#and i have not a single new fishing trip detail

[evan-buck]

the fear i felt when i thought dave bloody coaches was really about to spill the fishing trip details. thank goodness we'll never know.

[elliespuns]

Joel Miller's House

and the little details that melt my heart (make me squirm)

I truly adore Joel's cozy porch. It has the perfect ambiance for him to relax and spend quality time with Sarah on warm summer days or quiet evenings. The presence of the water kettle on the table suggests that his porch is a frequent gathering place. Noticing the pumpkins already arranged, despite the fact that the outbreak occurred on September 26th, I feel like someone might have been a bit too eager for Halloween festivities.

Who would have guessed that Joel has always been ready to rock formal Oxford shoes? Young man Joel in a dark suit, tie, and Oxfords? Fuck, I need to breathe.

I thought I was going to shriek in surprise when my eyes landed on the weathered cowboy hat perched on the wall hook. It was such a striking (sexy) contrast to the construction helmet and simple baseball cap. The mere thought of Joel donning a casual baseball hat makes me go bananas. What do they say again? "Save a horse..."

This photograph of Joel and Sarah sitting upon the table, beside Joel's spot on the couch, has forever graced my heart. This tender image speaks volumes of the pure, affectionate bond they shared. Plus, the humble bowl of peanuts resting nearby suggests that Joel probably liked these simple snacks during movie nights together.

When I realize that Joel's true intentions were to launch his own business, reading up on critical matters like "buying a contract" and "everything you need to know to create a startup", it makes me want to cry. The poor man had been working tirelessly, pouring his heart and soul into every endeavor, driven by a burning desire to one day give Sarah the life she deserved. He was doing everything within his power, leaving no stone unturned, but fate had other plans.

The precious photo of baby Joel and his father sharing a fishing trip together unleashes a flood of emotions for me every time. The faded snapshot, forever frozen in time, clearly held a special place in our man's heart, since he kept it enshrined in a frame, with a candle next to it—a tender tribute to the loving dad he lost.

The man was utterly engrossed in the plans for his new project that he was planning in silence. Now let's talk about the old framed photo on his bedside table showing his parents dancing together. It just makes my day. I'm not even going to comment on the napkins sitting there so innocently.

This framed wedding photo of a young couple sitting on the bookshelf in Joel's study has been living in my mind rent free. While the groom looks nothing like Joel, I am certain that this couple is neither his parents (Joel has other photos of them in the house) nor his brother. The question is; who are these people? What connection could they possibly have to Joel? It seems too intimate, too personal, to have a picture of any random couple in such a private sanctum as his study. Could it be that Joel bleached his hair in his youth? After all, that was a common trend in the 90s. I'm scared to even speak this aloud, folks, but what if there's a possibility this couple could actually be a younger Joel and his wife? But then again, Sarah is blond, and this woman is not! (give me reasons to think I'm mistaken in the comments because I'm going crazy over here).

Joel's ardent love for music was evident throughout his home, with a sprawling collection of CDs adorning every room. However, it was the prominent display of CDs by Axel Diggs that stood out above the rest. Probably Joel's favorite musician.

The sunglasses lying on the table by the front door give me butterflies. Joel in sunglasses? It's a crime nobody has ever given us a single photo of Joel Miller in sunglasses. Oh, and the lottery tickets scattered around? Apparently, there's a gambler lurking within the man I thought I knew so well.

As an added treat, I mustn't leave out these two absolutely precious photos that appear to show Joel's parents back in their youth. What a touching gesture by this man to have kept these on proud display all these years. My heart just swells with affection for him seeing this.

[positivexcellence]

FRĒDA WOMAN: GENEVIEVE PADALECKI

TALK TO US ABOUT YOU.

HOW DO YOU DECIDE ON A PROJECT?

Gosh. I wish it was that easy!  I think to echo what Odette Annable said, “Taking on a new project usually means that I had to work very hard to even “get” the role. The audition process can be grueling with multiple rounds of auditions and each step feels like a victory.”  And that's the truth. I think having the ability to be able to work and play in our industry is pretty extraordinary and I feel incredibly lucky that I have been able to connect with the role bond with the team and find light in the message.

WHAT MADE YOU START TOWWN?

The awful truth is that I am a big waster. I have 3 kids. I used disposable diapers. Bought single-use plastics and easy on-the-go snacks. I did what was convenient and the best for my family.  But I wanted to understand how I could be better for our planet. The resources that were available to me were ones that we doom and gloom or all or nothing. I wanted something that made more sense to me. Where I could have a solution-based platform that was relatable and evolving.

HOW DO YOU SPEND TIME OUTSIDE OF WORK?

Great question. It depends on the day. But it’s either with my family or with myself, but most likely in nature. On a hike or with a book. But definitely recentering and hopefully getting our hands dirty.

WHAT HAS BEEN MOST REWARDING ABOUT BEING A MOTHER?

Knowing that there is an even greater capacity to love that I didn’t know existed.  My heart grew tenfold when I became a mother.  And I had such a deeper and greater respect for my own mother.  She always told me you’ll never know how much I love you until you have a child of your own.  And she was right.  I also love how much I learn from my children. They are so wise and earnest.  I love seeing the world through their eyes.

WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU’VE BEEN LEARNING ABOUT YOURSELF?

I hope that I am always learning. I think when I was younger I  was stuck in a loop of who I thought I was supposed to be. Or how I was supposed to present myself.  Now I enjoy letting my guard down and trying to go more with the flow.  Not sweating the small stuff and trying to be curious every moment.

HOW DO YOU FEEL SUPPORTED FROM THE GROUND UP?

My family. They are my world. And knowing they are safe and sound and feeling centered makes me feel incredibly grounded.

YOUR MANTRA?

I love a quote from my grandfather which is, “You don’t get what you expect you get what you inspect.”  Sometimes I tend to wash over the details and this quote reminds me to pay attention.  That I have to work hard to achieve what I want. It’s not owed to me.

I also always tell my kids that today is a brand new day. And we can start fresh.

TELL US ABOUT A FAVORITE SUMMER TRIP.

I grew up going to a place called Graeagle that was nestled in between mountains in Northern California. As kids, we learned to fish; tying flies, cleaning and cooking our fish, hiking the mountains and finding our way back. These trips encouraged self-reliance. In those summers we tuned out the noise and came together as a family. It was heaven for me. Now I try and recreate that feeling for our kids. This year we are heading on a rafting and fishing trip as a family (with zero cell reception, I cannot wait).

ANY FUN SUMMER PLANS?

Yes! Currently, Jared and I are in Italy.  We have been in Rome for a quick work trip and then we explored (are currently exploring Corsica) and then Sardinia. We are also doing an annual trip with Jared's brother and sis in law. It’s become a bit of a tradition now and it makes me so happy to have this time.  This year we are biking around France. Last year I tumbled ass over a tea kettle in the Dolomites so wish me luck…then Jared and I and the kids head to Idaho to get lost on the river.

TELL US ABOUT A FAVORITE SUMMER TRIP.

I grew up going to a place called Graeagle that was nestled in between mountains in Northern California. As kids, we learned to fish; tying flies, cleaning and cooking our fish, hiking the mountains and finding our way back. These trips encouraged self-reliance. In those summers we tuned out the noise and came together as a family. It was heaven for me. Now I try and recreate that feeling for our kids. This year we are heading on a rafting and fishing trip as a family (with zero cell reception, I cannot wait).

ANY FUN SUMMER PLANS?

Yes! Currently, Jared and I are in Italy.  We have been in Rome for a quick work trip and then we explored (are currently exploring Corsica) and then Sardinia. We are also doing an annual trip with Jared's brother and sis in law. It’s become a bit of a tradition now and it makes me so happy to have this time.  This year we are biking around France. Last year I tumbled ass over a tea kettle in the Dolomites so wish me luck…then Jared and I and the kids head to Idaho to get lost on the river.

THE AUSTIN DIARIES

FAVORITE SHOP: Estilo, Valentines, Maufrais, Hearth and Home, or Alexa James Baby, bygeorge

GO-TO RESTAURANT: Soto, Dai Due, Wu Chow

ALL-TIME BEST BBQ: Terry Blacks

CAFFEINE KICK: I go more for the smoothies and matchas…so Juiceland

SUNDAY ACTIVITY: Gardening, running Lake Austin trail or boating

HIDDEN GEM: I can’t tell you…lol

RAINY DAY DESTINATION: My library

TOURIST ATTRACTION LOCALS LOVE: Probably the bats on Congress Bridge or shopping SOCO

BEST THING ABOUT LIVING THERE: Your neighbors, Austin is an amazing community

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #30:

Roger Miller's Roger and Out

Imagine making something vital out of just about nothing; imagine a seemingly tossed off moment that turns out to be genius.

My 15 year old daughter did just that this weekend: she took the world's cheapest and least effective kite, one that could do nothing but circle about for a moment and then crash, fiddled with it after a moment of thought and observation and then sent that cheap bit of just about nothing into the air as a beautiful sign of support for the people suffering so dreadfully in Palestine. It was awesome.

So let's start the new year by talking about another wonderful piece of just about nothing, Roger Miller's very first record from 1964; (my reissued copy is called Dang Me but the original title is Roger and Out).

You simply can't find another album that's this breezy and light. Let's count the ways:

Miller recorded the album in just two days;

the longest song runs for a grand total of 2 minutes and 17 seconds;

the record's most complex statement of ideas comes in Chug-a-lug; it describes what it's like chugging booze;

and that song was supposedly written in under four minutes;

the album features 11 other silly, tiny and tossed off songs;

the whole thing seems made for Dr. Demento even though that dude was still in grade school at the time;

And it's a total classic, a soaring kite that has no business lighting up the sky, and yet there it is, rising up, up and up after a rough year for just about everyone.

Let's start with Miller's voice. What an instrument! The record opens with a whoop-whoop-whoop that sounds like it's coming from the goldfish Roger's baby sister won at the county fair. But that little swimmer has somehow survived a trip down Miller's gullet; he swallowed it whole when he thought she wasn't looking. But she was looking! She saw Roger Miller gobble her fish up, a fish she'd already named Lester, and so she starts bawling. But fear not little sister, Lester is doing just fine; he swimming about in Miller's gut and now Lester wants to sing her a song.

That baby sister's tears sure dried up fast, didn't they? By the time Miller starts hemming, hawing and harrumphing about getting drunk as a kid she's laughing and clapping, hoping Roger will swallow the rest of her fish.

Every song on Dang Me features a similar act of vocal gymnastics. Miller scats his way through It Takes All Kinds to Make a World; frog swats at his chorus in Lou's Got the Flu and croons with easy joy in Feel of Me.

And then there's his incredibly tight band. There are zero solos and zero flash on the record; instead we've just got solid, chugging glow from start to finish. Personnel details are hard to come by; members of the A-Team - a catchall description for the few dozen people who appear on just about everything recorded in Nashville from Elvis to Ringo and back ago - support Miller but no one is given clear credit. There's a fair amount of piano and occasional backing vocals: all uncredited.

But listen to Squares Make the World Go Round; try to find a single unnecessary, non-shimmering note.

I love sloppy truth in my music. After all I'm settling in for a full year, at least, of Shakey Sundays. But there's something to be said for humble professionalism as well. The razor sharpness of the "heys!" in Squares are the perfect compliments to Miller's Daffy Ducky meets Merle Haggard vocals. Think Neil and Crazy Horse could pull vocals that crisp? Hell no; just listen to their version of Get a Job.

