#katie lore

[orchideous-nox]

On my birthday this year, I sat in the food court at the zoo and explained Rosekiller to my mum and because it was my birthday she did not cut me off. I rambled about the pronunciation of "Rosier" and how Karkaroff says it different to Crouch Sr, how Barty took polyjuice potion to turn into the man who killed the love of his life, how Evan left Moody with a lasting reminder of their duel and Barty locked him away in a trunk for months. I told her about Evan's obsessions with teeth and bones and dissecting animals, and how Barty is unhinged but will help Evan with his science experiments to make him happy.

It was perfect.

[myfairkatiecat]

Yes, your childhood lore

Why hello mysterious anon. What an interesting question to ask.

Let’s play five truths and a lie, shall we?

:)

[the-hawkeyes]

for the canon casters: what does casting magic feel like to your wol? how does being "out of mana" feel?

for the physical fighters: how does it feel when they do those impossible moves? the twirls, the jumps? do they supplement with aether? dynamis? is it purely physical or is something else involved?

what would your wol be if they weren't the wol? what would they do as a job or career? would they be happier?

for Katie! (idk if shes a melee or caster or both so i sent both)

Oh gosh this is quite the question to answer, but its perfect because I've been trying to think about her fighting style for a bit (both for the WoL part and also if she was in a fighting game).

Katie is both. She's a rushdown sort of fighter. She wants to get right into your face, mix you up, and make you feel powerless. It took.....probably until Stormblood to really get her fighting style down. She uses magic to be both offensive and defensive (but like, 80-20 respectively. Yeah she has a DP lmao [Dragon Punch, an invincible special move that is powerful when it hits but it super hurts when it misses and you get punished for it]).

Casting feels secondhand to her now. It's as simple and easy as breathing, as thinking, as moving an arm without thinking. It simply....happens. There's a sensation there, sure, but she always struggles to explain it properly. She thinks it, she does it, she feels it. Hear, Feel, Think.

For being out of mana, she feels empty. It's an uncomfortable feeling, like someone took a spoon into her and scooped out all of her insides. Hollow. Her personality changes during this state too. She's still in full control of her faculties and mind, but there's very little emotion behind her voice. She doesn't particularly like this feeling, so she tends to avoid it whenever possible.

For doing the actual, physical fighting? It's a thrill. With Fray and Ravana packed within her, its exhilarating. It relates up to the part where she does magic. When she fights its mostly all her doing it, having trained her body to do these things. Naturally she augments her fighting with aether, and now is working on incorporating Akasa (dynamis, i like Akasa so much better) into what she can do more willingly.

She feels free, thrilled, unhinged when she's physically fighting. She tends to get more focused than she should, Ravana's influence ever present even though the primal is no longer wanting to take over her body like he was trying to do at the start.

As for if she wasn't the WoL? She'd be a carpenter. A woodworker. Less making pieces of art to display in homes but making the homes, making the displays. It's something she's always done and continues to do as the WoL. She has her own workshop now, sometimes taking commission work, but mostly doing it because she loves it and she can!

[katie-is-tired-yay]

okay story time

when I was a kid, we had a black cat called Daisy. Daisy died when she was less than a year old, due to complications when she was neutered. Last week, I bought a set of earrings, black cats with flowers. I didn’t even realise it until today but those flowers are daisies.

That cat was only in my life for such a short time, but she left such a mark on me. And now, every now and again, I can put those on and carry a reminder of her with me.

[orchideous-nox]

yesterday my manager was like "Katie's creative, do you have any ideas for making Halloween decorations for the office?", like I don't think any creativity skills I have will be useful in this scenario unless you get really cool with a lot of things real quick

the president of the company i work for asked me today if my “creative writing hobby” (i have no idea how he knows i write) would be helpful at work…

[paprikaries]

"L'enfer" _ og Vaggie tribute Fanart: Vaggie/Vagatha/Hazbin Hotel (spindlehorse studio/Vivziepop/Amazon) So, as far as I understood watching some old Vivziepop drawings, apparently she originally was a demon, not an angel, and she went to hell because she committed suic1de (which was considered a sin few years ago in catholicism) hanging herself to escape the bullying or something like that. It was very dark, but I think it would have been a good way to criticize the sorting of souls between heaven and hell, to talk about how sometimes victims were sent to hell, not just executioners. What do you think?

