I’ve been playing games since I was a little girl and I’ve played a fair number of open world games. But one thing that always keeps surprising me in Breath of the Wild is the physics and chemistry.
Like…I’m used to “oh there’s a wall so there must be a door or a Specific Place to climb over” or characters who can’t get over knee high fences because of invisible walls. But here its “no just climb any part of the wall and keep going.”
I’m used to weather that looks pretty and makes for great screenshots. But in BotW it actually affects your gameplay. Rain makes rocks slippery and harder to climb. Lightning will strike you if you wear too much metal during a storm. Walking through snow actually hurts if you aren’t wearing good clothing or have a meal buff.
Arrows arc and drop off when you fire them. Square bombs fly differently then round ones. If you drop your weapon enemies will pick it up and use it. Horses can be tamed but will ignore your commands if you don’t feed and reward them. You can cut down trees for firewood or use them as bridges. Fire not only spreads realistically but will get blown in the direction of the wind.
There are so many small details and great touches its an amazing game and a refreshing new open world to explore.
I think an important philosophical point that we all have to consider, is that altruism as a concept is pretty rubbish. Altruism is the idea that you should do things that help other people and not feel good about it. Like you should just do it “because”, and like you should just do it “because” but the idea that you shouldn’t feel good about being nice is rubbish and you know, it’s one of things that puts too much pressure on people’s metal health. If you do nice things for your friends, if you do nice things for your family, if you’re a friendly person out and about in the public, if you do something to help out charities, then you should feel happy and proud of that. ‘Cause people generally in society, we are way to harsh on ourselves, people are really hostile to each other, people are always trying to bring each other down and find anything to be whatever. So if you, even if it’s holding a door open for somebody, you should just take a moment to think “and you know what? I like that I was nice to another person.” So don’t let anybody say “don’t feel good about that bake sale that you did for whatever reason”.
MUHAHAHA took the “breaking” approach on this day, someone who causes pain instead of receiving it! So here goes a yandere Chasie! Think i enjoyed too much to do the metal details might do more metallic stuff, other thing I enjoy are glitchy effects.
What are, or should be, the aesthetic differences between the armors of the different kingdoms, in your opinion?
Well, when it comes to aesthetic differences, there are two things to look at. The first and most obvious would be what designs would be used, but there’s also the question of what techniques are they using to ornament their arms and armor. We already know that Dorne paints shields, as Dunk tells us in The Hedge Knight. Depending on the skills of the craftsmen and the materials available in each region, we can see what techniques they would use.
A note about these pictures, these are from different eras during armor development, so they are used as conceptual pieces. Much of these are late medieval period, which might be just a touch beyond where Westeros is at the moment.
The North - I’d imagine that the North would be a place of very few frills. Catelyn mentions that Northmen like Ser Rodrik disliking frills. However, we do know that Rickard Stark’s armor was finely designed, as Jaime describes us during his recollection of Aerys burning him and talking specifically about the melting of the precious metals. I’d imagine that a lot of Northern ornamentation would be metal or fur. I could see the armor itself decorated with gold on the rivets and inlaid with any house crests. Here’s a nice example of a decorated rivet on a Scottish targe:
The Riverlands - Well, the Riverlands are a large area and you’d expect regional diversity between the different areas of the Riverlands. So, of course, you’d see more Westerlander-influences in places like Pinkmaiden, whereas places closer to the Bloody Gate might see more Valemen styles. However, I’d look for probably something closer to the styles of Bavaria for the Riverlander armor, with a nice patterned texture as you see here to evoke gently cresting waves.
The Iron Islands - While the culture itself would probably mock painted lords in their fineries as weak, buying fine ornaments with the gold price, the Iron Islands has too much metal and enough sensibility to understand symbolism that their armor would also be decorated. I’d imagine that Iron Islands armor would, rather than use precious metals, would instead use embossing techniques to put designs into the metal itself. This is a bit fancier than I’d expect the ironborn to use, but there would definitely be these sort of embossing on the nicer pieces of Ironborn armor, though most ironborn raiders would probably use lighter armor.
