are really cold and also the sun is a very overpowering and burns you essentially. That is essek. He is bright, he is social, but it always has a malicious intent to it before he met his friends, he was dangerously and he can burn so bright That it burns and causes people not to be social with them with the exception of his brother.

but the night time can be dangerous as well. Verin can be dangerous as well.He's trained in the military, but the night is also quiet, calm.

There is such things as a warm yet still relatively cool night. The moon guides people, it's like a less aggressive son but still holds dangers and secrets and with it being cold at night during the summer. It gives people reprieve from the scorching heat of the summer sun. Of course, these summer humidity still annoying.

Also In all honesty, I thought it was funny.

[sellenite]

11 + 12 + 13 for the ask game! 💝

hello Roma, my love 🫶🌷🫶 thank you for stopping by, I love all of these questions a lot :')

I'm once again answering for Suguru 😭 I should have thought this through a little more before I reblogged this, but he's like my only self-ship 🥲 anywhooo:

11. calling each other by their names, plain and simple, or calling each other really flowery pet names?

Suguru isn't one for very flowery pet names, so I think he mainly uses my name. however, I think he does use some more classic terms of endearment like "baby" and "my love." he calls me "sweet girl" a lot too because he knows it makes me blush 😭😭

and I think for him, I mainly use his name because I love it so much + I really like the nickname "Su" for him <333 and I call him "handsome" a lot :3

12. constantly hanging off each other or keeping a tame distance in public?

I kind of touched on this already, but I don't think Suguru is big on PDA. so I think if we're out and about he keeps it tame, but he likes to hold my hand while we walk together or guide me gently with his palm on the small of my back. very delicate, but still meaningful touches.

13. stay at home dates or out on the town dates?

even though we're both introverts, I think we like to go out for our dates! we like to go to concerts together a lot, and I think we do this all year round. but in the spring and summer (when the weather is sunny but it's still cool enough for comfort) we go to the park and he reads his book out loud to me in his beautiful voice while I sketch pictures of him in my notebook :') and he feeds me blackberries because they're both our favorite <3

sobbing over all of these now 😭😭 he is so romantic in my mind

[noaltbruh]

hi you should totally do what its like do what its like to live with the bucci gang in a house all together thxx

*Kicks the air, giggles, screams into a pillow, throws up, dies and comes back to life just to write this post*

No bro I don't think you understand, you've just awoken my most unhinged side ever, literally I think about what it would be like to live with this wonderful family 24/h. There is nothing else in my brain, just them doing shit.

So yeah! I hope you enjoy ^^"

Life with the Bucci gang! 🐞🤐🔫🍊🍓⏪🎙 (or rather, a survival guide about living with them)

Alright, the main rule in this house is: "Don't kill each other. If you absolutely need to, at least hide the body well before it starts smelling like Mista"

Any other rule is either ignored, purposely broken, straight up not acknowledged, or only followed because Bruno said so and you don't disobey him.

Congratulations, you just got yourself free entertainment for the rest of your life and at any time of the day. Who needs Tv when you can just watch these guys do literally anything?

What are you in the mood for today? Trish kicking Mista with a shoe because he accidentally ruined her dress? Narancia blowing up with Aerosmith that one spider Fugo is afraid to squash? Giorno turning everything he sees into frogs? Abbacchio trying not to look like a total simp every time Bruno breathes?

With that being said, I hope you're not an introvert, my friend. There's no freaking way in hell they aren't going to drag you on their shenanigans. No, you can't choose, you will take part in whatever the heck they're doing, they're forcefully gonna make you tag along if you were to ooppose.

Buddy say goodbye to your privacy, that stopped existing as soon as you walked through the front door. 99% of the times there will ALWAYS be someone with you. Whether they're actually talking to you or are just in the same room as you doesn't matter. Rest assured that being alone will become a rare occurrence, no matter how antisocial you may be.

Don't try to lock the door of your room, they'll gladly destroy it and then ask Bruno to replace it with a zipper. Alternatively, some of them might even climb up from a window if they're feeling goofy that day.

I advice locking any snacks you may want to keep to yourself in a drawer or another place you know of. If you don't, there's a very high chance that whatever you were trying to keep to yourself will get stolen by the pistols sooner or later.

Another advice I can give you is to write down all important dates related to them, or little things you know they like. It must not be easy to remember those sorts of things when you live with so many people.

Most days you're gonna find Trish practising her singing in either the music room (yes they have a music room) or her own. Don't be shy and ask her if you can listen to her, she'll always reply with a yes :)

They have a very big and well taken care of garden. If you feel like spending some time with Giorno, helping him water the plants is a great idea! Prepare for lots of fun facts about gardening, while you're at it.

I suggest laying there particularly during summer nights. There's always a nice breeze to send the excessive heat away, and the stars look very nice from there. Someone else will most likely join you as well, you can stargaze together!

If you feel like having a conversation that requires more than two brain cells, Fugo's always there for you. He's used to some of the others calling him boring and such, but a nice chat about Latin, Politics, Philosophy or anything alongside those lines is always welcomed. Even if you don't know anything about those subjects but are willing to listen, he'll be happy.

Prepare for Narancia bursting in your room with a new dance, a song to listen to, or cool trick he's come up using Aerosmith, and way too much excitement. The latter one is only allowed if you're in the garden, but try to stop him from shooting any plants while you're there.

Drunk conversations with Abbacchio at 3 am. are a MUST. He'll only ever share his alcohol if he's feeling dizzy already, so wait until he starts getting a bit off and you're good to go. Do you remember anything you talked about after that night? Nope. Maybe you discussed the meaning of life, maybe you just yelled at the Tv watching old races of formula one, or maybe you've found the cure for cancer...But you'll never know.

Bruno is a safe space in the house. If you want to catch a break and take it easy from the others' chaos, he's the most reliable one. You don't have to necessarily do anything together if you don't want to, but his presence alone guaranteed to make you relax.

Don't go into the basement, please. It used to be a nice and tidy place where Bruno kept old stuff he didn't need anymore, but it progressively became more and more messy once the gang came along. Now legends say that old artifacts and mystical objects, such as Mista's hair, ended up there and were never found again.

The house has a lot of very pretty balconies with a wonderful view of the city. A couple of times a day you should go out and take some fresh air admiring Napoli, it's very soothing.

The roof is also a perfect place to if you look for a great sight of the town. If you're brave enough, you can climb up from one of the balconies. If you're not, that's fine: there's a safer ladder that will bring you there in the backyard, and you always have the support of the others if you felt scared anyway :)

Speaking of which...Yes, they may come off as extremely annoying and overbearing sometimes, but remember that once you settled in, you're family to them and there's no changing that.

They will ALWAYS be there for you, no matter what the problem or your reaction to it might be. Rest assured that you won't have to face it nor suffer alone, they'll all there to lend a hand for you and help you through it. Even if you're just feeling sad for no reason, someone will undoubtedly try to cheer you up, and succeed in doing so.

Sure, maybe some of them are not the best at expressing that they care, but they truly do and will show it to you in one way or another, whether it's direct or subtle, they will let you know you can count on them.

Movie and game nights are...Something else for sure! Every time one or two people get to pick what you're gonna play or watch, and since they have very different tastes, you can be sure as you can be that you'll enjoy yourself and have fun.

For example, one week you're watching the most gut-wrenching disturbing, complex and traumatizing movie of all time, picked by Abbacchio just to scare you all for his own amusement. Narancia will be screaming, Trish is acting like she's fine but is actually holding on to someone, Giorno is getting shushed by everyone because he's got a third eye and is somehow predicting the whole plot. A loud "SHUT THE FUCK UP, GIORNO!" from our goth man is gonna be obligatory.