[tophatwearingidiot]

₴₮ⱤɆ₴₴₣ɄⱠ Đ₳Ɏ

I REALLY LIKED YESTERDAYS EP HEHEHE

I love the Karen lore drop, they better continue this or I'm rioting

This took me longer than it should have grr </3 /silly

Background and Karen separated versions down below :3

[Only Karen]

[Only background]

Very proud of this one tbh hehe :3

[tiodolma]

Series 4 Merlin and Morgana on a short skit for CBBC!!!

Morgana steals a kid's belongings into Camelot Castle, then Merlin returns them!

skit starts at 0:45. It's so cute!

also.

it implies merlin & morgana shenanigans while they chase each other around camelot castle in their free time lol

[letterlifter]

hi mr mailman! i know you arent a part of the writing team, but is there any specific reason why pacesetter and firestarter ended up paired together? you've mentioned both of them having musical/metal inspo, was that part of it? or was it more of just throwing darts at a board? love your work!! <3

thank you!

this is just my personal/non-official/non-lore perspective on it, but I see a lot of character relationships in media that have some obvious shared theme, like fire and water, which is cool… But Pacesetter and Firestarter, despite being seemingly unrelated at a glance, actually have subtler things in common (shared music taste being among them… PS probably enjoys hearing about drama from FS too). their personalities complement each other well despite the visual differences. firestarter needs the confidence; pacesetter needs the appreciation, validation, and probably many other things… maybe he could learn some patience too…

as for the real-world reason why they're in a relationship… well… my memory is bad, but IIRC, it came up a year or two ago... I believe the idea for their relationship existed before either character had a tie to music, back when they just had personalities and designs (which are essentially the same as they are now), so in that way, the initial idea was very personality based

of course the previous paragraphs relate to it, but let’s say this��� they told me personally that they wanted to be together

[orchideous-nox]

The weird ace-spectrum cravings of being touch starved in a way where like I could totally kiss a person but I don't want them to touch me. Hands in non-sexual places, keep it in their pants, I don't want it to go anywhere but like....just a kiss is fine. But also I cannot kiss just a random person like....make it make sense

[myfairkatiecat]

how long have you been in fandom/writing fandom things? (not just kotlc, fandom in general)

I made my first ao3 account in 2020 during my Star Wars phase, ended up deleting it, and made a new one in 2021, still during Star Wars

However, the very first fandom I ever wrote for was Keeper of the Lost Cities. Right after Nightfall came out, I wrote a version of what I thought could happen in Flashback. I was eleven and the fic included Amy turning out to be an elf and Linh training her in hydrokinesis. Sophie and Fitz also got together forever, and Biana and Keefe started dating. As you can tell, I have changed A LOT since I was eleven!! :D

So yeah 2017 was my first ever fandom fjc ever, and my earliest fanfictions were for KOTLC! I wrote a few for the wiki at some point too (I genuinely don’t remember how that worked) and had quite a few things posted on Wattpad. I didn’t write a ton of kotlc fanfiction after 2019, until this year, when I decided to come to tumblr and interact with my favorite fandom of all time, and naturally all the fanfic ideas came rushing back.

Thanks for the ask!!

[humanintownau]

☆Human in Town!☆

Welcome to the blog! This is all the information you need about this blog! (Updates will be notified!)

Last updated: 11/27

My main blog: bbqgrape

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What is this blog about?

By the title, this blog is about my new BATiM AU "Human in town!"

Now, about the environment:

• This story takes place in Toon Town, or as most refer to it "Toonsie town". A small fact, toons can immediately tell what type of personality a toon has just by which name they use for the town.

• Toon Town is the equivalent of New York, which was infested with all sorts of different toons, considering it was a big town. The smaller towns are Inkfell (Full of mafiosos with ink businesses), Hale Halos (Populated by mostly angels, I'll get into it on why later on).

• As by the first cover I did for the AU, this au takes place in 1961.

• Toon Town and other towns or living areas are separate from the human world. Each toon has the ability to leave the human world, but none can leave the toon world. This is important.

The characters:

I removed the refs for each of the characters' scars, because Tumblr only lets 10 per post 😔

• Daniel/la Darling:

(Couldn't fit each personality trait, so everything is a bit specific sorry `^u^)

Oooh boy, Daaaaniel, I have a lot to say about him...

And you probably already guessed, Daniel is a human in disguise. Well, he's technically a toon now, but with all the differences he has compared to toons, he might get his own category soon.

