#also the fucking height difference like. hi .

[karokawwo]

I'll be honest I really hate height differences in vns... like I'm short so technically that writing should be geared towards me, but personally it just feels very infantilizing and it's so annoying. I know a lot of people are into it but it to me it's just kind of upsetting

[osteochondraldefect]

the first image is probably what Hale was doing during twin voices . hes reconnecting with nature :)

[wauce]

i don’t even gaf anymore (ref under the cut)

[sugarpopss]

November 30th, 1942

This is very much inspired by that post thats like 'remember how Bucky said he enlisted so Steve wouldn't worry about him'. I just couldn't stop thinking about Bucky getting his draft letter and being so worried about people worrying about him. This draws heavily from the lore developed in the chat with @bucknastysbabe , inculding but not limited to: Rebeccas food thing, George Barnes the WWI vet who died from a medical problem caused by his time in the amry, Steve and Rebecca being close, Ma Barnes being one of the kindest people in the world and a midwestern girlie...etc etc. Sources for the bits of research I did for this fic are here and here.

November 30th, 1942

In 1942, on the Monday after Thanksgiving, Bucky got a letter. He saw it when he got home from the docks, slightly crumpled between Rebecca’s algebra and geography books on the kitchen counter. It had gotten a little damp in the mailing process and was stuck to the front of a letter to his mother, from her own mother back in Iowa. He didn’t think too much of it-he was too exhausted to think much of anything. Unloading crates from ships was far from the worst work in the world, but it sure did zap his energy and fill his sinuses with dust and dirt and smoke. Some of the old timers-guys who claimed to remember striking for a 5 cent raise-liked to joke that pretty soon ‘pretty boy Barnes’ would get to know the sort of back pain that went hand-in-hand with a lifetime of hauling cargo, and that would trump exhaustion every time. 

Bucky always laughed it off. They were just joking around, and he’d take any ache in the world if it meant being able to take care of his family, anyway. Even if his Ma kept bringing up trade schools that weren’t too far or too expensive, and Steve was champing at the bit to join the military, Bucky was fine right where he was. He was just fine in the apartment he grew up in, working hard, flirting with the girls running telegrams in the harbormaster's office, walking Rebecca home from school when he got off in time. He got fantasy novels from the library with Clark Gable knights and Lana Turner princesses on the covers; He boxed on the weekends and was always a good sport; He caught Rebecca in the short hallway connecting their bedrooms every morning and gave her a noogie; He went to the cinema with Steve when they both had a little change in their pockets and flicked popcorn kernels at each other like they were kids. 

All that to say-Bucky was doing perfectly fine. He wasn’t raring to make a name for himself or see some great bloody glory. He definitely wasn’t interested in signing up for the war. The picture of his father on the mantel, clean shaven in an army uniform from twenty years ago, kicked the sense back into him whenever he thought about it. If the photograph of the man Bucky could barely remember didn’t work, the urn next to it surely did. 

And all of these things were reasons why, when he unstuck the damp mail from his sisters schoolbooks, the bottom just about dropped out of his stomach. The ink was a little smeared from getting wet, but still perfectly legible: for him, with the selective service system logo stamped right on the front. 

It was like the entire apartment tilted, rocked like a seesaw and threw him completely off balance. Without even thinking, Bucky stuffed the letter into his pocket. He didn’t want to look at it, think about it, deal with it. Whatever it said-as if there was any question as to its contents-he would worry about later. Preferably not standing in the middle of the kitchen in his grimy work clothes, whale eyed and frightfully pale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The letter remained stuffed deep in Buckys pocket until after supper. Bathed, comfortably full and bone deep tired, he was usually out like a light after working a full day. But instead of passing out underneath the quilt-a gift from the elderly widow two floors up, after he’d spent the summer of ‘35 bringing up her mail and groceries and painting over the water damage on her kitchen ceiling-he fished the letter out from the pants strewn on the floor and just…held it. Looked at it. Turned it over, looked at where his address had been smudged a little by the damp. It was definitely for him; no mistake there. His full name was right there on the address line, middle initial and everything. 

Maybe it was completely mundane! Every guy had to sign up for selective service-tons of them probably got letters about misspelled words or unchecked boxes. Maybe he’d written something down incorrectly back when he had filled out the forms. 18-year-olds were stupid, after all, and he probably hadn’t been paying that much attention to the information he was putting down. That was most likely it; He’d put his birthday down as October 3rd instead of March 10th by accident, or initialed something that was supposed to be a signature or vice versa. So what if it’d been four years since he filled out that paperwork? Tiny errors like that were probably pretty low priority for the selective service, especially after America joined the war. 

