#i am a person with a very clear idea of who i am. i know what my identity is and i am not afraid to express it

[alexhasalotofthoughts]

Okay it's been long enough since TIT that I can share my thoughts with a clear head. I literally slept the whole of yesterday because I was so tired (thank you, London).

Seeing Dan and Phil was a really big deal for me—as I'm sure it is for most fans. I've been a fan of DnP since primary school and now I'm nearing the end of secondary school and the start of uni so this feels like a very big full circle moment.

As cringe and stereotypical as it is, DnP videos have always been there when I needed them. When I was having a bad day at school, or struggling to come to terms with my sexuality/gender, there were Dan and Phil, ready to put a smile on my face. Dan's coming out video was released the same year I started being bullied for my sexuality and seeing someone I looked up to as much as him be so honest and open really helped me to feel less alone. I rewatch that video a lot. I will always be grateful for that.

I've worn my Interactive Introverts bracelet everyday since I brought it with the DVD (my mum would not let me see them live at the time as I was "too young" lol) so Dan and Phil, in some way, have been there for every big and small moment in my life. They were technically there when I got an offer from the uni I want to go to. I literally wore a Dan and Phil shirt to my autism assessment. They were mentioned in my autism assessment report (though I am not the person who said that for the confessions part of the show, that was someone else. I am not trying to steal their thunder lol). I can't even begin to express what a big part of my life their videos have been.

As I'm sure has been mentioned many times by now, my show was filmed so I might even end up on YouTube or a DVD (PLEASE DAN AND PHIL, KEEP PHYSICAL MEDIA ALIVE) or something, though I doubt that because I was in the royal circle. Also a drunk girl hung if the balcony and heckled for most of the show. I think even ended up getting kicked out. I saw somewhere on twitter that Phil asked for her to be kicked or mentioned to staff that she was too loud but I have no idea how true that is as I was on the opposite side of the circle to her and I have never and probably will never speak to Phil to confirm this.

Other than that, though, the show was absolutely brilliant!

Genuinely! It was so funny and it was absolutely lovely being in a room of people who have the same interests as me; I literally saw a "Be More Chill" "Boyf" bag, "Heathers" tracksuit bottoms, a FNAF Bonnie keychain and a Doctor Who badge all in the space of 5 minutes of one another. My people. Someone even complimented my hat, though I find London so overwhelming that I forgot to respond properly lol (sorry hat person, you were very nice! I liked your whiskers!).

Before the show, they played "Hot To Go" by Chappell Roan, and the whole theatre sang and danced along, which was absolutely lovely!

I was laughing and cheering for about 2 hours straight, so I'd say it was money well spent, though my mum literally fell asleep during the first act so I don't know if she'd agree.

One thing I will say: seeing sister Daniel in the flesh is literally a HOLY experience—I am so... Gay? Straight? Bisexual?? I'm not sure which word go use in this situation but Daniel was hot, so who cares?

To conclude this overly long blog post no-one will read, it was fun and I feel like 12 year old me would look at me now and smile. I saw Dan and Phil live. I got an offer from the uni I wanted to study film! I write!! I have friends who care about me!! I'm not ashamed to like the things I like!! God, they would be so proud of me. And I am proud of them.

TIT pics below ;)

(That last pic was taken by my mum, hence why I look so awkward. I was happy, I swear.)

Thank you very much if you read this! I really do go on a lot but also this is my blog and I suppose that means I can go on as much as I want.

[yvesismywife]

— ⋆˚｡ IWH2BMX ᝰ.ᐟ chapter nine

y/n l/n, the 4th member of the rnb girl group flo, is notorious for her very noticeable lack of pr training. once she goes through a very public breakup, her pr team finally decided it was time to control her online presence. daniela avanzini, the main dancer of the girl group katseye, found her reputation getting caught in the cross fire of her band mate’s blunt personality. so when both groups are caught at the same party, management gets a not so great idea.

wc: 1.2k (you can skip it if you want, but i think it’s crucial to the story. but do as you please 😭🙏)

not my type

AFTER WHAT FELT LIKE ETERNITY, yn heard the words she wasn’t quite sure if she should be excited, or scared, to hear. “we’re here” “uhm where exactly is ‘here’” the singer asked, following her manager out of the car. “just follow me.”

“y/n l/n. welcome to geffen! you too leila. i guess.” yn is a little confused about the random man who side-eyed her manager, but more confused as to what she is doing here. “don’t drag this out jacob.” her manager said, walking straight past the random man -jacob, to an office. “aren’t you jolly.” he curses under his breath.