Daniel was a victim of "Angel farming" (will get into that later), and was a subject to torture and experimenting. And with no choice, he had to use one in a lifetime chance to escape. And that cost, well...a lot. First off, he's homeless, hungry, and even craving those peas he was force-fed back in the facility.

As I mentioned before, he was a victim of "Angel farming". This is an old project that has been active since the 1930's. This project is about turning humans into toons, more preferably angels, or any feathery toon. They are used for their wings (or halo). After those parts are removed, they make them regrow back by ink. This is a cycle that brings a lot of money to not only criminals, but also studios. Yes, studios. Money is money.

"Toon farming" is more popular, due to having less resources to make and sell them. (One of the reasons barely any toons are in the Human world).

Next on the list is...

• Benedetto 'Bendy' Stein

For now, I'll keep this short, since I don't want to spoil much. And I'll have elaborate on why Bendy's personality traits are too short (Yeah, it's because Bendy's gotta be the center of attention).

Soo... Let's start off straight and clear, Bendy's a mafia boss. And a good one at that, despite being kind of a dumbass. However, he's kept quite a reputation for the past few years, especially in 1959 (I ain't telling you why 🤫🧏).

His partners in crime are Boris (his best friend, and also a part of the mafia), Samuel 'Sammy' Lawrence (One of his soldiers), The Butcher gang (which joined Bendy's gang as an agreement), Katie, and Daniel.

And for his personality, well...

He's... confident to say the least, it's what scares the rivals, and other things... 😨

Anyway, he's, despite his attitude or "occupation", he's quite loving and caring to the people he loves or cares about. One of his redeeming qualities. And if we compare him to the other mafiosos, he'd be a saint. But it doesn't mean he doesn't get his hands dirty when he needs to.

• Boris Stein

Another mafia boss to the list (Benedetto and Boris run the same one. They were forced to share /j)

Okay, Boris seems like a prick on the outside, but is quite caring and soft to the people he thinks deserves it (except Katie, they don't get along well...). His tough exterior and physique helps him in fights, and also to intimidate rivals.

Benedetto's short temper and anger problems always have to be relieved, and Boris is there to do it as the calm older brother.

• Samuel 'Sammy' Lawrence

Oh this grumpy old man...

Anyways... Sammy's a human as well. And has been here FAAAR longer than Daniel is. He died in 1935, when he was 26 years old, and is now pushing his retirement age. He hides his true age so Benedetto wouldn't place him in the retirement home. He's still 54, but his "body" and mind is one of a 30+ year old. He isn't that wise to be a grandpa, but isn't ignorant enough to be your typical older brother.

He's a trustworthy man for Benedetto, with his intelligence surrounding ambushing, and unlocking different closed off places, rooms, vaults, etc.

• Cinnamon --------

Toon Town's biggest sunshine. She's basically the kindest person you could ever talk to. She's amazing at advice and enjoys spending time with her friends and -----.

She, despite her sweet and optimistic personality, is quite reserved, afraid of saying too much. She always tries to display herself the best way possible. She's afraid to show her true self.

• Katie M'lady

Born to be a tiger, forced to be a lap cat.../j

Katie is a fierce soldier who will always protect her fellow comrades. If you're being jumped, she'll probably help you (unless if you stole her favourite booze from the bar cabinet). Benedetto always takes her everywhere during chaotic missions, because of her experience with fighting, and also her capability of working under pressure. She's quite reserved, so no one knows much of her. Only that she'll beat your ass if you look at her the wrong way.

• ----------

Wait, who was she supposed to be again?

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Differences between humanoid toons (Non-native toons) and real (native) toons:

Let's take Daniel (outdated design, will be remade in the future, but so far everything is canon) for example...

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Tags:

#BBQGrape's art: all my art is in this tag, including my main blog.

#Human in Town au lore / or just lore: lore about the au, environment, characters, backstories and so on

#Human in Town au: Anything related to the au / blog

#Daniel Darling: Mentions or drawings of Daniel (my oc)!

#Oc:Daniel Darling: Same as the previous one

#Benedetto Bendy Stein: for that cheeky bastard Bendy

#Boris Stein: for the big ol' woof

#Katie M'lady: ladies first.

#Cinnamon --- the ferret: Mmm, Cinnamon buns...

#Samuel Sammy Lawrence the old bastard: the old bastard.

