#last time i made a plush it was 2017

[lordrandreaming]

When you go manic at 12am and start making a small plush (by 4:00am he was done)

[cherrycheridarling]

cherry | h.s.

harry styles x famous!reader

warnings: sad? it's a rollercoaster

summary: how 'cherry' came to be

wc: 2.5k

a/n: can be read w/ baby or on its own

are we rlly surprised abt this? look at my user;)

'Don't you call him baby.'

Harry sat on his plush couch, telly on volume 11 as interviews from The Emmys went live.

"Here we have Y/N Y/L/N! Looking as gorgeous as ever! How are you?" the man asked as he kissed both of your cheeks.

Harry had to agree with the man. You were a stunning picture in a skintight iridescent gown that somehow left little and just enough to the imagination at the same time. The dainty silver accents adorning your ears and wrists, chest bare with a slight shimmer of something that wasn't sweat or glitter, but just pure radiance in Harry's eyes.

You adjusted your stance before answering, "Good, good. And yourself?"

"Fantastic! I hear you're nominated for three awards tonight! Congratulations! How do you feel about all of that?" Harry wasn't surprised by your achievements seeing as he kept his tabs on you ever since the breakup.

You nodded with a timid smile, "I am, yes. It's all a little nerve wracking if I'm being honest with you."

The man grinned before it looked like his attention had been stolen by someone else, "Oh look, there we have your knight in shining armour!"

The camera panned to Tom Holland walking in your direction. Harry forced himself to watch as Tom came to stand beside you and kissed your cheek with an arm around your waist. Even with the microphone being unable to pick up your voices, your small interaction could be read off your lips.

"Hello, darling." Tom's lips moved as he winked.

"Hi, baby." your smile was warm as you spoke.

Harry abruptly turned off his telly at that moment. Memories of that name being used to address him flooded his brain. He threw his head back against the cushions and let the sting wash over him. It'd been a little less than a year since you guys called it quits, but the wounds still bled.

'We're not talking lately.'

"Do you remember that promise we made?" you asked as Harry rested his forehead against your knees while your fingers ran through his hair.

You felt him nod as a tear rolled down your cheek for the hundredth time. "We'd always stay friends and support each other even if we don't last." he replied from below you on his knees while you were sat on the couch.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Can I adjust that promise?"

His movements seize the second the question left your lips. He lifted his head and met your glossy gaze with an equally bloodshot one.

"What do you mean?" his voice quivered in a way that made your heart shatter.

You slid your thumb along his cheekbone, "We need time apart to move on, ange. No communication while we deal with this. We can still support each other and love each other, but we need space in order to let each other go. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry pondered on it for a moment before slightly nodding, "I guess so."

Neither of you said a word after that, just continuing to hold each other until the morning light came in and reminded you that everything still moves on even if you haven't.

'Don't you call him what you used to call me.'

July 23rd 2017:

"Baby, can you grab my purse for me, please?" you semi-shouted from the bottom of the stairs in your home.

Not a minute later, Harry came waltzing down towards you, "I wasn't sure which one you wanted today, so I took it upon myself to choose this one." he held up the Prada shoulder purse with a proud smile.

October 17th 2017:

"No." you deadpanned, but at his immediate frown you continued "Baby, I'm not dressing up as a socket so you can be the plug." you laughed incredulously at his suggestion.

Harry threw his hands in the air, "Come on! That would be the best costume ever!"

December 25th 2017:

"Happy Christmas, baby." you smiled at the man on your phone screen.

His lips turned down into a frown that somehow still looked like a smile, "Happy Christmas, darling. Wish we were together today."

January 1st 2018:

"Happy new year!" Harry screamed along with the room before turning to his love, "No one else I'd rather enter the year with." he smiled softly at you before meeting your lips with a kiss.

Confetti fell around you, champagne broke through the cheers with a 'pop' and yet, to you, it was silent, and there was no one there but him.

You broke apart still grinning, "Happy new year, baby."

'I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best. I'm selfish so I'm hating it.'

"And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to...!" Kevin Hart unfolded the envelope and immediately broke into a wide grin, "Y/N Y/L/N!"

The applause was immediate and deafening. You barely registered the first syllable of your name being called as everyone around you began to congratulate you and shower you with hugs.

You slowly made your way to the stage, being careful to not trip. You greeted Kevin with a hug as he handed you the award and your hands shook. As you stood in front of the mic, your mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"I-I- what?" you finally managed to sputter out as everyone chuckled.

You managed to get your wits about you and began to give out your thanks, while failing to notice the man in the audience who was holding back tears for you.

Jeff leaned over to Harry, "I know this is tough, but there will be cameras on you. Be careful of your expressions." he whispered as Harry momentarily shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Harry managed to plaster on a faux smile that would fool anyone else except you. He was ashamed of himself; he should be happy for you, he should've been on his feet cheering for you. But he couldn't. He refused to do that from 12 rows away when he should've been sat beside you. The smile on your face, the glow in your skin. All of it was something he hadn't seen since you were together and seeing it now only brought pain and sorrow to him.

He wished he had stayed home, but Jeff had convinced him that moping around in his home was only fuelling the rumours surrounding your break up, so he watched as you took your seat again and only when the next category was being announced did he excuse himself to the washroom and let the tears flow.

'I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress. Take it as a compliment.'

"Darling!" Harry's voice came booming from your temporarily shared home.

You sat on the couch in the living room and threw your head back, "Yes?!"

"Where's your striped jumper?!" he replied from your walk in closet.

You chose not to reply and instead left your seat to see what chaos he had caused. Upon entering your closet, there were piles of clothes on the floor and shoes tossed in every direction.

You chuckled, "What is going on?"

Harry's head snapped towards you, "I have an interview in 30 minutes and I need that jumper. Please, darling, help." he pouted at you.

You laughed a little more before walking out of the closet and pulling the sweater from a chair next to your bed. You cleared your throat while dangling the sweater from your finger and smirked, "Really should wear your glasses more often."

He covered his face with his hands as he realized he made a mess for no reason. As he took the jumper from your hands with a kiss to your lips and a thank you, you spoke again with a smile, "And get your own clothes."

