#(for all the folks who don't want to play with strangers but don't have their own group)

[damsels-n-dice]

interested in playtesting?

if you're a fan of TTRPGs, queer stories, emotion-based magic systems, body horror, helping indie creators, or free stuff, i have the opportunity for you! i'm looking to gauge interest for playtesting my game, 'til it kills us, and tumblr seemed like the best place to go

if you are interested in playing the game, in an official setting or with your own group, consider signing up! this is just interest, so you're not making a commitment, and you'll get a free copy of the game

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[heartfullofleeches]

[+18]

V and fuckboy playboy/wingman male Darling-

Hear me out-

Darling is the son of some other loaded family that has close ties with V's. The two cross paths at a gathering and their parents urge them to make friends. Darling plays video games. V plays video games. They exchange numbers with some persuasion from their folks and set up a time to play something together although begrudgingly on V's end. V ends up having a better time than he expected, but right before he really starts to enjoy his time with Darling - he tells V he has to head out.

"Nice meeting you, dude. We gotta do this again. I got a girl coming over and I gotta bounce."

And just like that V's hopes are crushed. He's still learning about his attraction towards guys, but - Darling was sorta cute....

"oh....so you have a girlfriend."

Darling laughs.

"Nah, man. Haven't found the right girl...or guy to tie me down yet, plus I'm just enjoying the single life for now.... I can send pics after we're done if you want. She's totally chill and likes when I show her off."

Pictures?.... V agrees - thinking not much of it. He goes back to playing and eventually it slips from his mind. Hours later he receives photos of what looks to be a topless girl in a dimly lit room. She smiles big at the camera - eyes and upper face blocked from sight by the shaft of the bastard with her cheek pressed to his inner thigh. He still had on the same pair of sweats V had seen him in earlier that day. He only met this guy not even twenty-four hours ago and now he's seen his dick. Even worse - there's a pretty girl with her lipstick and spit all over it in the same picture. V's pissed - yet the image magically appears in one of his porn holders later on."

"what the hell...."

"My bad! I thought you might like it. You don't seem like a guy who gets a lot of action... If you ever want to meet someone, just give me a call. I know a lot of people who'd be interested in a rich brat like you."

This guy.... he acts like he's any different. V thinks Darling is a freak to put things lightly, but its not like he has other people to hang out with. As the two hang out V sees that Darling isn't as bad as he first seemed. He's still a horny, inconsiderate prick most days - but he's still the best thing V has to a friend and cares for V in his own way..... Still sends V dick pics he sweats were for someone els.

Darling is genuinely surprised that V has never been with someone. Sure, he doesn't seem like he gets that much attention, but he was sure V had at least kissed someone once. The topic comes up when Darling tries for the hundredth time to hook with up with one of his flings. He's always sending V evidence of the nights he spent with strangers. Oddly enough - V only ever complains about the videos and photos when they don't have darling in them as well.

"Damn.... I know you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but you're cute I thought somebody would've looked past that.....

V hates with Darling says shit like that. He's not used to people flirting with him and... and it gives him false hope. "Shut up....

"So, think she's cute? I can give her your number~"

"I don't want it."

This sucks.... By now, V's fully aware of his crush on Darling - and he fucking hates the bastard for what he's doing to him. If Darling is so concerned about him seeing people why doesn't he just take V out instead. He jerks off to everything Darling sends him wondering when he'll get his turn. V has some solace in the fact Darling rare sees any of his partners twice. V has been with him and always will be with him longer than any of them have. He just has to be patient.....and ruin any chances Darling has of being with anyone else.

V nearly jumps out of his skin reading one of Darling's numerous drunken texts.

"Hey, man. Totally speaking out my ass here, but would you ever be down to have a threesome sometime ;)"

[mywifealhaitham]

pre release boothill relationship headcanons!!!

a/n: I'm fiending off crumbs... I've wanted to read some x reader of him but theres none so I gotta write it myself. I hope the other 4 boothill fans enjoy

warnings: gn!reader, like 2 gendered pet names (pretty girl/boy), most of this is written with bias because we don't have alot to go off, obviously written prerelease, when we actually get content of him I'll definitely be rewriting

LEAKS AHEAD!!!

bc: Valentine_DD_ on twt

- Boothill is described as a righteous person if his bottom line doesn't get crossed, so he definitely treats you good. probably more on the protective side when it comes to you, he's probably not afraid to use his gun if someone is threatening you.

- and believe me he's intimidating. from his overall tough and "unruly" cowboy look to his mechanical body it leaves enemies just a little challenged. he lowers his voice too and probably has a more fierce look in his eyes too. after any threats have been delt with he probably turns to you and turns into the sweetest thing ever, a wide grin across his face and his hands on your cheeks peppering you with small kisses.

- Its said he's a bit sophisticated due to his experiences so I'd like to imagine sometimes he charms you with facts and details about other planets or just genuinely sharing some tips and tricks he's picked up from other cultures. he's also a person who can get along with others pretty well but he can easily give strangers an impression he's selfish and is a bad person.

- again this kinda feeds into he's basically you'd guard dog... but I mean who wouldn't want to be saved by a handsome and sweet cowboy. despite his unpredictable personality and looks he's a huge gentleman for sure. always opens doors and pulls out chairs for you, makes sure your behind him and okay if any danger approaches and practically listens to your every command (lowkey giving off my girl and I don't argue she tells me to shut up and I do)

- one part I'm so excited to see is what they mean by he's illiterate and using metaphors. it's probably just him using slang but it's still kinda cute. I feel like his cheesy and strange metaphors turn into pick up lines when talking to you. perhaps he'll pull a "did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" or something cheesier. Definitely a huge nickname guy, almost never uses your real name. I'm guessing he'd use stuff like doll, sugar, baby, pretty girl/boy and more teasing names. heavy on doll and sugar and just imagine him saying it in a deep southern accent... 😍 kicking my feet. also I imagine he loves making you giggle by not cursing (because he literally cant) and normally he'd get pissed if someone laughed at him like that if it's you he doesn't mind at all.

- that's pretty much it for like analyzing the leaks I saw but now the stuff up ahead is just bias yapping because I always project

- HE DEFINITELY IS A HAND KISSER. greets you by getting on one knee, holding his hat to his chest and kissing your hand. makes eye contact with you too and does that toothy smirk of his IM SWOONINGGG

- maybe he's a dancer! pulls you into his arms and places his hat on your head when a good song plays in taverns. even if your clueless on any type of dances then he'll pull you along to the beat whispering Instructions in your ear.

- gets so lovesick when drunk it drives everyone mad. any folks he's sitting with at a bar gets a whole speech on his wonderful beautiful darling who he owes his live and would happily die by their hand. and may God save you when you come pick him up because he'll be all over you. Immediately he wraps a arm around your waist as he slurrs his hello as he proceeds to tell you he loves you like 40 times. besides the mass amounts of kisses you'll receive once you both reach a private spot he let's some feelings that he might be too shy to share normally, holding your face as he calls you his pretty girl/boy and how he's so lucky to have you.

- honestly not the best for cuddling however unfortunately he needs to cuddle you to sleep so goodluck! his metal body isn't completely uncomfortable it's just cold alot. he tries to get around this by literally preheating himself with blankets before you go to bed.

very bad boothill brainrot atm... only a few more weeks until we get official content 😭 everyone hold hands we got this

here's the actual leaks if anyone is curious ^_^

[drtanner]

You know, I think I'm starting to understand why the sharing culture on this site is such dogshit now.

As I mentioned earlier in the week, I spent several solid hours going through my art and writing tags as far back as 2012 and manually deleting everything I found, including all of my own reblogs, because I don't expect my opt out from having my blogs' data scraped to be honoured, and seeing the difference in the way people interacted with my work back then and the way they interact with it now (or the way they don't interact with it at all, more specifically) was deeply and tragically enlightening.

tl;dr, despite having had a fraction of the followers back then that I have now, as well as being an objectively better artist and writer than I used to be 10+ years ago, my work travelled further and people engaged with it more, and they also sent me asks with drabble prompts and questions about my OCs all the time, whereas none of that happens at all anymore. This place was a lot more communal back in that pre-2016 era and generally a lot more rewarding and fun.

There's been plenty of posts going around over the last few years begging people to reblog because that's how this site works, but every one of those posts always winds up lousy with people saying they just click "Like" on things because they like them but not enough to put them on their own blog, or because they don't want to clutter their blog, or because tagging things is too much effort or whatever, and I'm noticing a pattern. There's something that all of these common responses have in common:

All of these people are wholly concerned with themselves and the way their blog looks, or what their blog is supposed to be for, or some other similarly entirely self-centred point of focus.

Listen. Other people have already tried to explain to you that that's not what this place is about or what this place is for or that you can make as many sideblogs as you want if you're trying to curate something specific, and they've had little success in emparting understanding to you, so I'm going to try a different approach.

Here are ten (10) benefits of reblogging that will make this site more fun and engaging for you, personally! ( b ._.)b

You get to keep the thing for yourself, but you also get to pass it along for other people to play with, too! Best of all worlds. How often do you get to keep a thing and share it?

Look in your Activity after you reblog something you enjoy to find other people who like the same things that you do! This is a terrific way to find new people to follow.

Sometimes you'll make a comment when you reblog something and later find that an awful lot of strangers are reblogging it from you directly for some reason. This is usually because someone else later down the line made a much stupider and worse comment and those strangers are now all clicking on your reblog so that they can reblog the post without that other person's stupider and worse comment on it. I like it a lot when this happens. You can get a lot of new followers this way, too!

Even if you don't have the time or spoons to play with jpegs like dolls yourself, your reblog can put the post in front of those folks who do. Playing with jpegs like dolls is half of what makes this site function; give it a bit of time, and the jpegs will cross your dash again with new additions. As it is with anything you love, set it free, and the love will come back to you one hundredfold. 💜

Look in your Activity after reblogging some art or writing to see people going nuts in the tags. You can also go nuts in the tags if you want; everyone loves seeing this when it happens, especially the artist or writer themselves.

Commenting with your reblog is like raising your hand to share your opinion with the whole room, whereas reblogging with your comment in the tags is more like whispering to the person next to you and keeping it between yourselves. Contrary to what you might have been told by others, both are perfectly fine and good and they each have their place. You can do both on the same reblog, even! Take part in the conversation!

If you're too shy to talk, reblogging without commentary is a lot like parallel play. You're all enjoying the same thing quietly together!

When you reblog things a lot, you'll start to see the same people popping up in your Activity feed all the time. These people are your friends whether you actually talk to them or not.

Stuck for something to say? Point out something you liked about the post! It can be something small! Acknowledging things that make you happy out loud is good for your mental health and also your soul.

Reblogging also invites other people who are doing all of these things to find and follow you!

There's so much to do on here beyond checking your dash and occasionally looking at the For You tab. You can discover all kinds of people and things by making a bit of an effort and having a poke around in your Activity feed and on the blogs of people who interact with the posts you're seeing and passing along! I promise you don't need an algorithm to do this for you; the action of exploring the landscape around you on this website is fun in its own right!

Get out there and see who your neighbours are. 💜

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Kansas City - Interview Broadcast Day [9/13]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.6k Summary: The campaign rolls through Kansas City to make a pitstop to watch with the rest of the country as your interview with Oprah airs on Sunday night primetime television.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened. And in case you missed it, this is who I mentioned in a post that I cast to play the role of Jake, our fearless campaign manager.

Previous Chapter | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The savory aroma of slow-cooked meat and smoky spices envelops you as you step out of the campaign SUV and onto the sun-baked sidewalk in front of Arthur Bryant's Barbeque. The iconic Kansas City establishment stands before you, its red brick facade and neon sign a beacon for barbecue lovers from across the nation.

Steve emerges from the vehicle behind you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the restaurant. "I've been looking forward to this all day," he admits, a boyish grin spreading across his face.

You can't help but smile back, feeling a flutter of excitement in your own stomach. You’re beginning to believe butterflies will never stop hitting you when he smiles at you like that.

After days of campaign events and press conferences, this small detour feels like a breath of fresh air. There will still be conversations, meeting strangers, taking questions, hearing from the people, and press capturing everything second of it, but part of these kinds of stops at least feel slightly more organic. You feel like the conversations, at least, are more real, and you get to know people for who they really are in the places they actually go on a regular kind of day. The fact that it involves world-famous barbecue is just a bonus.

It’s also one of the rare days you both get to be dressed down and casual. Steve even wears a dark blue baseball cap to help lower his profile of being recognized even more.

As you approach the entrance, you and Steve reach for each others hands, fingers locking, natural as anything now.

The moment you step inside Arthur Bryant's, you're hit with a wave of nostalgia. The no-frills interior, with its simple tables and chairs, feels like stepping back in time. The walls are adorned with photos of famous patrons and news clippings, a testament to the restaurant's rich history.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a warm smile approaches. "Captain Rogers, Mrs. Rogers, welcome to Arthur Bryant's," he says, extending his hand. "I'm Jerry, the manager. We're honored to have you here."

Steve shakes Jerry's hand firmly. "The honor is ours, Jerry. We've heard amazing things about your barbecue."

"Well, we hope to live up to the hype," Jerry chuckles. "Why don't I give you a quick tour before we get you set?"

As Jerry leads you through the restaurant, pointing out photos of past presidents and celebrities who have dined there, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you. There are whispers and a few excited waves, but for the most part, people seem content to let you enjoy your visit.