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Qna:

• Is it okay for my ocs to interact with the characters?

A: of course! I am more than happy to answer them! ^^

• Can I make ocs for this au?

A: Of course! Feel free to draw them and most importantly, tag me; I'd love to see them!!!

• What kind of asks will you ignore?

A: I won't ignore any, except for ones that are basically not related to the blog in any way.

Or being inappropriate. That's an option too.

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Thank you for reading!

[wallbeatjournal]

can i tell you all about my conspiracy theory that roberto chose to do heathers as the season 3 riverdale musical specifically to SEO-bomb and suppress out of google-documented existence that horrible right-wing heathers 2018 miniseries that was developed as probably the most blatantly contemptuous cash-grab riverdale rip-off of all time so far

heathers the edgy tv reboot was essentially the evil (straight, boomer-oriented) version of riverdale that tvland funded. it came out in 2018, was hated by everyone and undoubtedly flooded the riverdale media team's google alerts during its whole short and notorious run

and nowdays. well. guess how many qualifiers you have to add to your google search to find reviews of that horrible 2018 heathers reboot where all the minorities were the real bullies because they could cancel people. it's a lot of qualifiers if you don't want to just see chapter fifty-one: big fun

[fraudulent-cheese]

You know what? Here are some Katie and Sadie headcanons!

they've made a ton of kandi for eachother and in general (you can recongnise Sadie's ones thanks to their heavy use of blacks and whites, Katie's use yellows and a bunch of different shades of pink)

they're ravers in their free time (Henke Penke was right)

Sadie is good at DJ'ing and has made a couple songs in her free time, Katie's a great dancer (especially in breakdance) and is a great singer

Katie's great at decorating parties

Sadie's great at spotting the kind of people who will be trouble at parties and Katie's great at helping the kind of people that dragged themselves at a party/are getting overwhelmed at one

Katie's slightly better than Sadie at mario kart, which is balanced out by Sadie being a little luckier than her

They usually wear matching outfits but in working on being less codependant have also started wearing different clothing. They're still wearing the same color palettes with some exceptions.

They're in a QPR :p

They absolutely have a similar type in girls. While Sadie had some male celebrity crushes Katie felt she had to share while they were growing up, their crushes on female celebrities are actually shared.

Katie figured out she was a girl very early thanks to Sadie. Her parents also told her about her being intersex around that time.

They looooove romcoms. Love watching them, talking about them, their tropes, ect... Sadie generally has higher standards regarding the writing but Katie has a soft spot for the more melodramatic ones. To a degree.

They watched one in theaters once together and they thought it was so awful they spent the next hour afterwards at a cafe fucking TRASHING it.

I insist on them basically being the reference point for romcom movies. If Harold or Cody has a shitty youtube channel reviewing movies and they talk about a romcom, they'll get Katie and/or Sadie in it and the videos with them in it get 50k more views.

Katie's youtube channel is mostly Kandi tutorials and dance choreography stuff, Sadie's youtube channel is movie discussion and occasionally her songs. She posts about her music way more on her tumblr blog.

[aerodaltonimperial]

(this was not what i was supposed to be writing but WHEN HAS THAT EVER STOPPED ME. awhile ago i wrote an installment in @trappednightingale's strickpage bite 'verse, and apparently i wanted to write a little follow-up. this is not 'verse canon, haha, it's just me dabbling again because i had such a fun time with the strickpage and junglecorpse dynamics! 💚)

Backstage, activity is everywhere. The din is the sort of thing that, when he focuses too hard, ends up incredibly overwhelming, but when Adam sinks down into the bond, things settle; his heart slows, matching up between their ribs. He’s got the echo of Swerve’s blood pumping in his ears, and the rhythm offers some peace in the commotion. Either Swerve wants the same bit of stability or he’s picked up on how Adam’s reacting, because he ends up hovering nearby for a while—not necessarily long enough to spark any suspicion, but there. He crosses his arms over his chest and waits, a few feet away, watching the monitor with Adam.

“They can’t do anything to you,” Swerve murmurs; he’s gotten his finger on the pulse, the apex where all the apprehension is rippling from. Adam’s been avoiding the Bucks for two glaring reasons now, and the longer he stretches the rift between them, the worse it’ll eventually be. They already know too much. He’s already given them too much.