The Vale - The austere, highly rigid culture of the Vale would almost certainly be reflected in their armor. I’d imagine the armor would be ornamented rather simply, mostly with house crests and wings, while the rest of the armor would be gleaming white, perhaps silvered in places. Given the knight’s spend a good deal of time going against the mountain clansmen, developing a solid harness and a good suit of cased steel plate would be a high priority for the Vale to make themselves relatively invulnerable against the poorly-armed and poorly-armored clansmen. I’d imagine the Milanese style would suit the Vale, and here’s what it looks like:
The Westerlands - Almost certainly, Westerlander smiths would be considered the pinnacle of Westerosi metalcraft, since their region is rich in metal both functional and decorative. This is the easiest kingdom to determine decorations, since their vast mineral wealth would lead to gilding and silvering their armor, decorating them with gold and silver. This would probably be done through mercury-gildening, which is a durable process meant for things like armor. For large areas, gold foil would be adhered with mercury, while smaller, fine areas would use a melted gold-and-mercury paste in a 1-to-8 ratio, which would be painted on with a brush. The gold was typically applied over a layer of copper for better adherence, so it’s steel-copper-gold. Once this was applied, the piece was basically ‘cooked’ in an oven to vaporize the mercury and voila, finely gilded armor. For an elaborate piece, you can see here for the armor of the 3rd Earl Cumberland, George Clifford, which might be used for someone like Jaime if you add a couple lions:
The Reach - Given the high importance of mounted combat, the most distinguishing feature of Reachmen armor would be a very flexible skirt for use in horseriding (this would obviously be important in all kingdoms, of course), and of course, fine ornamentation. I’d imagine Reachmen would have rather ornate engravings on their helmets and armor, with fine embellishments, crests, and gildings, something that looks like this:
As for the rest of their armor, I’d say they probably would take after the Southern French style, again, finely detailed and engraved. Reachmen would probably also have richly decorated cloth to decorate their scabbards and the finest woven surcoats to showcase their wealth
The Stormlands - I’d imagine that the Stormlanders would invest in fine quality armor, to better resist Reachmen incursion. They would probably use coloring to color their armor. The color of armor depended on when the armor was removed from the flame (as in, what temperature it was), with the most desirable being a deep, rich blue, hence why it was called “bluing” the armor. The Stormlanders would probably have richly designed and ornamented armor as befits their warrior culture, and it would probably look like something in the German style, so like this:
Dorne - Fortunately, half the work is already done with Dorne. We’ve seen that Dorne prefers to use painting rather than metal coloration and stains. We also know that they wear robes over their armor to help with the heat, which helps give us a very distinct image that reminds me a little bit of Turkish janissaries:
The Dornishmen would probably decorate their robes and silks finely for ornamentation rather than their armor; it’s easier, more visible, and less resource-intensive. For their finest spears, they probably inlay their hafts with bone, horn, and tortoise shells for poorer houses, and mother-of-pearl and ivory imported from Essos for the richer houses.
It’s a quiet day– the best kind of day as far as Derek’s concerned. He’s settled on the couch, knee deep in the first half of next week’s required reading. His face is just barely out of range of a ray of sunlight that’s been steadily creeping across his living room floor towards him. In about twenty minutes that’ll become a problem, but for now?
The doorbell rings– probably the biography of Abraham Lincoln he ordered off Amazon. With a lazy stretch, Derek drops his book on the end table and gets up to answer the door–
–and the world spins–
–and he finds himself standing in a grimy, poorly-lit warehouse, staring down the barrels of at least six automatic rifles.
“Uh,” he croaks, hands twitching upwards on reflex, when someone captures his wrist in a vice grip and yanks. A rough voice shouts get down, dumbass! and he follows obediently, more out of shock than anything else. He folds his legs under him and throws himself to the ground behind some waist-high metal container, biting back a curse when he hits concrete elbow-first.
WinterIron AU, in which Bucky hears Tony’s voice in his head. Inspired by a prompt from @writemesomewords
“-adjust the parameters, let’s say, what, two point five percent? Or not, no. No, no, no, absolutely not. JARVIS, recalculate the maximum weight the metal could…yeah, just like that… Possibly have to exchange the caliumcarbonate-”
A voice, talking way too fast on not enough breath, is the first thing the Asset becomes aware of.
It’s familiar, the voice. The Asset can not identify its source nor its purpose. The voice does not share relevant information nor does it provide assistance during his missions. It’s just there, a quiet murmur in the Asset’s ears. An endless conversation that does not require the Asset to participate.
