#like i cant tell you have much she and sam mean to me like

[saltnsugarbear]

first blue-eyed person to Big Brown Eyes!!!

[tteotlma]

Sugar and Skin

5. Unspoken Proximity || Previous - Next

A grocery run leads Bucky straight into familiar territory except this time, outside of the café, outside of routine, she feels different. More real. More tangible in a way that unsettles him.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (8kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI; 18+ MDNI; mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol, drinking, lingering touches, close proximity, unspoken intentions, introspection a/n: omg sorry guys... i didn't know what to write for this chapter and idk if u can tell LOLLLL i also kinda got lost a little bit writing and rewriting so.. if u can tell just pretend u cant ty. anywhoo enjoy 8k words of writing!!

“Thanks for coming so quick guys.” Steve sat you guys in his waiting area, allowing you and Sam to sit on the loveseat against the window display, while he sat on the armchair resting against the wall perpendicular to the sofa. The coffee table in the center was littered with papers, and folders. 

“No problem, I’m just glad we’re able to finally talk.” You sat on the side closest to him, and he gave you a small smile. 

“What’s all this?” Sam gestured to the mess scattered in front of you. 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.” Steve’s tone suddenly changed, and his eyebrows drew together. A sudden wave of anxiety was building in your stomach, but before you could say anything he continued. 

“Well you see, somehow things have sort of shifted,” The words come out of his mouth slowly, as if he’s trying to think of what to say as he’s saying it. “And well…” He rubs his palms on his jeans. 

“Oh my god Steven, just spit it out!” You accidentally barked, the wave in your stomach finally crashing into an ocean of apprehension of all the things that could possibly come out of his mouth. 

He jumped in his seat. 

“It’s just becoming a lot more than I anticipated, I’m worrying it’s becoming too much.” The words fly out of his mouth. 

“I’m…” You pause to look at him, his eyebrows are still knit together, ”Unbelievably underwhelmed.” You deflate in your seat. Sam lets out a laugh. 

“What are you talking about?!” Steve panics moving closer to the edge of his seat to pick at the loose papers. 

“What are you talking about?” You sit up watching him scramble. 

“Betty—you know the one from that crafts store down on Narrow Blvd.—“

”Knotty by Nature.” Both you and Sam speak at the same time. 

“Right, well she heard what was happening and decided to take it upon herself to invite all these groups she’s somehow affiliated with,” He grabs a paper off the table and begins to read it aloud. “Filthy hands club, Pounded Clay Association, Neon Noir, The Indigo Hour Society—“

”Jeez, who didn’t she invite?” Sam scoffed, whether he was being facetious or not was unknown. 

“I’m more focused on what it is these clubs actually are.” You said, repeating the groups names he’s listed so far. 

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that her sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong has now turned something small into something drastically huge.” Steve put his head in his hands. 

You watched him for a second before giving a small side eye to Sam, who quickly returned the look. 

“Let me get this straight,” Sam started, “You’re upset because you’re going to be getting potential customers?” 

A second passes, no sound is made save for the air conditioner softly whirring. Steve lifts his head. 

“You think I’m an idiot?” He suddenly gets serious and you take in a deep breath to mask your laugh. 

“I think what Sam means is that shouldn’t you be looking at this like it’s a good thing? Why are you freaking out?” 

“Because I had planned for this to be a simple thing you know—a few close friends, a handful of walk-ins, some drinks, some music. But now, thanks to Betty it’s turning into a whole-ass networking event.”

“Isn’t that sort of to be expected?” Sam asked. Steve narrowed his eyes at the man beside you. Before Steve could say anything you spoke up. 

“What he means is.. what’s the big deal?” You try to dig your friend out of the growing hole he’s finding himself in, but it turns out you dove headfirst beside him instead.

Steve huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back on his seat. “You two are so damn helpful, really.” He shot you both a look before rubbing a hand over his jaw. “The big deal is that Betty’s list of groups didn’t just bring in a few old people—it brought in everyone,” He lets out a panicked sob (definitely on the brink of a tantrum) “Now instead of a chill small thing—which I wanted—I’m now anticipating artists, painters, curators, and god knows who else all expecting some kind of official event.” 

You and Sam exchanged another glance, but this time you held your tongue letting the grown man pout and whine. 

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And thanks to the flyer she made, people are expecting food.” His gaze flicked to you pointedly.

You blinked. “You mean… more than just desserts?” 

Steve nodded, exhaling sharply. “Yeah… and I know I already asked for your help the other day, and I hate to ask for more, but—“ 

“You should hate to ask for more,” Same cut in, crossing his arms. 

Steve shot him a glare before looking back at you, his expression softening just slightly. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t trust you, and I know you love a challenge.” He gave you a weak smile. 

You pressed your lips together, pretending to consider it, even though your excitement had already begun bubbling under the surface. It was true, you did love a challenge. 

It had been ages since you got to flex your actual culinary skills—pastries were your specialty and of course your passion, but you couldn’t lie that savory was always a tempting mistress. 

Steve saw the shift in your expression and immediately leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend like you’re not already swimming with ideas.” 

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “I hate you.” 

“You adore me.”

”Debatable.” 

Sam scoffed. “Unbelievable. I hope you know she’s about to carry this entire thing.”

Steve lifted a hand, grinning. “And that’s why I asked.” 

You started grabbing the strewn about papers. “I keep forgetting under all that ink and jewelry you’re just a baby at heart.” You joked, replaying his dramatic behavior in your head. 

Steve rolled his eyes, but the grin didn’t leave his face. “Yeah, yeah. laugh it up.” 

You smirked, stacking the last of the papers into a neater pile. “I’m just saying—big, bad tattoo artist panicking over a party? You’d think you were planning a wedding.” 

Sam let out a loud laugh, slapping his knee. “Damn, she’s got a point.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes at both of you but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “I just want it to be right.” His voice was quieter now, more honest.

You softened slightly, patting his knee. “It will be.”

For a moment, the three of you just sat there, the weight of the conversation finally settling into something manageable. Sure the event was bigger than what Steve had planned but with the way things were coming together, it was starting to feel real.

You tapped your fingers on your chin. “Okay, if we’re doing this, we should do it right.”

Steve sat up again, nodding eagerly. “Agreed.”

Sam raised a brow. “What’s the plan, boss?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “Well, for one, we should probably have more than just pastries. If people are drinking, they’ll need actual food too—something yummy and more than just a bowl of chips and a cup of dip. 

Steve’s eyes practically sparkled. “God, I knew asking you was a good idea.”

You grinned. “You owe me, Rogers.”

Sam whistled low. “Man, he’s getting off easy. If it were me, I’d be negotiating for free ink at this point.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t have any tattoos in mind yet, but maybe I should start thinking about it, huh?”

Steve smirked. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll take care of you.”

Sam gave you a pointed look. “See? That’s a good deal.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’d want the tattoo to mean something, though. I can’t just get inked from here for the first time for the sake of it.” 

Steve smirked, “Oh come on, just a tiny one,” He suddenly grabbed your forearm, angling it straight up, and with his other hand he lightly grabbed your wrist. “Right here.” He taps delicately at the soft skin of your wrist, absentmindedly thumbing your pulse as he continues to talk. 

Sam leaned in slightly, his tone casual—too casual. “What about a rolling pin? Or maybe a piping bag?” He smirked. “Right here.”

Before you could react, his fingers brushed lightly over the side of your neck, just beneath your ear. His thumb dragged against your collarbone as he tugged gently at the neckline of your shirt, exposing a little more of your skin.

“Or a knife.” He teased.

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. “I am not getting a knife tattooed onto my collarbone.”

Sam grinned, leaning in to “inspect” you. “Or,” he continued, “the side of your neck.” He joked, grazing his finger down the side of your neck. 

Before you could retort, the bell above the door chimed.

The shift was immediate.

Bucky stepped inside, the shop’s soft lighting casting shadows over his sharp features. His eyes flicked toward you first. Then to Steve’s hand still wrapped around your wrist. Then to Sam, whose fingers had just grazed your collarbone.

His stare was unreadable. Blank, even.

You felt the heat creeping up your neck as Sam casually dropped his hand, but Bucky wasn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze had flickered back to you, his jaw set.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t acknowledge anyone.

Didn’t even pretend to.

Instead, he walked past the three of you without so much as a nod, his steps slow, deliberate, carrying him deeper into the shop without a glance back.

The silence he left in his wake stretched.

Sam exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering under his breath, “Dude’s got a weird fucking vibe.”

“Sam,” you warned, shifting slightly where you sat.

Sam just raised his brows, leaning back against the loveseat. “What? I’m just saying.”

You shot him a look.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t weird.”

Steve, patted your hand before letting go and flipping through the papers in front of him, barely bothering to look up. “That’s just Bucky.”

Sam let out a dry laugh. “Right. Just Bucky.” His fingers tapped idly against his knee. “Dude walks in, looks like he wants to murder someone, doesn’t say a word, then disappears into the back like he’s some broody action movie character.”

Steve smirked. “Jealous?”

Sam’s expression turned flat. “Of what?”

Steve shrugged, grinning now. “He’s got that whole ‘mysterious, quiet, probably dangerous’ thing going for him.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’ve got the whole ‘charming, personable, actually fun to be around’ thing going for me.”

You snorted. “Sure.”

Sam turned to you, feigning offense. “Wow. That was uncalled for.”

Steve chuckled, finally setting down the papers. “Look, Bucky’s just—” He waved a hand. “He keeps to himself. That’s how he’s always been.” 

Sam scoffed again, shaking his head. Then, his gaze flicked toward you. “And you? What do you think?”

You hesitated, pressing your lips together.

You thought about the way Bucky’s stare had lingered for just a second too long. The flicker of something behind his eyes before he shut it down completely. The way his shoulders had tensed before he turned away. The other night still weighing heavily on your mind.

“…I think he’s just quiet,” you said finally, though you weren’t sure why it came out softer than you intended.

Sam’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his expression. Then, with a scoff, he leaned back against the loveseat again, shaking his head.

“Quiet,” he repeated, like he was testing the word.

Steve, oblivious to the shift in energy, reached for another paper from the pile in front of him. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

You didn’t respond. Instead letting out a deep breath, shifting where you sat. 

“We should probably head back,” you said finally, smoothing out your pants. “Peter swears he can be left alone for long, but we know he worries.”  

Steve frowned slightly but nodded “Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

“Don’t worry, Steven. I’ll come to you soon with more ideas.”

Steve’s face brightened at that, his worry giving way to childlike excitement. “You mean it?”

You grinned. “Of course. You know I can’t resist a challenge.”

His responding “awe” was warm, genuine, and before you could react, he was grabbing you.

It wasn’t just a hug—it was a Steve Rogers hug. A full-force, rib-crushing, lift-you-off-the-ground kind of hug that had you letting out a startled yelp before melting into it.

“Steven—oh my god—”

He just squeezed you tighter. “You are the best.”

Your breath came out in a short laugh, face half-smushed against his shoulder. “Okay, okay, let’s not break my spine.”

Steve finally set you back down, but before he pulled away completely, he pressed a firm, affectionate kiss to your temple.

It was nothing.

And yet, as you stepped back laughing, hands smoothing over your hips where your shirt had ridden up, something in the air shifted. It wasn’t anything tangible, nothing obvious, but it was there—lingering, humming beneath the surface like the faintest static charge.

Like the temperature had dropped just slightly, like the warmth of the moment had dulled by a fraction, like something had changed without you quite knowing how or why.

You laugh died as you turned and saw him.