The other week, instead, Mista and Narancia decided you were going to play Smash, and you WILL be playing Smash. Poor Bruno is trying to find the pattern to the attacks and fails to realize that those two dorks just spam random buttons hoping to win. Needless to say, they end up losing anyway. Also, Fugo almost threw the controller and broke the Tv a couple of times, but shhh it's okay they're rich, they can buy a new one.

The sweetest part about these "events", however, is that at the end of the night, you're all super tired. You'll just end up falling asleep all together in the salon, cuddling up against each other to feel warm, without even realizing it. The Morning after, whoever wakes up first usually makes breakfast for the rest, so you all also eat together before actually starting your day ^^

Get this through your system: no matter the time of the day, someone will be up. There isn't a single moment during those 24 hours in which they are all asleep. You'll find Mista sleeping at 3 pm on the living room couch, just to see him stealing salami from the fridge at 2 am while you were just trying to get a glass of water. He won't even let you leave and just ramble about his latest theory about salami.

Yes, your sleep routine is gonna get fucked up too, cope. Also, very often you'll hear noises coming from other rooms, although it's probably just Bruno and Abbacchio banging like there's no tomorrow . When that happens, spend time with someone until you both fall asleep, or get yourself something to block out the noise. (I'd choose the first option, but you do you).

The house has a sort of balcony that acts as an entrance to the garden. On some nights, you may find someone (usually the quietest members) hanging around there. Stop to talk to them for a while, they're weirdly more open about their feelings at that time of the day.

Mista, Narancia and Trish are going to CONSTANTLY ask you to hang out, these guys enjoy the outdoors way too much. Before you know it, you're dressed up to go party in the hugest, loudest, most crowded disco you're ever seen.

Or maybe they're dragging you to a bar and gossip about people all night, OR they're planning to infiltrate in some rich guy's party they only found out about because Trish is famous and knows way too many people.

Don't worry if you get nervous though, they'll stick around by your side to make sure you feel comfortable, and they'll leave if they see you starting get overwhelmed. All of you need to have a good time or it's no fun.

Group reading with Fugo and Giorno. I repeat: group reading with Fugo and Giorno.

Okay, the stuff they recommend might not be the most exciting, but I can guarantee you that if you manage to actually read it, the discussions and conversations you're going to have about it will make up for it. You can basically see their eyes light up and soon as you begin talking and discussing its themes, you'll find yourself carried about by their excitement without even realizing it.

While it's something they usually do alone, sometimes Bruno and Abbacchio will take you fishing with them. It's a complete moment of chill away from the excitement of your everyday life, not to mention that Bucciarati is a great fisherman and dinner that night will be delicious.

If you think these guys are enough chaotic as they are, brace yourself for Holidays time.

Get ready to help decorate the whole house, which, considering its dimensions, is no easy job. The best thing you can do in this case is go with the flow and, most of all, follow Narancia's lead: the two of you will be setting up everything for even DAYS, if it's necessary.

Prepare for constant snowball fights, dudes blasting Christmas music ridiculously loud, alcohol disappearing at an even faster rate than usual, presents flying all over the salon aand lastly...An actual quiet Christmas night where you'll simply be watching a movie together and drinking hot cocoa in front of the fireplace.

Don't be tricked, the next day the extroverted trio is already asking you to go with on them on a Christmas themed party. Good luck.

You guys fight over the best spot under the air conditioner during Summer time, and the winner always turns out to be Trish. Alternately, if someone's able to compromise enough, you'll go get something fresh to change the mood a bit.

One last thing I'd like to mention is that, in the middle of the living room, there is a big frame with all eight of you smiling together. If things ever get rough, look up and remember that your family is always there for you :)

[abalathia]

 LFRP                 ESJA FIALA ( eh - juh       fee - al - uh )

THE BASICS ––– –

Age: Unknown.

Birthday: 16th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon.

Race: Veena Viera.

Gender: Female.

Sexuality: Bisexual.

Marital Status: Single.

Server: Balmung.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE ––– –

Hair: Light ash brown in the summer and cool brown in the winter months.

Eyes: Pale violet, almost blue.

Height: 6′3″.

Build: Lithe.

Distinguishing Marks: Face paint; various scars and tattoos.

Common Accessories: Horn/bone earrings and brass jewelry.

PERSONAL ––– –

Profession: Survivalist and bounty hunter.

Hobbies: Wood and leatherworking, exploration, hunting.

Languages: Common, Woodspeak.

Residence: Somewhere in the North Shroud.

Birthplace: Skatay Mountains.

Religion: One long forgotten; mostly nonpracticing.

Patron Deity: None.

Fears: ???

RELATIONSHIPS ––– -

Spouse: None.

Children: None.

Parents: Estranged.

Siblings: Many; estranged.

Other Relatives: Many; all estranged.

Pets: Various critters she’s amassed along her travels.

TRAITS ––– -

* BOLD - Definitive ; ITALIC - Situational

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

ADDITIONAL INFORMATION ––– –

Smoking Habit: Socially. Drugs: Spiritually (nonfrequent). Alcohol: Frequently.

RP HOOKS ––– –

Viera: It is not often to see a Viera beyond the Wood, and while not exactly rare, Esja is instantly drawn to others who have defied the Green Word. 

Tracking: Esja is a skilled hunter with an appetite for excitement and a knack for cornering her prey. While she mostly assists adventurers with hunts, she has been known to assist in locating trophies of a more exotic (human) nature. Of course, bounties require more coin than a common pest, and persuading the Viera to assist might take a bit more than a silver tongue.

Survival: Esja often acts as a guide for fledging adventurers, teaching them to manage on their own. She offers “courses” in scavenging, navigation, first aid, and much more. Be warned: she is as strict as she is savvy, and she will not hesitate to leave the weak-willed behind.

Tavern: Whether it’s a bustling hotspot or a hidden gem on the road, Esja can almost always be found where there is alcohol and a warm bed - especially if there is a hunt board to peruse.

CONTACT INFORMATION  ––– –

In Game: Esja Fiala @ Balmung Discord: Provided when asked for. Tumblr: I respond as soon as I can!

[dweetwise]

some fluffy adamkate for @neilusgrey because this ship is adorable <3 i used some prompts from this post while writing. it fit them too well!

word count: 3320

Adam X Kate: Turn your face to the sun

“So? What do you think?” Kate asked.

Adam looked around their surroundings. They were attending a folk concert held in Kate’s hometown, and even though it wasn’t Adam’s usual scene, he’d been quick to accept when Kate had invited him.

The sun was shining bright in the sky and nearly everyone was smiling, the sound of music getting louder but nowhere near unbearable as they approached the small stage in the middle of the park. There weren’t as many people as Adam had feared, only a small crowd forming in front of the stage.

“It looks nice,” Adam said. “I’m glad you asked me to come.”

“Of course!” Kate said. “It’s about time we—”

“Kate! Over here!” someone shouted from behind them, effectively interrupting their conversation.

Adam watched as Kate turned around to face a group of people, her face cracking into a brilliant smile once she seemed to recognize them.

“Hey, y’all!” Kate beamed, hugging one of the women. “Long time, no see.”

It was strange to see Kate so in her element. Just walking across the park and to the event area, they’d been stopped several times as people wanted to catch up with Kate and a few even asked for her autograph.

“It’s so good to see you! Where have you been?” one of Kate’s current admirers asked.

“Oh, I did a bit of soul-searching,” Kate explained. “Kinda needed to drop off the grid for a while.”

Adam could tell Kate was struggling with the lie. It had been a couple months since their escape from the Entity and they were only just now getting used to the normalcy of the real world. Standing here, being alive and well and surrounded by happy people with the sun shining down on them was almost too good to be true.

