#I've wanted to do this for a while but my brain wasn't cooperating

[filthyjoetini]

Stumblin' In

a/n: Hello loves! I'm back! And this time I've pre written 3/4 of a story...who is she?! I don't know her. Soooo...this little story will have four parts and is (very) loosely based on something that happened in Venice when I saw Joe...(still not over it tbh...heh). Thank you to my warrior editor and influence for this story @barfightzanddiscolightz. <3

warnings: none

wordcount: 1.9k (she's short)

part 2 - part 3 - part 4

You blinked rapidly, trying to adjust your eyes to the brightness that suddenly overtook the previously dimly lit screening room of the cinema you were sitting in. Your brain just wasn't made for such quick changes, especially while it was still processing what had just happened on screen. The film you had chosen to watch was one of those arthouse indie productions that attracts all kinds of people from all walks of life.

Slowly you pushed yourself out of the plush seat and stretched your arms over your head. Your ever-weary limbs and joints popped, and you feared that one of the at least 50 other people in the room had heard it. 

Taking your time, you picked up your trusty leather jacket, which had once belonged to your father, and pulled it on. You shoved your hands into its pockets to retrieve your mobile phone. As you checked your unread messages, your eyes moved from the screen to your Dr. Martens-clad feet. You had undone the laces, wanting to be as comfortable as possible. Shrugging, you began to walk down the aisle, the laces whipping your jeans-covered calves, shins, and other seats along the way. You told yourself you would tie them once you had reached the atrium.

With your face almost buried in the screen of your phone, you stepped to the top of the stairs and began your descent. Not even three steps down, you stumbled over your now tangled shoelaces and instantly lost your footing. With a small yelp, you practically flew down the stairs, right into the back of someone's legs. The abrupt stop sent your phone flying down the hallway and past the curtain, as your head snapped back, slamming into the steps. The impact made your breath catch in your lungs and you let out a small whimper.

"Oh my God! Are you alright?"

With blurred vision and eyes refusing to cooperate, you tried to make out who was speaking to you. You knew it was a man from the voice, but his features were a mystery in the blur. Your eyes not working the way you wanted them to made you let out a frustrated sigh. You began slowly blinking your eyes, hoping for a clearer perspective, before giving up and closing them completely.

"Hey! No! Open your eyes!"

You sluggishly opened them again, your vision still as blurred as before. Lifting your arm, you tried to touch the man hovering above you. The movement sent a jolting pain through your arm, up your neck, and into the back of your head.

"Ouch.", you hissed.

"'Yeah, ouch.”, replied the still blurry man. "Please focus on me, can you do that for me?"

 "Yep.", you lied. You couldn't focus on shit, because in addition to your blurred vision, your head was throbbing like you'd been hit by a freight train.

"Okay. Cool. You hit your head pretty hard. Can you move your legs?"

You made slow, jerky movements with your legs, wiggling your toes in your boots, not realising he couldn't see them.

"Okay. They work. Good! That means, no spinal injury.”, the man said, obviously relieved. "I'm going to move you now, is that alright?"

You nodded and immediately regretted it. Your head hurt like hell. How could a carpeted step hurt so much?

Warm hands slowly pushed under your arms and knees and then suddenly, but slowly, strong arms lifted you up and close to an even warmer body. As gentle as he was, the movement of your body was still very uncomfortable and made you whimper again.

"I know. I'm sorry.”, the man who was now walking spoke softly. As you both passed through the curtain into the even brighter hallway, you turned your head towards the man's chest to avoid the glaring overhead lights. You pressed your face into the fabric of his top and inhaled deeply. He smelled damn good.

"...is there a room I can take her to? She hit her head on the stairs when she fell. Also, could you call the A&E, I think she has a concussion."

"Sure, follow me please.”, a new feminine voice said and then there was a static crackle. "Henry, can you please call A&E, we have an injured woman with a suspected concussion."

"Copy. A&E is being called.”, came back Henry's very staticky voice over what you assumed was a walkie-talkie.

A few moments later you heard a door open and were carried very carefully into a small, office-like room.

"You can put her on the sofa. The paramedics will be here any minute."

Gently you were lowered onto the sofa. Gone were the strong arms and the warmth, and you began to shiver. Your eyes slowly began to focus, and you could finally see, though still blurred, the man who had been helping you. He was tall and handsome. His dark blonde hair was curly, and his face had a very patchy five o'clock shadow. But the most striking thing about his face was his huge, baby cow eyes, which were currently wearing a worried expression. Your gaze moved slowly down his body. He was wearing brown trousers with black loafers and a beige cable-knit jumper, topped off with a very expensive looking black trench coat. Visually, he was the exact opposite of you. You had opted for your usual all-black autumn outfit.

With a small but noticeable smile, you closed your eyes for a second and another shiver ran through your body. Unexpectedly, you were suddenly covered by a blanket. Slowly you opened your eyes to see that it wasn't a blanket, but the man's trench coat.

"Thank you...", you whispered. You were surprised at how weak your voice sounded, but the drowsiness that was slowly creeping up on you made it difficult to speak. Your eyes closed again.

"You're welcome...hey! No! Don't fall asleep!"

"But I'm so sleepy."

"I know, but you can't."

The man's voice was very close now, and as you felt hands cupping your face, your eyes shot open again. You looked up at him with wide eyes, he was kneeling beside the sofa and his own eyes held yours in an equally steady gaze.

“You literally can’t fall asleep because you took quite the tumble there, Humpty Dumpty and I’m 99 percent sure you incurred a concussion.”, he explained with a grin. "Besides, you keep moving your head when you should be holding it still. If I have to hold your face to keep you awake and mostly still, I will gladly continue holding it."

You didn't respond to him. You just kept staring at him and he had the audacity to just stare back at you with his big, wet, brown puppy dog eyes. 

A few moments later there was a knock on the door and two paramedics with a stretcher made their way inside.

"Hello there! You must be our patient.”, one of the paramedics said as he made his way over to you. He then looked down at Mr. Baby-Cow-Puppy-Eyes and spoke again. "Sir, may I ask you to move so we can examine her?"

"Uh... sure.”, he replied, taking his hands off your face, slowly rising to his feet. You groaned weakly as his fingers lightly brushed your jaw and he let out a soft snort before turning to the medic. "I was just trying to keep her awake. She fell down the stairs and hit her head on one of the bottom steps."

"Thank you.”, the second paramedic said, moving in to examine your head and neck. Your rescuer stepped back and moved to the corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest to wait. He was still in your line of sight, so you looked at him occasionally to make sure he was still there, and every time you did, he smiled sweetly at you.

"Ooookay.", the second paramedic said as soon as she concluded her examination. "You have a mild to moderate concussion and swelling on the back of your head. We need to take you to the hospital for a 24-hour observation."

You frowned at her, and she smiled sympathetically. "Do you want your boyfriend to come with us?"

"Who?" you asked, a confused expression on your face.

"Him.”, she said, pointing to the corner where your knight in a cable-knit jumper was standing.

"I'm not her boyfriend. I'm the one she collided with.”, he chuckled and shook his head.

"Alright, I'll take that as a no.”, the paramedic grinned at him and then down at you. "Are you ready to be hoisted onto the stretcher?" 

"Um...", you started, then suddenly panicked as you softly patted your jacket and jeans pockets. Your mobile phone - you didn't have it on you. "Wait! My phone! It must have slipped out of my hand or pockets when I went all humanoid egg earlier..."

Your reference to the handsome man's earlier statement made him burst out into laughter.

"She hasn't lost her sense of humour. Good.”, the first paramedic said with a chuckle, and began to lift you up by your feet, while the other paramedic assisted him by simultaneously lifting you up by your torso. The coat that still covered you was about to slip off your body if you hadn't grabbed it as if it were your lifeline. In a way it was your lifeline, for you were still cold, and the weight of the fabric did an excellent job of keeping you warm.

"I'll go look for it. Just give me a second.”, expensive trench coat guy announced, and quickly slipped out of the room.

Not even five minutes later he returned, waving your mobile phone in the air.

"Here you go.”, he smiled, handing you the phone but not letting go of it. "Please keep me informed about your condition." Just as he started to remove his hand from your phone, he added: "And you can keep my coat for now, but I want it back at some point."

"OK. I will, and you'll get it back... at some point.”, you promised, as the two paramedics wheeled you out of the small room. Halfway down the hallway you suddenly realised that you didn't have his contact details. How were you going to let him know how you were?

"Wait! Stop!", you shouted, making yourself jump more than the two people you were addressing. "Can you please turn around?"

"All right, but just for a second. We really need to get you to the hospital.”, the male paramedic explained impatiently, and they both turned the stretcher around and were about to push you back when you saw him standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

"I don't have your number!", you called, waving your mobile.

"Check your contacts.”, he urged with a wink, before pushing himself away from the wall and walking the other way. "Keep me updated!"

"I will!"

The two paramedics turned the stretcher around again and began to push it hastily towards the cinema's delivery entrance where the ambulance was parked. All the while, you unlocked your phone to see if he had really left you his number. He had to have. How else would he get his coat back?

Quickly, you opened your contacts app and there it was: a new entry.

Next to the emoji with the bandage on its head was his name:

Joe.

Grinning to yourself, you locked your phone and put it to your chest as the ambulance sped off to the hospital...

Taglist:

@ohmeg @daleyeahson @lma1986 @palomahasenteredthechat @mandyjo8719 @aysheashea @eddiebaemunson @littledemon-lilith @freakymunson @sidthedollface2 @i-wont-run-this-time @plk-18 @miserybeans @kylakins88 @deadspellz @thehillzhaveeyez @kayleeelena97 @foreverjosephquinn @punctualhowell @icallhimjoey @ghostinthebackofyourhead @siriuslysmoking @cancankiki @definitionwanderlust @eriancrow @1paire2vans @theonewiththecrackedmind @captainonaboat @josephquinnsfreckles @emilyslutface @alessxaa

crossed out = couldn't tag

[mrs-weasley-reid]

I love 'Cases and Candie'! Could you perhaps write one about the first time the reader does this with the team all confused? If not that's cool. ❤️

STARTING A TRADITION•••

bau team x bau!reader Cases and Candies prequel

Sypnosis: you have a lot of sweets up in your sleeves. WARNING: nothing. all fluff. A/N: OMG YESSSSS! This has been sitting in my drafts for 2 months but I've been so busy to post it! Sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy! <3

To say that the case was tiring is an understatement. The BAU team is shattered. Dozing off. Sore necks. Two weeks of an exhausting case rendered everyone overdue for an uninterrupted forty-eight hours of slumber.

Granted, the next few days were reserved for catching up on paperwork. A little slack off the weight of the recent case. Nonetheless, it didn't make any BAU agents feel better.

Your eyes barely managed to stay open while you got off the jet, almost causing a domino effect if it wasn't for Hotch's alert reflexes. You tripped on a step and were about to lay your weight on poor lanky Spencer Reid when Hotch caught the back of your collar, choking you awake.

The drive back to Quantico wasn't any restful than you'd hoped, either. Emily drove on the verge of dozing off, freestyling on the traffic lane. You, JJ, and Spencer were bombarded with honking cars and a few patrons cursing, all while praying for your lives to be spared. Surprisingly, you all managed to get to the parking lot in one piece.

In the elevator, it felt like someone had died. The silence was deafening, yet none of you disrupted it, submerging yourselves with little peace. In fact, none of you realized that the elevator doors had slid open until it lost patience and closed the doors.

Emily exclaimed, "The doors! Push! Push!"

Spencer absentmindedly jammed the button for the doors to open.

"That's enough, Reid." Derek placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder as he exited the elevator.

Everyone emerged from the small lift, sluggishly dragging their feet on the linoleum floor.

"Good evening," Strauss greeted with an apologetic look.

Rossi was the first to express his immediate opposition to whatever the section chief was about to say. "I told you," He turned to Hotch, "We should've just gone straight home."

Strauss sighed with a tight lip, "I'm sorry, everyone, but I need your brief action reports about your recent case by tonight." She would've turned a blind eye if she could, but the higher-ups were on her neck, too. She could only offer a pitiful, awkward smile.