Bucky stood just beyond the threshold between the back of the shop and the main floor, his presence still and quiet, but impossibly heavy. He wasn’t just lingering, wasn’t just standing in the background like he usually did, half-invisible, watching the world move around him. No, this was different. This was something else.

His stare was unreadable, his expression impassive, but there was a weight behind his gaze. And for a fraction of a second, so brief you might’ve imagined it,  you thought you saw something flicker there but then, just like that, it was gone.

Bucky blinked, his jaw shifting almost imperceptibly before his features smoothed into something neutral, carefully blank, as if he hadn’t just been looking at you at all. And without a word, without so much as an acknowledgment, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the back, leaving nothing behind except the distinct, unmistakable sensation that something had just happened.

Something you weren’t entirely sure how to name.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the lingering press of your own fingertips against your sides, the rise and fall of your breath, the faint, inexplicable feeling that whatever had just passed between you had been fleeting but significant.

Sam let out a slow, deliberate exhale beside you, arms crossing over his chest as he tilted his head, his gaze sliding from you and Steve, completely unaware that Bucky had returned for a moment.

“You two are so damn affectionate.”

——

Bucky wasn’t in a bad mood. Not really.

He was just… irritated. Restless. Something he couldn’t quite name but had been sitting on his chest since this morning, tightening like a vice, making everything feel just a little too sharp. The kind of feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter how many times he rolled his shoulders, no matter how much he tried to push it aside.

And coming home to a mostly-empty fridge sure as hell didn’t help.

Bucky stood there, one hand braced against the fridge door, staring at the contents like they might magically change if he looked at them long enough.

They didn’t.

Eggs. Bagels. Three cans of beer.

His jaw ticked.

With a sharp exhale, he swung the door shut, perhaps with more force than necessary, before dragging a hand down his face. He was not in the mood to go grocery shopping. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything, really. But he also wasn’t in the mood to deal with the hunger clawing at his stomach, so he grabbed his jacket and keys before he could talk himself out of it.

The store was quiet. At least there was that.

The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, buzzing in that way that always made his temples ache. He moved through the aisles without much thought, grabbing things at random, barely registering what he was throwing into his basket.

Pickles. A loaf of bread. Canned fish.

Something about the selection in his basket felt wrong, unsatisfying in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was too easy, too thoughtless, just a collection of things he grabbed on autopilot because the idea of putting in actual effort—of standing in front of a stove and making something that required patience—felt exhausting. He hadn’t realized until just now how little he actually cared about what he was eating, as long as it was quick, as long as it was simple, as long as it was enough to shut his body up and get him through another night.

So he kept walking, moving without thinking, scanning shelves without really seeing them, mind drifting in that restless way it had been all day. An older couple stood near the dairy section, murmuring to each other as they checked expiration dates, and he adjusted his grip on the basket, his fingers curling tightly around the handle, jaw flexing as he exhaled sharply through his nose. The feeling hadn’t left him—the unease, the static hum beneath his ribs, something unsettled and stretched thin.

And then—

He saw her.

His body went still before his brain could catch up, every thought in his head grinding to a halt as his muscles locked up, as his pulse fumbled mid-beat and his breath caught somewhere between inhale and exhale. It was an instinctive kind of reaction, one he wasn’t prepared for, one he couldn’t immediately shake.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about this moment before. He had. Not in any real, intentional way, but in that vague, distant way you think about things that seem inevitable. They lived in the same area, worked just down the block from each other—of course they were bound to run into each other somewhere, at some point, in some random, mundane setting.

He just hadn’t expected it to be now.

Not when his head already felt too full, his patience too worn down from a morning spent pacing between his fridge and his couch, knowing damn well he had nothing to eat but still refusing to do anything about it. Not when he already felt off balance, like something was pressing in at the edges of his mind, something he couldn’t quite name, something that had settled under his skin ever since he’d walked into the shop earlier and seen her under the weight of Steve’s hands, under the warmth of his laughter, under the kind of casual, easy familiarity that had no business making his stomach twist the way it did.

And certainly not when he was standing in the middle of a grocery store, clutching a basket full of things he didn’t even want, looking at her like he’d forgotten how to function.

She wasn’t behind the counter this time, wasn’t tucked into the space he had unconsciously confined her to, the setting where he had let himself believe she belonged. She wasn’t sliding receipts across a register, wasn’t greeting him with her usual knowing look as he grumbled out his order, wasn’t framed by the soft glow of café lights and the scent of coffee beans and sugar.

She was here.

In the same dim, soulless grocery store, under the same too-bright fluorescents, in the same aisle, in the same moment.

And Bucky had no fucking clue what to do with that.

His stomach tightened, something low and unfamiliar coiling behind his ribs, and he hated it—hated the way his feet stayed glued to the floor, hated the way his hands curled a little tighter around the basket, hated the way his chest went tight at the sight of her outside of where he was used to seeing her.

Because she looked different here.

Not in any way that actually mattered—she was the same, same soft curves, same warm expression, same quiet confidence in the way she carried herself, like the weight of the world had yet to leave a mark on her. But without the buffer of familiarity, without the safe, predictable rhythm of their usual routine, she felt different. More real. More tangible in a way that unsettled him, in a way that made something inside him pull taut.

And then—

She turned.

And her eyes met his.

His stomach lurched, fingers twitching where they gripped the basket handle, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

The world continued around them, carts rolling past, the faint murmur of an old pop song crackling through the overhead speakers, the butcher handing off a neatly wrapped package to another customer—but everything else seemed to pull back, like the static had narrowed to just this one moment, just this one stretch of space between them.

She hesitated, just for a beat, just long enough that he could see the flicker of consideration in her expression, the weighing of options, the silent question of how she was supposed to react to this just as much as he was.

And then—

She smiled.

Small. Almost hesitant. Like she wasn’t sure if she should, but was doing it anyway.

And Bucky—Bucky fucking Barnes—panicked.

Not outwardly. Not obviously. But something inside him jolted, something in his chest pulling tight, something hot and uneasy rushing beneath his skin before he could stop it.

Because the last time he’d seen her—really seen her—she had been staring at him in that same quiet way, that same careful, lingering gaze that had almost felt like it should have been followed by something else. A touch. A brush of fingertips. Something. She had stopped herself then, just before she left. He had, too. But for one stupid, fleeting second, Bucky had wished she’d followed through and touched him.

And now she was here, smiling at him, soft and tentative, like she was still figuring him out, still testing the edges of whatever this thing was between them. And Bucky? Bucky was still an idiot, still standing there, stiff and rooted to the spot, still gripping the handle of his basket like it might somehow sprout wings and fly away, taking him with it.

His grip tightened, his jaw flexing, something sharp settling behind his ribs. He felt—fuck, he didn’t even know what he felt. Off balance. Too aware. Like his body and brain were moving at two different speeds, tangled up in a static hum that had been following him since this morning.

Since he had walked into the shop and seen her under the touch of Sam and Steve, her laughter bright. Since he had seen Steve grabbing her, her shirt rumpled beneath his grip, with the man’s lips pressed to her temple. Since something in his gut had twisted in a way he didn’t like, a way he refused to name.

And now she was here, standing under the same too-bright grocery store lights, watching him with an unreadable expression. She quickly bid the butcher a quiet goodbye, slipping the neatly wrapped package into her basket before shifting it in her grip. Then, she turned and took a few light steps towards him.

Bucky had to force his legs to move, to meet her at the last step, though every muscle in his body locked up at the effort. His usual instinct was to turn the other way and pretend he didn’t see anything, but this time, he found himself wanting to stay. And yet, despite everything, he still couldn’t move.

Instead, he just stood there, too aware of the way his pulse jumped slightly at the sight of her approaching.

“Hi,” she said quietly, looking up at him, the soft curve of a smile still on her lips, and Bucky swore he felt some of the tension in his neck loosen just a little.

He blinked, his grip tightening on the basket, the plastic straining under the tension of his hold. He wasn’t sure why, but something about the way she was looking at him made his thoughts slow, made his brain stall like an old engine caught on itself.

She looked… the same. Of course she did. But something about seeing her here, in this mundane, everyday place, without the scent of coffee curling in the air, without antiseptic clinging to the walls, without flour dusting the edges of her sleeves or the tips of her hair, made her feel different.

More real.

More… something.

“I didn’t know you shopped here,” she said after a second, glancing around as if taking in the store for the first time.

“I don’t shop much,” he admitted, and immediately hated how stupid he probably sounded.

She glanced down at his basket. Bucky could practically see her take it in, scanning the sad collection of groceries before her gaze flicked back up, something unreadable playing at the edges of her expression.

She gave him a weak, knowing smile.

“I can see that,” she murmured.

Bucky felt something twitch at the corner of his mouth before he shut it down, the faintest urge to smile pressing against his cheeks.

There was a beat of silence. A moment where they just… stood there, in the middle of the grocery store, and Bucky realized how little he actually knew about her outside of their usual routine. Outside of the coffee, the ink-stained counters, the pastries.

And she didn’t know him either.

It should’ve been as simple as that.

But then she shifted, the light rustle of fabric pulling him from the thought, and he hated how acutely he noticed it.

“I just stopped to grab some stuff for Steven’s event,” she said, adjusting the weight of the basket in her arms. “Or, I guess… the both of yours’ event.” She chuckled lightly as she corrected herself.

Bucky’s brow lifted slightly, but he quickly shook his head. “No, it’s totally all him,” he said, scoffing under his breath. “I just work for him.”

She stared at him but gave a small nod, lips pressing together as if committing the response to memory.

“But I thought that wasn’t until next month?” he asked.

“It is, but… after this morning, I had a few ideas I wanted to try out right away,” she admitted, fingers lightly twisting the plastic handle cover of her basket.

Bucky hummed in acknowledgment, watching the way her fingers moved—twisting the plastic tube against the metal like she was already thinking ahead, her mind already somewhere else.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt heavier. Not exactly uncomfortable, but there.

She shifted on her feet. “Um, I’m about done here…” She glanced around, then back at him, eyes flicking over his face for a second before settling.

Bucky felt his grip on the basket tighten. “Yeah. Me too.”

Her gaze flickered to his basket again, hesitating for a second.

“Um—d-do…” She bit her lip, exhaling softly before trying again. “I can—”

Bucky just watched her, something stirring in his chest at the way she fidgeted slightly, the blush creeping up her cheeks, her lips rouge from biting them.

“I can make dinner,” she suddenly blurted out.

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together, but he stayed quiet, just watching.

“I—I’m not gonna be able to eat everything I’m making tonight,” she continued, stumbling over her words slightly. “If anything, I probably would’ve given you guys the leftovers anyway—” She was thinking out loud. She shook her head, trying to get back on track. “I-I mean… only if you’d like.”

She trailed off, shifting on her feet, and Bucky could see it—her grasping for a way to save herself from the awkwardness of the offer.

So he saved her instead.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah. Sure.”

Relief washed over her features so quickly, he almost chuckled. Instead, he just nodded, keeping his expression cool—at least, he hoped he looked cool. He honestly felt a little dumb, standing there trying not to look as thrown off as he actually was.

They made their way to the registers, and as he went to set his basket on the conveyor belt, she reached out.

“Um, you can leave that here,” she said, motioning toward his items.

Bucky blinked. “What?”

She nodded toward his basket. His brows furrowed slightly, about to protest, but she cut him off before he could. “There’ll be leftovers you can take home.” She reasoned, giving a small shrug.

Bucky sighed through his nose but didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped past her and let her unload the basket.

“If anything, I’m probably doing you a service,” she teased him lightly.