The voice is with the Asset. Always. The Asset does not know where it comes from or if it’s always been there. The Asset does not know the voice’s purpose but it does not hinder the Asset’s efficiency as long as the Asset does not allow itself to be distracted, so the Asset does not question it.
The voice keeps talking.
The Asset lies motionless, pressed to the ground, carefully outside the view of the scheduled guards. The mission requires stealth and patience and an impossible shot, things the Asset is used to provide.
The Asset adjusts the scope on the sniper riffle. Slows its breathing in concentration. Listens to the soft hum of conversation in its ears.
“-what do you think you’re- No. No, DUM-E, lift the plate, not find the lift! Will you stop-”
Pulls the trigger. Hits.
The Asset- He is confused.
His mission is wrong and he’s not sure why. The blonde he’s been hunting is strangeis familiar has started hunting him and that’s never happened before. The Asset doesn’t know what to do, finish the mission, who is this Bucky, why does he look at me like that?
It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.
“Being an obnoxious idiot must make it hard for the little bit of common sense you’ve got left to penetrate that thick skull of yours-”
The Asset He runs. The voice keeps talking.
The mission’s man’s name is Steve Rogers. His name is Bucky Barnes.
The As He is Bucky Barnes.
He knows that now. But he doesn’t remember what that means, doesn’t remember what it means to be Bucky Barnes, so he keeps running. Keeps listening.
“-what do you mean, it’s almost like I purposefully provoked him? There was no ‘almost’ about it! I’m not gonna apologise, did you even hear what- I’m not being unreasonable!”
There’s always something to listen to.
He Bucky keeps running. Rogers Steve keeps following.
He Bucky keeps running. Rogers Steve keeps following.
He Bucky dreams. Dreams of tears and begging and crying. Dreams of a trigger he always pulls. Dreams of missions and success and the taste of blood on his tongue.
The nights are too long, always sometimes. The memories hurt and shock and don’t change anything at all. They terrify him because they’re new and old at the same time, things he only just remembers yet somehow knew all along.
“-is only my forth coffee today, honest, I swear, why are you looking at me like that?”
He Bucky keeps running. Rogers Steve keeps following.
The voice keeps talking.
He Bucky wonders if it’s always been like this. He doesn’t know though, doesn’t remember.
So he Bucky runs. He Bucky listens.
The voice keeps talking.
Steve—Stevie, small, frail, sick—finds him eventually.
Bucky—protect, save, hold—lets himself be found.
“-Hammer technology, it doesn’t have to do anything! That it exists is an inexcusable offence on its own and you can quote me on that!”
Steve isn’t the same anymore and it’s both, good and bad, because Bucky isn’t the same either. It’s scary and worrisome and just plain wrong. Feels like he’s falling sometimes, the ground beneath his feet crumbling, just when he thinks he’s finally regained his footing.
The voice keeps talking.
Bucky is getting better, he knows he is. He hasn’t tried to kill Steve in almost two months, hasn’t lost his composure in public in weeks. Bucky’s getting better, even Sam says so.
Of course he doesn’t know about the voice in Bucky’s head, the one that’s remained unchanged even after all of HYDRA’s programs have been erased. Bucky has no plans to inform Sam of its existence, hasn’t even dared to ask Steve about it, the only person alive who could tell him for sure whether this voice is a result from his years in HYDRA’s merciless hands or not.
Because deep down Bucky knows the answer, knows the truth and he doesn’t can’t allow himself to care. Not when it might mean losing the voice.
“I miss it. I miss them. But that doesn’t really change anything, does it?”
The voice keeps talking.
Bucky keeps listening.
The tower is tall, with too much metal and too many windows, cold and impersonal in a way Bucky has come to associate with modern architecture, but he had been fine.
Steve has been sure that he could do this. Sam hasn’t stopped insisting he was ready for the past month now and frankly Bucky has been willing to go along with whatever crackpot scheme the other man could think of, if only it would shut him the fuck up.
Bucky still doesn’t understand why Steve beamed when he said as much earlier this day. Not that it matters anymore because even as the elevator doors open Bucky knows he was wrong. They were wrong.
Bucky didn’t know that he hates silence, despises it, loathes it. He’s never had the chance to find out, until now.