Jerry brings you to the counter where the magic happens. The smell of smoked meat is even stronger here, making your mouth water and your stomach growl audibly. Steve glances at you with an amused smile.

"Now, what can I get for you folks?" Jerry asks.

Steve's eyes light up as he scans the menu board. "I think I'll have the burnt ends sandwich and some fries," he says.

“And you, Mrs. Rogers?”

“I want a brisket sandwich,” you reply.

“Only the half?” Jerry asks.

“With sides of the cheesy corn, baked beans, onion rings, and cole slaw,” you add.

“Atta girl!” the man grins. “This one knows how to order!” he calls out to the others around. “She’s got my vote!”

You laugh at Jerry's enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through you at the easy camaraderie. Steve grins and shakes his head. "I think I've been outdone," he says good-naturedly.

Jerry chuckles as he starts preparing your order. "Well, Captain, maybe I’ll swing my vote to you by the time we hit November. Now, what can I get you to drink?"

"Sweet tea for me," you say.

"Make that two," Steve adds with a smile.

As Jerry busies himself with your order, you and Steve take a moment to look around the restaurant. The dinner crowd is starting to filter in, and you can see a mix of curiosity and excitement on the faces of those who recognize you.

A young woman approaches hesitantly, her phone clutched in her hand. "Excuse me," she says, her voice slightly trembling. "I'm sorry to bother you, but would it be okay if I took a picture with you both?"

Steve responds with a warm smile. "Of course, we'd be happy to."

The young woman's face lights up. "Thank you so much! I'm Emily, by the way.” She hands her phone to a nearby friend.

You and Steve position yourselves on either side of Emily, smiling warmly as her friend snaps a few photos. As Emily checks the pictures, her excitement is palpable.

"Thank you again," she says, her eyes shining. "I've been following your campaign. It's really inspiring to see people I feel like I relate to running instead of just old white men."

“Well, technically Steve’s a very old white man,” you tease.

Steve gives you a mock glare, and Emily laughs.

“No, I guess what I mean is people who seem like people and not just politicians,” she clarifies. “I felt like that about Charlie Young before, too, and so I’m glad he’s your running mate.”

Steve's expression softens. "That means a lot, Emily. What issues are most important to you in your day to day life?"

Emily takes a deep breath, considering her answer. "I'm about to age out of my parents' insurance, and I'm worried about how I'll afford coverage on my own."

You nod sympathetically. "We'd love to hear more about your perspective if you’re willing to share."

Emily glances at her friend, who nods encouragingly. "Well," she begins, "I'm 25 and I work as a teacher's assistant. The pay isn't great, and the school district doesn't offer health insurance for part-time employees. I've been looking into private plans, but they're so expensive. I have a pre-existing condition, and I'm worried about how I'll manage my healthcare costs once I'm off my parents' plan."

Steve listens intently, his brow furrowed in concern. "We believe that access to quality, affordable healthcare is a right, not a privilege. No one should have to choose between their health and their financial stability."

You nod in agreement. "We've been hearing similar stories across the country. It's clear that our current healthcare system isn't working for many Americans, especially young people just starting their careers."

Emily smiles gratefully. "I’m not asking for hand outs - I’m working, but it needs to not feel like it’s impossible to afford to live.”

Steve nods, his expression serious. "Absolutely, Emily. You shouldn't have to struggle to afford basic necessities like healthcare while working hard and contributing to society. I want us to implement solutions that work for all Americans, not just those at the top. I think we start by simplifying the process and expand subsidies under the Affordable Care Act to make coverage more affordable for young adults and low-income workers, but next steps will involve looking to other countries who have better healthcare systems and adopting what we see is working. Detractors say that some of those other systems don’t work for everyone or they’re not perfect, but what we’ve got here isn’t much to write home about as it stands."

"And it's voices like yours that help shape our policies and remind us why this work is so important," you add.

Emily beams, clearly touched by your words. "Thank you for listening. It means a lot when I know it must be so busy for you both. Isn’t your Oprah interview airing tonight?” she asks.

“Yes, we’re just here to grab a bite and to pick up some food to take back to the campaign staff while we watch later.”

“Well, thanks again, and good luck tonight,” she says.

As Emily rejoins her friend, Jerry calls out that your order is ready. You and Steve thank him as he hands over your loaded trays.

"Enjoy your meal, folks," Jerry says with a wink. “We’ll work with your guys to load up your catering to-go boxes, y’all just enjoy.”

You and Steve thank him and then scan the bustling restaurant, looking for an open table. The dinner rush is in full swing, and most tables are already occupied. Your eyes land on a table in the corner where four men, all appearing to be in their seventies, are engaged in animated conversation over their half-eaten meals.

Steve catches your eye and nods towards the table. You both make your way over, trays in hand.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Steve says, his voice warm and friendly. "Would you mind if we joined you? Seems like all the other tables are taken."

The men look up, their eyes widening in recognition. There's a moment of stunned silence before one of them, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes, breaks into a wide grin.

"Well, I'll be damned," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of a Southern drawl. "Sure we’ve got a space for Captain America and his peach of a wife!”

As you and Steve take your seats at the table, you can feel the energy shift. The men are clearly excited, but there's also a hint of nervousness in the air.

"I'm Bill," says the man with the Southern drawl, extending his hand to Steve. "These are my buddies Tom, Frank, and Joe. We've been coming here every Sunday for the past 20 years."

Steve shakes each of their hands in turn, his smile warm and genuine. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Steve, and this is my wife," he says, introducing you by name.

You smile and greet each of the men, feeling a sense of ease settle over the table.

"So, what brings you folks to our neck of the woods?" Frank asks, leaning forward with interest. His weathered hands cradle a half-empty glass of iced tea.

"We're just looking for the best barbecue in the country," you explain, unwrapping your brisket sandwich.

The four men all laugh heartily, and you grin before you take your first bite. Your eyes widen in appreciation. “Oh, wow. This is incredible.” The meat is tender and flavorful, practically melting in your mouth.

"Best in Kansas City," Tom nods proudly. "Been coming here since I was knee-high to a grasshopper."

As you enjoy your brisket sandwich, Steve takes a bite of his burnt ends, his eyes closing it seems to fully savor that first mouthful. "This really is something special," he agrees, reaching for a napkin.

"You've got to try this," he says, holding his sandwich across to you. You smile and lean forward for a bite, letting him feed you, hoping that not all eyes are on you.

“Mmm, that’s good, too,” you hum. “But if you offered so you could try a bite of mine in return, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

This garners another round of laughter from the men along with some hoots and some ribbing, and Steve just smirks and shakes his head at you.

“I’ll share my sides, though,” you say with a teasing smile, pushing your tray closer to the middle.

Joe, who's been quietly observing until now, clears his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, Captain, what made you decide to run for office? I mean, you've already done so much for this country."

Steve sets down his sandwich, his expression thoughtful. "Well, Joe, I've always believed in serving my country, in whatever way I can. After everything that's happened in recent years, I felt like I could do more good by working within the system, trying to bring people together and address the issues that matter most to everyday Americans."

Bill nods, a wistful look in his eyes. "It's refreshing to hear, I'll tell you that. Feels like politicians these days are more concerned with having an office than serving the people and a lot of us old-timers are worried about the direction the country's headed."

Steve’s brow furrows. "I understand those concerns," he says thoughtfully. "The world is changing rapidly, and it can be unsettling. But I believe in the resilience and spirit of the American people. We've faced challenges before, and we've always come through stronger."

Bill nods slowly, a pensive look on his face. "That's true enough - and when you say it, we can believe it because we know you’ve got old experience in those bones, too. But it feels different now, doesn't it? Like we're more divided than ever."

Steve nods solemnly, wiping his hands on a napkin. "You're right, Bill. The divisions in our country are deep, and they're not going to be healed overnight. But I believe we have more in common than what separates us. We've been crisscrossing the country, meeting people and hearing their stories. We all want safe communities, good jobs, affordable healthcare, and a bright future for our children and grandchildren."

Frank leans forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That's all well and good, Captain, but how do you plan to actually bring people together? Seems like every politician says that, but nothing ever changes. It feels like people aren't even speaking the same language anymore when it comes to politics."

You take a sip of your sweet tea, watching Steve carefully as he considers his response. You can see the determination in his eyes.

Steve leans back in his chair, his eyes scanning the faces of the men around the table. The warm glow of the restaurant's lighting casts a soft hue on their weathered features, each line and wrinkle telling a story of years lived and experiences gained.

"You're right, Frank. It does feel like we're not speaking the same language anymore. But that's exactly why I'm running as an independent candidate," Steve begins, his voice calm but filled with conviction. "I'm not beholden to either the Democratic or Republican party. This isn't just about wearing a different color tie or having a different letter next to my name on the ballot. It's about fundamentally changing from a battle for political power between red and blue to calling for consensus to see action that matters to the three hundred and thirty-four million people who live in our country."

He pauses, reaching for his sweet tea. "I believe we need to start by listening to each other again," Steve continues, his eyes meeting each of the men's gazes in turn. "Really listening, not just waiting for our turn to speak. That's why we're here, sitting with you gentlemen, sharing a meal. It's why we make these stops at local businesses and community centers across the country."

You nod in agreement, swallowing a bite of your brisket sandwich before adding, "We've found that when you sit down with people, break bread together, and have real conversations, you often discover that we're not as different as the headlines make us out to be."

Tom, speaks up. "That's all well and good, but how does that translate to actual policy? How do you bridge the gap when it comes to the big issues?"

Steve leans forward, his elbows on the table. "It starts by voting for policies, not parties. When we focus on specific issues rather than partisan loyalties, we often find more common ground than we expect. For example, take healthcare. Most Americans, regardless of political affiliation, agree that healthcare costs are too high and that something needs to be done. The disagreement is usually about how to solve the problem, not whether it exists."

He pauses to take another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "We just spoke with a young woman over there named Emily who's worried about affording health insurance. That's not a red or blue issue - that's an American issue."

Joe nods slowly. "I can relate to that. My grandson's in the same boat."

"Exactly," Steve continues. "So instead of getting bogged down in partisan debates, we need to look at what's actually working. What can we learn from other countries? What innovative solutions are individual states implementing? We need to be willing to try new approaches and admit when something isn't working."

Frank leans back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That sounds good in theory, Captain, but how do you get Congress to go along with that? They seem pretty set in their ways."

Steve nods, acknowledging the challenge. "You're right, Frank. Changing the culture in Washington won't be easy. But I believe the American people are ready for a different approach. If we can build a broad coalition of voters who demand bipartisan solutions, we can put pressure on Congress to work together."

"And," you add, setting down your fork, "Steve isn't just talking about compromise for the sake of compromise. It's about finding common ground and building on it. For example, both parties agree that we need to improve our infrastructure. So let's start there and create jobs while we're at it."

Bill nods slowly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I like the sound of that.”

The conversation eases from there to the two of you learning more about the four men and the lives they’ve led in Kansas while you eat. Once you’re finished - Steve having cleared both your trays when you’d had your fill of the collection - you take a picture with these men as well, and with Jerry and some of the staff by the counter before you leave.

When you and Steve step out of Arthur Bryant's, the warm evening air envelops you. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow over the city streets. You can still taste the smoky flavor of the barbecue, and your stomach feels pleasantly full.

A small crowd has gathered, word having spread of your presence at the iconic barbecue joint. There's a mix of excitement and curiosity in their faces as they call out greetings and words of encouragement.

Steve pauses to shake a few hands and exchange brief words with some of the gathered people. You follow suit, touched by the warmth and genuine interest of the Kansas City residents.

"Thank you for coming to our city," an older woman says, her eyes shining. "It means a lot that you're taking the time to visit places like this."

"We're honored to be here," you reply sincerely. "Thank you for your hospitality."

As you walk towards the waiting SUV, the ever-present security detail for your public outings moves seamlessly around you, a constant reminder of the enormity of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Steve opens the door for you. Just before you step in, you turn back to wave at the small crowd, and Steve waves at them, as well.

Inside the SUV with the door closed, the calm quiet is nice. Steve's hand finds yours again, and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "That was something, wasn’t it," he says, a contented smile on his face.

You nod in agreement. "The food was incredible, but the conversations... that's what makes these stops so special."

"It really is," Steve replies, his voice thoughtful. "Every time we do something like this, I'm reminded of why we're doing all of it. It's about the Emilys and the Bills and the Jerrys."

As the SUV pulls away from Arthur Bryant's, you both settle into a comfortable silence, processing the events of the evening. Steve's thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, a now-familiar gesture that never fails to sooth you and make you feel more connected to him. "You know," he says softly, "I was thinking about what Bill said. About how things feel different now, more divided."

You turn to face him, seeing the thoughtful expression on his face. "What are you thinking?"

Steve's brow furrows slightly. "I've seen this country go through a lot of changes, faced a lot of challenges. But there's always been this... resilience, this underlying unity that pulled us through. I wonder sometimes if we've lost sight of that."

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. "I don't think we've lost it completely. It's still there, just buried under a lot of noise and frustration and fear. What we saw tonight - people coming together, sharing a meal, having real conversations - that's the spirit of America that's always been there."

Steve nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're right. And that’s the job now - uncover that spirit again, remind people of what we can accomplish when we work together."

You shift back to get more comfortable in your seat again, but keep holding hands as you look out the window.

"Are you nervous about the Oprah interview airing tonight?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

Steve chuckles softly. "A little," he admits. "It's one thing to have these intimate conversations with people like we just did, but knowing millions will be watching..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “And the revelation about our marriage…”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You were amazing during the interview. Honest, authentic, just like you always are. People will respond to that."