Bucky let out a scoff.

As she scrambled in her purse to find her wallet, Bucky reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and swiping his card before she could react.

Her eyes widened. “What? No, Bucky—”

“It’s fine,” he said simply, grabbing the receipt from the cashier. “Consider it a trade.”

She stared at him, lips parting like she wanted to argue further, but then she exhaled, shaking her head with a soft huff. As she reached for the bags, Bucky once again made sure to move before she did, and he grabbed the bags and made his way to the exit.

They stepped outside, the cool air against his skin as he walked her to her car. He helped her load the groceries into the trunk, shoving his hands into his pockets when they were done.

She hesitated for a second, then reached into her bag, flipping the receipt over and scribbling something onto the back.

“This is my address,” she said, handing him the receipt.

Bucky took it, fingers grazing the paper before slipping it into his pocket, the ink warm from her touch. His gaze flicked over the street name, barely processing it before she stepped back, giving him one last look. Then she climbed into her car.

He stood there for a moment, watching as her taillights disappeared down the street.

And then, with a sharp exhale, he turned, heading toward his own.

The drive wasn’t long enough.

It wasn’t long enough to sort through the static still buzzing in his head, wasn’t long enough to shove this thing—whatever this was—into a neat little box where he didn’t have to look too closely at it.

He hadn’t exactly realized what it meant when she offered to cook for him. Hadn’t let himself think about it, not fully. But it finally clicked when his car rumbled to life beneath him, when the city blurred past his window in the glow of passing streetlights.

It wasn’t just a meal. It was something else entirely—something Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to name.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as he switched lanes, grip tightening on the wheel. She was cooking for him. Not just for Steve, not just for the event, but for him. And for what? Because she was just nice? Because she had extra food and didn’t want it to go to waste? Or mayb—

No. That wasn’t it. Couldn’t be it.

He was making this into something it wasn’t. Overcomplicating it. This was about work. That’s all. Just food. Just an exchange. One that benefited her, too. He should think of it like an investment—something that helped his best friend’s event, something that made sure Steve’s business kept thriving. That was it. That’s all this was.

So why did his fingers tighten around the wheel? Why couldn’t he shake the way she had bit her lip, looking almost nervous, her voice trailing off before she had finally blurted out the offer? Why did it feel like there was something between the lines he hadn’t been ready to read?

His jaw flexed as he turned onto her street. The tension in his chest hadn’t eased, hadn’t faded, even as he pulled into a spot near the curb. He shifted the car into park, fingers drumming idly against the wheel before finally looking up.

She was already waiting.

Standing under the glow of the streetlamp, bags in hand, rocking slightly on her feet. She wasn’t looking around, wasn’t checking her phone she was just standing there, like she was waiting for him. Just him.

For a second, he stayed put. Gripping the wheel too tightly, trying to ignore the restless pull under his skin. Trying to remind himself this wasn’t a big deal. Just dinner. Just a thank-you. A friendly gesture.

But it felt like something else. Something heavier. Something he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, grabbing the receipt she had scribbled on, tucking it into his pocket before stepping out of the car. The cool night air hit him, but it didn’t do much to settle the tightness in his chest.

His gaze flicked across the street. Just a glance. Then another. Something about the sight made his stomach pull tight, but he pushed it aside and forced himself to move.

His boots were loud against the pavement, the sound muted by the quiet hum of the street. She must’ve heard him coming, because she turned, adjusting the weight of the bags in her arms.

“Everything okay?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Bucky blinked. Realized, belatedly, that he’d been staring across the street again. “Yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Just—” His mouth pressed into a line. “Just thinking.”

She watched him for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. But she didn’t push. Instead, she reached for the door, and Bucky stepped forward, grabbing the handle first, pulling it open for her.

She gave him a small, amused look before stepping inside. Bucky followed, feeling the weight of something settle in his chestr.

Not yet.

Bucky followed her into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet whump, sealing them inside a space that suddenly felt too small, too still. The silence settled heavily between them, thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides. The hum of the fluorescent light overhead and the faint whir of the elevator climbing floors should have been nothing more than background noise, but right now, it was deafening.

He could hear everything—his own breathing, hers, the almost imperceptible rustle of fabric as she shifted beside him. The steady flicker of the numbers above the door marked their slow ascent, each floor clicking by in excruciating increments. He clenched his jaw, adjusting his stance, feeling the weight of his own awareness pressing down on him. This was awkward. Too awkward.

She stood next to him, hands curled tightly around the straps of her bag, fingers flexing slightly, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. He could feel her presence in a way that made his stomach clench, too aware of the way she smelled—warm vanilla with something deeper, richer, something that curled in his chest and made it impossible to ignore just how close they were.

It shouldn’t have been this unsettling. But there were no distractions here. No counters between them. No clinking coffee mugs, no scent of roasted beans, no bustling grocery aisles. Just them. And that realization sat heavy on his chest, a weight he wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

He cleared his throat, the sound sharp against the quiet, a weak attempt to break the tension. "You, uh…" He glanced at her bag, then flicked his gaze back to her. "You cook a lot?"

She turned to him, blinking as if she hadn’t expected him to speak. For a beat, she just looked at him, like she was weighing something, trying to decide what to say. Then she shrugged, shifting her grip on the bag. "Not as much as I’d like," she admitted, her voice softer now. "I mean, I bake all the time for work, obviously, but… cooking? That’s different."

The elevator doors slid open, breaking the moment before it could stretch too long. She stepped out first, leading the way down the hall with Bucky following at a measured pace. He could feel his own pulse in his throat, unsure why this felt so... significant.

Her apartment was small but warm, the scent of something citrusy lingering in the air, mixing with vanilla in a way that made his chest tighten. She set the bags on the counter and glanced at him over her shoulder, a question in her eyes before she exhaled, like she had decided not to ask it.

“You can sit if you want,” she murmured, pulling out a few ingredients, her fingers deft as she began unwrapping the steak.

Bucky hesitated for a beat before pulling out a chair, his hands resting on his thighs as he watched her work. She was comfortable here, in her own space, moving with an ease he found almost hypnotic. He realized then that he hadn’t actually seen her outside of the café before, hadn’t really let himself think about what she might be like beyond the soft glow of pastry cases and the scent of coffee beans. But here she was, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, and still, something about her made his chest ache.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, watching as she carefully sliced the bread, her focus trained on her task. “So, what are you making?”

“Steak crostini,” she answered, glancing up at him briefly before going back to her work. “With hollandaise.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, lips pressing together as he nodded. “Fancy.”

She huffed a small laugh. “Not really. Just something I like, that can feed lots.”

“You do this often?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the cutting board, at the careful way she seasoned the steak.

She shrugged. “I cook for myself, but mostly… I just like feeding people. It’s nice. Feels like a way to take care of someone.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He didn’t have a response to that, didn’t know how to put into words the way those simple sentences made something in his ribs press uncomfortably against his lungs. He wasn’t used to people like her—people who did things just because they wanted to, because it made them happy.

And maybe that’s what made this feel different. Because she wasn’t asking for anything in return.

He cleared his throat again, fingers tapping against his thigh. “You uh… you grew up around here?”

She shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “No. Moved around a lot, actually. But this place? It’s the first one that’s felt like home.”

Bucky studied her, the way she said it like it was something she had fought for. And for some reason, that struck him harder than it should have.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah. I get that.”

She watched him for a moment, then turned back to the counter, her fingers deft as she reached for a bottle of wine from a small rack beside the counter, tilting it toward him in question. “You drink?”

Bucky blinked, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

She smiled, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet before pouring a deep red into each. “Figured it’d pair well,” she murmured, handing one to him before picking up her own.

He took the glass, feeling the weight of it in his palm, and hesitated before taking a small sip. The warmth of the wine spread through his chest, and suddenly, the tension inside him felt a little less sharp.

She let out a soft sigh and turned back to the cutting board and then slid a small bundle of asparagus toward him. “Why don’t you prep these?” she asked, her tone light, teasing. “See if you remember how to hold a knife.”

Bucky let out a dry scoff, shaking his head as he reached for the bundle. “I think I can manage.”

She smirked. “I don’t know. You don’t seem like the vegetable-chopping type.”

Bucky snorted. “What type do I seem like?”

She shrugged, eyes twinkling as she leaned against the counter. “The kind who survives off black coffee and whatever takeout doesn’t require talking to anyone.”

His mouth quirked, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he focused on trimming the ends of the asparagus, his hands surprisingly steady. He hadn’t done this in years—not since before everything—but muscle memory kicked in, guiding his hands with careful precision.

She moved closer, leaning just past him to reach for a saucepan, the faintest brush of her arm against his shoulder making his breath hitch. She didn’t acknowledge it, but he felt it, the warmth of her body so close that for a moment, he forgot what he was doing. He forced himself to keep slicing, though his movements slowed, as if suddenly hyper-aware of every tiny motion.

A quiet hum left her lips as she stirred something on the stove, the rich scent of butter and herbs filling the air. She turned back to him, spoon in hand, and lifted it slightly. “Here, taste this,” she said, stepping closer.

Bucky blinked, glancing between the spoon and her, hesitating for just a second too long. “Uh—”

She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head as she nudged it toward him. “C’mon, it’s just sauce. Don’t look so suspicious.”

Still, there was something intimate about it, the way she had just tasted it herself, the way her fingers barely brushed his when he finally took the spoon from her grasp. He swallowed before bringing it to his lips, the warmth of the sauce settling on his tongue, rich and velvety with just the right hint of lemon.

He exhaled slowly, nodding. “Damn. That’s good.”

She grinned, pleased, before turning back to her station. “Good. Because I’m not taking criticism from a man who probably lives off instant ramen and black coffee.”

Bucky smirked, shaking his head. “I know good food when I taste it.”

She raised an eyebrow, turning back to stir the sauce. “Oh? And here I thought you only ate out of convenience.”

Bucky huffed, shifting his weight as he reached for another asparagus spear. “I didn’t say I don’t eat well.”

The words felt defensive in his mouth, so he covered them up by focusing on slicing. He wasn’t about to admit that he had a taste for things beyond quick meals and coffee. After all, he had been the one slipping extra pastries into the bag every morning, using Steve as an excuse. He had been the one peeling them open later, in the quiet of his own kitchen, savoring them more than he’d ever let on.

She moved around him again, this time slower, closer, like she wasn’t in a rush to put space between them. The warmth of her body lingered in the air between them, and Bucky could feel it, could feel her. The scent of her perfume mixed with the buttery aroma of the sauce, something delicate and grounding all at once.

“Can you hand me that?” she asked, pointing at the cutting board beside him.

Bucky grabbed it, but as he passed it to her, their fingers brushed again, a fleeting press of warmth that neither of them acknowledged aloud. His stomach twisted, unfamiliar and slow, something far too careful for what he was used to. He swallowed, exhaling softly as she took the board from his hands, her fingers lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

She turned back to her work, moving with the ease of someone comfortable in her space, but he caught the way she bit her lip, just for a moment, before letting out a quiet breath. Like she felt it too.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick, charged, but not tense. It was full of something else entirely, something that made Bucky want to keep talking just to keep her looking at him the way she had been all night, soft, curious, a little amused.

“You always cook alone?” he asked, watching as she plated the crostini, careful and precise.

She paused, just slightly, before offering a small shrug. “Most of the time. It’s nice, you know? Therapeutic.”

Bucky nodded slowly. He understood that. The solitude of a routine, the way something as simple as cooking could feel like control in a world that never quite slowed down.

“Don’t mind the company?” he asked, quieter this time.

