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brunchable · 2 months ago

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Meet Me On a Midsummer's Night.

Pairings: beefy!Bucky x F!Reader [ pre-established rs ] Warning: MUTUAL PINING. FLUFF. BUCKY SMUG AND A TEASING MF. PDA. Summary: On a hot night, you can’t fall asleep thinking about this and that— you finally call Bucky. You didn’t know he'd come out to meet you but he did. A/N: I've been digging my playlist and I stumbled upon my old korean hip-hop playlist. It's summer here in Aus and the song is about meeting someone they like in the middle of the night and this is the product. I'll leave the song here, and if you know this song, you're awesome.

The ceiling fan creaked overhead, pushing the thick, summer air around your room without mercy. You kicked off your sheet for what felt like the hundredth time, staring at the faint glow of your phone on the nightstand. Midnight, it whispered, daring you to do something impulsive.

Your thumb hovered over Bucky’s name in your contacts, nerves coiling in your stomach. The sensible part of you begged you to stop. But the other part—the part that lingered on his laugh too long, memorized the exact shade of his smile—urged you forward.

Your thumb hovered over his name in your contacts for an embarrassing amount of time. You bit your lip, debating, until finally—finally—you pressed Call before you could change your mind.

It only rang once before his voice poured through the speaker, low and warm like honey.

“Hey.”

His voice was warm and a little raspy, like he hadn’t quite shaken off sleep. The sound wrapped around you, and your lips curled into a smile you were too glad he couldn’t see.

“Hey,” you whispered back, trying not to sound too breathless. “What’re you doing?”

“Not much. Just… chilling.” A faint rustle came through the line, like he’d sat up. “You?”

You pressed your palm to your forehead, silently berating yourself. What were you doing? What was this? And why did your heart feel like it was trying to climb out of your chest?

“I, um—can’t sleep,” you blurted before logic could catch up to your words. “It’s the heat. Thought maybe… you’d want to meet up?”

There was a pause on the other end, long enough that you bit your lip and cursed yourself for saying something so ridiculous. Then Bucky chuckled, low and warm, like he couldn’t quite believe you.

“It’s midnight,” he said, his tone teasing. But then, softer: “Sure.”

You blinked, your stomach flipping in a way that felt entirely too much for someone agreeing to meet you.

“Cool,” you said, trying for nonchalant.

“Cool,” he echoed. There was a pause, and you could almost picture the amused quirk of his lips. “Uh… so… we actually need a meeting place, if we’re doing this.”

“Oh, gosh, yeah,” you stammered, flustered. Your fingers curled into the sheets as you scrambled for an idea. “Um… your favorite bar? Death and Taxes? That’s still your favorite, right?”

He laughed, soft and deep, like he couldn’t help himself. “Still my favorite. Death and Taxes it is.”

You could almost picture him leaning back against the headboard, his lips quirking up at the corners.

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

“Yeah… see you.”

The call ended, and you pressed your phone against your chest like it could stop your heart from breaking free of your ribcage. For a moment, you just sat there, letting the giddy, reckless feeling take over. You stared at the ceiling, cheeks warm, a wild smile tugging at your lips.

Then you bolted out of bed.

Your closet door creaked open as you rifled through it, tossing rejected options onto the floor. Something light, something comfortable—it wasn’t like this was a date. But still, you didn’t want to look like you’d just rolled out of bed, even though you absolutely had. You finally settled on a loose, flowy top and shorts, tying your hair back with a lazy knot and slipping on your sandals.

The walk to the bar felt longer than it should have, every step only adding to the fluttery mess in your stomach. It wasn’t nerves, exactly—okay, maybe it was nerves. It had been so long since you’d seen him. Long enough that you weren’t entirely sure if you’d even recognize him.

He wasn’t big on social media, wasn’t one for selfies or tagged pictures. Sure, you had the version of him burned into your memory—the sharp jawline, piercing eyes, the way he always looked like he belonged in a leather jacket, even if he wasn’t wearing one. But people changed. What if he’d changed? What if he walked up, and you had to pretend to place him? The thought made your cheeks flush with secondhand embarrassment.

You arrived first, of course. The bar was quiet at this hour, the neon sign glowing faintly against the brick wall, casting soft red and blue hues onto the sidewalk. You stood just outside, rocking slightly on your heels, the night’s heat sticking to your skin. The air buzzed with crickets and the faint hum of cars in the distance, but all you could focus on was the wild beat of your heart.

Would he even look the same? Would it be weird? Would he—

“Y/N.”

The sound of your name cut through your thoughts, and you turned on instinct.

The world slowed.

It wasn’t just a turn. It was a pivot, a gasp caught in your throat as your eyes found him. And oh. Oh, Bucky.

He stood a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of dark jeans that fit him almost criminally well. The kind of fit that made your brain short-circuit. His shirt was simple, black, stretched over broad shoulders that practically dared you to look away. His long hair, slightly tousled, caught the faint glow of the neon light, framing his face like he’d just stepped out of a movie poster. And that face. God, that face. The sharp lines of his jaw softened only by the faint stubble that made him look rugged in the most devastating way.

Tall, solid, impossibly handsome—this wasn’t the boy you’d known. This was… something else entirely.

“Hey,” he said, his voice lower, richer than you remembered, like he’d spent the years perfecting it. His lips curled into a small, almost shy smile, but his eyes—blue and bright—were locked on you, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You stood frozen, blinking up at him, every coherent thought scattering like confetti. It felt like the kind of moment people wrote songs about, the kind where the summer air turned into something magical just because he was in it.

“Bucky,” you managed, your voice embarrassingly breathy. “You… you’re here.”

“I am,” he said, his smile widening slightly. He stepped closer, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him even from a foot away. “You… okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Sorry,” you blurted, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “It’s just… it’s been a while. And you—” You gestured vaguely at him, your face hot. “You’re… you look…”

His brows lifted, his grin turning into something teasing. “I look…?”

Like a Greek god. Like a walking, talking fever dream. Like you’ve ruined every other man for me.

“Good,” you finished lamely, your voice pitching up slightly at the end. “You look good.”

His chuckle was soft, but it wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you caught the way his gaze swept over you. Not hurried, not lazy—just deliberate enough to make your skin tingle.

“So do you,” he said, his tone casual, but the way he said it—low, like it was just for you—sent your heart tumbling into your stomach. “Better than good, actually.”

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy as you tried to deflect. “What, like you expected me to show up in pajamas?”

He shrugged, that teasing smile still playing on his lips. “Wouldn’t have minded. You could probably pull them off.”

It was impossible to tell if he was joking. It was even more impossible to figure out why your brain was suddenly turning into melted butter.

“Anyway,” he said, glancing toward the bar before looking back at you. “Shall we?”

“Y-Yes, let’s go.” you replied, your voice steadier now, though your pulse was still racing.

He smiled again, the kind of smile that felt like a secret, like you were the only one who got to see it. Then he stepped aside, motioning toward the door.

“After you.”

You hesitated, glancing at him, then the bar. The thought hit you suddenly, startling and unshakable.

You hadn’t seen him in years, but in this moment—on this hot summer night—it felt like no time had passed at all.

× × × ×

The corner booth of Death and Taxes was quieter, tucked away from the hum of late-night laughter and clinking glasses. It wasn’t completely silent—the bar was alive in that effortless, summery way, the air buzzing with heat and conversation—but it was as close as you’d get. You slid into the seat first, leaving him no choice but to take the one directly across from you, where the glow of the dim light caught your face just right.

Not that he was looking too hard or anything.

Except he absolutely was.

“Two cold ones,” you told the waitress, already glancing at him for confirmation. Bucky raised a brow, smirking. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” you said simply, shrugging like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing. It was a beer at midnight in a corner booth with you. And he was about two seconds away from grinning like an idiot over it.

When the beers came, you both dove into the fries first—crispy, golden, hot—and he realized he’d missed this. You weren’t in a rush, just talking, the way you always had. The kind of easy, back-and-forth rhythm that made him feel like no time had passed.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, taking a sip of his drink before leaning back in his seat. “How’ve you been?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, your lips curving into a small smile. “Oh, you know. I haven’t really changed much. Still working hard.”

Your voice was light, but it made his chest ache anyway. He knew that look, the way you brushed off the weight of your own life like it wasn’t worth mentioning.

“I’m the same. Still working hard,” he replied. His eyes lingered on you for a beat too long before he asked, “You still dating that same guy?”

He shouldn’t have asked. He knew it the second the words left his mouth. But curiosity—or something else entirely—had gotten the better of him.

“Oh. Um, no.” You busied yourself with your beer, the glass cool against your hand. “We broke up.”

His heart gave a little kick, though he tried not to show it. “You guys broke up? Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He reached for a fry, half-smiling. “It’s good to see you anyway.”

“It’s okay,” you said softly, looking up at him again. There was something unreadable in your gaze, something he wanted to spend the rest of the night deciphering. “It was a while back. But it’s good to see you too.”

God, stop looking at me like that.

He leaned forward, his elbow on the table, watching the way your fingers idly traced the condensation on your glass. “Time goes by so fast, huh?” he mused. “We’ve already come all this way, but how come you haven’t changed at all?”

You raised a brow at him, playful but curious.

You tilted your head at him, your brow arching slightly, the corners of your mouth quirking.

“You’re still pretty,” he added, and though he chuckled, his words landed softer than he expected. Half-joking, yeah, but the truth was so clear it hurt.

Your reaction wasn’t what he expected. You looked down, your fingers brushing the rim of your glass as a quiet laugh escaped you.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said lightly, waving him off before quickly changing the subject. “So, what about you? Been up to anything exciting?”

Why are you changing the subject? The thought rolled through his mind, unbidden but persistent. His eyes lingered on your face, the way you avoided his gaze with that bashful smile. Is it because of the alcohol or because you’re shy?

He shifted in his seat, resting his chin on his hand as he leaned forward. “What, you don’t want me getting sentimental on you?”

Your laugh bubbled up again, the sound warm and easy, but you didn’t answer.

Yeah, he thought, watching the way you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, your cheeks just a shade warmer than before. It’s because you’re shy.

And god help him, it only made him want to say more.

Bucky took another long sip of his beer, the cool bitterness doing little to distract him from the way your smile lingered in his mind, soft and teasing. The overhead lights cast a warm glow on your skin, and he could see the faint sheen of summer heat clinging to your collarbones. You were leaning forward slightly, your chin propped on your hand, completely at ease—or so it seemed.

His thumb traced the rim of his glass absently, the thought bubbling up in his chest before he could push it down.

“I want to tell you something,” he said, his voice low but steady.

You tilted your head slightly, the curious quirk of your brow pulling his attention to the way your lips curved.

“Hm? And what’s that?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He swirled the beer in his glass once, then set it down deliberately, as if that might make this easier.

“I used to like you before.”

For a moment, he thought he’d miscalculated. That he’d said too much too soon. But then your reaction broke through his nerves like sunlight on water—a faint laugh, soft and disarming.