“sorry to ruin the dynamic y’all got going on, but, why am i here exactly? if it’s to go solo, that’s too much pressure… so.” the curly-haired girl follows the steps of her manager and takes a seat. “i will take that into consideration! however, that is not the reason you are here today.” jacob sits across from them. “damn. am i not talented enough to be a soloist?” yn dramatically clutches at her heart, like she has been deeply wounded. “i- that’s-” he looks towards her manager, who simply shrugs her shoulders. “you got yourself into that one.” “that’s not what i was trying to say!” “oh so you think i have soloist potential, just not for here?” the singer was having a little too much fun seeing the man squirm trying to answer her pressing questions. “okay enough! one; i don’t have the credentials to sign you, even if i want to. two; that’s not why you’re here. come in.” yn turns around to see a pretty girl with blonde curls. “sit down, daniela.”

“this is why you’re here today.” jacob says, crossing his arms over his suit-covered chest. “what? you guys doing some irl-tinder shi-stuff?” yn laughs. her laugh quickly dials down once she is answered in silence. “i was… joking. you know that right?” she looks towards her manager, for any sign of acknowledgment. “we are all aware of your rather impactful social media presence” the rnb singer smiled. “didn’t say that as a good thing. but such a hefty reputation is not the best for a group.” “oh, don’t worry sir jacob. my fans love it.” yn gleamed with pride. “fans that have been around, yes. but for newcomers, your reputation seems a bit…problematic” the office went silent, nothing other than breaths being heard. “problematic is…crazy. jacob.”

“let me get this straight. i was brought to a foreign building to talk about my social media presence…? this couldn’t have been an email? zoom call? phone call at that?” yn squinted her eyes, looking back and forth between her manager and jacob, trying to understand the situation. “well. maybe i should leave, this clearly has nothing to do with me.” the blonde finally spoke. “not too quick daniela. i wasn’t finished.” with a sigh, daniela sat back down. “as you know, daniela, katseye does not have the shiniest social media presence either.” of course the dancer knew that, she just does not know what that has to do with her. “the whole group knows that, but why am i here for that? sophia’s the leader. and also- to clear things up…again. i’ve never caused anything or any drama. i fear you have the wrong member. manon is at home, i can call her up for you?” “that won’t be necessary,” jacob said, causing daniela to put her phone back in her pants pocket.

“we were going to deal with these…issues, separately. but after seeing a few rather popular tweets last night, we got an idea.” “if it works, i take full credit. if it backfires, it was all his doing.” leila chimes in. “i don’t think i agree with that, but that’s not the focus right now. we have come up with a rather splendid idea. we will fix both problems. together.” “i’m not following…” daniela says, followed by yn. “yeah. you said a lot but nothing at the same time, really.” “what’s your problem? no one understood a single thing you said. not even me and i already know the dang plan.” leila rubs her forehead. “what he was trying to say is, because of such a terrible professional reputations, to fix it, you two-” she points towards yn and daniela, “-will be having a pr relationship. do you see how easy that was? telling your whole life story before getting to the point.” “i didn’t just want to blurt it out without any explanation!”

while the two managers were arguing, the minds of both daniela and yn were spiralling.

“wait. let me just make sure i’m not correct. you want me and this stranger to date? because of a few tweets?” the blonde asked. “yes! exactly!” the man replied. “no.” both girls say in unison. “i shouldn’t even be here. i’ve never caused any problems! again, manon should be here! why am i taking the blame?” daniela was perplexed that her blame by association had gotten this serious. “while that is true, her image is… horrendous. but i felt, considering you are almost always a part of manon’s actions, and needless to say a very popular member right now so i felt this would be perfect publicity.” “well you felt wrong. i don’t want to be involved. and, not to put your efforts to waste, but she's not my type.” that was the rudest sentence yn had ever heard her whole career. “not your type!? i was gonna say no to this whole ordeal because i legit just had a somewhat, public breakup. but you saying no because i’m not your type is crazy!”