She glanced at him, then down at the plate she was finishing. “No,” she admitted, almost hesitant. “I don’t.”

Something shifted in his chest, something that made his fingers twitch against the edge of the counter. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what to do with it.

She reached for two plates, carefully arranging the crostini before sliding one toward him. “Here,” she murmured. “Try it.”

Bucky hesitated, then picked up a piece, taking a bite. The crunch of the toasted bread, the richness of the steak, the smooth tang of the hollandaise...it was damn near perfect.

She watched him, her lip caught between her teeth. “Well?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “You’re good at this.”

Her shoulders eased, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. “I know.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… natural. Easy.

She poured another splash of wine into his glass, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky let himself linger, let himself enjoy the moment. He wasn’t in a rush to leave. He wasn’t looking for an escape.

Instead, he just sat there, across from her in the quiet warmth of her kitchen, feeling something settle inside him that he still didn’t quite have a name for yet (or maybe he was acutely aware).

Eventually, the night had to end. The plates sat empty, only a few stray crumbs left behind, and their glasses carried the last traces of deep red wine. She stretched her arms above her head, a quiet sigh slipping past her lips, the movement so casual, so unguarded, that it caught him off guard. He swallowed, forcing himself to look away, to focus on the slow, inevitable rhythm of the night winding down.

She walked him to the door, her steps unhurried, as if she wasn’t quite ready to break the spell either. Bucky shrugged on his jacket, the warmth of her apartment still clinging to his skin, seeping into the fabric.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “It was good.”

She smirked, leaning against the doorframe, her arms folding loosely. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

Bucky let out a breath of a chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah. Just haven’t had something like that in a while.”

Something flickered across her expression, something soft and unreadable, but she didn’t push. Just nodded. “Well… goodnight, Bucky.” She said softly, leaning against the door frame.

He nodded back, lingering for half a second longer than he should have. “Goodnight.”

The door shut softly behind him, but the air in the hallway felt colder, emptier. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck before stepping toward the stairwell.

Outside, the night air hit him, crisp and grounding, but as always the warmth from her still hadn’t fully faded from his skin. He let out a breath and—without thinking, without hesitating—he jaywalked straight across the street, his boots striking pavement in an easy, familiar path.

And when he reached the other side, when he stepped up to his own building and turned toward the door, something made him glance back.

His stomach twisted as his gaze flicked up.

Right at her window.

His lips pressed together, breath catching slightly as realization settled in his chest like a slow ache. That was why he had felt the pull earlier, why something in his gut had twisted when she’d given him her address. Because now, standing in his own place in front of his window, it clicked.

He could see her window from his.

And if he could see hers, then she could probably see his too.

--

a/n: again thank you so much for your patience again huhuhu~

please reblog to support! I also love feedback, and comments :)

Literally your comments are hilarious

taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) : @cheezemanz @shirukitsune @miharuwrites @multifandomkid @violetpassionfruit @sapphirebarnes @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @angelbabyyy99 @theendofmaterialgworl @venuslovey @blackhawkfanatic @lazyneonrabbitt @singsosworld @danzer8705 @xamapolax @otterlycanadian @that1geek06

[comet-forgot-you]

pls pls pls write some sub!sam there’s nothing out there and I’ll give you my LIFE 🙏🙏🙏

smut. 18+ pls.

sub!sam who seems to have control in every aspect. shes a natural leader, always knows what to do, shes the one everyone goes to with any issues.

sub!sam who agrees with her friends when they talk about whos more dominant in the bedroom between you two. they obviously say its her, you dont disagree or confirm. you let sam dig herself into a hole, looking at her with an unimpressed look.

sub!sam who doesnt know why she keeps lying. she knows whats to come just from the look on your face. eyebrows slightly raised as she lies straight through her teeth. she knows that the second the two of you are alone, you’ll have her on her knees, a hand in her hair to tug her closer to your cunt.

sub!sam who doesnt say anything when you two get home. she knows shes in trouble, but you dont seem to do anything. you get yourself ready for bed and sam cant help but do the same in complete silence, looking at you expectantly. you have to be planning something, right?

you dont tell her anything. you get into bed, sam following soon after. you cuddle into her side, head on her chest and she slowly wrap her arms around you. youre quiet, and just when sam think you’ve fallen asleep, you move your hand under her shirt, pinching her nipple between your fingers.

sam whines, head dropping back. you feel the bud harden beneath your touch. you twist and tug on her nipple, leaving sam as a whimpering mess in your hold. “fuck,” she whines out, hips bucking against nothing. every tug on her sensitive nipple sends a wave of pleasure coursing through her body, settling in her core.

“you have all the control, hmm?” she hisses when your hand switches to her other nipple, giving it the same attention you gave the other.

“i didnt mean it.”

“why’d you say it then?”

you tug her nipple the second she opens her mouth to respond, all that comes out is a stained moan. you pull away from her, moving to sit between her legs. she looks up at you with pleading eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. you tug her boxers down, fingers moving to spread her sticky folds apart.

sam hisses when you blows a stream of cold air onto her exposed cunt. she wants nothing more than to close her legs. you leave her alone for a minute or two, getting the vibrator you had used on the girl so many times before. when you come back to her, her thighs are closed and shes bucking her hips, a weak attempt at soothing the ache between her legs.

you tap her thigh, “open,” and she does exactly as you say. you find yourself between her legs once again. you push the vibrator through her folds, wetting the toy before settling it on her clit. its not on yet, but that doesnt stop sam from moaning like it is.

you turn it on and the vibrations against her clit have her whimpering out. you circle it around her sensitive clit, leaving sam as a moaning mess as she works up to her orgasm. her head is thrown back, eyes closed as she focuses on the pleasure between her legs.

“look at me.” sam listens after a few moments, eyes meeting yours. theyre blown with lust, bottom lip taken in between her lips. “good.” she squeezes her eyes closed for a moment, opening them when you smack her inner thigh.

“fuck!” sam’s close. you can tell. her eyes struggle to stay open and on you, her fingers curling into the sheets beneath her. you can see the way her abs tense slightly beneath her raised shirt. her moans get closer together, more desperate than the last.

you tug the vibrator away at the last possible second. sam’s eyes widen, whines and quick “nonono’s” leaving her lips. you give her a second for the orgasm to subside before replacing the vibrator on her cunt.

“look at you sam,” you whisper. she shivers, pleading to you as she bucks her hips up to meet the toy. “you were all big and bad, telling all your friends how much control you have. look at you now, baby. just a desperate mess, all for me.”

“all for you, baby, please. im sorry, ill be good, i promise. just let me cum, please baby, ‘m sorry,” she whines out. it sends heat coursing through your body, but you wont give in, whats the fun in that?

“no, baby. you need to learn your lesson. be good and take what i give you, yeah?”

[iwannascreameurekaa]

pjo characters favorite Chappell roan looks part 1

guess who found this stupid list again I keep forgetting I do these things. spoiler warning this is ooc and very bad. I did most of this at 3-5 am so get ready for sleep deprived writing. part 2

Leo's is 100% this look from the 2024 VMAs. You tell me he wouldn't absolutely adore the edits of her saying "not me bitch" he would actually say "zoo wee mama" unironically okay

Percy's is this from the album cover for the rise and fall of a Midwest princess photo shoot both because of how it has an intense feeling of being out a place and because it's BLUE! Also he likes the lighting of the photo

Pipers is the marching band outfit from the hot to go music video

Jason fav is the butterfly look from Coachella 2024 

Hazel is absolutely obsessed with the tiny desk concert look and I agree because OH MY GODS. Hazel loves the layering of the hair, and that there's a trash bag in Chappells hair. Her favorite part about the whole outfit is the socks but the little butterfly clip in Chappells hair is so cute to Hazel. 

Annabeths favorite is the Statue of Liberty look from the governors ball yes it might be because she's an architecture nerd but also she's a bi disaster mkay

Franks is the white swan look from Jimmy Fallon. He will scream the bridge to good luck babe even tho he's a man and he will BLAST THAT SHIT TOO. 

Grover's fav look is when she was on the comment section podcast. It's whimsical and cute and he adores it. Also he supports Chappell roan 100% on the boundaries she set bc SHE IS A PERSON BE NICE YALL ☹️ he's a Chappell defender for life 

Drews favorite is the casual mv dress (whoa sapphic drew anyone???) let's just say she had a "situationship" thing and now I wanna write angst anyways FUCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM WHEN WE WENT TO DINNERRR

Katie loves the giver outfit. The plaid is something that Katie can't NOT love okay. The curls and whole country vibe really get her 

Lit loved the taxi dress. he recognizes cunt when he sees it and he cracks up at the green paint 

Nyssa loves the snl look but specifically with the hat the hats important okay. I think a kid of Hephaestus would really like this outfit bc of the rope things and um idk how to describe it you know what I mean tho okay 

Blitz absolutely adore the pink pony club outfit from chappells performance on snl. The seamless white dress that sparkles and looks like literal heaven is something that can't be hated by someone who loves fashion as much as blitz does. He loves the stripe of white in chappells wig and the bow on the side of her waist. Really the whole outfit is incredibly and he will not hesitate to tell you 

Georgie likes this look from either one of chappells tours or from when she opened for Olivia Rodrigo I cant remember but she loves the tassels (?) and the shininess and everything about it. This is the outfit an 8 year old would adore

Alabasters fav is this magician look from a photo shoot that I can't the remember the name of. Maybe a little cliche but shush

Ethan's favorite is this incredibly look that I have no idea what to call or where it's from. All I know is that Chappell is serving all sorts of things and Ethan agrees with me okay I'm literally Rick himself 

Shels favorite is the snl look but without the hat. She likes the waist pieces she says they look like butterflies and she really likes the slick back look of her hair and then the curls messy in the back. It's a vibe. 

Sams favorite is the look Chappell had on Sabrina carpenters Christmas special A Nonsense Christmas. There's two pics because I absolutely adore this look. She's so elegant wtf.

Lavinias favorite is the dress Chappell had on when she was invited to perform with Olivias Rodrigo at one of her concerts. It's pink it's flowery it's sparkly, what more could you ask for? 

Cecil would've tried to recreate this makeup look and he would've failed miserably. The tights really pull this outfit together. The neck ruffle, the flowers in her hair. Cecil loves everything about it.  

Calypsos favorite look is the Marie ann look with the wig because a) it absolutely eats and even this 6000 year old girl can recognize an icon and b) calypsos a sucker for the flower embroidery on the front 

Gwen would've loved this like I don't know anything about her but she feels like the kinda gal to be obsessed with marriage culture and not in a "I wanna get married and have a big beautiful wedding" way I mean a "I know every aspect of this, good and bad, and am willing to be the backbone of the failing society" way 

Rip Lou Ellen you would've loved kaleidoscope. Rick can you give Lou a book and then make her a tragic lesbian I would love that please and thank you. Also the freaking star clips in this outfit are fiahkajda. Btw this is chappells kaleidoscope outfit and yes it's lous fav and it's beautiful. 

paolos fav is the angel look. Basic? maybe. but stunning? yes

Zoes fav is this blue cowboy look. It's shiny and she likes the color blue. Also the sparkles kinda look like stars... whoa who said that whattt

Bianca's fav is this wonderful look that is glitching and the backgrounds gone my phone is about to explode I apologize. The detail on this is insane. The tassels hanging from every end, the points and curves that really give it that alternative and crazy look. Rip Bianca you wouldve loved the subway.  