"Why do that when I have you?" he grinned, "And don't touch any of the mess. I will clean it when I get back." his tone was serious but you struggled to hold in your laugh.

"I'll ju-"

"-No. Pinky promise you won't clean any of it." he held out his pinky with a raised brow.

You rolled your eyes before locking your finger with his. "Fine." the metal of the ruby ring on his finger that used to be yours was cold on your skin

He smiled as he kissed the place where your fingers interlocked and dashed out of the room with one last warning, "You pinky promised! No breaking it!"

"I, I just miss. I just miss your accent and your friends."

"Okay, Your Majesty." Harry mocked your RP accent for the thousandth time as you sat at Beachwood Cafe with Mitch, Sarah, Hazel and Max.

You gasped, "Would you stop that?! I do not sound like the Queen."

He was about to argue before Mitch chimed in, "Sorry, Y/L/N, but you kind of do." he giggled as he spoke.

Your jaw dropped as Harry started to laugh, "This is so unfair. I introduced you guys! You were my friends first! You're supposed to be on my side!"

They all started laughing together at your outburst as you rolled your eyes with a small smile.

"Did you know I still talk to them?"

Hazel was escorted to Harry's dressing room before his show in Vancouver while Max was in charge of finding parking.

Since it was her's and Max's hometown, Harry offered them tickets and backstage entry. It took a lot of debating with himself before he sent the text to Hazel, but his reasoning ultimately came down to not wanting to lose two friendships due to one relationship.

She took a moment to pause before knocking, and sighed a little when Harry looked up through the mirror with red, glassy eyes.

"What's going on, H?" she spoke softly as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Harry fully turned his chair around and felt his shoulders deflate, "Just miss her." he rolled his lips in between his teeth as a few tears managed to escape.

Hazel's heart fractured a bit in that moment as her phone started buzzing in her pocket with a call from you, "It's Y/N. Give me a minu-"

"-No. Please. I won't say anything. Can you put it on speaker?" he begged and although Hazel knew it was a bad idea she sighed before answering your call and following his request.

"Hey, Y/N/N!"

"Hi, are you at the show?" your voice ran through the room and Harry subconsciously leaned towards to the phone as if it would bring him closer to you.

Hazel suppressed a sigh from watching Harry before replying, "Yeah! It was really nice of him to invite us. What are you up to?"

"About to catch a flight to LA. Just wanted to make sure you got there safe." you laughed lightly through your lie and Harry's eyes automatically shut, trying to savour the sweet sound.

Hazel could hear your lie in your voice, but chose not to address it, "Yeah, Max is just finding parking right now. Why are you going to LA?"

Harry fought the urge to answer her question, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to know the answer.

You sighed slightly, "House hunting. Can't stay at Harry's anymore, so time to find my own place there."

Hazel nodded, forgetting that you couldn't see her before replying, "Oh. I see. Have you talked to H at all?"

Harry's head snapped up at his name being brought into the conversation.

"No, it's best if I don't." a mans voice was heard in the background before you spoke again, "Well, we're about to take off now. If you see him, wish him luck for me, will you?" your sadness was evident throughout your words.

Harry buried his head in his hands again as more tears escaped while Hazel replied, "Of course. Have a safe flight, Y/N/N. Love you, miss you."

"Thanks, love you and miss you too. Bye!" you blew a kiss into the phone before the dial tone was heard.

And for a moment, with his eyes shut, Harry allowed himself to imagine that those words were meant for his ears only.

"Does he take you walking 'round his parents gallery?"

"Hey, Haz," Tyler spoke up from the silence of the recording studio. They had just finished a long session and the rest of the team had already departed for the night, leaving Harry, Sammy and Tyler. "There's a new gallery opening on Saturday. Only there for a few nights. You wanna come with me and Sammy?"

Harry slowly turned in the spinning chair, "Sure. Whose gallery?" he bit into an apple as he finished speaking.

"Nikki Holland? Don't know who she is, but she's got some sick photos on Instagram." Tyler shrugged not noticing how Harry nearly choked on his fruit.

"Holland? As in Tom Holland's mum? Tom Holland as in Y/N's boyfriend, Tom Holland?" Sammy's eyes widened before he pulled out his own phone and went to Tom's instagram page. And sure enough, there was a post and a story of him promoting his mum's new gallery opening. "Just answered my own question." he rolled his lips between his teeth before chancing a glance at Harry.

Harry stared blankly at the floor before clearing his throat, "Probably not the best idea for me to show up there." he paused at their somber expressions, "Honestly, it's fine." he laughed lightly.

"Nah, we won't go either. Probably start rumours if we-"

"-Wait." Harry abruptly announced before reaching for the acoustic guitar on his left.

Tyler and Sammy shared a concerned expression with one another while Harry nervously fumbled with the strings of the instrument.

"Let me just- I just need to-" he struggled to find the right words to say, but there was no need.

Tyler shook his head and put his phone down, "Let's write it."

'Coucou!'

"Tu dors?" you frowned when your friend answered your call with a groggy voice.

She laughed lightly through the phone, "Oui. J'étais sur le point d'être."

"Oh, j'suis désolée."

She chuckled, "Ne t'en fais pas. Que s'est-il passé? A-t-il fait une demande en mariage?"

You sighed with a smile, thinking back on the day you spent with the lovely man behind you, "Bah non-"

"Je peux entendre le sourire effrayant dans ta voix. Que s'est-il passé?" she cut you off while mocking you.

You laughed loudly, "Nan, c'est pas important."

"Qu'avez-vous fait alors? Êtes-vous allé à la plage?"

You turned to look at Harry as he played a soft melody on a guitar. His eyes looked up to meet yours and he offered you a small grin that you returned, "Ouais, on a été à la plage, et maintenant on—"

She cut you off again with a loud laugh, "Allons prendre un verre et discuter. J'ai besoin de voir le sourire effrayant en personne."

You couldn't even deny her accusation. You were at the happiest you could be.

'Parfait! Allez!'