“They can try,” Adam replies in kind, without taking his gaze off the monitor. The next match is starting. It’s off-putting to watch Jack on there now, given… well, everything. It’s the first time Adam’s had to watch the guy between the ropes since all that went down, and he’s jumped before he even reaches the apron, which isn’t great, but also seems pretty standard at this point.

Adam doesn’t actually think anything of it until the heart beat in his ears jumps, quick and erratic. “Shit,” Swerve hisses. “Shit. Where’s Darby?”

“How would I know where—” Ow. Adam winces when Jack takes a lariat that knocks him straight onto the floor, ass over elbows. That one had to hurt. And Swerve doesn’t even bother answering, just takes off. Adam’s not seen him move that fast since they were at each other’s throats, so it has to be bad.

He’s a few steps behind, stumbling through the backstage to the other side, the other set of monitors, and it’s a good thing that Swerve seemed to know where to go. As Adam’s heels skid on the cement, he catches sight of a blur of shadow that Swerve throws himself in front of. For anyone else, it would probably be dangerous, but if Swerve hadn’t slid in there, Darby would have made it straight outta the tunnels and into the cameras.

He’s snarling, a mass of flailing limbs as he smacks at Swerve’s arms, torso, back—anything he can reach as Swerve hauls him backwards between a few of the dark curtains set up to keep the staff out of sight. And Adam’s sort of just watching, uselessly, before Swerve snaps, “Adam!”

Right. Adam gets in, grabs for one of Darby’s wildly clawed hands, and heaves him back with all the strength he’s got. For a small guy, Darby’s got way more muscle than he should, although it’s probably all supernatural; he’s fucking steaming, wisps of shadows coiling off of his skin as he blinks in and out of existence. His eyes are black, mouth pulled tight and wide in fury.

“What the hell?” Adam asks, but he’s pretty sure he understands. He glances back at the monitor while trying to shove his shoulder into Darby’s waving arms and catches one of the guy’s knees in his gut for his trouble. Jack’s getting the ever-loving shit beat out of him on the screen.

“Let me go,” Darby growls, and it’s so low. It’s so fucking low, thrumming with a hundred things that ought to set Adam’s nerves alight. Darby is dangerous right now. Swerve flails around to get his hand on Darby’s face, probably to keep him quiet, and Darby’s teeth come down hard on the webbing between Swerve’s index finger and thumb. “Let me go!”

“Fuck off,” Swerve says, pinched. Adam can feel the blossom of pain through the bond. “You should have figured this would happen, you son of a bitch, you’ve never done this before.”

Jack takes a chop that knocks him sideways, and Darby howls. He kicks out with one leg that goes positively dark, nothing, just a cloud of smoke that could probably run right through someone not already living with one foot in the grave like they are. Or, rather, like Adam is; Swerve’s dancing over the top of the cemetery plots, untouchable.

Adam risks a glance at the monitor again. The camera is close enough to Jack’s face to catch a decent amount of his expression, and he looks surprised. He looks almost shell-shocked, and the pause allows an easy opening to be exploited. Shit, he’s gotta be feeling this on the other side, right? Darby’s a feral beast they’re trying to keep in the corner, and Jack’s getting all the twinges of that as the ribbons cord around his wrists.

“Darby!” Swerve says, with force. Darby just roars at him, snapping his teeth with enough force to take Swerve’s finger clean off.

But Adam keeps his eyes on the screen. Jack’s on the mats, about to get pinned, and something happens—he goes blurry. He goes shadow-y, the same way that Darby is as he writhes and fights their hold. It’s so quick Adam could write it off as a trick of the light or a bad connection, except that he knows better.

“He’s bleeding through,” Swerve says, correctly interpreting Adam’s line of thought. The boon ends up getting Jack up and over and quite suddenly in a position to win; he does. That snare trap is just as awful as it always was, affording him a tap out.

If Adam was hoping Darby would stop his manic attempts to slice their heads off, he was wrong. Darby pulls hard enough that Adam almost loses his grip, getting a spray of furious spittle along the back of his hand. “God, what the hell?”

“Tamp it down, you piece of shit,” Swerve hisses, and Darby just roars at him, an echo rattling through Adam’s ribs. “Do you want everyone to find—?”

“Darby!” Jack’s barreling in through the curtains to them; must’ve followed the threads connecting them straight in. His skin is slick with salt and his hair’s out, one curl stuck to the side of his neck. “What are you doing?”

