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!
‘“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.
toplamp