“I know,” you said, your tone light, but your gaze flicked to your drink, your fingers tracing the condensation on the glass like it might give you something to hold onto.

The simple words knocked the air clean out of his lungs.

You know? His mind stumbled over the implications. Had he been that obvious? Had you noticed the way he looked at you back then, the way he’d hovered just a little too long when you stood close, his fingers itching to brush yours?

He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat.

“Guess I’m a little drunk. Don’t mind my ramblings,” he muttered, leaning back like that would somehow lessen the weight of what he’d just said.

You gave him a look, one brow arched, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You don’t get drunk.”

Shit.

“I—uh—” His hand rubbed at the back of his neck, heat creeping up to his ears as he tried for a laugh. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to.”

Your smirk grew, but you didn’t press him further. Instead, you took another fry, dipping it in the ketchup and nibbling on the end. His gaze followed the movement like he had no choice in the matter, his thoughts spinning helplessly.

You knew? He wanted to ask, wanted to make you spell it out, wanted to hear it in your voice. Did you really know? Or was this some casual observation, something you didn’t think twice about while it had consumed him for years?

But then you glanced up, your eyes meeting his, and the warmth there—gentle, a little shy—unraveled something in him.

He leaned forward again, resting his arms on the table, his beer forgotten. “If you knew,” he said, his voice quiet now, almost teasing, “why didn’t you say anything?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but the smile that followed was soft. “Why didn’t you?”

His laugh was quiet, rueful. “Touché.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The noise of the bar faded into the background, the space between you charged with something unspoken, something almost tangible. Bucky watched as you took another sip of your drink, your lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, your lips brushing the edge of the glass.

“Do you still?” you asked suddenly, your voice tentative, like the words had escaped without permission.

His heart stuttered, the question catching him off guard. He could lie, brush it off like he had before, but the thought of hiding how he felt—after all this time, after you—felt impossible.

Instead, he leaned forward, close enough that he could see the way your breath caught.

“What do you think?” he murmured, his voice low, his gaze fixed on yours.

And the way your cheeks flushed, the way your lips parted ever so slightly, was enough to make him think that maybe, just maybe, you already knew the answer.

You let out a nervous huff, the sound breaking through the air between you, as fragile as it was charged. His words hung there, lingering like they had weight, like they could change everything if you gave them room. But you didn’t trust yourself to stay in that moment—not when his gaze was locked on yours like that, steady and warm and impossibly deep.

“It’s getting hot in here,” you said quickly, your voice pitched higher than usual as you slid out of the booth. “We should, um… we should take a walk. Go someplace else.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you dared a glance at him. He was leaning back in his chair now, his head tilted slightly, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. But then he nodded, standing with that same effortless grace that had always made him seem larger than life.

“Sure,” he said simply, his voice easy, as if he hadn’t just made your heart feel like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. He nodded, standing with that quiet ease of his, reaching for his wallet before you could protest.

You jumped up quickly, your excitement spilling over as you moved toward the door without waiting for him. The cool night air hit your skin as soon as you stepped outside, a welcome relief from the stuffy warmth of the bar. You breathed it in deeply, the summer heat still clinging to the pavement, but at least the air felt freer out here.

“We’re walking, huh?” Bucky said from behind you, his voice teasing but warm. “Got a specific destination in mind, or are we just wandering?”

“Wandering,” you said brightly, not slowing your pace. “Who needs a plan, anyway?”

You felt light, like your feet barely touched the ground as you walked ahead of him, your sandals clicking softly against the pavement. The streetlights cast golden pools along the sidewalk, your shadow dancing playfully as you moved. You threw a glance over your shoulder to see if he was keeping up, and the way he was watching you—his hands stuffed in his pockets, his lips curved into a soft, crooked smile—made something inside you flutter wildly.

“You’re gonna leave me behind,” he called, his tone mock-scolding.

“Then hurry up!” you called back, laughing as you skipped a few steps ahead, your movements careless and free.

For a moment, it felt perfect. Like something out of a summer dream, the hum of crickets filling the quiet spaces between your laughter and his easy steps.

And then—oh god.

A shadow darted near your face, too fast and too sudden, and you froze in the middle of the sidewalk. It took you half a second to process it—a beetle, its shiny wings catching the light as it buzzed straight toward you.

“AH! GO AWAY.” The words tumbled out as you flailed, stumbling backward and nearly losing a shoe in the process.

Bucky stopped in his tracks, his brows shooting up. “What the—?”

“BUG!” you yelped, pointing wildly at the air around you. “It’s flying! Do something!”

The beetle buzzed again, its wings making a high-pitched hum as it veered closer. You squeaked, ducking dramatically and running behind Bucky like he was a human shield.

He turned, his expression somewhere between concern and disbelief. “Are you serious right now? It’s just a beetle.”

“It’s not just a beetle!” you hissed, gripping his arm like your life depended on it. “It’s a flying. Look at it!”

He glanced at the beetle, then back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’re freaking out over that? It’s like… half an inch.”

“It’s not the size that matters!” you shot back, still cowering behind him. “It’s the intent! Look at it—it’s coming for me!”

That did it. He broke, his laughter spilling out in soft, rich waves that vibrated through his chest.

“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but he stepped forward anyway, waving a hand to shoo the beetle away.

When it finally buzzed off into the night, you peeked over his shoulder cautiously, still clutching his arm.

“Is it gone?”

“Yes, it’s gone,” he said, still chuckling. “You can come out of hiding now.”

You straightened, brushing imaginary dirt off your top as if that might restore some of your dignity.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Don’t mention it, bug magnet.” His voice was full of barely concealed laughter, and you turned to glare at him, but he only grinned wider, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Not funny,” you muttered, though you couldn’t quite keep the smile from tugging at your lips.

“Oh, it’s very funny,” he countered, and the warmth in his gaze made your chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the beetle.

And when his hand brushed against yours as you both started walking again, your heart skipped so hard you thought it might give out entirely.

× × × ×

The hill wasn’t far—just a short walk past quiet streets and through a small park. The city stretched out below like a sea of twinkling lights, the soft hum of distant traffic blending with the chirping of crickets. The air was still warm, but up here, a slight breeze brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of grass and something faintly sweet.

You spotted the bench first, nestled beneath a tall tree, its silhouette just visible against the glow of the city below. Without waiting for him, you made your way over, plopping down with a contented sigh and stretching your legs out in front of you. The wood was cool against your skin, grounding you after the walk.

Bucky followed, his steps slower, more deliberate. When he reached the bench, he hesitated for a moment before sitting beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched. Almost.

“Nice spot,” he said, leaning back and resting an arm along the back of the bench, his fingers just brushing your shoulder. His voice was low, casual, but there was a softness to it, like he wasn’t just talking about the view.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze fixed on the skyline. The city lights flickered like a million little stars, stretching endlessly, but you couldn’t help feeling like the real magic was sitting next to you. “I used to come up here a lot.”

“Alone?” His voice tilted just enough to make the word feel heavier than it should.

“Sometimes,” you said, glancing at him. His profile was sharp against the faint glow of the streetlights, his hair falling in soft waves that caught the breeze. You looked back at the city quickly, your heart tripping over itself. “It’s peaceful. Helps me think.”

“Think about what?” His voice was closer now, like he’d leaned in just a little. You felt the weight of his gaze on you, like he could see through every answer you wanted to give and straight to the truth.

“Stuff,” you said vaguely, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. “Life. Work.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he said, and when you glanced at him, his lips were curved into that crooked, teasing smile that made your chest ache.

“I’m not lying!” you protested, though your voice betrayed you, the words coming out more flustered than you intended.

“You’re thinking about me,” he said, so casually it took you a second to realize what he’d said.

Your head snapped toward him, your mouth falling open in protest, but the look on his face stopped you cold. His smile was soft now, his blue eyes steady and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “I take up way too much space in that head of yours.”

You scoffed, trying to sound indignant, but the laugh that followed betrayed you. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m right,” he countered, leaning just a little closer, his arm still stretched along the back of the bench. His fingers brushed your shoulder again, light and deliberate, like a dare. “And you know it.”

You rolled your eyes, looking away, but your lips twitched into a smile. “You’ve got a big ego, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, and when you glanced back, the grin he gave you was pure trouble. “But I’m not wrong.”

The moment stretched, the silence between you filled only by the faint breeze and the hum of the city below. His gaze never wavered, steady and unrelenting, and you felt yourself drawn in despite every effort to look away.

“You still haven’t denied it,” he pointed out, his voice quieter now, softer.

Your heart pounded, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “What’s the point? You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

He laughed softly, the sound rich and warm.

“You’re right,” he admitted, his smile tilting into something almost sheepish. “I wouldn’t.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your own laugh, but it slipped out anyway, light and breathless.

“Ugh.”

“I mean who did you call to meet you out here? At midnight?” he shot back, his tone lighter now, teasing but full of warmth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him, the way the light caught in his eyes, the faint crinkle at the corners of his smile.

“Maybe I should’ve called someone else.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up, his lips twitching into an incredulous grin. “Someone else?” he repeated, leaning in slightly, the faintest spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. “You wound me, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “I’m serious. Maybe Sam—”

“Sam?” he cut in, a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. He leaned back, spreading his arms along the bench like he was getting comfortable for the show. “You think Sam would leave his comfy bed and perfectly air-conditioned apartment to meet you at midnight? Please.”

“Well—”

“And don’t even say Steve,” he continued, cutting off whatever rebuttal you had. “You know he’s asleep by nine. The man’s practically a grandpa.”

You laughed, unable to help yourself, and the sound only seemed to spur him on.

“Face it,” he said, leaning forward now, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch. “I’m the only one you could call. You wanted me here.”

Your mouth opened, a half-formed protest on the tip of your tongue, but his expression stopped you cold. The teasing curve of his lips was still there, but his eyes—they were steady, intent, like he was daring you to deny it.

“I…” you started, faltering when you realized he wasn’t going to look away.

“Go on,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of challenge. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you managed, your fingers twisting in your lap.

“That you wanted me here.” His smile turned into something softer, warmer, but no less devastating. “That when you couldn’t sleep, I was the first person you thought of.”

Your breath hitched, and you could feel your face heating under his gaze. You tried to look away, to laugh it off, but he leaned in closer, his elbow resting on his knee, his face just inches from yours.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, his voice dropping even lower. “Admit it. It’s only fair.”

“Fair?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Yeah. I already told you I used to like you.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest second before finding your eyes again. “Your turn.”

Your heart pounded, your hands freezing in your lap, and you swore the city had gone completely silent around you. His eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unyielding, like he was ready to wait forever if he had to.

And god help you, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run—or pull him closer.

“Pft—it’s not like it’s going to change anything,” you reasoned, though your voice betrayed you, soft and unsteady. You looked away, focusing on the skyline instead of the man sitting far too close, his presence making it impossible to think straight.

Bucky didn’t move for a moment, letting your words hang in the air between you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, quiet—dangerously deliberate. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Your breath caught, and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing back at him. He was leaning forward now, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. But his eyes—they were locked on you, piercing, like they were unraveling every carefully constructed excuse you’d ever made.