Simultaneously, all of you groaned like children. But something caught your attention when you hoisted your go-bag under your arm.

You felt small pebbles poke on your side the tighter you held your bag close. And soon, it clicked. You remembered the small pouch of candies you bought on your way to the airport.

You had the habit of rewarding yourself with sweets, no matter how huge or small your deed was. So, when you saw the adorable packaging at the souvenir shop in the hotel lobby, you didn't think twice.

You planned to indulge in it when you got home, but your colleagues seemed to need the tiny reward as well. And as a kind and thoughtful human being—looking over the part where Derek stole your last chocolate bar—you decided to share your little source of dopamine.

Everyone slugged to their respective cubicles or offices.

Spencer's head dove into his desk, eyes blown wide and red. He was shaking like he was about to explode. It made sense for someone who downed three mugs of coffee, and yet his body couldn't cooperate with anything he wanted to do.

Emily repeatedly smacked the thin manila folder atop her head, "Absorb it. Absorb my brain. I don't wanna write!" She whined childishly.

Derek laughed at the two of them, unaware of him writing with a pen that ran out of ink. His grin dropped as soon as his eyes looked down on his paper.

Hotch finally entered the bullpen, returning from a short conversation with Strauss. His face no longer held his stoic expression but instead masked with exhaustion and frustration.

Before Hotch retreated inside his office, he leaned against the railing, looking over the three agents and you. "Just write as much as you can in an hour, then you may go." He announced and shut his door.

You quickly stood up, catching the other three agents' attention. You held a smile on your face, which left them confused and annoyed at the same time.

"No offense, but I really want to punch that smile off your face right now," Emily grumbled, fanning the folder on her face to keep herself awake.

"Yeah, I hate it too." Spencer agreed, rubbing his eyes frustratedly.

You rolled your eyes at Spencer, "Weren't you the one to say that smiling can trick your brain into happiness?" You reasoned, taming your excitement over a small piece of candy.

Spencer blinked slowly. You didn't need 187 IQ to know that he was planning your murder in detail in his head while he glared at you in silence.

"What about sweets?" You waved your small pouch in front of them. "This one was kind of expensive. I was going to share it with everyone, but I guess everyone is too tired for a piece of candy." You shrugged, slowly putting your hand down.

"Hold on!" Emily rolled her seat to peek over your cubicle, "Are those liquor-filled candies?"

Derek's ears rang, lifting his gaze up. "A what-what candy?"

"Each candy has alcohol. Well, most of them. I bought assorted candies." You said, drawing the boy genius in.

"D-did you know that eating s-sweets quickly goes from the stomach to the bloodstream and then to the brain, where it causes a surge in dopamine?" Spencer almost drooled as he followed the sway of your pouch.

You grinned teasingly, "Is that so?"

He nodded vigorously, licking the bottom of his lip as his eyes sparkled.

"Shoot," Derek winced, clutching his leg. "Kicking doors for two weeks makes you sad. I think a piece of candy that has brandy would help."

Emily glared at Derek, "I..." She craned her neck, pointing at the to-go cup on her desk. "I think the coffee burned my tongue! I need something to test if my taste buds are ruined. Say a candy or something." She glanced at your pouch.

"Halloween is a month from now," Spencer announced as if it was enough reason for you to give him a piece of candy.

You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Fine," You opened the pouch and faced it to them, "But only one for each. I'm going to share it with the others."

The three of them simultaneously grinned, racing on who gets to pick first.

"I wanted that one!" Emily hissed at Derek, who swiftly unwrapped the packaging and shoved it in his mouth.

"Hmm?" Derek jazzed his hands, smirking at Emily.

Spencer meticulously decided as if he was making a chess move. In the end, he chose a truffle.

"Ooo, what do we have here?" JJ chimed in as she walked in the bullpen, carrying a few folders.

You smiled and extended your arm towards her, "Have some sweets, Ms. Gorgeous."

JJ chuckled and raised a brow, "I am definitely taking your offer. This is rare." She quickly rummaged through the small pouch. After a few seconds, JJ grabbed another candy, a plain caramel-filled chocolate. "For Henry."

"Nah, that's for Henry's mom too," Derek interjected, pointing accusingly at JJ.

"If she's getting more, then I should too. Halloween candies are supposed to be more than one." Spencer's hand quickly dove inside your little pouch as if it was deeper than the ocean.

"Geez," You laughed after they were all satisfied to acquire another piece. "You guys can pass as scammers." You shake your head, closing the pouch in case another hand attempts to get a piece.

You then headed to Rossi's office, knocking softly. "Want some liquor-filled candy?" You peeked through the door.

Rossi lifted his gaze and was met with your wiggling pouch. He smiled and motioned for you to come in. "And when do you ever share your treasured sweets?" He said, putting his pen down to give you his full attention.

You snorted, "What do you mean? I always share." You giddily snickered, walking closer to his desk.

"I guess we don't have to talk about Spencer's one-week bruise during that one case..." Rossi shrugged and grabbed one candy from your pouch.

"He ate my last candy, Rossi! Not because it was in the jet's kitchenette doesn't mean he can eat it." You defended, grinning at his raised brow.

Rossi hummed in response, knowing not to press further.

You left his office not long after he thanked you for a nice red wine-flavored candy. So, your feet quickly brought you to Hotch's office.

"Come in." He said from behind the door. Hotch gazed at you with tired eyes, furrowing his brows when he saw your playful grin, "Can I help you with something?"

"Nope," You shook your head and softly smiled, standing before his desk. You placed a whiskey-flavored candy in front of his nameplate, "Great job on the case, boss." You put your thumbs up, then skipped out of his office like a toddler who's given permission to stay up past her bedtime.

He watched as you exited his door and almost tripped on the stairs down the bullpen. Hotch shook his head and flashed his rare smile, reaching for the candy. He popped it in his mouth, widening his grin when the bittersweet taste of whiskey spread on his palette. The next sentences on his action reports were written with less weight.

Down the bullpen, Penelope begrudgingly poured coffee in her mug, mumbling curses and how she would hack into the higher-ups' computers and spam them with ads. Action reports were not on her task, but if the team stays, she stays.

"Hey, beautiful lady," You nudged her.

"I love you with all my heart, but I am in no condition to be all happy, happy. I might choke someone who breathes next to me." Penelope sipped her coffee, tasting every single drop.

Your palm served as a platform for the little sweet, advertising the red-wrapped candy between Penelope's eyes. "I just wanted to offer the prettiest tech analyst a token of my gratitude in a form of candy. Will you accept?"

Penelope's eyes twinkled, her lips twitching into a smile. She carefully took the sweet from your hand and offered you a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sorry I doubted your intentions, my liege."

"You're forgiven," You giggled and gave her a side hug.

After having a little chat with Penelope, distracting her mind off the fact that you still had to write paperwork, you went back to your cubicle.

A small sticky note on top of your pile of manila folders greeted you.

I don't mind doing extra action reports in exchange for chocolate truffles — S.R

And who were you to decline such an offer?

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Hiii, I really love your fics and hc’s! Would you ever write a little something with gun- and/or knife play? With Cooper on either end of the action, because I feel like he’d be into it either way🫦👀

Much like with the primal play kink ask, I have plans to incorporate more knife/gun play into future works (I had a lot of fun with the bit of knife play that features in "Working Girl"), but I love this ask so I figured I'd give at least some flavor as to what I think you could expect from him.

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul Gun & Knife Play Headcanons (NSFW)

Most of the knife/gun play I've seen written for Cooper, at least personally, features him as The Ghoul, and I totally see why. I'd like to throw my hat in the ring, however, and say that I think he'd be almost equally as into it pre-war. Like many of the more "exotic" kinks he would sometimes fantasize about, it wasn't really Barb's thing, so he didn't explore it much during their marriage, but he'd be very agreeable to trying it with a new partner. Brings it up like it's a joke, but he's feeling out every aspect of your reaction to see if he thinks you'd be agreeable to trying it. He's patient and willing to start small; buying you nice lingerie and then slowly, adoringly slicing it off with a small foldable you both picked out together, sitting you in his lap and showing you how to clean/maintain one of his guns while the two of you rub against one another.

Doesn't really have a preference for whether he's the one wielding the weapon or not. In fact, I'd say pre-war Cooper likely leans towards preferring to be the one being "threatened"...stick the barrel of a pistol in his mouth and tell him to suck like his life depends on it and you're gonna get quite the enthralling performance.

Prewar!Coop's a curmudgeon for safety, especially if his partner is on the receiving end of whatever's being done. No live weapons, no very sharp blades. No weapon play at all if anyone's been drinking or partying in any other way. He may find the idea of doing it "for real" titillating, and it may sound amazing when he's drunk and he knows there's a hunting knife or a small pistol in the house, but not enough to forego the additional safety that comes from pretending a bit and waiting until you have a clear head. He'd never forgive himself if any harm befell his partner because he didn't take enough precautions. Besides, can you imagine the headlines...?

As The Ghoul, that concern for safety isn't entirely gone, but I'd call it "front-loaded". And, honestly, he isn't truly all that worried about anyone getting hurt; he trusts himself to have the control to not do you any actual harm, provided he isn't all fucked up. He has steady hands. No, his worry comes from the fear that you'll reject him for even asking, that it'll make you see him as the threat he is. The reaction he got from Barb the few times he playfully brought it up long, long ago is still bouncing around somewhere in the back of his brain. The fact that you like and trust him enough to sleep with him to begin with (and vice-versa, frankly) is a huge deal to him; he doesn't want to press his luck and send the only person he's really cared about in decades running away screaming because he struggles to fend off that primal desire to exchange a little violence.

Before, he may have been able to figure out a smoother way to say "It would really turn me on if you'd let me hold this gun to your head while you blow me." or "I want to hold this knife to your throat while I fuck you from behind.", but now he has so little room for error when it comes to keeping interactions pleasant and sexy. You'll probably have to bring it up first if the two of you don't experience some sort of perfect moment for him to do so, but he'll create opportunities for you to do so. Offers to teach you how to improve your shooting and hand-to-hand combat with mostly good intentions. When one of you gets the drop on the other, try to ignore the glint in his eye...and the bulge in his pants. He'll insist neither means anything.

Considers his desire to be the one being played with long put to bed, but he's lying to himself. In truth, he doesn't trust anyone enough to even have vanilla sex with them for a long time, and when he meets someone he does, he's still too afraid of the level of control he would have to cede to you for it to work. It would be hard to get him to agree to letting you brandish anything at him, even if you pointing a gun at him in seriousness (because let's be real, basically anyone this man has ever met has had plenty of reason to point a gun at him) makes him so hard so fast that his head swims. If you get him in a particularly tender moment, and maybe a little more intoxicated than usual, he might spill the beans a bit.

[almightyhamslice]

Tamataki and Chamataki redesign! They're basically functionally identical to their canon counterpart (which is to say, nearly a complete mystery) but with masks! And their faces are different and more like their real life counterparts. I've worked with turtles at a nature center before and they have very sharp beaks! I've had my thumb bitten by a palm sized turtle n it cut the skin. They are not playing around!

Tamataki and Chamataki (shortened to TamaChama when referring to both collectively) are a strange pair, as I don't think their physical condition is specifically why they're considered 'rejects'-- I don't think the banban mascots can just accidentally grow a completely new head, so TamaChama was likely created and sculpted as a double-headed character in the first place! Judging by their construction hats, they were probably meant to block off areas of the resort that needed work, or keep the public away from scenes of accidents or malfunctions. They're a walkaround character and they weren't 'unfriendly' per se, but generally if you saw them it meant something bad had happened.

The issue that the scientists had with the pair was primarily due to their conflicting temperaments and biology. Tamataki has his own brain and thinks as a turtle would, while Chamataki has his own brain and thinks as a chameleon would. Of course they have things in common (both prefer to move slowly and like to lift heavy objects) but the two heads often clash, trying to hurt each other. Tamataki, having a sharp beaked mouth, would usually win and overwhelm his brother, and they'd both have to be tranquilized and patched up. They both have esophagi connected to the same stomach, so Chamataki would often try to deliberately harm his brother by eating sharp objects and waiting for Tamataki to regurgitate them, cutting his throat. So the two are unpresentable to the public due to fear they'll kill each other.