He turns to you, his blue eyes filled with warmth. "We were amazing together," he corrects gently. "You went with me when I climbed out on that limb of truth.”

“I was feeling the need to set the record straight, too,” you reassure him. “It felt like you were reading my mind.”

He lets out a breath that apparently he was holding. “I couldn't imagine doing any of this without you now."

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. Even after all this time, he still has that effect on you. "Well, good thing you don't have to," you reply with a soft smile.

As the SUV winds its way through the Kansas City streets, you both fall into a comfortable silence, watching the city lights flicker to life as evening overtakes the afternoon.

The weight of the campaign, the responsibility you've taken on, settles over you like a familiar blanket. There’s the mantle of potential presidential job ahead, but then there’s things like the motorcade. To come on this very small outing to get food, there were three SUVs - the one the two of you are riding in, one ahead, and one behind - and eight Secret Security men and women, plus two campaign staffers who had come to make sure things went smoothly in and out, pick up the food, and pay for everything, and Steve is only a candidate.

If he becomes president, it will only grow - more security, bigger motorcade, four years of responsibilities and obligations and opportunities and being scheduled every waking hour of the day.

As you contemplate the enormity of it all, Steve's voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asks softly, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on your hand.

You turn to him with a small smile. "Just thinking about how much our lives have changed. And how much more they would change if we win."

Steve nods, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes I still can't believe we're here, doing this."

"Do you ever regret it?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Deciding to run?"

Steve is quiet for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. "No," he says finally, his voice firm. "It's not easy, and there are days when I feel the weight of it more than others. But then I think about the people we meet all day, every day.”

“Your big heart is a sucker for people,” you tease him good-naturedly. “If only you were more surly and selfish.”

Steve chuckles at your teasing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're right, I am a sucker for people. But you're no better, Mrs. Rogers."

As you continue to banter, the SUV turns onto a tree-lined street in a quiet suburban neighborhood. The sun has fully set now, and the warm glow of streetlights illuminates rows of well-maintained houses. Each home seems to tell its own story - some with Halloween decorations already adorning their porches, others with children's bicycles left haphazardly on front lawns.

The SUV slows to a stop in front of a charming two-story house with pale yellow siding and white trim. A wrap-around porch extends across the front, complete with a porch swing gently swaying in the evening breeze. The lawn is neatly manicured, with vibrant flower beds lining the walkway.

"Home sweet home, at least for tonight," Steve says with a smile as he opens the car door. “Tell me you’re just as eager as I am to meet Jake’s family.”

“I’ve been dying of curiosity ever since we found out!” You step out of the car, walking quickly up the front sidewalk.

No one knew Jake’s sister lived in Kansas with her husband and four kids until Elsa brought up whether the team should watch the interview together at the hotel or in groups in a few of the suites when Jake said that wouldn’t be necessary - that his baby sister had insisted she wanted to host the full traveling staff in her home for it.

As you approach the front door, it swings open before you can knock. A petite woman with Jake's same dark brown eyes and infectious smile emerges, her face beaming with excitement.

"Welcome! I'm Kathy, Jake's sister," she says, extending her hand. "It's such an honor to have you both here."

Steve shakes her hand warmly. "The honor is ours, Kathy. We can’t thank you for opening your home to us."

You follow suit, greeting Kathy with a smile. "It's wonderful to finally meet you."

Kathy ushers you inside, where the aroma of freshly baked cookies mingles with the scent of coffee, and the rest of your team begins to file in behind you. The living room is cozy and inviting, with overstuffed couches and chairs arranged to face a large flat-screen TV. Campaign staff members are already scattered around the room, chatting animatedly and nibbling on chips and cookies.

The house is alive with domestic energy, a stark contrast to the usual hotel suites and conference rooms you've grown accustomed to. Children's laughter echoes from somewhere upstairs, and you can hear the distant chatter of voices coming from what you assume is the kitchen.

Kathy's husband, a tall man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, emerges from the dining room. "I'm Tom," he introduces himself, shaking your hands. "We've set up a spot in the dining room for the barbecue spread.”

“Sorry for descending on you with all this chaos, Tom,” Steve apologizes.

“Oh, please, we’ve got four kids from four to sixteen, this is hardly new for us. Bring this kind of feast and you’re welcome any night of the week,” he insists.

Steve heads through to the dining room with Tom, but you make your way to the kitchen instead. Your eyes land on Bucky who’s in close conversation with campaign spokesperson Lisa and one of the new speechwriters.

They look up when they notice you.

“Where’s Sophia?” you ask. You don’t need her in this moment, but you’re so used to her finding you whenever you arrive at a new location if she isn’t already with you that it’s strange you haven’t seen her yet.

With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Bucky informs you, “She’s out on the back porch with Sam.”

You raise an eyebrow in surprise and ask, “Alone?”

Bucky just smiles slyly and confirms your suspicions - he's trying to play matchmaker. You had wondered if you were only being hopeful at seeing signs of a potential spark between them, and now you’re glad it wasn’t only you seeing things happening there.

“Hang on,” Lisa slams her water bottle down on the counter. “Sam and Sophia?”

Bucky nods, “Mhmm.”

“No! Not yet!” she blusters. “We’re still three weeks out from election day! This is your first campaign, Barnes, so believe me when I tell you we need to avoid as many campaign crushes coming together as we can for at least another week - two if we can manage it - if we want to keep this operation running like a well-oiled machine! We want people pining as long as we can, not working through the awkward is this crush lasting after the campaign phase in the final days.” And with that, Lisa’s already rushing out of the kitchen, no doubt on her way to need something from one of them.

You shake your head, amused by Lisa’s reaction. As much as you understand her perspective from a campaign management standpoint, you can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for Sam and Sophia. After all, you know exactly how difficult it is to navigate feelings in the midst of such an intense, all-consuming experience.

But you wonder how Lisa’s timeline translates to you and Steve because this isn’t a campaign crush? You’re married to the someone you’re building a relationship with on the campaign trail.

Because you have developed strong, deep feelings for Steve. You know they’re real. You know he has feelings for you. You’ve said things to each other indicating you both know this isn’t only a marriage to have a President and potential First Lady campaigning for the White House any more. But what are the next steps, and is there a too soon to take them on the campaign trail? The past week has been wonderful, spending time so effortlessly together as you can, routinely sitting right next to each other without question, holding hands, Steve’s arms often around your shoulders. There hadn’t been more kissing like your night alone in Brooklyn, but there had been more chaste kisses exchanged, and easily.

In a matter of hours things would fundamentally shift given what the rest of the world was going to learn about your marriage from the interview, so it would probably be smart to maintain whatever you were now and ride out whatever the fallout might end up being, and not add any more complexity to the situation.

“She’s right,” the other woman in the room says, bringing your attention back to the moment with Bucky and the speechwriter. “I’ve seen so many campaign crushes peak too soon, and it’s painful to watch,” she laughs - but do you detect it’s a little nervously?

Jake enters the kitchen with a broad smile.

"You made it here!" he exclaims. "I see you've met the family. What do you think of my little sister's humble abode, Mrs. Rogers?"

You return his smile warmly. "It's lovely so far. Your sister and her husband really are so great to host all of us."

Jake chuckles. "Yeah, Kathy's always been like that. Heart of gold. You should see her at Thanksgiving - she insists on inviting every stray and lonely soul in the neighborhood."

You arch an eyebrow. “Jake, I have this suspicion there’s a big softie under your campaign manager persona to rival your sister.”

“Sure, of course,” he admits, “but people can’t know I have a marshmallow heart up front. When the staff are afraid and want to impress me, they set the bar high and only keep climbing from there.” He points at the Bucky and the speechwriter, “I will deny it if you spread that nasty rumor.”

You all laugh.

“Will you two make the rounds?” Jake looks at Bucky and the speechwriter. “Let people know dinner’s up and that I need to talk to everyone about five minutes before the interview starts to air? Living room.”

Jake's request sends the other two off, leaving you alone with him in the kitchen. He turns to you with a more serious expression.

"How are you holding up?" he asks, his voice lowered. "Big night."

You take a deep breath, considering your answer. "I'm okay. A little nervous, I guess. It's one thing to do the interview, but now that it’s done but finally going to be out there for better or worse..."

Jake nods understandingly. "It's natural to feel that way. But I want you to know, you and Steve both knocked it out of the park. The footage I've seen is powerful stuff."

You feel a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "Thanks, Jake. That means a lot."

"And I do mean it," he continues, leaning against the counter. "You know I don’t get paid to bullshit anyone. The honesty, the vulnerability... it's exactly what people need to see right now.”

You smile gratefully at Jake's reassurance. "I just hope the public sees it that way."

Jake nods confidently. "They will. Look, I've been in this game a long time, and I've rarely seen candidates connect with people the way you and Steve do. This interview is just going to reinforce that."

As you're about to respond, Steve enters the kitchen, a plate of barbecue in hand. "There you are," he says, smiling warmly at you. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

Jake straightens up, clapping Steve on the shoulder. "Just giving your wife a little pep talk before the big show," he says with a wink. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit. Don't forget, living room in about fifteen minutes."

As Jake exits, Steve moves closer to you, setting his plate down on the counter. You grin, familiar now with how much food the super soldier can pack away.

"You okay?" Steve asks softly, his blue eyes searching your face.

You nod, grin softening to a smaller smile. "Jake says we’ll be fine, but I can’t help a few nerves still."

Steve reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "We're in this together. Whatever happens, we face it as a team."

His touch and words calm you, as they always do now. You squeeze his hand back. "You're right."

Steve smiles, then glances at his plate of barbecue. "Want to help me out with some of this?"

You laugh, eyeing the heaping plate. "No way. I’m saving the small bit of room I’ve got for one of Kathy’s cookies."

The two of you chat with campaign staffers as they filter in and out of the kitchen and Tom and Kathy - who comes through with a plate of her cookies - until it’s time to congregate in the living room.

Once everyone is packed in on all the furniture, extra chairs that have been brought in, and even some pillows and cushions on spots of the floor, its crowded but cozy, and it seems like it would be wrong to have any of the team in the other room for a night like this.

Jake stands in front of the tv - which is already on but muted until the interview goes live - and clears his throat. The room falls silent, all eyes turning to him. The excitement in the air is palpable, a mix of nervous energy and anticipation.

"Alright, team," Jake begins, his voice carrying across the crowded living room. "Before we dive into the interview, I've got some news to share." He pauses, building the suspense, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I just got off the phone with our polling team," he continues, his eyes scanning the room. "We have official data as of an hour ago, and I've got to say, the numbers are looking good. Really good."

A murmur of excitement ripples through the group. You feel Steve's hand tighten around yours, his body tensing slightly beside you.

Jake holds up his hands, calling for quiet. "Now, I don't want anyone getting ahead of themselves, but..." he pauses again before his face breaks into a wide smile. "Our latest poll shows that Steve has gained four points in the last week alone. This puts the Rogers-Young ticket just three points behind our closest competitor."

The room erupts in cheers and applause. You see Sam clap Bucky on the back, both men grinning ear to ear. Campaign staffers high-five each other, their faces beaming with excitement. You feel a surge of elation course through you, and you turn to Steve, who's wearing an expression of disbelief and joy.

“However,” Jake cuts into the celebrations, “no one can coast, especially after tonight. In tonight’s interview, Captain and Mrs. Rogers shared some information about their relationship that is going to dramatically shift public perception of their marriage. There are about a dozen people who already know, and I’m going to tell you now so that you have the next twenty minutes or so to wrap your head around how you’re own reaction.”

The nervous excitement in the room turned to trepidation within less than a second.

Jake continues, “There’s superstitions - or expectations - that there’s always some type of news that will break weeks or days before an election that has a significant impact on the narrative of the campaigns for public perception and tip the scales for who wins - it’s called the October Surprise. This might be it.”

You hold your breath and Steve holds tightly to your hand.

“Some of you have idly asked questions or made comments about the Rogers’ quick engagement and marriage and accepted the statement that they realized if they were going to get married, they needed to do it before the filing deadline to officially get Steve on the ballot. Others have noticed and wondered why we always book them separate rooms. I said the directive to our advance coordinator came from me, that it simplified things if one of them had an earlier departure time than the other.

“The truth is,” Jake explains, “that I said Captain Rogers needed a wife if we were going to have any chance of winning with him running as a third-party candidate without a prior political career. Theirs was a politically arranged marriage, and they met the day of their wedding.”

There are gasps and murmurs immediately around the room.

“I know you will have questions. Elsa is giving the same news to our team back at campaign HQ in DC,” Jake says. “I’d like everyone to watch the interview before you ask any questions or make any statements or decisions. If you’re in this room, I’m betting you’re giving your blood, sweat, and tears for more than the semantics around their marriage, and I think what you’ll learn from their conversation with Oprah will answer most of your questions. Deal?”

There’s still some tension in the air, but the consensus is there.

“Then, here we go,” Jake says. “Remember, as with everything else on this campaign, only Lisa makes statements on behalf of the campaign, and that includes texts from your family and friends who want an inside scoop from you tonight while they watch with the rest of America.”

The television is taken off mute, and within moments, the program begins.

Watching the interview is an out of body experience. You remember every moment, reliving it as it plays out on screen. The ninety minutes seem to stretch on forever, and yet when it’s all over and done, it feels like it can’t have been more than five minutes.