[greentrickster]

So something good that started in my life last December was that I stumbled into a bit of luck and now have a deal with a nearby geek culture shop to sell plush mages I make. This was extremely fortuitous, because I created the design and concept back in 2017, had made about ten before forcing myself to stop, and, other than gifting one to a friend, still had them all, and was planning to find a holiday donation bin for a charity that accepted handmade stuff, because I was tired of them taking up space in my room. Like literally the only reason I still had them was because life was hectic and I kept forgetting to go check for where any local donation bins were.

This is very exciting, the owner's super nice and helped me set some stuff up so I'm selling on consignment, which means I only get paid when someone actually buys one, but I get a bigger cut of the money when they do.

My dudes, I have an income again.

It's teeny-weeny and irregular, but I have one, and, almost more importantly, a bunch of them sold during and right after the holiday rush, so I get to make more, and it's giving me something to actually do besides working on my mental issues and trying to fill my time while I gain the mental health and stability to get, you know. An actual job. I'm currently making a few more to put in the store, then I'm going to focus on making extra stock to have available for when the local anime convention (and it's stale, stale vendor's hall) arrives this spring.

Not only that, it means that I can make as many of these things as I want for now! And while it takes about a day to make one mage, I'm flexing hard on my status as a professional ADHD haver by having three or four on the go at once, but in different stages of completion. So if I feel like sewing I can one on this one, but if I want to do some pinning I can work on that one, and the third one's ready to finish stuffing and assembling whenever I feel like it, now I want to take a break to watch anime, oooo~ sewing mood again-!

Like, this is in no way I can turn this into an actual career, just because, like I said, it takes about a day to make one from scratch, going at a pace that's both productive and physically healthy for me and also, given that they're about twenty inches tall, made of primarily minky fabric, and being done by hand, that means that I am selling them for nowhere near what they're worth, because people wouldn't be willing to pay that much. Like, the minimum wage where I currently live is (a ridiculous) $7.50 an hour. If I made one of these guys in six hours, that would mean they'd need to cost $45 just to cover my time, never mind materials and the fact that this is skilled labour, and that is not the price on the tag, let alone my cut. They look deceptively simple for all the tricks and techniques that go into one (never mind the fact that minky is expensive fabric, the craft safety eyes I use are special-ordered and very good quality, and, oh yes, these little fellows are machine washable). I literally cannot make a livelihood doing this.

But, like I also said, it's giving me something creative to do that isn't just more reading, writing, and gaming. I love doing all those things, but this is a kind of physical activity that I've needed in my life, and making something physical is so different than writing, with the wonderful bonus that minky fabric is one of my favorite textures! As long as I'm strategic about my acquisition of materials, I'm not going to be losing money on this, and while it's something I think is going to end up paying dividends more in my mental health than in my wallet, I will be earning money for this. I'm getting paid to make plushies to my heart's content (or until I run out of materials for the moment) while watching anime/youtube and working on my mental health, and, for now, that's not only enough, it feels really good!

[blazehedgehog]

Was there much merchandise for Sonic in the toy section when you were a kid?

Barely any. Until 2017, the only Sonic merchandise I can ever remember seeing was:

These Sonic and Tails plushes. They're pretty "big", which is a definition I use to mean they are bigger than, say, the average claw machine plush. We'll say about a foot tall, maybe a bit bigger. I have both, packed away in a box somewhere.

The Sonic 3 McDonalds toys, obviously. I had Sonic, Tails and Knuckles but I think I ended up getting Robotnik off Ebay at some point in the mid-2000's.

This Sonic gumball toy. Basically the closest thing we ever got to a proper Sonic action figure. Sonic's quills on the back of his head comes off, which is where the candy was kept. The whole figure is hard plastic, but the nose is soft rubber, which has a habit of getting torn off (or even just rotting away, since its getting old enough). Mine still has his nose.

And honestly... that was it. There was a big gap from 1993/1994 all the way until the Resaurus and Toy Island Sonic Adventure figures in 1999/2000. By then I was starting high school, meaning my "kid status" was rapidly evaporating.

(I had Sonic from Resaurus and Eggman from Toy Island).

I think right around that time, Denny's, of all people, had small Sonic Underground plushes.

I believe my girlfriend at the time got me Sonic and my brother ended up getting me Knuckles.

Then, for seventeen years, these were the last Sonic toys I ever saw. Now, there were Sonic toys out there -- I believe in the early 2010's there were RC cars based on the Sega All-Stars Racing games, and there were apparently Sonic Generations figures in 2011. No store I visited ever stocked them. They may as well have not existed.

When Sega launched Sonic Boom in 2014, they made a deal with TOMY to create Sonic Boom toys. It was a big deal. Part of the cross-media machine Sega was cooking up. Problem was, they were exclusive to Toys 'R' Us. There wasn't any Toys 'R' Us where I lived -- I had to travel two towns over to find one. So again, I never saw any.

It wasn't until 2017, when we moved from Colorado to Nevada, and we stopped in at the Reno Toys 'R' Us that I ended up seeing Sonic Boom merch for the first time. They were all shoved off on an endcap like they were clearance.

I ended up buying a set of 25th Anniversary toys there.

A better picture of them out of the box with the Eggman and Mecha Sonic figures friends bought me a year and a half ago (they're almost the correct scale to each other!):

Toys 'R' Us shut down in America early the next year (2018) and TOMY's exclusivity deal with them didn't matter anymore. That felt like it threw open the flood gates and Sonic merch is everywhere now.

Edit: while digging for the final photo, I happened to find this, which I took in 2019 or so, showing my Sonic Gumball toy, plus the Knuckles and Robotnik McDonalds toys sitting next to some Mario Party 2 pencil toppers I got out of a capsule machine in 2007.

[avengerchuck]

I want to get into teddy ruxpin but I have a few questions! 1. working teddy ruxpin plushies seem very rare, did you get yours working or did you repair him somehow? 2. does the plush take more cadettes than just teddy ruxpin ones? sorry if these are stupid questions!!

I’ll attempt to answer both of these at the same time! and remember that there are no stupid questions!! Only the occasional Mean People who aren’t worth your time… anyways. There are five versions of Teddy Ruxpin, since he’s been re-released over the years.