“How is that wrong?” you challenged, though your voice wavered, giving you away.

He let out a soft laugh, the kind that felt like it had been pulled from deep in his chest. “Because,” he said, leaning back again, his arm stretching across the bench behind you, his fingers just brushing your shoulder. “It changes everything.”

Your stomach flipped, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” he shot back, and there was that teasing edge again, soft and warm but dangerous because it was him. “Tell me, doll, what happens if I kiss you right now?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs, and you froze, your hands gripping the edge of the bench like it might keep you grounded.

“You wouldn’t.”

Bucky tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—didn’t waver. He was studying you like you were some sort of puzzle, his gaze tracing every line of your face, every small movement you made.

“Wouldn’t I?” His voice was low, rough, like gravel smoothed over by honey. And god, it wasn’t fair, the way it made your skin prickle, the way it sent your heart into a dizzying spiral.

You turned your head sharply, staring out at the city like it might save you from whatever this was. But it wasn’t saving you. Not with the way he leaned just a little closer, his arm still draped casually over the back of the bench, his fingers now brushing against your shoulder. The heat of him was impossible to ignore.

“No,” you said, your voice firmer this time, but it still wavered at the end. “You wouldn’t.”

He let out a soft laugh, the sound so low and intimate it curled around you like smoke. “Why’s that?”

“Because—” You faltered, your brain scrambling for a reason, for any reason. “Because you’re all talk.”

Bucky’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened, his lips curving in that maddening way that made your stomach twist and your chest tighten.

“All talk?” he repeated, his voice a low murmur that slipped over your skin like silk. “That’s what you think of me?”

You swallowed hard, refusing to look at him, even though you could feel his gaze on you—hot, heavy, and completely unrelenting. Your pulse thundered in your ears, a wild, uneven rhythm that made it impossible to think.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat because suddenly, he moved.

He shifted closer, the bench creaking softly under his weight. His arm stretched further along the backrest, and when you finally glanced at him, he was right there. His face hovered just inches from yours, his blue eyes impossibly intense, locked onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

“How about,” he whispered, his voice low and rough enough to send a shiver racing down your spine, “you kiss me, and I’ll show you.”

You inhaled sharply, awareness flaring through every nerve in your body. Kiss him? God, he wanted you to kiss him? He was so close, his lips so close to yours, his warm breath whispering across your mouth. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, and the faint scent of beer and something unmistakably him made your head spin.

“Kiss me,” he said again, his voice low and almost hoarse. He was hovering near you, so tantalizingly close, but decidedly not kissing you. He was waiting for you to press your lips to his, but coming as close to you as he could. Tempting you, encouraging you, pulling you in.

Do it. The thought whispered through your mind, reckless and insistent. He was so close. So impossibly close. One small shift forward, and—

Instead, you faltered, glancing down at his lips. “You’re bluffing.”

His lips twitched into a small, infuriating smirk. “Try me.”

You felt drawn forward as if by a magnet. Lightly, delicately, you pressed your lips to his, feeling how much you trembled, how insubstantial and frail your kiss felt but unable to do anything more. You lingered for just a moment, and then pulled back, uncertainly.

Bucky remained still, not moving, so close, his chest now against yours. He didn't kiss you, he didn't smile, or say anything, and you felt an unfamiliar tremor of panic rise in you.

“I thought you said you'd show me,” you said ruefully, your cheeks beginning to burn. Had you done it wrong? Could a kiss be wrong? You could barely remember your name right now, let alone how to kiss someone.

Especially this someone.

“Oh I will,” Bucky whispered. “I'm just waiting for you to really kiss me.”

Something in the timbre of his voice, something in the drowsy desire of his words emboldened you. You leaned forward and kissed him more sensuously, taking his lips with yours, opening your mouth and savouring the fullness of his. And with only the slightest of pauses, Bucky took over.

He leaned against your heavily, almost surging into you, his mouth roaming over yours with a heady, sensual slowness that ignited you. His lips moved over yours possessively, with a slow, languid rhythm as his tongue dipped into your mouth to taste you. When his tongue met yours, you let out a little cry of pleasure, feeling an arrow of desire shoot right down to your core.

He groaned at the sound and dipped his tongue into your mouth and out again rhythmically, as if making love to you. One hand slipped around your back and held you while the other slid up to your breast and felt you, owned you, roamed over you like you were a longed-for prize. He groaned against you, and his kiss deepened into a hot, sensual exploration.

You felt weightless, boneless, all but liquefied by the heat of his mouth on yours and the strength of his hands caressing every part of you. His sounds of pleasure, his soft groans and heavy breathing, every male expression of pleasure made you even more desperate for him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down into you, kissing him with abandon.

There was no time for words, no breath to be stolen for the little flirtations of new lovers, there was simply this kiss. You fell into each other, seeking, needing, as if making up for all the years you had denied yourselves this pleasure. It was never enough, there was never a moment when it seemed right to part, never the need to break and bring lips to skin, or to fumble with clothing. It was all consuming, and erotic enough, this deep, soulful kiss, this meeting of mouths and breath and sounds.

You weren't friends...not now, and not ever, you suddenly knew. You had always been this to each other, always one breath away from this, always one kiss away. . one breathless, soulful, beautiful kiss.

Finally—finally—when the need for air had peaked, when the thundering of your hearts needed calming, he reluctantly pulled away, his chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. He smiled at you, a soft laugh escaping through his breathing.

“Now that,” he said, bumping his nose against you as his breath finally began to slow. “Is kissing back.”

Your fingers brushing against your own lips as if to confirm what just happened. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks, and you suddenly couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

“I—I should probably get home,” you stammered, your voice higher than you intended. “It’s late.”

Bucky’s brow lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he straightened slightly, his hand lingering at your elbow for just a moment before dropping away. “Alright,” he said softly, his voice warm and steady. “I’ll walk you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You think I’d let you walk home alone?” His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone shifting to something more serious, though the teasing lilt never fully disappeared. “Not a chance, doll.”

Before you could protest again, he was already on his feet, reaching out a hand to help you up. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers warm around yours, and when you stood, the faintest squeeze sent another ripple of heat through you.

The walk started quietly. The soft noise of crickets filled the summer night, the distant glow of the city lights casting a faint halo on the horizon. The air was thick with unspoken words, every glance and sidelong look charged with the memory of the kiss you’d just shared.

Bucky fell into step beside you, his pace unhurried but purposeful. You noticed it immediately—how he positioned himself closer to the road, his body a silent barrier between you and the passing cars. It was such a small thing, something most people might not even notice, but it made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering taste of his kiss.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy, the kind that made you acutely aware of everything—of the way his shoulder brushed yours every now and then, of the soft scuff of his boots against the pavement, of the way your heart hadn’t quite settled back into its normal rhythm.

And then, without warning, his hand brushed against yours. It was fleeting, accidental, but the spark it sent through you was impossible to ignore. You glanced up at him, your pulse quickening as you caught the way his lips quirked into the faintest smile.

He didn’t say anything—just slipped his fingers through yours, his grip warm and steady, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles. The gesture was so simple, so natural, but it felt monumental, like crossing some invisible line you could never return from.

You couldn’t help but glance at him again, your lips parting to say something—anything—but the words died on your tongue when you saw the way he was looking at you. His expression was soft, almost shy.

He didn’t look away, and neither did you. The streetlights flickered as you walked beneath them, their glow casting golden pools on the sidewalk, but all you could see was him.

“Are you always this quiet after a kiss?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and teasing, though there was a softness to it that made your heart flutter.

Your face heated, and you looked down at your joined hands, your laugh shaky. “Are you always this smug after one?”

He laughs.

“Depends,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again,“Was it good enough to be smug about?”

You shot him a look, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Wow, you’re already smug anyway. . .”

“And yet,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch, “you’re still holding my hand.”

You didn’t have an answer for that. Or maybe you did, but it was lost somewhere between the heat of his gaze and the warmth of his palm against yours. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit.

The walk to your door felt like it ended too soon. One moment, the quiet streets were stretching ahead of you, your hand warm in his, and now, here you were—standing on your front step with no excuse to linger.

Your fingers twitched reluctantly as you let go of his hand, the cool night air rushing in where his warmth had been. You caught the faintest flicker of something on his face—hesitation, maybe?—but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a soft, crooked smile.

The faint glow of your porch light cast soft shadows across his face, making the lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips seem even sharper, even softer all at once.

“I had so much fun today,” Bucky said, his voice quiet but steady, the kind of low timbre that seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest. “It was so good seeing you.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, your lips curving into a smile even as your heart ached. “Me too.”

He shifted slightly, the smallest movement that still felt impossibly significant. “Good night,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, almost hesitant.

You nodded, your own voice barely above a whisper. “Good night.”

But he didn’t turn to leave. Instead, he lingered, his gaze holding yours like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“You have a sweet dream,” he added, his words softer now, gentler, and they hit you like a warm breeze. His lips tilted into a small, almost bashful smile, and the tenderness in his expression stole whatever breath you had left.

You barely managed to nod, your throat too tight to speak. But before you could even think about what to say, he stepped forward, closing the space between you in one unhurried movement.

His arms wrapped around you, solid and warm, pulling you into him without hesitation. It wasn’t hurried or awkward—it was grounding, steadying, like he’d been waiting all night for this. The scent of him—faintly woodsy, clean, and musky—washed over you as his hands settled lightly on your back, and your face pressed against his chest. You could feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing, the strength in the way he held you as though he didn’t want the moment to slip away.

“Good night,” he murmured again, his voice rumbling softly against your hair. His arms tightened slightly before he finally, finally let you go, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary before dropping to his sides.

You stepped back, your heart thundering as you looked up at him.

You swallowed hard, your lips curving into a smile as you opened your door. “Good night, Bucky.”

As the door clicked shut behind you, you leaned against it, your chest rising and falling as you tried to calm your racing heart. On the other side, you imagined him standing there for just a moment longer, smiling to himself the way he always did when he thought no one was looking.