Dionysus but Mr D specifically. He's a queer icon and he loves the other queer icons as well. This outfit from the guts would tour film premiere is his favorite  because of many reason. First is the red mesh the entire dress is made off. Chappells whole red aesthetic really does remind me of red wine and shit and also I'm just grasping for ways to connect this to Mr d so bear with me. Also the flowers on the dress are so freaking pretty usgajfjwhwh love those. The black boots contrast great with the rest of the outfit and I know Mr d would like that detail. Also the fact that her tits are almost out. yes Dionysus wouldve love you yes Chappell get it girl I love you

Luke's favorite is this look. I don't know where it's from but I think this reminds Luke of his mom. Maybe his mom liked animal print idk I just like this outfit

Junipers fav is this one and I also don't know where it's from. It's a simpler outfit than others but it's so adorable and juniper would love chappells aesthetic okay like juniper would be the biggest fan of California I just KNOW

and that's all I have. of course there's so many more looks and characters so if I missed anyone or a look you like feel free to request it I am bored out of my mind rn

part 2

[rebeltigera]

Haiii!! I got question:

Do you have any head-canons for mk? Mac? Wuk?

And what is your personal opinion on season 5?

I am responding second time because the first one didn't send :'D

Pls end me.

I don't remember the headcanons I've mustered out the first time damnit -

*sigh*

Those are general ones , I use the design of the character most of the time to show headcanons

For MK

-He's wasted after one beer.

-his tail subconsciously curl against legs of his friends or person he trust

-he chirp subconsciously

-he don't like bitter things like dark chocolate

For Wukong

- he got thick , strong curly fur . When fluffed up texture it reminds of the dust brush

- his body temperature is much higher due to the furnace punishment

-gets headaches due to the circlet (phantom pain)

-he speak and read fluently ancient Chinese , however he got problems with modern language

-he usually sleeps with lil monkeys around

-he can't get drunk.

-monkeys take care of his fur

For Mac

- his ears are too delicate for piercings. They would hurt.

- thin , straight/wavy fur like smoke . He can't stand cold

- he can always hear past and present but future is randomly whispering to him

- he got lower body temperature (due to the shadow nature)

- when drunk he looks like a beast but he's a snuggly wuggly teddy bear

-he takes care of his fur regularly himself

For Mei (because it's lacking in other categories and I don't remember more :'D)

- When she fights she tunes into imaginary music in the background. Like Gwen from spiderverse 2

About S5

*sigh* Vent warning. not directed at anyone in particular

I am unable to put up presentable opinion on this season

Also warning to everyone that will read it

If you are here to defend/ you are touchy on subject of S5 please avert your eyes.

The season was mid at best. , script was rushed, the core of it was S3 with meek antagonist, the most evil character there was a bug demon with many eyes, and SACRIFICE was basically word for this season.

Other things I remember from it is a burnt dumpling and Nezha's mech. Oh and Wukong being useless, Mac carrying season on his back , MK being even more stupid than usual. A random guy with a pagoda and a Twink snake. Nothing else .

Let's put my opinion about the animation now :D

Flying Bark got sacrificed just like MK in this season lol

The animation was a pure nightmare, it's like Seven deadly sins Incident

And if you guys think it will get much better from that in one year (let's say for example they will produce another season next year) you live high on copium and delulu.

Our juicy yummy frame by frame animation was taken away and they gave us RAGDOLL animation.

What does it mean? -AND HERE TUMBLR DECIDED TO CRASH ON ME AND IM WRITING IT 3rd TIME :D- you know how hieroglyphs are animated? Ye, that's basically it with extra steps! HOW FUN. NOW WE HAVE PUPPETS 2D. A FREAKING GACHA FROM YT IF YOU MUST. THOSE IN SOME CASES ARE EVEN BETTER ANIMATED THAN OUR SHOW ITSELF BTW. This has it's perks! I guess. It's cheaper and easier to make episodes! :D the cons are we will no longer see good battles in the show. yay "But we saw Wukong vs MK! And snippet of Wukong vs Mac fight!" please, spare me. If you are telling me those were good fights , that is half assed animation they have no idea how works and two dots clashing with eachother you should go rewatch other seasons. the fucking disgrace and audacity.

But no matter. That i can live off, that i can gulp down.

YOU KNOW WHAT I CAN'T? THE SHEER AMOUNT OF MISTAKES ON BASIC LVL IN ART. I am sitting here looking at those colors, those lines this fucking scenography and ask- what a fucking newbie did this .

YOU CAN'T EVEN GET COLOR RIGHT

AND BEFORE ANY OF U F NERDS WILL COME TO ME AND SAY "UUU ACTUALLY ITS LIGHTING FAULT-" NO ITS FUCKING NOT.

THEY CAN'T EVEN USE SAME COLORS AS IN THE PRIOR SHOT , THEY CANT EVEN SAMPLE IT PROPERLY . BETWEEN THOSE SHOTS NOTHING CHANGE THEREFORE THE LIGHTING IS THE FUCKING SAME

IF YOU DON'T DRAW , AND HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT , JUST -

we have a shiny wukong here

What is this scene , please someone can explain to me the scenography of this

Why this perspective is wrong, the shading, the lack of lighting

Here characters don't even stand properly

WHAT IS WITH THIS AWKWARD SCENOGRAPHY ?

WHY THEY ALL LOOK OUT OF PLACE. AND IM NOT EVEN TALKING ABOUT THIS SHADING BECAUSE ITS SHIT.

HAVE THEY MISSED LIKE ALL BASIC LESSONS IN ART SCHOOLS? OR SOMETHING? LIKE THIS IS A JOKE. NO WONDER PEOPLE THOUGHT TRAILER WAS FAN MADE.

Now this- this is just hillarious.

Just add to it some dramatic intense sound effect and we have another nightmare.

The voice acting was great tho

[mothdustts]

A sorta rant about Sam from Stardew Valley and his 4 heart event cuz i cant sleep and hes my wee lil goober

So apparently sam is a pretty underrated bachelor mainly due to his behaviour and personality in heart events that can cause him to come off as “immature and too young” which yea it’s understandable. So this is coming off from a perspective of a almost 20 year old uni student who really find Sam rather interesting and relatable.

So seems like a lot of people tend to point out his 4 and 10 heart events (sometime 6 even) as to their reason on finding Sam like a bit distasteful. I wanna talk about his 4 heart event cuz the more i looked back onto it, the more it hits me and find him very relatable in terms of personal experiences. So lemme bring up his 4 hear event and give yall my personal lense of it.

The 4 heart event has Sam trying to get you a snack but dropped an egg by accident, which caught Jodi’s attention.

And of course Sam seemed distressed about it, and so is Jodi’s reaction as she got mad about something as minuscule as an egg crack on the kitchen floor. We as the player has to be the one to tell Jodi what happen (where you can either tell what actually happened or choose to lie and say you dropped the egg btw)

Pretty much the best option is to lie and say you did it, and Jodi forgives you and plays it cool ofc. Jodi gives off the same reaction when you tell the truth and said that Sam dropped by accident.

I’m guessing that’s because it’s YOU who’s telling her what happened rather than it coming from Sam, which of course Jodi would be a bit more forgiving so she would cause a scene in front of their guest. Had you not been there and its just a casual day in their household, it’s likely that Sam will get hella berated and scolded by Jodi over an egg.

It seems very subtle I guess but Sam not responding to Jodi’s question may be the cause of previous experience with causing minor accidents around the house and getting scolded by his Mom. He may also seem really scared to respond with the truth, fearing his mom’s reaction hence relies on you to do the talking.

And personally, this had happened to me a lot growing up, with my mom literally scolding the fuck outta me if I ever made a minor mess or an accident around the house, so it did impacted me growing up anf maturing into adulthood. I remember as a kid I had to lie a lot because i fear that she would shout at me or worse hit me and yikes that got a wee bit dark didnt it bruh.

Sam may have not mature out in that department and of course it would have to do with his upbringing, being raised by Jodi and having an absent father as well which i’d say makes him hard to be mentally matured.

So yea i guess that all i gotta say and since this is all just speculation and basically my interpretation of this heart event, do take it with a grain of salt.

I might make a revised version of this to make it more cohesive and shit, i mean like i literally am writing this at 3am so meow :3

Y’all are welcomed to reply or reblog to open up a discussion and id love to hear and chat with you about your thoughts and insight about this hehe :D

goodnight gois!!! especially to you Sam stans out there!!!

[coca-colas-truck-driver]

during the two years dean and sam didnt talk, bobby and sam had three different dinners together. one a week after the incident, bobby’s voice gruff as he spoke over the bottle cheap beer clutched against his palm. bobby spoke with uncertainty, clearlh feeling as if he was overstepping but something was pushing him to talk to sam “your brother. hes a fucking idjit, never knew when to quit, ill tell you that much” bobby huffs, getting side tracked before shaking his head.

“listen, i know im not your father.” bobby pauses, taking another swig of his beer. he licks his lips, wiping the liquid that had spilled out of the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand “but johns god knows where and you havent even spoken in over two years. deans… well, hes dean. im not saying drop out, but you cant just ignore your brother like this, it isnt like you two.” sam knows bobby isnt saying what he means, that the words are constructed and well planned for the most part.

sam nods, feeling dizzy with the minimal movement as he remembers how dean had behaved upon being told about jess, how sam thought things might become a thing. it was slurred into the side of dean’s sweaty neck, sam’s lips ghosting over his skin as he let dean hold him close. he doesnt even know why he told dean that, since jess is nice and pretty, but even when hes with her hes thinking about the next time he’ll be here.

dean had reacted poorly, and sam doesnt even blame him. sam used to act like a petty bitch when he didnt get his way with deans issue with monogamy. he doesnt even remember the hushed conversations had over a fake wooden dinner table while john stepped out for a smoke, just remembers deans face as he passive aggressively put sams mac and cheese in front of him before going out to get into a bar with a fake id john didnt know about.

“i think its better this way” sam shrugs “i have a girlfriend. shes great.” sam nods to himself, picking at the nachos they got to split.

“dean told me. i think its a bad idea. you know how those things end.”

[winchesticles67]

SPN rewatch, 1X01, 'pilot'

okay so i basically just wrote down what was going through my wackadoo brain whilst watching the ep, its a little kooky and spooky but here:

why would you leave an awake 6 m/o child alone in a room wth

i hate john ew

help johns brows kill me

DEAN IS FOUR YEARS OLD WTF ARE YOU GONNA DO FOR YOUR WIFE SHES BURNING ON THE CEILING. YOU TAKE SAM AND DEAN AND GO DONT PUT THAT ON A 4 Y/O

nosy ass neighbours

silent intro???? just 'supernatural', no noise???