Somebody ought to get them a job, a job outside of the music industry.

And then there's the streak of sheer positivity that runs through all of Roger and Out. A year after Dylan bummed us all permanently out while cursing the Masters of War, Miller sings about WW3 in Private John Q like it's gonna be a hoot. And Got 2 Again is a master class in how to make musical joy. I have no idea to what extent Miller actually made up the first and second verse of this song, but don't you wish you were there with him in the studio, shouting out "thirteen!"?

I've always been fascinated by the idea of lyrics made up on the spot. It's tempting to imagine that Dylan had Miller's example in his head when he made up some of his least comprehensible and, arguably, best poetry in real time three years later in the Big Pink Basement.

I, too, dream about The Door...

But Dylan clearly can't compete with Miller in the childhood cheer category. His version of This Old Man will probably make your kids cry.

But Roger and Out does serve as a successful foundation for some great children's music, however. Just listen to Johnny and June settle in to make joyful mischief Miller style:

My kids loved that stuff. I still do.

Indeed, the tone of Miller's record serves as a foundation for so much that followed. Kristofferson's "if it sounds country man, that's what it is" explanation at the opening of Me and Bobby McGee, Neil Young's hillbilly speechifying on the Hawks section of Hawks and Doves, Yo La Tengo's shambolic funk while discussing nuclear war, Jerry Jeff Walkers entire vibe, everything Stephen Stills is not: it all has roots in Miller's yo-yo wielding, masterful joy in the studio.

Hard core Dollar Bin Dwellers will remember that I figured out who Roger Miller was just a month or two ago via Ringo Starr and childhood memories of Miller's songs and narration in Disney's Robin Hood. Well I'm all stocked up on his records now, and it turns out Miller is a classic Dollar Bin artist: his records fill the bin to the brim and they're all good. So go swallow them whole.

[the-larxist-manifesto]

GameGirl31 ~ Dr. Mario

It's Dr. Mario time. We all know it. We've all played it (even if you don't remember how or why). We all are a little more than confused by its existence.

Let me briefly tell my story with Dr. Mario. When I was just a girl—at a time where my only video games were whatever random N64 and PS1 games my parents owned—I really looked forward to the occasional visit to my gamer aunt and uncle's house. Having extended family who are into video games is just the coolest feeling as a child, when all other grown-ups do only boring stuff like reading and fishing trips. During one fateful day out with my aunt, I was gifted my very own Nintendo DS Lite—the first console I felt was truly mine. An amazing feature of my silver DS, I would come to find, was backwards compatibility with GameBoy Advance games! And one of the first games I received to test it out was a little combo cartridge called Dr. Mario & Puzzle League

My actual childhood Dr. Mario & Puzzle League cartridge! (alongside my physical copy of GB Dr. Mario :p)

I'll be blunt here: I hated Dr. Mario. Its companion, Puzzle League, was (excuse my pun) leagues better, offering tons of single player puzzles, customization options, and a catchy as hell soundtrack—in addition to its multiplayer connectivity! Dr. Mario, sadly, only contained a couple of variations on endless mode; not much fun to be had for a child with no link cable to play with friends. Dr. Mario seemed too... simple. Only 3 colors? All you do is clear viruses? Nah, I was above this game.

And that was the last time I ever played Dr. Mario.

UNTIL NOW.

~Earning my PhD~

I began playing this game with the standard GameGirl procedure; playing a few rounds to get accustomed to the new environment, checking out the manual, conducting a small amount of personal research, and then setting goals to beat the game. The manual offered the usual gallery of fun official art and basic tutorial, but it didn't contain anything I didn't already know. That is, except one interesting detail that caught my attention.

Let me ask you a question that was at the forefront of my mind at this time: how do I "beat" Dr. Mario? An endless, arcade-style puzzle game with no story? The manual, Dr. Mario himself, had the answer.

Pay special attention to the second bullet point. I'll see "something special?" It's so ambiguous yet so enticing, and with such a difficult condition to discover whatever it was, I couldn't hold myself back. I knew that my destiny was to complete the game on the highest difficulty on the highest speed setting.

To do this, I put about 10 hours of work into practicing this game; matching colors, creating combos, managing junk pills, refining my reflexes, always looking at the next piece coming up, and then the one after that. I learned some very valuable techniques for getting far in this game. Always having at least one column available with each of the three colors is extremely helpful when you're given a pill (or, when you're unlucky, three or four in a row) of a color that simply does not match the current trouble virus. You must put care into placing each and every pill. You must be cunning to attack viruses from above, below, from the sides, or even a falling combo. You must be dexterous on the higher speeds, shifting pills across the bottle and rotating it twice in less than a second.

When I finally accomplished my first milestone, I was met with a scene I'd never witnessed before. A tranquil, wide open ocean floor...

The viruses sit there, watching the occasional sea life drift by. The sea appears so lonely...

~Dr. Mario master~

Yes, my goals for this game primarily entailed clearing levels at the highest difficulty. Specifically, I considered the game "beaten" if I cleared MED speed levels 5, 10, 15, and 20, and I considered it "100% completed" if I cleared HI speed levels 5, 10, 15, and 20. But what about the actual game? Was it fun? Worth becoming so competent at playing?

Unsurprisingly, this is the simplest and shortest GB title yet. I placed it here in the challenge as sort of a break from larger adventures, after all. The visuals are quite simple; beyond the initial gag of Mario dressed up in a lab coat, there isn't much to look at. The viruses do a funny little dance at the bottom of the screen, then get knocked over and blipped out of existence as you clear them. The game has a total of 6 unique songs: one for mode select, the iconic Fever and Chill that you may choose for gameplay, jingles for winning in multiplayer or setting up a combo of four or more, and then a special song for the special something after clearing one of the four MED or HI speed levels. The songs will easily get stuck in your head, and the special song was well worth earning each time I arrived at the bottom of the infested sea. The blips and bloops of gameplay will sometimes match up PERFECTLY with the gameplay themes; its like the composition is playing together with you, as well as being solid tunes that have been hummed by fans and remade by Nintendo for decades to come. They did a good job with the sound design, overall!

I guess my biggest gripe is... the overall concept of Dr. Mario? I still find it a bit too simple, even after all this time. There aren't many reasons to come back to it, if you aren't attempting the insane feat of 100% completion. The main draw of this game is the multiplayer and hoping that the satisfying falling-block match-4 formula keeps players hooked long enough to keep coming back when bored. But sadly, there isn't much versatility with the mechanics. Where other puzzle games contain a higher variety of pieces (Tetris), or greater combo opportunity (Puyo Puyo), or slicker visuals (Meteos), or some other wacky gimmick to keep you continuously exploring (Meteos again)... Dr. Mario falls short of a cure-all for boredom.

For the sake of this challenge, I did try out the multiplayer with a friend! A very cool feature of the NSO retro games is being able to connect with friends online, and play as if you were sitting across from each other with a link cable! In this game, you and your competitor (did you know that's what COM stands for? Competitor? Not "computer," as I always thought) race to clear the bottle of viruses before the other. The multiplayer does contain some unique visuals, including an indicator for how many remaining viruses your competitor needs to clear or how many wins you've accumulated (best three out of five).

Shoutouts to @br00f for playing with me! She beat me in a best of five that went all the way to game 5... and I have to call her Dr. Broof from now on...

~Conclusion~

In a vacuum, Dr. Mario is a well-made, fun, fast-paced puzzle game with some cool cutscenes and music to discover if you become skilled enough. Compared to other puzzle games, I find it a bit lacking in single-player content. I also think that the concept is a bit bare-bones, especially in this first iteration. Not much to accomplish beyond basic combos and managing three colors; it's almost too simple even for a casual player (as we witnessed in the Dr. Mario & Puzzle League anecdote).

Granted, I've never played the newer iterations of Dr. Mario. Maybe they've come up with more ways to shake up the formula? I won't be pursuing it anytime soon, I'm afraid; Dr. Mario just isn't for me. I can acknowledge it as a very important and solid GB title, worthy of being a member of the NSO library. That's about it.

Recommend? Sure, try it. It's probably as good as any other version of Dr. Mario

Oh, and I did manage to 100% complete the game! Check it out!

Look! All the viruses have been cleared away, the ocean flows freely with life once again~

[aajjks]

BC!JK

great, now you feel awful.

you definitely guilt tripped eunwoo into keeping milo and that isn’t right. you let out a sigh and put the cat down.

you’re acting really childish right now and you know that but why can’t he just understand that this breakup makes no sense! you’ve always been cheering him on by his side and now you have to cheer him on from afar, which hurts but maybe it really is for the best. you have to let him go which includes milo too.

“you know what” you say “you can keep milo. i’m being really childish right now” you look down at your feet where milo is and watch the cat strut to his father.

“i apologize eunwoo and you can have this too” you take the apartment key off of your keychain and hand it to him but before you leave, you give your ex one last hug. you’re soaking it all in, his scent, his warmth, everything. because this will be the last time you’ll be this close to him until next time.

his arms wrap secretly around your waist and holds you close, it feels so sweet and familiar. like the crybaby you are, tears fall from your eyes and when you pull away it takes everything in you to not kiss his lips but you know better.

“goodbye eunwoo” is the last thing you say to him before shutting the door behind you with your car keys in hand. when you come downstairs, you see danielle still waiting in her car but she immediately gets out when she sees your teary face.

“bring it in, love” she says as she pulls you in for a hug and lets you cry in her shoulders.

“i love him so much” you cry.

“i know but guess what? now you get to move on and live YOUR life with no attachments. you’re going to be happy and maybe you’ll find a man who will love you the way you want to be loved but you have to heal first”

danielle is right. first, you need to heal and learn to love yourself all over again. starting today, you’re going to move on and make room for the new memories that will be filled with a happy, single, and ambitious you.

“thanks danielle” you sniffle before wiping your tears on your cardigan sleeve and wearing a sad smile on your face.

you unlock your car and head back to the school but not before getting a quick bite to eat with danielle for lunch.

seems like today is a good day after all.

⏭️⏭️

you can’t believe jungkook really gave you a key to his house. you feel like you’re breaking in and entering without permission because you literally don’t own this house.

“jungkook?” you call his name yet he doesn’t answer which is strange considering his car is outside or maybe he has more than one car? you set your keys on his kitchen countertop and browse around his house until he comes home from work.

“aw” is that a picture of jungkook holding a fish? yes it is. there’s even another picture of baby koo with what seems to be his mother holding and kissing his cheek.

‘happy birthday, son!’ is engraved at the bottom of the picture frame with a collage of photos from what seems to be jungkook’s family and childhood.

“from mom. wow, he looks just like her” you tilt your head as you stare at a picture of his mother and father together. before you can browse more, you hear the door opening and shutting and you immediately rush to jungkook to tell him all about your day and hear about his.

“hey jungkook! how was your day at work? fun? boring? exhausting? c’mon, give me the details!”

Oh his angels home.

Jungkook wants nothing more than to just melt in your arms and hug you like his life depends on it, he had a very good day. It was a little scary at first, but… then he did it… he really impressed his father this time.