And somehow, that made everything feel perfect.

tags: @lomlbuckybarnes @winterslove1917 @hzdhrtss @mostlymarvelgirl

@missvelvetsstuff @unaxv @carnal-vogue @bmyva1entine @wheredidiputmyfish

@thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @wanda-widow @filmologetica @awaywithtime @Thealyrs

@greatenthusiasttidalwave @winchestert101 @strawberrybisou @unaxv @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fynnwolff @veronicapaula

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proqhetic · 11 months ago

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Could you write your head canons for what dating Lottie would be like? Sorry it’s basic this is my first time requesting 😅

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ ꪆৎ ˚ ⋅ dating lottie matthews hcs

cw: nsfw at the bottom, blood

when your relationship is just starting out, i think lottie would be extremely shy or reserved

i don’t think she has a lottttt of experience (compared to say jackie or nat), and she’s always kept to herself more, so she’d be extra cautious about not messing this up or making you uncomfortable in anyway

trusts you with the “weirder” sides of herself that she’s usually too embarrassed to show around others and you only love her even more for it

she’s so cute WAAAJSHAHSKFHAGJ

will do the pinky thing when she wants to hold your hand where she just lightly pokes your hand with it before you just full on take her hand in yours 😭😭

“lottie, we’re already dating. you can hold my hand.” “i just— i wasnt sure!” she defends herself while grinning, taking your hand in hers

her main love language is definitely gift giving!! she’ll gladly shower you in gifts and presents everyday if she knew it would make you happy

if you mention in passing about an expensive pair of shoes you’ve been eyeing for a while now or a funko pop of one of ur faves just dropped, expect to see it nicely wrapped in a bow on your bed by the next day <3

expect her to go ALL OUT for valentine’s day, christmas and your birthday in terms of surprising you with presents and parties.

matching halloween costumes are also on the agenda

cannot cook to save her life this point should just be canon (will try to cook breakfast in bed for you and fail miserably)

sleepovers at her house after soccer practice!!! you’d sit on the bleachers and watch her during practice with heart eyes like those cheesy high school movies while you wait for her

so. many. forehead kisses. (that height difference mmm)

light sleeper — (esp pre-dating) frequently wakes up in the middle of the night and has trouble falling asleep. your presence alone has been such a help,, she’ll have an arm wrapped around your waist or fall asleep tucked into the crook between your neck and shoulder while u play with her hair > <

but the second you crawl up to pee in the middle of the night you come back and see her awake and staring back at you all groggy and pouty hhjshdjehs

asks nat how to create a mixtape just so she can create one for you with all the songs that remind her of you

slips you those stupid post-its in class with the checkboxes that are like

“ hey.. i think ur pretty cute :) date tn? ▢ yes!! ♡ ▢ no :( ”

even though it’s been like a good few months into your rs

⚠️ — nsfw

secretly a freak but wbk… let’s be honest here!!!!

loves whispering the filthiest things in your ear when you guys are out with your friends just to see you get all worked up and flustered

that paired with her evil grinnn oh when her fangs poke out MMMMNNCMSBV i’m going insane

speaking of fangs… biting your lip/neck until she draws blood (vampire!lottie you will always be famous)

sooo whiny. non stop whimpering. even draws them out because she knows how much hearing her turns you on

needs to build some confidence around you and get over that embarrassed start but could definitelyy be the dom one if she wanted

sleepy sex is her favourite >_< waking up to two of her fingers already inside you as she greets you with a drawled “good morning babyy” and a chaste kiss as she adds a third finger in

#WE ARE SO BACK #lottie things 💭#.nsfw #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews smut #yellowjackets smut #anomz

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thesinglesjukebox · 7 months ago

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CHARLI XCX FT. ROBYN & YUNG LEAN - "THE 360 REMIX"

youtube

17 pop writers out here doing damage...

[5.94]

Taylor Alatorre: Elvis Presley/The Clash/OutKast = iconoclasts become standards, e.g. "Dancing on My Own" in RS 500 Greatest; "Elvis moment" = Eminem c. 2000; "lyrics on your booby" = hip hop mode of dominance over male competitors/listener, but femme-coded; "Robyn on the beat" + muffled "hey!" chants = long tail of DJ Mustard; camera flashes as skeuomorphic e-fame; demographic triangulation as art/alchemy; “no one understands it” + "so carelessly" = indie aesthetic of insularity/self-sabotage, still necessary for branding/coping; cult of the child star = youth’s gravitational hold over memory, easily exploitable; 1994 = beginning of Robyn's career, but also Max Martin's, represented here by apprentice Cirkut; Scandinavia as pop/anti-pop breeding ground; my dad: “cross between Britney Spears/Kesha" = highest possible praise for Charli song; he doesn't even know about "Till the World Ends" or "Die Young" remixes; conspicuous whiteness of collaborators + calculatedly ableist lyric video = winking at Dimes Square reactionary chic, though Benga is on "Von dutch" dubstep remix, and Robyn is Robyn; "pets/family" = emergent Millennial desires for domesticity, cf. "I think about it all the time"; Brat = niche pop stardom as crowdfunded perma-adolescence; Julia Fox in Uncut Gems + True Romance/"Ginseng Strip 2002" = sublimated wish for Eternal 2013, i.e. pre-Ferguson/Gamergate -> future blueprint for Gen Z conservatism? I don't see how I can hate from outside of the club – I can't even get in! [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: “360” is the most complete Charli pop culture moment (and video) we’ve had in years, and “365” perfectly wraps up the confessional, raw moments of Brat in delightful, utter mess. The first time I listened to both, I couldn’t help but think to myself how incredible it is that Charli’s self-reference comes across as effortlessly cool rather than cloying or annoying. I must have spoken too soon, because this remix is awkward. Yung Lean and Robyn sound fine, but “360” removed from the iconic hook is, just, not Julia (ah-ah-ahhhhhh). “Dancing on My Own” is one my favorite songs of all time—yes, I have big feelings—yet that can’t prevent me from cringing a little bit when Robyn references it. Two extra points, though, for Robyn saying the words "email" and “booby.” [7]

Jonathan Bradley: In “360,” Charli XCX has one of her most compelling songs in years: sharp and hooky, drawing on the hyper-pop palette but translating it into reinvented, broad-appeal synth pop. It dispenses with one of the more frustrating tendencies she’s had throughout her career, which is to make concepts rather than songs. “Boys,” for instance, was about the idea of Charli making a song about boys rather than actually evoking love or affection; “1999” was about the idea of ’90s nostalgia rather than anything distinct about the era. The remix of “360" (I won’t bother with the twee titles Charli’s used for Brat's various expansions) loses the focus and efficiency that makes the original so replayable and returns to concepts. It’s Charli with two more artists whose niche and highly online fanbases are noted for enthusiasm rather than size, and they don’t do anything more interesting than provide their names to be credited alongside her. For a posse cut that features each performer finishing one another’s sentences, they have zero chemistry and provide none of what makes their own work special. Robyn should be encouraged to never rap — her cutesy “Konichiwa Bitches” mode is her worst side — and Yung Lean… well, I’m not sure what appeal he usually adds, but he should also be encouraged to never rap. [4]

Andrew Karpan: Rustled up and confusing, neither Robyn nor Yung Lean succeed in turning the Brat opener into a SoundCloud loosie. Instead, their new, rattling voices make the song feel crowded, an email correspondence that pales in comparison to the more movingly distant Lorde remix that quickly overshadowed this glittery mess. [3]

Jackie Powell: What bothers me about this fascinating collaboration is that "360" loses what makes it most compelling. The original "360" is essentially a slice-of-life song. It paints a subculture and a social circle incredibly well and showcases Charli XCX’s ability to manipulate vowel sounds and write with such assonance and consonance. She’s a magician with how she can manipulate the name Julia (as in Julia Fox) into an earworm or an aria. Charli, Robyn (!) and Yung Lean definitely vocally complement one another. Lean’s rapping almost acts like a baseline, while Charli and Robyn harmonize with each other, talk-singing more than rapping during their respective verses. It’s also quite amusing when Lean hops into a pre-chorus that is supposed to pay tribute to Ciara’s "1, 2 Step" like the "360" original, but instead just sounds like an interpolation of Pitbull’s “Hotel Room Service”: When Lean says “supersonic, push up on it, right in your ear,” he sounds eerily similar to when Pitbull raps “we at the hotel, motel, holiday inn.” But what’s disappointing about the remix is that it’s so much less clever than the original: it's less redundant, but it doesn’t have as much purpose and direction. Also, I’m not sure how much of a remix this is when the only thing that remains is the instrumental. [6]

Harlan Talib Ockey: One of the great things about Brat is that Charli went in assuming she was talking to her closest friends, who know the world she moves in and the life she lived in the late ‘00s club scene. Hyperpop has always been obsessed with nostalgia, but this isn’t just about old pop and internet esthetics. It’s about Charli’s own experiences. “The 360 remix” only kind of carries this over for Robyn and Yung Lean. “Three child stars out here doing damage” sounds like it’s about to crack open an interesting train of thought, but it quickly veers back into "we got many hits,” rather than anything more revealing about their past or present. This remix also doesn’t reach the heights of the original (a [7], btw) without its soaring chorus; because the same riff underpins the whole song, it starts to feel like one very long verse. Plus: “now my lyrics on your booby”? [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The most extravagant act of self-mythologizing this side of the J. Lo autobiopic — I'm not quite as impressed by these three as they are, but I'm meta-level impressed that they managed to get in this many boasts in such a compact passage. Robyn sounds diminished relative to her standards, while Lean sounds enlivened after his recent stay in the Drain Gang Post Punk mines. Charli hits right down the middle — so it's up to A.G. Cook to pick up the slack, delivering one of his best beats since the heyday of PC Music. The taut synth riff sneaks perfectly in between the overlapping vocals, at once accentuating and playing foil to the melody. It's unspeakably stylish, cool enough to cover up what is ultimately a threadbare song. [7]

Katherine St. Asaph: The thing about pandering to nostalgia -- there are people who formed their personalities around Charli and Body Talk, and I'm sure Yung Lean was formative for someone -- is that it inherently causes listeners to think about the things they're nostalgic for. And this sounds like "Fembot" running on energy saver mode. [3]

Julian Axelrod: "The von dutch remix with addison rae and a.g. cook" is the sound of one pop scoundrel passing the torch to another and burning down the song from the inside. "The girl, so confusing version with lorde" is a parasocial inversion of its source material, deepening and resolving its initial conflict. By contrast, "The 360 remix with robyn and yung lean" is ... fun! And a little silly! And very Swedish! Charli's always been a pop nerd at heart, which is both her secret weapon and the reason she will never know peace. No pop star in their right mind would think, "I must turn my biggest single into a '90s boy band B-side where Robyn sings about her boobs and Yung Lean interpolates JJ Fad." That's the kind of sick shit only a stan would dream up. If this remix feels less essential than its brethren, it's because the original is such a complete statement on its own. It's easier to fill in the cracks on an album cut than build upon perfection. [7]

Brad Shoup: Huge whiff to not go the "I Got Five On It (remix)" route and make this a true Swedish pop posse cut. Rednex can take a lap as the best band with a fiddler since Alabama. Whale gets their flowers for putting on the hobo' humpin' slobo girlies. Army of Lovers can take credit for... damn near anything they want. Get Petra Marklund bragging about changing the trance-pop game. (It would be a nice 360 moment.) As it is, this remix ends up a tribute to Robyn with some Ciara/Missy love tossed in. Lean takes the "1, 2 Step" baton from the Charli in the original, though he's never more engaged than when he's acknowledging that yes, Robyn's on the beat. That might not be true in all senses, but the couplet "I started so young, I didn't even have email/Now my—lyrics on your booby" was totally worth the wait. Charli's line about "three child stars out here doing damage" is really smart, really canny. Better than anyone I can think of, she embodies the child star's soul war: the twin impulses to dial into shimmering subcultures and to just phone it in. [6]

