#i want sun :\ heatstroke and overheating be damned or whatever

[aikoiya]

LoZ: TotK - The Desert Merchant Set

Do not misunderstand me, I very much like the Desert Voe Set. I just don't think it's the sort of thing that a non-Gerudo should wear.

And I say this, not for any sort of "cultural appropriation" bs (as people in-general seem extremely eager to share their cultures so long as people do it respectfully), but because there's no damn way that Link isn't hella sunburned after running around in the desert with only a fucking spauldron to keep his torso covered! I do not care if the infusion on the clothes say "Heat Resist," that getup isn't protecting anyone from sun poisoning!

If it were up to me, I'd make the Sand Boots part of a full set where Link wears a burnus & shemagh (maybe even put those terms in the description so we have more canon Gerudo terms). But keep the boots as Sand Mobility while the other parts are heat resist. Or, make the whole thing Sand Mobility, but then when the set is upgraded to lvl 2, it gives Heat Resist. Or vice versa.

A burnus being a white or beige hooded wool cloak with a split in the front & a shemagh being a cotton scarf that you wrap around your face. Add to that a pair of leather goggles that he'd normally wear on the top of his head & whenever you walk into a sandstorm or just a thin mesh fabric sewn into it to cover the eyes. Either way, Link will have a little animation where he lifts the shemagh to cover the lower half of his face (& possibly lower his goggles to cover his eyes to keep the sand out of them).

Then, just do whatever with the top. Go full Gerudo aesthetic with the top maybe with the full burnus, shemagh, (& goggles) together as the headpiece. Make it bright with interesting patterns. The bright colors & pretty patterns could contrast nicely with the more muted tones of the burnus. Though, I'd rename the Sand Boots to Gálkhutwàïr Adhien, which I hc means Sandstrider Boots in Gerudàn.

The top itself, though, I'm thinking about some sort of demi-curiass over a cotton top with vibrant colors & Gerudo patterns.

I do know that I saw some great art for a design for the shemagh!

(Problem, the artist was a fucking dick! And since it's obvious that they wouldn't want me to use their art, I'm not going to. I'll see what I can do to make one of my own.)

Call it the Desert Bandit or Desert Merchant or Dunerunner Set.

I'm just saying, the Gerudo have obviously adapted to be able to handle the sorts of extremes that come with living in the desert.

The Hylians, on the other hand, have not. They are white-white!

Well... I suppose the residents of Lurelin aren't, but you get my point.

For that matter, I would expect the Rito to only come out at night in the desert for fear of dying of heatstroke in the day! I'm not being facetious here! People actually legitimately die of overheating in the desert IRL & we don't even have feathers! It must be like an oven for Rito!

I mean, they're from Hebra, so their feathers are likely specifically geared towards heat retention rather than dispersal.

It could've also been interesting to do something similar with the Snow Boots. Because it's implied that there are Gerudo living in the Highlands, so why not have a full set to represent them too?

Something Nordic could be very cool.

Or Tibetan! I see the Highland Gerudo having a more Tibetan style to them!

LoZ Wild Masterlist

LoZ Cultural Masterlist

[shreddedparchment]

You’re My Mission Pt.04

Take Off Your Pants and Your Shirt

9/23/2018

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 4,148

Masterpost

Warnings: language

A/N: I literally posted part 3 and then just turned around and went to write part 4. I couldn’t help it. I needed to get it out. These two...they’re doing things to me. I hope you enjoy this second post in one day! Let me know what you think! xoxo

Boy did you need the extra sleep on your half-day. It was much appreciated and as your beads vibrate to wake you up at half past eleven you groan because it was definitely not enough. Your body is stiff. It hurts. Every little movement you make tears your muscles apart. You lay in bed for half an hour whining about the pain in your limbs, but you know you can’t stay there. You have to get up.

Unlike every other morning, Sergeant Barnes doesn’t call you today. You feel a mixture of relief, worry, and disappointment that he hasn’t called yet. As you slowly get dressed, hating your body for hurting you, you stare at your beads as you wait for them to ring like they always do. But they don’t.

He’s probably hoping you'll oversleep and be late! Jerk won’t get what he wants. You also have a need to probe him about last night.

On your way out, Aman is already waiting for you with a to-go plate of coconut rice and liver. You hate liver, but Aman doesn’t give you an option to give it up. You need the protein and because of the bruises on your arms, he says you need the iron.

“Don’t let him walk all over you, Y/N. He’s only a man.” Aman calls out after you as you begin to walk a bit faster, the urgency to get to the west field and not be late overcoming you.