And it’s all because you came into his life, like the lucky charm that you are. So Jungkook doesn’t waste a single moment before he’s pulling you into a tight hug, he settles his chin on your shoulder, and he just sighs deeply into your embrace

“Yn my dad loved my presentation!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? HE LOVED IT.- and they all might go ahead with my idea for our next product! THIS IS HUGE.” He is so excited that he starts to twirl you around, it’s easy for him to lift you are taken aback but he can’t help it.

And that is a huge deal for him, and he said you realize that because his dad is not an easy man to impress.. even as his own son it’s hard for Jungkook to make him satisfied. And after a long time, he’s finally starting to appreciate his efforts.

You gasp loudly and Jungkook just giggles like a toddler, “s-sorry I guess I got a little excited… hehe…” he hurriedly puts you down back on the ground, “yn sorry..” he scratches the back of his head. He got a little too carried away this time.

“Tell me my angel, what’s up with you? Did you have a good day?” You both are still standing near the gate… and it warms his heart a lot that you asked him about his date. It felt so domestic….

You’re the perfect one for him, and you make him realize that every single second that he has started to spend with you.

He will never let you go

“And whose car is that I thought we had a guest over?”

[sheepon]

I'm stuck thinking about bugs!! Hobby entomologist rant!!!

When I move I have to leave my collection behind for biosecurity reasons, so I'm looking up info on collecting etiquette for Tasmania. The laws, permits needed, etc. In the US, there are plenty of state parks and forests that are chill with you insect collecting, foraging, and sometimes even taking plants home to plant. In Tas, it looks like this is very much not the case. I'm left thinking about my hobby. I love it. I love catching bugs, I think it's a ton of fun. I love spending time pinning them, the care it takes and being able to see all kinds of detail on them that's so much harder to see from afar. I love that it gets me out in nature, I love spotting new ones, I love that it makes me research and ID them. And as I've starting collecting only very sparingly now that it's not for classes, I love that each specimen reminds me of a time and place. I hold so dearly the funny little guys from my sand dunes trip in Colorado the other year! I will miss them :c tachinid fly, my beloved... On the other hand, I am killing living things for hobby. I am selfishly taking lives in order to obtain their bodies. On the other other hand, I've got excuses in my brain. I'm labelling everything meticulously so I can donate them when needed! And insects are r-selected! There are so many, because so many will die anyway! And I kill so, so many more insects when I drive my car out to go hiking, or when I walk around, or when I accidently let one fly into a building it'll never find its way out of. Really I guess I'm just uncomfortable because I want to keep doing this hobby even though I know it's kind of selfish and maybe wrong. And I have a gut feeling that maybe Tasmanian bug nerds might maybe look down on me for it. It feels like it'd be more forgivable if I at least had a spine about it. It's not lost on me though, that I don't really feel bad about fishing. Somehow it's forgivable if you at least are going to eat what you kill. Even though that means I'd kill more trout in my lifetime than I'll ever kill any single species of insect. Ough.

[travelloverr]

Orange Beach: A Coastal Paradise

Orange Beach, Alabama, is a treasure on the coast that provides travelers with the ideal balance of leisure and exploration. Orange Beach offers something for everyone, whether you're planning a romantic retreat, a family holiday, or a single trip. Let's investigate There are things to do in Orange seaside, Alabama, when you visit this lovely seaside location.

Exploring the Best Time to Visit

The best time to visit Orange Beach depends on your preferences and what you want to experience. Here's a breakdown of each season:

Spring (March-May): Enjoy pleasant weather, fewer crowds, and blooming flowers.

Summer (June-August): Experience warm temperatures, sunny days, and a vibrant atmosphere.

Fall (September-November): Enjoy mild weather, fewer crowds, and beautiful fall foliage.

Winter (December-February): Experience a quiet atmosphere, lower prices, and festive events.

For a detailed breakdown of each season, please refer to the previous response.

Must-Do Activities in Orange Beach

Hit the Beach: Relax on the pristine white sand beaches, swim in the crystal-clear Gulf waters, or build sandcastles with your family.

Water Sports: Indulge in thrilling water sports like fishing, boating, kayaking, paddleboarding, parasailing, and jet skiing.

Explore the Gulf State Park: Discover the natural beauty of the Gulf State Park, featuring hiking trails, bike paths, fishing piers, and a nature center.

Visit The Wharf: Enjoy shopping, dining, and entertainment at The Wharf, a vibrant waterfront complex with shops, restaurants, bars, and an amphitheater.

Discover Local History: Explore the rich history of the region at the Orange Beach Indian & Sea Museum and the Gulf Shores Museum.

Golf: Tee off at one of the many championship golf courses in the area, offering stunning views and challenging gameplay.

Family Fun: Enjoy family-friendly attractions like Adventure Island, Waterville USA, and the Alabama Gulf Coast Zoo.

Fishing: Cast a line and try your luck at catching a variety of fish, including red snapper, grouper, and amberjack.

Nature Walks: Embark on scenic nature walks along the Backcountry Trail, offering stunning views of the coastal wetlands and wildlife.

Sunset Cruises: Enjoy a romantic sunset cruise and admire the breathtaking views of the Gulf Coast.

Popular Hotel & Resorts in USA

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best area to stay in New Orleans

Additional Tips for Your Visit

Pack for the weather: Be prepared for varying temperatures and humidity levels, depending on the season.

Bring sunscreen and insect repellent: Protect yourself from the sun and bugs while enjoying outdoor activities.

Consider renting a car: Having a car will give you more flexibility to explore the area and visit nearby attractions.

Check for special events: Orange Beach hosts various festivals and events throughout the year, so check the calendar for any special occasions.

Respect the environment: Help preserve the natural beauty of Orange Beach by following local guidelines and minimizing your impact on the environment.

If you want to know more detailed information about Orange beach, then I recommend you to read the blog written about Orange beach by Itinerary Plans, I hope you will understand completely. Click here

[birdybirdnerd]

10 or 12 for all your parable actors pls!

YIPPEE lets do this under the cut

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

10: What fact do they excitedly tell people about at every opportunity?

god. raph likes infodumping about practical stage effects and just practical effects in general (dont get her STARTED on the little shop of horrors animatronic/puppet (dont get ME started on it))

spencer wont excitedly talk about it but if youre curious hes happy to talk about the chemical interactions of different alcohols and how the brewing and aging changes the taste, how its served, all those little 'pretentious' details that actually have basis in real shit ('did you know if you took a bottom shelf vodka and ran it through a brita filter a handful of times its damn near indistinguishable from some higher shelf shit? and if you take a decent one and do the same you can pass it off to any schmuck for double the price and theyll be none the wiser')

nancy, narrator he is, would happily talk your ear off about themes and motifs in stories, the nature of choice and free will in a CYOA game where every ending is accounted for and chosen for you before youve even had a chance to hit 'new game', the annoyance of a players need to squeeze every drop of content out of a story before demanding even more, yadda yadda yadda. you know, narrator stuff. but i think after his backpacking trip and stint on a tallship, he also learns a lot about shipbuilding and the history of sailing superstitions, the meanings of traditional sailors tattoos, stories of shanties and the themes that seem to wind through a lot of them. no i am not projecting who are you a cop

ive got nothing for perry. honestly it could probably rival a narrator for how annoying it could maybe be about story shit like i said for nancy above

12: What's something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

spencer: puns. puns puns puns. wordplay, dad jokes, the lamer the better

nancy: similar to spencer but the kind of jokes that take a minute to tell- we call them shaggy dog stories, theyre like you start telling a story and it seems at first its gonna be a real one, not a joke, and you keep spinning it and spinning it and adding more detail and going on and on and then you hit the punchline and its the WORST PUN EVER and everyone wants to kill you but theyre laughing too hard, nancy included. you KNOW as a narrator hes perfect at spinning the damn tale and getting you sucked in and forget its gonna end in a joke that makes you wanna throw him overboard

raph: animals doing dumb shit. all i can think of rn is that video of a dog being told 'dont woof' and then immediately doing the most eloquent 'woof'. cracks her up every time. or that one of a cat looking at a fish tank and gearing up to pounce on the fish only to immediately THUNK into the glass in the most cartoony fashion and then pretend nothing happened

perry: minorly inconveniencing someone in a really annoying fashion. butthead. oh my GOD he would do the wasabi gum trick i hate this

[fishihavecaught]

Costa Rica

We had a trip planned for Costa Rica this January and I put two Roosterfish charters on the books to try again for one of my bucket list species. I decided on two because last time one day wasn't enough and I wanted the extra in case the first day didn't work out.

I won't go into great detail here about the remainder of the trip, but Costa Rice wildlife and jungles are amazing.

Our yard was filled with Agoutis.

Three different species of monkeys regularly came by the house as well.

Some cool crabs from Manuel Antonio.

Almost as if it was destined to happen, the first day charter I took out for Roosterfish was a total bust. Not a single fish was caught the entire day. I honestly think this is the first charter I have ever been on where nothing at all was captured. Usually, I will get something or help with catching bait. I was now down to my last charter and last chance again to get the Roosterfish. This would be my 3rd charter specifically booked for this species.

Unlike the day before, we started off catching bait and I hooked several Pacific Thread Herring (Opisthonema libertate) and added them to the live well. If nothing else, at least I had caught one new species.

Species #316 - Pacific Thread Herring (Opisthonema libertate)

After trolling the beach for a few hours we finally got a hit and I pulled in species #317 - the Pacific Tripletail (Lobotes pacifica).

Not long afterwards I got a good solid hit and, after a couple jumps and a very nice fight, I finally pulled in species #318 and bucket list species #2 off my list - the Roosterfish (Nematistius pectoralis)!

It felt great to finally knock this one off the list and I told the captain mission accomplished and anything could happen now.

Over the course of the next few hours I landed the following species:

#319 - Longjaw Leatherjack (Oligoplites altus)

Pacific Crevalle Jack (Caranx caninus)

#320 - Pacific Sierra (Scomberomorus sierra)

Pacific Sierra was one of the species I lost at the boat in Acapulco back in 2017, so it was nice to finally get another chance at one.

To end the day we went trolling back at the spot with the sardine bait ball and just as the day was ending I hooked into a heavy bite and reeled in what on any other day would have been the catch of the day.

Species #321 - the Whitefin Weakfish or Whitefin Corvina (Cynoscion albus).

I caught 7 species on the day and 6 of them were new. I also got my target of Roosterfish and a bunch of awesome species. It was a great day out and a great trip. 2024 is off to a good start.

[eleanorxshipley]

It was difficult to focus on bits of their conversation when Samar would throw something charming out there to distract her with. It was a line that he may have used countless times; he oozed of suaveness. Still, it felt endearing enough not to be practiced. For someone who could easily ignore charms and flirty remarks - as she'd grown accustomed to needing to in the business - something about it this time gave her butterflies. It had to be that damn kiss, she insisted. She'd had a taste and wanted more. Eleanor was good at depraving herself of things, but Samar had been on her mind for a while now. "I cannot deny that truth. It does seem you are usually on the top of your game with the material you put out. That says a lot about the opportunities you take advantage of." Eleanor shook her head, but the smirk toying at pink lips definitely gave way that she wasn't perturbed by his comment. "I'm sure that is untrue, but I will gladly accept the flattery. Even if it is a line I've heard many times," she pointed out cheekily.