“This is my date, Adam!” Kate introduced him.

But the best thing about the situation was that Adam was here with the most incredible woman he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing.

“Nice to meet you,” Adam said, giving a polite nod to the group.

“Likewise!” one of Kate’s friends said. “We’ll leave you to it, but let’s catch up sometime, okay?”

“That sounds lovely!” Kate agreed, before turning to Adam. “Come on, let’s find a good spot!”

Adam followed Kate closer to the stage, almost transfixed on the way her long dress swayed in the gentle breeze. With her flowy sundress and the daisies in her hair, Kate looked like a personification of summer, and Adam was honored to be allowed to bask in her warmth.

It also reminded Adam how overdressed he was for the occasion. He’d chosen to wear a suffocating button-up and stiff chinos that already felt too warm for the weather. Hopefully he’d manage a few hours in the Pennsylvanian summer.

“You wanna stay farther away from the stage?” Kate asked.

“Yes, please,” Adam said with a grateful smile.

Kate knew how much of an introvert he was and she had never appeared to see it as a big deal. The concert was already out of Adam’s comfort zone, so getting some relative privacy would be very welcome.

They found a spot away from the commotion but with a relatively unobstructed view of the stage and Adam pulled out the picnic blanket he’d packed earlier and spread it over the soft grass. All the while Kate kept looking at him in intrigue, making Adam wonder whether he’d done something wrong.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“You have a really good smile, you know that?” Kate said, making Adam realize he’d been smiling the entire time.

“Oh. Thank you,” Adam said, scratching at his neck self-consciously. “I guess I don’t tend to smile that much. Especially after…”

He didn’t need to explain further. Kate nodded in understanding, knowing they all had their own demons to battle after their capture and subsequent escape from the creature that still haunted their nightmares.

“Let’s make some better memories together,” Kate said with an adorable, soft smile.

Adam felt his face heat up and he merely offered a stiff “yes” as they started unpacking their bags.

They’d never officially decided what this was between them. For what felt like years, they’d been closer than friends but not quite lovers. None of the other survivors had batted an eye when Kate sought comfort in Adam’s arms by the campfire every time the trials became too much. There were jokes about them being a couple, sure, but to this day nothing had actually happened between them. Adam had never wanted to push and regardless, a world of violence and death wasn’t exactly the best setting for romance.

But now they were free and Kate had wasted no time in asking him on a date. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he was certain that it had to mean something.

“I brought snacks!” Kate's triumphant grin snapped Adam out of his thoughts.

Adam watched as she retrieved a small box of strawberries as well as a packet of cookies from her beach bag.

“I wanted to have a picnic but didn’t know what you liked, so…” Kate explained.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” Adam said. “I didn’t realize to bring anything…”

“And I didn’t expect you to!” Kate reassured. “Come on, have some!”

They sat down to enjoy the snacks together, catching up on the brief period of time they’d been apart. Adam had been busy with a pile of paperwork about his disappearance in Japan and Kate had temporarily moved in with her parents. It became clear that neither of them were certain what the future would bring.

“There’s so many opportunities!” Kate said. “We can do whatever we want. The freedom is amazing.”

“It is,” Adam agreed. “But also a little overwhelming.”

He had no idea what he would do or where he would even go. All he knew was that he wanted to be near Kate; she was his rock and no matter what happened, he was sure he’d be okay as long as they were together.

Of course, he couldn’t say that out loud. They weren’t a couple and it was a little too intense to place so much importance on their friendship.

“We’ll figure something out,” Kate said, and just her smile was almost enough to reassure Adam.

They sat together and finished the snacks while enjoying the music, until the crowd seemed to get even more invigorated as people got up to dance. Adam watched a small group form in front of the stage with people twirling, jumping and laughing as they danced to the upbeat music.

"Let's join them!" Kate suggested almost immediately.

Adam shouldn’t have been surprised. Kate’s love for music knew no bounds, and even now she was nearly shaking with the boundless energy she always seemed to possess.

"We can't just leave our things," Adam tried to reason. "You go on, I'll stay here."

"Aw, you can’t get rid of me that easily! I wanna dance with you!” Kate said. “Nobody's gonna take anything.”

"I'm not much of a dancer," Adam protested, abruptly feeling the nervousness start to kick in.

"You'll be fine, hun—I promise!" Kate smiled at him and extended her bracelet-clad hand. 

Before the fog had swallowed him all those years ago, Adam would have declined in a heartbeat. But he wanted to believe he had changed. During the last few years, he’d learned he was much more capable than he could have ever imagined—a little dancing surely wouldn’t kill him.

So he grabbed Kate’s hand and let himself be briefly pulled into her world of sunshine and spontaneity.

While they approached the stage, Adam tried his best to learn the choreography by observing people dancing. To his mortification, there didn’t seem to be choreography, all of the dancers seemingly able to effortlessly improvise a professional-looking routine.

By the time they reached their destination, Adam’s hand was sweating where it was holding Kate’s. She didn’t seem to care, only turning to him with a bright smile before settling closer to him in a dance position.

"Don't worry hun, just follow my lead!" Kate said.

Kate started leading him into a dance and Adam followed the best he could. He stared at her feet to try to get the hang of her movements, focusing too hard and completely ignoring the beat—

It was only a matter of time before his foot landed on Kate’s much smaller sandal-covered one.

"Sorry!" Adam apologized, embarrassed over his mistake. “Did I hurt you?”

"Don't worry so much," Kate said. "Look at me and just go with the flow."

Adam lifted his gaze to Kate's face and some of his tension melted away under her familiar smile.

Gradually, he got the hang of it. The song changed but the rhythm of Kate's movements stayed the same, and eventually Adam's clumsy steps got more confident and mirrored the spring in Kate's. He learned to read her ques, changing directions when she did and twirling her around when she wanted to. Kate laughed and giggled while they danced, the smile never leaving her face, like this is what she was made to do.

Adam realized she might not have gotten the chance to dance with anyone before this, not since their escape. Kate was never meant for the dull grey world of the Entity; she was meant for this, sun and music and dancing without a care in the world. And Adam was honored to be able to give it to her.

He lost count of how many songs they danced to. Previously, he might have been embarrassed of letting Kate lead, but any worries about arbitrary gender roles had disappeared during the years where their lives were nothing but survival.

Worrying about the past was the last thing on Adam’s mind as he followed his ray of sunshine into another dance. He was sweating something fierce but he didn't care, absently popping a few buttons on his shirt and rolling up the sleeves to try to cool down. Kate seemingly didn’t tire of dancing, but Adam spotted the redness on her cheeks and the more pronounced breaths she took as they picked up the pace and the exertion started to kick in.

At some point, people started forming a ring in some sort of group dance, and Kate didn’t hesitate to guide them to join in. The choreography was easy to understand this time, Adam effortlessly keeping up as everyone danced in a ring, before partnering up and switching every so often. Even though he stumbled a few times, Adam had always prided himself on being a fast learner.

When Kate twirled herself into being his partner for the finale, Adam found himself laughing. He was having fun.

"See? I knew you'd like it!" Kate said.

“Only you could convince me to do something like this,” Adam said.

Kate laughed with him, the sound radiant and inviting. She was beautiful and so full of light, turning heads even on the makeshift dance floor. He didn’t think he’d ever quite understand what she saw in a nerd like him.

Once the song ended, Kate let out a sigh.

"Whew, I'm beat!" she said.

Adam couldn't agree more. No matter how much he enjoyed the dancing, he was starting to get winded and his shirt was now drenched in sweat.

"Let's go drink some water," Adam suggested.