However, the both of them do still have a primary animal instinct to survive, so if they smell blood they'll both cooperate and hunt down their "prey". Chamataki has a long sticky tongue like real chameleons do, and Tamataki has his sharp beak (though he can also spit givanium onto foes if he is too far away). They are rather standoffish and don't really have "friends" in the resort. They fight particularly often with Kittysaurus since the two are both confined to the lower levels.

A few other design ramblings! I added a few pink accents (most notably Chamataki's wall art depicts him with pink eyes) cuz Chama's tongue is pink. I also noticed that his canon wallart design has a blue tongue, I'm not rlly sure why that is? I dunno if I like it much but it is very distracting lol! If I decide I hate it his mask will have a pink tongue later lol. I also wanted to make Tamataki more frightening-- he looks so silly in the game! So much like how I drew Zolphius, I depicted him with ever-present givanium stains going down his neck. I find it makes more sense that his projectiles would be concentrated givanium (his blood) rather than water, since they are opaque. I also gave him a tongue, which he doesn't have in the game. I made Tamataki's tongue givanium green to imply he wasn't sculpted with one, but it is an organ he has anyways & it's merely void of pigment.

EDIT: I forgot to ask!! Do you pronounce Chamataki with a hard C like in “chameleon” and “character”, or do you pronounce it with a soft CH like in “chart” and “chase”? Comment if you want to!!

[moyokeansimblr]

Moyo life update

Hey friends so yeah uhm... Well after our old man kitty Zook passed on the 4th my dad decided pretty much immediately that we'd be getting kittens because he thought we needed kitten therapy. Initially the plan was only to get 1-2 because we do still have Sophie (Zook's sister) and while she adores the pants off me she's admittedly a grouchy old lady towards everyone else so we weren't sure how she'd do with a kitten. She's also 15.5 so that's why my dad wanted more than one kitten because Sophie doesn't play much.

My brother's girlfriend knew a family that had a litter of 4 kittens and the plan was for us to take 2 so as to not overwhelm Soph. But get this: on the 4th while my mom and brother were saying goodbye to Zook at our vet... a 12 week old kitten just waltzes up to the door! One of the vet techs grabbed him and was like omg he's here for them! But the other tech wouldn't let her interrupt my mom & brother so she took him home with the plan to tell us about him when we were slightly less sad. When my mom called the vet Friday morning to settle our account she told us about him and he was ours an hour later. My brother named him Waffle (short for wunderwaffe dg2, idk spelling I don't play cod).

But we still wanted Waffle to have someone who wasn't 15 years older than him so Saturday morning we went to meet the litter of 4 kittens my brother's girlfriend's mom's friend had. It was pretty easy, two of them clearly liked us most right away. So by mid day Saturday had two more kittens. They're 8 weeks, and named Pez and Cooper. Cooper is the runt and the first thing my brother's girlfriend said when she saw him was oh my god he's so derpy. 😹 But my dad said he thinks Pez knows Cooper is a little behind and looks out for him.

So far they're all separate. Waffle has his space, Pez and Cooper have a space, and then Sophie has reign of the house. They've had a few supervised meetings that have gone well. Sophie's gave her warning hisses if they've gotten too close but otherwise has just watched them. Pez and Cooper aren't scared at all because they came from a house full of other animals but Waffle is pretty scared. He gets all poofy and growls both at Sophie and the other kittens but we don't think he's had experience with other cats since nobody knows where he came from. So we're working on him so he'll be less scared.

ANYWAYS, because I work part time and from home I am the primary cat carer. Between all the cleaning/kitten proofing, giving Sophie ample attention, and acclimating all three kittens I'm utterly brain fried. I've been trying to work on some CC but I've not been able to sit down and actually play sims at all in weeks what with how sick Zook was and now kittens. I did have a sims 2 birthday gift planned but there's no way I'll get to finish it or any of the other CC I've got in progress by that date. I really just want to play but I'm in cat mode so it's what it is. But in the meantime while I can't play I've been watching a lot of sims YouTube content instead (like sammy sundog's service area videos) so that I can still get my sims fix until whenever I get to play again.

I'll end this post with a pic of my good old girl Sophie because she's handling all of these changes pretty damn great so far. But yeah long story short basically I don't have anything sims to contribute to Tumblr right now. Hopefully soon.

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie⁓

This week i've doubled the usual post, just 'cause i feel the urge to catch up with the chapters on AO3.

I've liked writing this part, jumping between feelings, digging a little into this kink i find interesting. I would like to explore it just a little futher, but i need to...contextualize it (at least from Ghost's point of view. I don't think he's a "kink" kinda guy. I'll convince him somehow).

I can see how my english writing style is still a bit rough compared to how i write in italian (wow, i'm goddamn Captain Obvious). I would like to improve, to let it be more fluent, more descriptive, more...melodious? Does it make sense?

So I'll keep on.

Like, forever. I hope.

It's a curse. I'm cursing all of you to read my work for the eternity.

Sowwy

DISCLAIMER (Does someone read them?): how Dom/Sub relationship work (not an expert, but a fan); unrealistic military life (i don't know what i'm doing, but i'm doing it); bad jokes; yelling (again); leather collar (fastest apparition ever); unsubordination, but make it somehow tolerable; Soap and Gaz doing a great job being normal in this chaos; now you've got a roommate; Ghost tries to be nice (we've got you gorgeous, we know you're doing your best).

................................

Fifth part here:

................................

The morning after, Soap runs at you with breakfast already made (he learned how to make your chocolate oatmeal) and an official communication with your name on it.

«…what in the actual-?»

«No comment» the Sergeant swallows chocolate and coffee together, thrilled and suspicious at the same time while you're going to faint in front of what seems to be a threat of imminent death.

You turn and fold the communication letter in every angle, almost expecting to find a tiny "that was a joke, lol" written somewhere. But you don't.

«Waitwaitwait»

Gaz spawns behind you, sipping his morning tea; he looks at the sheet with a critical sight. «You must have fucked up so bad this time, little one»

«I've done nothing wrong!» you burst, watering the table with the hair you thought you would have time to dry.

«But here we are:» Soap points at the sheet as if he's Sherlock Holmes in front of evidence «You've been  officially included in the special operation team's selection…will take place under the supervision… blah blah blah… of Task Force 141 . It's written right here» he signs at the exact line. 

«No»

You waste no time denying the obviousness. The communication is sent away from you on the table.

«No» you repeat, convincing yourself. «I can't. I'm just…i can't»

«'S not a matter of will. Ye've been called, laddie» 

«Cooper and Allan will be there too…» Gaz reads on the list: five names are written, five promising soldiers who are gonna be tested on the field, and maybe will end up being a new special task force. Five reliable people.

You don't understand why the hell someone put you in there.

You fit a big spoonful of oatmeal in your mouth, chewing hopelessly. 

«Why? I don't want to, I'm good being a rookie, I'm too green for this…»

«Maybe» Soap gives you his most sarcastic smile «'S 'cause  someone threw herself in that risky mission in the middle of weapons traffic…if ye know what i mean»

You sigh. Your wet hair dances on the table as you almost slam your forehead next to the oatmeal mug, hoping to accidentally give your stupid brain some damage.

«Is like someone's trying badly to keep an eye on you»

Gaz's speech awakens you. 

«…whaddya mean?»

«Special training's normal shit that happens from time to time. But this wasn't expected, we'd been told 'bout it this morning, just like you. I bet he rushed up everything, and put your name on it»

« He who??» your hand grip the table. «Gaz don't be an ass, just spit the name out!»

«You know who I'm talking 'bout». And he smiles: he smiles like a dick since he knows well you're not gonna like the news, but he just enjoys your red face so much that he tastes every second before spelling with heart-shaped lips:

«Ghost»

You're screaming internally till the morning.

And he,  he , is standing there, in front of you,  he  who's just managed to turn your quiet soldier's life into a little training nightmare.

You want to slap your own face so badly for having thought about doing the heroine for one goddamn mission.  One . You didn't even think it was so hard as a mission, you've done it by guts, and now you're stuck in that training, and you know it's because of  him .

'Cause Gaz told you, after half an hour of interrogation, that  he  is, in fact, one of whom decides which recruit submits for the training.

You're dying, sitting next to a guy you've barely talked to since you're at the base, and who's looking at you…oddly.

Like he's studying you. Like he's waiting for you to…confess something.

With just a slap of his hands, Ghost manages to have everyone's full attention, and the meeting starts.

It goes on for a whole hour and a half: one hour and a half of specific technical terms, workout powerpoints, tactical expectations and probable missions to be done (if the recruit's team will show itself reliable). 

Your brain's 68% melted, 30% asleep and 2% trying to concentrate an hate-beam on the Lt. thick ass.

«Hey, uhm…»

You're about to run away from the meeting room as soon as possible when your brand new desk-mate approaches you with a grin you don't really appreciate. He seems almost amused for whatever reasons, but you don't have time to waste and just glare at him with the most annoyed: «Aha?» a human has ever said.

«He made you a big surprise, didn't he?»

You frown. 

«Who?»

«Lt. I heard a fight in his office recently…it was you, right? You two don't really get along well, are you?»

And that's the exact moment you become suspicious. Your eyes sharpen under the pressure of the distinct feeling he's going to get at a point you don't want to go with him to. 

«Eavesdrop is not polite» you mutter, containing your will to punch him in that stupid grin he's stretching his mouth with.

«I was passing by…ya know-»

«No. I don't»

You move beyond him, focusing on the door. It's already been a terrible day, and all you want is your bed. Not even the dinner, not even Bernadette's joke about her sister's future husband. A  bed .

And it leaves you quite nervous seeing your roommate standing in front of your door as you approach the way to your personal, hoped-for night heaven.

Bernie and her glorious gel-greased red ponytail are waiting for you, tapping her toes on the ground. Female's base section is tiny, and you're glad some God has found you a room with a normal human being with a goddamn deep sleep schedule.

«Oi» you wave at her. She doesn't seem amused. «Don't tell me there's something wrong with the bed sheets again, please»

«Bed sheets are good enough» she murmurs, patting you on the head (she's a tall girl). «Is something…different»

«Whaddya mean?»

She escorts you into the room, closing the door behind you as she's about to tell you some incredible secret about how the aliens are among us.

But she doesn't. She shows you something else.

And your blood freezes.

Next meeting is the morning after, just right before the first training session under Task Force 141 supervision.

There are twenty minutes left before the start, and you're already rushing through the base with your pocket stuffed with something metaphorically heavy. 

You slam the door open with enough force to dismantle the hinges, and your eyes search for one of the three men around the desk crowded with documents.

Johnny's about to wave at you, but his hands stop in the middle as he sees you walking like a rampage toward Ghost.

You aim at him with eyes so cold he could hibernate. 

«I want you to stop » you speak crystal clear under the rage and the exasperation « now, whatever game you're playin' with me»

Soap and Gaz are freezed at the other side of the table, considering themselves lucky to have a solid desk between them and your rusty, piercing voice. Ghost, though…

He falls of a tree.

He can't even manage to keep a stern voice as he says: «…what?» looking at you rummaging in your pocket just to throw something in his hands.

And he finds himself holding a goddamn leather collar, complete with metal chain.

In any other scenario of your life you'd rather jump from a window to check if it was possible to glide on the grass instead of putting together that show. But, oh well, you're neither a flying squirrel, nor a fortune-teller.

And there you are, stone solid against Ghost, who's lost the speaking skills and seems to be in the middle of a math problem resolution with his inner demon.

His eyelids glitch at you a couple of times, but you don't give him time to reply, not this time. 

«Do me a big favor -would ya?- and  go to hell . Thank you so much»

You don't even care if tomorrow someone will send you to fuck yourself away from the base, since you've yelled to a goddamn Lieutenant as if he is your cat-lady neighbor who complain about noises at four pm. 