“-can be somewhat, well, abrasive and even crass at times but he’s a good man, Buck, even though he tries his hardest to convince people otherwise-”
Steve is still talking but Bucky isn’t listening anymore, can barely remember how to breathe when his chest feels so tight and his hands are cold, so cold and-
The voice is gone.
“Woah, let the poor guy get through the door before you hand him my psych eval, will you, Cap?”
An amused sharp voice speaks interrupts Steve’s ramblings and Bucky’s head snaps around so fast he can feel the pull in his muscles, not that he cares. Not when he recognises that voice, gets to hear it again after fifty-two seconds an eternity of agonising silence.
Bucky is staring at the other male, he knows, but he can’t bear looking away from warm, brown eyes that are familiar in a way even Steve’s haven’t been in far too long.
“So, you’re the second part of the two for one special deal on super soldiers, huh?” the strangerthe voice Tony Stark says as he crosses the distance between them. He spreads his hands, a wide, mocking smirk painted on his lips that reeks of challenge and antagonism and settles something in Bucky’s chest he hasn’t noticed had been knocked loose until now.
And for the first time since he fell from a train almost seventy years ago, the Asset, He, Bucky breathes.
‘Does that man have no pride?’ Nat speculates and you look up from your notebook to follow her gaze. She staring at Bucky who’s staring unashamedly at you.
‘Leave him be Nat, I think it’s sweet’ you defend him as you smile and wave at him. Your hand moves to your mouth to stifle laughter as he blushes and drops his glass of water which falls to the counter and smashes. He leaps up from his barstool when the water spills on him, cursing under his breath as it wets the front of his pants. Nat is openly laughing at him and you slap her arm to get her to shut up before getting to your feet and walking over to him as he examines the mess.
‘You alright there, Buck?’ you ask and his head snaps up to look at you, only blushing harder when he sees you looking pointedly at his crotch.
‘I just spilled my water, I swear’ he shouts and you put a hand on his arm to calm him down.
‘It’s ok I know’ you say, smiling reassuringly at him. He smiles nervously back and laughs a little. ‘C’mon I’ll go with you to change’ you say and you turn to leave with him on your tail.
As he follows he can’t help but let his eyes wander down your back and come to rest on your bum, bouncing enticingly with every graceful step you take. He always finds himself admiring the way you walk. It’s a simple thing but for him it tells him so much about you as a person. You glide along the ground with an elegance and a smoothness that he hasn’t seen in a woman since the 40s and you hold your head high, oozing self confidence with a perfectly calm composure. He knows you’re leagues above him, that you belong in a palace, waltzing down corridors and giving orders to servants, picking men to date from a long list of suitors each more worthy of you than he is rather than here in New York working for a man with too much money and a metal suit but he considers himself lucky just to be in your presence and expects nothing more.
You come to a stop in front of Bucky’s door and he walks straight into you, mumbling apologies when you turn to look at him. ‘Bucky are you ok?’ you inquire and he stares at you, apparently unable to form a coherent sentence or break eye contact as he babbles nonsense. You raise an eyebrow at him and he silently curses himself for being so stupid as follows you inside his own room. He hastily grabs a pair of clean jeans and slips into his bathroom to change so you move to sit on the edge of his bed when suddenly Nat hurries in and runs up to you, tears of laughter in her eyes. ‘He- he was just gawking at your ass the second you turned your back on him, oh my god’ she gasps and you frown at her, once again telling her to shut up. You’re about to tell her to get out when your phone pings and when you read the message you look up to Nat.
‘Steve wants to see me, I’ve got to go. Wait here and when Bucky comes out tell him where I’ve gone’ you command and she smiles sweetly at you.
‘Of course’ she coos and you roll your eyes at her before going to find Steve. Bucky comes out of the bathroom almost as soon as you have left and when he sees you’ve gone his face falls a little in disappointment.
‘Where’s-’ Nat cuts him off by holding a finger up and she strides purposefully towards him.
‘She got bored. You’re gonna have to do better than that Barnes’ he looks at her, completely confused as she continues. ‘You know (Y/N) likes you too right?’ she asks and his face lights up like a kid on Christmas.
‘Really?’ he gasps in disbelief. When she nods he goes to move past her. ‘Well I’ve got to tell her how I feel then’ he begins but he stops when Nat stands in front of him.