He was just going to open the letter and see what they needed him to fix or resign. 

He opened the letter. He read it once, then twice, then three times. 

There was no problem with the paperwork he’d filled out at 18. 

He didn’t need to resign any forms or recheck any boxes.  

He did need to report to the local selective service board the following Tuesday. 

Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. 

Buckys first thought wasn’t ‘I don’t want to join the military’. It wasn’t even ‘I’m scared’. Buckys very first thought was for his family. He couldn’t be in the military! He was an important part of the household! The Barnes had only recently edged back into a relatively comfortable financial situation because of the combined incomes Bucky and his Ma brought in, and someone had to be around to look after Rebecca-as much as she’d protest and whine that she was 16, she didn’t need to be looked after-when their Ma couldn’t. Someone needed to haul Steve out of fights and into dance halls, because yes, Steve was as good as family, would’ve been even if Rebecca hadn’t declared he had ‘adopted brother rights’ years ago. 

Buckys second thought was ‘I don’t want to join the military’, because he didn’t. He’d never wanted to, never even seriously entertained the idea. There had already been a Barnes man in a war and it had destroyed him; robbed a good man of his peace and his health, robbed Buckys mother of a husband and himself and Rebecca of a father. Hell, Rebecca had never even met their father-he had died two months before she was born. A couple of old photographs, a ceramic urn, and a watch and wedding band with no hand to wear them were all she knew of the man. 

It made Buckys stomach turn to think about leaving his family for the thing that had put his father in the grave before 40. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning he started to think. He couldn’t tell his Ma he’d been drafted-he certainly couldn’t tell Rebecca or Steve. They’d all worry too much for him. The downside to having loved ones was that as much as you loved them, they also loved you. And loving someone meant worrying for them when they were about to get scooped out of their life with less than a months notice. 

It’d be less worrying if he'd just enlisted, if he had made a choice, even a rash, ill-advised one. At least that would imply he had some sort of excitement or confidence in joining the military. At least that would imply that he was ready, that nobody needed to worry about him because Bucky himself wasn’t worried or scared or hesitant. 

That was the thought that he chewed on all day. Chewed on it so much, in fact, that he barely chewed anything else, including his supper. And that was strange behavior for Bucky. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Rebecca had asked him. It sounded incredibly blunt, but to be entirely fair, she had first made a frantic gesture towards the peas on her plate with her head-because Rebecca was not eating peas that week, and if she could switch their plates without their Ma noticing she could avoid a stern look and a ‘clean plates club’ lecture-and then kicked him under the table when her head tossing got no response. 

Their Ma was looking at him, too. If there was one thing the Barnes siblings were, it was chatty, and although Rebecca had been blathering on about how a girl in her geography class had gotten in trouble for wearing lipstick, Bucky had been almost entirely silent. And he’d barely touched his food even though he wasn’t on the same legume strike as his sister. 

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, casual and calm. He took a bite of his food-the peas were fine even if they came from a can, because their Ma was an excellent cook. Rebecca was just weird about food sometimes-to give himself time to think. 

He settled on “I can’t walk you home next week.” 

Rebecca sighed in that ‘God, you’re all so uptight and dramatic’ way that teenagers do. “I don’t need you to walk me home. I’m not a kid, I know how to get home from school.” 

Their Ma gave him another curious look, though. “Did you make plans?” she asked. “With Steve? With a girl?”

She didn’t sound upset, just…curious. It was odd, after all, for Bucky to not want to walk Rebecca home. He tried very hard to align his hours at the docks with her school schedule. It was important to him, to make sure she was safe and that nobody bothered her. 

“Sort of.” He replied. 

He knew that wasn’t a very good answer, and his Mas face reflected it. He’d never in one million years chose some dame over his sister, and Steve was as good as Rebeccas second brother. He was more likely to just join in on the walk than make plans over it. Hell, half of the time they did things as a trio-things like pooling Christmas and birthday money to go to Coney Island, an outing upon which the then teen boys had ridden the Cyclone, Steve had vomited into a public trash can, and Rebecca had proven that she was somehow remarkable at darts despite never having played before in her life. 

His Ma raised her eyebrow. God, he was bad at lying, bad at keeping secrets, bad at misleading people. 