They returned to their spot and, to Adam's surprise, everything seemed to be exactly the way they left it. He'd completely forgotten about his worries while they danced.

Adam got out his water bottle from his backpack, when Kate's voice interrupted him.

"Aww, no!" Kate said, clearly disappointed when she peered into her bag.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked.

"I didn't close my bottle properly," Kate said, pulling out her wet, empty water bottle. "It's leaked all over."

She showed her bag that contained some now-soaked cookie crumbs and her keys bathing in water.

"I'm so sorry," Adam said. "We should hang it to dry somewhere—"

"It's not a big deal," Kate said with a smile. "It's just gonna smell like soggy cookies for a bit. That's what I get for being a klutz."

Adam's full water bottle felt heavy in his hands.

"Here, have some of mine," he said, extending the item.

"Are you sure?" Kate asked.

"Absolutely," Adam said. "We need to stay hydrated in this weather."

"You're the sweetest," Kate said and Adam felt his face heat up from the compliment.

Kate accepted the bottle, and only took one prim, small sip before holding it out for him.

"Come on, take a proper drink," Adam encouraged. "We’ll split it in half."

Kate gave him a sheepish smile, before tipping her head back and taking big gulps of the beverage, drinking nearly half of the bottle.

"Whew, that was refreshing," Kate said with a happy sigh. "Thanks, doll."

"My pleasure," Adam said.

He followed Kate's lead and emptied the bottle with similar gusto. The water felt heavenly in his dry throat and overheated body.

Afterwards, Adam insisted on setting up Kate's bag to dry in the sun.

"It should dry in no time," Adam said. "It's really hot today. I wish I was dressed for the weather."

"But you look so snazzy," Kate smiled. "Feels like I'm with royalty."

"I don't know about that. You look incredible today. I mean—err, you always do, but..." Adam floundered. "Your dress is beautiful."

"Thank you," Kate said with a shy smile, doing a little twirl. "It's good for dancing."

"I still can't believe you got me to dance," Adam said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Admit it. You had fun back there!” Kate was positively beaming at him.

"I did," Adam admitted. "And I never would have tried it on my own. Thank you."

"Thank you for doing it for me," Kate said. “I know this ain’t your thing, and I didn’t wanna push too hard. But I knew you’d be great, and…”

Kate trailed off, and Adam followed her gaze to an ice cream booth at the foot of the hill.

"Do you want to get ice cream?" Adam asked.

"I was just about to ask!" Kate grinned.

They walked to the kiosk, only standing in a short line as most people were still busy dancing. Adam took some time to browse the list of available flavors while they waited.

"Do you know what you're getting?" Adam asked.

"Not yet—there's so many to choose from!" Kate said, almost as in awe.

Adam hummed in agreement and focused back on the list. He was a little disappointed to not find matcha flavor on the menu, as it was his favorite from his time in Japan. Most of the options looked sickly sweet, and Adam skimmed over the cookie and candy flavors until eventually settling onto pistachio.

He glanced over at Kate who was still staring at the menu. If Adam had to guess, she was choosing between some of the more strange flavors—maybe even thinking about mixing them into a daring combination.

"Okay, I'm done!" Kate said once it was their turn to order. "You go first."

"One pistachio, please," Adam said.

"And for the lady?" the vendor asked.

"Chocolate," Kate said.

Adam turned to look at Kate in surprise.

"I ain't that adventurous with food," Kate explained with a sheepish grin.

After Kate's usual spontaneity and boldness, it was incredibly endearing to find out that she was a picky eater. Adam was suddenly eager for an opportunity to introduce her to Japanese and Jamaican flavors in the future.

"You can't go wrong with the classics," Adam assured.

"Here you go," the vendor said, handing over their orders. "That’s $3 a piece."

Kate started fishing out her wallet, but Adam beat her to it.

"It's on me," Adam said, already paying for their orders. “I owe you for the snacks.”

"Well, ain't you a gentleman," Kate said with a mischievous smirk.

Rather than stay closer to the stage, they returned to their spot to enjoy their ice creams.

"How is it?" Adam asked.

"Love it!" Kate beamed. "Do you wanna try?"

Butterflies danced in Adam's gut when Kate extended the treat to him. He nodded and carefully took a bite out of the ice cream. The chocolate flavor was not as rich as he'd normally like, but the texture was creamy and it didn’t taste too sweet.

"It's really good," Adam said. "Do you want to try mine?"

Kate regarded his green ice cream skeptically.

"Sure!" she eventually decided.

Kate hesitantly tasted the ice cream with the very tip of her tongue, before her face twisted into a grimace and Adam found himself laughing.

"Not for you, huh?" he teased.

"No, sorry, it's…" Kate said. "It tastes weird. Why is it salty?"

"Different strokes, I suppose," Adam smiled, digging back into his strange-tasting dessert.

They ate in companionable silence, watching the music performance and the people dancing to it.

"Thanks for coming with me today," Kate broke the silence.

"Thank you for inviting me," Adam said. "It's not my usual type of event, so I hope I didn't make too much of a fool of myself."

"What are you talking about? If anything, you're too cool for a place like this," Kate said.

"That's definitely not true," Adam protested. "I am not ‘cool’ in the slightest."

"Yeah you are," Kate insisted with a smile. "You're always so calm and polite and know exactly what to do. It feels like I'm just a dumb country girl in the presence of a prince or something."

Adam couldn't believe his ears. All this time, he’d thought Kate was too good for him, and she’d felt the exact same way about him?

"You are anything but dumb, Kate," Adam said. "To be honest, your charisma and talent sometimes overwhelms me. I often wonder what you see in me."

Kate laughed; not a mocking one, but a laugh that told Adam he was being absurd.

"Guess we're both kinda dumb, then," Kate smiled.

Adam returned the smile, feeling immense relief. He now knew that—for some crazy reason—Kate was just as fond of him as he was of her. Neither of them broke eye contact, and for a while they merely looked into each other’s eyes while their ice creams slowly melted.

"Can I kiss you?" Adam found himself asking.

It was barely above a whisper, finally having the courage to ask the words he hadn’t been able to during all these years.

"Thought you'd never ask," Kate said just as softly.

They both leaned into the kiss, and feelings of affection for this woman bloomed in Adam's chest when their lips met. Kate's lips were chilly from the ice cream but there was an underlying warmth in them that spread through Adam's body, like he was basking in the glow of the sun.

Their lips moved slowly against each other’s, hesitant at first and then finding a shared rhythm; just like when they danced together earlier.

When they pulled away, Adam was breathless, but it wasn’t not from a lack of air; it was from everything that was Kate.

"Hmm," Kate said conversationally.

"Hmm?” Adam repeated.

"Guess I don't mind pistachio flavor when it's mixed with Adam flavor," Kate smirked.

Adam threw his head back and laughed, and Kate did too.

They finished their half-melted ice creams while listening to the last songs of the concert. They talked about anything and everything, Adam no longer feeling like he had to hold back or keep up appearances. He placed his hand on Kate's and Kate insisted on trying some more ice cream from his lips.

It was the best date of Adam's life and he couldn't wait to see what their future might bring, knowing that Kate would be right by his side.

[iremelwrites]

sal fisher and jeff woods friendship headcanons

(these take place before they became killers. inspired by my most recent post)

- they met in the beginning of middle school

- after diane’s death, henry and sal moved around the country for a while before they settled in nockfell. one of the places where they lived was new orleans (yeah this doesn’t really fit into canon (or even my own fanon, for that matter) but bear with me for the sake of the au)

- they were starting sixth grade and entering middle school, which meant that it was a new environment for them both

- that was the summer when jeff discovered the emo subculture and decided to become an honorary member

- margaret was on his ass about it and constantly nagged him that he’d never find friends looking like that

- so jeff entered the middle school premises with the goal of befriending someone cool literally just to spite his mother

- people in his morning classes were okay, but still not what he was looking for

- when the time for lunch came, jeff looked for a place to sit in the crowded cafeteria and when his eyes landed on a blue haired kid in a mask and a metallica hoodie who was sitting alone, he was like

- bingo.