Worlds of Wonder - 1985 - runs on cassettes

Small WoW/Playskool - 1987/1990 - runs on these strange micro cartridges more similar to 8 tracks

YES Entertainment - 1998 - micro carts as well

Backpack Toys - 2006 - Back to regular cassette tapes

Wicked Cool Toys - 2017 - completely digital, requires an app

I would keep these on hand for reference, just because I see newer teddies sold as cassette-takers a lot, and obviously a buyer looking to play their Worlds of Wonder tapes is going to be disappointed when a Playskool arrives. That being said! The teddies that run on cassettes (Worlds of Wonder and Backpack Toys) can totally play normal non-bear tapes. He’s a completely functional tape deck, just won’t animate to The Beach Boys or what have you, since normal cassettes contain an audio track but no talker data. As for your second question! I own three talkers. My 2017 came working in perfect condition, and my 1990 playskool has audio but no facial movement. My 1985 worlds of wonder came with a working tape deck and mouth, and I repaired his eyes myself.

One last thing. I salute you if anyone read this far! I kinda made a mountain out of an anthill here, whoops… I know A Lot about Teddy Ruxpin

[spongiewonderland]

The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie: Plush Edition, 2017.

Playlist by NikoProductions

(subject to change)

A fan-made recreation of the first Spongebob movie, which entirely involves the use of SpongeBob plushies.

The production as a whole took 8 years, counting on and off pre-production lasted from 2009 to 2015.

TIMELINE

2009: I wanted to recreate the first SpongeBob movie entirely with LEGOs but I didn't due to creative issues with some characters.

2013: Began re-watching the film on DVD after the disc was recovered by my father and mailed it back to me from North Carolina.

2014-2015: Used Pokemon plushies to act out the film as it played, a majority of the performances was during Nickelodeon broadcasting the film.

2015: Collected several SpongeBob plushies throughout the year.

2016: The project was announced January. Filming began from my basement as a result of boredom of being stuck inside following a snowstorm. Trailers appeared throughout the year. Release dates were originally summer 2016 and late 2016, but was delayed a few times because of these reasons:

Seasonal changes that were required for some scenes

Editing softwares I've used over production crashed a few times until I was able to complete with Roxio Video Lab

I was completing my junior year of high school and starred in some school plays

2016-2017: Filming and editing spans 17 months.

2017: The SpongeBob SquarePants Movie: Plush Edition finally premieres on YouTube & Google Drive Mon. June 26

[moonblossom-bunny]

This will be part one of the last addition to the reblogs. I have some other Oswald items still but they aren't that special.

Let start with the tiny beans!

3 Oswald tsums and 2 ortensias. I am too tired to look up when they were released. (I swear half the time putting this together is trying to find out release years. )

Big 'ol pile plushies!!!

On the left we have the easter release of 2017.

Ortensia plush, releases in 2016.

Oswald with the banjo - Disney 100- 2023

Big tsum tsum Oswald - Disney Store -2016

Little Oswald Plush - Disney Store - (?)

Bigger Oswald Plush - Disney Store - (2011)

Biggest Oswald Plush, bottom right - Disney store '(2023)

And one honorable mention to the Ortensis Plush I made out of an Oswald Plush, from the time she had zero merch.

A few of the more random items I have.

Going in order.

. Disney cardclub Oswald paperweight.

.Shanghai Disney Oswald watch - (2016)

.Oswald mini van toy @badgerhuan gifted me. (Yes I still have this Roch and I'll never throw this out.)- (2015)

Oswald zodiac phone charm. - can't find anything about this other than it's a Japan product again.

Postcard version of an Oswald an Oswald print once sold at the artist alley.

Oswald themed stationairy - (?) Also one of the few things featuring Fanny as well as Ortensia next to Oswald.

Alright. As promised and voted for, this is the first batch of Oswald/Ortensia merch I have in my collection atm.

To not clog the tag, I will reblog with additions the more I clean my display case out.

The first batch is also under the line break.

I figured I'd start simple.

I've already showed the reorganisation of my Oswald pins a while back.

But there are pins I have which either belong to a set or are too heavy to stay on the board or are in their own packaging.

The resin on these have yellowed a bit, (idk why because I keep the box closed and out of sunlight) but they included Oswald in this little playing card themed set.

These where sold in Japan. Don't know what year though.

This set was released in honor of Oswald's 90th (2017) and only during D23 of that year. They were sold seperately too but the set came in this neat little filmreal display!

An portrait themed poster pin, complete with easel as stamd. This one is pretty hefty so ussually displayed on the stand.(2013)

These are special to me because I actually attended Fandaze in Disneyland Paris back in 2018, because Ortensia was going to make her park debut there.

It was amazing! Not sure if the lifeblog survived the last time I purched this blog, but I still have videos and the merch from back then.

The latest addition! Mission to Mars Oswald by Eric Tan, but the pin version. Also a hefty boi but I love him!

Next up will be either bags or keychains. Maybe even both.

[lumosinlove]

On the first day of Winterfic, Hazel gave to you…tennis rivals!

Read all the days here.

It wasn’t raining in England for once, and the Wimbledon grass courts were so green that Remus wanted to roll in them next time he played, dirtying his traditionally white shirt and shorts. He looked over the grounds, eyes tensed a little in the rare sunshine, before a hand on his shoulder made him turn away from the Clubhouse window.

“Hey,” Remus said to James. James was young to be a coach, the two of them were barely different in age, really, but, forced into an early retirement, here he was at Remus’ side. Remus was thankful for him, endlessly. So much of this sport was traveling alone, and James said it made it feel like he was still playing for England, even if indirectly.

“Big party tonight,” James grinned as Remus groaned. “Come on, it’s the Clubhouse. Maybe you’ll meet Beyoncé.”

“I definitely do not need the pressure of meeting Beyoncé, thanks,” Remus replied, crossing his arms.

“What about your future king?”

Remus snorted. “Thanks, no. Not with matches beginning soon. I just want to focus, is that really too much to ask?”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.”

“Not if it works,” Remus shrugged. “Now, come on. We’ve got to go, I told Lily we’d practice together, remember?”

“Jesus,” James said lowly, running a hand through his hair. “Speaking of pressure.”

Remus snorted.

“How could anyone, anyone, focus with that red ponytail swinging about every which way?” James sighed. “Good God.”