“wow! okay! let’s.. uhm move on. quickly! breakups! yn, you just got out of a breakup… that was all over pop base. and daniela, the girls talked about how you recently got out of a relationship with…i don’t know who, so now- the public knows you are both single which is why you two are also perfect for this.” jacob is a little too excited to play fake match maker and yn is a little concerned this was not thought through. “not to doubt your...creativity, but we -i- just got out of a relationship, so why is this a smart idea??” “i read it in a book once.” “yeah, no.” the blonde chimes in. “as much as i don’t like her because she is rude, i have to agree. no.” daniela annoyingly scoffed at yn’s response. “i’m not rude simply because you’re not my type.” “actually that’s exactly why you’re rude! that was the rudest sentence anyone has ever said to me!” “you’re so conceited.” yn lets out a loud gasp in response to daniela’s very vocal opinions about her. “looks like your plan is a bust jacob.” leila leans back, crossing her arms across her chest.

“enough!” jacob yells. “this is happening. not because i want to replicate a novel, but because all the other chances and choices have yet to work. you two will get along and will make this believable. understand?”

“yeah, i guess” “fine. but there were totally other options.”

prev - masterlist - next

a/n: i got carried away 😕 and i pictured jacob to be a british man…idk why lolz so i tried to give him british flare.. but i’ve never met a brit soooo… and ALSO i acc don’t know if hybe has a building in la… or if katseye practices at geffen, so i had to use my big brain and CREATIVITY 🫨

— taglist: @1luvkarina @yjiminswallet @sunshinez4 @winnmin @lara4eclipze @wtfisthisnoclueman @flowerluzx @meizinisnumberone @leotapes @meganskiendielsbtc @reey0w @haerinkisser @cassiespoiler @peanutbutterlover05 @p1hbrook @kristalag @yeetaberry127 @blushmimi @xochitlisbest @urmom2314 @bowforgodjihyo

[nordicfiord]

Do you have any other dynamics between the voices that you like,besides Cold and Contrarian?

Love your art,by the way,especially Contrarian!I love how soft and puffy he looks!

Ohhh, thanks for the question! And thanks for the kind words!! Have another Contrarian – he is pretty sure his friendship with anyone would be good!

it also would consist of bullying half the time but if everyone is content that it can lead to some of the best friendships out there!

And now… IT’S RUMBLING TIME!!

tldr: I am semi-interested in most dynamics, but am currently obsessed with just one. Crossovers and AUs make dynamics more fun for me to think about because of backgrounds.

So! Voices, huh? What a wild bunch.

I love those little guys. I love that mostly here at the stp fandom we are just interpreting them through our own lenses of understanding – through our own perspectives. It is very fitting, and it allows all of us to view these dynamics in many, many different situations.

Honestly, my brain is a mess. It is a giant cauldron, where everything at once is boiling and twisting and turning. That’s why everything is mixing up into lots of crossovers and weird ideas. 

Can I say that I like voices dynamics in canon? Sure! I like that one Adv-Fury route with Stubborn and Contrarian having the “I may not have a brain, gentlemen, but I have an idea” moment. I like that Hero tried to stand up for us in Cage and Paranoid helped Skeptic to insist on his solution by “physically” restraining him?? What a power move. Pretty much every interaction between voices is something interesting to think about, honestly.

But, uhh…

My brain just chose two random clowns and said “Them. I wanna rotate them.”

Honestly I don’t even know why he (my brain) did it. Maybe he just projected my favourite dynamic (clown and clown enabler). But I like other dynamics too??? Why not them???

Genuinely don’t know.

BUT!

Remember I talked about AUs, crossovers and stuff? Those are bigger dollhouses for my brain. There he can assign some dynamics to characters and watch them unfold.

Examples? Sure!

Skeptic being “the mom friend”. Originally it went from the need to have anyone that could control ContraColdChaos. But when I thought about putting voices in my old Steven Universe AU (I will talk about it here I swear it is just too much to unpack….), it all just made so much more sense. Because there Skeptic was the one responsible for revolution and leaving their home world, ended up on an unknown planet with some very troubled teammates (traumatised disabled leader, “I-died-so-many-times-I-can’t-be-stable” general, repeated killer of said general, army refugee and a high-quality spy) and he HAD to take responsibility and make sure nobody dies. Also that created a very interesting dynamic with Hero, because Hero is basically a young abused ruler who doesn’t believe he has any autonomy… and here Skeptic is, his subordinate, who literally is making all the decisions. Like, it’s clear that Skeptic cares and wants the best for Hero… but he is pretty much adding to a family emotional neglect.

And there’s more. Opportunist feeling like he owes Smitten for saving his life. Cold and Skeptic trying to process that they’ve killed and revived the very same person. Smitten being this person and trying to live a normal life with his murderer and resurrector in the same home.