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA JESS

so pretty woman

little jared w his floppy hairrr <333

sams face when he takes the shot kills meeeeee hes the human version of the grimacing emoji hahhahahaah

sam's friend is actually such a vibe "more shots?" "NO"

crash and burn always cracks me up

dean youre not supposed to break into peoples houses

how did jess not wake up while these two idiots just went at it??

alcoholism foreshadowing :(

a few days? dawg you guys have been on hunting trips for longer why is this so dramatic

'it wasnt easy but it wasnt that bad' STFU DEAN YOU LITTLE PISS

dont get so pissed when sam mentions mary, dean, she was his mom too you crap

not the s15 finale parallel im sobbing

wtf is that voicemail from john?? that never made sense to me

love the wade felton hairstyle jared

oh he fixed his bangs nvm

love the primal jungle screams of the first victim theyre almost funny

SAM EAT BREAKFAST YOU NEED NUTRITION

omg jensen you make me swoon "sorry cant hear you, the musics too loud :D" loved that delivery

why does dean have badges for sam if they havent been hunting together? that always confused me

dean is such a dick to these police i mean they didnt do anything wrong

sam is so morally right STOMP ON DEANS FOOT FOR THAT BITCH ASS COMMENT YOU GO GIRL

love the x files ref

i love that girls friend, asking if shes ok when two strangely vertical men are speaking to her

why does jared make his voice all raspy and tiny in the first season when sams being comforting. like its cute but it went away after s1

ah playful sibling punches. i wish they stayed that way and didnt turn into dean beating tf out of sam :/

OMG LITTLE JENSEN HAS MY HEART FR

s1 dean actually means sm to me. he still sucks but like :(( he was happy and wasnt drowned in whiskey

dean get off of sam MARY WASNT JUST YOUR MOTHER

i love the impala sm if she was a person id hit that, i get why dean loves her sm

i love that deans just covered in yuck lmao

"you smell like a toilet" you tell him sammy tell that stinky man

sam tugging an absent minded dean into the motel room by his jacket collar <3

JERK -> BITCH

jess's voicemail devastates me. i really loved her and she wasnt talked abt enough. one episode, one djinn dream, one "he was gonna marry her", two lucifer dreams, and and a teensy meaningful mention in s15

you got anything thats real? "my boobs. :D"

aaaaahhh pilot sam i cant get over him his hairs so dark and gorgeous

i love sam and his insistence on making this man feel guilty for cheating >:) get it bbg

omg pilot sam is so gorgeous his hair i love him im turning red and im swooning abt it

constance get your nightgown wearing ass away from sam :((

the glitching effect used on constance is so baddass

ew constance get of off him youre nasty. why wasnt this talked abt she was nasty

SAMS SCREAMS MAKE ME SO SAD

'im taking you home' okay sexy determined hot man

the authenticity of the props and the sets and the outfits in s1 (through like s4/5ish??) means a lot to me

"youve come home to us mommy" ew i hate kids

the sfx of constances ghost death was weird...

"AHAHAHHHA" jared i love you

"what were you thinking, shooting casper in the face, you freak?" top tier line, i love that line

NO I CANT STAND THIS SCENE. SAM DONT GO IN YOUR BEDROOM BBG

sam screaming for jess haunts me. she was his everything he loved her so much :(

not me just noticing the TEARS STREAMING DOWN SAMS CHEEKS WHEN HES STANDING BY THE IMPALA??? FUCK I HATE THIS FOR HIM

comparing sams attitude after jess's death with his attitude in the flashbacks in 'i know what you did last summer' and im screaming about it

how many ___ so far: - x files references: 1 - jerk bitches: 1

[colbystoes]

Rumors pt2

Part 1. Part 2(colby ver.)

hi, this is rumors part 2 but sams version. if you liked part 1 go ahead n click the link above where i have listed both parts.

Summary: You and colby got into a fight after rumors about your relationship spread online and sam intervenes, something unpredictable happens.

bold text: colby

normal text: sam

italics: y/n

r/n is a random girl. just think of a name.

—

3rd pov.

Next morning was even worse. You had no clue where Colby even was, he just like…disappeared. You spent the morning with sam, since he was there for you all night, taking you food, comforting you, basically being the only one that was there. You loved him for that, he was so sweet even when you had massive fights with colby but colby woul get jealous because of that reason. It always caused fights between you too and sam would just distance himself from you since he didnt want to ruin his friendship.

Mostly spending time with sam, you realized that deep down you really cared and appreciated him. You can’t say you see him as a friend but more than that. It’s always been like this, at one point there was a love triangle between the three of you and you choose colby because your love was strong for him. Maybe not. Sam cared so much for you, he would die for you, do anything for you. He had such a soft spot for you, unlike colby, he ignored girls because of how in love he was with you.

Later that day, you went shopping with sam just lift up your mood, chitchatting, and laughing with sam until two particular faces came into view and ruined your mood. Colby and R/n. Disgust filled your face and soon as R/n tries coming up to you. Sams face filled with worry turns to you making sure you dont act out.

“im fine sam..” you whisper to him, you turn towards her and say hi, fake smiling. “HI Y/N” she screeched excitedly.

“this bitch”

“hey guys, sorry we can’t chitchat we have to go byeee!” sam says while he drags me out of there. You look back at Colby, while he stares at you with no expression.

“you really need to talk it out with him” “i know”

—

You’re laying down in your shared bed with colby, when he walks in and slams the door. You jolt up when the loud slam happened. “what the fuck?” you shout. It was late, there shouldn’t be any ruckus happening. You can tell he had been drinking by the way he was standing, he always got aggressive when he was tipsy.

“what? what kind of fucking problem do you have?” colby shouts. Guessing sam was near, you try to calm him down. “geez colby chill out, no need to scream when you’re the problem.”

“the fuck do you mean?, im the problem? how?, youre the one acting bitchy and ignoring me.”

“I KNOW YOU DONT CARE YOU NEVER CARED…you care more about her than me..” your voice got quiet as the tears slip down, blurring your vision. Colby raised his to slap you, but before he could sam came in charging at him tackling him to the ground.

“don’t you dare put a hand on her.” Sam growled, pinning colbys arms down. You rushed out, grabbing your phone and a blanket and ran into sams room. You sobbed and sobbed, not even noticing sam walk in until you felt his arms around you.

—

1st pov.

—

“its okay y/n its okay…” Sam hushes while he put a hand through your hair. It soothes me, i always feel safe with sam. I cant say the same for colby.

“im sorry sam, i didnt mean for this to happen..” i whisper into his chest, he tighted his grip around me.

“it doesnt matter. just know that im here and i will always love you.” sam says getting quieter towards the end. I lift my head with a puzzled look. Of course i knew, i knew he loved me. Ever since we were kids.

“i love you more.” I say, grinning with a growing blush across my cheeks. Our faces got closer and closer eventually our noses were touching.

“you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” sam whispered with a grin. Our lips connected softly, it didnt feel forced it felt passionate. I felt his hand trickle its way up to my jawline, the kiss got slower and slower until we pulled away. We stared at each other while we caught our breath. I’ve never felt this way before with no one. He made me feel different. I loved him.

I guess colby and i aren’t together.

—

hiii, okay so this sams version since @blogcybr requested it!! thank you i honestly like this one better🥰.

[chronicallyblyrie]

MAGNUS PROTOCOL SPOILERS YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

ALRIGHT, its time to go off about these first 2 episodes Episode 1: -SAM AND ALICE MY LOVES

-Gwendolyn was either going to be the biggest win or the biggest loss for lesbians, SHE IS A WIN

-I still cannot get over everyone immediately going "Nah Sam, you touch grass, which means you CAN NOT work here" - So it seems all the audio is being recorded by the computers as opposed to tape recorders this time (except for the scenes like sam and alice at the bar which is somewhat confusing me but whatever) This is DEFINITELY falling into line with the technology theme still and I am loving it

-I really cannot tell if Lena is evil or not, I don't think Rusty Quill would be like "yeah this is just Elias all over again" but who knows, she still gives off the same icky evil person vibes so I could be totally wrong -Going back to eye imagery just immediately in the first episode with gory photos of eyes in a chat forum, welcome back ceaseless watcher we missed you so much

-THESE SNEAKY BASTARDS USING JON AND MARTINS VOICES TO TAUNT US I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING JONNY SIMS

-Also 3rd voice is who??? we obviously know now that the 3rd redacted character is going to be a tts voice aswell but my question is who is this tts supposed to be? its a possibility that it is Jonah but I am not entirely convinced

-Sam mentioned that the talk of the institute was a "Blast from the past"? now THATS interesting

-Okay cool so Colin is just paranoid and does not trust anyone good to know

Episode 2:

-WOOO SHORT STORY TIME

-This sounds like some flesh shit ngl

-"Time isn't real" so true Alice so true

-The Alice and Gwen rivalry is so goofy I cant get over these two silly little gals

- Alice has a brother, lets hope this one doesn't pull a Danny Stoker

-Oh no Saaaaaaam don't go researching the creepy institute nooooooooooo, would be a shame if you got yourself tied up into some eldritch horrors

Anyways I think thats it cant wait for next thursday so I can giggle and kick my feet again while I listen to more horrors beyond my comprehension

[commanderquinn]

a list of canon ways in which lillian hart is The Fucking Worst that cora coe deserves financial and emotional compensation for:

-the basis for the big divorce counseling mission is that cora's worried for her mother's safety. that means, before going on a deep cover operation with smugglers known to kill rangers, marines, or anyone else caught trying to interfere with their business, lillian didnt leave her daughter a heads up much less a lead. once the fuck again, this woman decided that her career was more important than her daughter's mental and emotional health. once the fuck again, this woman decided she could just disappear from cora's life and then come back out of the blue without consequence

-when you go to lillian's office to look for her at cora's request, the guy working the desk knows SAM well enough to know his name and give him shit like they've got a personal history, but he??? isnt sure about????? cora's name???? word for word, he looks at her and says "it's cora, right?" you're telling me that this woman doesn't talk about her kid enough for her fellow INVESTIAGATIVE rangers to be sure about her name??? are you SHITTING ME??????? get the fuck out of here. you cant push "ranger family values" and the close ties they have in one breath then claim she likes to keep a professional distance at work in the other. you wanna have the conversation about what fresh hell it is being a working mother in a position of power, lets go, ill have that conversation all day long. but lillian hart is not a fucking example of a working mother and im gonna be pretty fucking insulted for working mothers everywhere if i catch wind of ppl trying to pull that kind of defense card. the woman's an awful parent and should be held the fuck accountable for it. you wanna know how i know????

she doesn't say cora's name enough for the ranger watching the door to be confident in it, but he remembers alllll the stories of the captain her ex is cozying up to. and lillian is the one to confirm during the quest that she has been getting the stories from cora, so there's some clear "oh she already likes the stranger more than me." i know im reading into it because its fiction and none of these people are real, but ive also, y'know been in cora's shoes, so i can tell you from real life experience that shit does exist. idk if that was the writers INTENT, but it sure does a great job at reflecting a very sad reality

-sam points out its dumb that lillian wants to speed the ship, with her daughter on it, directly at the sydicate. idk abt y'all, but my ship was pretty dinky at that point bc i was focused on outposts, and we got ambushed by like 6 ship waves once we landed for that fight. again, i get it. game mechanics get a higher priority than realism. but this whole "we have to finish this because theres a chance you were spotted trying to rescue me" shit is so. nauseating. theres no demand to drop off cora somewhere safe, theres no "lets call in the cavalry." its this fucking egomaniac looking you dead in the eye and being like "i know i just traumatized the shit out of my kid but i need you to drive us into an ambush while she's still on board. hope you're a good shot because sam and i cant kill them ourselves." and so what that we did that????? YOURE TELLING ME IT WAS JUST THOSE SHIPS???? the rest of the organization is just going to LET IT GO???? like no fucking wonder sam sees himself as the better option even through all his fucking doubt. at least he knows when to turn the fuck around because shit is above his paygrade

-she has custody rights. she is a decorated and respected ranger. sam being a smuggler wasnt public knowledge, but point out one person in akila who wouldnt believe her in a heartbeat over it. everyone in town gives him nothing but shit, and they all side with his dad who was definitely no picnic to live with. im guessing big emotional detachment there, lotta interrogation and persecution rather than teaching and understanding. HELL, sam would probably own up to his past if lillian outed him for it, he's that type of idiot. at literally any point she could put in the effort to get legal council involved. if she's SOOOO by the law, whats the hold up there???? i agree the kid shouldnt be on my ship while im in the middle of a space fight. ive talked with sam about it, and im not even the kids parent (as of the personal quest). what the fuck are you doing about it lillian????????? oh thats right. we cant get lillian on the phone. whomp whomp.