“But he has a metal arm.” Joshua counters.

“So, what? I have a metal gun.” Aman argues.

“I saw him stop bullets with his metal arm. You think a gun would stop him?”

“Then I will shoot him in the legs.”

You’re half laughing as you finally walk out of earshot, amused by the idea of your friends planning to injure Sergeant Barnes to defend you. You devour your lunch quickly and then move into a painful and slow jog. It’s a good way to get your muscles warmed up. You don’t push yourself and just keep moving at a moderate pace. As you reach the west field, you see Sergeant Barnes. He’s wearing a pair of grey fatigue pants and a white t-shirt through which you can see the outline of his metal arm. You didn’t know it extended so far into his shoulder.

He’s leaning against the same Warka tree he and Cap had been talking under the day before. You also see the retreating back and swishing dark ponytail of a female cadet moving around the tree and out of sight.

Something feels different. You reach up and rub at your chest once, wishing you could push out the way it tightens as you approach your commanding officer.

He looks up at you, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m on time.” You inform him.

He scowls, unimpressed with your punctuality.

The day is hotter than normal and your chest heaves as you try and catch your breath. “What are we doing today?”

Sergeant Barnes pushes away from the tree and moves around into the sun, onto a flatter part of the field. He squats down, his hands between his legs where he points. “Lay down. We’re going to work your core.”

“Sit ups?!” You groan, thinking about how much this is going to hurt tomorrow. You’ll be unable to move for sure. You can barely get around now. “Are you kidding?”

“Now.” He orders.

You sigh and move to where he’s squatting. Your heart suddenly shifts into a quick nervous beat. Before you can lose your nerve, you let your lips open. “Why did you bring me antibiotic ointment last night?”

“I didn’t.” He replies without missing a beat. His voice is even, as hard as ever. It doesn’t give anything away. He doesn’t even look up at you.

“Yes, you did. I found it in the brush outside my hut compound.” You argue.

Your eyes are glued to his face as you slowly lower yourself between his legs, placing your shins where his hands can easily grab them.

“I didn’t bring you anything.” He insists. “Hurry up and get to it.”

“I found it, you liar. Why did you bring-” You gasp as he suddenly grabs your legs, glaring at you with his blue eyes, and he tightens both hands around your shins making them ache. “Ow, not so hard, jackass!”

“Down.” He growls.

You lay back, crossing your arms over your chest to keep from using them as a crutch to get back up.

“Up.” He growls again, and your own face contorts into a tight-lipped scowl.

You cannot believe that he’s actually denying the fact that he brought you some ointment! What was so bad about admitting than he cared a bit? You were wounded, and you were his cadet. Wasn’t it normal to care if your inferiors were injured or not?

“Down.” He says again.

“Up.”

“Down.”

“Faster. Up!”

“Ugh…” You groan, pushing your body to move faster. It was already burning. And it’s so hot out!

You manage to keep it up for the first two sets of twenty reps but then you collapse, you’re going to get heatstroke.

“Can't we move into the shade? It’s too damn hot.” You complain gasping for air.

“Fine.” Sergeant Barnes snaps, impatient with you.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch him walk around and behind you back to the Warka tree. You honestly had really thought he was going to tell you no. That you needed to suck it up.

You’re so surprised you’re speechless as you get up and follow him to the shade. He picks an even spot and then squats down again and waits for you to get back down.

You’re huffing your breaths you’re so tired. And it’s still so hot even in the shade. You stand before him, about to get down on the ground again but your overheating body protests.

“It's too hot.” You insist and because you have no other way of cooling down you begin to undo the buttons of your tan fatigue jacket.

Sergeant Barnes blinks as he looks up to see what you’re doing. You hear the surprise in his voice, you don’t see it because you’re too busy trying to shed a layer to look at his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” He demands, startled.

“It's too hot. I should have brought some water.” Your hands are still injured and they’re hurting so much. You should have taken a pain killer.

They shake as you undo each button, struggling to get them apart.

“You can’t just take off your jacket. Just roll up the sleeves. You’ll get bitten by bugs!” Sergeant Barnes sounds more panicked as he continues to stare up at you.

You can't see him clearly as you focus on the last button. He’s blurry but you can tell that he’s looking at you.

“Since when have you ever given a shit if I get bitten by bugs or not?” Finally, the last button is freed and you yank the jacket open. Your chest heaving, you finish pulling the jacket off, which leaves you in your own white t-shirt.

But you’re sweating so much you hadn’t thought about the slightly see-through nature of the shirt.