"You aren't wrong though. It's usually quite obvious within the first few minutes of conversation when someone actually wants your company or just wants something from you. Typically it's the latter. But I cannot imagine a single thing you would want from me, Mr. Seghal. And I don't think Diana would take too kindly if you did." Her friend was a firecracker, and though Samar seemed more reserved and gentlemanly, she knew there was a fire brewing beneath. For some reason she felt inclined to ignite it. "Well, I only know what Diana has told me... or you know, gossip. But you've already proven that everything heard isn't to be believed." Eleanor enjoyed the casual atmosphere; it was something she didn't get to revel in too often except with close friends. Maybe Samar might become part of that. "Thank you. I would love to go back someday." When she wasn't constantly looking over her shoulder, worried that Olivier might learn of her trip. "Really? I think you may have to rectify that then. I thought Diana said you had been in a long relationship and traveled a little. I just assumed Paris would be a hotspot for that." Yes, she was fishing for details, but it had sort of come up organically. Or she convinced herself that it had.

"I'm sorry, she laughed as the waitress slipped away. "I didn't want to order you something you despite. Good to know I'm safe with wine then. And a sliding scale seems accurate. Trouble isn't exactly my middle name. I just always assumed you were more the rebel type. Going out and causing mayhem so you could write about it." It came out as a joke, but it actually wasn't too far off from her first impression. "Football is fun. I used to go sometimes with my brother. Do you only watch, or do you like to play it as well? My family thought I was weird because I enjoyed playing flag football with Charlie and his friends," she shared, then reached for her own glass for a sip. A few moments passed and Samar was supplied his wine and their food orders had been placed. Eleanor could feel her body sort of ease as she became more comfortable. Still, there was the main reason she had invited him here, and now she was getting a little nervous about bringing it up. "So." She started softly, swallowing another hearty sip of alcohol. "I suppose you're curious about this proposition I mentioned?" The actress in her wanted to play calm, cool, and collected, but the way Eleanor fiddled with her napkin wasn't pulling off that vibe. She bit her lip, tilting her head to the side as her cheeks flushed deeply. "About what happened on the boat. Would you, um, be opposed to... trying that again, sometime. Maybe?" As soon as the words came out she wanted to run out. Or maybe hide under the table. "I mean, you know... nothing serious, just... show this depraved actress how to have some fun?"

And then she died of embarrassment. But somehow kept rambling. "Sorry, I-- this is new to me," Eleanor admitted. "I know everyone else is cool with hook-ups but it's not usually my thing, so. Yeah. There you go. Now I'm going to just drown in this glass of wine."

Samar chuckled at her well-thought out attempt to box him in with her question. Part of what drew him to her in the first place was that she clearly wasn’t just a pretty face, Eleanor Shipley was a formidable thinker in her own right. Giving his beard a playful scratch, he took a moment before answering. “Oh I think we both know the right answer to that, and neither of us have gotten to where we are already by ignoring a good opportunity, right? On the other hand, I can’t think of a single opportunity right this moment that’s better than being here to meet with you.” Samar, honest to a fault but it didn’t mean he couldn’t turn on the charm when he wanted or needed to either. He gave a little chuckle as it was clear just how comfortable she was being back in London, despite its obvious flaws.

The vibes between them were happy and positive, which in itself was still something of a surprise to Samar but also something he was happy to nurture along. Admitting that he shared interest in her company as well, the banter stayed light between them. “Trust me, if it was just an obligation I think you’d be perceptive enough to know. And there’s definitely no reason for embarrassment either tonight.” He grinned at the way she compared and contrasted him with his cousin; “Spot on with that, actually. We might take different routes to get there, but usually we wind up at the finish line all the same. And if you know anything about our family, that’s no accident.”

Allowing himself to be a little less formal now as he balanced his chin in hands, Samar was all too happy to hear her talk about her recent work taking her to Paris. Even though she was something of a globetrotter the impression he got was Eleanor certainly wasn’t jaded by the travel. “Well I’m glad to hear that you had fun still, in between work. And who knows, you just may be able to get there before too long?” For a moment or two he allowed himself to picture her there at the Eiffel Tower enjoying the splendour of it all, perhaps in the company of a certain journalist. “I can’t say I’ve spent much time there either, and what little I have wasn’t for sightseeing either.” Joined by a waitress who brought a drink for Eleanor and water for himself, he nodded politely. “Well I do enjoy water, so thank you for thinking of me.” He took the opportunity to order a glass of wine, and once they were alone again the banter resumed playfully. “Scout’s honor, although for some of us trouble is on a sliding scale.” He grinned once more, taking a sip of water. “Oh, nothing that scandalous. I do enjoy football, I try to get out to a few of Liverpool’s games a year. Besides that, I’m quite the homebody. Though I’ve been trying to pick up some new interests lately. Any suggestions?”

[kiwixlime]

Prove Me Right

P is for Possessive

Sam is preparing for another risky adventure. This time you insist you meet his new companion. When you start getting along a little too well for Sam’s liking, he has to step in and remind you just who you belong to. 

Pairing: Samuel Drake x Female Reader

Warnings: Possessive behavior, degradation, unprotected p-in-v, semi-public sex, spitting kink, choking, uhhhh lemme know if I missed anything. Additional notes: This isn't my best, but I'm feeling stuck lately and it took literally everything in me to even get this out. Agh, please forgive me. I still love Sam so much and I've been replaying Uncharted 4 to reconnect, it's just writing is not flowing with me right now. My brain hates me. But anyway. We have this. And although it's not my favorite, I hope you still find something to like about it! <3

Anxiety pools in the pit of your stomach as you slip on your dress. Shaky hands attempt to pull up the back zipper. But you cannot get your fears under control, and therefore, your fingers become useless. In a bout of frustration, you slam your fist onto the bathroom counter. “Fuck,” you whisper. 

You’re rarely this nervous - this distraught. Usually, you’re a pretty confident person with a slight God Complex, if you’re being honest. But right now, you feel so small and fearful. And it’s uncharted territory for you. 

Sam, your boyfriend and overly eager treasure hunter, is preparing for one of his most dangerous trips to date. A stint in prison. A Panamanian prison. 

Sam is a smart guy. He's totally capable and knows how to handle and get out of sticky situations. But this is just insane. It’s certifiable. 

It’s prison. But you can’t tell him no. You don’t control him, and even if you expressed your disdain for this adventure in particular, he’d never listen. He’s as stubborn as you. 

So you made a deal without coming off as a panicked girlfriend. You told him this time, you wanted to know every single detail of his trip. And you wanted to meet all the parties involved. Especially since it wasn’t just Nathan. 

When Sam told you he’d brought in an outsider for this job, the silent fears within you escalated. Rafe Adler. You know his name well, but you’ve only heard a few things. None of them have been good. He’s a spoiled brat, apparently. And that alone makes you cautious to have him tag along with the love of your life. 

Sam put up a fight at first, not loving the idea of you being involved in a risky meeting like this. But when he realized you weren’t going to budge, he gave in. He then admitted one of the reasons he didn't want you to meet Rafe is because he knows that Rafe has a certain charm. He’s a prick, but he’s attractive. And he's really good at sweet talking. And Sam knows the other man will make a comment or two directed at you. And Sam’s jealous side will make an appearance. 

“Sam!” You call out as you tap your freshly lacquered nails along the marble countertop. After taking a few deep breaths, you manage to calm down. But your dress is still undone, and you need help. And you know Sam is so hyped up with adrenaline right now that he won’t notice your sweaty demeanor or the apprehension in your eyes. 

In seconds, your boyfriend appears at the door of the bathroom, looking at you with mixed emotions. His mouth opens and closes like a stupid fucking fish. You fight the urge to say something sassy and force a smile to ask for help. 

“You’re wearing that?” Sam immediately questions upon seeing you but walks over anyway to zip you up. 

You look down at your dress. It’s a simple outfit, black and fitted with a halter neck. It’s chic and simple, but you look sophisticated. It makes you feel confident. “Yes?” 

He eyes you up, biting his tongue as he does. His eyes focus on your curves and the way the tight, slinky dress forms to your body. It’s sexy, far too sexy for this meeting. It shows off all of your assets, leaving little to the imagination. And for who? Rafe? “Hm,” he grunts in dissatisfaction.

“Is there something wrong with my outfit, Samuel?” You ask with a sigh. You already know the answer. And you already know what he’s going to say. But you feel like you need to ask anyway. Just to humor him. 

“No, dear,” Sam answers, annoyance clear in his voice as he sulks back to the door. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him. 

“Yes, dear,” he repeats, the same irritated tone lacing his words. He’s such a jerk sometimes. 

But you’re not going to play his games. If he has something to say to you, he will. Ignoring him, you go about your business, finishing your hair off with a few curls. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look nice, and once you’re happy with your hair, you click off the curling iron and unplug it from the wall. 

“You look hot,” Sam compliments to break the tension between you. “You always look hot. But right now…” His words fade as he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. Once again, you’re leaving him speechless. 

“Thanks, baby,” you smile and walk over to where he stands. You stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him, smudging a bit of your lipstick on his cheek. “Whoops, guess it hasn’t dried down yet,” you giggle and wipe the crimson shade off his skin before you return to your position in front of the mirror. 

Sam shrugs, pressing that same cheek to his shoulder, your kiss still lingering. “I like when you mark me,” he says, and you fight the urge to say something witty. He comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle comfortably. He rests his chin on your shoulder and breathes. “You smell good,” he murmurs, swaying your body in his arms. 

“It’s my lotion,” you answer as you coat your lashes with a thick flick of mascara. Sam frowns, inhaling again. 

“Berries and cream,” he states. 

“Mhm,” you reply with a soft smile. 

“That’s usually your nighttime lotion,” he points out, squeezing you a little bit tighter in his arms. You raise an eyebrow at that. What he means to say is that’s the lotion he associates with bedtime, which he then associates with sex. 

“I couldn’t find my other one,” you shrug. It’s an honest answer. You didn’t want to waste time scouring your room for a bottle of lotion, so you settled on what was close by. 

But Sam doesn’t accept that answer easily. He sneers and removes his arms from you, stomping towards your bedroom. You turn around, ready to hear his allegations. 

“Are you trying to impress Rafe?” He accuses. And there it is. 

You’d roll your eyes at the accusation, but you’re familiar with Sam's behavior by now. Having dated him for well over a year, you’ve learned that he can be quite territorial. You’re not sure why he’s so possessive, maybe it has something to do with his childhood, but he is. Especially with you. 

“What a ridiculous question,” you huff and close your tube of mascara. You toss it onto the counter with a clank and follow him to the room. 

“Is it, though?” He snaps, dragging his eyes up your frame, gesturing to your body with his hands. “This dress, that makeup, even your fucking scent…” He trails off. “Pretty convenient.”

You stride over to him, cocking your head to the side. “Maybe it’s not Rafe I’m trying to impress, hm?” You tsk, stopping just as your chest brushes against Sam’s. Your finger lightly trails up the growing bulge in his pants. It’s funny - Sam’s default setting is usually horny. It seems he’s always half-hard and ready to go. Certainly, this outfit isn’t helping. Or is it? “Maybe it’s you I’m trying to get a rise out of.” He twitches under your touch and you smile. “Seems like it’s working.” 

“You’re a fucking brat,” he spits, and you chuckle. His hands reach for your hips, but you push him away. 

“Yeah?” You turn around and motion to your shared bed. “You want to fuck me into submission? You want to tie me to this bed and show me who I belong to? Go ahead,” you whisper. “I won’t stop you. But we’re going to be late. And Nathan is already upset about you inviting Rafe to this little thing. Do you really want to piss him off even more?” 