- he immediately sat down across from him, saying something along the lines of “awesome hoodie. i love metallica”

- sal looked at him with wide eyes for a second because he didn’t expect to be talked to during lunch, especially in a positive context. jeff was probably the first person sal had met who didn’t start their first conversation with a remark or question about the prosthetic

- they introduced themselves and talked about classic rock for a while. over the summer, jeff took the time to learn practically everything about the bands he listened to, so when sal could actually hold his ground on that topic jeff was ecstatic

- once they discovered that they both loved playing the guitar, they were like,, yeah dude we’re best friends now

- jeff didn’t ask anything about sal’s prosthetic until sal actually told him. having his own share of insecurities, jeff didn’t pry on whether it was a fashion statement or a necessary measure. besides, he didn’t care that much, since it looked cool anyway

- the two of them shared two afternoon classes and passed each other notes during them constantly bc middle school is boring you know

- they’d start hanging outside of school pretty quickly. most of the time they’d be at sal’s since margaret was always at home and insensitive as fuck, and jeff didn’t want sal to go through that

- henry is really happy that sal made a close friend. doesn’t even mind the loud ass music constantly blaring from sal’s room whenever he and jeff hang out

- they soon learn that they reeeeeally needed a friendship like one they formed. they balance each other out perfectly. sal guides jeff through his bitterness and angst with empathetic rationality. jeff encourages sal to stand up for himself and be more confident

- speaking of which, few people bothered sal in the new orleans school because jeff was always ready to throw hands. he has a lot of unprocessed anger from margaret’s narcissistic abuse and being bullied himself. he doesn’t always respond when the violence is directed at him, but when someone fucks with his best friend?? they better count their days

- one time some asshole tried removing sal’s prosthetic in the middle of a crowded hallway and jeff went literally batshit. he won, too, and even gloated about the detention he got afterwards

- sal doesn’t exactly enjoy the fact that jeff gets in fights because of him. he prefers to solve his people problems verbally, and if they get physical, oh well, he’s used to it. sal told this to jeff on multiple occasions. jeff doesn’t care.

- not only is fighting a way to let out his suppressed anger, but jeff also has a very strong moral compass, and, in his eyes, anyone who hurts someone as nice as sal definitely deserves to get their shit rocked. the fact that sal is used to being a target kind of makes jeff sick, he tries to not think about that

- jeff believes that deserves to be hated by the people around him (that’s an idea margaret put in his head isn’t it). he hates everyone anyway, and doesn’t try to hide his misanthropy. it’s not a big deal if people hate him back. sal though???? jeff thinks that sal is everything he himself isn’t. smart, empathetic, and incredibly strong. the fact that after everything he went through, sal still sees the best in everyone, even the people who bully him, is something jeff admires him for almost to a saint-like degree

- sal and liu get along really well too! liu also admires him for his strength and kindness. kind of adopts him as his second little brother

- since sal is from rural new jersey, moving to a city as big as new orleans was exciting. he wanted to explore the city, especially the historical center. this worked well because jeff takes pride in being a native to new orleans and knows his way around the city. the two of them would often just take walks around town and check out interesting places

- they share a love for the supernatural, and since it’s new orleans, they explore abandoned houses and visit voodoo sites. one time, when margaret and peter were out of town, jeff, sal, liu and some of liu’s friends got together at the woods residence and used a ouija board to try and summon an ancient deity. it didn’t go well, things got creepy pretty fast

- they’d have sleepovers often, and the topic of their conversations would turn existential and philosophical at night. they’d talk about their past, their dysfunctional families, about their nightmares of things beyond their understanding and their uncertainty of the future. this is when they really connected. their troubles were practically identical and the conversations they had about them were the most fulfilling discussions they’d ever had. they knew they could trust each other with the deepest parts of their introverted minds and not be judged or misunderstood. both of them would talk for hours until passing out with a thought like “i’m so glad you and i met”

- platonic soulmates

[jaybear1701]

March 29, 1970

Astronauts are a rare breed, and Pam is still amazed that she, of all people, has a front row seat to the American heroes. A rather unique one at that, where she bears witness to facets usually shrouded from the rest of the country, catching glimpses of what lies beneath the carefully curated air of confidence and capability.

For all the stoicism of the likes of an Ed Baldwin, or the laid-back charm of a Gordo Stevens, there’s a thread of vulnerability that ties them together, tense and taut. It emerges as the nights wear on, and the liquor flows freely. Pam has bent her ear long enough to recognize it for what it is–an unspoken acknowledgment that, despite hours upon hours of meticulous preparation that can stretch for months or even years, the precariousness of their jobs means it could all go belly up without a moment’s notice. 

She observes this uncertainty–this fear –even in the ASCANs, every time they walk into The Outpost with one less candidate in tow. Pam makes sure to give an extra generous pour of whiskey whenever she sees the exhaustion in Tracy Stevens’ eyes or the weariness in Danielle Poole’s polite smile. Tries to make the already taciturn Ellen Waverly laugh whenever she folds ever inward into quiet solitude.

Yes, Pam knows the weakness of these titans of space. They know she knows. And though she’s an ally, and not quite a friend, her discretion makes her an honorary member of their exclusive club. But sometimes that privilege can be a bit too much. Too overwhelming to play unofficial therapist as she fixes cocktails and cracks open beer bottles for hours on end.

And so, she welcomes the breaks, and doesn’t hesitate to accept when her boss tells her to clock out early on a slow Sunday afternoon. It’s Easter after all, and even the astronauts know better than to spend it away from their families.

Pam’s halfway out the door, already in her own little world, when she nearly bumps into someone while crossing the threshold.

“Pam, hi.” Ellen, startled, takes a step back as Pam exits and lets the door swing shut behind her.

“Hey,” Pam greets, stomach fluttering in pleasant surprise.

In jeans and a white blouse, Ellen’s the most casual Pam’s ever seen her. She takes in Pam’s denim jacket and the purse slung over her shoulder. “You, uh, heading out?”

“Yeah.” Pam nods. “Got a ‘Get Out of Jail Free’ card for the rest of the day.”

“Oh.” 

Pam’s not sure if the flash of disappointment in Ellen’s brown eyes is a figment of her imagination. “Didn’t expect to see you here on a holiday.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Ellen shrugs sheepishly. “Took a walk and just ended up here, I guess.” 

Pam gives an exaggerated grimace. “I don’t know whether that’s sweet or sad.”

Ellen laughs. “Definitely the latter, for sure.”

Of all the ASCANs, Ellen’s the one Pam knows the least about. Not that she hasn’t been curious to know more about the introverted trainee. She knows better than to push, preferring to let people open up at their own pace. But when an opening presents itself…

“Won’t your family wonder where you are?” Pam ventures.

“Ah, family’s back in Connecticut.” Ellen slips her hands in her back pockets. “So…” 

She’s alone , Pam realizes with a swell of sympathy, and before she can think better of it, she blurts out, “You should come with me.”

Ellen’s eyebrows shoot up. “W-where?”

“Anywhere’s gotta be better than here.” Pam doesn’t know what she’s doing or why she’s doing it. But it just feels right . “I mean, unless you want to spend the rest of your holiday in this shithole. No judgment.”

To Pam’s relief, the corners of Ellen’s lips curl up. “Lead the way.”