You gasp as the hot air hits your sweaty torso and you’re instantly cooled.

“Oh my God, why is it so fucking hot?”

You relish in the air, letting your jacket fall off to the side as you bask in the now cool shade of the tree. For several minutes you stand there and just let your body temperature even out. You already have wrecked hands, you don’t really want heat stroke too.

After about eight minutes or so, you realize that Sergeant Barnes has been unnaturally quiet. He’s probably glaring at you, angry that you’re taking so damn long.

You look down at him and find him with a fixed expression, his eyes shifting nervously as they stare straight at your feet.

Maybe he’s so annoyed he can’t take it and he’s trying not to hit you himself.

“Sorry,” You suddenly mutter and slowly, carefully with your injured hands, lower yourself onto the floor. You have to grab onto his shoulders to keep from falling back quickly because your legs are still weak.

Once you’re sitting, his blue eyes, almost completely black from how dilated his pupils are, stare into your own. There's a frenzy you don’t really understand but you, again, assume that he’s so upset with you that he’s concentrating very hard to keep from killing you with his bare hands.

You frown, nervous because you don't want him to kill you. Then you lay yourself back, scooting yourself towards him as you bend your knees so that you can continue your sit ups. Your back has touched the floor for no more than three seconds before Sergeant Barnes is suddenly up on his feet, marching away from you with a huff. His fists are clenched so tight the knuckles on his normal hand are white. His metal hand groans as he rubs the metal of his fingers in his fist.

“Where are you going?!” You demand, confused and now on the floor with no one to hold your legs.

“To get you some damn water.” He shouts back at you.

You watch him stomp away until he’s small and then lay your head back, allowing yourself to relax for a bit.

“Get me some water?” Why was he suddenly caring if you are dehydrated? Whatever the reason, you’re not going to complain.

You shut your eyes. You’re not sure how long you lay that way, eyes shut, gently breathing.

“Oh God, Y/N? Are you alright?” Cap's voice reaches your ears and your heart does a little happy flip. You smile and open your eyes when you feel him over you.

“Hey, Cap.” You smile up at him and see the relief wash over his face as he sits himself beside you on the ground. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a tight light blue shirt. You can see the curve of his muscles in the way the fabric hugs his torso.

“You scared me. And please, Y/N, call me Steve. I feel weird you calling me Captain all the time.”

You giggle stupidly. “Oh, okay, Steve.”

He smiles more widely at the way you say his name.

“What are you doing out here by yourself? Where's Bucky?” He wonders, then his eyes fall on your hands. “Oh jeez, is that from yesterday? I told him to take it easy.”

He grabs your wrists and because you make to sit up, he helps and pulls you up the rest of the way. You shimmy back a bit so that you’re not sitting so close to his face. Your fluttering tummy can't take it.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, taking your left hand and slowly turning it over so that it rests in his hand, palm up.

“Yeah. But I’m fine. The rest of my body is also in agonizing pain, so my hands don’t feel so bad.”

“Well that’s not good either. I think you need a break, yeah?”

“Really?” You sigh lightly. This man is an angel.

“Really.” He nods, smiling at you with a beautiful half smile.

“Steve?” Sergeant Barnes's surprised voice wafts over the two of you, making you both turn to look at him.

That same frenzy from before is in his eyes but it's mixed in with his scowl now. In his normal hand he’s holding a black canteen. You can hear it sloshing, full of water.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“Is that for me?” You point at the canteen and smile, so happy that for once, Sergeant Barnes is showing he might give a shit what happens to you.

He frowns at you and flicks his wrist at you, throwing the canteen so that it falls at your feet roughly.

You frown at him. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself?

“Asshole.”

Steve reaches down to your feet and pulls the canteen up for you. “Here you go.”

He hands you the canteen and you beam at him as you twist the top and take a drink. It’s like life itself. It is life itself.

“Why are you here, Steve? We're still training.”

“I think it's time for a break. Y/N needs a few days for these hands to heal. Wanda and I are going to watch a movie. She needs a break too. How about the two of you come over? We'll have dinner too.”

Your eyes brighten and you’re so excited you cough and sputter around the water in your mouth.

“Can't you even drink water correctly?” Sergeant Barnes shoots at you.

“Please, Sergeant Barnes, can't we go?” Would pleading with him even work?

You decide to try anyway, you really wanna see a movie with Steve and meet Scarlet Witch. If you get to go, this will be the first time since your parents were taken from you that you’ll do anything even remotely fun. You’re so eager to go that your feel your desperation begin to bubble up into your eyes. You’re not going to cry, but you’re begging Sergeant Barnes.