Sam huffs and takes two long strides towards you. He grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls you into him, your breath hitching in your throat. He grins as he notices the subtle flash of fear in your eyes. He’d never hurt you, and you know that, but his intensity can be a bit shocking. 

“You’ll pay for this,” he grunts as he forces you to look at him. Those gorgeous hazel eyes peer right into your soul. 

You swallow thickly and nod your head. “I cannot wait,” you whimper. Content, he lets go of you, and you stumble backward in your heels. Your small burst of submission disperses, and your cocky attitude once again shines. “Come on, big boy, everybody knows I’m yours. You don’t have to act so primal.” 

“Just move,” he orders with a snap of his fingers, pointing towards the front door. Now that he’s all worked up, he’s bossier than usual, ordering you around like he owns you. And okay, maybe he does. In a sense, anyway. 

As you grab your purse and leave your room, Sam grabs you by the wrist. He forcefully yanks you into him, placing his hands firmly on your ass. He gives you a light squeeze, bending down and planting his lips on yours. His eager tongue prods your lips apart before invading your mouth. And you just let him manhandle you. 

His hands roam up your curves hidden behind that dress and up to your tits. His mouth still assaults yours as he feels you up, groping every part of your body, claiming what’s already his. Once he’s satisfied, he bites your lip, pulling away with a smug grin on his face. 

“You feel better?” You ask as you glance at the mirror to check your lipstick. “Feel good marking your territory? Next time, why don’t you just pee on me?” You scoff and grab his hand. 

He chuckles and follows your lead. “Don’t give me ideas.”

-

When you arrive at the restaurant, Sam instantly pulls you into him. His strong arm wraps around your waist, his hand on your hip as he guides you through the establishment. The look in his eyes is deadly as he shows you off, challenging anyone to so much as glance at you in the wrong way. 

You two stop at the host station, and Sam mentions he’s meeting someone while you just take in your surroundings, a little stunned at how regal the place is. Rafe picked it, of course. Any excuse to flash his worth. Another reason Sam keeps you so close. Not that you’re tempted by material things, but he doesn’t want you getting any ideas. 

The young hostess smiles as she tells Sam that his party is already here and waiting. She’s a cute girl, younger than you, obviously intimidated by your handsome boyfriend, and even a little flustered. It’s adorable, really. But Sam doesn’t notice. And if he did, he doesn’t care. 

Instead, he looks at you. “Ready?” He asks, knowing that you’re nervous. He may be a pain in the ass, but he’s your pain in the ass, and he loves you. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you tell him with honesty. 

The girl ushers you to one of the smaller tables at the back of the restaurant, far away from everyone else. It only seats four persons, but it’s secluded behind closed doors with its own personal chef and wait staff. Rafe pulled out all the punches for this meeting. It seems he is trying to impress you. 

For the benefit of Sam, of course. 

Your boyfriend scoffs at the luxuries, unimpressed, but he wears a fake smile as he greets Rafe, thanking him for pulling out all the stops. As they talk, you round the table to give Nathan a hug, noticing his tentative expression. You already know he’s not a fan of Rafe, and he’s irritated that Sam felt the need to bring in a third party. So you sympathize with him. 

“How are things, Nate?” You ask, making conversation with the younger Drake and ignoring that pressure building up in your system. The men behind you talk, but you can feel their eyes burning into the back of your skull. 

“Not too bad,” Nathan sighs as he looks behind you. “We’ll see how this goes,” his voice comes out in a mumble, quieter, so the duo doesn’t hear him. 

You frown and squeeze his arm in comfort. “We’ll be okay,” you whisper, trying to assure him - and yourself - that this extravagant plan will work out just fine. 

Nathan opens his mouth, but it’s an unfamiliar voice you hear speaking up. You fight a grimace at the interruption, and with your hand still on Nathan’s arm, you turn around to finally meet the eyes of the notorious rich boy you've heard so much about. He’s cute, in a villainesque kind of way, with slicked back chestnut hair and piercing blue eyes. He looks the part of a spoiled brat so well that you have to hold back a laugh. 

“Wow,” the man says with a surprised chuckle as he extends his hand to you. “Sam told me you were beautiful, but I thought he was just exaggerating,” Rafe teases, earning an eye roll from Sam. He looks over to your boyfriend with a sinful smirk. “You weren’t lying, Samuel. She’s stunning.”

If looks could kill, Rafe would be dead on the floor. Sam shoots him a malevolent glance -- a warning. He then crosses the room to where you stand, nodding to his brother before grabbing your hand. His fingers lace with yours and he drags your body behind him, shielding you from Rafe’s curious eyes. All the while, you let Sam wave you around like a doll. That’s basically what you are, anyway. His little toy. 

“I’m Rafe,” the fancy little fucker says, and instead of being rude, you step around Sam and introduce yourself. You don’t love the way Rafe’s cold hand encloses yours. His touch isn’t welcoming or sincere, and that throws you off. It’s like he can’t even pretend to be a kind soul. 

This dinner will be interesting. If Sam can keep his selfishness to a minimum and Nathan can keep an open mind, then all will go well. But you don’t have much faith in either of them. So you wait. And you listen. 

And as the boys dive into the discussion, you observe carefully, analyzing Rafe to the best of your ability. There’s something about him that immediately turns your stomach. It’s not his cocky demeanor or the flaunting of wealth. When you look at him, your insides fill with a darkness, as if something truly evil surrounds him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but he makes you uncomfortable. And when you look over at Nathan, you can sense that he feels it, too. 

Sam, on the other hand, is blinded by the pull Rafe has and the connections he provides. Long forgotten is Rafe’s blatant attempt at flirting with you. There is only one thing on Sam’s mind, and you know you’ll never be able to break that curse he’s under. But maybe you can try…

In a bold move, you lean forward on the table, pushing your chest out, catching the attention of Rafe almost instantaneously. Your dress hides your cleavage, but the fabric forms to your tits in a way that would make anyone turn their heads. Your hand reaches across the tabletop until your fingers brush against Rafe’s. The sudden action takes him, and Sam, by surprise. 

Your boyfriend seethes, his eyes darkening and flicking to you in alarm. He’s not sure what the hell you’re trying to do, but he doesn’t appreciate the obvious disrespect. You choose to ignore him, though. And focus your attention on the attractive stranger you don’t trust. 

“So,” you begin, fluttering your eyelashes like some basic whore desperate for attention. Well, that’s what Sam would say. And he wouldn’t be wrong. But you need to ramp up your sexuality. You need to break Sam. “I know why Nathan and Samuel are interested in this…expedition. But what’s in it for you?” 

“Well,” Rafe drags out, avoiding Sam’s death stare and placing his hand atop yours. “I’m just intrigued,” he says, which does little to satisfy your hunger to know more about this man. “These two are quite the storytellers. It’s impossible not to fall into it.” 

“Hmm,” you mumble, biting your lip in thought. You can feel Sam tense next to you, and you know you’ll be in trouble later for your actions now, but it’ll be worth it if you get the answers you want. “So is it the treasure or the experience?” You ask Rafe, hoping for a clean-cut response. “You’re already handsome, rich, you seem to have the world at your fingertips… Why risk prison in a foreign country?” 

“Maybe I like the thrill,” Rafe answers you quickly, eyes narrowing at your line of questioning. “Maybe I like the danger. Maybe I want to do something I’m not supposed to do.” His grip on your hand tightens, and the anxiety in your stomach grows. You do not like this guy. And you do not trust him with Sam, or Nathan for that matter. 

Anger pulses through your boyfriend as he watches Rafe touch you in a way no one else should. His hands twitch with a need to grab you by the throat and throw you onto the table right now. But that would be inappropriate, even for a couple like you and Sam. So instead, he slams his fist down, chair screeching as he abruptly stands. He leers down at you. 

“Up, now,” he demands, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Nathan hides his face in embarrassment, but Rafe watches on, amused. You get up, pretending to feel ashamed as you drop your napkin onto the table. But then you notice that wicked grin on Rafe’s lips, and you just can’t stand his arrogance anymore. 

“Don’t wait too long,” you say with a wink, irritating Sam even further, but it’s worth it to see Rafe’s smug expression falter. Sam violently shoves you out of the private room, fed up with your defiant behavior. His hand has such a strong grip on your wrist as he drags you to the restroom, you know you’ll have a bruise tomorrow. 

And that’s what Sam wants. He’s leaving you for God knows how long. He needs you to remember him, not that you’d ever forget. But he has to mark you, he has to give you these reminders. So that when you’re all alone in your room at night, missing him, craving him, you’ll see these little bruises and get yourself off thinking about how you got them. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” Sam breathes as he shoves you into one of the empty stalls of the posh bathroom. He doesn’t even bother with the lock, throwing you up against the cold door instead. “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“What do you mean?” You pout until Sam brings his hand up to your throat. He grips your neck tightly, the back of your head smacking against the stall door as he roughs you up. “I just wanted your attention,” you gasp as you try to find enough air to breathe out your words.

“By throwing yourself at Rafe?” He froths, digging his fingers into the softness of your skin. His face lowers to yours, his hot breath dancing over your lips. “Are you forgetting who you belong to? Is your silly fucking brain malfunctioning or what?” He snaps at you, the pressure of his grip increasing, tiny black spots flaring behind your eyelids. “You’re fucking mine, princess. How dare you disrespect me like that!”

“Sam,” you weep, ignoring his harsh words. You’re used to it by now. And maybe that’s punishable, but you don’t care. You want him. You need him. He’s leaving with that psychopath and you’re going to miss him. “I just--” 

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, moving his hand to your hair, the other keeping your hips pinned to the door. “You don’t get to act like a needy bitch,” he scolds you. “You wanted my attention? You got it. And you’ll fucking take what I give you. And you’ll like it.” His words send a rush to your aching core and he notices the way your pathetic body trembles beneath him. “Fuck, look at you.” 

“Sam!” You whine again, desperate to have him. This all started because you wanted to get him away from Rafe, but now that he’s in the mood, all hot and bothered, you can only think about having him inside of you. Fuck, you are a slut. “I’m sorry,” you whimper, bucking your hips into nothing. 

Sam chuckles, watching your needy body thrash around for attention. This is just how he likes you, hopeless and pitiful. “Christ, you’re pathetic,” he muses, a handsome grin painting his lips. “So fucking needy. You’re such a slut, fuck,” he groans as the hand that was once on your hip glides down your thigh until he reaches the hem of your dress. “I bet if I shoved my fingers up this skimpy little dress I’d find your panties fucking soaked.”

“Mm,” you manage to moan out, though it sounds pained and muffled, but it turns Sam on even more. He does in fact slide his hand up your dress, pressing his fingers to your clothed cunt, smirking down at you when he feels just how wet you are.

“Can’t believe you get off on this,” he chuckles as his fingers slowly begin to rub where you need him the most. You feel your legs weaken, turning to jelly only being held up by Sam’s firm hold. His words replay in your head over and over. You are pathetic; you are needy. You are so fucking deranged and in love with this sadistic man. “God, what’s wrong with you?”

A sweet little whimper sneaks past your lips and Sam revels in the sound. He loves how easy you are, only for him. All it takes are a few simple words, and you’re fucking putty in his hands. 

“Open your mouth,” he orders, his voice rough and deep, mimicking his movements. “Now.” 