“I-” He met his Mas eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, steeled himself. “It’ll be a few days next week, actually. I enlisted and I’m reporting to induction on Tuesday.” 

The world didn’t end once he said it. A small part of him-the part that reminded Bucky he hadn’t lied to his Ma since he was 17 and she asked if he had cigarettes in his bedroom, and even then he’d come clean about two hours later-had expected something huge and dramatic to happen. Maybe both his mother and sister would drop their forks and snap their heads up, maybe a police siren or fire alarm would go off somewhere nearby, maybe lightning would strike the building. 

But none of that happened. Rebecca continued pushing her food around her plate. “No you didn’t.” She scoffed.

Their Ma didn’t dismiss his statement as a joke, but her expression was difficult to read. “You did?” She asked, her voice stern and level. 

Bucky kept going. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I was just thinking about it and it seemed like a good idea. I stopped at the recruiting center last week. I…” 

He trailed off. This wasn’t a perfectly thought through lie, but it felt like a necessary one. 

“Yeah.”

Rebeccas fork actually did clatter to her plate once he finished talking. She looked up at her brother, agape with bright pink spots at the high points of her cheeks. 

“You’re fucking joking! You can’t just leave!” 

“Rebecca Grace!” Their Ma snapped, though it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it. 

Rebecca shot up from the table, her eyes-bright blue like Buckys, like their late fathers-welling up with tears. “No! You can’t leave, that’s not fair!” 

With that she stormed off, the slam of her bedroom door in the small apartment sounding like a gunshot. 

Bucky swallowed and looked down at his food. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

“James.” 

He looked up at his Ma. Guilt immediately began to eat at him. Guilt for the lie, guilt for having to leave them, guilt for everything his Ma had been through and would go through in the future. 

“What branch?” 

He swallowed again. The guilt was crawling up his throat like vomit. He wanted to admit it was a lie, to say he was scared and didn’t want to go and didn’t know what to do. But there was nothing to be done. All he could do was help the people who loved him to not worry so much. 

“Army. Like dad.” 

She raised her eyebrows. They barely ever spoke about George Barnes military career. Not to say that they never spoke about Bucky and Rebeccas father at all-he’d been the love of their Mas life, she had plenty of stories about him. But they didn’t talk about his time in Europe. Bucky had always gotten the impression that his father hadn’t spoken much about his time in Europe when he was still alive, anyway. 

“Your father was drafted. He didn’t choose the army.” 

He shrugged. 

She sighed and put her fork down, picked it back up, put it down again. 

“I don’t-” She sighed again. “I can’t tell you what to do. You’re a grown man and you get to make your own choices.” 

Bucky didn’t feel like a grown man at that moment. He felt like a little boy trying to convince his mother that he wasn’t afraid of the dark. 

“Do you genuinely want to join the military?”  

The earnest concern in the question was what broke him. He took a very deep breath and met his Mas eyes, blue on brown. She had asked like there was any changing it. Even if he had voluntarily enlisted, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it after the fact. 

“No. I-I…the letter came yesterday and I have to go on Tuesday and I-.” Bucky cut himself off, feeling something far too much like tears in his eyes, something far too much like a sob beginning to choke up his throat. 

“Jamie, sweetheart…” She stood from the table and opened her arms to him, a hug that he gladly accepted. Three inches taller than his mother or not, 22 years old or not, there was nothing more comforting than his Mas embrace. 

“It’ll be alright, Jamie.” 

By god, he hoped so. 

[thegreatestheaver]

reblog to slap her bald head

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

So was thinking, maybe the ship name could be like..

Millitz, feels like it rolls off the tongue better and it combines the two names moreso.

Also some other HCs…

Whenever they get into a fight/argument, they decide to wrestle for who is right. Though sometimes they forget what the argument is and it devolves into a heated make out/sex session between the two right on the floor.

Blitz loves Millie’s long hair, so much so that every chance he gets he likes to hold or brush it. In bed he likes to sleep with her hair on him.