This is the end of your patience, the end of you being nice, calm and collected; the end of you trying to not be so direct about what it's happening between the two of you.

'Cause it sounds so clear in your head that it was  him who left that stupid joke of a collar in front of your room, that you didn't even think about other possible suspects.

And so, the meeting starts with him being completely silent, sat and still as a statue, while Soap and Gaz don't even know what they're speaking about since they should have done just the training part of the day.

Ghost's looking at the recruits, so intensively, so vividly you can feel his eyes scanning all of you, and you don't give a damn about it.

He can just go where you've sent him, and rest in peace.

The walk toward your room is a forced march on disassembled legs. Task force did its best to organize a training to destroy every inch of flesh and bones, but it was so  good  to unload the stress with physical pain that you can't even complain.

You're about to go for the door knob, ready to disappear in bed, when a known voice reaches you with an embarrassed: 

«Hey»

You turn: and the goddamn eavesdropper from the training is behind you, and you're already preparing to yell the hell out of him but…he's evidently uncomfortable. He doesn't even look at you as he almost bows his head saying:

«…I-i came just to…apologize. I'm sorry for having bothered you. It was just a joke, i didn't mean…» He kinda starts to justify something, making a step forward that immediately dies. «Sorry, i…i-i just wanted to have some fun, it was a joke. Sorry» he ends up muttering, mumbling with eyes buried in the ground.

Your jaw drops. You're about to grab him by the neck and give his skim a peeling session on the wall, but you spit an hard and sharp:

«The collar. It was… you ?»

And he left you like this, with no more words, nearly running away from your sight, so embarrassed he could have dug by himself a hole to hide in the pavement.

Next day, he isn't even at the meeting with the Task force.

You can't deny you were about to skipp the daily training too. 

You feel slightly, almost imperceptibly, just a tiny bit  bad . But it's the "tiny bit" that makes you pretend to be part of the seat in the meeting room, just an innocent piece of plastic, so well hidden in the chair.

The specific, vivid memory of you rushing to your superior, slapping that damn collar in his hands as if the joke was his responsibility, is kinda cursing your mind in a black, noisy cloud of embarrassment. Oh, and that smart little brain of yours is also reminding you how proud you were to send him to hell.

You decide to become a turtle, digging the neck into the shirt collar.

FUCK , it's the only, big, huge sign you're throwing at yourself, so focused on melting on the chair that you don't even feel his presence next to you.

«'Ve told ya we've got a dignity in here»

You jump, raise your eyes and suddenly bury them again on the floor. Ghost is standing on your left, not even looking at you, and you silently thank him for his sensitivity (if that's even a matter of sensitivity). 

You're collecting some sensible excuses, trying to look like an adult, a responsible one, but he surprises you with a sudden:

«I'm sorry»

He's the second one in half a day who gives you an apology, but if the first one was unexpected, this is almost incomprehensible; and without getting aware, you're looking at him in surprise.

«Taking into consideration a shithead like that for a new task force project… I wasn't that forward-looking. Should have identified a scumbag from the start»   

He speaks so sternly but so…easily, as if he's telling you about how many peanuts he'd eaten at breakfast. Then he sighs, about to go away; and you don't know  how , but you find the boldness to shout out a rushed:

«I'm…I apologize. I  need to… I'm sorry» you murmur, feeling like a stupid child excusing a broken vase. 

«'S ok»

You can hear your heart skipping a couple beats. Your eyes widen as you sense the slightest amount of what you classify as  warmness in his words. 

It doesn't last that long, as he adds: «But we're not done with this»

«…no, I-I can understand sir-»

«We need to talk». The "need" part is silently underlined, but the "we" is just a replacement for a more impellent "I", since it is  him who's burning his neurons, crashing them together to let them cooperate like in the good old days, when he succeeded in avoiding unnecessary emotions from the sunrise to the dawn. And he really thought he would be able to spend his whole life with the "I care for you" part of his brain on strike, as he really used to.

You're ruining his plans. And he can't allow himself to grow softer.

That is what boils in his guts for the whole morning, making him so absent-minded he almost shot Gaz on the training field.

"War's not a place for sentimentalism. There's no place for enjoying love here, we can't get compromised"

He repeats it as a mantra, waiting for you in Price's spare office (since his has got the door to be repaired. It may be that he made a hole in it out of anger).

He doesn't even know  why they give him an office. He's not a bloody secretary.

«Sir?»

He jerks at the door, relaxing a bit when he sees it's just you: you, who're avoiding his direct sight; you who're still sweaty and panting from the training; you, with the t-shirt that exposes the bandage on your arm, reminding that stupid infiltration mission you shouldn't even get involved in the first place.

You, who call him  sir just when feeling uneasy. 

«Come in. Sit»

His voice does his best to modulate a softer tone, failing miserably, with the result of making him more nervous. He goes searching in a drawer, and when he hands you that damn collar, you sigh. 

«I-I don't think i want it back, sir»

«Cut out that "sir" thing. It doesn't suit you»

Your cheeks are on fire. You grab the leather things, holding it tight in your fists.

And you feel upset, really upset , as a crescendo of excitement grabs your nerves, making you feel oddly, suspiciously  good . 

He makes you come back to reality: «Seems like we have to speak more quietly»

You sigh. And he keeps on: «Eavesdropping's a dick move, especially if ya do it outside a superior's office. He's gonna clean the shit out of our toilets for the rest of his stay»

Said so, one topic of the day is considered closed. 

He takes a long breath before starting the more important matter:

«Are ya used to this?»

Apparently, half measures are for the weak. He points his sight at the collar you're holding with both hands, almost like you're waiting for someone to take it and put it on you. 

You can't help it: it's an old habit.

«I…was» you murmur. 

«What 'bout now?»

«Does it matter?»

«Yes»

«Why?»

«It matters to  me »

Fists clench around the leather.

«Is an old story, i've drop it»

«Doesn't seem so»

Then, silence. 

Dense silence, pudding-consistency silence, and if Ghost had got a spoon he could have eaten the room's atmosphere to get to you. He realizes his self-confidence has been thrown out of the window as he catches his fingers scratching the nose tip through the mask. Digits are immediately moved away and stuck in pockets. 

«'M not asking to make fun of you. Neither out of personal curiosity» and almost every synapsis screams " liar " at him. 

«You're a…reliable soldier, little one». It costs him a little bit of pride to say it. «We don't wanna waste good soldiers for stupid reasons. I don't want this» his sight spot the collar «to compromise you»

«You can stop worrying about it»

You're a knot curled on yourself on the chair, feeling as if there's a martial court in front of you who's laying you bare, exposing your guts, releasing the skeletons collection hidden in your closet.

That's when he takes the collar from your hand, so gently, pulling it away from you as if he's releasing you from a burning stone that was consuming your hands. 

You're impressed. And your sight rises again, and he's ready to catch it.

«Were you forced to do it?»

You're about to ask "what", but as always, you already know what he's referring to. You shake your head.

«No. I've…enjoyed it. I was lucky at first»

«Why?»

«I…» remembering it brings you a little smile «…I found someone I could trust with this…game»

«A friend?»

«No. No, he wasn't a friend. He…»

Voice remains hanging for a moment, as he makes a step back to give you space. He's waiting; he could wait the whole day if it's necessary, and you're so not used to him treating you softly.

Maybe it's just a trick to make you speak. 

And it works so perfectly.

«Sub-Dom relationships are not easy. Well, you could build one in no time if you force it, but a  real one is based on trust. And it is the most difficult thing to achieve. Is not just a matter of obedience and…and sex play» you blush at the statement. «I trusted my Dom with all my whole heart. That's why I enjoyed the experience»

He mutters a low monosyllabic sound, as a confirmation that he's following your speech. When you get silent again, he makes a step forward:

«Then why did that collar affect you so much?»

And he hits a spot. Of fucking course he does. 

«'Cause most of the time, someone who calls himself a "Dom" just wants a body to humiliate»

Your cheeks are burning again, your tongue is trapped between the hold of your teeth. You finish with a whispered: «That's why I went out of that business»

«But you react at the memory of it» 

Your head disappears into the collar shirt as you nod, almost imperceptibly.

«Do you feel the urge to be under someone's orders?»

A «No» is rushed out so quickly it surprises him. «I've told you: it's a matter of trust». 

And you suddenly fall from your tree, feeling like the "soft-spoken" part of the meeting is totally gone. You freeze on the chair, almost replying as sharply as you can: «I've not chosen to be a soldier 'cause I like being ordered, if that's what you're implying»

«I'm not implying anything.»

«Then why ask?»

«Just wanna make sure your not gonna fall for the first big man who waves a riding crop at you»    

He steps on horse shit, and he realizes as fast as the word "riding crop" slips through his own mouth. He can swear to god he was trying his best not to be rude, but somehow that part of him (that he was trying so desperately not to bury under a cozy warm blanket of emotions) had decided to show itself just at the wrong moment.

How lucky he is.

He suddenly jerks the sight at you with the haste of someone worried about having run over an innocent cat on the street, and he really hopes you've not heard his last sentence.

But you have. 

And your eyes are tilted toward him, cheeks are red and fists are clenched so hard that knuckles are going to come out. 

«Can I ask you» you rush out, in the most professional way, forgetting again you're speaking with a Lieutenant «Why do you always end up being a dick?»

................................

[brucewaynehater101]

Hello, wanted to pop in an ask if an ask I sent like maybe a week ago was nuked by tumblr or not, it's the ask comparing Jason to The King in Yellow's in-universe script play and the play's Act 2

Don't worry if it did get nuked cuz I have the original text I put in my ask saved on my computer and can just send it again if that's the case

Highest apologies for any pressure you feel because of this ask, don't feel such nor the need to respond faster to asks due to mine, I just wanna make sure my ask wasn't nuked

Hi!!

Absolutely don't mind answering this or if anyone else has questions on whether Tumblr gobbles up your ask. I did get this one, so no worries ^^

I did want to take this ask just to clarify that some of y'all's asks are taking a while to respond to. It's not cause I don't want to, or I won't (just putting that reassurance out there). There's just been an increase in how many asks I'm getting that it's been a wee bit hard to keep up with.

I love love love y'all's asks. So much. Unbelievable so. There are 0 issues with sending in asks. Even though there's a lot in my ask box, feel free to send more (I get anxiety, so I'm trying to reassure anyone else who might get some about this response).

Sometimes, I can't respond to an ask for a bit due to the other asks, and I'm trying to give each one the time they deserve. My brain just doesn't always cooperate :(

However, I will absolutely answer any asks that aren't mean (I've only had one mean one so far, so we're usually good in that department).

I do apologize to the asks that have been sitting in there for about a month or so, but it's not cause of their content. Idk if I need to reassure that, but it's never about their content.

I'm trying to answer 'em in order, but my brain can be a jerk. I've also probably thrown myself into too many hobbies (gaming, answering asks, two blogs, reviewing comics, and fanfic writing and reading).

Essentially, this entire response is, "It's not you, it's me," lmao.

I very much enjoy asking, and I'm excited to answer them when I get the chance ^^

[generisydtoo]

Splitting up Team 7....Let's get into it

Disclaimer❗️: I'm not trying to dog on anyone who makes alternate team headcanons for fun. I have my own thoughts ofc, but as long as you're truly not hurting anyone, it's not that deep. I'm sharing my thoughts on this since I've seen this take a few times over the years, but do with it what you will!

As always, you're free to share your thoughts! Just be sure to keep it respectful :)

Tbh, it baffles me when ppl say that Sakura (bc that's usually who's removed from the team in these takes) or anyone else on Team 7 would've had better development if they were assigned to a different team. I think people fail to consider that Team 7’s close, consistent proximity and becoming teammates was one of the key reasons why they were able to get past their initial impressions of each other and form a deep bond.