It’s a beautiful spring day in Houston, still pleasantly cool as the days creep toward the heat of summer. Pam brings Ellen to her favorite park, where budding trees line the banks of a small pond in bright pastels of pink and green and white. The sun glints off the rippling water and, judging by the way Ellen’s eyes light up, Pam knows she made the right decision.

“So, how’s training going?” Pam asks as they walk side-by-side along a paved path that winds around the pond, taking their time.

“It’s…” Ellen squints into the distance before glancing sidelong at Pam. “Don’t you get tired of us unloading on you?”

The question catches Pam off-guard, and she doesn’t answer right away. “No one’s, um, ever asked me that.”

“Probably because a lot of us are narcissistic assholes,” Ellen says the expletive so matter-of-factly that Pam can’t help but laugh. “It’s true! You know it.”

“Not all of you.” Pam nudges Ellen’s shoulder with her own. “Listening’s part of the job.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t get tired of it,” Ellen points out, prompting a noncommittal hum from Pam. “I could go on and on about how it’s tough and stressful, but I’m guessing you’ve heard it all before. I’d rather know more about you.”

“I’m really not that interesting,” Pam deflects even as warmth prickles up the back of her neck.

“Try me.” Ellen looks at her with such open, genuine interest that Pam caves. She’s not quite sure what it is about Ellen that makes her want to open up, but she does and she goes with the flow.

She leads them to a row of empty benches situated beneath pergolas covered in plants that twist up and around wooden posts to create a tangled rooftop of sweet-scented blooms. 

“Let’s see.” Pam takes a seat and angles herself toward Ellen, who mirrors her. Their knees are almost close enough to touch. “Grew up in a small town outside of Austin. Got my bachelor’s in English from UT, to my parents’ deep and never-ending chagrin.”

“Which part didn’t they like, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ellen tilts her head to the side, curiosity etched across her pretty features.

“Take your pick. It was bad enough their only daughter wanted to go to college–because a woman’s place is always in the home, of course,” Pam rolls her eyes, “But she also had to go and pick a quote-unquote ‘useless’ degree.”

“It’s not useless,” Ellen says sincerely, once again surprising Pam. 

“Thanks, but I know it’s not exactly practical. I mean, not like an engineering degree or anything.”

“Engineering’s overrated.” 

Pam wrinkles her nose, incredulous. “Says the woman who’ll be up in space mapping out the universe in a few years.” 

“I’m serious,” Ellen insists. “Outer space is exciting, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I think people get too caught up in the external, when there’s still so much left unexplored within humanity’s…” Her hands grasp at the air as if the right words hang invisibly around them. “I don’t know… innerspace? And the arts navigate it.”

Lips parted, Pam is left speechless and, if she’s honest, a bit flattered.

“God, that’s cheesy, isn’t it?” Ellen winces.

“No, that’s…” Without thinking, Pam reaches out and brushes her fingers against Ellen’s knee. “That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Gaze drifting down toward the brief touch, Ellen clears her throat and looks out toward the water, seemingly fascinated by a family of ducks floating along the surface. “You’re welcome.” A light shade of pink dusts her cheeks. “And so you ended up in Houston because?”

“Isn’t it every little girl’s dream to sling drinks in a NASA watering hole?”

Ellen chuckles. “Definitely was mine. Except I wanted to do it on the moon.”

Pam shakes her head, amused, very much enjoying this playful side of the normally staid astronaut candidate. Truthfully, Pam’s not even sure herself anymore why she’s remained in Houston. What had seemed like a good idea after college has slowly faded in the wake of her ongoing indecision about what exactly she wanted in life. 

“I figured Houston’s not too far from home,” she finally says. “But far enough away that I can figure out my shit without my parents’ constant disappointment.”

Ellen ducks her head, dark hair partly obscuring the wistful expression on her face. “I get that.”

Pam stifles a sudden and unexpected urge to smooth Ellen’s hair back behind her ear. She leans back and crosses her arms, to prevent herself from doing something monumentally stupid. “Are you saying your parents aren’t thrilled their daughter could be the first American woman in space?”

“Yes,” Ellen answers candidly. “And no. My parents are definitely proud. Supportive, even. But I also know they wouldn’t complain if I just settled down, got married, and helped with the family business.” Her voice is soft in its resignation, and Pam can’t help but empathize. 

“Expectations are a bitch, aren’t they?”

Ellen laughs, the sound musical, and Pam’s heart throbs without warning. “Yes,” she turns her head to capture Pam’s gaze. “Yes, they are.”

Ellen’s always been pretty–Pam’s not blind. But in the sunlight filtering through the canopy above them, she’s particularly radiant, and Pam quickly forces herself to tamp down on the warmth spreading through her chest. This isn’t the right time or place, and most definitely isn’t the right person, for those sort of feelings. 

“I, um, I’m glad I bumped into you today,” Pam says to fill the silence stretching slowly between them, self-consciously brushing her bangs to the side.

“Me too.” Ellen looks out over the water once again, wistful. “I had no idea this was even here.”  

“It’s not like you all have a lot of time to sightsee,” Pam points out. “But if you ever need a tour guide, you know where to find me.”

“Not sure about a tour guide,” Ellen glances at her, almost shyly, out of the corner of her eye, “but I wouldn’t say no to a friend.” 

Pam pretends to mull it over. “Yeah, I guess I could put up with you. Until you move to space, that is.”

“Oh, well, thanks for doing me that favor.”

“Don’t mention it, but don’t think this means you’ll get free drinks or anything.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ellen says with a gentle smile. 

Pam returns it, trying but failing to ignore just how light her heart feels. 

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Crush | Brad Davis x Filipina!Reader (Oneshot)

Prompt: Summer Vacation

Fandom: Spider-man (MCU)

Words: 2285

A/N: Look, I just like Remy Hii, alright? Anyways, I’ve had a draft of this for a while now, but I didn’t have the motivation until now to finish it. Reader is Ned’s younger sister, but was not affected by the snap/blip, so they’re in the same grade now.

-

Everything was different when the Blip happened, the event that caused half of the planet’s population, including your older brother, to disappear. Everyone that survived were forced to keep going without them, not knowing whether or not they’d ever come back. You entered Midtown without your brother to guide you in high school life, having birthdays without some of your friends and your brother to embarrass you in karaoke. Then suddenly, during a pep rally, everyone came back.

To accommodate those that had disappeared during the Blip, school had to start again, which meant that you were now in the same grade as your brother. He was surprised to see how much you’ve matured and became even more protective as before when he saw one or two classmates so much as look at you a certain way.

On the way to the airport, Ned was nagging at you to stick to his side and triple check that you had packed everything. You rolled your eyes and knew that while you had missed him during the five year Blip, you also knew that it was a matter of time before you would get tired of it again.

“Ay sus, kuya,” you groaned as Ned shifted his rant to your classmates that had survived the Blip with you and were suddenly an upperclassman like him.

As the two of you neared the group at the airport, you spotted Peter and gave him a pleading look to stop your brother. He looked a bit distracted but gave you a sympathetic smile. You slipped away from your brother as he turned to Peter, talking with the teachers before going through the usual international travelling process.

After going through the TSA, you met up with your classmates and discussed the locations that the class will be going to. You excitedly added that you managed to save enough money to get a film camera.

“What kind?” you heard a voice that made your heart skip.

You look up to see Brad Davis smiling at you. Your cheeks heat up. “What?”

“What kind of film camera?” Brad repeated.

“Oh, um, Olympus. OM-ten.”

He nodded in approval. “I love those. Very easy to use. Can I see?”

You blinked. You looked over at the teachers, then at the clock. There was still some time until the group had to head to the terminal. “Oh, yeah, sure. Lemme just…” You shifted your backpack around so you could pull your camera out.