Nortey Dowuona: The problem with Charli XCX being the popstar of the future is that she is very much the popstar of the now. The ability to absorb newly born sub-genres born of nostalgia for the '80s/'90s and twist them into stranger, wilder forms is a current popstar ideal, not a futuristic one. When Robyn enters, you can barely tell her and Charli apart, so closely they've been tied together in being smooth, catchy and lithe -- their voices blend right into each other. Hence the presence of Yung Lean, whose clumsy, awkward flow disrupts the song and allows it the appearance of rough charm that AG Cook and Cirkut's scalpel-cut drumbeats prevent from emerging. Robyn seems happiest to be here, while Lean comes across as disengaged. That could count as cool elsewhere but feels apropos of nothing next to Charli, who is always on, no matter the cost. [6]

Mark Sinker: “Complicating, circulating / New life! new life!”: something sweet and funny to me that Charli is igniting old-school critical discourse where discourse is still found (“rockism” on bluesky; “auteur theory” on ilx), when both versions of this song are the words and moves of self-declared super-hot cyborgs stepping out and taking a fine narcissistic-mechanistic strut through in the city. Killing this shit since 1981 (complimentary). [9]

TA Inskeep: Pure fun, giving nods to 1987 Miami freestyle -- this would sound great bumping from cars that, y'know, go boom -- while Charli, Robyn, and Yung Lean party your body. I actually wish this track were denser and had more going on, because it could handle it; as is, it's great but yet too spare. [7]

Will Adams: In its original form, "360" was thin, its silly references obscuring the astounding insight that the rest of Brat offers. This remix does it no favors; the instrumental is unchanged, the earworm hook of "bumpin' that" is downgraded to "got that," and Charli and her guests pass the mic aimlessly. It was already inessential before it was rendered entirely superfluous by the superior remix that is "365." All that's left is me wondering which Robyn lyric someone got tattooed on their boobs. [4]

Oliver Maier: The "360" remix mercifully spares us a guest verse from Julia Fox, but still feels like a misstep -- perhaps the only one, in fairness -- in Charli's zeitgeist-conquering Brat campaign. The more I listen to the original, a near-perfect pop song that thrives on its conciseness, the more it feels like a strange choice for a repurposed posse cut. There's a tinge of the Pop 2 mix-and-match philosophy to the feature choices, but the manic, first-thought-best-thought intuition of that era is not so present here, and the poor Swedes sound a bit adrift. Lean just about holds his own, but Robyn's contribution is woeful, particularly for an OG brat. By the end, you're desperate for Charli's hook from the original to break through, but relief never comes. [4]

Ian Mathers: Sometimes when you call something a "victory lap" you mean it derisively, but this is an example of when the term feels both earned and positive. If I didn't love Robyn and think she deserves all the praise she can get, you could probably take a point or two off my score. I'm much less familiar with Yung Lean, but he fits in just fine, in the kind of way where despite never actually listening to an album I totally buy that he makes sense rubbing shoulders with Robyn and Charli. It helps that the original is so strong, and that Charli just takes the production and ditches the old vocals so she's more a part of this version instead. [9]

Alfred Soto: Charli's having fun, and I endorse her delight in sharing that burbling synth bass and ticking sequencer with her friends as if it were freshly opened prosecco, but this is a party where she's better off dancing on her own. [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#charli xcx #robyn #yung lean #brat #music #pop #pop music #music writing #music reviews #music criticism #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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quidam-sirenae · 1 year ago

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When I was first learning Spanish I said “estas bien?” To my mom becuase it didn’t register that “you good?” Is a very English specific question to ask and isn’t read as a question in other languages as often.

I commonly forget to add articles in other languages cause they just… don’t get used as much in English.

Ever since I learned about the subjunctive I’ve been very specific with my should/would/shall/let us/ect clauses in English even though it’s not really a thing in English anymore.

Welsh I constantly mess up and forget to add the yn because we don’t use a connector in English, and the mutations are even harder to get down.

I automatically emphasis Greek and Turkish words the way they’d be emphasized in English when that’s just. Wrong. But it’s muscle memory.

And sometimes when I’m reading an unfamiliar word in English I straight up roll my rs and change my vowels to pre vowel shift just bc my brain goes “new word? Must be Latin!”

(Also, I get welsh and Spanish and Latin double Ls messed up so often and my professors think it’s hilarious they always want me to read the illas and the ellas out loud)

i love it actually when nonnative speakers make mistakes that reveal how their native languages work.

lots of koreans online say they "eat" drinks which would assume they only have one word which covers the concept of consumption.

arabic immigrants in sweden (my mother included) have a hard time differentiating between "i think/i believe/my opinion is" which suggests that in arabic these different modalities of speaker agency is treated as one or at least interchangeable.

swedish speakers in english will use should/shall/have to/must with much higher nuance precision than native english speakers, to the point where they sound well awkward, because the distinction between these commands in swedish is much clearer than in english. i make mistakes between is/am/are and has/have constantly because swedish only has one pronoun covering all grammatical persons.

i've heard speakers of languages without gendered pronouns (finnish, the chinese dialects, and a tonne more) make he/she mistakes because it's hard(!!) to learn two or more gendered pronouns and when to use them correctly.

how neat is that?! it add a charm to international english usage in particular and make our appreciation of both our native languages and our learnt ones stronger...!!

#linguistics

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beromtr · 2 years ago

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How to Apply Nail Stickers

These days, it seems like everyone is opting for DIY nails. From press-on nails to traditional manicures, the possibilities are endless. However, if you’re looking for an alternative that pairs down your manicure routine, nail stickers should be on your radar. Nail art stickers are perfect for those who just can’t find the time to sit in a salon chair. Thanks to this buzzy beauty trend, you can give your nails a professional touch with fancy nail art designs and patterns right in the comfort of your home. Since nail stickers come with their own rulebook, it’s important for you to go through this guide before you test drive the trend. Follow along as we give you the lowdown on nail art stickers.

WHAT ARE NAIL STICKERS?

Nail stickers aka nail polish strips, are simply stickers with an adhesive layer on one side and a fancy design on the other. Nail stickers are typically available in pre-cut sizes that cover the entire nail, replacing polish completely, but you can also find them as smaller stickers that can be used to accent a regular manicure.

Of course, nail art stickers aren’t only reserved for cool designs. If you prefer to rock a minimalist mani, you can find options in solid nail colors that provide a clean-cut look. These allow you to skip the mess and dry time that often come with traditional nail polish.

ARE NAIL STICKERS SAFE?

Let’s cut to the chase: Are nail stickers bad for your nails? The answer to your question is a resounding no! As we mentioned above, nail stickers are made from nail polish with a bit of adhesive. Since nail stickers can peel off without damaging your nails, you’re totally in the clear.

HOW MUCH DO NAIL STICKERS COST?

If you’re searching for a budget-friendly manicure, nail stickers are just the ticket! Nail art sticker sets typically cost between Rs.99/- to Rs.299/-. So, your days of spending a pretty penny to score a gorgeous manicure are over!

HOW LONG DO NAIL STICKERS LAST?

Now that we have the basics on nail stickers out of the way, it’s time to explore how long nail art stickers last. When applied to your nails correctly, you can expect nail stickers to last up to two weeks. Keep in mind, the more precise your application technique, the longer your nail stickers will last.

HOW DO YOU APPLY NAIL STICKERS?

Ready to give nail stickers a try? Grab your set of nail stickers and follow our step-by-step tutorial to master the trend.

STEP #1: REMOVE OLD NAIL POLISH

Before you can apply your nail stickers, you’ll need to make sure that your natural nails are nice and clean. Set the stage by removing old nail polish that's left on your nails.

STEP #2: FILE YOUR NAILS

The overall goal is for your nail stickers to look like your natural nails. So, it’s essential to file and shape your nails first. Trim your nails and make sure that they’re even. Follow up with a nail file to shape your nails for a nice and smooth finish.

STEP #3: CLEAN UP YOUR NAILS

Place your hands in a bowl of warm water for a few minutes to give your nails a quick soak. Pick up an orange stick and push your cuticles out of the way for a fresh look.

STEP #4: SELECT YOUR NAIL STICKERS

Once your nails are dry, it’s time to whip out your nail stickers! Each set of nail stickers comes on a transparent sheet featuring various sizes so that they can work for people with different nail shapes and sizes. You can make sure you select the right size by placing the sheet over your nails. Once you have your stickers picked out, it’s time for some sticking action!

STEP #5: PEEL YOUR NAIL STICKERS

If you’ve tried nail stickers before and found yourself asking, “How do you get nail stickers off the sheets?”, it’s time to listen up! You should be able to remove the strip from its backing with just your fingers, but this may give you some trouble if your nails are extra-long or the stickers are super sticky. If that’s the case, pick them up with a pair of tweezers.

STEP #6: APPLY YOUR NAIL STICKERS

Gently place the side with the adhesive as close to your cuticle as possible. Smooth it down against your nail from the cuticle to the tip of the nail.

Note: If you’re using nail stickers as an accent to your base nail color, place the nail art sticker wherever you please and smooth it down for a seamless finish.

STEP #7: FILE AWAY THE EXCESS

If you find that you have a bit of extra polish strip hanging off of your nails, there’s no need to panic. Simply use a nail file to smooth away the excess for a clean finish. Repeat until you have a full set of nail stickers on your nails!

BONUS STEP: ADD A CLEAR TOP COAT

Want to give your nail stickers a shiny finish? Apply a top coat to your nails for a glossy effect.

HOW TO REMOVE NAIL STICKERS

Once your nail stickers start to lift at the edges, it’s time to remove them. Below, find three ways to get the job done.

PEEL AND GO

If your nail stickers have been in place for at least two weeks, they will probably peel off with ease when the time comes. Peel the stickers off from the lifted edge, and you’ll be all set.

ACETONE SOAK

A great way to remove stubborn nail polish stickers is with an acetone soak. Apply a small amount of petroleum jelly to your cuticles to protect your nails during the removal process. Pour acetone into a small bowl, place your fingers in the bowl, and let your nails soak for 10 minutes.

Once your soak session is up, use an orange stick to gently lift the stickers off of the nails. If the nail stickers won’t budge, repeat the acetone soak for an additional five minutes.

HOT WATER SOAK

Prefer to remove your nail stickers without acetone, but you’re having trouble? A hot water soak will do the trick. All you need to do is fill a small bowl with warm water and add a few drops of dishwashing soap. Place your hands in the bowl and allow your nails to soak for 20 minutes. Once the nail stickers are loose, you can gently peel them off.

#flower charm nails #butterfly charm acrylic nails #cheap false nails with glue

0 notes

beromtcosmetics · 2 years ago

Text

How to Apply Nail Stickers

WHAT ARE NAIL STICKERS?

ARE NAIL STICKERS SAFE?

HOW MUCH DO NAIL STICKERS COST?

HOW LONG DO NAIL STICKERS LAST?

HOW DO YOU APPLY NAIL STICKERS?