I guess I just… Can’t operate inside of the canon universe with the little outside influence there is?

Maybe in my head-universe, when TLQ left, he left the voices a big fun playground, where they can put various masks and play many, many different stories. They need something to occupy their “forever” too, after all.

Anyway thanks if you’ve read this far!! I appreciate it, really. Sorry if it’s not uhh… organized? Like I said, my mind really is a mess, haha.

Have a nice day everyday!~

[lkblackham]

Warning: this is an angst post about Dragon Age, EA, and the state of the corporate-driven art world in general. I totally get it if you're really over this. I am right there with you. But if you DO read, thanks. You're a peach and I love you.

To begin:

It looks like Dragon Age is done. BioWare has made it clear that the last patch is where they're leaving it. EA was disappointed with the player count, and I'm betting they're not going to greenlight a new entry in the series anytime soon. And that honestly breaks my battered 32-year-old fantasy artist heart.

So imma angst about it for a second because this is now a Dragon Age page and it's all I talk about on here, because honestly where else am I gonna angst about this.

As much as I gush about Veilguard on here, I am actually well aware of its flaws. Believe me, I *know* it's not perfect. When I got the art book, I saw just HOW FRIGGIN MUCH the team had planned for DA4 - and how much they had to cut to finish it, after 10 YEARS of development. I know about the absolute *hell* it went through, the massive number of team members that were fired or left the studio before it was finished, the ridiculous expectations and demands EA executives made that caused the studio to scrap everything and start over several times.

Knowing this, it's incredible that Veilguard is at least *intact* and *playable* and still has that Dragon Age personality (at least to me, personally - I understand why some people do not feel the same way, and that's perfectly valid) (and by valid I do not include the 'anti-woke' brigade, you can fuck right off my page if you're here for some strange reason).

THAT is what I gush about - that feeling is still there, even when it's not perfect and had a very troubled development.

This series has meant so much to me over the decades, and remains my favorite fantasy series, period, overall. It's my comfort place (rather weirdly, considering the blood, gore, and brood mothers) and also served as something of a social simulator for me when I was really young and had social anxiety so bad I literally couldn't say hi to people I knew in public. I was convinced I would do it wrong. So having these pre-constructed interactions with fictional characters that I could go back and redo if I wanted was really therapeutic.

I mean, I did go to actual therapy and take medication as well, but you know, this stuff is important, too.

The example I will always cite (and probably have already on this page but whatever) is Sten. Sten, in Origins, is the huge stoic badass warrior archetype, and I was constantly trying to earn his approval in the game. But I kept FAILING. He kept UN-HEARTING me. And I couldn't figure out why! I was saying all the nice dialogue options! I was agreeing with him on stuff! So what would it take to get some approval from this asshole?

I finally caved and looked up a guide. And I was floored to discover that, actually, Sten approves of you *when you stand up to him*. He wants you to have a backbone, even if it means disagreeing with him. He respects a strong leader who stands up for what they believe in, not a yes man trying to get him to like them.

This concept, the idea that even a *fictional character* like this could exist, was absolutely amazing to me. It sounds really dumb, but seriously, it actually shifted my thinking about how I talk to people and what they expect of me. It was a small shift, but it's still stuck with me all these years later. It's a testament to the power of stories, and how the interactive nature of games can tell stories in a way no other medium can.

I've had many other experiences with other games and books and movies and TV series like that since. But because of that effect it had at that time in my life, Dragon Age has a special place in my heart no other series does.

But... That's not the only reason I'm sad about the outcome with Veilguard. It's really only half the reason, actually.

The other half is my anger at the game development machine as a whole. We all know it. We've all watched it churn and grind several studios into pulp. We've seen big time studio execs - most of whom, these days, haven't ever actually worked in game design and probably don't even play games themselves - treat designers like garbage they can just throw away when they're done with them, or they don't perform their perceived function the way the execs want them to. (I know it's not just execs that do this, but they're certainly the central problem). These people are in charge, but they aren't artists or storytellers. They see things in terms of products and consumers, monetization schemes, player counts. They don't see the value in what they sell, beyond how much money they bring in.

There is a necessary place for people like this in any business, certainly, but they should never, ever, EVER be the ones in charge. If the past three decades have taught me anything, it is this. These people care about how much wealth they can hoard, and nothing else. We now live in a world where creativity is manufactured by an algorithm, because these people don't want to pay actual humans to do it. The value of artists and what they make is reduced purely to profit.