-she made cora cry. hyper independent, "big girls dont cry" cora coe. multiple times. worse, she made cora cry because she made cora feel like she wasn't as important as lillian's career. i dont give a fuck what criminals are doing. i do not give a fuck. i give a fuck that that little pixel child got her heart broken and there isnt a dialogue for me to call out her mother for being a huge fucking cunt to her own daughter but theres a thousand and one options for me to tell sam he's parenting wrong. he is, and i have no problem using them when they're appropriate, but where the fuck are they for lillian??? why am i not allowed to tear this woman a new asshole at any point, but there's like 20+ extra dialogue options added to every single npc you have a persuade option with???? todd my head hurts and its your fault

-"im sure sam's told you all about me. go on. ask whatever you want." yet there is no option to ask what the fuck her problem is. so, clearly, i cannot, in fact, ask whatever i want.

-"but the looks i got from my fellow rangers reading alexander dumas... we do strange things for kids." yeah hart??? thats your standard????? THATS your idea of going out of your way for your kid??? literally how did sam fall for this woman oh my god i cant even listen to her speak without wanting to use the power of bitchhood i inherited from a long line of angry irish women to ridicule her to tears. maybe then she'll fucking understand how small she makes her fucking kid feel every time she turns a moment of bonding into a little "woe is me and my comfort zone oh how unfortunate i am to have a brilliant daughter that wants to connect with me through her greatest passion"

-she openly admits that she dumped the cargo sam was smuggling not because she felt any connection or sympathy or just didnt want to destroy someones chance at life in a capitalist society, but because he was a good pilot and she didnt want that talent to "go to waste" so she could recruit him. thats not really a thing against cora i just really fucking hate that and the picture it paints of her priorities as a human being

-"if we're going to be really honest here... back when we were a team... cora would follow you everywhere, like a little adoring dog. i... just fell out of it. long before we separated."

i literally. do not have words for how fucking disgusted i am by that line of dialogue. oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god. i. i TRULY would not even know where to start. the dog comparison makes me violently angry and if you'd given me a punch interrupt at that moment, i would have broken my keyboard punching the accept option

-go replay or watch a recording of that divorce counseling mission one more time. while you're doing it, imagine the roles reversed. imagine youre romancing a character thats a mother bringing cora into space, and the ranger standing in your cockpit asking to finish the mission is her father who took off to live at work once it was clear his little girl liked mommy better. imagine THAT while you listen to the (imo) out of fucking pocket dialogue where sam constantly praises lillian for being "a good ranger/woman." then you come back and tell me how comfortable you are with the concept of lillian hart as a character.

[asmogorna]

Sorry to send another ask so soon (and idk if someones asked this already) but if you have any headcanons for Jon I'd love to hear them!

OK SO im really sorry it took me THIS long to get to this i quite literally.. forgot i had smth in my inbox woopsies. the reason i remembered is cause mootie posted some Spine hcs and i was like "woah"

alsooo im not good at putting my thoughts onto "paper" especially in english so you will have to excuse me

anywho my jon headcanons some sad some random /ref

First of all i think that his relationship with Peter Walter I would be far from close. he would be seen as the type of child who's both "too much mess to take care of" and "strong enough to take care of himself" if that makes sense. Peter did love him as his creation but would openly admit that he's not his proudest one, meanwhile Jon wouldn't feel much connection at all. he sympathized with his creator but only in a way he would with any other human being, there was more gratitude than love

Jon struggles with constant malfunctions and his mechanisms are a mess (partially because he gets himself in trouble all the time), so at one point Peter would get tired of fixing him so frequently, and tell him that he can just "walk some things off". That thought stuck to the bot and he would think of all of his malfunctions as slight inconveniences, i mean, he can still perform so why pay attention to the constant neck pain or powering up struggles ? it just became a habit and he kind of forgot that things like that shouldn't be ignored

After a long while when Peter Walter VI grew up enough to start learning more about how automatons work, Jon would be used as a "lab rat" (not really but its just what he himself called it) for young VI to practice fixing mechanisms. thats pretty much when he heard "Wait this cant be right" about his messed up physical state for the first time in a long while. little Peter didnt get to fix all of the things that were wrong with Jon's body, but he did manage to take care of some of them, which almost surprised Jon with how nice it felt to not hear pieces of broken gears rattle in his head every time he moved (who wouldve thunk)

ok now to more lighthearted stuff !!

Jon actually has a very strong bond with Sam ! He loves watching the mustached man work and sometimes follows him around, just enjoying his company. At first Sam thought that the tone-gold automaton was creepy and uncanny, but grew attached to him and his stupidity (/lh). i also think that Sam would be one of the few Walter workers who dont baby the Jon and actually treat him like they would treat any other robot :3

Also Jon just loves his robot family endlessly. shocker !! im not sure how explain it but i think hes the only one to look at other Walter automatons and go "bro i love them so much" at all times. in his head at least. obviously he teases them and argues with them but he wont think twice before accepting a hug from his siblings (except for Upgrade theyre rivals /j)

Speaking of Upgrade !! They feel the most sibling-ish to me (aside from Rabbit & The Spine) because they constantly poke fun at each other yet they still are willing to give each other help and comfort when needed. She once had to carry him all the way back to the Walter manor because they forgot to take some extra cans of crystal pepsi

Also Upgrade got in an accident once which caused her to have a fractured face for a couple of days, and Jon was there the entire time to comfort her and constantly tell her that shes still very pretty

Unlike with other robots, the food that Jon eats doesnt just fall through his uncovered jaw/run into his boiler or anything like this, instead it just. disappears. once he closes his mouth the food just vanishes into the unknown, yet Jon claims that he enjoys the process of "eating" (nobody knows how it works)

LITTLE GIRLS THAT GO TO SPG SHOWS LOVE HIM !! once the band finishes performing, he constantly gets pulled away by a small giggling pink-ish blob to join their tea party or hula hooping contest. thats why he has quite a knowledge on "girly" themes and educates other automatons on the matter

THATS IT FOR NOW TY FOR READING :3

[stxrvel]

something #2

hi guys! i think im enjoying writing short stuff better, bc i tend to get stuck with the longer ones. still gonna see how that will turn out. do you guys have anything in mind you want to read? i cant seem to find the inspiration to continue the projects i already have. i'll read you!! hope u like this! see u next time. love u <3

warnings: hateful acts, all against all, people (avengers) taking sides, mean reader

Sometimes, when Y/N went to the Tower, the atmosphere was not as uncomfortable as she imagined. She could even say that she didn't have such a bad time, but it still wasn't one of her favorite places. It was times like those that she could remember why she preferred the solitude of the Complex to the uptight fraternity of the Tower.

“Ah, that mission really was a disaster,” Sam Wilson was telling some story in the middle of the kitchen island, most of the group gathered around him, a huge scowl on his face, barely noticing a fidgeting Steve Rogers. Y/N occasionally returned to the conversation, too much on her mind at the moment.

“I don't think I've ever seen Fury so angry,” Tony Stark spoke next to her, sipping his coffee stretched out on the uncomfortable kitchen chairs.

“We spent about… what, two weeks in penance?” Natasha Romanoff shook her head, a grimace on her face as she remembered Fury's reprimand and the days following that terrible mission, as she approached Y/N with a green drink in her clear acrylic cup.

“And Fury's penances are to be feared. I don't think it ever occurred to me to be that reckless again,” Sam looked back at Y/N, reminding her with a glance that the topic of conversation had turned thanks to her, when she came into the kitchen along with Natasha and they decided the best topic of conversation was last week's disastrous mission. Sam may have wanted to be benevolent and show understanding, but she really couldn't care less.

“I wasn't reckless,” Y/N lifted her shoulders, absently sipping from the glass Natasha had reached for, sitting next to her with an amused expression.

“I second that,” the redhead waved her glass in Y/N's direction, earning a sidelong glance from Steve on the other side from the kitchen doorway.

“You weren't because it was avoided,” Sam mimicked her gesture, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms folded across his chest, his drink forgotten on the kitchen island.

“If it wasn't reckless what they decided to do, why in the same way do we have a veto?”

Sam didn't answer her, just as she expected, and barely smiled at Natasha as she clinked her glass against hers in a silent toast. The atmosphere in the kitchen had become somewhat tense, and for the first time she was pleased that Tony hadn't intruded on the conversation. Perhaps he was more in agreement with her than he would want to accept.

“If you're done,” Steve finally spoke up, standing in the doorway with tense shoulders, sending a hard glare at the redhead and Y/N, “Sam and I have to go.”

Wilson exhaled gruffly, grabbing his mug rinsing it in the dishwasher before following in the Captain's quick footsteps, not before sending a glare at the rest of those present in the kitchen.

“You don't know when to be quiet,” Tony spoke after a few seconds, as the sound of the elevator doors closing reached their ears. “That's why I like you so much.”

“It was obvious Wilson would side with Barnes, but I didn't think he'd be so openly against you,” Natasha moved to occupy the space next to Tony at the counter, right where Falcon had been a few minutes earlier. Natasha looked disgruntled, genuinely interested to know what was going on with Wilson, but Tony next to her was the manifestation of quite the opposite, with the corner of his lips cocked to one side and a bored gesture.

“Sam thinks it's my fault. He finds it impossible to believe that two people as righteous as Rogers and Barnes could do something so wrong,” Y/N replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Besides it hasn't been the same between us since what happened that time,” Tony tilted his head, blinking rapidly as if trying to rush the memories out. “They still hate us.”

“They hate me,” Y/N corrected him, earning an incredulous look from both of them instantly. Natasha frowned.

“You didn't do anything wrong, and they demonize us for being on your side. But some other people on this team have done worse,” the redhead tossed the comment into the air, and it seemed that the memories came very easily to each of them.

“Whatever it is, I couldn't care less,” Y/N stood up, taking the now empty glass and rinsing it in the dishwasher.

Natasha knew she was about to leave, so she broke away from the counter and changed the topic of conversation.

“Do you want us to make change?”

Y/N looked at the redhead with a bored expression. There was the possibility of requesting a change of mission with any team member once a month, and since it was just the beginning of November the shifts had been restarted. Last month Y/N had requested a change with Natasha because she was sure she couldn't spend too much time around her partner without wanting to hang him with her bare hands. She hadn't had any more missions with him up to that point and had the opportunity in front of her to avoid it, but this time she didn't want to take that option. She had a feeling something worse was coming.

“No, I'll be fine.”

“Do you think you can spend more than twenty-four hours with Scott?”

“He's stupid, irritating and annoying, but you guys know there are worse things in this life.”

“Worse things like the unmentionable?”

It was impossible to miss the look Natasha automatically shot Tony, which Y/N was sure if she had been standing next to him she would've elbowed the air out of him.

“Yeah, Tony, you're a genius,” Y/N rolled her eyes, grabbing her cell phone next to Natasha and moving to leave the kitchen.

But just when she thought she could have an enjoyable and uneventful day at the Tower, without this kind of incident, Barnes appeared just inside the entrance and it was instantaneous change in the mood. She even noticed Natasha and Tony stirring in their positions as if they were finding it hard to breathe amidst all the tension.

“Ah, you again.”

Y/N wasn't going to be the one to move to let Barnes in and judging by the look on his face it seemed he wasn't either. That was the way it was every time.