This is only one example, but as far as we know, no other team went on any dangerous missions like Team 7 did to the Land of Waves. Granted, that was an outlier since that mission was supposed to be a C rank; however, it was vital to their individual growth. It shaped their perceptions of each other as teammates and of the shinobi world as a whole. If Sakura, Sasuke, and/or Naruto were placed on a different team (assuming little-to-nothing else was changed in the series), I'd deem it unlikely that they would've grown to be the shinobi they became, although not as quickly.

If you want, you can view this through the lense of recent media, particularly the YA genre. There are many reasons why they tend to be set in middle/high school (though I think that's starting to change and expand, thank goodness), one of them being the outcomes of forced, consistent proximity.

The characters are placed in an environment where they're (more often than not) forced to interact; it's not like college or other settings where you can simply leave if you don't want to be there, especially without it being fair to others in your group. While it’s ultimately up to them to choose whether or not they want to become more than acquaintances with their classmate(s), their relationship has a higher chance of forming due to being consistently around each other.

The same applies to Team 7 and honestly, the other Rookie 9 teams. They were all placed on their teams- a learning and training environment with forced, consistent proximity- for a reason. Ino-Shika-Cho being placed together since they're THEE Ino-Shika-Cho trio (if any sensei had messed that iconic trio up....bless their hearts fr), and Team 8 all being trackers.

For Team 7, it was also so they could all learn and benefit from each other in some way. Naruto could benefit from Sasuke’s proficiency in ninjutsu, Sakura's intelligence, and both of their calmer personalities(give or take with Sakura) seeing as he got the lowest marks at the academy and misbehaved a lot. Sasuke could benefit from Naruto and Sakura's social and outgoing personalities seeing as he got low scores in cooperation and teamwork.

While Sakura performed well in her academics, she slacked greatly in anything pertaining to using physical strength. She could benefit from Sasuke and Naruto's taijutsu and battle skills seeing as she got low marks in taijutsu.

I think it's also worth noting that Sakura is a balance of their personalities while having her own. While she's not always on 10 like Naruto was, she was able to be social and upbeat and like him. She wasn't emotionally cold or nonchalant like Sasuke, but she was able to match his calmer "think first, act later" demeanor. Ofc, they've all had their moments and didn't act the same way all the time. I love that Team 7 can share one brain cell at times, lol.

As I said in the preface, I'm not trying to down anyone making alternate team headcanons for fun. That being said, it's just odd to me that people claim that placing them on different teams would suddenly "fix" their characters. Becoming a team was an integral part of their characterization, with each of them serving a unique purpose in one another’s growth. (This includes Sai too, though that may be a convo for another day.)

Like the title says, this was a starting "Let's get into it" post. I have more specific thoughts on this take, but these are my initial thoughts for now :).

Sources: The academy report cards are only in the physical fanbook. You can find an online transcription of it here and photo scans here!

[isa-ghost]

Hi! I was wondering if you have any tips for outlining your story?

I’m trying to work on one, but it doesn’t really want to cooperate with me when I try to outline.

Do you have any tips for what works for you?

I would say don't force it, most importantly. You won't be satisfied and it won't come out great if your heart and mind just aren't in it. Get your inspiration and creative muse going first.

I genuinely don't know how the fuck I got my plot as fleshed out as it is, I got hella lucky it kept going. It was very fuck it we ball.

I will say, I often reread what I already had planned before letting my little brain movie continue.

I can picture things in my head really clearly, so basically my brain gave me a movie of the first 5 chapters and I just let it "yes and" itself until it just kept going. Or I got specific scenes that popped into my head and then wrote from where I left off and pushed things in a direction that could make the scene true in a way that made sense and flowed well.

From there, I knew I needed to resolve conflicts I'd established ("how does Phil get EK out of his body?"), come back to certain plot points I'd planted the seeds of ("so how is Phil doing while the group is planning his rescue?"), or cover "well what's going on with x during this time?" type stuff ("how is Missa taking care of the kids on his own while this is all going on?"). So over time, I'd make sure to either devote a whole chapter or just a scene to cover the thing, whatever length felt right.

As soon as I get a rough idea of what major points I want to cover, the rest comes organically as I'm writing. For example, in Chapter 3, I did not plot the Pissa date thoroughly. My plan said "fluffy distraction date, but hes hallucinating," and eventually "Phil hallucinates an enderman which exposes he's not doing well so he confesses everything to Missa bc he can't bring himself to lie to him." I didn't plan them visiting an event venue, going on a picnic, taking pictures, anything casual they talked about before that point. I let it come out in the moment and allowed the pieces to just fall into place because over-planning something can sometimes choke the life out of it.

Though that could just be what works for me because I'm taking over a decade of roleplaying skills and fitting them to a fic. A lot of the scenes I write come out the same way I'd start a roleplay. You can see it most in the start of a chapter, because both require setting the scene before puppeting the character(s) within it.

And obligatory mention that the process isn't always linear, flowing perfectly, etc. Shit takes time and the first draft is not gonna be your last, even if only a single detail changes later. Don't expect perfection the first time, you'll limit yourself and you won't be satisfied later. It could straight up kill your motivation to write the thing at all. I've deleted whole paragraphs of text in chapter 4 because even though they were written beautifully, it wasn't what I wanted or didn't match my plan.

So basically:

Ride as long as you can on the initial idea. Milk as much Where Does This Go / What Happens Next from it as possible

Play to your strengths when writing. If you're good at describing setting or atmosphere, go nuts. If you're good at writing dialogue, weaponize that. Whatever you're best at writing, lean into that and it'll make your story shine.

Keep the things you need to conclude satisfyingly in mind. Figure out how you want to resolve the conflict(s) you've started, then steer the plot in that direction however you see fit. If you establish certain things, decide if you Need or Want to actually write it out rather than imply it happening/being done/whatever.

Make sure the events that connect two plot points together flow well and make sense, but leave room for improvising because things that unfold organically are important in order to avoid having a plot feel too "mechanical" so to speak. Not to mention things that miraculously fall into place and just fit in perfectly are super rewarding and motivating.

Don't be precious with your ideas. If something doesn't fit, suck it up and delete it (you can always copy/paste it elsewhere to keep it in case it works later on, or you're just so damn proud of what you wrote that you don't want to banish it to the void). Chances are when you rewrite the scene or steer it in a more logical direction, you'll write something you like even more. If you don't, sometimes sacrifices must be made and you can refine the new thing until it's to your liking as many times as you want. OR you can commit to the new thing you wrote, but make sure to make all the changes to your plot and such necessary to have that thing make sense and flow well with the rest of what you're writing.

And very important: If you're writing for something that has a Canon, make sure what you're doing makes sense for the character. Don't have a "he would not fucking say that" / "he does not have the emotional intelligence for that" (HUGE ONE. Modern fandom has a massive problem with bitching about characters not communicating, but if the character would not spill their guts to someone, don't fuckin do it!! Miscommunication sucks, but lack of communication is a device that often benefits plot and creates conflict necessary for an interesting story!!) / etc moment. Dig into the character's brain and understand how they work, take what you know about how they are in situations and in general and apply that. Binge read character analysis for help, your best resources are your fellow fandom mates who are insane about their little guys. Consult them if you can't find any analyses, they'll write you a whole essay often times. Characterization is extremely important and many readers just straight up won't read your thing if you're butchering their special guy. For example, Phil is deeply allergic to sharing his burdens and hates the idea of putting his friends in danger. Obviously I'm not gonna have him venting to anyone who'll listen that he's being possessed by a god they don't even know of and that he needs their help. Even when you're writing an AU, that will rarely ever make the character's canon way of being irrelevant, you just have to think about how those traits would look in your universe/specific situation. There's still even more nuance to this I won't cover, but just keep in mind that writing a character accurately matters!

[kenny-the-ken]

Y O U + M E Pt 4

ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS!! I really am so sorry for my absence lately, my life's been fucking hectic!! I hope you guys enjoy this, it took me forever, my brain just wouldn't cooperate

Things had been going oh so well sweetheart, oh so well. Your mother was no longer an issue, and let's just say that heaven's gained another angel. I mean, of course you were devastated but, I was there. I was your shoulder to cry on, your comfort and support, you lover, all in one. What more could a girl want?

But obviously my work wasn't enough, or it would never have came to this. My love, I did everything for you! Everything I did was all for you! I killed Clyde, for you! I killed your mother, for you! And now it seems that you have grown to resent me.

You found the box, the one with Clyde's teeth, your panties, your mother's ring and a few other things belonging to you in it. It was bound to happen at some point, I guess my hiding skills aren't as reliable as I once thought. But that doesn't matter now darling, because I know we will get through this. Because love is the most powerful force in the universe.

Getting you here wasn't easy, I mean, after you tried to escape from my apartment to go to the police, I knew that it would take you some time to come round to my way of thinking. I had to keep you safe, and somewhere I knew you'd always be safe.

I rented a room at a storage facility a while ago, just a place where I could keep extra things that didn't fit in my apartment, and where I keep my soundproof cage, of course. Bulletproof, scream proof, unbreakable, and even if you ever found a way out from there, you can't get out of the storage unit without my key, I have you right where I need you to be.

I'm watching you sleep, that cut on your head looks quite painful, I truly am sorry for having to hurt you dear, but you really did leave me no other option. You don't know you're here yet, you've been out for a while now. I did inject you with a small amount of sedatives so, they're obviously doing their job, which gave me the time that I needed to plan ahead.

I don't want to kill you. I want to love you darling, but I can't do that till I know you still want me too. You could try to pull the wool over my eyes, spin me a story so I let you out and then turn me in to the police, then where we be, love?

--------------------------------------------------------------

My eyes flicked open, the thumping in my head already unbearable, a white light illuminating my surroundings, but not all of it. A box. Thick, reinforced glass caging me in within 4 walls. The door handle is on the outside, it's locked, and a hatch beside it, which must be where he'll feed me from. How could I not have seen this? How could I have missed the signs? I knew it was too good to be true.

"Ken?! KENNY!" Hands balled into fight fists as I uselessly bang and bang against the never breaking glass. "KENNY!" My voice was hoarse, choked with tears that streamed down my cheeks like a river that had broken its banks. How could I have let this happen?

My whole life I've loved fairy tales, wrapping myself in the comfort that one day my prince may come and save me from this miserable existence I call my life. But I wasn't a princess, I didn't hold the power to turn stupid little boys into princes that had came to save me.

Then you arrived. You came into my life and you were the first person to wrap me in a thick layer of cotton wool, to protect me from the things I didn't know about. You killed people for me, to protect me. You did everything for me, you gave my life meaning and in return I betrayed your wishes, I asked questions and I snooped through things that my eyes were never supposed to see. And I'm sorry.

"I'm here baby." A soft voice came from the darkness of the dimly lit room. The light in the box was so bright that it made everything outside of it appear dull, darker than it was. And from the darkness Kenny appeared, placing a gentle hand upon the glass cage that held me as its prisoner. As his prisoner.

"W-Why am I here, Ken?"

--------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes were flooded with terror, your knees weak, face drained of colour, why must you always think the worst of me, love? Aren't you supposed to love me? "I'm here, y/n. I promise, I'm not going to hurt you." Your sobs break my heart darling, oh how I long to wrap my arms around you, but not yet, I can't be sure your intentions are pure.

"Ken, please let me out of here!" Your tears stain your soft complexion, I want to kiss them away, make everything okay. "I can't baby, soon. I wish I knew what you were thinking." And it's true, I do. If we could see each others thoughts then maybe you could understand me better, know why I've done all that I have for you, it's all for you, for us.

"Kenny... p-please I-I can't stay in here! Y-you can't leave me here, Ken." I don't want to leave you here darling, oh how I wish you were in my bed, laying in my warm embrace. The sweet scent of your hair, your floral perfume, how I long to touch you.

But alas, I must be patient my love. As I place a cigarette between my chapped lips, I silently pray you have it in your heart to forgive me, to work through this together, and come back stronger and more in love than ever. I miss you so much and as I turn the lights off and leave you behind the closed door of my dingy little storage room, my heart aches to be taking you with me, hand in hand. But if you cannot forgive me and love me how I love you darling, then I guess I'll have to get used to missing you.