Don't get me wrong, as an artist myself I do like being able to make money. I certainly like being able to do what I do for a living. But I don't do it *just* to earn money. If that were the case, I would have just stuck with my job chopping vegetables at that deli in my hometown that paid way better and gave me health insurance (not that that's a shameful profession - I seriously would have stuck to that job if I had actual business brains). I do art because it's what I love and what I live for. Hell, I am making NO money from my art right now, but I still make it. Even when my projects fail, I still think they're important, and are worth investing in. I go back to those projects, get feedback, see what I can do better, and try again. I grow, and do better, and give those stories a chance to grow as well.

And that's what's missing from not only the games industry, but most creative industries now, at least on the market end: that understanding of art's inherent worth. That willingness to try again, and improve. Giving things a chance to grow, beyond just player counts and profit numbers.

That was what made Baldur's Gate 3 such a phenomenal success, from which (I think) competing studies took the wrong lesson. Larian worked on the game as a labor of love (as well as a labor of money) interacting with the people playing it, taking feedback, and incorporating their own passion for the project over and over again. They went the extra 1000 miles. They let the game grow and do better.

I'm not saying that Veilguard should have done that BG3 did. What I am saying is that it should have been given more of a chance to grow. As it is, right now, there is still potential to do better. But.... it's not getting that chance. It's the first Dragon Age game that isn't getting any DLC, no extra content, no other chances to expand upon the story. And, it looks like, the series as a whole might not be getting any more chances at all. Maybe I'm wrong - I might just be coming over all bitter and cynical (as only an unemployed artist with mountains of student debt can). I understand that BioWare might just be done with it after a friggin decade. But... it just feels unfair. And sad. At least for me.

It is just a game, at the end of the day. There will be other games, other products to consume. But. This product meant a lot to me. Art, of all kinds, means so much to me. And seeing the way art of any kind is treated now, but especially things like this... It hurts. A lot. And it keeps happening.

So. In order to combat that, lest I fall down a despair hole and never come out: I'm going to keep filling in holes. I'm going to make my OWN personal DLC.( Or, um. Just 'C', I guess.) Even if I can't code and model, I can write and draw and comic. I have my own stories in my own self indulgent fantasy worlds to tell, but I'm also going to keep adding to Dragon Age, at least in my own canon. Even if it doesn't mean anything to anyone else, it'll mean a lot to me. And I hope I'll get to see other people continue to make their own DA art and stories, as well as worlds of their own making. We need art - ALL art - right now, more than ever. Seriously.

As Andrew Wincott, the actor behind Raphael in Baldur's Gate 3, said: "Keep being creative. Keep making these worlds, and maybe one day we'll learn to protect the one we're in."

And that's me, angsted out. Thanks so much for reading. If you've made it this far, I have a gift for you:

It's Varric's chest hair. One of my criticisms for Veilguard is that there is not nearly enough chest hair on anyone but particularly not on Varric, which I think might be an actual crime.

[ctl-yuejie]

a taste

[queen0fm0nsterz]

thinking about the Lady again and she actually is the Character Ever.

Starting off with her design. How ridiculously simple it is, right? Her yukata is plain brown and has a single layer, her wig (and yes, I am positive what she wears is not her hair but a wig soley because of how easily it comes undone... that kind of hairstyle is meant to STICK when done with actual hair) has no decorations befitting a woman of her powerful status and her mask is nothing but... empty. You could mistake her for a mannequin and you wouldn't even be wrong. It's by design, after all: she is as insanely important, as a figure, as she is anonymous as a person.

But then, it's with amusement that you note that that boring, unexpressive mask is called the "Rascal's mask" when unlocked. It's such an oddly affectionate nickname stemming from a person so utterly despicable. And then you notice her hair. Her long, black hair that should be hidden under her wig, as the hairstyle goes, but are instead hanging out freely. Not very traditional at all, right? You could almost read it as a small act of defiance of... something. Now, what that thing is, I doubt even she knows. Maybe it's just her way to seek individuality without having to step into zones she does not want to touch.

And then, of course, the lack of shoes. It's not uncommon for people to wear slippers in the house - especially for the Japanese - but she just... doesn't. In that small, small way, she is similar to Six - and every other child in the Maw running around barefoot. Except she's above running, of course. She's got the privilege of floating like a ghost so that she may never touch the ground.