Ready to give nail stickers a try? Grab your set of nail stickers and follow our step-by-step tutorial to master the trend.

STEP #1: REMOVE OLD NAIL POLISH

Before you can apply your nail stickers, you’ll need to make sure that your natural nails are nice and clean. Set the stage by removing old nail polish that's left on your nails.

STEP #2: FILE YOUR NAILS

STEP #3: CLEAN UP YOUR NAILS

Place your hands in a bowl of warm water for a few minutes to give your nails a quick soak. Pick up an orange stick and push your cuticles out of the way for a fresh look.

STEP #4: SELECT YOUR NAIL STICKERS

STEP #5: PEEL YOUR NAIL STICKERS

STEP #6: APPLY YOUR NAIL STICKERS

Gently place the side with the adhesive as close to your cuticle as possible. Smooth it down against your nail from the cuticle to the tip of the nail.

Note: If you’re using nail stickers as an accent to your base nail color, place the nail art sticker wherever you please and smooth it down for a seamless finish.

STEP #7: FILE AWAY THE EXCESS

BONUS STEP: ADD A CLEAR TOP COAT

Want to give your nail stickers a shiny finish? Apply a top coat to your nails for a glossy effect.

HOW TO REMOVE NAIL STICKERS

Once your nail stickers start to lift at the edges, it’s time to remove them. Below, find three ways to get the job done.

PEEL AND GO

If your nail stickers have been in place for at least two weeks, they will probably peel off with ease when the time comes. Peel the stickers off from the lifted edge, and you’ll be all set.

ACETONE SOAK

Once your soak session is up, use an orange stick to gently lift the stickers off of the nails. If the nail stickers won’t budge, repeat the acetone soak for an additional five minutes.

HOT WATER SOAK

0 notes

seoberomt · 2 years ago

Text

How to Apply Nail Stickers at Home | 7 Easy Steps Tutorial |

WHAT ARE NAIL STICKERS?

ARE NAIL STICKERS SAFE?

HOW MUCH DO NAIL STICKERS COST?

HOW LONG DO NAIL STICKERS LAST?

HOW DO YOU APPLY NAIL STICKERS?

Ready to give nail stickers a try? Grab your set of nail stickers and follow our step-by-step tutorial to master the trend.

STEP #1: REMOVE OLD NAIL POLISH

Before you can apply your nail stickers, you’ll need to make sure that your natural nails are nice and clean. Set the stage by removing old nail polish that's left on your nails.

STEP #2: FILE YOUR NAILS

STEP #3: CLEAN UP YOUR NAILS

Place your hands in a bowl of warm water for a few minutes to give your nails a quick soak. Pick up an orange stick and push your cuticles out of the way for a fresh look.

STEP #4: SELECT YOUR NAIL STICKERS

STEP #5: PEEL YOUR NAIL STICKERS

STEP #6: APPLY YOUR NAIL STICKERS

Gently place the side with the adhesive as close to your cuticle as possible. Smooth it down against your nail from the cuticle to the tip of the nail.

Note: If you’re using nail stickers as an accent to your base nail color, place the nail art sticker wherever you please and smooth it down for a seamless finish.

STEP #7: FILE AWAY THE EXCESS

BONUS STEP: ADD A CLEAR TOP COAT

Want to give your nail stickers a shiny finish? Apply a top coat to your nails for a glossy effect.

HOW TO REMOVE NAIL STICKERS

Once your nail stickers start to lift at the edges, it’s time to remove them. Below, find three ways to get the job done.

PEEL AND GO

If your nail stickers have been in place for at least two weeks, they will probably peel off with ease when the time comes. Peel the stickers off from the lifted edge, and you’ll be all set.

ACETONE SOAK

Once your soak session is up, use an orange stick to gently lift the stickers off of the nails. If the nail stickers won’t budge, repeat the acetone soak for an additional five minutes.

HOT WATER SOAK

#Buy Nail Polish & Lipsticks Online #buy nail polish online #nail polish matte

0 notes

antiloreolympus · 3 years ago

Text

10 Anti LO Asks

1. Putting something out there, Minthe vs Apollo and why Minthe is a more interesting antangoist. We can all agree that Minthe’s worst trait is being abusive and Apollo’s for r**e.

If we take out Minthe’s abuse, she’s still a character by herself. She has her own backstory and her own motives. Minthe was her own force in the plot, she was a pre established relationship, with its own problems because both characters weren’t a match. She has her own friend group, her own life outside of hades and work.

Take out Apollo’s horrible action, his character falls a bit 1 dimensional. He’s a creep in sheep’s clothing right now, he’s obessed with Persphone, and her act of wrath didnt have anything to do with him yet he’s all over it. He’s Artemis’ brother but we haven’t really see them be siblings in awhile other than Apollo saying he wants a better life for his family, but we don’t know fully how they’re struggling (since Leto has a nice place and Artemis seems just fine.) Apollo just seems like he’s there to show off other characters (make Apollo look better, to cause conflict between Persphone and Artemis) but nothing of his own. Like even his motive to become king seems like it’s more for Leto than himself. He has Artemis and Hermès, but we really only see him talk about persphone.

I feel like RS write both these two characters with the extreme badness because she was insecure making these bad guys just bad, but personally Minthe would have been good bad guy without the abuse since Minthe already had a bad set up (self destructive, afraid of commitment, toxic friends) but Apollo just doesn’t seem much of a character, just something to make Persphone’s plot lines have conflict.

2. theres a part of me that feels bad for rachel, bc shes the first one to get the book deals, adaptions, etc on the western side, which means she has no one to learn from or what mistakes to avoid. thats why crumbs and other webtoons are taking more time into adapting them for print, its why theyre taking time (like lets play) to wrap up the story before getting tv producers involved, its why theyre making better merch deals, etc, they can see what rachel messes up on and avoid it, while she can't

3. I'm not going to hold it against RS if she has typos in her scripts or w/e, but I will question why at least four, if not more, people look at each episode and don't fix the spelling errors for her? Like they all have the files and scripts (I assume) so they should be able to fix them. Really I'm more concerned too the typos went into print too?? So even the publishers and designers didn't fix it either? Like this will likely be her only major project, why isn't more effort and care put into it?

4. its a fandom joke about how "funny" it is eros seems to actually be in love with psyche's disguise over psyche herself and im like?? how would psyche be ok with that? i get the idea is oh he loves her bc its actually psyche underneath it but he doesnt know? so from an outside POV (and his too) it just looks like he actually doesnt love her and moved on fast to really wanting this other woman instead. idk its so messy and just makes eros/psyche less viable, idk why the fans think its funny/cute??

5. i love how some of the book reviews are claiming the anachronism in LO is a deliberate choice of RS commenting on ancient values in modern times as opposed to the reality she just picked it for the aesthetics. pre-revolution france, modern day nyc, and sicily (??) gets more rep in LO than actual greece. the trial especially could have used anachronism with how many courthouses purposely look like the parthenon, yet it doesn't. it just seems like trying to make it deeper than it is IMHO.

6. ive seen so many LO stans shut down critics as "youre just poor" as if that means anything? i dont care if hades is rich, the issue is that LO has a massive class divide that hades and co created for their benefit (which was never in myth) with them abusing their citizens and power all they want w/ the poor seen as evil for pushing back , and in hades' case, literally owning slaves, which is framed as a good thing. sorry, why cant there be critique on this love letter to greed and capitalism?

7. ok so just like, try and ignore the slavery and how creepy is he and all that, but is lo hades even like ... nice? like im not joking, what about himm is genuinely attractive beyond rachel just saying so? what does persephone like about him beyond her initial lust? because yes lust aides in most relationships, but that cant be all of it. we know what hades sees in her (her body, her always doing what he wants, her never standing up to him, etc) but what does she see in /him/?

8. the fact the only thing LO has actually done from the persephone myth is just the kidnapping (which was all of two episodes in the first published three) while we're going into its FOURTH year and nothing else of the myth has even been touched on is ridiculous. why make a story based off this specific myth if you dont use it beyond the first three episodes? i get shes going for "deconstruction", but that doesn't mean break the whole mythology apart, throw it away, and make up whatever you want.

9. Since Rachel has bad same character syndrome; i think Thanatos and Thetis (the gray girl with teal) look like siblings instead of 2 unrelated characters 🤔

10. the thing with LO's obsession with Sicily is it's technically not /incorrect/, because HxP did have a lot of worship there. The problem is Sicily didn't even exist as a Greek colony until centuries /after/ HxP were already well established in Greece, which according to actual sources seems to point to their origins being on Crete, where others like Demeter, Dionysus, and Zeus get their origins from. IDK why she's so close to being accurate yet isn't. Maybe she likes the aesthetics of Italy more?

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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wercobubblvs · 2 years ago

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Nico: Are you a painting?

Percy: What-?

Nico: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Will: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG THEM OR SOMETHING-

#Will anxiously watches nico trynna flirt #hoo #pjo #percy jackson #nico di angelo #will solace #nicercy #jacksolangelo #solackson #percico #werco #hoo boy #it took me awhile to edit this post's tags #that i forgot wat i was supposed to say... o well #how werco got together was a whole ass convoluted mess #pre rs things

33 notes · View notes

aryastark-valarmorghulis · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 1.655 times in 2021

87 posts created (5%)

1568 posts reblogged (95%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 18.0 posts.

I added 2.962 tags in 2021

#art - 1027 posts

#wolfstar - 933 posts

#remus lupin - 239 posts

#sirius black - 187 posts

#fic rec - 136 posts

#rs - 118 posts

#marauders - 107 posts

#queue - 92 posts

#arya stuff - 66 posts

#my writing - 57 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#ugh is it bad that every time i see a fanart of those 2 i want to write something where they hook up and remus suffers a lot

My Top Posts in 2021

Idk if you’ve said this before, but what are some good LLaL fics? I’ve never been into them before but I loved yours so much I’d love to read some others that you like. Thanks!!

Oh, Anon. Thank you so much, it makes me very happy to hear that you liked my fic ❤ Those are my personal LLaL favourites (they’re all pretty old/not recent):

Adagio and we’ll not get anywhere, but we’ll go on by lupinely Ok, I know everyone read those two fics, but they deserve the hype and they hit me hard every time I reread them.

To Fill A Gap by sqvalors This one is part of one of my favourite series and ugh, sqvalors digs so deep that this fic reaches the most tender parts of me and it hurts in the best way.

Like Tinder for Ghosts and Leave the Children Behind by montparnasse Only one word: montparnasse.

What we Lost by toyhto Everything toyhto writes is perfect and this one is no exception.

The hush of waiting by victoria_p This one is heavy and light at the same time and it leaves me teary-eyed every time I reread it.

i can tell you the telling gets old by misandrywitch This one will give you so much nostalgia that you’ll be messed up for days and won’t even be sorry

121 notes • Posted 2021-05-13 19:55:01 GMT

Hi all ❤ I wrote a story. It’s the fic I’ve always wanted to write, and I finally did.