[blade-that-was-broken]

I’m going to spit out a theory on how jd lost his leg in the soldier au. I know this is probably wrong but I want to theorize. I think Tres was driving one of those military jeeps with the whole squad in it (except delta) and ran over a landmine it was an old kinda shittily made landmine so the explosion didn’t kill anyone but John was sitting shotgun and the jeep hit the mine with the shotgun side wheel so he took the worst of it while everyone else got surface burns. Anyway jd was kinda completely out of it on painkillers and getting back to back surgeries for like a month or two and that’s why he doesn’t actually know if his leg is in Sudan or not because he doesn’t know if it got amputated immediately in Sudan or if it got amputated when he was back in the U.S.

That’s why tres blames himself but jd doesn’t blame tres at all cause well jd also did not see the explosive on the road that thing was hidden well.

Anyway I love this au a lot. An idea i have about it is that JD was the one who tapped out tres in his graduation ceremony. Idk why jd would have been there but they clicked well cause Tres has no family beyond his squad and his squads family and neither does JD (at the time at least) and the second jd talks about tres to bruce, the dad in him realizes that tres is jds unofficial adopted son and Bruce is very much an uncle.

Anyway welcome to my Ted talk this is just a theory I love this fic so much thank you for writing it.

First and foremost... I was going to write something about this and then... major burn out. Either that or my brain is just NOT cooperating with this. However, I've got notes instead.

Okay so... you aren't entirely wrong. This is actually pretty on track. However... it gets worse... it gets so much worse. I don't have a lot of details but this stuff is janky and its a lot longer than over the course of one explosion. The explosion from the truck isn't actually what takes John's leg but they go through a whole ordeal that lasts at least a few weeks before getting back home to the states. The ending part especially is something John is extremely fuzzy on so that's why he's not entirely sure where his leg is. But it's also a joke with some of his darker humor.

When I said this ordeal kind of gives Tresillo an out of the military of an honorable discharge or something, I mean it. It was gnarly and that is putting things lightly.

Tresillo's feelings of guilt goes deeper than an IED that no one noticed - it's a bit more up close and personal than that which is probably.... it's just yikes. Tresillo blames himself because he's thinks he never should have been on a team with such more experienced soldiers and that they wouldn't be in that mess if it wasn't for him, and John wouldn't have gotten hurt if he wasn't busy trying to protect Tresillo. This isn't true, however, but Tresillo is a kid and he likes these people and he just has a lot of guilt and shame that he really shouldn't.

So, I'm very pretty sure that's not how anything works but since this is an au, I can do what I want so I'm going to absolutely roll with it. I'm just going to roll with JD and the others knowing this kid was going to join them and they go to the graduation (or maybe even meet him beforehand/get to know him beforehand etc.) and quick to realize that no one is gonna tap him out and John just doesn't even hesitate.

Tresillo is kind of an undisciplined brat at the beginning. It's how he knows how to get attention. I'm also debating on whether he had to choose between prison or the military so that might be a factor. Anyways, they don't give up on him and are super good and chill and eventually he just kind of sinks into it all. They all bond and become friends/family. John is very proud of him and although would never really say the concept of brother/son/etc. he sees all of these people - including Tresillo, possibly not Chaz - as family. He just doesn't always use those types of labels.

Bruce however, very well might.

I'm really glad you like this au! I find it super interesting to talk about and ya'll come up with some really great ideas and questions which make ME come up with more stuff too!

[doodle-pops]

hi mina!

so weird question that’s been on my mind; you know back in like the 50’s an such people would get upset at people for marrying people that were like black/irish/etc or on the occasion for a different religion that wasn’t christian/catholic/etc & so on??

do you think the elves have the same kinda prejudice but instead for different races like an elf marrying a dwarf ( or a hobbit/etc ) do you think they’d be met with the same kind of disgust/hatred as the outdated views of the 50’s an so on?

( also i hope you know what i mean by this & that i don’t mean it in a bad way, it’s the only comparison i could think of dhhdbd. also i hope you’re doing ok 💖 )

Firstly, I'm doing very good!! My brain is doing woozy and trying to make me create a bunch of unnecessary WIPs at a time when I don't want to 😅. I hope I answered this to your liking, I felt like my brain wasn't cooperating.

I can see prejudice occurring with the dwarves (not sure about the hobbits, they're too cute to be disliked). It primarily stemmed from the elves' superciliousness towards the dwarves' appearance, not regarding it as fair while dwarves found elves too sparkly for their beauty standards. Most of the elves mingled with their own kin while harbouring friendships with other races was acceptable. Falling in love was rare (like once every age).

I don't see hate or anyone being shunned, but disapproval would arise from immediate family members and anyone closely related. First-age elves would be disturbed/baffled by the union since they were writing the first batch of history and discovering what they considered acceptable. Frankly, they probably didn't want a union with races who weren't fair enough and could ruin the beauty of their bloodline lol. Being friends with dwarves/hobbits was the limit the relationship could go. Humans were surprisingly the only suitable race to wed apart from their own; we actually made the cut and not by much 🙂. (the ainur excluded since elves wouldn't have an issue being with a deity)

A major reason why elves didn't look for companionship outside their own race was to avoid the long-term suffering. They didn't want that loneliness after their mortal lover had passed on. To mingle with agony until the end of Arda (this was discussed in Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth).

However, if this union were to successfully occur, it would be a never-ending talk. I'm convinced that elves adored gossiping, so that couple would be the talk of the age(s). Their curiosity would spike; mostly wanting to understand how their marriage worked, the dynamics, and how they fell in love and overcome the boundaries. I can't say if it would encourage other pairings to arise though. I've never heard of elves being disowned for their choice of lover, so I'd like to assume the same for dwarves/hobbits. The family might still be reluctant, finding it difficult to comprehend their family member's choice while respectful to the spouse.

This all boils down to the personality of the elves because some would be conforming while others aren't.

[skellagirl]

I am, as usual, late lol, but Y'KNOW. This is gonna be a long, rambly post lol, sorry, I have a lot of thoughts.

2023 was a weird year for me, artwise. When it began I was still deep in my Art Block From Hell, which had begun in mid-2021 and lasted the entirety of 2022.

Being in the thick of such a ridiculously suffocating art block, for TWO AND A HALF YEARS, is like... I can't describe how fucking life-draining it is. It felt like something was fundamentally wrong with me -- like a part of me, which used to be as effortless as breathing or blinking my eyes, had ceased to function altogether. It wasn't just a regular art block, it was a complete identity crisis. I could no longer trust the instincts I'd honed over twenty-plus years, could no longer trust my sense of observation or my ability to recreate what I saw. I felt BROKEN, and every single time I picked up my tablet pen it was like I was scraping my insides with a spoon, trying to pick up whatever tiny dregs of dried-up, crusty shit I could manage to puke up onto my canvas. It was fucking painful and humiliating and completely demoralizing.

I'm not really sure what finally got me to do so, but sometime in summer (my memory is shit lol) I downloaded Game Maker, found a video tutorial on youtube, and just... gave myself over to it. I made myself learn how to use Aseprite, and working with pixels, making teeny-tiny little sprites, forced me to work in ways I usually don't. It was a lot harder for me to find the flaws in my art when my art was thirty-five pixels tall and the anatomy was stylized to communicate clear information rather than be a recreation or approximation of reality. I think I really do credit that time working on game dev as the thing that finally cracked loose all the gunk that was keeping me stuck -- I could not perpetuate the cycle of toxicity I'd fallen into because I could barely even conceptualize what 'good' or 'bad' pixel art even looked like lol. I just knew that I was making art, and for the first time in two years, it didn't feel like I was having to desperately beg the emaciated husks of my sense of self-worth and confidence to cooperate while doing so.

(I actually sort of abandoned my foray into game dev around August/September lol, as my adhd-brain, flitting around like a little hummingbird to every dopamine-rich-flower, is wont to do 🥲 But I wanna get back into it at some point!)

From there I had a rush of inspiration for an original project I've been mulling around in my head for years, and I wrote thousands of words in my worldbuilding document, made a map, developed the shell of a possible actual STORY. I returned to sketching. Conventional sketching. It was, at first, largely still comprised of that same demotivating struggle against myself, but I was so deep in the throes of inspiration (after several years of this project laying dormant in my google drive) that I NEEDED to sketch. So I kept going. And after a while, it got....... easier. And I started hating everything I made a little less. I painted, properly, for the first time in years. I stayed up late into the night, even if it meant I would be tired at work the next day, because drawing felt so damn GOOD again and I had missed that feeling so much. All I wanted to do was draw. For the first time in two and a half years, I could finally see the light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

I still don't think I'm quite out of the woods yet. My style is changing, as all artists' styles do over time, and that comes with stumbling adjustments. My confidence is still small and shaky and recovering; I still catch myself second-guessing what I've drawn, and even looking at some of the things here on my grid makes me cringe a little bit for one reason or another.

But compared to both 2021 and 2022, the volume of art, and in particular the volume of art I don't actively despise, is WAY higher, and I'm really really hopeful that that means I'm finding my footing again.

So! Here's to 2024, and to continuing to move towards the light at the end of the tunnel 🙏🌟 I'm gonna try.

[demxnicprxncess]

Can I please request what a New Years kiss would be like with the Evans? Thank you!

ABSOLUTEY HUN

Taglist: @kitwalkersgfff, @ppawmpkin, @yes-divine-ruler, @quicksilversg1rl, @charsdunkie, @eddiemunsonsbitch69, @dahmevan, @sultrysullen

warnings: Suicide on after jail kai, just flat-out Kai Anderson

New Years kiss with the Evans

Evan: He held you close until the clock struck midnight before pulling you in and kissing your lips gently before pulling away from you. "Wanna set the new year off with a bang sweetheart?" He slowly got down on one knee, "I wanna marry you."

Tate: You had fallen asleep but felt his lips on yours, "It's the new year?" he shook his head and then you heard the Harmons count down. Once they reached one, Tate picked you up and carried you to the room before planting a kiss to your lips. "I love you."

Kit: You and him had your fair share of drinks and sloppily did your little count down before kissing, a few seconds later y'all were sleep.

Kyle pre-death: You were at a party and got drunk Kyle was taking care of you smiling as he watched you jump with each count. He smiled at you but then felt you press your lips to his, kissing him and pulling him closely.

Kyle Post-Death: You had gotten him all excited and once the countdown ended, he saw a couple on the tv kiss, so he looked at you and kissed you too. "Pretty." He mumbled against your lips making you melt inside. "You are too, Ky." He smiled "Me pretty?" you nodded and kissed him again.

James: With the little counts you did he popped some champaign and then took a sip. Once you asked if you could have some, he pressed his lips to yours spilling the beverage into your mouth. "Another year with you my dear. And many more to come."

Kai: You guys had done a countdown kill and once the live was over he snatched his mask off as you did yours pulling you into a rough kiss groaning in it, his hands snaking down to your ass. "WE FUCKING DID IT!"

Kai Pre-Cult: He was slightly nervous but nonetheless had fun with you. once that clock hit midnight you pulled him into a cute little make out kiss. "I've always wanted to do that." "Me too Kai."

After Prison Kai: You went to his grave mourning and drinking while doing the little countdown. Once it hits midnight you kissed his grave and a picture of him before crying and pulling out your gun. "I love you." You cocked the gun before unloading a bullet into your brain dying in front of your lover. Soon to be reunited with your Divine Ruler.

Jimmy: You guys didnt have to perform so you decided to spend it together, you always liked Jimmy but was sure he wouldn't like you considering you were a normie and he had a whole fall down with Madison (wtv tf her name was idgaf tbh) You did the countdown with everyone and had fun but then felt an overwhelming amount of loneliness seeping through your body. "Darlin'" You turned around and felt lips on yours immediately noticing it was jimmy you wrapped yourself around him. "Happy New Year, Jimmy."

Peter: He spun you around till you were dizzy and then pampered you with kisses and corny jokes. "What are you doing Peter?!" He laughed still spinning you. "Starting the new year of with a twirl." You glared at him with a playful look before kissing him.

Alex: He slept. you slept. Y'all woke up and kissed at like 12 at noon.