‘I don’t think so’ she says and he frowns down at her. ‘Yes (Y/N), for some unfathomable reason, likes you too. But you realise she could get anyone she wants right? She could date a millionaire or a prince or someone, anyone better than you. You have to step up your game, Barnes, if you want to become her prince. You can’t just go up to her and ask her out’ she finishes her speech and Bucky looks engaged with what she’s saying.
‘Ok what do I do then?’ he asks desperately.
‘Bring back that 40s charm, woo her I don’t know’ she pauses and pretends to shudder. ‘Buy her roses, write love letters, serenade her’ she says and Bucky nods along, buying into everything she’s saying. ‘And then she might consider being your girlfriend, and I know you want that don’t you?’ he nods eagerly before leaving his room and grabbing his phone to begin making plans.
You can’t help but snort a little with laughter when Bucky comes back from the entrance, well at least his legs do, his chest and head are completely drowned in several bouquets of roses. Steve comes over to help him carry them when he complains of a thorn sticking into his arms and when Steve asks who they’re for he peeks his head out and grins at you. Everyone else in the room, Clint, Tony, Wanda, Sam and Nat, all turn to look at you and you can feel your face heating up. You get up and rush over to him and Steve, relieving Bucky of the bouquets and placing them on the counter next to Steve’s haul. ‘You got all of these for me?’ you whisper and he nods happily. ‘There are so many Buck! It must have cost a fortune’ you say, staring at him in disbelief.
‘Four dozen to be exact. And don’t worry about the money, doll, you’re worth every penny’ you continue to stand and stare at him for a few more seconds before leaping up and wrapping your arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around your waist and revels in the warmth of your body, sticking his thumb up at Nat who nods and does the same in an exaggerated and patronising manner that no one seems to pick up on. ‘Do you like them?’ he whispers hopefully in your ear.
‘Bucky I love them’ you match his volume and the feeling of your breath against his ear makes his head spin. ‘This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me’ Bucky squeezes a little tighter at this and after a few more seconds he lets you go. You step back and look at the roses on the counter. Telling Steve to pick them up, you and Bucky find every vase you can and the three of you head off to your bedroom. When the door closes Nat erupts with laughter and everyone looks questioningly at her.
‘I told Bucky (Y/N) wouldn’t go out with him unless he turned on his 40s charm’ she howls with laughter and Wanda frowns.
‘And of course he’d do it because he’s absolutely infatuated with her’ Wanda sighs and tuts at Nat before turning her attention back to the TV and leaving Nat to laugh herself to tears.
You groan and roll over, hitting your phone to stop the irritating sound emanating from it. Of course this doesn’t work so you sit up, tap snooze on your alarm and are about to go back to sleep when a carefully positioned tray on your bedside table catches your eye. On it is a plate of pancakes, drizzled with maple syrup with a sprinkling of blueberries and raspberries and a glass of orange juice with a straw sticking out and your stomach rumbles at just the sight of it. You prop yourself up and reach across, pulling the tray onto your lap and lifting the piece of card held up by the glass. When you flip it over your pulse picks up when you recognise Bucky’s messy scrawl. ‘I hope you like pancakes, darlin. B xx’ your smile drops when you read what he’s written underneath it. ‘P.S you look so beautiful when you sleep, especially with that little bit of drool coming out of your mouth’ you groan again in embarrassment but set the note aside and tuck into the delicious breakfast in bed.
‘First question, why are you up this early? Second, why do you look so happy this early?’ you smile sweetly at Nat and dance over to where she’s sat at the counter over her bowl of cereal.
‘Bucky made me breakfast in bed’ you sing and her mouth falls open.
‘Seriously?’ she asks and you hum in confirmation. ‘Wish I could get me a guy that’ she grumbles and you grin delightedly at her.
‘That’s the thing that I’m a little confused about to be honest. First the roses then this, don’t you think it would be easier for him to just ask me out?’ you ask and she looks innocently up at you and shrugs.
‘He’s old (Y/N) maybe he’s just doing it how he remembers it’s done’ she says and you plop down on the seat next to her.