“Please? I haven’t done anything fun since…since…please, Sergeant Barnes? Steve said it was alright.”

Sergeant Barnes considers you as you plead with him, his brow furrowed as his blue eyes search yours, reading the desperation in them. When you say Steve’s name, his eyes turn a little hard.

“Steve?” He asks, you’re not sure if he’s repeating after you or calling Steve for confirmation.

“Come on, Buck, it’s one day.”

Sergeant Barnes sighs and shakes his head. “Fine.”

You can’t help it as your lips curve into a large smile, brightening your face in a way that it hasn’t lit up in a while. “Yes!”

You don’t think and pull Steve in for a quick hug. He hugs you back and for a moment you’re soaring.

“Alright, come on, get up.” Sergeant Barnes orders.

Steve helps you up, careful not to hurt your hands as he does. As soon as you’re standing your jacket is around your shoulders. You turn around to see Sergeant Barnes standing behind you, his arms still extended with the throw he’d used to put it on you.

“It’s too hot.” You complain and move to take it off, but he yanks it off of you before you can.

“Fine. Come on. We’ll meet you at your place, Steve.” He moves around Steve until he’s in front of you and then reaches back to grab your left wrist to pull you along after him. When he’s sure you’ll follow, he lets go.

“Where are we going?” You wonder, glancing back at Steve as he walks off towards civilization.

“The training center.” Sergeant Barnes informs you.

You drink from your canteen as you walk but don’t question him again. You’re so happy that you get the afternoon and night off that you’re not going to risk making him angry. He could change his mind and make you run laps.

The training center seems abandoned and it’s only then that you realize the reason for this is because it’s Friday afternoon and everyone has already ended their sessions in favor of going out to have fun. There are only a handful of dedicated people still using either the gym equipment of the high-tech facility or training in simulations.

Sergeant Barnes leads you up to the third floor where you have never been. It’s mostly an indoor pool but there are also an array of rooms built specifically for physical therapy. It’s into one of these rooms that Sergeant Barnes leads you. There are three large heated in-floor tubs. The water is bubbling as he leads you past them. Behind each of these hot tubs is another deep soaking tub, smaller, like a regular bathtub but metal. This is where he stops, by the last metal tub.

He turns to you and gently pulls your left hand up and begins to undo the bandages. They’re dirty already and do need changing. He does the right hand too, his fingers gently grazing the unwounded skin of your hands. It makes your heart thump heavily again. You blink, trying to ignore the way your stomach seems to twist nervously. As he tosses the dirty bandages in the trashcan he looks up at you.

“Wait here.” He instructs and walks through a swinging metal door. He reappears a few minutes later with new bandages.

“I couldn’t find any antibiotic ointment.” He admits and places the bandages on the small table by the tub.

He’s bent over, messing with some towels. You very carefully reach into your pocket, gasping when your larger cut touches your pants.

As he turns to see what made you gasp you very pointedly throw the small tube of antibiotic ointment he’d thrown into the brush at him so that it goes soaring through the air and with a small thunk hits him on the side of the head. He reaches down to catch it and then looks up at you with a frown as he realizes what you threw.

“Thanks.” He grumbles. “Come here.”

He gestures at you with his metal hand and you move over towards him. He takes your wrist and pulls you around to sit on the bench beside the towels. Very gently he holds your right hand still in his metal hand first and uses his normal one to clean and apply new ointment and bandages to your palms. He does it slowly, taking his time to make sure that your wounds are dressed properly. Once the bandages are in place he pulls over a pair of plastic gloves which he then seals around your wrists with rubber bands.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You wonder, your heart fluttering as you watch his usually scowling face shift into an easy smile. It makes his face look so different that for a moment you’re in awe of the transformation it makes to his entire image.

“You think I’m being nice to you?” He looks up at you, his lips curved in a half smile of his own. You realize that he’s smirking at you. Definitely not a half smile like the one that Steve had given you earlier. You’re suddenly struck with a cold fear as you think about what he’s planning. He’s so amused with you that this can only be bad. “Get up.”

You do. He helps you, holding you by the wrists. When you’re on your feet he takes his hands and places them on his hips as he stares mischievously into your eyes.

“You wearing your issued undergarments?” He asks.

Your heart begins to pound again. You frown and consider not answering but you want to go meet Scarlet Witch and watch a movie! “Yes.”

“Good.” He says with that same smirk. “Take off your pants and your shirt.”

“Excuse me?” You reach up and grab at your shirt. You’re so nervous suddenly that you don’t even feel the pain from your hands.