Before downfall

Rating: M Wordcount: 15K Tags: Lie Low at Lupin’s, Getting back together, Sirius Pov Summary: Sirius goes to lie low at Lupin's.

128 notes • Posted 2021-05-12 17:14:39 GMT

Inspired by the amazingly talented @mlim8 and her PERFECT, fun, sexy, wholesome Rembus and Hunter AU, I wrote this little fic, set in that ‘verse. Expect lots of sexual tension between Rembus and Hunter.

No rest for the wicked

Rating: M Wordcount: 2.7K Summary: “In the lovely village of Gryffindor, there's a problem: a demon, an incubus, is terrorising the villagers. Hunter Sirius Black knows everything about demons, but he has never met one like Remus.” - Evenings in the village are chilly and windy. Like any other remote village up north, Gryffindor is nestled in a narrow valley, surrounded from all sides by dark, sloping mountains, their summit hidden by a mist of clouds, dissolving into the grey, thunderous sky. Sirius observes what’s outside the window of his room – he requested a room on the third and last storey of the inn to have a good view of all his surroundings: a tailor’s shop, a baker, the huge soap makers’ brick building, thatched cottages in a row, all with shiny puddles of water in front of them, and a cobblestone road that twists and slithers. You can’t see the rundown church from here, but Sirius knows it’s there, feels it, to the west, on the outskirts of the village, half-covered by wild, overgrown ivy and surrounded by tall oaks.

Keep reading on ao3

128 notes • Posted 2021-06-25 14:59:10 GMT

Happy New Year, Wolfstar fandom ❤ (I know I’m late but who cares) Here’s a short happy fic with a lot of pining ❤

I wanna be your boyfriend

Rating: T

Wordcount: 3.5K

Tags: Marauders Era // Canon Compliant // New Year's Eve // Friendship // Getting Together // Friends to Lovers // Pining // Romantic Comedy // Happy Ending // Fluff and Humor //

Summary: New Year’s Eve, 1976. Remus goes to James’ party and Sirius doesn’t know how to accept gifts.

Remus’ first New Year’s Eve party looks a lot like Gryffindor winning the House cup – or any Quidditch match: James and Sirius smuggle in the alcohol and entertain the guests, Lily pretends to lend her records reluctantly but she’s the first one to dance, Alice makes eyes at Frank and Frank makes eyes at Alice, both too shy to do anything else, Dorcas does her Slughorn and Dumbledore impressions that make everyone laugh, even Marlene who’s usually curled up in a quiet corner, and Peter, well, Peter talks to any girl who’ll listen, or at least he tries. Remus usually pours glasses of whatever foul beverage there is and shuttles back and forth between being the perfect audience for James and Sirius and keeping Marlene company. In the process, he manages to find the exact moments when Sirius isn’t watching him to pine at the sweet sight of him.

Read on ao3

156 notes • Posted 2021-01-03 23:18:21 GMT

Written for the Candy Hearts Challenge hosted by @goodboylupin.

I had the following prompt: ME & YOU, and I used it to write something a little bit angsty (but it has a very happy ending, I promise)

'cause you and me (we’re on the edge of the knife)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 3.5K

Summary: Remus and Sirius have an honest conversation after James’ stag party.

It’s the uncertain hour when late night and early morning blur together, and the starless sky is a nebulous ceiling above Remus, the rolling hills surrounding him shrouded in a damp, padded darkness that conceals the apple tree and Sirius’ motorcycle parked under it.

All Remus can see is the stone balcony railing, shiny with drizzle, and the orange butt of his cigarette, white puffs of smoke curling up and then dissolving lazily into the chilly winter air. The distant beat of music from the living room, dulled to a feeble thump by the Insulating Charm, doesn’t quite break the sleepy silence.

Remus can’t remember whose idea it was to smoke the mallowsweet picked from Sirius’ garden, but its pungent smell pleasantly prickles his nose and sharpens his mind.

Read on ao3

200 notes • Posted 2021-02-13 15:21:52 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years ago

Text

Wed[nesday] 8 October 1834

8 10/..

11 1/4

No kiss at my desk at 9 10/.. fine b[u]t windy morn[in]g F[ahrenheit] 60 1/2° at 9 10/.. a.m. finish[e]d my let[ter] to M- [Mariana] bef[ore] br[eak]f[a]st at 10 – th[e]n aft[er]w[ar]ds wr[ote] to ‘Mr. Hutton

14 Park st[ree]t Grosvenor Sq[uare] Lond[on]’ say[in]g th[a]t for inadvert[an]ce the box h[a]d rem[aine]d unop[ene]d

till the morn[in]g of writ[in]g and I h[a]d writ[ten] in a hur[ry] fancy[in]g I h[a]d bef[ore] p[ai]d £8 for each pelisse

and forgett[in]g th[e]re was any extra and send[in]g h[i]m a check on Hamm[ersle]ys for the addit[iona]l

£2.18.6 – wr[ote] als[o] to ‘Mess[ieu]rs Ja[me]s Milbourne and son 195 Strand Lond[on]’ h[a]d rec[eive]d the prints

on Fri[day] the 3[r]d inst[ant] ‘ver[y] safe and ver[y] well done’ and enclos[in]g a check on Hamm[ersle]ys’ for £14.4.6

qui[te] satisf[ie]d w[i]th the charge – wr[ote] als[o] to ‘Mess[ieu]rs Hammersleys and c° Bankers Lond[on]’

begg[in]g th[e]m to pay Hutton the 2 checks for £8 + £2.18.6 and Milbourne – aware my

acc[oun]t is so[me] shil[ling]s ov[er]drawn b[u]t will order the paym[en]t of £200 int[o] th[ei]r h[a]nds bef[ore]

the end of th[i]s m[on]th – H[a]d Mr. Parker – out w[i]th A- [Adney] at 2 1/2 and left the ab[ov]e let[ter]s

and my let[ter] to Mrs. Lawton 3 Cliff Scarborough for Geo[rge] to ta[ke] to the post th[i]s aft[ernoo]n

A- [Adney] copied for me the material part k[i]nd let[ter] – she perpet[uall]y in my th[ou]ghts – ‘so long as you

‘ass[u]re me th[a]t my let[ter]s are val[ua]ble to you, you are the last who shall ha[ve] to compl[ai]n

‘of me as a correspond[en]t’ – alw[a]ys delight[e]d to hear fr[om] h[e]r and effect[ivel]y and earnest[l]y anx[iou]s

ab[ou]t h[e]r - ..... ‘you rath[e]r surprise me by the sent[an]ce ‘I can[no]t qui[te] ma[ke] out wh[a]t you

‘mean by say[in]g ‘fr[om] the mom[en]t I delib[eratel]y told you my determinat[io]n’ – D[i]d I ev[e]r tell you

‘any determinat[io]n? I d[on]t rememb[e]r it’ – of course, you know th[a]t by the word determinat[io]n

‘I meant the break-off, wholly and sole[l]y y[ou]r own do[in]g in May 1832 dur[in]g the week I th[e]re sp[en]t

‘w[i]th you at Lawton – If to the lat[e]st mom[en]t of my life I rememb[e]r any circumst[ance]s th[a]t ha[ve] occurr[e]d

s[e]nt Miss W- [Walker] of Cliff hill th[i]s morn[in]g

the pheas[an]t and br[ace] of partridges

IN- [Isabella Norcliffe] Langt[o]n yest[erday] –

175

1832 [1834]

Oct[obe]r

‘to me, sure[l]y th[i]s one circumst[an]ce in quest[io]n will be am[on]gst the n° - your ‘shadow of turn[in]g’ h[a]d

‘flitt[e]d acr[oss] our path twice bef[ore], when. heav[e]n kno[w]s, my Lond[on] fr[ie]nds c[oul]d ha[ve] noth[in]g to do w[i]th it

‘direct[l]y or indirect[l]y – if they h[a]d an[y]th[in]g to do w[i]th th[i]s 3[r]d and last ti[me], it is eq[uall]y unkn[o]wn to th[e]ms[elves]

‘and to me, and is on[l]y a mortify[in]g proof th[a]t I w[a]s n[o]t w[i]thout reas[o]n to compl[ai]n th[a]t even you c[oul]d bel[ieve] me

‘influenc[e]d by motives w[hi]ch I ha[ve] alw[a]ys and honest[l]y disclaim[e]d – B[u]t, Mary. th[e]re h[a]s ev[e]r been a

‘film acr[oss] y[ou]r eyes to me; and th[i]s, perh[aps], sh[oul]d just[l]y bear the blame – you ha[ve] fear[e]d where no fear

‘w[a]s - you ha[ve] doubt[e]d where no doubt ought to ha[ve] been, - and why seek farther for reas[o]n

‘of our pres[en]t posit[io]n w[i]th reg[ar]d to each oth[e]r’? I say, and th[in]k, you determ[ine]d wisely for us both,

‘bec[ause] our happ[ine]ss togeth[e]r w[a]s beco[me] too diffic[ul]t – Rememb[e]r how you yours[elf] despair[e]d of it, fr[om

]

‘the ti[me] of our ill-fat[e]d journ[e]y to Holl[an]d – Howev[e]r aston[ishe]d and mis[era]ble I w[a]s when you 1st told me th[i]s

‘I ha[ve] s[in]ce kn[o]wn the val[ue] of it, and been grateful – B[u]t, God bless you, Mary! I can serve you

‘bet[ter] now th[a]n I c[oul]d ha[ve] done bef[ore]; and I can on[l]y say, th[a]t you may safe[l]y count up[on] my friendsh[ip]

‘and reg[ar]d – I shall be delight[e]d to see you at an[y] ti[me]’ – the ab[ov]e dat[e]d Sun[day] 5th inst[ant] the foll[owin]g p[age] 3 and

the ends dat[e]d today – ‘you say I nev[e]r ans[were]d the quest[io]n you ask[e]d me so[me] m[on]ths back – I hop[e]d and

‘fanc[ie]d the man[ner] in w[hi]ch I h[a]d notic[e]d it, m[i]ght be suffic[ien]t – Th[an]k you, my d[eare]st Mary, for the wish

‘may you be as hap[py] as you ha[ve] been’ – all the rest bavardage – out w[i]th A- [Adney] at 2 1/2 in the

walk – left h[e]r gath[erin]g acorns (of w[hi]ch she aft[er]w[ar]ds lugged ho[me] a large heavy bask[e]t full – wond[e]r

how she g[o]t it along) and w[e]nt to Wellroyde wood – Pickells h[a]d hack[e]d up ready for ivy in the morn[in]g –

he was gone at 3 p.m. – call[e]d to see old Mr. Wilkins[o]n at Haugh – out – his wife ill – met him

aft[er]w[ar]ds – Jos[e]ph W- [Wilkinson] n[o]t go[in]g to get coal th[a]t he (old W- [Wilkinson]) knew off of – th[e]n saunt[ere]d al[on]g the

Godley r[oa]d to H[alifa]x – call[e]d to ask Booth the shoemak[e]r how he did – out – th[e]n to Greenwoods’

ord[ere]d wardrobe accord[in]g to the last plan – to be £17 w[i]th rods and holders but unlin[e]d – they calculat[e]d lining