‘Huh. I hadn’t thought of that before’ you say and she grunts, probably still annoyed at your mood. You both turn to the door when you hear it open to see Steve and Bucky just returned from their early morning workout and when Bucky sees you he smiles timidly so you respond with a bright beam that sends his heart into overdrive. You slide off of the seat and skip over to him, taking his hand in yours and using your thumb to rub circles on his skin. ‘Thank you for breakfast, Buck it was delicious’ you say and he blushes and looks down at your hands.’But’ when you say this his head snaps up and he looks worriedly at you. ‘It would have been nice to have someone to share it with’ you look up at him from beneath your eyelashes and he inhales sharply.
‘I would’ve stayed, doll, but I had to train’ he nods to Steve and you smile at him.
‘Maybe next time then?’ you say and he once again blushes heavily, rubbing the back of his neck out of embarrassment and just managing a swift nod. ‘I’ve got to go’ you say, your mind drifting back to the unfiled mission report sitting on your desk. ‘See ya Buck’ you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek before brushing past him as you leave. He holds his hand up and ghosts his fingers over where your lips had just been, his eyes wide with shock. When he looks over at Nat and Steve they’re wearing the same expression and he smiles.
‘I don’t believe it’ he whispers. ‘It’s working’.
Late afternoon the next day you head up to your room to get book you’ve been dying to start but when you swing your door open and see a beautiful red dress lying on your bed you halt. Walking closer you see a piece of card similar to the one you found on your breakfast so you grab it and turn it over. Sure enough it’s Bucky’s hand on the other side and you smile as you read what it says. ‘I’m taking you dancing, sweetheart. Meet me downstairs in half an hour. B xx’.
You walk out of the lift half an hour later in the new dress and heels Bucky had bought you and you have to keep yourself from skipping with excitement for the evening. The dress he’d picked was perfect, the deep red, slim fit makes your body look incredible and highlights all of your curves. The sleeves hang off your shoulders, showing a modest amount of cleavage and it reaches almost to your knees so that your legs can be shown off in the red velvet six inch heels. Your makeup is minimal but your lips are painted a bold red to match your dress and your hair is softly curled. When you round the corner Nat, Steve and Sam are all crowded in a circle and you assume Bucky is at the centre from the questions they’re asking. You come to a stop a few feet behind Steve and clear your throat as they still haven’t noticed your arrival. They turn around and all of their eyes pop out of their heads when they look at you. They part to reveal Bucky holding yet another bouquet of roses in his hands, his hair slicked back and he’s wearing a button down and matching jacket and pants. When he sees you his lips spread into an appreciative smile as his eyes rake over your body. His eyes return to your face and he holds out the bouquet which you take but then realise that you’ve not got anywhere to put it. ‘I’ll take them’ Nat says and you hold them away from her.
‘I don’t think so. Knowing you you’ll keep them for yourself’ you say and she laughs.
‘You’ve already got 48 you’re not gonna miss another 12’ she groans and you hand them to Steve telling him to put them in a vase with your others. Bucky holds his arm out and you link yours with his as he leads you out of the door.
It’s midnight when you stubble through the doors again, your heels in one hand and Bucky’s hand in your other. You turn to him when you get into the common area and giggle a little when you trip, you’re a bit tipsy since Bucky had insisting on buying you glass after glass of high-end champagne. ‘Buck, tonight’s the most fun I’ve had in so long’ you say and he blushes and smiles at you. ‘Thank you so’ you pause to hiccup, ‘much’. He laughs and squeezes your hand.
‘(Y/N) I can assure you I had more fun’ he says, laughing again when you shake your head earnestly. ‘Come on, I’ll walk you to your room’ he says, partly because he wants to be a gentleman but also because he’s yet to give you a goodnight kiss. Nerves bubble in his stomach as you walk together to your room, still hand in hand and his heart races at the thought of finally kissing you. When you stop in front of your door you look up to him, into his eyes and then at his lips and he breathes in heavily. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and leans down, watching you to see if it’s what you want and when your eyes close he leans in faster. Your noses are brushing and your lips just about to connect when Nat yells your name from the end of the corridor.
‘(Y/N)! I’m so glad you’re back. Tell me all about it right now!’ she screams and Bucky takes a step back, releasing a short cough and looking down at the floor. He pulls you in for a quick hug and you whisper your goodnights before he turns to go to his own room. Nat runs up to you and just as she reaches your door you slam it in her face.