Cooper Day: He wasn't totally for the kiss and looked at you when you leaned forward. "What are you doing?" You looked at him. "New Year's kiss?" He sighed but kissed you anyways making you feel all bubbly inside and happy. "I love you Coop" He looked down. "Yeah, yeah, go to sleep."

HAPPY NEW YEARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!

from me and @ppawmpkin

[skitskatdacat63]

Misc lore drop day 30/?

Whoops this is quite late. I wish I had smth special for Day 30, but unfortunately my brain isn't cooperating. So I'll just talk about a vettonso thing I find funny, and maybe by the end of writing, it'll turn into something significant. Or I'll have energy tmr to draw significance from it.

So. Monza 2008. Seb's first win. If you've followed my vettonsoing, you'll know Fernando was the first to congratulate him, and bodily hugged him in the process. Though to me, this has even greater significance beyond Seb's win. As far as I'm aware, this means Fernando is the first one to initiate affection, at least on tape. And it wasn't even the typical "oh we're on the podium together, so I have to bro-hug you." Nah, it was a full hug, and a choice he made for no other reason than to genuinely congratulate him since he wasn't even on the podium, at least that's how it feels to me. This is fascinating cause from then on, for a while, it was mostly Seb pursuing him(well maybe that's the negative impact of the flag moment lmao.) But yeah, I don't really know what their relationship before that moment was like at all, but this was very unexpected and sweet, HOWEVER.

I've been loath to show it, maybe I'll post it sometime, because who really wants to spread around clips of their ship not shipping. But it's so funny, there's this moment in 2011(European GP), where their parc ferme customary bro-hug is soooo awkward and limp and not even a hug that even the commentators are vocally like, "wow that was limp." It wasn't even a close race afaik, Seb went from pole to P1. It's fascinating to see what being competitors and rivals does to two people. To go from taking initiative to full-body hug some first time winner rookie to limply grasping hands with him only a few years later. Like can you not even bring yourself to do a firm hug, a bro hug even? Why congratulate him in the first place then? Courtesy, image? ….desire for physical contact–

I 100% understand being bitter about your rival winning over you, like I don't even understand in the first place how any of them can hug each other at all after races. But it's funny because in the clip, there's a car between them, and Seb goes to grab his hand even though they're separate. So there's distance between them already, and to me, that would make it easier to congratulate him because you don't even have to bring yourself to get near him. HOWEVER, Fernando insists on coming around the car to be closer??? Like oh yeah I'll still make it awkward, but we need to be closer first. How are you gonna be the one who insists on being closer, but act all limp and awkward and even shy away from making eye contact??? I guess tomorrow's post will be about how(in the AU), Fernando is the one to initiate affection, but Seb's the one who's more comfortable about it.

[sjsmith56]

Still Not There, Chapter 16 - Eyes of the Father

Summary: After reuniting Bucky experiences a PTSD moment and pulls away from Lacey.

Length: 4.7 K

Characters: Bucky, Lacey, Terry, Steve, Clint, Shuri.

Warnings: PTSD rears its head, Bucky (anxiety, decision making, etc.)

Author notes: Yeah, I’m making life difficult for them. Have to have some conflict. This chapter goes to the final of Avengers: Endgame.

<<Chapter 15

🦾 🙍🏼‍♀️

That evening there was a major rearrangement of the sleeping arrangements.  Terry, Bucky, and Steve were put in Nathaniel's room, while Tommy, Nathaniel and Cooper shared the latter's room.   Originally Clint said Bucky could stay with Lacey but he demurred, saying it wasn't fair to put that burden on her when it was the first time they had seen each other in person since the one night they spent together almost nine years previous.  Terry wasn't happy about sharing a room with the man who made his sister cry so Bucky volunteered to sleep on the couch in the living room.  As he settled on the couch with a pillow and blanket, wearing a borrowed pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt he heard someone coming down the stairs.  With a sigh he turned, looked at the stairs and was surprised to see Terry.

"Really, I don't mind sleeping on the couch Terry," said Bucky wearily.  "I promise to stay here and not go to Lacey's room."

"That's not why I came down," said Terry as he sat on an armchair across from Bucky.  "I couldn't sleep.  I'm the last person to be angry at you for making Lacey cry.  I avoided her for years and when I did see her I treated her like shit.  I looked down on my own sister for so many years because I wasn't a good man when I was playing pro football."

Bucky sat up and looked at the man.  "Why is that?" he asked.

"Too busy living the high life," said Terry.  "Literally.  I was an imposter.  Terrified of being found out by my teammates, my fans, my coaches ....  I acted like I was in control of my career and really I felt that if anyone knew the truth about me my career would be over.  My family were a reminder of who I used to be, the guy who just wanted to fit in."

"So what changed?" asked Bucky.

"She met you, got pregnant, had to go on the run from the Russian mob, go into hiding from the CIA and HYDRA...," he paused.  "When our mom died and Lacey told me all that she had been facing, alone, I felt ashamed that I had given my entourage more attention than her.  So when she called to say Clint left because of losing his family it became my chance to step up and be the man I should have been all along.  The fact that for five years I've been her protector made me possessive of her.  I'm sorry."

"I wanted to marry her as soon as I found out about Tommy," admitted Bucky.  "But I got my arm shot off, I still had activation words implanted in my brain that would turn me into the Winter Soldier, and I was a mess.  She told me to go to Wakanda and get fixed first.  Then Thanos happened, and the Snap took five years of my life from me.  Five years away from her and Tommy.  I should have come here with Clint as soon as I could but Steve had something that couldn't wait and I owed him my life.  He saved me, Terry."

"Yeah," he replied with understanding.  "He told me.  Whatever you need to do to finish your obligations just do it.  I'll stay with her and Tommy.  Then when you're ready I'll step aside and start living my own life."

"You don't have to do that," said Bucky.  "Tommy loves you.  He told me how you've been helping him train.  You can live with us as long as you want.  I don't want to come between Lacey and you."

"What about what Lacey wants?" said a woman's voice and they both turned to see Lacey on the stairs.  "You two are already deciding what to do with me but haven't asked me what I want."

"Well, what do you want?" asked Bucky.  "You're right, you should be part of this conversation."

"I want a normal life," replied Lacey, coming fully into the living room and facing the two men.  "One that includes you, and my brother and sister.  I want Tommy to go to school and I want to be able to go for a drive without looking behind me all the time to see if I'm being followed.  But, you know what?  It doesn't matter what I want because until you're completely free none of that can happen.  So, I'm still going to be in a holding pattern ... here if they'll have me.  If not, then I have to find somewhere else to hide out."

She went to the window, looking outside at the dark.  By the position of her shoulders it was obvious she was crying but barely any sound escaped her lips.  Bucky stood up and went to her, placing his hand on her back.  She turned and buried her face in his chest.  He stroked her hair and whispered to her.  Terry watched the body language between them and knew both of them felt they had little control over their lives at the moment.  They had a couple of days while at the farm but as soon as Bucky turned himself in he would be subject to the legal system.   Terry joined them at the window.

"Go to bed," he said quietly.  "Hold each other, make love if you want, just be together.  The only control you have right now over what's going to happen is between you while you're both here.  So take the opportunity to be physically part of each other's life, even if it is just for a couple of days."

He kissed Lacey on the head and patted Bucky on the shoulder then went back upstairs.  The couple looked at each other in the dark then Lacey took Bucky's hand and led him up to her room.  They stood inside the door for a minute, unsure of themselves, before Lacey put her hand on Bucky's cheek and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him gently.  He kissed her in return and held her in his arms.  She stepped back and took his prosthetic hand in hers, examining it. 

"The arm, is it better than the other one?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's amazing," said Bucky.  "I lost almost 40 lbs just by removing the other arm.  This feels everything; heat, cold, touch ...."

"Show me," she whispered.

He pulled his T-shirt off and she could see even in the dark that his skin looked almost normal next to the shoulder portion.  She ran her fingers over the skin and although it was warm like the rest of him it wasn't unnaturally hot and there was no new scar tissue. 

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"No, it doesn't hurt any more," he replied.  "Neither does my back.  They fixed it all."

Hesitantly he placed his hands around her waist and leaned over to kiss her.  Her cool hands were on his chest as he ran his right hand under her shirt and up her back.  She responded to him by encircling his neck and shoulders with her arms.   His hand moved to her breast, making her whimper slightly as he caressed it. 

He pulled away slightly.  "Are you sure you want to do this?  I don't have any protection."

"I do," she said.  "I got a 10 year implant late in 2017.  At the time I expected you to be here soon.  There are also condoms in the drawer, for backup."

He lifted her shirt off then picked her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist.  Kissing each other fiercely he walked to the bed and laid her on it.  As she backed up to the pillows he followed and laid between her legs, putting his full weight on her.  With his left hand he gently fondled her breast and although it was cool in temperature it's smooth surface moved effortlessly over her skin.  She ran her hand through his hair while gazing at him and he smiled softly in response.

"We don't have to go any further than this," he suggested.  "I want you but this, touching you and being close to you is awfully nice."

"It is, isn't it?" She looked away for a moment before looking back at him.  "I'm going to take the rest of my clothes off.  I do want you but if you want to wait it's okay." 

He raised himself to a kneeling position and watched as she got out of bed to disrobe completely.  His breath rate increased as she got back on the bed and faced him kneeling.  She had changed in the years since they were last together.  Her body was heavier and curvier but also more muscular from farm work.  Taking note of the changes he reached out again and touched her shoulder then her breasts.  Her skin was still soft and by her own breathing he could tell she was aroused.  He stepped off the bed and removed his clothing.  A soft smile crossed Lacey's face when she saw him nude and she put her hand out to him.  With a smile he got back on the bed kneeling, and pulled her into his arms, kissing her fiercely. She responded in kind and pulled him down so he was lying partially on her.  Unlike before when he used his artificial arm only to prop up his body while he laid on Lacey, this time he used it fully as he touched and caressed her body with both hands.  They kissed deeply between moments of mouthing the sensitive parts of each other's necks and throats.  Finally Bucky raised his head and reached for the drawer of the nightstand.  He put his hand in and felt around bringing out a vibrator.

"What's this?" he asked, smiling.

"Your replacement," she said, defiantly.  "There's been no one since you, Bucky.  Just that."

"There's been no one since you either," he admitted, then he put his hand back into the drawer and came out with a condom packet.  "While I'm sure your implant works I just want to be sure."

He rolled the condom on and with their eyes gazing into each other he guided himself slowly into her.  Like the first time she held her breath a little as he eased himself into her.  Then she gasped when he came out before thrusting in again. 

"You feel amazing," he whispered softly into her ear before kissing her deeply.

She gave a satisfied moan when he thrust into her again and lifted her hips up into Bucky's.  "So do you," she whispered back, as she ran her hands down his back.  "You can go harder you know."

"I don't want to hurt you," he said softly.  "To be honest I'm afraid to let go.  Except for when we were together I was basically celibate.   When the Soldier was ordered to breed he wasn't gentle because it wasn't in his nature."

"Do you think that it's still in you?" she asked, as they stopped.  "Bucky, he wasn't you.  Do you know that Natasha was in the Red Room when you were there?  She never spent time with you but she knew about you and how you were as the Soldier.  She also knew how you were when you weren't the soldier.  You didn't cooperate."

"I don't know if I can stop if I let myself go," he said worriedly.  "If I hurt you ...."

"My sweet man," replied Lacey gently.  "When we did this before you didn't hesitate.  Parts of you are still messed up, aren't they?"

He exhaled suddenly as if he remembered something disturbing, then pulled out and rolled off to the side, sitting quietly for a moment.  Pulling the condom off he got up and put it in the garbage.  Then he pulled his underwear on and looked at her.

"Yeah, I'm still messed up in places," he said bitterly.  "I have more of my memories now and not all of them are good.  Maybe this was a mistake.  Maybe we were a mistake that should never have happened.  I'm sorry."