(flannel und[er]n[ea]th and brown holl[an]d ov[e]r it) at £3 – agreed for the wardrobe at £17 the lin[in]g

to be th[ou]ght of aft[er]w[ar]ds or let alone – Greenw[oo]d go[in]g to Liv[er]pool th[i]s day week and Hull next

Sun[day] week – to inq[uire] ab[ou]r so[me]one like[l]y to manage N[orth]g[a]te h[ou]se as an Inn if I laid out

£2000 on it, rent to be £250 p[e]r ann[um] for house and build[in]gs – the land I sh[oul]d keep free

to dispose of as I lik[e]d – Greenwood s[ai]d anoth[e]r mark[e]t w[oul]d soon be want[e]d and th[a]t w[oul]d

pay well – w[oul]d buy th[a]t best Riga logs (oak) at Hull – the memel oak [?] all

ways – w[oul]d deliv[e]r me inch Riga oak b[oar]ds, keep[in]g the outsides of the logs hims[elf], at

6 1/2d. a ft. at Shibd[e]n (he s[ai]d 7 1/2d. bef[ore] b[u]t I s[ai]d I had heard of oak to be h[a]d at Leeds

I bel[ieve]d at 6d. and meant to go ov[e]r) and pick[e]d deals at 6 ½ a ft. – s[ai]d I lik[e]d 21ft. the best –

br[ou]ffhr ho[me] fr[om] Whitley Geolog[ica]l notes by De la Beche – ho[me] at 6 20/.. – din[ner] at 6 1/2 – won 3 hits and lost 3 –

1/2 h[ou]r w[i]th my a[un]t till 10 10/.. – fine but ver[y] windy day – F[ahrenheit] 61° at 11 p.m. –

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insanityclause · 3 years ago

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I used to like Daniel Craig a lot. After his second Bond film I realized he had lost the spark so I quietly left the fandom. I would have remained quiet. But if not for him creating all these Bond rumors, Tom would not have been dragged into this Bond mess. If not for his terrible rendition of Betrayal, the play would have a better reputation among Broadway regulars and Tom’s version would have got more accolades. Yes I blame him for many bad things Tom has endured. I despise him.

I don't know that I'd blame him for everything, but he most definitely was about to leave, which definitely put the media into overdrive in 2016. And he didn't decide to return until shortly before it was announced in 2017 - he's admitted that. It was never a sure thing that he'd be back for a fifth film. Cary Joji Fukunaga has said that when he was pitching to Barbara Broccoli, (pre-Danny Boyle, I guess) they talked about others who could be Bond.

Anyway...

I didn't know that Betrayal had a bad theatre-goer rep pre-2019. Interesting. I do know the DC/RW/RS version didn't get great reviews, though it killed at the box office.

On the other hand, you can look at it and say, "Tom has more Tony nominations that Daniel Craig, and Jamie Lloyd's Betrayal has more Tony nominations than Mike Nichols'".

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polar-stars · 4 years ago

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☕️ + megumi and hojo?

(Give me a ☕️ + a character/ship and I’ll ramble off whatever thoughts and opinion I have about it)

Oho, interesting! Thanks for the ask!

Megumi Tadokoro

Megumi is a character I love and adore. She has given me no choice in that matter, lol. I cannot possibly dislike a character who portrays such a huge amount of real, genuine kindness. Adding to that, she's incredibly easy to relate to (I know that I am not the only one who does).

In my opinion Megumi has had some of the very best moments in all of Shokugeki, especially in it's earlier parts. The Shokugeki against Shinomiya in Trainings Camp is still my favorite battle in the whole manga after all. Her performance in the Autumn Election Premlins was also really satisfying and sweet to see. (Monkfish Preperation Scene Supremacy)

Tsukuda really did great on making Megumi a character that I really want to see succeed.....But that is where the problem comes in.

The problem is that Tsukuda struggles with the Show, Don't Tell-Rule from Central Arc onwards.

Pre-Central, Megumi's character development was solid in my opinion. It was believable and not too fast-paced. But once focus was shifted to Azami-Drama, Megumi and other characters had to take a little step back from the action. And Megumi's character arc started to stagnate.

Through Training Arc. Autumn Elections and Stagiares, Megumi had visibly gained some more confidence in herself and her stage fright problem from the beginning of the series was ceasing. However there was something missing: pay-off. Her character arc lacks proper pay-off.

You see, throughout all of Central Arc Megumi has not won any single fight on-screen. She was given one victory against Shigemichi Kumai but not even second of that fight was actually shown to the reader. But when it's time for a more detailed fight against Momo, she looses.

In her fight against Momo, the judges do find the time to point out tho that Megumi might hasn't been able to beat Momo however there is quote unquote ✨potential✨.

Thing is that the "potential"-thing has been getting old at that point. It felt very reminiscent to Megumi's fight against Ryo back in the Autumn Elections. Ryo was able to win, however it was made clear through multiple dialogue-lines that Megumi did give him a good fight, defying the expectations the audience had from her. So basically that fight was like: Yes, she lost now. But she is on the right path. There is a lot of potential.

The issue is that time has progressed ever since the AE and it was about time for us, the readers, to see that potential unfold.

But we never got that.

We get a lot, a lot of talking about Megumi's potential throughout Central Arc but never an actual showcase of it. And it does not get much better with BLUE Arc either (I mean, what do you expect from that trainwreck of an arc anyway?)

First off, despite all of her potential and her participation in the Regiment de Cuisine & the retaking of Totsuki as a whole Megumi somehow ends up with the lowest seat in the Neo-Elite 10??? And I'm just: Why??? Why is she the only explicitly ranked below Eizan & Nene (who got a massive downgrade) with everyone else far ahead? (Tho the Neo-Elite 10 Ranking as a whole is one confusing mess and I should probably stop trying to bring sense into it if I do not want to go insane, lol.)

The infamous Hot Spring Fight against a Noir is where we finally see Megumi shine a little on-screen (at least in the manga). And well....I enjoyed seeing that but...

It is still not the proper pay-off she deserves, I'm sorry. Because ultimately that Noir-Guy is some random One-Off we never saw again. And that's a problem.

This character had no time establishing himself to us. We barely know him.

To put it into perspective: Satoshi Isshiki beating Julio Shiratsu in the RdC did not feel like a very impressive thing. Because we have only come to know Julio in that one fight and had absolutely no judgement on how powerful he may be (not to mention, that he was mostly placed in a very ridiculous light). It would have been a lot more impressive to the reader had Satoshi won his later fight against Eishi Tsukasa, because Eishi is a character who we have spent a lot more time with and who has repeatedly been portrayed as absurdly skillful and an actual threat.

See what I mean? As much as I loved seeing Megumi being an absolute badass in that Hot Spring Saga...It was not the satisfying pay-off I want for her.

The few victories she gets are always against random One-Offs while her fights against the more important characters are always a loss for her. Case in point: BLUE. She gets anOTHER off-screened match against some Noir in Chinese clothes, whose name I won't bother looking up if he even has one, where all characters talk about how talented she is but once it's time for her to go up against big bad bitch Asahi she looses. And that sucks.

Not to forget the fact that Megumi always gets strung along to every big event but we never get much justification for her participation (other than the obvious Meta-Reason that she's a main character).

Think about it, her and Takumi got extremely lucky in Train Arc by having Rindou giving them a free pass just for the lulz, while everyone else got expelled. Then a good number of messy chapters later, Megumi and Takumi get invited into BLUE without even a shred of reasoning behind it. Why them? How random is it to invite the 1st, 7th and 10th seat but no one else? Meanwhile when BLUE Arc was first mentioned in the manga they told Jouichiro that it's actually extremely rare for a student in that age to get into this tournament. And Jouichiro was a 3rd year back then, what are those three 2nd Years doing there??

The anime at least addressed that by having Totsuki's students fight for the participation (I appreciated that, if only the episode that covers it wasn't so lazily done)

I'd have much less of an issue with that if they actually gave Megumi something to work with in that arc. But really in RDC and even more so in BLUE, she's mostly just there I feel. She barely really impacts the story meaningfully in both of these arcs, I feel.

And it's one big shame.

As I said, I love Megumi and Tsukuda set her up as someone who I wanted to see succeed and defy expectations. Her journey up till Central Arc was a lot of fun and very compelling but then it just...came to a halt. And her arc never got any real, proper closure I feel. She was instead pushed more and more into the background and she just did not deserve that, man.

Never forget that she is one of the mains after all and she should have been treated as one.

damn I did not think this would get this long ahhdhdf

Miyoko Hojo

When realising that Miyoko's speciality is Chinese cooking, I was super excited for her! I really love Chinese food and I've been waiting for it to be covered in Shokugeki up till that point.

I like Miyoko quite a lot, she's definitely one of my faves from the...well, I don't think "secondary" cuts it...the tertiary cast. Unfortunately we've got to see so painfully little of her.

I like that Megumi, in the most Megumi-ways, made her learn a lesson like "Feminism =/= You can not possibly get along with a man. Ever.", but it was also interesting to see acknowledgement of the inequality of men and women within the culinary business through Miyoko.

Miyoko's friendship with Megumi is something I adore and I would have very much liked more of it please. I enjoy the thought of Miyoko, this tough, unapproachable woman, having her face soften whenever this pure, little angel approaches her. Also 100% sure Miyoko would drop-kick whoever gives Megumi a funny look.

I also would have liked to see Miyoko interact more with Kuga, because I imagine it could have been a lot of fun. From the one, tiny interaction they've had I feel that Terunori actually respects Miyoko quite a bit. Which I think is interesting, because Terunori otherwise seems to enjoy bitching at people.

Honestly? If you ask me??? Miyoko should have been in the Regiment de Cuisine.

I'll never get over how she's shown in the audience, alongside Nao, smiling when the rebels are about to snatch victory. Like ahdhFJG, excuse me Ma'am what business do you have just watching??? You can not tell me that from what we've seen about Miyoko that she would not be up to kick Azami's ass out of Totsuki. I generally think it's stupid for the Rebels to go up against the Elites in a number even to them.

Azami. Explicitly told you guys. That you can bring more than that.

You were up against the Elite 10 Council.

YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED ANYONE YOU CAN GET!

YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED MIYOKO

(and Nao as well tbh)

(The Regiment de Cusine could have been a lot better to buy for me if the Rebels had shown up with more participants tbh but that's a different subject)

Anyways, as I said I wish we could have seen a lot more of Miyoko. But it just wasn't meant ot be :( I mean, when characters like Alice and Akira get pushed to the side, what chances does the tertiary cast have?

I'm at least glad that she is sort-off shown being the new president of the Chinese RS in Les Dessert 1? I like that for her.

But yes, ultimately...another criminally underused character. I look forward to write her being a cool mom in my fanfic tho.

#well #that was rather lengthy hdhfhf #Rambly Asks #Shokugeki no Soma #Megumi Tadokoro #Miyoko Hojo

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