“You were also the last person I expected to see, actually.”

She'd seen that attempt at a carefree expression on Barnes' face a hundred times, but it didn't go unnoticed the way he tried to hide his quickened breathing or the indiscreet way he moved his eyes all over her face. His heavy, deep breathing almost convinced her of his disinterest, but she noticed the small changes and movements in his chest. It was impossible that after so long he could hide anything from her. Maybe that was why he was trying to convince himself that he hated her, because try as he might he couldn't figure her out after all that had happened like she could him.

But that was irrelevant. Barnes had long since ceased to be anyone in her life.

“Move,” was what she said, even though a couple of other things went through her head just to annoy him.

“You move,” he retorted, adopting a more relaxed posture.

Her blood boiled, almost certain that the veins in her forehead could be seen at that distance from how hard she was trying to hold back because just the sight of him was enough to upset all the chemistry in her body that deeply detested him.

With her dark gaze that she was sure could cut into his skin if it were physically possible, Y/N raised one of her hands to rest it on one of Barnes' shoulders, catching him completely off guard because he was surely expecting a hateful response that would incite an argument, as it did sometimes happen.

But Y/N wasn't in the mood for that, as many times. The times she took the time to argue with Barnes was when she had too much anger inside that she felt she had to take it out on something or she was going to implode.

So Barnes let his guard down completely, his bored expression changing to complete stupefaction and surprise, looking at her face and then her hand on his left shoulder. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Y/N understood at that moment the expression “like a fish out of water”.

It was at that moment of greatest cluelessness that Y/N used her hand to push the man who was almost twice her height. Barnes moved as if he were a leaf in the middle of a gale, a little use of her strength was enough to send the distracted man to the ground.

With the noise muffled by his clothes, Y/N walked past him as if nothing extraordinary had happened, with the restrained laughter of her companions behind her and Barnes' gaze following her until the elevator doors closed.

[likeadevils]

what songs from TTPD and TA are now yours? Which ones have spoken to you the most?

songs that are genuinely MINE

chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: i cried myself to sleep listening to this song on repeat on release night and for the life of me i cant tell you why. i think it’s a great example of her being older really deepening her writing— just that old scarred over longing of a possible life, a possible love, too far away to reach but close enough to brush past. also, the double edged sword of “if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say’ i loved you the way that you were’”— you loved me before i’d twisted myself into the shape i am now in order to keep my current partner, but also, you loved me the way i was, not the way i am now

i look in peoples windows: i wrote a poem with the line “im afflicted by the not knowing” in it!! inspired by the outside!! and by spending so much of my childhood reading by moonlight and spying on my neighbors through their windows!!! it was called where midnight lives!!! what the fuck!!!

robin: another song i sobbed hysterically to. i was a strange little violent child obsessed with dinosaurs it feels like a lullaby someone made specifically about 3 year old me.

songs that i’m obsessed with:

but daddy i love him: the bridge is just so fun to scream along to. everytime ive been in a car since the album came out ive played this at least two times just cause

fresh out the slammer: it’s just. the first verse??? the way the song stutters apart for the last verse??? this song takes the blurry muse conceit of the album and uses it to its fullest. also just the diminishing returns from “but its gonna be alright, i did my time”

i can do it with a broken heart: my first listen favorite

the smallest man who ever lived: the bridge????? the bridge???? the bridge???? a few of the negative reviews specifically mentioned this song as boring and for a millisecond i was so angry i could’ve exploded

the black dog: this is like, the platonic ideal of a taylor swift song to me. just that old quiet tragedy she can build out of little moments of hoping your ex will remember you when they hear your favorite song or not having known your last kiss was your last kiss or your ex still sharing their location with you. like, it’s just her at her best, but with the maturity to sing “and you jump up, but she’s too young to know this song”

i hate it here: people have talked about seeing reputation in the anthology but i think you can also see so much debut and it makes me feel so tender. also i genuinely don’t understand why people don’t like “if chose the 1830s but without all the racists” like?? it’s supposed to be a bit clunky?? the songs about the limits of escapism?? the line enhances both of those themes?? also “i’m there most of the year” is such a funny devastating relatable lyric to say about a daydream

thank you aimee: it’s not every day a song inspires you to send this message about something a child did to you (fuck you madeline!!! fuck you jessie!!!)

the bolter: avoidant attachment representation!!! i love that it takes the stuff she hated about herself in the archer and just accepts and loves them and appreciates what they’ve given her. i especially love it because bolt can mean like, crossbow bolts, so it’s a flip on the archer. also “bolt” is one of my favorite words i love all the different meanings

“the only thing that’s left is the manuscript, one less souvenir from my trip to your shores, now and then i re-read the manuscript, but the story isnt mine anymore” also just had me sobbing. there’s just. wtf!!!!!!

[ao3wasntenough]

Sam finally tell why he can't connect and refuse connect with kids and even dislike thrm. He finally told them

Sam : you forgetting I was human, WAS. Now I am not but Same time I never can be cybertron too. You ask me why I can't connect with the kids? It's simple because I can't feel what they feel anymore and I can't even understand what meaning being cybertron. Did you ever thinking that?

Did you ever thinking that why I dislike the kids so much because they are remaining me that I can be like them, I should be like them but I can't because of you. Because of you I lose that chance, now I am just weird robot that never can't be human or even robot self. Forever stuck in middle

Call me cruel person, everytime I see they happy , Every laugh, every smile , every affection they got from them parents or Autobots that like humans they have it's hurt me so much because I will never have that again.

They existence are mirror that I want smash and destroy so bad. Mirror that keep rubbing on my face that saying I should be like them

(Do you want put more something?I not really good at dialogue)

you hit the nail on the head

Acree is probably the Bot I could see bringing up and confronting the autobots with Samuel and how risky it is keeping him around the kids. She's grown to care about them, and while I think she'd also understand seeing a bot struggle to accept and get along with new teammates after barely surviving and changing so much. But she cares about the kids and their safety as a guardian. and Sam seems the greatest threat in the base to them and he's lashing out at everyone with little respect to Prime as a leader or anyone older and more experience makes him a loose canon they cant keep ignoring

And Sam would agree. Acree wouldn't say it but Sam would. He has to go. whether they can find and trust another autobot team open to having him him or he goes off under government surveillance (fowler would bring this up). Or "I hate the government more then I hate Starscream" witwicky chooses to strike out rouge/neutral

"I'm sorry I let you down Optimus..."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Samuel, this really is for the best. I am sorry we couldn't help you like you needed us"

"i-I know I'm not the best at long range communication, but I'll go where ever you call Optimus.. I always will... "

"As I will, I would always do what you would do for me Samuel. But I see now I couldn't understand you"

"I hardly understand myself too haha...Bye Prime."

I don't think he could have said bye to Bumblebee, He tried to be strong though so much. But being such a mess, and feeling like he once again failed to be helpful to the cause, and almost damage their relations to humans. he couldn't face bee a final time goodbye

[wastemanjohn]

I want so bad to ask for more of the fic where it’s John in Hell and f!Sam and f!Dean but I CANT REMEMBER THE TITLE😭 (also you’re amazing for titling your fics before you finish them)

hehe I didn't include it bc while it IS a work it is not in progress 😇 i still think about it tho and i really hope to finish it someday. and all the titles are very much subject to change haha

i thiiink i shared an early version of this scene with you before? anyway it's the only one without big gaps so have it haha

The last thing John sees before he dies is his wife.

Mary looks exactly as when she left him, on the night she went upstairs for the last time; grubby maternity nightgown, barefoot young mother glow, blonde hair like a ratty, fitfully slept in halo. A middle America angel materializing from the flames. 

Flames. Feels like one hell of a cruel joke.

It would be the gentlemanly thing to do to get up and meet her. But John can’t feel his legs.

Maybe it’s not a good enough excuse. Maybe the last dregs of his energy are being spent on trying to inflate his lungs with some kind of consistency, only managing small gulps of air seething with ash and black smoke, his crushed ribs shoving it out again. He can feel the heat from the fire on his face. See the hollow frame of the window he just plummetted through, three storeys above office block, bordered with the remains of shattered glass. It’s in his hair, his clothes. He lies on the sidewalk in a blanket of his own blood, gushing from the holes in his gut made by his own knife. From god knows where else.

But it’s okay, because Mary’s coming towards him. Out of that burning office block, untouched by broken glass, and when she drops to her knees beside him, she’s smiling. Smiling the way she used to smile, before the girls were born, before John had to work so much to keep everyone fed and clothed, before she got all disillusioned and he got all mean, before they had to tread so carefully around the cracks in their foundation. And Mary drops to her knees beside him, giving him that beautiful smile, that uncomplicated smile, like she’s just pleased he exists; that smile that was degrading in his memories like a nitrate print, never entirely captured in the photos stuffed in the back of his journal, the way photos are always just an impression, devoid of the live intricacies that make you love someone; and as Mary tilts her head and puts her hand with its pretty delicate fingers on his face, John knows this isn’t right. That whatever he’s feeling, it should be identifiable. More.

He’s very cold. His bones are cold. He feels a twitch in his throat, soundless attempt at a groan. The sidewalk feels like putty against his back.

Mary murmurs wordlessly. Soothing. Her hand comes down on his cheek, delicate, warm, the bump of her wedding ring. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here now.”

Her voice - god, so long since John has heard her voice, the lilt and cadence lost to time - 

“It’ll be good this time. Just you and me - it’ll be like it was in the beginning."

The beginning. The way the beginning always comes back.

“Just relax,” she says. “I’ve got you.”

She’s getting blurry. The fire rages on. And it’s everything John has wanted for sixteen years. To see her. Tell her how her little girls are grown, how they’re smart and brave and beautiful. Conversations he’s rehearsed in his head, kept in a vault for when he’ll need them again, for the afterlife he never really believed in; but when you’re lost, when you’re ripped torn up inside and you can never get what you want, you have to hold onto something. But now -

John draws in as much breath as he can. Uses it to tell his wife, “We really need to talk.”

Just saying it leaves him exhausted. He doesn’t think he ever said that to Mary.  Not the way she said it to him, when he’d be home long after the girls were in bed, working late or at the bar.

The way she stopped saying it eventually, the way she wouldn’t even look up when he came home, the way they became sexless roommates who quietly despised each other, tiptoeing around it with the mess of little girl toys on the floor.

Those memories don’t usually come easy to John. Funny how they do now. Of all fucking times.

Mary thumbs at his cheek. “We will talk,” she tells him, voice heavy like a promise. “We’ll have all the time we could ever need now. And I’ll tell you everything you could ever want to know.”

John can feel himself fading. How much is everything? 

The lick-hiss of the flames is meditative, kind of. Just five minutes ago, he thought he was hunting a simple spirit. It feels shitty and poetic, that this is going to be how it ends.

Anyway; not like there’s anything he can do about it. Nothing but watch Mary lay down next to him on the sidewalk, pressed into his flank, arm around his waist. His blood pressed into patches like paint on her nightgown. Covering her hand. She lays her head on his chest, ear to the heart that’s giving up the fight.

“I missed you,” she says. Lips soft against his ripped shirt. “Come with me, John. Come home.”

He can hear sirens. Hear them low and distant, like he made them up in his head. He’s very cold; but Mary feels warm and alive against him, and it’s all he’s wanted for sixteen years, and if this is how it ends then so be it.

“Come with me,” Mary says again. Tips of her hair stained with blood. “We’ve got all the time we could need. We’ll have eternity.”

It’s a good thing, John thinks, that they have eternity. He has a feeling they’re going to need it.