His smile widened as he reached out for it. “In good condition, too,” he said, flipping it around to pop the lens cover off.

Your hand twitched as the cover hung from the string that was tied to the camera, swinging as Brad looked through the viewfinder and adjusting the focus. Just because you have had a crush on him since middle school, doesn’t mean he’s safe from your wrath if he breaks it. You didn’t even tell your parents that you bought it, as they would have told you to buy the cheaper digital cameras or borrow Ned’s camera.

Just as you reached out to grab the camera back, Brad turned around, winding the film and shot a picture of Michelle as she walked by. She paused and frowned.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” she asked.

“Well, yeah-”

“Ask for my permission next time. Don’t be one of those male photographers that take pictures of people through a hidden camera and make profit out of them. That’s all kinds of bad,” she said, grabbing the camera from him and handing it back to you. “What was that podcast you were talking about again?”

“Serial Killers by the Parcast Network?” you said.

She smiled. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna listen to that for the rest of the flight.”

“Sorry about that!” Brad called after her, before turning to you. “You listen to podcasts about serial killers?”

You shrugged, forcing yourself to walk away and find your brother. Of course, he liked Michelle. You almost forgot about that.

-

“Doesn’t it, you know, upset you seeing them like that?” Peter asked as you sat next to him in the plane.

He jerked his head towards the other aisle where Michelle and Brad were sitting together watching a movie. There was a twinge of jealousy and as soon as you found out they were sitting together, you hoped that she would just immerse herself in the Serial Killers podcast instead of interacting with him. You couldn’t be mad at her, though. Michelle was cool and she had always been friendly with you. You also knew that Peter had a crush on her, too.

“Why would it upset me?” you asked, feigning indifference.

Peter gave you a knowing look. “Because I see how you look at him-”

“Yeah, the same way you look at Michelle, right?” you countered.

“She’s got you there,” Ned piped up.

He groaned, hitting the back of his head on his seat. “I just… I had plans and now it might not even work out. When the hell did Brad Davis become like… like that.”

You shook your head. “You guys were gone for five years, Pete. A lot can change in five years.”

 “And you still liked him all this time. Why?”

You looked down at your lap where you had kept one of the snacks handed out by the flight attendant. You picked up and started to play with it. Why did you still like Brad Davis? You always thought he was cute, but there were a lot of classmates that you thought were cute. That doesn’t mean you had a crush on all of them. He was smart and funny and he had the same interests as you. That's still not enough of a reason. You had many friends that fit those characteristics.

Then you remembered how he would always be paired with you in labs, how happy he would be because, according to him, being paired together would guarantee an easy A. Whenever you were studying alone at the library, he would pass by and drop a spam musubi that he always bought off of one of your classmates next to your textbook. Sometimes, he would join you at the table and study in silence together. He knew you were an introvert and he always made sure that you felt included while also making sure you were comfortable. It may sound so simple, but in a society where people tailor to extroverts and push introverts to become extroverts, it meant a lot to you.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said with a shrug, “I’m sure I’ll get over it during the trip. Not like we’ll be hanging around together anyways.”

Ned snorted. You smacked his arm hard, making him whine. Peter sighed, glancing back at Brad and Michelle, an idea forming in his mind.

“Ned, make it so I have to switch seats with Brad,” Peter said to your brother.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What about our plan? American bachelors in Europe.” You raised an eyebrow at this and snorted. Ned smacked your arm.

“That's your plan! That's a solo plan. Come on, this is my plan.”

Peter pleaded desperately to him. Ned rolled his eyes and sighed, coming up with a story that Peter was having a perfume allergy so he could move seats. You looked between them, his plan clicking in your mind. You narrowed your eyes at Peter.

“It’s not going to work,” you said.

“It will!” Peter said, looking back at Ned who gave him a hopeless look. Peter’s face fell.

-

After the long flight and the journey to the cheap dingy hotel, you joined your brother and Peter in their room. You sat cross legged on Ned’s bed while eating your airplane snacks, eyes following Peter as he paced back and forth.

“Dude, just talk to her,” Ned said.

“Tell that to (Y/n) with Brad!” Peter said, waving a hand at you.

“Whoa, stop bringing me into this,” you said, throwing a cashew at him, hitting him on his forehead. You winced. “Tita May told me your Peter tingle wasn’t working.”

“Stop calling it Peter tingle, it’s not… anyways, I’ve got a plan,” he said, standing in front of you and Ned. “I like Michelle. You like Brad. Brad likes Michelle, and Michelle… might like Brad. What I propose is to work in separating them.”

You raised your hand. “Right, but that would require me taking the initiative and confronting him,” you said, “This is me we’re talking about.”

Ned also raised his hand. “That would also require me to approve of Brad Davis being in proximity of (Y/n).”

“You’re spending the day with Betty, so why would it matter to you?”

“Well, I’m a man now, ading, and I can’t always be there to protect you.”

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculousness. “I was fine for five years without you, remember?”

Ned sighed, shaking his head at you. He looked at Peter. “They grow up so fast.”

Peter growled in frustration. “Enough! We’re leaving for Saint Marco Polo’s Square soon. Just… (Y/n), please.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll see what I can do. Remember, this is me we’re talking about. Don’t expect much.”

-

You went around Saint Marco Polo’s Square with Michelle while Peter had gone to buy the Black Dahlia necklace for her. Brad had been trailing behind the two of you while you snapped pictures of Michelle every time she posed. She went to get food for the pigeons so she could take a picture with them. You checked the exposure on your camera finding the right focus to use. When you looked up, Brad was staring at you.

“What?” you asked, trying to look busy with your camera to avoid looking at him.

“I can take pictures of you, if you want,” he offered.

You hurriedly shook your head. “No. No, no. I’m… I prefer to be behind the camera. I’m not the type to be in front of it. I’m not suited for it.”

He frowned, opening his mouth to question your choice of words. Michelle bounded over with the bird feed and waited until they perched on her outstretched arms. You turned away from Brad to take her picture, shooting it as soon as she smiled widely.

“Okay, that’s enough picture taking for me today. Now, boh!” Michelle said, giving you a grateful pat on the head before heading off on her own.

Which meant that you were now alone with Brad. Until, of course, he decides to follow her. You cleared your throat, looking around the wide square for something to do. You couldn’t help but notice that Brad hadn’t left his spot since Michelle left. Slowly, you turned your head towards him just as he raised his own camera up.

“Can I take a picture of you, at least? Just one?” Brad asked, giving you a small smile.

Damn it. Your heart skipped a beat at how soft he looked. You lowered your camera, drawing out your answer as you looked at what the other students were doing. Some were vlogging, or taking pictures, or, like your brother, were getting their face drawn into a caricature or riding in a boat. You finally had alone time with him without any effort on your part and you honestly never thought you’d make it this far in the plan.

“What… what do I have to do?” you asked nervously, your cheeks heating up.

“You can just be casual, nothing too fancy. We can go get some ice cream and walk around, if that makes you comfortable.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you walked towards the shops, looking for an ice cream parlor, talking about cameras and the history of Venice. You didn’t know why you were always nervous at every beginning of your conversation with him, but you knew that over time, you were a lot more relaxed.

You were scooping the sides of your ice cream so it wouldn’t drip out of the cup when you heard a shutter. Your eyes widened as you looked over at Brad who was smiling with a camera in hand.

“Don’t worry, you look great,” he said, showing you your picture.

Your head was tilted, the corner of your lips turned up as you scooped your ice cream. You looked happy and content. It was honestly one of the few pictures of yourself that you were fine with.

“It’s… not bad,” you relented.