He pulled his sweatpants on, picked up his T-shirt and left her.  Sitting up, she was stunned at what had just happened.  Quickly, she got dressed and went down the stairs but he wasn't in the living room as the blanket and pillow were gone.  She looked out the windows but saw no sign of him outside, realizing he had gone somewhere to be alone.  A feeling of anxiety came over her that somehow she had hurt him, enough that he was reconsidering their future.  Slowly she went back up the stairs to her room.  She looked out the window at the moonlit yard then started to cry and turned away, dropping into the bed and crying into the pillow.  From his spot in the shadows at the trunk of a nearby tree Bucky watched as Lacey looked out over the landscape.  He watched her start to cry and could hear her continue crying as she got back into bed.  He turned away, filled with self loathing at hurting her like that but the sudden memory of something he did as the Winter Soldier had frightened him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.  "Maybe you're better off without me."

He turned and went into the barn, finding an old truck inside.  Climbing into the front seat he put the pillow down then covered himself up with the blanket.  Sleep didn't come easily but when it did it came with a nightmare of the time he shot Natasha Romanoff through her body to kill the scientist she was trying to save.  Natasha's face changed into Tommy's and the scientist's face changed into Lacey's.  He woke up shouting and then wept at his cowardly decision to leave Lacey again, perhaps never to come back.  Unable to stop the argument in his head he sat up and waited for dawn to wake up Steve and tell him they had to leave.  He must have fallen asleep sitting up because Steve's voice beside the truck woke him up, as the other super soldier was standing beside the open window.

"What are you doing in here?" asked Steve.  "Lacey said you left suddenly during the night.  What happened between you?"

"I'm no good for her," replied Bucky.  "We were in bed and somehow the conversation turned to the Winter Soldier and I realized I can't be with her.  I'll hurt her at some point so I ended it."

"Are you for real?" demanded Steve.  "She has waited for you for so long and you decided within hours that you can't be with her because of the Soldier?  Bucky, what the hell.  She's devastated.  So is Tommy.  What were you thinking?"

"I'm no good for her," repeated Bucky.  "What I did proves it.  Until I know for sure that he's gone for good I can't be with her or Tommy.  Better I hurt them now than when they become invested in me."

"They're already invested in you," said Steve, pleading.  "Shit, Bucky.  Whatever happened to making it right?"

"It's the 21st century," he replied brusquely.  "They don't need me.  Can we go?"

Steve stood there, his mouth open, not believing what he was hearing.  It was the most ungentlemanly thing Bucky had ever done and it shook Steve to the core.  Bucky continued to look straight ahead and Steve shook his head.

"I'll get your bag and meet you at the quinjet," he said.  "I assume you don't want to see anyone or say goodbye."

Bucky didn't answer and Steve turned around, returning to the house.  Bucky got out of the truck, leaving the pillow and blanket where he thought someone would find it.  Then he walked to the quinjet and opened the ramp.  He heard someone running towards him and turned in time to be bowled over by Tommy, who began hitting him.  Bucky didn't defend himself from the boys hits or cries.

"Why did you come back?" he cried, his tears mixed with his anger as he rained blow after blow on Bucky.  "Why?  You made her cry again, on purpose.  You hurt her.  You hurt me.  You're not my dad.  I don't have a dad.  I hate you."

As the boy tired out and his blows lessened Bucky took control of his son's hands and sat up, holding Tommy away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly.  "I'm no good for either of you.  You're better off without me."

Tommy spat at him and it landed on Bucky's cheek.  He gently pushed Tommy away and stood up then stepped onto the ramp.  Holding his emotions in check as best he could he looked once more at Tommy.

"Take care of your mother," he said, then he turned away and went up the ramp, wiping his cheek with his hand as he struggled not to cry.

When Steve entered the quinjet a few minutes later carrying both his and Bucky's bags he dropped them off at Bucky's feet and looked at him again, shaking his head.  Then he closed the ramp and started up the aircraft, lifting it away from the farmyard and into the air.  He programmed the course back to the compound and set the autopilot then looked at Bucky again.  This time when his friend looked back at him the tears were freely falling down his cheeks.  Steve kneeled down and looked Bucky in the eyes.

"Why?" he asked.  "The truth now, no bullshit."

Bucky's face was tortured.  "We were having sex and the conversation got around to the Winter Soldier and the breeding program.  She brought up Natasha's observations about the Soldier and how I was uncooperative when I wasn't the Soldier."

Steve look aghast.  "Bucky, you didn't...," he said slowly.

"No, I didn't," he replied quickly.  "But what if they didn't get that part of him out of me?" he asked.  "What if he's still there?  I had a vision of me tying her up and doing unspeakable things to her.  What if that's what's left in me?  I'm too dangerous to be around her or Tommy."

"Did you tell her this?" asked Steve, desperately.  "Did you talk about it?"

"How could I?" said Bucky.  "She would think I was some sort of freak.  Better she forgets me.  She'll get over it.  So will Tommy."

"Jesus," said Steve.  "That's messed up, Bucky."

"I figured I can talk to my therapist about it once I've been assigned to one," said Bucky.  "It's part of my plea deal that I go into therapy for my PTSD.  I think this qualifies."

"But I won't be there for you," replied Steve.  "You know that.  Who else can you confide in?  She would have listened if you told her this.  You know that too."

Bucky ran his hands through his hair.  "Yeah, you're right.  There really isn't anyone else I could talk to about this.  Maybe Shuri but talking to her about sex isn't something I'm comfortable with.  She's just a kid."

He put his face into his hands realizing the extent of his blunder.  Not only had he hurt Lacey, Tommy, and himself he had burnt the bridge to the only person who could help him through this.  For him it reinforced that he was more of a mess than he originally thought.

Three days later the memorial service for Tony Stark was held.  Bucky hoped Lacey would come so he could try to make amends but she didn't show.  Clint and his family came but wouldn't even look at Bucky or stand near him.  He tried to give Clint a letter to give to her but he ripped it up in front of Bucky, dropping the pieces on the ground.  All Bucky could do was stand out of the way and avoid conversation.  Shuri approached him when she noticed him standing by himself.

"Sergeant Barnes, why the long face?" she asked kindly.

He fixed a sad gaze on her.  "I made a terrible decision," he said.  "I told Lacey we were a mistake and she would be better off without me.  I left her bed, Shuri.  I was afraid the Soldier would hurt her while we were intimate."

She pulled him by the arm so they were away from the others.  "What made you do that?"

"A memory of something the Soldier did," he said hesitantly.  "I panicked and told her we should never have happened.  Then I left."

"You have to apologize," insisted Shuri. "You must go see her."

Bucky looked towards the Bartons.  "I don't think Clint will let me come within a mile of his farm."

Shuri followed his gaze and saw the harsh looks he was being given.  Sighing, she touched his arm, noticing that he flinched when she did so.  It was definitely a sign of regressing and she looked at him with concern.

"Come back to Wakanda," she said.  "I will help you get through this."

He shook his head.  "I've already made arrangements to turn myself in.  If I go back with you it would look like I'm on the run again.  Thank you but I have to stay and work this out on my own."

"Then talk with your friend, Steve," she advised.  "Don't keep it inside where it will fester and magnify itself.  Promise me you will do that much."

He nodded and looked away, signalling his reluctance to talk any further about it.  She returned to her brother and when she looked towards Barnes again he was gone.  There was one other person she could talk to about it and she made the decision to call Lacey when she had the chance.

Hours later Bucky, Sam, Bruce, and Steve were at the rebuilt time machine, set up outside the destroyed Avengers compound.  In the distance they could see the cranes and clean up crews trying to salvage what they could from the debris.  Steve was changed into his Captain America uniform and wore the hand control which would transform it into a time travel suit in the quantum realm.  As they looked at each other Bucky realized that this was it.  The two friends had only just reconnected and now Steve was going, fulfilling what he had shared with Bucky just after they defeated Thanos.

As Steve disappeared from view Bucky bowed his head in acceptance when his best friend didn't return in the time Bruce had estimated.  Sam questioned what was wrong as Bruce tried to figure out what happened but Bucky knew Steve wasn't coming back.  He turned towards the lake and saw the man, sitting with his back to them.  As Sam and Bruce were frantically talking behind him Bucky took several steps towards the stranger.

Bucky called out Sam's name, loud enough to get his attention.  The other two men stopped their efforts and looked towards Bucky then noticed the strange man.  Sam walked towards Bucky and stood next to him.  They both walked towards the man who was seated on a bench overlooking the lake, a round package beside him.  Patting Sam on the back Bucky encouraged him to go see the strange man alone.  Sam gave him a questioning look which Bucky answered with an encouraging smile.  He watched as Sam approached the man and smiled as recognition filled Sam's face when he realized this was Steve, aged many years.  When Steve gave Sam the shield, passing on the legacy to him he smiled again, knowing that this was the right thing to do. 

As he watched the pair, Bucky recalled the hours after the battle against Thanos, when everyone was still processing the death of Tony Stark, he and Steve sat away from everyone, wanting to talk alone.  Clint had already left, after Bucky told him to go back to the farm without him.  Steve, his best friend since childhood, told him then that he wanted to return back to the 1940s, seek out Peggy Carter and marry her.  Bucky couldn't blame him, knowing how much he had loved her.   By his own admission Steve told him how out of touch he felt in these modern times.  Steve did ask if he wanted to return with him but Bucky just looked at his prosthetic arm.

"I could never explain this," he replied, lifting his arm up.  "How could I face my parents and tell them what I became, what I did?  All the psychological damage that was done is better treated in this time as they understand it better.  I just don't belong there anymore.  It's better that I remain dead to them."

"Then take the shield," said Steve.  "Take my place here as Captain America.  You have the strength to do it, Buck."

"Maybe," replied Bucky, "but no one would trust a man who was a killer for HYDRA to carry the shield.  You know that.  I know that.  You need to pass it on to someone else, someone that people will trust and look up to."

"Sam Wilson," said Steve, firmly, without hesitation.  "Right from the moment I met him I trusted him.  He's loyal and he believes in what the shield stands for."

"I don't get along with him, really," joked Bucky, "but you're right.  He didn't even know me but he helped because he believed in doing what was right.  He's the man for the job."

"What about you, Buck?" asked Steve, concerned.  "What will you do?"

"I'll call that lawyer that took my case," he replied.  "Tell him I'm ready to turn myself in.  I have to stop running, Steve.  I have a son that I've never met in person and I want a relationship with him and his mom, whatever that ends up being.  After that, I'll find something to do.  I'll fit in, somehow."

Immediately after that Bucky called the lawyer and arranged to meet with the FBI after Tony Stark's funeral.  In fact, as he looked at his watch while Sam spoke with aged Steve he realized he was due to meet him within the hour.  He looked once more at Steve then turned around and headed towards where the clean up crew was salvaging what was left of the Avengers compound.  As he waited for the vehicle with the FBI agent who would take him into custody he looked up at the sky, wondering if he would still get to see it if the pardon fell through.  The dark SUV approached and Bucky stood taller, determined to have some dignity.  It stopped and the single agent got out of the driver's side.

"James Buchanan Barnes?" he asked.  "I'm Agent Dan Jones of the FBI.  I am here to take you into custody.  Your lawyer is already waiting at our offices for you."

"You were the agent who was looking for Lacey Williams' brother," said Bucky.  "I recognize your voice."

"You were there at her house, weren't you?" asked Jones.  "She told me you didn't show up until after I left.  Not that it matters now.  If you can give me your word you won't try to escape I won't cuff you.  You've been through so much and I learned what HYDRA did to make you compliant."

"You have my word," replied Bucky.

Jones opened the front passenger seat and Bucky got inside.  As the agent started the car he looked at Bucky carefully.  "It's uncanny how much the boy looks like you," he said.  "At least he did before the Blip.  I was dust so I couldn't be there to watch over Lacey and your son.  My replacement on her file says they came through it okay, in case you were wondering."

Bucky nodded and thanked him.  He put the seatbelt on and looked straight ahead.  The next part of his life was about to begin.  Until he got his legal status settled he couldn't deal with the mess he made of his relationship with Lacey and Tommy.  But he would fix it, somehow.

Chapter 17>>

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