“Sstrriiip.” He says, popping his ‘P’.

“No.” You protest, frowning up at his face which suddenly shifts into an expression of mocking.

“Don’t flatter yourself, cadet. You’re definitely not my type.” He moves around you, making you flinch as he passes you, and begins to load the tub with ice from a dispenser already attached. “Strip down to your skivvies so you can ice your muscles. You don’t want to be even more sore tomorrow, do you?”

You realize now what he’s doing, and you feel your face go hot.

“You’re not my type either.” You undo your pants first and let them fall around your ankles before you step out of them, your boots giving you a little trouble. Then you remove your white t-shirt and let it fall with your pants. You’re left standing in your grey, standard issue sports bra and boy short underwear.

You watch him work, filling the tub and checking the temperature. You feel so exposed standing there in your underwear that you shift from side to side to keep your nerves from overwhelming you. “How much longer?” You ask him.

His shoulders go suddenly tense and then he relaxes. “It’s done.”

He stands up straight then turns around to look at you. His eyes scan you from head to toe and you shift nervously as your heart pounds so fast and loud you’re sure he can hear it. His eyes stop at your feet. “Sit down.”

You do as he says, unsure of what to really do with yourself. He undoes the laces of your boots then he tosses them aside along with your socks.

“I gotta go get you some more clothes. Get in and just soak until I come back. Got it?” He scoops up your clothes and begins to move towards the exit.

“You’re not going to leave me here without any clothes like in the movies, are you?” This is seriously a worry for you. You don’t know what his smirk meant before.

He turns back to look at you and shrugs, his face deadly serious. “Maybe.” He gives you that mischievous smirk again and disappears from the room.

You hesitate for a few minutes before you finally manage to find the courage to lower yourself into the ice bath.

“Oh my god, oh shit, oh jesus!” You gasp, your breathing labored as you lower yourself into the ice. You struggle to regain control of your breathing and continue to gasp as your body soaks. Eventually you lower your arms in as well—except for your hands of course—and allow the sore muscles to soak in the ice.

Sleeping is out of the question. Your entire body is on alert at first and then it begins to numb out. It’s been almost ten minutes when your beads begin to ring. You hold your shaking palm up and Sergeant Barnes is suddenly projected on your palm.

“You still alive?”

“Y-y-y-yes.” You shiver.”

He nods. “Okay, get out. I’ll be there shortly.”

“O-k-k-k-kay.” Your bead rolls back into place and you slowly begin to get out. It’s such a struggle because you can’t really use your hands to push yourself up that you’re still half in the bath when Sergeant Barnes walks back in.

“Why are you not out yet? You wanna get hypothermia?” He moves over to you, depositing the clothes he’d brought on the bench beside the towels.

“I c-c-c-couldn’t get a g-g-ood g-g-rip.” You explain, your teeth chattering so loudly you’re sure they’ll break.

He reaches out for you, grabbing your wrists to help you up completely. Once you’re standing he helps you out of the tub, supporting your weight as you carefully, timidly step on the floor. 

“Stop shaking.” He says, amusement heavy in his tone.

Your body is shaking so violently from the cold that he actually laughs. Genuinely. It’s a snort at first, like a laugh caught in his throat, and then he just laughs.

He turns back and grabs a towel. He snaps it open then throws it around you. You have to duck a little as his arms come around you to wrap the towel before he pulls it closed just in front of your chest. He reaches with his normal hand and rubs the back of your shoulder a bit to try and warm you, but then brings his hand back to hold the towel closed tighter. It’s so natural you have a hard time believing that this Sergeant Barnes is the same man who has been training you the past few weeks.

You stand there, shivering, staring at his chest as he finishes his laugh.

Finally, you look up at him as he tightens the towel around you again, pulling you just a little closer. He’s not letting go and there’s less than a foot between you already.

He looks down at you, smiling—really smiling this time, not smirking. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, his cheeks tight, his lips relaxed, and his eyes are so blue you feel your chest tighten as the atmosphere changes dramatically.

You’re afraid to talk, you’ll shatter it, whatever this is. You don’t want to shatter it. The butterflies in your stomach feel good.

You continue to shiver, your hands trapped between your chest and his hands.

His smile softens as he continues to stare down at you. His breathing also changes, slowing down but becoming deep breaths instead of shallow ones. And then all of a sudden, his smile is gone. He stares down at you with hard eyes. His scowl returns.

“Get dressed.” He orders coldly and forces the towel into your hurting hands before he storms out of the room leaving you in a confused and disappointed stupor.

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