“You can take all the pictures you want of me, if you want,” he said, striking a heroic pose next to one of the bridges.

You laughed, quickly adjusting the exposure and focus of your camera with one hand before winding the film. He flashed a smile as you looked through the viewfinder. You were about to take the picture, when you saw the water churning behind him. You quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the canal as the water came crashing down.

Your brother, Betty, and Michelle, ran over. “Run!” Ned shouted, grabbing you and pushing you in front of him to start moving. Once you joined the other students and the teachers at a safe distance from the canal, all of you took a moment to catch your breath.

“Well, that was an exciting first date,” Brad joked.

You huffed out a laugh, not missing the dangerous look that Ned shot at him. At the sound of a loud crashing, you all looked up to see the water creature smashing a bell tower, a figure swinging around to save it while a costumed man shot green energy beams at the creature.

You sighed. So much for a relaxing vacation.

[flora3fauna]

Mark:

RATED R

Mark is my boyfriend Ishma’s  best friend and his longest friend too. They met in elementary school when Mark’s mom died of a heart attack in second grade. Ishma's had been there for him, supporting him and guiding him through his lost, and ever since they have form a brotherhood, watching each others back and never betraying each other. Mark, Ishma's and there group of friends go by life and there friendship by the saying of NFL which stands for “never leave family”. If you haven't gotten the idea yet, these groups of boys move like they are in a fraternity or something, I mean the bond that they have is a few of the true genuine friendship bonds I’ve seen from Generation Z. Men are like dogs truly, not necessarily because of their savage and sexist behavior sometimes , but for the simple allegiance they hold with each other, after all they call each other “brothers”. Although it may have seen that there couldn't possibly be something that could break the friendship Ishma and Mark had been flourishing for more than a decade, the simple seduction and desires of a single woman  devastated their entire bond. 

Me and Ishma hadn't been together for  the majority of the summer because he was in California quarantining with his family and I has here in the city. We had a streak of breaking up for weeks and weeks and getting back together for a shorter amount of time. This was very exhausting to me and it felt like I was marching at the drum of Ishma’s music. Ishma was very cruel to me during quarantine, he cheated on me, he lied to me, he would ghost me, I mean really what didn't Ishma do to me. All because of an incident in school. me and Mark have never had much communication other than topics about Ishma and maybe school if we were partners in a project or something. Mark has always been so fascinating to me maybe because of how much I related to him, we had the same birth month, the same astrology sign, we were both pretty funny people and we were both connected to Ishma. But there was something more to Mark, things I didn't know but was dying to like for example his favorite ice cream flavor You can learn so much from a person but just knowing their favorite Ice cream flavor, for example people who like fruity flavors such as strawberry or coconut tend to live through life observing and overanalyzing compare to those who simply prefer vanilla or chocolate like Ishma. Okay maybe the ice cream theory is a stretch, but I believed this was the type of guy mark was. Sometimes when me and Ishma would talk on the phone he would bring up memories or adventures he and Mark lived together and this moments were the single moments were I had the opportunity to know Mark. From Ishma’s stories, Mark was the fucking boss, girls loved and chased him , guys always wanted to be cool with him, and most importantly Mark was a down ass dude not in the sense of being reckless and doing stupid shit, more in the sense that if you need him to do something or he is wants to do something and he is able to, he will do it period. 

Mark was also the only friend from the group that had a car or could drive so he was something like the emergency chauffer. Also the car wasn't really his its his dad’s car which is still a plus compared to most guys in the city. He had a younger sister named Alissa who was just 1 year younger than us. Alissa was an introvert and didn't really like to be around a lot of people. She was one of those people that only spoke to you if they trusted you. Even though she was very reserved with me at first, both of us shared similar friends so we bonded over that. Soon me and her got cool enough to something like friends, and through her I got some more bits and pieces of who Mark was. I called this extra details “The Mark Treats” because Alissa’s sibling-version of Mark was very different from Ishma’s friend-version of Mark. Ishma would gloat and praise about him in such ways that even I could tell Mark wasn't really like that, but Alissa would tell it how it is straight up.

“bro, that man don’t even know how to put the seat up when his using the bathroom” she whispered to me 

We both laughed and that's when I suddenly realize that I was getting information about who someone is from two people that know two separate versions of the same person, but if I wanted to see mark for who he really was, I needed to be alone with him , get him comfortable and vulnerable enough where he can open up to me too. I don't know why I am so intrigued by Mark, and I don't understand this emotions I feel towards him but all I am sure about is that I wanted to know more , the more I knew the closer I got . But the question was how was I going to get more information about someone who is so close to someone I should be more interested in.

~Angel~

[ellaintrigue]

I appear toxic for craving simple boundaries...

Summer of 2018 I got sick of being stuck at home while fighting heart trouble so I made the decision to go to the bay on a weekend, which I never do. After working in Ocean City for years I totally hate crowds, on top of already being an introvert. With no one to watch my bag, I kept an eye on it while it sat on the dock as I floated around. I'm sure it would float at first if it fell into the water but God forbid a kid or dog try to grab it! I have had that happen before and honestly prefer to go swimming with a friend.

But, it wasn't too bad there that day, there were about 4 families crabbing off the dock with 5 kids in the water away from me. There were little boys and a little girl about 8 years old. Then she started screaming her head off. She had tried the slide for the first time but stopped herself at the base with only her legs dangling in the bay. She was screaming in terror and her leg was bleeding from hitting barnacles at the pier supporting the ancient slide.

Well, that was no good. Her parents were drinking beer and yelling for her to stop causing a ruckus so I made eye contact with her mother and smiled, gaining an unspoken trust to approach the girl. "What's wrong, baby?" I asked. The tearful child said she had never been in the deep part of the bay before so she was scared. I stood up and told her it wasn't that deep, look at me! She stopped crying but remained stuck on the slide. So I asked her, "would you like me to carry you back to the dock so you won't be scared?" She nodded and I guided her to the steps and helped her up, warning her to watch her footing on the algae.

Ella the child hater! That is what people call me because I am pro-choice and never wanted kids. But it's just a negative stigma of women. I don't hate anyone and have nothing to prove. It just took me two years to write this small story, lol. We are just humans trying to get by, I don't need to use anyone.

Sites like FaceBook use other pages you browse to get data for their ads, and while you can shut it off, this particular bias cannot be ignored.

I see vodka ads, okay, I drink. Home Depot ads: huh?? Candles, cool. Pretty retro dresses, omg I want that one! But the most prominent ones? Diapers, breast pumps, child care tips, and information on childbirth. None of my searches, posts, or browsing have anything to do with babies or children. When I click "why this ad?" it says it's for people in my age range/demographic.

Somehow I doubt males get diapers ads on FB but correct me if I'm wrong. If I'm wrong it would be a comfort because to me, because I find it to be just more stereotyping and oppression of females. In my 11 years in retail I had so many female coworkers randomly saying that I'd be a good mom, when am I going to have kids, that I looked a little bigger, am I pregnant? One day I was fighting a small kidney stone and ran to the restroom to get sick. "YOU'RE PREGNAAAAAAAAAAAAANT" my gun-collecting, cat-shooting, pro-life boss roared. The rest of the time she would just needle me about my then-boyfriend, "when are you and him gonna have kids? You know you want them!"

Like I mentioned in the blog before this one, it's a society thing, still laying down age-old stigmas against career women and those without kids. Perhaps one day the world will realize that women are more than just baby factories. People tell me, "IF EVERYONE THOUGHT LIKE YOU THEN HUMANITY WOULD DIE OFF, YOU ARE SELFISH." But people would never all think the same, that's impossible. Isn't variety the point of life?

Fuck conformity, just be you. Do no harm but take no shit. 💯