Everyone says it went well. You think it went well. Steve feels like it went well. The team has a few questions - mostly for Jake about strategy and messaging moving forward. Steve says he’s more than willing to answer questions, but Mike - one of the policy advisors - seems to speak for everyone when he says, "I think we're good, Cap. We all probably need some time to fully process this, but the interview spoke for itself. You two were honest and open. I'm still 100% behind this campaign and what you stand for.”

There are nods and murmurs of agreement from the rest of the team. The tension that had filled the room earlier has dissipated, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

Jake claps his hands together. "Alright, team. Let's all get some rest and we'll regroup in the morning. Elsa and Peter have already been working on strategy ahead of tonight, and they and Lisa will already be working tonight and with the first wave of morning shows bright and early. Dump questions and thoughts into the Slack workspace to your directors as needed or straight to me. We’ll meet in the morning discuss our next phase and handling the positive and negative reactions we expect moving forward."

As the group begins to disperse, you and Steve make your way to Kathy and Tom to thank them for their hospitality.

"It was our pleasure," Kathy says warmly, pulling you both into a hug. "We're honored to have been a part of this night."

Tom nods in agreement. "You're welcome back anytime you’re in Kansas. And for what it's worth, I think you two make a great team, arranged marriage or not."

You feel a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thank you, Tom. That means a lot."

Behind them, there’s a smaller TV on behind them, muted, but showing pundits already discussing the interview.

Jake approaches. "The SUV is ready when you are," he says. "I've arranged for you to have a later start tomorrow morning. I figure you both could use some extra rest after tonight."

Steve nods gratefully. "Thanks, Jake. We appreciate it."

Sam, Bucky, and Sophia are all with you and Steve on the ride back to the hotel.

There are six or eight of your team who arrived ahead of you, and you cross paths with them on the way to the hotel bar. They invite the five of you to join them, when you meet Steve’s eyes, you can see he’s feeling as drained you, and so the two of you encourage everyone else to go and make your excuses to go upstairs.

In the elevator, Steve drapes an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his side. You melt into him, wrapping both arms around his strong chest, and inhale his scent - smiling at the tinge of barbecue smoke that mingled in and still lingers from earlier in the day.

As the elevator rises, you feel the tension of the evening finish melting away. The warmth of Steve's body against yours is comforting, and you allow yourself to fully relax into his embrace.

"What a night," Steve murmurs, his voice rumbling in his chest.

You nod against him. "I still can't believe we actually did it. Told the whole world."

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

The elevator dings as it reaches your floor. Steve keeps his arm around you as you walk down the hallway to your rooms. When you reach your door, you both pause, and he moves away from you just enough to clearly look at you.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his blue eyes searching your face.

You take a moment to consider the question. "Relieved, I think. And a little scared. But mostly... hopeful?"

Steve nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I feel the same way. The weight has been lifted, but now we're stepping into uncharted territory."

You lean against the door frame, looking up at him. "No more hiding, no more pretending. It's all out there now."

"For better or worse," Steve agrees, his eyes never leaving yours.

Steve's hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. You move to close the gap between you, cup your hand around his neck, and press your lips to his. There’s heat in the kiss, but it’s soft, warm, promising.

The kiss deepens as Steve's arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. You sink into his embrace, fingers threading through his hair, falling further into the kiss.

When you finally part, you're both a little breathless. Steve rests his forehead against yours, a soft smile on his lips. "I've been wanting to do that all day," he murmurs.

You can't help but smile back. "Me too."

For a moment, you both just stand there, savoring the closeness. Then reality creeps back in - you're still in the hallway of a hotel, with your security details positioned nearby, trying to be as discreet as they can in a long hallway which translates to almost zero discreetness.

Steve seems to realize this too. He straightens up, though he keeps one arm around your waist. "We should both get some sleep," he says, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You nod, but don't release your hold on him. "Probably," you agree.

For another moment, neither of you moves, but then you hear the elevator ding again at the end of the hallway and break apart as it opens, a few staffers stepping out.

As the staffers approach, you and Steve exchange a look that speaks volumes. The moment has passed, but the lingering warmth remains.

You exchange a few words and offer polite nods as they pass by. Once they're out of earshot, you turn back to Steve with a small, almost shy smile.

"Goodnight, Steve," you say softly, reaching for your room key.

He catches your hand gently before you can insert the key, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. "Goodnight," he murmurs against your skin.

With one last lingering look, Steve reluctantly lets go of your hand and steps back. You slip into your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. Leaning against it, you take a deep breath, your heart still racing from the kiss and the intensity of Steve's gaze.

You move through your nightly routine on autopilot, your mind still buzzing. As you climb into bed, you can't help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. The world knows the truth now, and there's no telling how they'll react.

But as you drift off to sleep, it was such a good day that you find yourself feeling more excited than anxious.

Twelve hours later, you would not believe how wrong you were.

next part: Kansas to Tucson

I gave you a little calm before the storm.

Plus some seeds of Sam & Sophia! 🥰

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[14dayswithyou]

I was thinking over the landlord situation because a small detail stuck in my mind. Ren seemed surprised that the issues in Angel's building weren't being dealt with.

Possibly it's just that a negligent landlord would never happen to him with his fancy apartment, or he owns it, and he's out of touch with normal renting problems.

But for fun maybe he secretly is the landlord and wasn't getting the complaints because he doesn’t pay much attention to duties? Is he getting the complaints but putting himself in the position to fix them as 'Ren', impressing Angel? He already volunteered for guard dog duty against… himself.

Was it faked surprise because he's responsible for causing those issues for his own benefit? 

I feel Ren potentially did ruin the air mattress in advance hoping to be invited into the bed, blaming rats when it was discovered. Maybe it was done that day while waiting for Angel to get off work. 

Maybe he remotely jammed the elevator too because... idk why he'd do that, there should be cameras already in the lift and they should be hackable. Or maybe he just uses the stairs for stealth and only spies on Angel’s flat, so genuinely didn't know the crappy elevator wasn't working. Possible. Maybe he also wants the flat to be shitty and seem dangerous to push Angel into moving in with him.

Perhaps Ren knows who the landlord is and was surprised for that reason? It's not likely that he's installed a friend into the job if he's a loner, but I think he did once have family friends (of his parents) into some shady business. Perhaps they pivoted their legit real estate investments into a money laundering front and no longer attend to the tenants needs well. Maybe he knows the building layout from visiting them years ago as a child, and that's how he avoids being caught.

Or is Ren making a mental note to kill the bad landlord for inconveniencing Angel? and potentially take over the job

Anyway don't mind me, I like to puzzle on things.

���゜ANSWERED: In case some folks might not know: if you make the right choices, you can actually meet the landlord in Day 3 instead of Olivia! They also address the rat complaints — though their response is kinda meme-y — and the overall scene isn't intended to be taken seriously.

Ren, however, does know the landlord’s identity already, but doesn’t do anything about it because they actively play a massive role in his plans.

⚠️ Day 3 + general lore spoilers under the cut!! ⚠️

Essentially, Ren wants Angel to move in with him — which is why he’s so adamant on giving them a key to his place. And like you picked up on; he keeps bringing up how awful it is to live in Angel’s neighbourhood in hopes of having them realise this and depend on Ren instead. After all, the only thing he wants is to be Angel's top priority and the person they go to first in any given situation.

Ren is also no stranger to rent problems while growing up. I've mentioned this before, but prior to living in a small, rundown home; Ren and his family used to live in a trailer park. There was hardly much room or privacy for everyone, and the maintenance there was awful.

I do like the theory about Ren using shady connections between his friends/family for his bidding!! Canonically though, Ren has no friends outside of Angel and River, and he hasn't been in contact with any of his blood relations in years.

Also!! I do want to restate that the rats in the demo genuinely are rats. It wasn't Ren tearing up a hole in Angel's mattress (he didn’t think you'd invite him over in Day 1 + he respects your comfort level), but it was him stealing specific items.

[ordowrites]

paparazzi

cw: D/s, B/D/S/M practices, maybe ooc?, modern day AU, minors dni, mdni, some choking, semi-public sex, Diluc is a brat tamer, some use of 'Sir', afab!reader, praise kink, breeding kink, breeding mention, semi realistic power exchange but not quite, oral (m.receiving), please let me know if i forgot to tag something, this is entirely self indulgent, established relationship, negotiated k!nk (off screen), not sfw, reader wears a dress, banter

ageless and blank blogs DNI. Do not post elsewhere.

word count: 2086

you two are a power couple, well loved by all - it is clear to the world diluc is enamored with you and you, him. most women desire him but oh, if only they knew what happens behind closed doors.

His arm is wrapped around your waist, hand at your hip and you look straight forward - hoping that the flashing of the lights won't blind you so much as the two of you slowly make your way down the red carpet. Paparazzi and news casters all clamor to ask questions, yelling out things in hopes of getting either your or your husband's attention. You sigh, this is the last place you want to be today but it's important to your husband to attend this party and you, the dutiful spouse, agreed to take some time from your own work to join him.

As a show for the paparazzi, your dearest husband gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him with those red eyes that always catch you off guard and entice you. Diluc is not one for such large displays of public affection but tonight, he seems to be in a very different mood. Perhaps it has something to do with your dress choice, low cut to give him a lovely glimpse of those breasts he loves to play with and a slit at the side of your leg, showing off a bit of a thigh garter you wear - it may look like a sexy fashion statement but its significance is not lost on either you nor Diluc.

When you had first put it on, he looked as if he was trying to not jump you before heading out. You had grinned and asked if he was alright, and how he had to catch himself and told you no. You love to tease him, after all, the more you tease, the more fun the night becomes. You’ve made it into a personal game to see how long you can tease him before he snaps and drags you off somewhere - he is, at heart, a wild and feral man. The bruises beneath your dress are a testament, how they flourish against your skin, how he always kisses each and everyone of those bruises afterwards. This man truly has your heart as much as you have his. 

He kisses you in no extra fashion, but it seems to get the crowd excited and shouting. Soon enough, Diluc is guiding you down the red carpet again. Your relationship is the envy of all, it is perfect on the outside. Every gossip magazine, every bit of celebrity following always brings the two of you up as the ideal couple. But oh, if they knew what happened behind closed doors, you wonder if the perception would be different.

"Mr. Ragnivindr, can you tell us about your latest invention?" Someone calls, and he stops walking again and looks at them. He inclines his head to you, a small frown on those plump lips of his and you think of better uses for his mouth than talking to someone.

"She's the brains behind it, she is, after all, the smart one." He answers. "I'm merely here to...indulge. In the future, please direct questions to her."

You blush and shake your head. "Oh, Diluc," you gently admonish with a soft giggle. "Don't be so humble."

"Is honesty being humble?" He returns as he kisses you again. All for show, and you realize that he brought you along just to show you off. "I am merely stating the truth, my beloved."

With that, he hurries the two of you inside - no longer wanting to interact with a crowd of faceless strangers. Inside is much quieter, with less flashing lights and people calling out. Everyone who are all big names are at this party, all wanting to social climb or make some sort of connection.

Socializing takes all of your battery with these folks, but you do it with ease and Diluc could not look prouder. Though on occasion, you do flirt with another guy or chat them up, laughing at horrible jokes. This is just a game the two of you play - you would never be unfaithful to Diluc, but you do like to rile him up. Get him to let go of that picture perfect image he tries to maintain.

You sip at the wine that is available and sigh. You stepped away from the crowds of people to get a breather - you're certain your face will break in half if you have to keep grinning. Man, how you long to be at home, curled up on the couch with a good book while some show plays in the background. (The other option is something you want to banish from your head, but your husband being in proximity does not help you in doing so.)

"This wine isn't very sweet," you murmur as you take another sip. "It's very disappointing."

"My apologies that what we have created does not meet your palate," Diluc says - you're uncertain if he's being sarcastic or not but you grin.

"You better be sorry. You know I never settle for anything less."

He scoffs and chuckles a little bit, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I will be sure to only cater to your picky tastes in the future, my love." You snag some chocolate from a silver platter that's being carried around by some of the staff.

"Y'know," you say as you take a bite of the food. "Chocolate and wine make for an interesting aphrodisiac." He gives a soft hum in response as you hold up the remainder of the snack to him - your eyes widen when he accepts the food, but also takes your fingers into your mouth. You stifle a gasp as he sucks on your fingers and swirls his tongue around. Your cunt clenches, wishing his mouth were working somewhere else that's not your fingers.

To the outside, the two of you look like a cute couple doing something stupid and cute. More gossip for folks in the morning. Your heart pounds in your chest - you know exactly what message he is sending to you.

Especially when he releases your fingers from his mouth with a wet pop, but keeps a firm grip on your wrist as he presses a kiss to the palm of your hand. He trails kisses along your inner wrist, stopping short of your elbow. You struggle to recover from this.

"Perhaps we should try that out sometime, then." He murmurs. You step close to him.

"Oh, Diluc, you're hard." you return, your voice just as low. The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Hmm? Oh, well - perhaps then, too, you should stop being a tease." Diluc is a very patient man, up until a point. It's working then, you think. An idea pops into your head as you set the empty glass down. "Are you okay?"

You gently grab his hand and pull him along, weaving through the crowds of people, hellbent on the mission and getting what you want. You find an empty, private bathroom and close the door, locking it. Impeccably clean, at least.