I can really see the "relationship fights turning into physical fights turning into sex" thing

[miserye]

The yaoification of kdj and yjh needs to stop please I’m begging

[welcometoteyvat]

btw. exploding everyone with my mind who thinks neuvillette and furina are father/daughter or some other crappy stupid strict familial structure

[chotachica]

Casually dropping I'm thinking of doing a Husk costume and going as him for carnival in front of my bf to see if he tags along as Angel (he has been talking about lowkey wanting to go as him for like a week) ☝️

[nyan-bynary]

Finding out kakashi is very noticeably shorter than gojo has done things to my psyche I can't even describe

[shiftingwithmars]

that ain’t Walker, that’s a full on grown ass man💀

[no-light-left-on]

corvosider height difference is very much underutilized by this fandom in every aspect of the ship and in this essay I will-

[windupaidoneus]

one day i will draw nsfw hildemet & the world will have to forgive me. Of course thats provided i dont take one look at it & go BAHHHH FUCK YOU ANATOMY & erase it all as i usually do & also i would probably not share it. But i will let you know so you can forgive me

[newcronomicon]

they make me ILL

[elecman108]

I'm currently working on making full body refs of my human!FNAF lot and... I made a realization:

They're ABSURDLY TALL. Like, comparing them to some of my taller/average height D&D full refs... Bonnie, my guy. What the fuck. Also Sun is one of the shorter ones. I don't think more than maybe 3 Animatronics/Androids in my AU are shorter than 6' tall. I think the only two rn are Balloon Boy and Cupcake, who don't have refs done yet, so... Wow! I don't know why I made them all fucking massive!

(oh, of the FNAF refs I have done, I have the main FNAF SB group aside from Vanny and Gregory, and Glamrock Bonnie done. That's it. I have a bunch more lined but I still have a handful more to drawn including all the humans lol)

I'm adding in something post-posting this. The arm on the side of Bonnie's original image I had posted is... Sun! Didja guess rightly? Probably not because his arm that's visible there isn't visible here!!! Lol

[euclydya]

hmmmmm character bingo for Authority and Titus <3

- @mansplainmanipulatemalewife

VIRBATING OK OK O KO K OK OK. OK. UNDER THE CUT NGKFMGDMGKG

OS FIRST OFF:

^ ME WHEN AUTH. ME WH. ME WHEN

ok anyways

I TRIED TO STICK TO WHAT I THINK ABT SOURCE AUTHORITY AND NOT LET SYSTEM BIAS GET TO ME BUT I REALIZED. MY THOUGHTS ON AUTHORITY AND MY THOUGHTS ON PANSY ARE FAIRLY SIMILAR! SOOO. WIDJXMDNFNXMXJFJDFJ anywaYS!!!

* - everyone else EXCEPT YOU! is wrong abt Auth <3. JFNDJDF

** - THIS IS TRUE BUT ALSO i was like "I could edit this to say 'will somebody please fuck them jesus christ' that'd be so funny and true" but i was also like. Nvm that takes too muchEffort i do not have the spoons 4 that. but there's that thought anywaysJFMCMDFKKFD

BUT YEAH SO! I do not respect source Authority at all. If we met source Authority irl I would beat the shit outta that bastard. Or. Try to anyways <3. JFKDMSMF he is however Hilarious sometimes he has his moments. But also. I tHINK! SOMEBODY! SHOULD FUCKIGN KNOCK HIM DOWN A FEW PEGS! AND ALso. and . also. and also peANYWAYS ONTO TITUS!

Before I start: our synesthesia does not fucking like Titus's name I'm sorry for the weird pink. His name's shrimp coloured and weird and glitchy and shimmery I cannot replicate that shit on goddamn IbisPaint X™

SO WE BARELY KNOW SHIT ABT HIM YET but!!!!!!!!! He's fun and he's also Scary but in a good way like if u get on his good side He will literally kill & help fake murders 4 u. duh. But also hE SCARES ME! i care abt him. <3.

What we see from Harry's pov is that he Is An Asshole yes but like UNDERSTANDABLY SO!!! ofc he's an asshole to Harry & Kim thEY'RE COPS FUCK EM!

He gives off Funnyman vibes otherwise like. That character trope where Hte big scary looking dude is just v nice and funny around their friends? yeah. I imagine that's him IDK tbh <3 i will b honest we haven't played hte game In a couple months

OH I ALSOFORGOT TO ADD ANOTHER ASTERISK TO THE "if i met them irl i would beat them up" FOR HIM. IF WE MET HIM IRL HE COULD BEAT US UP fueJFDJSKDKC and "they fill me q incredibly violent urges" + "genuinely what the fuck" are also /positive & honorary. violence is our love language LMAO

The only reason we woild not like him irl is bc he is TALL [And Intimidating]. we are short and anyone way taller than us scares us. idk why <3. we have been like this our entire life. besides that tho he's cool 👍

-Electrochem