The next time Bucky goes out of his way to do something extraordinary for you is just the very next day. All he has told you is not to go to tonight’s movie night and to meet him outside at half past eight. When you’d asked what to wear he replied with ‘whatever you want, doll, you’ll look beautiful in anything’ so you’d decided on a yellow flower patterned sundress and yellow ballet pumps, leaving your hair to hang at your shoulders. You’re now sat in the passenger seat of a baby blue, classic, convertible Cadillac, the top down and your hands thrown in the air, laughing as the warm breeze plays with your hair. Bucky is at the wheel, stealing glances at you when he can and trying to calm the erratic thudding of his heart as he’s taking you to a drive in movie which, as he remembers from the 40s, is one of the most romantic dates he could think to take a woman on. He rolls up to the ticket booth and pays for both of you and you sit up to keep a look out for a good spot. When you see one near the front you jump up and hit his arm and he pulls up with ease. As soon as he cuts the engine he gets out and you follow him in sitting on the hood, immediately going to snuggle into his side and he puts his flesh arm around your shoulders. When the opening credits light up the screen you gasp and look up at Bucky.
‘Why didn’t you tell me it was Grease? This is like one of my all time favourite movies’ you exclaim and Bucky leans down to kiss the top of your head.
‘I know, doll’ he whispers and your heart skips a beat. About half way through the movie it starts to get cold and you shudder, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist to gain access to more of his body heat. Without thinking twice he shrugs his jacket off and you sit up as he drapes it over your shoulders. As you slip your arms into it you look timidly up at him, unable to keep from admiring the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, taught with the strain of the bulging muscle beneath. He pulls you closer by the lapels of his jacket and your bum slides easily across the metal until you bump into his side. ‘Baby, I know you love this movie but I-’ you cut him off by crashing your lips into his and kissing him hungrily. His metal hand snakes under his jacket and rests on the small of your back whilst his flesh one holds the nape of your neck. Your hands come to rest on his broad chest and you smile into the kiss when his tongue slips into your mouth and begins massaging yours. When you pull away you’re both gasping, pupils dilated and eyes darkened with desire.
‘I’ve wanted to do that for a while too’ you say, replying to his unfinished sentence and grinning from ear to ear.
‘You’re amazing’ is all he can find in himself to say and even this comes out in a choked whisper. You smile again as you press another kiss to his lips and he beams at you as you pull away.
‘And I’m all yours’ you say as he breathes out a disbelieving laugh.
‘Darlin, I’ve been all yours since the moment I laid eyes on you’ he whispers, making a mental note the thank Natasha when you got back.
prompt 143 "Just how stupid do you think I am?" for silverflint please??
* * *
They haul the shark carcass aboard the ship, the men
reaching out with eager hands. Flint tastes the meat on his tongue, savoring
the blood. He senses the wind change before he hears it and looks up watching
the sails, and then his gaze falls upon Silver.
Silver who’s staring at him with an expression of true
wonder, open for anyone to see should they care to look.
Flint’s teeth catch on a piece of flesh and he bites down
hard on the fragment of meat, forcing himself to still swallow. All this time
Silver hadn’t told him. All this time he had thought Flint hadn’t known.
Flint has always known.
It had been hard not to blurt out the truth when Silver had
first told him the lie, lying there half dead before Flint, sweating and
wounded and feverish and he still had the balls to look up at Flint with those
guileless blue eyes and lie right to his face.
“How stupid do you think I am?” Flint had said to him in his
mind that day and many days since.
Apparently stupid enough to believe that lie, for Silver tells
it to him and Flint, for whatever reason in that moment lets Silver believe that
he had sold it to Flint and so they
Flint makes a bet with himself, playing a game every morning
that he wakes. Will today be the day that
he tells me? Will this, whatever it is, another attack, a minor setback, a simple
glance shared between us, be the thing that causes him to tell me?
And every day the answer is no. Every day Silver keeps the
lie alive. Every day Flint draws closer to him because of it. He understands
the need for deception, the depths of betrayal and the costs of those agonizing
decisions you have to make and live with for the remainder of your days.
He thinks of all the
reasons Silver might possess for carrying out this lie. The greed for more of
the gold? It’s possible. The larger the share, the more freedom Silver would
have from the pirates, from the sea, from him.