Being the good girl you are, you do as he says, tilting your head back and slowly parting your lips. He doesn’t have time for your games, digging his thumb into the plushness of your bottom lip and pulling it down. He towers over you, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he spits into your mouth. 

You flinch slightly, rolling your tongue until Sam grabs your chin. “Swallow,” he demands, pushing your pretty mouth closed. You follow his command, swallowing his spit and smiling like the perfect little pet you are. He traces the soft skin of your cheeks, in awe of how they redden at his touch. “Good girl.”

“Please,” you pout, hoping that you’ve been good enough, and done everything he’s asked of you, to finally get what you want. “I need you, Sam, please?”

“Sound so fucking good when you beg, princess,” he tells you, giving you a light slap. “Take off your panties,” he demands, stepping back to give you the space to move. “You want to act like a whore, you can walk around like one,” he huffs, grabbing the silk from your hands once you shimmy it down your legs. He shoves your panties in his pocket, tapping them safely. “You’ll get them back when we get home.”

“Ugh,” you scoff, but it’s short-lived as Sam grabs your weak body, spinning you around. He pulls you harshly against him, greedily reaching under your dress. 

“This,” he groans as he slips his fingers past the dripping folds of your pussy, “is mine.” His other hand moves back to your ass, caressing it softly. “And this is mine.” He then reaches up to your tits, the ones you were showing off to Rafe earlier, squeezing hard. “Mine,” he says. “This body is mine, do you understand me? It’s mine to do whatever the fuck I want with.” 

You nod feverishly. The heat between your thighs intensifies as Sam speaks these filthy words to you. God, you shouldn’t love his possessive behavior, but you do. You crave it. And you’re going to fucking miss it so much. 

“Please, Sam,” you practically purr, pushing your ass against him. “Fuck me.” The words come out high-pitched and squeaky, and it turns Sam’s brain to slush.  

Luckily for you, he can’t hold off any longer. He’s been dying to fuck you since you left the apartment this morning. So without hesitation, he pins your fragile hands to the door and slams his hard cock into you. 

“Oh, fuck,” his voice quivers as he fills you. “My good little slut,” he breathes, bucking his hips forward, sinking deeper past your velvety walls. “God, you feel so good.” A loud gasp vibrates from his throat, his fingers twisting with yours to bring your hands back behind you. He holds your wrists together tightly in one of his hands, using the other to smack your ass. “Fuck,” he whispers again. 

“Sam,” you plead, grinding back into him. “Don’t stop,” you cry out as if he would. No, he wants to watch you come apart beneath him. He wants to hear your pretty moans, your sexy gasps, those dirty words you say as he pounds into you. No, he won’t stop until you’ve cum all over his cock. 

“You take me so fucking well, princess,” he grunts, his thighs slapping against yours, those messy sounds bouncing off the bathroom walls. “Of course you do,” he chuckles, picking up his pace. “This pretty pussy was made to be fucked by me.”

You’re a moaning mess, and you don’t disagree. You’d believe whatever Sam tells you if it meant he would keep fucking you like this. But words are hard to come by as you’re being screwed into oblivion. 

“Say it,” Sam growls, bringing his rough palm to your ass. The sting makes you jump, cowering away from him, but he brings you back, punishing you with another smack. “Who do you belong to?” He snarls. 

“Y-you Sam,” you whimper, your eyes rolling back as tears threaten to fall. He’s ruthless and harsh, but he feels so fucking good. “Fuck, oh god.” 

“Louder,” he urges, angling his hips as you clench around him. He mumbles incoherent things under his breath, but you know it’s probably just curse words or broken sentences about how good you feel. He’s moving so fast, hitting all the right spots, you can barely breathe. But he’s adamant about you being as vocal as possible. Warning you with yet another hard slap. 

“Oh, fuck!” You mewl, squeezing your eyes shut. Too much, it’s almost too much. You can’t stand it. “You, Sam. I--fuck.” 

Your pathetic sounds aren’t enough for Sam. Full sentences or he’ll keep tormenting you. “I said fucking louder!” His hand tangles in your hair, gripping so tight you can feel the intense pull on your skull, tingles shooting from your head to your toes. 

“I belong to you, Sam,” you say in the steadiest voice possible. That seems to satisfy your boyfriend as he groans and softens his grip on you. 

“Good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, such a good girl.” 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whine, words coming out all hot and breathy. Makes Sam’s stomach flutter. 

But, he’s a dick. “No, you’re fucking not,” he shoots you down, making you cry. “Not yet, you’ll cum when I cum.” 

“Ugh, please,” you groan, desperate for your release. 

“Fuck, almost there,” he thrusts faster, his voice reaching a higher decibel as his climax approaches. You always loved that sound. He has some of the hottest moans when he cums. “Gonna fill this pretty pussy with my cum, make you walk around the rest of the night with me leaking out of you,” he laughs. 

“Please, please,” you cry. “Oh, god, Sam, I can’t… I need it.”

“Oh, god damn,” he grunts in a soft, resounding voice. “I’m cumming, I’m..fuck…cum with me princess,” he whispers, stilling his hips and releasing his load deep inside you. He curses when you flutter around him as you cum, covering him in your juices. 

You’re both panting, coming down from your highs. As you lean against the door with your wobbly legs, your brain comes back to the reason you’re out tonight. Rafe. You really don’t trust him, and you’re terrified. You can’t even explain it, but it makes you want to cry. 

And Sam notices. You try to hide your trembling lips, looking away from your boyfriend. But he’s quick to catch it. Just like he catches everything else. 

“Baby, are you okay?” Sam asks with worry. He turns your chin towards him, concern taking over his features at your sad face. “Oh, love,” he coos. 

“I’m fine,” you lie, wiping your eyes before tears can even fall. “Fine.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Sam warns, offering you a smile. “Hey, talk to me.” 

“I’m scared, Sam,” you admit, finally speaking your mind. “I love you so much. And I’m scared. Rafe… He’s not… I just…” You trail off, not making any sense. It’s no use. 

“Don’t worry, my love,” he comforts you with a kiss. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll work out. I promise, baby. I love you so much. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have the confidence.” 

“Just come back to me,” you whisper with pleading eyes. It’s enough to melt Sam’s heart. 

“I will, princess,” he says. “I will always come back to you. I swear.” 

Masterlist

Sam Drake Taglist: @julesclues - @tiredbeebo - @bluewingedangel

[majestyeverlasting]

Everyone I Love’s in This Place

Paring: Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

Children: Jamie (James Jr.) and Eden, ages 9 and 8

Summary: There are some places that always manage to feel like home. And after spending time with the Wilson family and their friends in Delacroix, you can safely say that the little community is one of them. Even more so when you get to dance with them into the night.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Consider this an ode to togetherness and good times. There's lots of warmth with cuteness and humor sprinkled in. The title is a line from the song "Idle Town" by Conan Gray, and I thought it was fitting for this story. I hope you enjoy!

All it took one glance around the table to let you know that you were right where you belonged. It was a deep knowing that settled within the innermost part of you. The evening air was warm. And along with the sound of utensils meeting ceramic plates, laughter rose up to the sky like an offering. Not a single pair of eyes, from the lightest blue to the darkest brown, was void of light. The faces of those who started off as strangers seemed as though you’d known them for a lifetime. As if you’d personally been around to see the genesis of their smile lines or spent countless hours with them under the Delacroix sun.

The Wilson’s were hosting Thanksgiving. After settling into a rental along a bayou the previous day, you, Bucky, and the kids had swung by to assist with last minute prep. A few of their cousins were at the family residence as well, and 80s R&B played as you sat in the kitchen assembling centerpieces. They consisted of petite vases and thin artificial berry branches. Small white pumpkins were to be placed around them once on the table. Sarah had already finished cooking everything, and was tidying up the house, though it already seemed presentable. Jamie and Eden were somewhere off playing with Cass and AJ. Bucky and Sam were in the backyard situating the outdoor dining table and seats.

Now, as you sat gathered with everyone, it was nice to see that everything had come together. The rest of dinner carried on with stories and jokes being traded as if they were of the utmost value. When it came time for dessert, you helped Sarah bring out the cakes, pies, and cobblers to the serving table. Within a matter of seconds, a line formed. The children, especially, were ready to have their fill.

“Just so you all know,” Sam began after everyone had settled back into their seats. “My baby sister really did her thing with these desserts. Especially the pecan pie. She let me try some last night, and you’re lucky I even saved y’all any.”

“I believe that’s worth drinking to,” Ghalen said. He was a fisherman and long-time family friend of the Wilsons'. “To Sarah and her magic.” He raised his glass.

“To Sarah,” Everyone echoed.

She smiled and shook her head. “Thanks. There’s no other bunch I’d rather use up all my sugar for.”

Later that evening, everyone settled at the fire pit down by the lake. The tide lapped gently onto the shore and crickets chirped from their places tucked within the grass. Above, the sky was a rich blue, and the remaining sunlight casted the color onto the face of the water. There was no denying a certain stillness had settled over the group. But it wasn’t void of life. There was still plenty of that as people took turns sharing memories and expressing what they were thankful for. Every so often, Bucky would take a swig from his beer. The air of ease surrounding him had yet to fade. It was a good look on him.

At one point, Ghalen began to recount a fishing trip with his father from when he was a boy. He told the story with his whole body, eyes scanning and hands moving. His hair was a bold silver from age, and that only added to his wise demeanor. As Bucky listened, he leaned forward in interest with each new detail and twist. When the man finished, he clasped his hands together and looked around.

“How about some music?” He proposed. “I could go for a few tunes right about now. Hope I didn’t put anybody to sleep.”

“Absolutely not, Len. I don’t see a single shut eye,” Ciara, cousin to Sarah and Sam, spoke up. “You’re one of the best storytellers around these parts.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“'Course.” The smile she gave him was ethereal. “I say we crank up some classics for old times’ sake,” she said. “Hey, Ace, did you bring your portable speaker out here?” Ace was her teenage son.

“Yeah, it’s right here,” he picked it up from its place on the ground. “Anyone got a request?”

“It’s never the wrong time for some Marvin Gaye,” said one of Sarah’s friends.

“True,” Ciara chuckled. “I had 'Ain’t No Mountain High Enough' on repeat all last week. Everybody else down for Gaye?

There were no objections, and the very song she mentioned was settled upon. It featured Tammi Terell.”

As soon as the first few notes broke into the air, heads began to bob as feet tapped. Seeing it as a perfect opportunity to get attention, some of the children sprung up from their chairs and began grooving. Eden, being among them. She joined hands with one of the girls she’d been talking to all evening, and they hopped around and took turns spinning each other. A few of the adults jumped up as well, and when the chorus rolled around, they belted it into the night.

‘Cause baby, there ain’t no mountain high enough

Ain’t no valley low enough,

Ain’t no river wide enough

To keep me from getting to you, baby

Towards the end of the song, Jamie had taken your hand and coaxed you up for the remainder. With those pretty blue eyes that looked just like his father’s, it was impossible to resist. You smiled until your cheeks hurt. As the final notes drifted into the air, an applause rose from those who had remained seated. Bucky was one of them. He was relaxed back into his chair with his legs a part in a small man-spread. When he caught your gaze, you got butterflies from the adoration that was radiating straight to you.

If only the night and the feelings it fostered could’ve lasted forever. After losing yourself to the countless songs that went on to play, it eventually came time for the last one. A classic by The Temptations.