Swerve lets go of Darby’s arm, so Adam does the same, and at least Darby doesn’t vault out into the ring to try and extract vengeance. He just stumbles a few feet back, a tight circle, while his hands tear at the bits of hair he’s actually got on his head. “Fuck,” he says, and it’s full of rage. His fingernails claw at his scalp. “Fuck.”

Jack looks to Swerve, incredulous. “Was he trying to—?”

“I can’t fucking help it,” Darby growls. “It’s instinct.”

“You can’t do this every damn time Jack has a match,” Swerve says, and he’s right. “What do you think you’re gonna do out there, huh? You gonna march in and—”

“I’m gonna rip his fucking head off,” Darby interrupts. His voice has gone… wrong. His whole form has gone wrong, warbling at the edges. He’s shadow where he ought to be solid, outlines wavering. He’s almost not solid at all, and the force it wells up around him like fingers sinking into the fabric of reality and twisting, and Adam knows Darby probably can’t hurt him that badly, given what Adam is, but he still takes a step backwards. Just like Darby had said: instinct.

Jack is fueled by something else, because he steps forward. He’s the one who would be flayed into tendrils the quickest, and he just reaches for Darby’s face like he’s got no fear at all. His hands curl around Darby’s head. “Darby.”

Darby stops, abruptly—mouth parted and eyes impossibly dark still when he turns his chin up. The shadows gathering around his shoulders pause.

“I’m fine,” Jack tells him. “Look at me; I’m fine.”

Darby inhales once, positively ragged, and then Jack kisses him. That’s all it takes, apparently. The atmosphere that had gone charged and sparking around them clears with a pop that sends goosebumps across Adam’s skin. And, okay, that’s nice and all, but after a few moments tick by, Adam thinks they should probably stop kissing, because they’re still backstage, and more importantly, the Bucks still don’t know about this.

They don’t. Adam can see Jack’s tongue sweep between Darby’s lips before he groans and slides his eyes up to the ceiling. “Okay, guys, stop.”

They do, but Darby’s expression when he swivels his head over is unimpressed. “What do you care, you’ve literally watched us fu—”

“Could we not broadcast this?” Adam stage-whispers. “We are backstage.”

“Get control of yourself,” Swerve warns. “I’m not plannin’ on holding you together forever, and next time? You’re on your own.”

Darby shakes his head. He hasn’t let go of Jack’s arms yet, fingers clamped around Jack’s skin. “How do you do it? God. It’s fucking overwhelming as shit. I thought I was gonna tear my own flesh off.”

“Darby, this is my job,” Jack says. “I do this. I’m gonna go fight people.”

“I wanted to slice him open like a can of fucking sardines,” Darby growls, rumbling. “I was gonna fucking kill ‘im.”

“Yeah, no killing people in the company.” Swerve sighs. “Jesus. Work this out, or be elsewhere, ‘cause this ain’t gonna end well for anyone.”

Well, it might end well for Jack, who’s sort of just beaming at Darby as though hearing that the guy wanted to violently rend his opponent limb from limb just for hurting him is maddeningly romantic, and maybe it kinda is. Adam wishes he didn’t get that. So if anyone is gonna have a good night tonight, Jack apparently is.

Which Adam also wishes he didn’t get. This is a great deal more awkward than he’d ever anticipated.

Jack presses their foreheads together, and Darby’s eyes flutter closed. “I gotta hit the shower,” Jack murmurs. “Need some energy?”

“Need you,” Darby responds in kind, hands trailing up to Jack’s shoulders.

“Okay,” Adam says, because he needs to be somewhere else now. “Just… keep it quiet, kids.”

“Sure.” Swerve scoffs. “That’ll happen.”

When Jack turns to leave, he gives Adam a knowing look. Adam shoos him away with one hand, rolling his eyes. But they do eventually leave, and Adam decides not to worry about people seeing them together at this point. He’s got bigger problems.

“Think Darby’ll be okay?” he asks, curious.

Swerve shrugs. “Maybe. He’s never had a bond before. Think it came up and clobbered him when it went all loud with pain, triggered a full instinctive response.” He swipes at his bottom lip with his thumb. “Least he knows it’ll happen now. I just hope he’s prepared next time.”

“Yeah,” Adam says, because having a feral wraith on their hands isn’t gonna do anyone any good, and he can’t think of a better way to get on Matt’s radar. “Me, too.”

[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.

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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. 

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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.