“Are you alright?” Diuc asks again, concern etched on his pretty features. You nod as you pull him into a soft kiss, which he returns with extra fervor - your goal is to get him to lose control for just a little bit. You know, beneath this perfect image, is a very feral man waiting to be unleashed. Your body is canvas, a testament to your secrets. Fingers dexterously unzip his pants, undoing his belt and revealing his cock that still makes your eyes widen. “Oh.” You drop to your knees with ease, giving the head of his cock a soft kiss and he lets out a soft groan. “You are a very naughty girl.” The gasp is very delicious to you.

You hum as you take him further into your mouth until he reaches the back of your throat. You pull back for a moment, teasing the head of his cock for a few minutes and reaching to play a bit with his balls. His fingers perch in your hair. You continue your ministrations on him, making sure to push him further and further until he’s more of a mess than a man, looking down at you with hunger that makes you shiver.

“Quit teasing.” he hisses and you barely listen to him, loving the way his cock fills up your mouth, the way he twitches and trembles. The hands perched in your hair soon enough yank you off, leaving a trail of saliva and precum. You lick your lips and swallow. “You are a tease.” He hisses this as he yanks you to your feet, carefully steadying you before pushing you, face first, against the counter. He snaps the thigh garter and you gasp. “You’re lucky we’re not at home or this would be ending differently.”

His words send a thrill through you and make your cunt clench tighter.

“Well, hopefully, ‘m making this worth not being at home.” You say as he presses against you, his hand snaking up the skirt of your dress. Through the mirror, you watch as his eyes widen as his fingers reach your slit. “Worth your while, right?”

He presses a kiss at the crook of your neck. “You are…” Diluc bites your shoulder. “Something else.”

You let out a soft laugh and it turns into a soft moan as fingers slip inside of you - he teases you this time, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb rubs your clit - he never presses too hard but he certainly pinches every so often. You come around his fingers with a shudder as he finger fucks you, his teeth digging into your neck again.

Diluc pulls away briefly, allowing you a moment of respite - his hungry red eyes gaze down into yours. He looks wild, feral almost.

There’s a momentary pause before he’s lifting you up and hoisting you onto the bathroom counter. Diluc forces your legs to remain open, exposing yourself to him and he licks his lips. He gives your cunt another firm strike before bending down and pressing a soft kiss to it.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Beg.”

This is your penance for being a tease, you think. Your thoughts are cut off by another strike, this time a bit lighter and you whimper. The head of his cock teases you, and all you can think about is him filling you up, bouncing you on his dick, filling you up - you wish to be stretched and owned and bitten and loved.

“Please, please, please-” You whine.

“Please what?”

You swallow. “Please fuck me, sir.”

Diluc smiles. He is pleased and he kisses you on the lips briefly before shoving himself inside of you - to the hilt. At first, you tense up, moaning in desperation at such an action. At first, he is deceptively gentle - pulling out slowly and carefully thrusting back in. His pace picks up and all you’re able to do is wrap your arms around his shoulders as he fucks you mercilessly - his cock feels so good and you squeeze around him.

“Gonna - breed you -” he rasps against your ear. You clench tighter. “Make sure everyone knows when they see you round and plump with my child.”

He continues to bite and suck at your neck, public appearance be damned, and you’re sure you’re noisier than the music at this rich person’s party. Diluc groans against your skin as he cums inside, easily filling you up and you nearly tighten your legs to keep him in place.

Diluc slowly pulls out, some semen dripping out of your pussy and it’s obscene, even more so when he starts shoving some back inside of you.

“We should clean up.” You murmur after a moment. “Head back.”

“Mm.” He’s biting at your breasts now, clearly no longer interested in the party. “Let’s head home, actually.” The two of you do your best to clean yourselves up, before he’s guiding you out of the bathroom and away from the ballroom. “Family emergency.” Is all he tells people with inquisitive, inquiring gazes.

The cold air outside is welcome against your flushed skin but you don’t have long to relish in it before he’s shoving you into the back of the limo and rolling up the privacy divider as he climbs on top of you while the door behind him slams shut.

The dress of your skirt is hiked up and he is pulling down your top again, lips returning to the soft skin of your breasts, hands kneading the other one.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Diluc rumbles.

[ausp-ice]

I am Names. You can call me that if you want. To friends… how about Friend? To strangers, Stranger. To those who dislike me, how about Odious? To those I dislike, I can be Vile. If you're unsure, how about Ilk? Or, if you like… you can give me your name, and I'll give you a new one. We could even share. But what are names, exactly? They are titles, they are windows. They are promises and self-fulfilling prophecies. They are identities and they are masks. They are opportunities and chains. Names have power, more power than you might think. So, think carefully�� what shall your Name be?

Names (mirrored/any), Edeia of Names. My little indulgence for a fae-inspired Edeia! Definitely just inspiration though. Folklore was not referenced for accuracy.

(They definitely play the "may I have your name" / "may I have your pronouns" game.)

More about them below the cut! And even more about them on TH.

Edeia Site | Edeia Discord | Personal Website

About Names

The Edeia generally known as Names has many names, and many facets of their self to go along with them. Some might think of the countless names as false identities, but for Names, each name they use is one real to them, one in which they'd found themself. They enjoy testing the limits of who they are, who they could be, and who they want to be. 

Names also enjoys playing "games"… where they are always at an advantage in one way or another, and/or at no risk of loss. These include deals, gambles, and other arrangements they find interesting. For instance, even if another offers their Name, Names will never offer theirs—if they even have any risk of loss, besides their magic power. One example of a gamble they might play with a human is that if the human wins, they'll give them a name sure to bring them great financial success and stability; if the human loses, they'll give them a name of a pariah. They don't care too much about the outcomes for these humans; they're just as happy to laugh at someone as they are to laugh with someone, generally speaking. 

Names does like to give a fair chance, however—or fair enough, however you look at it. They've crafted their abilities so that others' Names aren't immediately revealed to them, for one. They'll avoid finding out others' names and other forms of address outside of interacting with them directly, as it's part of their "game" of getting to know others.  

They also enjoy all sorts of music and dance; they collect every kind of instrument and try to learn it, and like to learn all sorts of dances (with a preference for folk dances). They also create their own instruments, compose their own songs, and choreograph their own dances. In their games, a human might find themself relieved that their loss penalty or price for a deal is simply to teach Names a dance, a song, how to use a certain instrument, or an instrument itself. Names might invite others, including humans and Edeia, into their Abstraction for a festival of song and dance. 

Names is unrepentantly themself in all their names. They have made themself into exactly who they want to be, after all. They can enjoy good company and friendship, though they don't particularly care if others dislike or grow to dislike them; they are just as happy in solitude, in their music and dance, and in their "games." 

History

Names was once an Identity—rather, they were a human that would have become one. Let's call them Ming (名, Míng, meaning 'name'). They were born among the Chinese landed gentry during the Tang Dynasty with the Idea of Identity, and they grew up highly aware of the kinds of identities others had around them. They were particularly drawn to others' names, however: how the names affected them, how those names affected others. Many they knew had two, three, or more—their given name, courtesy name, art name (pseudonyms, or hào), nicknames, and perhaps other titles. 

As they grew older and made their own name for themself—or perhaps names for themself—they indulged in the experience of giving and receiving names. Names exchanged with Ming had some magic power imbued in them at that time, though not too much. 

It was when Ming met another Actualized Identity, who revealed Ming's state, that Ming realized their magical potential and began experimenting with the extent of their abilities. Through their experimentation, they felt that they did not simply want to be another Identity. They had their own names. They were more than just an "Identity." They sought a deeper understanding of themself, considering each of their names and what they meant; eventually, Ming was, through their magic, able to define their Name. Then, by knowing their Name, they became able to change the essence of themself. Without hesitation, they altered their state of being an Identity to being their own self, and named their Idea as Names. 

At the moment of their changes settling in, they felt themself at a threshold, and Actualized. 

Names traveled often after that, making their way across various parts of the globe. They stayed for quite a while in Europe, delighted and fascinated by the cultures, and having their fun with humans in certain areas. Names and the activity of some other Edeia around this time led to more and more tales of fae, and Names enjoyed taking on the name of Fae to play around with the people, playing up to that name while still being no less true to themself. 

When the time for the Age of Secrecy hit, Names played along with Order's game as well. It was fun to see what they could do within the bounds of secrecy—how for they could go without receiving a warning. As it turns out, quite a bit—so long as humans didn't know there was magic, they could be as superstitious as they wanted, and Names's games worked well in the realm of secrets and uncertainties. They traveled often, sometimes blending their Abstraction with a real forest and inviting in guests to come and get lost in music and dance. After a night of revelry, the human visitors would find themselves asleep in their homes, thinking the experience a fun dream. 

After Reunion began, Names continued their games—and was much more open about their existence. They registered with Data and occasionally visited reunited society (often to learn music and dance), but preferred to travel, spend time in their Abstraction, and draw people in to play their "games." 

[palesweetscherryblossom]

Tomura and Dabi see all the humans they are often given to kill. They are often either elder folk that "have no use anymore" or are just criminals. They don't know why the humans decided to be so cruel. All they knew was that they wouldn't be like that. Tomura considered it mercy when he brought the elderly to some nice coffins where their final rest would begin. Then he would very slowly drink their blood, death was gentle as they often fell asleep within minutes, not even noticing death gently caressing their faces.

Dabi, however, was supposed to take care of the criminals. Some of them were treated better while Tomura just looked at others and hoped that the mercy of death shall reach them soon. But he never interfered with his mate's judgment. He was far kinder than he himself.

Though this night they were surprised as they did not just receive a blind elderly man but also a little child by his side, shivering as the clothes they wore barely covered them up or kept them warm. It looked more like they wore a sack of potatoes.

"Are you alright, little one?" Dabi whispered as he extended his hand towards the small human before him. His lovely mate had taken care of her companion and will probably return soon.

The child just shook their head and backed away, almost stumbling over the sticks that were their legs.

"There is no need to fear anything, sweet little one. Just take my hand. I promise it doesn't burn. I promise it will be gentle and kind. Kinder than those hands from your own kind have treated you," he whispered gently as his glowing blue eyes took the little shaking child in. They were adorable, though his heart squeezed and burned at the thought of the villagers sending then here.

When the little one stepped closer, he smiled softly and soon caressed the back of their shaking hand. "Tell me, dearest, what's your name?"

"...Y/N..."

"What a beautiful name. It's truly a fortune which you bear. Now... Y/N, do you want something warm to wear?"

~~~~~~

Dabi carried the little child in his arms as they held onto his coat and long sleeves. He had washed and dressed the little ome. He knew they would be a perfect present for his mate. It was a present for both of them. They have been wanting to raise for a little pup together for centuries, and not this adorable little Hu was basically given to them. He couldn't help but glow with delight as he brought the little one to their shared coffin.

~~~~~~~~~

These strangers have treated you so kind. They didn't call you any nicknames or threw rocks at the mere sight of you. They didn't glance at you with disgust. Even your own mother couldn't manage to gaze into your eyes as she simply ignored you most days, leaving scraps for you to eat and old racks for you to wear.

You have been nothing more than a bastard.

These people who have been called nothing but monsters and cruel incarnations of the devil now cradled you as both wore the most gentle expression only statues of angles in the churches had held for you. Well, before you had been thrown out, they, too, didn't appreciate your mere presence.

One even let you play with their long and luscious hair as they hummed a lovely melody whole holding you against their chest. Their mere presence made everything around them glow as their faire skin looked so beautuful even with all the "flaws". You had them too, moles all over your skin where the devil had touched you and thin hair along with hollowed up cheeks and scared lips and face. But all they did was clean you and hold you in an incredibly soft blanket.

You hadn't even know what this had felt like. You had cried and begged your own blood to just look at you once. But now, this cold blood bore sure affection towards your pathetic and small form.

You close your eyes as you pet the ball of fluff in your arms, which had placed itself against your body. It was so warm, it... purred and loved you.

They loved you

A/N: Yes in this iteration of the AU reader is a vastard child aka. A child convinced out of wedlock. And that's the reason they were given to the vampires while their mother was stoned :>

I love this so much omg, I reread this so many times it’s not even funny

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Ohai! How about probably a full HC of the M6 as larger-than-life folk heroes like Paul Bunyan and John Henry? Assuming you haven't done this already ofc

Thanks!!

The Arcana HCs: When M6 become folk heroes

Julian

Absolutely living for it, for all the wrong reasons

Does it make him absolutely giddy to overhear tall tales in the pubs he doesn't frequent about the famous Dr Devorak? Absolutely

Does he immediately jump up and correct whoever's talking if he feels like they're painting him in too much of a positive light? ... yes

He's not supposed to be some kind of purehearted, idealistic hero, with a noble focus on the greater good! He's supposed to be a dastardly, dangerous fugitive. (Because that's totally what he is)

You don't know how many times you've watched him go through the following phases, in this specific order:

Phase 1: perk up with his classic roguish grin when he overhears someone bring up the infamous Doctor Devorak

Phase 2: turn bright red and attempt to hide his wobbly face in his tankard when the storyteller starts praising his (very real) good points and recounting his noble deeds

Phase 3: finish his drink, knock over at least one furniture item as he leaps to his feet, and attempt to spread some kind of rumor that the doctor in question is far more questionable than assumed

Phase 4: grab you and run when the storyteller gets mad

Asra

They're genuinely lost about the whole situation

He's not stupid. He's well aware that he practices magic with a kind of ease and experience that's well above the average skill level

(And, if you let them continue, they're more than happy to wax lyrical about how impressive of a magician you are, too)

Yes, he played an instrumental role in thwarting the Devil's plans to take over the human realm not once but twice, and yes, he does associate closely with several public figures. However -

They. Don't. Like. Being. Perceived

Seriously, do you have any idea how hard it is for him to be mysterious when that's all people are talking about??