I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day

When it’s cold outside

I’ve got the mouth of May

I guess you’d say

What can make me feel this way

My girl, my girl, my girl

Sam shot Bucky a look. “Man, you better get up and dance with your girl for this one.” He then drunk from his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Bucky looked to where you were swaying to the rhythm with Jamie, Eden, Sarah, and her boys. Surely, you were the embodiment of beauty and grace. Suddenly, the music began to resonate on a level that compelled him to stand.

“You know what? I think I will.”

Given that your back was turned to him, you startled a bit when he wrapped his arms around your waist and began moving along with you.

“Daddy!” Eden chirped.

“Hey, sunshine.” He smiled down at her. “You guys mind if I steal this one away from you?”

Sarah offered a smile. “Not at all.” With that, Bucky pulled you away from the group.

You wrapped your arms around his neck upon settling in a spot. The light of the fire illuminated his face. “Hey, handsome.” You leaned in to give his lips a sweet peck.

“Hey,” he breathed. “I love watching you enjoy yourself.”

“Well, it sure is easy to have a good time around here. It’s like you can’t help but to.”

“I know. I’m really glad we were able to make the trip. Wouldn’t trade tonight for the world.”

“Me neither.”

I don’t need no money, fortune, or fame

I’ve got all the riches baby one man can claim

Well I guess you’d say

What can make me feel this way

My girl, my girl, my girl

Upon feeling a small tap on his lower back, Bucky turned around. Standing there was a girl with wide eyes and a head full of thick long curls.

“Are you two in love?” She asked.

His brows rose, but then he chuckled and spared you a quick look.

“We are,” he told her.

“That’s nice,” she mused. “I love a lot of people. In fact, everyone I love’s in this place.”

That was easy to believe. Delacroix was just the place to love and be in love. There would never be a big enough thank you to extend to the little community. But as surely as the sun sets at the end of each day, you were going to find a way to come close.

-

Songs featured (both are YouTube links): "Ain't No Mountain High Enough" by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell and "My Girl" by The Temptations.

Thank you so much for reading!

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[elifalvey]

In the four months that Rhiannon has been with them, Elijah had come to find out that he had many more worries as a father than he initially anticipated. Of course, he went into parenthood expecting to have certain hesitations — like if she was going to grow up healthy, and safe, and kind — but instilling her with a fear of the ocean based on one trip to the aquarium? That was a new one. And an oddly specific one at that. "Three or four years old?! No way, I don't believe that. That means everything that's ever happened to her before that time just . . . didn't happen in her mind, if that's the case." While he was positive that Rachel had meant her explanation in a comforting way, it was hard for him not fall into the spiral of a completely different problem. "I mean, I guess that's a good thing 'cause then she won't be traumatized later in life by that shark — and it's not like we really live near the ocean for it to be, like, a present problem anyway — but there's always the what if, you know? Her mum is the smartest person alive, so. I wouldn't be surprised if she's a superhuman baby or something and remembers every single detail about her life, including when she thought she would get eaten by sea life at four months old." Inhaling a deep breath, Elijah tried to smile off the negativity in his train of thought. It's way more for us than it is for Rhia, Rachel said, and he wanted to believe it. "Right, yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice." He stepped away from the stroller and moved towards his friend with extended arms, carefully taking his daughter into them and placing a kiss on the top of her head. "For my sake, I really hope you grow up to like fish, baby girl. Otherwise Baba might not have any sanity left." / @rachelhargrove.

It had been far too long since she'd had a baby in her life, everyone had grown up now. But now with Rhia, Rachel got to have a whole new time. She felt bad for monopolizing her time with Eli on his daughter, but how could he blame her when he'd helped reproduce such a precious little girl who she was talking to and babbling with and making faces with. Finally she turned her attention to one of her closest friends though as he began to talk to her. "Processing? I mean I guess she probably is just in awe with all the new things she's being introduced to, huh Rhi? I mean if she reached out and banged her hand against the glass, she'd probably know. Oh my gosh...Elijah, kids don't start to build core memories until they're three or four years old. This visit is way more for us than it is for Rhia. But I'm having a blast, and if Rhia has a whole tantrum right now she would not remember at all, would you my sweet little shark?" Her attention went back over to the sweet baby. She knew that she had far more experience with kids than Eli had up until this point, but now he was a father and he would surpass her experience soon enough. "Would you like to hold her, I could take a picture of you two looking at fishies together to send to Asli?" Another perk of freelancing at the moment she realized was that she could do this far more often.

@elifalvey

[earlgreydream]

enemies.

| bucky x reader | fluff |

requested by @fitzfiles​ enemies to lovers 

this is technically a highschool au, but only slightly. we love bucky being a loveable ass out here

Your eyes narrowed and you glared at Bucky. You couldn’t stand him. Bucky was popular, flirtatious, and an asshole. He was always flirting with you at school, and you always felt like he was trying to make a joke of you in front of everyone. On top of that, it made other girls envy you, tainting friendships with jealousy.

It seemed like you were the only one who didn’t want Bucky Barnes. 

“You’re such an ass!” You snapped at Bucky, who only laughed in response. You hated when he tilted his head to the side, the stupid smirk you loathed pulling at his lips. 

“Don’t be like that, doll.”

“I’ll do whatever I want! Leave me alone, I’m not going to fall at your feet like everyone else!” You stood up from the library where he had been absolutely intent on distracting you from finishing your homework, the reason for the fight in the first place.

You were the only one who didn’t give him every ounce of attention he desired, and he was determined to get it. 

You sat on your bed, a folder of history homework open in front of you. You studied with music softly in the background, needing a break from trying to study with Bucky bothering you every five seconds. 

“Y/N,” your mom called your name as she walked in the door. 

You looked up, setting down the document on World War II. Your father was behind her, and you grew uneasy, wondering what they possibly felt they needed to both talk to you about.

“We’re worried about you, dear.”

“Worried? Why?” you laughed, surprised by their explanation.

“We’re just concerned that you don’t have the same social life people your age have. You seem to always be up here, studying in your room. We want you to meet some people, and have some fun,” your father explained.

You were confused by the explanation. You spent most of your time at school, and around other students. You did have friends, but you also prioritized your grades. You certainly were not the hermit they were making you out to be.

“You don’t need to worry-”

“But darling, you’ve never dated. One of our friends has the most charming son, and we think he’d be perfect for you. We want to set you up.” Your mother was smiling, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Perfect for me?”

“Yes! He’s so charming, and he’s sweet. He’s also incredibly intelligent, his grades are wonderful. He travels a lot, you know, has that worldly kind of sense. And, he’s beautiful. We were thinking of setting the two of you up, having them over for dinner.”

You couldn’t deny that this sounded too good to be true. The boy they were describing sounded perfect for you, and although you cringed at the idea of your parents setting you up, you were intrigued.

“What is his name?”

“James!” She beamed, and you raised your eyebrows.

“I will go on one blind date with him, if you stop giving me a hard time about my social life.”

“One date. You can meet him at dinner tomorrow, and then the two of you must go on one date. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But try for us, honey.”

“I will, I promise,” you smiled at your parents, excited and nervous to meet your supposed dream-man. 

You dressed up for dinner once you were home from school. You’d never even seen this boy, and yet your tummy was filling with excited butterflies. Your name was called from downstairs, and you quickly ran down to meet them. 

You nearly tripped over yourself as you stopped dead in your tracks. You were met with an all-too-familiar silver gaze, and the smirk that made you so, so angry.

“Bucky.” 

Your voice was cold, and all of the butterflies shriveled up and died, the excitement fading from you. You were furious that you’d agreed to go on a date with him in addition to sitting through this dinner.

“You two know each other?” His mother asked, surprised.

“Quite well, actually. We have history together at school, right doll?” Bucky was trying not to laugh, only fueling your irritation. 

“It’s Y/N. And we’ve met, yes.” 

This motherfucker. 

Dinner was long and painful, and you were forced to listen to what a perfect prince everybody thought Bucky was. You were surprised to hear about his academic standing, one that competed with your own. It was clear by his expression that he didn’t want the news to get out that he wasn’t a complete anarchist. 

You cringed as your parents praised you too, unsure of who they were trying to impress. You were quiet, not giving a single damn about being polite to the boy you hated. 

“Why don’t the two of you go upstairs?” your mom suggested, and you sighed, holding back a massive eye roll. Being alone with Bucky was about last on the list of things you wanted to do.

You stood up under the pressure of four gazes, and Bucy followed you up the flight of stairs. He couldn’t contain his amusement for the situation, and you walked into your room and sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Did you know it was me?”

“No, I really didn’t. But I’m glad it is.” He almost sounded sincere.

Bucky looked around your room, taking in the soft lavender walls, and the white bedspread that you sat on top of. Everything was soft and sweet, like you. Fairy lights hung above the bed, casting a gentle glow over the room. Bucky thought you looked beautiful.

“Quit staring at me,” you snipped, pulling your knees up to your chest.

He smiled, stepping in from the doorway and sitting beside you on the bed. You were angry at yourself for noticing the way the lights seemed to make him look golden, glinting in the reflection of huge silver eyes.

“How could I not?” He breathed, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

No. No, this is not happening. You will not let yourself be seduced by this cocky asshole. 

“Save it for the date,” you rolled your eyes and he smirked. 

“You’re not looking forward to it?” Bucky asked, and you shook your head with a face.

“No, of course not.”

“Come on, I’ll show you a good time. You’ll probably even realize that you’re in love with me.” His grin was infectious, but you fought off the urge to smile back.

“In love with you? Hardly.”

“I’ll give you one night. You’ll change your mind.” 

“You seem confident,” you snarked, rolling your eyes at his arrogance.

“I always am.”

You watched him as his eyes traveled over the room, seeming to take everything in. Bucky noticed every small detail, including the sketch of daisies that leaned against the wall on top of your desk. 

When he was finally called away, he stood in front of you, leaning over you with one hand on the wrought iron bed frame. A soft smile broke onto his face, and you felt warmth spread through your chest, reaching up to your cheeks.

“Goodnight, doll.”

You scowled at the dress that was laid out in the end of your bed when you got home from school. You’d been dreading the date, especially when Bucky winked at you during history class. He didn’t make a show of embarrassing you in front of his friends. You hadn’t even heard gossip about it, so he must not have told anybody. 

You were a bit surprised, you thought that Bucky would seize the opportunity to be the subject of gossip and attention, dragging you into it with him. 

Your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you’d been set up for a friday date after school with Bucky. The doorbell rang, and you went to answer it, your eyes widening a bit when you saw him in jeans and a button down. 

Fuck, he was handsome. 

“Hi James.” 

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” he said honestly, and you couldn’t stop the warmth from blossoming on your cheeks. He held up a bouquet of daisies, and you bit back a smile, taking your favorite flowers from him. You realized he noticed the drawing, and something about that made you feel fuzzy inside. 

It was too bad you didn’t even like him.

“Let me set these down, thank you.” 

You put them in a vase on the table, and he followed you. 

“You didn’t tell everyone at school.” It was a statement, but you meant it as a question.

“Why would I? I knew you wouldn’t appreciate everyone in your business,” Bucky confessed. Despite the amusement he gained from getting on your nerves, Bucky did like you, and he did respect you. The idea of others participate in the teasing, more than just his bit of playfulness, upset Bucky.

He wanted you to like him. 