“You’ve wanted to ask her out since, what, Spain, in 2017. Just do it.”

“Lupin,” James gasped, swinging an arm around his shoulders as they walked towards the stairs. "You are sponsored by adidas. Don’t let anyone hear you say what you just said.”

Remus patted his chest. “Earn your stripes, then.”

James’ laugh was familiar and loud, and it eased some of the tension in Remus’ chest.

~

The party was black tie and Remus always felt ridiculous in black tie. He didn’t recognize himself outside of trainers and a t-shirt these days, and had more or less backhanded the hair product James had nudged at him away.

James, at least, seemed to be at ease. He had brought Lily a glass of champagne twenty minutes ago, and she was actually laughing at his jokes. Remus turned away with a slow exhale, and found the very same clubhouse window again, floor to ceiling, looking over the lit up grounds. He walked forward until he was all but toeing the edge where glass met hardwood floor. He loved looking at the clean lines of the courts. They made him feel like, if he tried hard enough, he could be made up of clean lines, too.

“I’m sneaking up on you again,” said a voice from behind him, and Remus stilled.

He hated to admit it, but he’d listened to that voice do more interviews than he could count. He had his victory-rounds on America’s late night talk shows memorized from two years ago. Federer had taken Wimbledon last year, rather than either of them, and it had almost been a relief. They’d been able to see each other at the victory party on what could have been called an even playing field, had Sirius not had the collar of his shirt half undone and his dark curling hair falling into his face. No, Remus couldn’t call that fair. Nor the sweet taste of Sirius’ mouth, surprising Remus into responding, at the hotel pool much later into the night. Remus had needed to get away from the noise, sitting in his tux on one of the lounge chairs. He didn’t know how Sirius had found him, or what on earth had possessed Remus to take it further. God, they’d all but stumbled up to Sirius’ hotel room. It had been nearly a year ago today.

And now, if Remus turned around and Sirius Black was wearing that damn suit—

Sirius Black. In his dark suit and crisp white shirt, he looked like he belonged on a magazine cover where everything else came in shades of cream and grays, too. The type of his name, the promises of articles inside, a plush chair for him to sprawl his thick thighs across. A camera for him to give his smug fucking smile to.

“Well, you announced yourself,” Remus replied cooly, turning back towards the window. “Poorly done.”

“Not now,” Sirius laughed easily. He was holding a small bowl of strawberries and cream. “I meant in titles.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” Remus said wryly. “And I snuck up on you first.”

It was infuriating, really. They kept switching places. The media ate it up. The Battle of England, they called it. Remus would gain first overall, then Sirius, then Remus. They were neck-and-neck, and yet, they hadn’t been on opposite sides of the draw for years. Remus almost wished they would be. It was infuriating to constantly be bested by someone without even playing them. Instead, he tore through other opponents, although James always liked to point out that they were most certainly proxies.

“How’s the hip?” Sirius popped a berry into his mouth.

Remus scowled. “How’s the ankle?”

“Well, you didn’t answer me.”

Remus chewed on the inside of his lip. “It’s fine.”

Sirius didn’t say anything for a long moment. He took a step forward from Remus’ side, making Remus’ shoulders tense, and turned slowly on his heel, leaning back against one frame of the window. Remus let himself trace his eyes over the strong bend of his neck. He flushed when Sirius suddenly looked up, just his eyes, through his lashes. It made him look secret.

“Mine twinges a bit sometimes,” he said, and the shrugged.

“Okay,” Remus said, unsure.

“What?” Sirius said. “I’m being vulnerable.”

Remus huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t hurt yourself on my account.”

“Do you think it’s ever going to happen again?” Sirius asked, smug smirk still in place. “You and I?”

Remus felt himself flush deeper. “I…you mean playing a match?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Why, what’d you think I meant?”

The heat in his neck seemed to drain, and Remus rolled his eyes.

“What?” Sirius laughed.

“Stop,” Remus replied. “Really. What’s going on?”

“What do you want to be going on?”

“We don’t speak for five months and then you flirt with me?”

“Is that what I’m doing?”

Remus groaned. “God, you speak like you play. Misdirection all over the place”

Sirius smiled. “Well, I spoke before I every played, so really I play like I speak.”

“I knew your game before I knew your voice,” Remus fired back.

Sirius’ smile widened. “Fair.”

Remus closed his eyes, suddenly wishing to be anywhere but here. Because hotel rooms were lonely, training was lonely, and Sirius Black was looking at him like he knew it. He did know it. Remus thought it must be written over every part of him, prickling at the hairs along his arms, twisting in the turned down corners of his mouth.

“Evans looks like she’s thinking about kissing Potter tonight,” Sirius said, and then turned away from the room, standing shoulder to shoulder with Remus again.

“Finally,” Remus rasped out. Sirius was tall. His serve was wicked, but more than that, his shoulders were divine.

Remus waited for Sirius to say more. He waited for the jokes and teasing to keep flowing. When it didn’t come, though, Remus was left listening to Sirius breathe softly, poking around the rest of his strawberries. They were dying the tips of his fingers red.

“Do we hate each other?” Remus asked softly. “Or did the media just tell us to?”

The red-tipped fingers froze. The middle one had a slim silver ring on it. Remus didn’t know where it was from. He wanted to.

“I don’t hate anyone besides my mother,” Sirius replied, and Remus looked down. He knew there were rumors about that.

“I’m going for a walk,” Remus said. “Come with me.”

Remus tried to deny that he hid a smiled when Sirius followed him down to the green.

[causeiwanttoandican]

Robert Lacey excerpt

I fully expect them to say William was the one commenting about the baby’s skin color after this. Battle stations! Book excerpt

The Times

Prince William ‘split his household from Prince Harry after Meghan bullying claims’

June 07 2021, 7.00am BST

‘So, are you saying,” asked Oprah Winfrey, talking to Meghan and Harry in their famous interview of March 2021, “that there were hints of jealousy?”

She was inquiring about the Sussexes’s wildly successful tour of Australia and the South Pacific of late October 2018, and the couple shifted uncomfortably in their plush wicker chairs.

“Look,” replied Harry, “I just wish that we would all learn from the past.”