(The only time when this rule is broken is when she fights Six, poetically enough. You can see her visibly step back.)

These strange little things are the first things that push you to wonder about her as a person. Not the title, not the Lady of the Maw: the individual behind the mask. Who is that person? What is she like? Is there a way to answer these questions? I think yes, if you know where to look - but is it worth to ask these questions considering what she does?

That depends on you. Me personally, I think there is narrative worth to be found in what she has to hide. Her foil, Six, finds value in the aspects of herself she does not hide: she is very unapologetic in her selfhood. The Lady isn't, for the most part.

(I wonder if that would make her envious of her younger counterpart in a different context?)

Frankly, looking back on her choice of attire, the fact that her personal bedroom is barely decorated is not surprising. She only has the essentials: a bed, the vase with the key, a few pictures of importance (of people long forgotten, herself included no doubt) and... an ungodly amount of misplaced clothes all over her quarters. All the same yukata, repeated over and over, maniacally folded and arranged in towers, but never where they're supposed to be.

A bedroom is the reflection of yourself. Of your inner world. The fact hers looks so barebones is quite telling about who she is. Or isn't. She herself may have some trouble trying to figure that one out.

I think that, in a vacuum, it's easy to assume that the reason she's so displeased by her reflection is soley out of vanity. That is definitely part of it, but I don't think that's all there is. Because after seeing the mannequins that all look just like her, the four women in the picture who also wear her same exact clothes... and that hidden quote.

This quote, which is from Alice in Wonderland. Specifically from a conversation in which Alice expresses how she doesn't recognise herself anymore because of how many times she grew big and small during the course of the day. She is not the same person she was before entering Wonderland.

I find the way she clings to the dolls and the music box to be much more... sombre when keeping this in mind. In a way, that scene is reminiscent of Monster Six clinging to her music box in the chaos of the Tower; an attempt to attach to something safe. For the Lady, it's even more personal. Those are her toys. Her song. No one can take them from her and claim them as theirs. These materialistic tomes are physical proof of her identity. She likes dolls, and she likes to sing that song from her music box. Surely, that much is something.

But a ceramic toy and an old music box are not really enough to placate the inner turmoil. Hence the broken mirrors, the hidden statues... the hung down portraits with their eyes scratched out - from times of the past. There is a person looking back in the mirror which she does not recognise. That can't be her, right?

It isn't. The reflection is but a faux image of her outward appearence. The inside, however... much like this concept art shows, she is melting away. Rapidly decaying no matter how much she tries to stick to her youth.

Because at the end of the day, that's what she's doing, no? The toys, the music box, her appearence... all of it, just to cling a bit more to the person she used to be. Point being that I doubt even she remembers what she used to be.

You'd think a person like this would be inclined to feel at least some sympathy for all the lost children wandering the Nowhere. A sense of kinship, perhaps, or even just... basic human compassion. She has proved to have very human emotions, after all. This is where she proves you wrong. Whenever you think she's stepped the lowest, she always goes lower.

In her humanity, she is brutal. Relentless, ruthless. She offers no sympathy to anyone and has no empathy to spare either. She is very much aware of what's going on under her roof: she not only allows the Maw to continue being the way it is in spite of having the power to change things, but she actively engages in its despicable practices. She has petrified children in her quarters, as well as their ashes - of which the use is unclear - and then she is responsible for the Nome population and exploitation being so large and so eerily heavy. She's twisted necks, broken bones, murdered innocents.

The Shadow Children are, to me, one her greatest offenses. I don't think they serve any particular purpose other than... being there because she wanted to make them. Children ripped away from their life because of her whims. Not even in death can they rest because she can get her hands on their souls. They're nameless, forgotten shadows with blank masks: they're just like their creator, in that way. Ripped of all individuality and devoid of everything.

Everything she sees, the Lady devours. Not a creature is safe from her shadows and her wrath, especially if they come and actively intrude in her activities. She's twice as aggressive if the Maw is at stake.

The Lady's personal bedroom has another motif piece which I did not previously mention: the Maw wallpaper. While Roger and the Chefs have wallpapers that portray them with her, the Lady... does not. She only has the Maw. She's not part of that picture.

The Lady can't let the Maw change its ways. She is the Maw. The Maw must survive: so must she. To change the Maw would mean challenging herself enough to bring about a change; to her, who does nothing but lament what she lost, that would be too much effort. Too outside of the comfortable zone where she can survive in peace. Miserable, but unbothered.

