May 6, 2018
Was just blessed with my first ko-fi. Am now sobbing like a little bitch in joy because see, mom, my shitty writing CAN put some money in the bank!
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Was just blessed with my first ko-fi. Am now sobbing like a little bitch in joy because see, mom, my shitty writing CAN put some money in the bank!
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‘“You’re made of marble,” Steve translates. Bucky was right, Steve sees it now. Steve could never paint her: he would have to sculpt, and search for her in the slab. He knows what Bucky was thinking of, even, though Bucky probably didn’t realize it himself. A mansion in the south of France; her unbelievable wingspan; the tilt of her ferocious shoulders. Faceless, and therefore many-faced. Just like Natasha. “You are,” says Steve, quiet. “It’s true.”’
It's just a fucking potato.
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