By bringing up “the past”, the prince was venturing into an area that was almost taboo. He was making a sensational comparison between his mother and his wife. Harry was suggesting that Meghan had demonstrated in Australia the same massive star quality as Diana and was now having to face the family envy that went along with that.

“It really changed,” he said, “after the Australia tour, after our South Pacific tour . . . it was . . . the first time that the family got to see how incredible she is at the job. And that brought back memories.”

Memories of what? Again Harry shied away from putting words to the almost unmentionable. But Oprah had prepared and polished this moment, like so many others in the interview, and she had a reference ready to prompt her prince’s revelation. The latest, fourth season of TV’s The Crown had depicted Charles and Diana’s 1983 tour of Australia, showing how Diana had been “bedazzling” in her ability “to connect with people”. Episode six had depicted how the crowds would groan when they realised that Charles, not Diana, was walking down their side of the street — hence the beginnings of the “jealousy” on the family’s part.

“So is that what you’re talking about?” asked Oprah. “It brought back memories of that?”

“Yeah,” Harry finally replied in a fashion that was both dismal and unmistakably aggressive.

What on earth had happened, viewers had to wonder, to the old and once-familiar happy side of Prince Harry?

When trying to define the moment that marked the decisive rift with his brother William — the break-up and actual separation of the joint household they had established together in 2009 — Harry would fix upon his triumphant return with Meghan from their Australian tour at the end of October 2018. But if asked the same question, William would have fixed on a more specific event: the explosive argument he had had with his brother earlier that month.

Both brothers agreed how bitterly they had clashed back in the early days over William’s attempt to slow Harry’s courtship of Meghan — “Don’t feel like you need to rush this . . . ” But both of them had subsequently moved on. Harry’s transparent contentment with Meghan had relaxed the tensions, give or take the odd row over bridesmaids’ dresses. The “no speaks” had eased just a little by the time “best man” William escorted his brother down the aisle in May 2018.

Then five months later came the conclusive and determining rupture — the division that has lasted to the present day — though here the brothers’ retelling of history diverged. As Harry explained it to Oprah, Meghan’s Australian tour success sowed the jealousies that caused feelings to “change”. According to this scenario, William and Kate resented the Diana-like popularity that was generated by Harry’s wife. William had a different recollection.

We now know that Princes William and Harry were no longer on speaking terms before the Sussexes set off for Australia. Feelings had already “changed”, as Harry put it, and drastically so. The brothers had parted on extremely poor terms, with the trouble centring on Meghan’s stringent treatment and alleged bullying of her staff.

Most Kensington Palace courtiers were noted for the comparatively long tenures of their comfortable and prestigious jobs. But it came to look as if employees could not wait to escape service with Harry and Meghan. Those who left formed themselves into an informal fraternity that they titled the “Sussex Survivors’ Club”. They had finally hit back, and their organising agent had been PR man Jason Knauf.

The joint communications secretary for Kensington Palace — who was still, at that date, working on behalf of both of the brothers and their wives — had become concerned by the numerous stories of mistreatment being brought to him by colleagues whom he knew well and trusted.

Texas-born and New Zealand-educated, Knauf, 34, was a popular character in Kensington Palace, widely noted for his friendliness and loyalty towards his colleagues. He had been considered a real “catch” when the brothers snared him from the Royal Bank of Scotland in 2015, and one of his concerns was that professional management practices should be more effectively enforced inside the traditional British palace. Knauf’s American sensibilities caused him to see the Meghan situation as raising principles of human resources management in the palace system that needed to be formally addressed.

Knauf’s first priority was to set down the facts, as he saw them, for the record: “I’m very concerned,” he emailed to William’s private secretary Simon Case, in a document he drafted in October 2018, “that the duchess was able to bully two PAs out of the household in the past year.”

Knauf described Meghan’s treatment of one aide as “totally unacceptable . . . the duchess seems intent”, he wrote, “on always having someone in her sights”. Specifying another staff member, Knauf alleged Meghan had been bullying her as well, “seeking to undermine her confidence”. His office had received “report after report”, he wrote, from people who had witnessed “unacceptable behaviour” by Meghan towards this member of staff.

“Meghan governed by fear,” claimed one courtier. “So many people said it. Nothing was ever good enough for her. [She] humiliated staff in meetings, [would] shout at them, [would] cut them off email chains — and then demand to know why they hadn’t done anything.”

As early as 2017, around the time of the couple’s engagement, according to a subsequent report in The Times, a senior aide had spoken to the couple about the difficulties caused by their treatment of staff. “It’s not my job to coddle people,” Meghan was said to have replied.

“Americans can be much more direct,” wrote the authors Omid Scobie and Carolyn Durand in defence of the duchess, “and that often doesn’t sit well in the much more refined institution of the monarchy.”

A Brit might have raised an eyebrow at Meghan’s alleged behaviour, then looked the other way. The Yank decided to act. Knauf was actually one of Meghan’s most senior advisers — her chief adviser, in fact, when it came to public relations. Earlier that year she had gone to Knauf for help when drafting the disputed letter of severance that she sent to her father. She valued his PR expertise.

Before that, Knauf had helped Harry to word the fierce anti-media statements that he had framed to try to protect Meghan from press harassment, both as his girlfriend and then as his fiancée. The PR man had taken considerable stick from some of his non-royal contacts who criticised him as being overprotective in fighting the newcomer’s corner. Like so many people in all the palaces, Knauf had started off on Meghan’s side.

But as the months went by the American’s feelings became more ambiguous, as numerous colleagues — women whom he greatly respected — continued to bring him stories of what they said they had suffered at Meghan’s hands.

“I can’t stop shaking,” one aide had told a colleague in anticipation of an encounter with Meghan. Another reported that the prospect of confrontation with the duchess had made her “feel sick”. “Emotional cruelty and manipulation”, were the words of a third, “which I guess could also be called bullying.”

The b-word featured prominently in the accounts of several, along with an even more sinister set of initials: PTSD. Post-traumatic stress disorder was a deeply serious condition to allege — flashbacks, nightmares and feelings of deep anxiety — but that was how one complainant said that they had felt.

Several people maintained they had been “humiliated” by the duchess, and that criticism extended to Harry as well.