... For the most part. Until Six comes around.

[cherry-treelane]

everytime i feel bad and stressed about my life i remember that i might be in a troubling situation and having a bad time but im not season 4 fiona gallagher in the clink after leaving crack on the counter which my 3 year old baby brother happened to ingest resulting in a fatal near-death experience thats wracked me with never-ending guilt and forever altered my life

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

I want to thank my Lord and savior Tom Cardy for posting a song that has the exact vibe I wanted for the relationship of ps8!Lance/ps8!Allura with an oc I have for this au

[bigqueervillain]

Okay so family gossip time. I’m at my uncle’s wedding to a woman he’s known for a year. His ex-wife died a year ago, and they were only separated for about 6 months before she died. He basically left her after he found out about her terminal cancer diagnosis. My cousin (uncle’s son) is understandably not coping well, but is trying to be supportive because he’s a good kid who hasn’t quite figured out how to deal with the fact that his dad’s a raging asshole yet.

The rehearsal dinner was last night and it is becoming VERY CLEAR from talking to the fiancée’s family that they have no clue about any of this. Some of them have even asked my cousin how his mom is doing.

Tumblr, how do I sabotage my uncle?

[shyspider]

I hope its not too weird of me to come out and say this but I hope you're doing okay. I've seen some of the things you've said and that you're not feeling yourself and I want you to know that its okay to take breaks and time to yourself. I hope you're putting yourself first........ and drink water.

I'm drinking black coffee straight from the pot - is that the same?

Okay but no seriously, I teared up some and of course I'm going to deflect with humor and say everything is just a struggle right now but I'll be okay. But I've been saying I'll be okay for months and I'm still trying to get out of this funk. I don't like getting personal and would rather suffer silently, but fuck it - new year. I'm stepping out of my comfort zone for a hot minute.

I'm grieving. No one died. Just the dynamics of a relationship changed, and it's affected me deeply. I AM putting myself first, and that's why it hurts. It's affected my writing (thank the muses I spent my hiatus finishing the fics so I have stuff to post) where I struggle to focus. I struggle answering comments with that ❤️ energy I like putting out in the world. I struggle with thinking about Transformers, because that person cultivated my love for them, and is deeply tied to it all.

I'm actively working towards healing. I'm determined to be okay, someday. I just hate that it might take a while. I'll still post regularly, but I'm sorry I haven't been putting out the positive vibes, lately.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[jackass-jones]

Actually cry so goddamn hard when I think about Shinjiro Aragaki healing and being loved and having to learn to be okay with himself and being taken care of

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rinielelrandir]

*waves* Hi! Just wanna chime in here to say that OP's point is 100% correct. Which I say as someone who's actual real stance is "all states are bad and shouldn't exist". Because while I can't think of a single state in the world not currently doing some sort of harm and my preferred option to end the harm that states do is to eliminate states, a) that's not a realistic goal at present and b) doesn't mean we do nothing now to stop the harm they're doing oh my god why do I even need to say this????

Like, come on y'all, OP and I shouldn't need to tell you that essentially not doing anything bc you think the current system is bad is worse than the people who are trying to fix the system because they think it can be fixed. Your politics, beliefs, and activism have to include current harm reduction strategies or they are worse than useless.

As an example that I think may help people who aren't getting it, if you support the end of a punitive criminal justice system, your activism & politics probably involve some things that are harm reduction and working to reform the existing system (like bail funds or criminal justice reform laws), even if your ultimate end goal is to completely abolish the existing system and establish a new system that doesn't utilize punitive measures at all.

If your beliefs on states are that they shouldn't exist, you need to have harm reduction and work to reform the current system too. Because it isn't going anywhere anytime soon and real people are being harmed right now. And YES, I *am* explicitly including Isreal & Palestine in this. You don't actually get to single out the *only* majority Jewish state in the world as the one to dismantle and call that praxis.

Bitchy take incoming: "I'm against the existence of any state" and "actually I believe in dismantling all states" are essentially useless positions that add almost nothing to any political discussion except to allow the speaker to deflect certain types of criticism and project an image of being committed ideologically while dealing in unserious hypotheticals.

I like everyone I follow but some of you are pretty silly sometimes. You can feel this way if you want to and maybe on some large theoretical level it's reasonable but when speaking of actual policy and political action it is worse than useless to say "Actually I don't think any state should exist."

They do, and that's simply not changing.

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!