At this point, they've concocted multiple aliases (for them and you) with names, personalities, accents, and backstories to throw strangers of their trail. They'd like to give the fame back now

Will still bring it up in private conversations with you if it makes you laugh or gives him a potential edge

What, you don't feel like a snack? What if the Famed Magician Asra conjures one for you from a bridge of rainbows growing neon cloud fruits? Would you want to try a bite then???

Nadia

To put it bluntly - she's used to it

She grew up in a very visible, very influential royal family. Strangers on the street knew her name before she was even old enough to say it out loud herself. She's well acquainted with fame

While she's not overly fond of it, being a private person herself, she had no qualms about using the perks that come with it

She has an idea for a new movement in Vesuvia to revitalize the flooded district. Sure, she could fund programs from behind the scenes, or the Great Countess Nadia could make a speech

Of course, playing into this public role means that the people who adore her feel more freedom approaching her to express their admiration, which can feel stifling at times

Nadia tends to deflect the enthusiastic praise by talking you up as her famed, esteemed, talented partner, often whispering a half-felt apology as you have to share the sudden attention with her

Hates it when her family hears and repeats tales about her

One time, Navra approached her with a rumor about the Countess's incredible physical prowess to convince her to dance together, and Nadia almost banished her from Vesuvia in response

Muriel

He hates it as much as he expected to, but right next to it is a sweetness he didn't expect at all

It's not the first time he's had a reputation. It's not the first time he's overhead his name casually mentioned in stranger's conversations, or seen people's eyes light up with recognition as he walks by in the streets. Last time, though, it was as "The Scourge"

Now it's with his own name

Now, though he still gets uncomfortable comments on his size and strength, there's an undertone of safety and trusting appreciation instead of fear and morbid awe. They think he's a hero

As sweet as it is, though, he still prefers not to be noticed and he'd much rather be able to walk through the crowd like a perfectly unremarkable, undetectable presence

Which he tries to do anyways. He continues to ignore most of the strangers who come up to him (unless they're kids. those he has more a of a tolerance for, even if he's completely exhausted after)

All in all, he minds it less than he expected. Now if you would kindly go ahead with that disguising-spell-glamor thing that you do, he'd love to hide behind you on your next trip to the market

Portia

It's not that she's uncomfortable as much as she's surprised

You're telling her that she's famous? Well-known? And not in the context of "Julian Devorak's little sister" or "the Countess Nadia's handmaiden"? She's famous as "Just Portia"? Inconceivable!

If she sits down with you and really processes it verbally for a couple hours (which is a common occurrence in general), it does technically make sense

Like, she did play an instrumental role in taking down what could only amount to as an eldritch god-like being, that being her Aunt, and successfully avoid the collapse of the realms

But it still doesn't compute. She's Portia. She works at the Palace and tends to her garden and lovingly punches her brother. Oh, and proudly flaunts you as her partner, but that goes without saying

It's genuinely the only thing you've ever seen make her act socially awkward. It's the one topic she can't make a conversation out of

And it's insanely endearing. As soon as she overhears a tale of her exploits, she's flushing bright red, stammering, and making wide-eyed eye contact with you like a confused cat

So, so, so delightfully easy to tease about it

Lucio

Oh, he's loving it

He's already been pretty well-known for a large chunk of his life. Before he was "the Arcana's last hope!" (his words, not yours) he was the Count of Vesuvia, and before that he was Spada's mentee

That doesn't change the visible thrill he feels every time he's reminded that he's famous, or the addictive boost to his ego

Does he feed into it every chance he gets? Absolutely. He has blown his personal budget multiple times now, covering the tab of everyone in the local pub when he hears his name praised

This is why you keep your finances separate

What does catch up to him, after a bit, is how different the stories about him now are from the stories about him before

He used to hear words like "bloodthirsty", or "ostentatious", or "merciless" - all of which he didn't mind being described as!

But now he hears words like "generous", or "brave", or "kind", and it makes him want to hear those words about him from people who know him personally and not just strangers who've heard his deeds

He wants to hear it from you. And from the party you two partnered up with yesterday. Maybe even from Morga, one day

[spahhzy]

When little Jaune Arc got to the playground, he honestly thought it would be the same old playing by yourself thing. Most of the other kids were in the process of being trained by their families in the way of being a huntsman.

Jaune sighed. He, too, wanted to be a huntsman... but for some reason, his family never wanted to train him. No matter how many times he asked or begged, it was still a resounding 'No' from both mom and dad.

Jaune feet kicked up some dirt as he made his way towards the swing set, but to his surprise, instead of it being empty, their was actually someone sitting in the swing next to him.

Timidly, Jaune got into the swing next to the stranger, feeling a bit uncomfortable as the stranger face was covered with a hood, but Jaune did his best not to pay attention to the stranger but them sitting and NOT doing anything wS beginning to scare him.

???: Don't be afraid friend.

Lil Jaune's blue eyes widened as he heard the stranger speak, how did he know!?

???: I promise you I mean you no harm, I'm just here to think is all.

Jaune: o-okay...

???: Why are you here all alone?

Jaune: ...uhm cause I-I don't have any friends.

???: Really, well, that makes two of us...I too don't have any friends....well, that would be a lie...I had one good friend but I haven't seen him in a long time.

Jaune: Wow... I'm sorry, I'm sure you guys were very good friends.

???: You betcha, you could say we were inseparable!

Jaune: Wow... I wish I had a friend like that... Everyone is just off being cool heroes and stuff...

???: You want to be a hero?

Jaune: Oh boy, do I, that's like my dream!

???: What does a hero usually do?

Jaune: Hero's....uh they help those I need, like in the stories and fairytales.

???: So you want to help people?

Jaune: Mmhm! I wanna help everyone!

???: Everyone, you say, hmm? You know what, you're going to be someone hero one day, I can already see it.

Jaune: Really, sir, you mean it?

???: Mmhm! And you know what, if I may, could you help me out? Think of it as part of your hero training.

Jaune: But I'm not a hero...

???: Not with that attitude you won't be. Think of this little request as the stepping stones of your training!

Little Jaune pondered for a moment but reluctantly nodded if he could begin to start being a hero in training then he would help the stranger.

The stranger reached into his cloak before pulling out...

Jaune looked on in awe...their in the strangers hands was a small blue sleeping... kitten?

???: Can you watch after this little fella here? They have been through a-lot...

Jaune paled...he couldn't bring home a cat, his mom and dad would be upset!

???: I know what you're thinking, and don't worry, only you and some other folks can see them.

Jaune: Really...

???: Oh, most definitely! Your mom, dad, and sisters will see nothing.

Now Jaune was beginning to have doubts...a invisible cat?

Jaune: Wait...who are the other people who can see them?

???: Bad bad people, they tried to hurt the poor fella. I don't have names, but I can tell you one will have a metal arm with red eyes, another will be snow witch with a scar on eye, another will have gold eyes and cat ears just like our friend here and another one will have silver eyes and a large scary stick...

Jaune just gulped. These people seemed like real villains. Why would they want to hurt this poor cat!

???: lastly, watch out for the silent double colored terror... she will be the most persistent.

Jaune just nodded as the stranger gently handed him the blue kitten.

???: You're gonna be a great hero, Jaune. I can already see it in you.

Jaune: Y-you think so?

???: Oh yes, I already see a little bit of my friend in you, and he was my greatest hero.

Jaune: Wow!

???: Yep, but it's time for me to go now, little hero. Remember, take very good care of our little friend here, and when the time is right, I will meet you again in a land where fantasy comes to life!

Jaune: O-okay, uhm...

???: J.C.

Jaune: J.C?

???: mmhm!

Mama Arc: Jaune, honey, come on its time to go!

Jaune: coming mom...uhm thanks J.C for...giving me a chance to become a hero.

Jaune then carried the kitten close to his chest as he turned his back to the stranger, who waved at him, Jaune turned and waved back before finally returning to his mom as they both left the park, and Jaune found it weird but he thought he saw bright blue eyes coming from the stranger...ah well must have been a trick of the light.

The stranger watched as Jaune and his mother left the park before looking at his hand that began to fade away.

???: Yes, you will become the hero, Jaune...my hero!

A gust of wind blew around him as his hood fell and revealed a mess of blonde hair and a slightly old face marred with a disturbing chesire grin and bright blue eyes.

CCJaune: My hero forever!

[silent-sanctum]

Character Dynamics: Kakyoin & Polnareff

In a previous post, I mentioned that one of the personal gripes I had with Stardust Crusaders was the missed opportunity to expand the main cast's character further, either individually or through interaction with one another.

And what canon reference will I base all my yapping on? Look no further than the episode where the Crusaders are fighting "High Priestess"- The submarine scene right before they go swimming and get eaten.

You know that scene where Polnareff does a series of big vague arm movements and Kakyoin somehow knows what that means, and then they ensue the "Serious Bro Code Handshake" no one knows about but them.

And some quick special mentions of them fighting as a unit during that scene where Kakyoin and Polnareff fight against the man with two right hands, or Enyaba the Hag's son to put it simply, and that time where they had to get rid of The Lovers from Joseph's head.

In this post, I'll talk about a dynamic that's not too appreciated and should've been more consistent (though that's what I think from what I've seen online) is that between Noriaki Kakyoin and Jean Pierre Polnareff.

Disclaimer: I'll talk about them in a platonic way (because we can appreciate two dudes being great buddies without automatically making them suck each other's lip and cock), but if you think otherwise, then kudos! You do you.

These 2 are, what I feel, would've been a duo with almost a similar dynamic to the one we see with Josuke and Okuyasu, being the difference is that unlike the 2 latter duo consisting of the typical "Dumb-and-Dumber" dynamic, KakPol is more "Nerd-Himbo".

So what makes this duo work exactly? Why am I compelled to write this post?

Well, to simply put, I love an interaction between a typically introverted person and an extroverted person. It's fun to watch Person X dragging Person Y into shenanigans, the latter being too not-cool with it at first, only for said person to go "Fuck it, we ball."

That's why I like writing them as this duo in my stories (namely in Only You, Playing Cupid, and Volleyball).

Kakyoin is not a social person. We know that from his quick backstory. However, despite his lack of social connection, he's polite with the way he interacts with others. He's also an amalgamation of a nerd and a geek: A person filled with ideas and thoughts, capable of providing reasonable logical strategies that benefit the group, and who also has interests in fun stuff like sumo wrestling and video games.

On the other hand, Polnareff will be Polnareff. He's a Frenchman who wears his emotions on his sleeve. He's a little out there with the folks, will get all buddy-buddy with strangers, will flirt with the ladies, and is generally a loud-and-proud kind of dude. But beneath all that social energy, he's also righteous in his own way, wanting to live up to what he deems the right thing to do.

If you put them together, then you get a dynamic that would spill this type of dialogue:

"Aren't you gonna eat your sausages?" "No." "Why?" "Sausage is made with sodium glutamate and sodium nitrate, which are carcinogens." "… So why don't you eat them?" "… Why would you eat carcinogens on purpose?" "Then I'll take them." "But-" "…" "Fine."

The lines above are from a movie named "Midnight Runners". You can swap the main duo of the film with KakPol and there wouldn't be many differences. Both of them behave and speak the way Kakyoin and Polnareff do personality-wise.

Kakyoin is the brain of the two, and Polnareff is the muscle. While Kak's the one offering out things to do, Pol makes sure he lives up to that by making him do said things with him. Polnareff is the type of guy who likes to venture out and have fun, while Kakyoin is someone who wants to do said fun things but feels awkward initiating them, often finding it more comfortable envisioning it rather than actually doing it.

They'd be the type where Pol, the man from France itself, would play bachelor, attempt to swoon some girls, and drag Kakyoin to his antics. He'd share some cheesy Casanova techniques with the poor boy, Kak eventually warms up to the idea having nothing better to do and listens, they attempt trying them out, only to eventually fail at the end of the day. Cue Kak who suggests they play video games instead to which Pol agrees to it.

Pol: And no Jotaro, you're not joining. You attract ladies just by breathing. You don't count.

Jotaro: middle finger

If there's an exam and the question is "List the 3 sources of investigation", Kakyoin would answer "Examine victim, evidence, and crime scene" (emphasizes Logic), while Polnareff would answer "Passion, tenacity, and a big heart" (emphasizes Values). And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe they also share some squabble and banter from time to time.

That's why there's a difference in dynamics with "Polnareff and Kakyoin" compared to "Polnareff and Jotaro".

Jotaro is more hands-on and nonchalant about the way he lives his life. He lets events play out and has no problem joining in and exploring as he goes along the way.

Kakyoin is more hesitant and wants to think about it more, pondering whether or not said activity is worth it or not. Pol and Joot can hang out and smoke all they want almost immediately, but Pol must convince Kak before doing anything outside Cherry Boy's comfort zone.

There's that satisfaction in having Kakyoin feel less alone and be brought of his shell thanks to Polnareff's interventions. He gets to share his more geeky side with someone who's like "Sounds cool!"

It also works in the battlefield as well. As I mentioned, Kakyoin is the strategist. He comes up with the ideas- they can be half-baked or fool-proofed, either way, the second a plan is suggested, Polnareff will agree to it and execute any of them if it sounds good enough.