“I overheard a conversation between Harry and one of his top aides,” recalled one Kensington Palace courtier. “Harry was screaming and screaming down the phone. Team Sussex was a really toxic environment. People shouting and screaming in each other’s faces.”

Shouting and screaming? PTSD? Making people feel sick? Prince William went ballistic when he heard the “dossier of distress” that Knauf had gathered. We do not know whether the communications secretary brought his allegations directly to his boss or submitted them via Simon Case. What we do know is that the prince was astonished and horrified. He was instantly furious at what he heard.

“I remember Christian Jones [William’s press secretary and later private secretary] explaining to me how the Cams [the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge] are paternalistic with their staff,” recalls one royal correspondent. “They copy the Queen in that respect with all her Christmas parties and Christmas presents to her people. They’re proud to treat their staff like family. They recognise that they don’t get paid loads of money, so they are just really nice to them. So this was a very deep clash of philosophies, with Meghan being used to a Hollywood service culture — getting exactly what she wanted whenever she wanted in that famous way that Harry said.”

William personally knew and liked all the individuals whom Knauf had named in his dossier. The prince regarded them as assets to his household — colleagues to be cherished and for whom he was responsible. Human beings. Like Knauf, the prince was appalled that his respected staff may have been put in this position.

For William, Knauf’s allegations also clarified something that the prince had long believed — that Meghan was fundamentally hostile towards the royal system, which she failed to understand as an outsider. William wondered if she had not wanted to leave from the very start — even dreaming, perhaps, that she could whisk Harry back with her to North America.

But Meghan’s lawyers and PR representatives said this was quite the wrong interpretation of their client’s thinking and behaviour in a statement that they issued to The Times early in March 2021. They denied all allegations of bullying as inaccurate and the product of what they described as a “smear campaign”. The duchess wished to fit in and be accepted, they insisted. She had left her life in North America to commit herself to her new role.

I have never met Jason Knauf. What you have just read is based upon the published accusations that Knauf set down on paper — refuted as “defamatory”, it must be stressed again, and “based on misleading and harmful information” in the view of the Duchess of Sussex’s lawyers. It also relies upon William’s personal account of these events to one of his friends who then spoke to this author.

The moment the prince heard the bullying allegations, he related to this friend, he got straight on the phone to talk to Harry — and when Harry flared up in furious defence of his wife, the elder brother persisted. Harry shut off his phone angrily, so William went to speak to him personally. The prince was horrified by what he had just been told about Meghan’s alleged behaviour, and he wanted to hear what Harry had to say.

The showdown between the two siblings was fierce and bitter. William’s pre-engagement questioning of Meghan’s suitability had been quite reasonable, in William’s opinion. His fraternal doubts had been provisional, based upon how the new recruit appeared to be. The elder brother did not really know Meghan in those early days.

But now William had seen enough of his sister-in-law to feel sure that, sadly, he did know her and that many of his reservations linked unhappily with what Knauf’s colleagues had alleged. William believed Meghan was following a plan — “agenda” was the word he used to his friend — and the accusations he had just heard were alarming. Kate, he said, had been wary of her from the start.

Meghan was undermining some precious principles of the monarchy, if she really was treating her staff in this way, and William was upset that she seemed to be stealing his beloved brother away from him. Later courtiers would coin a hashtag — #freeHarry. It was only half a joke.

“Meghan portrayed herself as the victim,” recalled one Kensington Palace staffer, “but she was the bully. People felt run over by her. They didn’t know how to handle this woman. They thought she was a complete narcissist and sociopath — basically unhinged. Which was why the pair of them were drawn to each other in the first place — both damaged goods.”

William felt deeply wounded. “Hurt” and “betrayed” were the two feelings that he described to his friend. The elder brother had always felt so protective. He had seen it as his job to look out for Harry but this was the moment the protection had to stop. At the end of the day the British crown and all it stood for with its ancient traditions, styles and values — the mission of the monarchy — had to matter more to William than his brother did.

Harry, for his part, was equally furious that William should give credence to the accusations against Meghan, and he was fiercely combative in his wife’s defence. Some sources maintain that in the heat of the argument Harry actually accused someone in the family of concepts that were “racist”. But it must be stressed that neither brother has ever confirmed that the hateful r-word was used face to face.

Only William and Harry can know what they said to each other and they have respectfully maintained their silence on that. But Harry made clear to the world in his interview with Oprah that he considered his family’s response to Meghan to have been essentially racist — using the heavily freighted code words “unconscious bias” to provide an intellectual framework for his analysis.

Where could the two brothers go after such painful and damning notions had been thrown into their debate?

We have reached the crux of the drama. What painfully unforgettable and surely unforgivable things have been said? These are not passing differences. They are two core sets of values in conflict — love versus duty — going to the very heart and deriving from the deepest beliefs and loyalties of each man. Two opposing identities butting heads. In the months following the tragic and not-obviously bridgeable rift of October 2018 between William and Harry, the younger brother solidified his belief that his family were suffering from “unconscious bias”.

William, for his part, felt just as strongly about Meghan and the need for her subversive “agenda” to be removed from the operations of the British monarchy, which she did not appear to understand or respect. He certainly wanted Meghan removed, for a start, from the hitherto harmonious joint household that he and his brother had operated together for the best part of a decade. William simply did not want her or Harry around any more.

When accounts of the rift started seeping out through the winter months that followed, it was generally assumed that the volatile Harry must have set the pace in the splitting up of the joint Kensington Palace household. He was the brother who visibly departed, stalking off to set up a new home in Windsor, with offices for himself and Meghan in Buckingham Palace.

But the reverse was the case. It was William who made the decisive move. Following his furious confrontation with his younger brother in the autumn of 2018, the prince instructed Simon Case to start the process of dividing their two households immediately. William wished to be separated from Meghan on a day-to-day basis — and that meant being separated from his brother as well.

“William,” says a friend, “threw Harry out.”