You followed Bucky outside to his yellow car, one that was sort of vintage. He didn’t drive to school, and you realized you had never seen his car, but it somehow fit him. You got in the passenger seat, and he handed you the chord to play your own music.

You nervously scrolled through your phone, deciding that the safest bet for music was bon iver, and he broke into a smile, leaning forward to turn up the stereo.

“I love this song,” Bucky grinned, surprising you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning forward and watching the buildings pass by as he drove you to an unknown location. 

“Just trust me.”

He parked and was opening your door for you before you could get out. You stepped out and took his outstretched hand, deciding you had to at least give this as much of an effort as he was. 

His hand was soft and he squeezed you gently as he led you inside the huge aquarium in the city. It was your favorite place to go, and you wondered how Bucky knew that. 

“You mentioned it once, in class,” he spoke as if he read your mind, or at least read the bright smile on your face.

“I can’t believe you remembered... Or that you even listened,” you laughed.

“I always listen.”

You walked through tunnels filled with colorful fish, and they swam around you on all sides, even under your feet. You gasped and pressed your hands to the glass, letting go of Bucky as you watched a sea turtle swim by. Bucky watched your delight, smiling at your excited squeal.

“Look!” you pointed, and he grinned.

“I see, it’s so cool,” he indulged you. 

You moved through the tunnel, into a room of separate tanks, all smaller and holding their own creatures. You struggled to see the clown fish in the top, even standing on your toes.

“What’re you doing, doll?”

“Trying to see the nemo fish, but-” you squeaked as Bucky’s hands went around your waist, and he lifted you up so you could see. You blushed and smiled, looking at the fish swimming around. He gently set you down, and you wrapped your hands around his arm, a little bit shyly.

The two of you spent hours looking at the creatures, and you let him wrap his arms around your waist as you stood and watched the jellyfish. 

“They’re so pretty!” you gasped, and Bucky could see the reflection in your wide eyes, and he couldn’t ignore how his heart raced when he looked at you.

You found yourself feeling the same way.

“This was great, James. I didn’t think you’d manage to win me over, but this is the best date I’ve ever been on,” you confessed shyly as you left, the sky already dark. He beamed at you, his silver eyes lighting up when you smiled at him.

“I’m so glad, but we’re not finished yet, doll.”

“You spoil me,” you giggled, and he pulled you to the car.

“Come on, or we’ll miss it,” he hurried you, laughing as he got behind the wheel. 

He drove to a park and got a blanket from the backseat, producing a basket that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Picnicking in the dark?”

“Hush and come with me,” he insisted, laying out the blanket on the grass and pulling the food out. 

You bit into a piece of fruit, leaning against his side. You gasped as fireworks started to go off overhead, and you looked at Bucky, who just smiled back at you. 

“I thought you’d like them.”

You watched the light and colors explode in the sky, enjoying the dinner he brought. You ended up leaning back against Bucky’s chest, wrapped in his jacket when you complained of being chilly. You couldn’t believe that over the course of a few hours, he had managed to work his way into your heart, and you were now in his arms.

“Do you want to come in and stay?” you asked Bucky as he pulled up in front of your house.

“I’m invited?”

“Yes.” 

He smiled, grabbing sweats from his trunk, explaining that he always had a change of clothes, on account of being an athlete. You teased him with a giggle, going inside with him and up to your bedroom. 

You changed into a pajama set and laid on your bed with him, the two of you staring up at the tiny, glittering fairy lights above you.

“You look perfect like this,” you whispered.

“Not as perfect as you.”

“What happens Monday? Do you go back to being an ass and I go back to hating you?” your voice was soft, and although you were joking, the fear behind it was real.

“I was hoping I could call you my girlfriend on Monday.”

You leaned over and kissed him, answering the question. When he kissed you back, it was like a million tiny fireworks exploding inside of you, instead of in the sky overhead. 

“You changed my mind in one night.”

[sambvcks]

crawl home to her, b.b. x reader

chapter one // body’s working on empty

summary: bucky isn’t as receptive to this new life of his as everyone had hoped. he’s cold, sharp-tongued, and closed off. except to the tenant across the hallway from him, who always wears pajamas and bakes a dozen too many of his favorite cookies

warnings: food, nothing too bad this chapter!

word count: 1.5k-ish

author’s note: i thought my marvel phase ended five years ago...here we are again. i haven’t written in awhile so please be kind! title and chapter titles taken from hozier’s ��work song’.

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Five minutes into their first session, Bucky decided he was going to make Dr. Raynor’s job as difficult as he possibly could.

It wouldn’t be an impossible task, seeing how this whole ordeal depended on him opening up and talking, two things that he had abandoned decades ago. Her unwavering stare was nothing more than a challenge, these fifty-minute sessions once a week were nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his lackluster day to day routine. He would play along, do whatever exercises she asked, and feign stability until he never had to see her again.

“Since this is our first session together, we’ll take it easy.” She promised with a forced upturn of her lips before whipping out her notebook.

Suddenly, it felt like he was encased in bulletproof glass in Berlin again. He remembered that the last time he had been forced into receiving psychiatric help, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. His chin fell to his chest, hands wringing together as he thought of any excuse to request a different doctor. 

“Let’s begin.”

It was already getting too hot to wear leather gloves and his heavy jacket. New York’s heatwave was supposed to be the highest on record this year and while kids popped open fire hydrants in the street, Bucky would be settled on the hardwood floor in the back corner of his apartment, waiting.

Waiting for what, he wasn’t quite sure.

It was a fairly nice apartment, newly renovated and practically barren. Government issued and funded, of course, and he had spent the first night pulling the furniture from the walls to the center of the room in search of bugs and cameras. He found thirty-four, destroyed them under a rolling pin, and they hadn’t come to replace them. Message received.

The one thing he really liked about the apartment building were his neighbors. The price tag for a one bedroom was substantial to say the least and only older couples could really afford it. No children, no dogs, no outsiders. The only break from his undisturbed routine would be occasionally helping Mrs. Johnson down the hall carry her groceries as she struggled to get the door unlocked with her brittle hands.

They affectionately called him James and the older women were quick to get a hold of his arms, saying things like “They don’t make them like you anymore, James!”. He swallowed the bile prickling at the back of his throat as he nodded, and they moved on to telling him about their single granddaughters.

It was almost nice, his routine. Almost.

Outside of those small encounters, he spent most of his waking hours jogging in the park and cooking the same three meals. He had his appointment every Wednesday with Dr. Raynor, but that was it. He’d take two trains back to his apartment and wouldn’t emerge again until he needed groceries two days later.

It was when he was returning from one of his biweekly grocery trips, a paper bag settled on his hips, that he spotted you outside his door.

He stilled in the hallway, taking a quick step back to peek around the corner without being spotted. His breath stalled, his ears picking up your soft humming and the crinkle of plastic as you set a bundle of cookies at his doorstep, the only one without a mat. His eyes flicked to the other doors, where identical bags of cookies sat propped up, tied with blood red ribbons.

His shoulders relaxed. No threat.

The bottom of his grocery bag suddenly gave way, fruit rolling in every direction. Bucky fell to his knees, glove clad hands snatching up everything he could reach as quickly as he could manage. You were faster, though, and scooped up a plum that had rolled your way, offering it over as he tried to balance the rest of his groceries in his arms.

“Thanks.” He was quick to sweep past you, hand digging in his pockets for his key.

“James, right? Ms. Robinson downstairs is like, in love with you.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Dr. Raynor’s instructions from their last session rang in his head, as much as he tried to tune her out: make connections. “You can call me Bucky.” He cleared his throat. “And Mrs. Robinson is far too good for me.”

“Bucky it is then.” You trailed him down the hallway, “Y/N.”

Bucky tried to sneak a glance at you from the corner of his eyes, which was harder to inconspicuously do now that he had gotten a haircut and couldn’t hide his wandering eyes behind long tresses. Young was Bucky’s first thought. much younger than the other renters in the building. Bright was next, followed by much too smiley for a Tuesday morning.

Pretty, he admitted as he turned his back to unlock his door. Maybe in another life he would have lingered in the hall, his so-called effortless charm seeping through as you swooned at the very thought of a date with James Buchanan Barnes. But that life was long gone, and instead he rushed to retreat.

“Oh, don’t forget these.” You swooped down to collect the bundle of cookies you had left at his door, handing them to the hand that wasn’t delicately balancing the pile of groceries he still held against his impossibly broad shoulders. “Oatmeal raisin, super-secret family recipe.”

He was back in the doorway of his ma’s kitchen, watching his little sister balance on a wobbling stool as she struggled to crack and egg with her little fingers. He can so distinctly see the pale green of the cabinets, remember the fight his parents had when she begged for that shade of green while his dad had wanted white. Of course, she won.

“These are your brother’s favorite.” His ma whispered to his sister; her flour covered hands reaching for the age faded index card with their grandmother’s script detailing the ingredients. “Our family’s recipe. One day, you will make these for your children. And your children’s children.”

Rebecca, still so young and with a hatred for smelly boys deep in her bones, giggled at the mere thought as her fingers fished out the bits of eggshell that snuck their way into the bowl. She wiped it away on the spare apron tied twice around her waist, much too big for her. 

Bucky would never see her grow into it. He would be drafted only a few months later.

In the meantime, he would bundle half a dozen of them in a tea towel and split them with Steve on the walk to the movie theater. Steve would begrudgingly admit that Buck’s ma made the best cookies, but his made the best brisket. They’d sneak in through the back door and do it all again the next weekend, until they ran out of weekends together.

“Oatmeal raisin are my favorite.” He admitted, accepting your offering like a stray cat does to the first scrap of food from a stranger.

“I think you’re the only person under the age on one hundred to ever say that.” You teased, backing away to the door adjacent to his, “Anyway, don’t tell me things like that. I’m a stress baker and with finals coming up…” You winced at the image of the dozens of batches you would surely be whipping up in the coming weeks.

“Finals?”

“Law school, one semester left.” You fished your own keys from your back pocket. Bucky barely held in the scoff at the shiny Spider-Man keychain that dangled from your fingers. “You?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t been in school in what feels like…a century.”

“Well, I’m all alone here and as much as I would love to, I can’t eat everything that I bake. So, expect a few dozen muffins and cookies every few days.”

“No arguing from me, doll.”

You both lingered in the small hallway, only a few steps apart, each leaning against your respective doors. Keys in each hand, with no intention of using them any time soon.

“Law school, you said? How do you afford a place like this?” Bucky was sure he was the only recently pardoned fugitive under this room.

“Well, this used to be my grandma’s apartment and it was handed down to me in a maybe no so legal way. If the landlord asks, I’m an eighty-year-old woman who doesn’t know how to work her answering machine.”

He huffed a laugh, mostly because that wasn’t particularly far from how he felt with today’s tech. The flip phone that Dr. Raynor had described as archaic sat heavy in his back pocket with only three names programed into his contacts. Don’t get him started on his television.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

With that, you each stepping into your respective apartments. Bucky stalled at his door for a moment, listening as you locked and dead bolted your door behind you. He sighed, dumping his half-ruined groceries on his barren kitchen island.

The next day, he’d have another appointment with Dr. Raynor. This time when he’d say I’m trying, as he did each week, it wouldn’t be a complete lie. His phone buzzed in his back pocket.

2 New Messages

From: Sam

You coming up this weekend?

Don’t ignore me this time. He’s getting worse, Buck.