I don't know how to end this. It's rather abrupt, but yeah! In my opinion, Kakyoin and Polnareff are just a couple of bros who needed more screen time as a duo.

Let me know if yall want more stuff like this!

[forestkniight]

I'll Be Seeing You

✯ Chapter 1 ✯ Chapter 2 ✯

Thank you guys so much for your patience! With college and rehearsals in the way, I don't have much free time, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Pairing: Fizzarolli x Reader

Warning: Cursing, Violence, Attempted Kidnapping

Word Count: 3.7K

I’ve heard of affairs

That are strictly platonic

But diamonds are a girl’s best friend

You walk around the stage, entirely in the music, in this character you’re portraying. The audience hangs onto every word you sing, which surprised you when you first started working here. You hadn’t expected so many sinners to want to listen to something that wasn’t about sex or violence. Considering the number of people who often listen to the radio, you should have known. 

And I think affairs

That you must keep liaisonic

Are better bets

If little pets get big baguettes

You look at the audience and notice a few familiar faces and some new ones. You wink at an older regular who only came to hear you sing because it reminds him of when he was alive on Earth. You continue to look out in the audience as you start heading down the stairs towards everyone. Your eyes land on someone who the character you're playing would chase. He looks rich enough. 

You slowly strut over as you continue singing. You see his eyes, all four of them widen when he notices you coming directly towards him—poor thing. You look at his table and notice the empty seat across from him. Strange. 

You finally reach him, slide a finger under his face, and lift it to look at you. You feel him swallow before you quickly drop your hand and spin to your left, moving to stand behind his chair. You grab the chair with your right hand while the left is outstretched. 

I don’t mean rhinestone

But diamonds are a girl’s best

You spin to your left against the chair, so you end up falling in the gentleman’s lap, sitting sideways. 

Best friend

While you sing the last two words, you quickly tap two fingers against your lips before lightly tapping your fingers once on the stranger’s cheeks. You notice a slight blush on his face as you stand and return to the stage. You would typically kiss your target’s cheek, but this man looks red-faced enough with your attention on him. 

“So good to see all of you lovely folks here tonight,” you say breathlessly in the microphone. 

The crowd cheers, and you smirk. Being up on stage was healing. You weren’t that little child stuck in the rafters anymore. You commanded attention now. 

“While I would love to stay out here performing for you all night,” you hear sounds of disapproval before you can even finish. 

“Now, now, you can come down and see me any time, but tonight, we have a set of talented musicians ready to get you out of your seat and onto the dance floor instead. But I can’t leave you all without one more song,” you giggle as your back faces the audience. 

You slowly turn around with your eyes closed. The warmth of the spotlight touches your skin, and you smile brightly as you bring the microphone to your lips. 

Prim and proper, the girl who’s never been kissed

You open your eyes and turn so your side profile faces the audience, putting on a show. You hear a couple of whistles as you sing. 

Well, I’m tired of being pure and not chased

You turn back to face the audience and drag your hand from your thigh to your stomach, between your chest, and up your neck until your hand flourishes. You knew it was slightly suggestive, but you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t accept part of the reason you were hired. Even if you didn’t believe it some days, you were easy on the eyes, making audiences especially susceptible to your performances. 

You continue singing the song, mainly focusing on everyone sitting closest to the stage. By winking at them, you give special attention to those placing money on the stage. Some respond shyly, while others, your least favorite, get this nasty look in their eyes as they smirk at you. A similar feeling to one you’ve felt before. A feeling that makes you feel small. You shake your head as you head down the stairs of the stage once more. 

I wanna sing songs like the guy who cries

I wanna be horrid, I wanna drink booze

As you sing that line, you notice one of the bouncers on break in the audience and smirk. You take a drink from the beer in front of them before giving them a wink, to which they laugh and shake their head. 

You turn away to continue giving everything into your final song for the night. You turn around and notice the stranger from earlier, and you decide he will be the last person you tease for the night. 

And whatever I’ve got, I am eager to lose-

You didn’t even reach his table before you felt your heart drop. Across from him was a face you hadn’t seen in years. Blitzo. Blitz. His confused eyes stare up at you. He doesn’t recognize you. You quickly turn back to the stranger to try to make the sudden stop in singing make sense. 

“Sorry, pretty boy. I didn’t know you were a taken man,” you force a giggle as you quickly make your way back up the stage. 

You turn to the pianist.

“Sorry, sweets. Let’s take it where I left off,” you smile sweetly, and the pianist returns the smile and nods. 

I wanna be evil, little evil me

Just as mean and evil as I can be

The room erupts in a cacophony of cheers as you take your bow. You gesture over at your pianist, who also bows to the room. You turn back, and you smile as you take another bow. You look out to the audience as they beam up at you. You dare another glance at Blitz, except he isn’t looking up at you directly. He’s looking at something lower. You raise your eyebrows before looking down, and you see it. Your locket must have slipped out like it typically did during performances, except you never really had to worry about it…until now. 

He looks back at you with an undistinguishable expression, and you try to look away while keeping a smile on your face. You cannot freak out now. You just have to get off the stage, and then you can go home. 

“Thank you, thank you! Now, please help me welcome our next performer,” you yell out as you take a final bow before calmly walking towards the opening curtains. You smile at the next performer before the curtain closes, leaving you again in darkness. 

There is absolutely no way. You begin walking back towards your dressing room and think about what you saw. He looks different. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, that’s for sure. Neither were you. You noticed that he had burn marks on his face, but it was still his face. It’s hard to forget the face of one of your best friends, even if it does look slightly different. 

You sigh as you change out of your outfit and into comfier clothing as you take off your makeup. If you are lucky, he didn’t even recognize you. The look he gave you was probably because his date told him that you chose him as your target of some very minimal flirting. While looking directly at the locket around your neck. But also, the spotlight is extremely bright, so maybe you imagined it all. Yeah, that was it. There was no need to panic. Everything would be okay. You smile at yourself in the mirror to convince yourself of that. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Um, hello,” you call out as you turn to face the door. 

You were never typically bothered after a performance. 

“Are you decent? Can I come in?” 

Stage manager.

“Uhh, are you by yourself,” you ask hesitantly. 

“Yes?” 

You roll your eyes at your behavior. You’re being so paranoid.

“Sure, come in,” you say as you turn back to face your mirror. 

The stage manager walks into your room before closing the door. 

“Good job out there tonight.”

You shoot her a smile through the mirror’s reflection.

“Thanks, kid.”

“So…weird that you asked if I was alone. Were you expecting guests in the audience tonight,” the stage manager asks while looking down at the clipboard in her hands.

You feel your heart drop. You are hoping this conversation wasn’t leading where you thought it was. 

“No.”

The stage manager looks surprised.

“Oh! That guy you sat on was asking to see you. His name is,” the stage manager looks down at her clipboard again. “Stolas.”

You drop your makeup wipe.

“As in the prince?”

What in the hell is Blitz doing with a prince? How could you not recognize him? To be entirely fair to yourself, it could be pretty dark towards the back of the club…is what you’re telling yourself. 

“I guess? He was insistent that he needed to see you,” the stage manager says while leaning towards the door, listening to the music outside.

“Was he with anyone?” 

“No, ma’am,” she shifts as she gets antsy to return to her post, “plus, if he is a prince, as you said, and he’s interested, you’ll get your wish of getting with someone rich.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“You know I just sing ‘Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend,’ right? I don’t apply it to my real life. I don’t value wealth over meaningful relationships,” you explain.

You see the stage manager’s cheeks turn red. 

“I’m sorry,” she starts, but you wave her off. 

“Send him in,” you sigh as you work on fixing your appearance again.

So much for being comfy; maybe the finger kiss was too much. You hear the stage manager sigh and make eye contact with her through the mirror, raising your eyebrows. 

“Look, between you and me, there was someone else with him, but he told Stolas to say it was just him because you wouldn’t agree to see them if you knew he was there,” she exclaims. 

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You didn’t think you could do this tonight, especially since today seemed to have more blasts from the past than usual. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter.

You become hyper-aware of your breathing and raise your hand to your chest. You can not do this tonight. You quickly turn towards the stage manager, who looks concerned.

“Look, kid, Emmie? That’s your name, right,” you ask as you turn to face her. 

She seems shocked that you know her name, and she nods. 

 “I need your help, Emmie. I need you to cause a distraction and lead them away so I can slip out of the back doors. Please, I just feel a little under the weather, and I don’t feel like I’m in a good place to talk to people tonight,” you beg as you feel tears start to pool. 

You are trying so hard not to cry in front of this poor girl, but you will if it means she feels bad for you. Luckily for you, that wouldn’t be necessary. 

“Of course, ma’am. I have the phone number you gave us for emergencies, and the moment I manage to lead them away, I’ll text you. Do you have any recommendations for getting them out of the backstage area?” she asks.

You think. You must be clever because Blitz has already experienced your disappearing act once. 

“Tell them I typically go out to watch the show by the bar, and they should wait for me there. Tell them that drinks are on me,” you whisper, unsure of yourself. 

She nods, and she smiles sympathetically. 

“Good luck,” she says as she walks out. 

Now, all you had to do was wait. Would they buy it? More importantly, would Blitz buy it? You wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly knocked on your dressing room door. 

What would you even say? Sorry for running? You weren’t. If you would have stayed, you would have been stuck there for the rest of your life. But on the other hand, you would have had your friends. You look down at your locket and open it to look at your young friends before closing it again. You look at yourself in the mirror. No. You wouldn’t have had them. They would have moved on without you. 

You notice that you must have still had some mascara on since there was a barely visible trail going down your cheeks from the few tears that escaped. You go to grab tissues to wipe them off when you get a text from Emmie.

Maybe: Emmie

EMERGENCY! YOU NEED TO LEAVE NOW!

ONLY HAVE MINUTE!

EMMIE BTW!

You stare at your phone in horror, decide not to question her, grab your bag, and immediately take off. You exit your dressing room and beeline to the backdoor exit. You see Emmie standing by, holding the door open. What a saint. You speed walk, and she looks slightly panicked as you reach her.

“No time to explain, just go,” she rushes out.

You didn’t have to be told twice. You nod, and you exit the club. You hear her close the door behind you and take in your surroundings. You are currently in an alleyway, which is slightly terrifying. You turn your head to the right and see one of the bouncers smoking. He watches you, giving you a nod, which you return. You begin walking to your left to get to the front of the building. The line to get in has gone down, but some people are outside. Some of them had too much to drink. 

You begin walking back to your apartment. You should have brought your car tonight. The streets are lit up, but you feel you're being followed. You glance across the street to the reflection in the windows and see someone a couple of feet behind you. Not the prince or Blitz. You feel chills run down your entire body. This couldn’t happen again.

“How did this even happen,” Fizz whispers as he hugs you, trying to calm you down while Blitzo tries his hardest to clean your wounds.

It was late at night, and none of you should have been up. You would get a good yelling at if you were caught being up. 

“I- I- They were following me for a while, and they pushed me when I was in their way,” you cry as you try to stop the body-wracking sobs.  

“Why would you go out by yourself in the first place,” Fizz hugs you tighter as you cringe away from Blitzo’s hands.

“You guys left without me. You said we would go get pizza together after the show.”

You look up at Fizz and Blitzo, who share a look. 

“Papa said you were feeling sick,” Blitzo whispers. 

They both look down at you as you start crying harder—such big emotions for your tiny body. Blitzo moves to put bandages on your cuts. It wasn’t even the fact that you were left behind. It was the day as well. 

“I finally,” you hiccup. “I finally reached ten years like you two, and it’s no fun,” you whisper as you feel yourself calming down again. 

Fizz and Blitzo look at each other again.

“Next time, you won’t be alone, okay,” Blitzo assures you as he takes your hand. 

“We’re sorry,” Fizz says, moving his hands over your eyes. “We still got you something.”

Your hear movement, and your tail moves excitedly, causing Fizz to giggle. You feel someone’s presence before you, and Fizz moves his hands from your eyes. 

“Happy Birthday,” Fizz and Blitzo silently yell. 

In front of you is a pizza in the rough shape of a heart. The pepperonis spell out ‘Happy Brithda.’ You giggle as you notice the misspelling. 

“Blitzo was in charge of the words. I chose the shape,” FIzz explains with a slight blush on his face. 

You take the pizza box from Blitzo before closing it and setting it to the side. Blitzo’s smile drops, and Fizz looks sad. 

“Didn’t you like it,” Blitzo mumbles. 

“Of course, silly. I just needed to put the box down to do this,” you say as you throw yourself at both boys, wrapping your arms around them. You all giggle as you nearly make them fall backward. 

“Alright, alright, what’s your birthday wish,” Blitzo asks excitedly while pushing you back. 

“I can’t say it out loud, or it won’t come true. I heard a sinner say that,” you exclaim as you mime a zipper over your mouth.

“It’s not the same rule for us,” Blitzo argues.  

“How do you know that Blitzo?” Fizz asks.

“Because I know things.”

You and Fizz share a look before looking back at Blitzo, who was waiting expectantly.

“Fine, Blitzo. I wish we’d be friends forever,” you said while pointing your tongue at him. 

“Boring. I would wish for my own tent so I don’t have to share anymore.”

“Blitzo, that’s mean. I think your wish is good,” Fizz beams at you. 

“I think so too,” you whisper as you all continue talking the night away.

Maybe the sinner was right. It was bad luck to say your wishes out loud. You start walking a bit faster when you hear the steps getting closer. You are so close to your apartment, but you know you can’t exactly run towards it for safety reasons. Maybe you are being paranoid, and this stranger is just walking in the same direction that you are. You remember that a coffee shop is open 24/7 across the street from your apartment, and you decide that maybe waiting there would be the wiser option. 

You cross the street since the coffee shop is on the other side and hear the same steps follow. So much for walking in the same direction. You had to guarantee your safety one way or another. You decide to fake a phone call with someone meeting you. 

“Oh,” you exclaim loudly as you continue walking as if you got a call you weren’t expecting. 

“Hey! I’m almost at the coffee shop. Are you there already?” you beam into your phone.

You realize how fucked you would be if you got a real call. 

“Perfect! I’ll be there in a few, love,” you say as you pretend to hang up. 

You strain your ears to hear the footsteps, and you nearly take off in a sprint when you hear them closer than before. Okay, a phone call was a bad idea. You prepare yourself to run when you feel someone roughly grab your hand, jerking you backward into a chest.

“I think you’re going to be late for your little date,” the stranger growls into your ear.

You feel fear creeping up and paralyzing you to the spot. This was definitely a lot worse than getting pushed to the floor by a couple of assholes. 

“Aww, cat got your tongue? It didn’t seem that way back in the club,” he hisses at you.

You raise your eyebrow as you look back at him, and you immediately recognize him as the guy who tipped you and looked at you like a piece of meat when you winked at him. Well, crap. 

“Look, man, I don’t want any trouble,” you plead as he chuckles.

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

You need to find a way to escape. You try to think, but your brain goes empty. This day has been a fucking nightmare. You suddenly feel his filthy hand over your mouth, and he starts dragging you towards a darkened alley. Tears begin to prick your eyes, and you try to yell. 

“Shut the fuck up, you bitch. No one is going to save you,” he growls as he digs his nails into your skin. 

Your muffled sound of pain is not loud enough for anyone to hear. No one is going to save you. You have to save yourself. With all the strength you can muster, you elbow him in the guts, which causes him to loosen his grip on you. You immediately push out of his arms and run across the street. You debate calling out for help, but this is Hell. You are risking putting yourself in more danger if you scream for help. At this point, the club might be the safest place for you. 

You continue running, and you pass your apartment building. You desperately want to run in but know it won’t end well. You are halfway to the club when the stranger tosses himself at you, causing you to fall forward.

“What the fuck,” you yell as you feel your knees scrape roughly on the sidewalk. 

This was familiar. The stranger lands next to you, so you roll away from him before trying to stand. However, he is quick on his feet this time and slams your body into the wall next to you. Your head hits the wall, and your vision blurs. You feel a searing pain in your side as you realize he must have had a knife on him. 

“Mother fucker,” you cry out as you try to stand, but you’re so disoriented. 

You slip down the wall as your tears start falling. You want to run. You want to go home. You feel yourself growing weaker. You almost don’t notice the lack of action coming from your attacker. Maybe he was trying to catch his breath. You should use this moment to run. You try to stand weakly from your spot on the floor when you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. 

“Hold on, darling. You’re badly hurt. It’s okay, you’re safe, but I wouldn’t recommend standing,” you hear from your side. You turn to look at who is beside you, only to be met with Prince Stolas. You watch him look away at something behind you, and his eyes hold anger. You see his mouth moving, but everything is spinning. 

“Prince Stolas,” you weakly beg. “I just want to go home. I’m so tired.”

He looks down at you, and his gaze softens. He brings you closer as he strokes your hair. 

“It’s alright, just stay awake for me,” he whispers. 

“I can’t,” you cry as your eyes get heavier. 

You start seeing black spots in the corner of your eyesight. You’re definitely going to pass out. The last thing you feel before your vision becomes dark is someone grabbing your hand tightly.

Songs mentioned: Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend, sung by Marilyn Monroe, and I Want To Be Evil, sung by Eartha Kitt.

See you all in the next chapter (which may or may not already be written)!

[thatmaxcontent]

East Blue Polycule, yeah? Let me headcanon-dump onto you, stranger who didn't ask for it!

They overall love one another equally (in their own unique ways), but they do have favorites (keep it a secret though 🤭🤫🫡).

Luffy doesn't favor anyone in particular, but he has the most fun with Usopp and the most 'emotional' (big quotes on that) times with Zoro.

Speaking of the Lettuce Demon, his favorite is obviously Luffy, I need not elaborate on this point. He was the first and he will be the last.

Sanji's favorites are Nami and Usopp, Nami in the more silly yet beloving sense. She'll often tease him for being such a simpy simp, but will happily give him some love every now and then. Usopp is constantly around, not just Sanji but the whole crew, and through that Nicotine Kicker kind of just got used to him being THE first one he'd go to (aside captainly stuff and such). They behave more like married folks who've been together for around 10 years most of the time, but this doesn't take away from Sanji's simpyness. Sanji simps for all his partners, but he only visibly does it with Nami and semi-visibly with Usopp. The other two are far more casual.

Nami's favorite is Vivi (surprise! I got this idea from another post, I don't remember the poster, but aaaugh I love it!!!), but out of the crew it's Usopp. Vivi and Nami are one-to-one, the blue gurl isn't dating anyone else. They keep in contact by constantly sending each other letters and SNÄILIN'!!! Usopp is Nami's crew-favorite because... well... they're besties. They bond over so much, and they're the most open in the relationship with one another (close second being Luffy and Zoro tied with Sanji and Usopp, followed by Luffy and Nami, ect ect).

Usopp's favorites are Nami (because of stated bonding) and Sanji (because of their incredible connection), but Luffy deserves an honorable mention as Usopp spends a lot of time and has a blast with him!! Sometimes they also take two-on-two time, rarely it can turn into a little bit of a quiet session, but usually they rave about future adventures and plans. Sometimes Luffy makes Usopp come up with a 'bedtime story', but it's just an excuse to see the sniper get so passionate and think about another adventure!

(This is also from that other poster, aaaaa thank you for infecting my brain with this incredible rot) Aside Vivi, Kaya is dating both Nami and Usopp! They rarely manage to talk, but when they do their sessions are long and if someone disturbs them it's game over for them!

Now onto the funsy headcanons!

Nami and Usopp browse magazines together on a daily basis (sometimes Robin joins them as the cool mother of the group), and they plan some cool and absolutely ✨️SLAY✨️ outfits none of them can ever wear.

Zoro and Sanji have a little bit of a play-competition going on constantly. They get genuinely pissed off by the other often times, but sometimes they make something a competition as an excuse to angrily make out against the kitchen wall (they definitely 'sword'fight about who tops)

Luffy doesn't completely process the relationship as a, well, romantic relationship. He's more in it for the good times, and because he loves the peeps! He's overall fine with more strictly romantically-viewed things, but sometimes he just doesn't want to. One second he will say "Zoro, crush me with your arms", the next he sees Franky and Robin (the cool parents) kissing and he goes "BLEUGH I'm going to need a shovel to transport this bullshit out of my mouth BLEHHHHHH"

Usopp is the most insecure and unstable in the relationship. He's very people-pleasery, while also trying to keep up a persona. If he ever emotionally talks it's usually to Nami, sometimes to Sanji within the relationship, but outside of it he confides in Franky (the awesome dadster) and Jinbe (the ultimately best grandpops). He tries to get better, but fails to realise how. He has fun with everyone, seeks to be around them at all times, but sometimes he can't help but disappear. If you don't see him at breakfast give him until lunch, at that point it's suitable to check-in. Who knows what the thoughts in his head have made him do.

Sanji has a dedicated notebook/ramblebook about each one of the peeps. Sometimes when he can't sleep, or someone just did something he found notable, he whips out a book and starts going "September 1st, 1989, dear diary-" oh shit, wrong fandom.

Zoro is the one that has to be dragged into things the most, he does go willingly as well but his solitude is important to him. This being said he usually doesn't mind Luffy or Usopp chilling around if he's laying back, sometimes they can ramble and do their own thing as well. A lot of the time it's just sitting and silently contemplating on things, with Usopp at least. If Luffy doesn't have stimulation for five seconds he'll gomu-gomu the ship.

Nami absolutely loves physical contact, but sometimes feels bad that she can't see her girlfriends and feel them around. In these cases she'll request some physical space until things have settled, but sometimes that can make her even more clingy. She usually seeks out Usopp, but will cling onto someone else if he isn't to be seen.

Luffy found a new appreciation for various relationship through the polycule. This also helped him think more healthily about his past, those who are gone and those who are alive. He's managed to settle some feelings, but a lot of experiences still hinder his head. He doesn't think about those things that much, and besides if he feels down he will quite literally start deflating. A quick munch of food, mention of stories or a good song will always cheer him right up.

Usopp actively leaves gifts for everyone around the ship (to the ones outside the relationship as well, but extra for the peeps). They're handmade, and they range from silly notes/drawings with cheesy jokes to actual equipment/tools and sometimes even clothing and jewelry.

I COULD GO ON FOR SO LONG, BUT IF YOU READ THIS FAR THANK YOU FOR BEING AN ENJOYER!!!! And drink some water, you're dehydrated you fucking amazing dewdrop angel baby

HAVE A GOOD TIMEZONE!!!

[itsbubbleteataro]

Gun Powder and sparks pt 3

Boothill x reader warnings;

The door to your shop was practically blown open causing you to wince from the noise. You looked up from your work bench, pulling your goggles back onto the top of your head.

"Bloody hell fires what!" You screamed, tools still in hand and project still on your work bench. You were just finishing up with a circuit board that was quite critical in something you were building.

"Well shoot me and call me a stranger, is that anyway to greet an old pal?" Smirked a certain cyborg cowboy.

"My word Hilly, you gotta stop with the door bustin and come in oh I don't know, when my shop ain't closed." You all but huffed out.

"Hilly?" Boothill raised an eyebrow. "So you can call me a nickname but I can't come into your shop after hours?" he smirked, showing off his sharp smile.

"Well you ain't exactly a dead cowboy Hilly, so I ain't calling you boothill." You said back, quite deadpan. "And yeah, it ain't exactly the safest to come knockin when my shop is closed, could be tinkering with somethin explosive and a scare like that could have us both blown sky high."

"So you call me Hilly cuz I ain't dead?" He smirked as you nodded. He walked in the shop after closing the door behind him, pulling up a chair you had started storing near the back for when he came in with who knows what in needs of repair.

Boothill placed his hat on your work table, his eyes looking over you as you turned back to work, pulling the goggles back over your eyes and ignoring the man who was basically breaking down your neck.

"So you good with handling, well, the finer things?" He asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, I mean it would take a while because I have a lot of projects on deck for payin folks, so it would take a while" You responded, going right back to work, as if the cowboy was never there.

"You better not be insuating I can't pay you shirt bag" Snapped Boothill, getting quite defensive as he crossed his arms.

"I'm not Hilly, I just got work to finish up first. What you come in for anyhow? I have a hunch you ain't in here to watch me work and chat my ear off"

"Always the straight shooter" Boothill sighed. "I well," He was glad you were paying him no mind, focusing hard on whatever you were working on instead. "Since I well, became this, I ain't have the dexterity that I used. I miss doin some of the things, like playing guitar." He was looking away, trying to hide his sadness from a person who wasn't even looking. He felt like a fool for doing so, yet he felt like he had too. "I was thinkin cuz every time I find you here, you're always hunched over something delicate lookin. Figured you may know someone or could be that someone."

You sighed, mauling things over in your mind. You do want to help this strange cowboy, he makes you feel well, alive when he comes in and asks for your help and no one else, to know the amount of trust he has in you to even do the most basic of repairs. You moved the project for a client over on your table, stinking your hand out as you took your goggles off. "Let me see your hand Hilly, just one for now, I'm assuming its mirrored, so I just wanna get a good look at em."

Boothill extended his hand, placing it in yours. He looked away, unsure if you were just running warm, or if his fans decided to stop working at that very moment. You moved his hand to your table, shining the light over it and opening up what you could to get a better look. With you having to hold his hand at strange angles to get what panels you could at the time open, he had scooted closer in his chair.

You were so close to him, touching his hand, investigating it. He was sure he had run out of coolant or his fans just stopped working with how hot his face felt. Boothill was grateful you were so absorbed in your work, that you failed to notice him fanning his face with his hat in his free hand. He could not take his eyes off the way your hands seemed to fit into his, even if you were prying him open to look at the wiring. He felt strange, a good strange, but strange non the less.

"Hm, alright. You said you wanted more dexterity?" You asked, not looking up from your work.

"Yeah, is it possible Y/n?"

"Yeah, its just gonna take a while for me to develop something without having to rebuild or replace your entire hand" You moved back from his hand, letting it go and looking up at him.

"I mean you could replace my hands." He said all to smugly for your liking.

"It would take much longer, I'd have to get the right materials to match what already exists, and take me months to wire everything, would involve you coming in way more than you already do." You stared to explain as Boothill shook his head.

"Naw, I can pay, I can wait. I gotta lay low from the IPC for a while anyways." He took his now free hand and rubbed the back of his neck. Looking up at him with a raised eyebrow, you nodded your head, your mind formulating a plan to work on his new hands.

"Hey! Earth to Y/n" Snapped a smirking Boothill. "Hey, here as thanks and for payment for today, let me take you out for some drinks. My treat."

"You sure Hilly?"

"Yeah I'm sure, you look like you need a good break anyways"

You sighed and got up, grabbing a coat and walking to the door with him, a silent agreement.

Oh boy, would you be in for something more than you agreed too.