©Robert Lacey 2021 Extracted from Battle of Brothers: William, Harry and the Inside Story of a Family in Tumult by Robert Lacey, to be published by William Collins on June 24 at £9.99

[sambvcks]

redefined, b.b. x reader

summary: just because those ten words no longer wreak havoc on his mind does not mean they are gone. just redefined.

warnings: mentions of food, blood, gunshot wound

word count: 3.7k....whoops

author’s note: first standalone! i’m also itching to work on a sam story next. the last episode still lives in my mind rent free and this is a reworking of that which diverges from civil war and we get one big happy avenging family that aren’t dead :)

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox | join my taglist! ]

Longing

An Avenger.

The concept was still so foreign to Bucky, despite dozens of successful missions under his belt and a permanent residence in the tower. Still, every morning he sprung up in bed expecting to still be in some run-down apartment halfway across the world, on the run.

Instead, he would awake on a plush mattress that offered little back support. He would shuck on the first shirt his bleary eyes could see and pad into the hallway, the smell of fresh coffee overtaking his superhuman sense of smell. You would be perched at the kitchen counter, pouring over mission files stained with coffee rings that Tony would later complain about.

Steve and Sam would have already come through on their way to their morning run, the coffee pot running dangerously low. You’d already placed his favorite mug nearby, two packets of sugar emptied into the bottom. A routine.

Bucky didn’t think he’d ever have a routine again.

His hand would press against your shoulder in a familiar greeting as he passed, you’d grin up at him with sleepy eyes and a lazy smile before returning to your work. Your cereal sat forgotten beside you, the overly sweetened kid’s choice growing soggy.

It was a silent and comfortable interaction. Neither worked to fill the quiet or felt the need to. Even with Steve, there was always talking and planning and ‘what about this’. With you, it was so natural to just exist how he was in that moment. No excuses, no whispered apologies.

He pushed his back against the sink as he sipped at his coffee, eyes immediately settling on your distracted figure. Your pajamas were wrinkled, mouth formed into a perfect concentrated from as you hunched uncomfortably, hand scribbling furiously. He swallowed and decided you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, especially with your coffee breath and fingernails chewed to nubs.

He wanted so desperately to move across the kitchen and press himself perfectly against you, to push aside your paperwork and demand your sole attention. His hand clenched into a fist as he longed to feel your soft, round cheeks in his hands, how warm you would feel against the cool metal of his left and how you’d nuzzle closer still.

He hadn’t heard the dragging footsteps of Steve and Sam returning from their run and didn’t even notice them until they were settled at the doorway, watching him watch you.

“Morning.” Steve grinned, all knowing. Bucky cleared his throat and refocused on his mug.

“Morning.” Bucky replied with a look that said ‘don’t say anything’.

Rusted

Bucky learned that if you weren’t cooped up in your room or camped out on the kitchen island, you were tucked away in Tony’s garage. On slow days where it seemed everyone was off in their own little world, Bucky would know to find you under the hood of one of Tony’s vintage cars, each kept in pristine condition, but you claimed that ‘there’s always something to work on’.

Bucky was never a car guy. His family was too poor to even think of ever owning his own car. He didn’t even have his own license and technically couldn’t legally ride his bike either. He found out quickly that being an Avenger meant the term legal could be bent a bit. So, he wasn’t a car guy. But the sight of you with streaks of grease across your face and your raggedy workshop clothes would have him buying one just to see you work on it.

You were notoriously protective of your little hideaway, the music loud and the sound of metal ringing as you fixed and fiddled with every little thing. Steve nearly got a wrench to the face when he tried to distract you from Tony’s antique Chevy.

Bucky was different, though. He was always different.

He would sit himself on a tall stool positioned next to one of Tony’s many rolling tool chests. You’d call out a tool and he’d rifle through the collection until he found what he thought was the right one and only slightly tease him when he’d emerge with the wrong one. Typically, you’d spend these afternoons in silence, the thumping of the heavy base of whatever crazy metal album you picked the only soundtrack to your work.

Sometimes, though, you’d play gentle rock music. Bucky would ask questions on what you were doing, how you learned to do all of this, why you did it when Tony worked on these cars enough for the both of you.

You’d fish your rag from your pocket, concentrating on scrubbing the grease from under your fingernails as you answered.

“I like using my hands. I like fixing things. For every car that Tony has in this garage, there are hundreds just like it sitting in junkyards gathering cobwebs and rust.” You looked up at him from under eyelashes and Bucky knew you were speaking about much more than just hunks of metal. “They’re worthy of love and care.”

You were talking about him, too.

Seventeen

Bucky didn’t think this superhero business would have so many parties. There seemed to be a celebration for everything. Galas, fundraisers, full on parades whenever Tony happened to wake up in a good mood.

At least this one is a holiday, he thought to himself as he nursed his third beer of the hour. Not that it did anything other than keep his hands occupied.

The year was coming to a close, and the top floor of the Avengers Tower was decked in golden confetti and banners to ensure no one forgot. The music was obnoxiously loud, and the lyrics made little sense, but everyone seemed to be having a good time mingling and even venturing to the dance floor.

No matter how many times Sam tried to drag him in with an invisible rope, Bucky was not going to dance. Well. Maybe he would if you asked.

The party had been in full swing for hours now, with only ten minutes until the ball a few blocks up finally dropped and he could sneak away to his room without a teasing ‘bedtime already, old timer?’ from Nat.

Still, the party raged on and he eyed the glass door to the balcony. He downed the last of his beer, brushing past enthusiastic partygoers with his shoulders hunched forward in some attempt to minimize the space he took up in the room that only seemed to be getting smaller. He caught Steve’s eye on the way out and plastered on a smile in response to his disappointed look.

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding as soon as the glass door slid closed behind him. His eyes closed as he leaned back against it, the chill of the December New York air blew his hair in every direction.

“Fancy meeting you here.” You were sat in the far corner, so well hidden he hadn’t even noticed you, though he had been on the lookout for you all night. “Tired of the festivities?”

“And Tony’s music.” He grumbled as he fell into the seat beside you.

“Been waiting for you for the past thirty minutes. Honestly, you made it a lot longer than I could’ve in there.”

You were waiting for him. You wanted him to be there, with you, tucked away from everyone else’s prying eyes. He wanted that, too. Sometimes he wanted it so much it scared him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, doll. It’s not polite for a gentleman to make a girl wait.”

“Hmm, I think I’ll find it in myself to forgive you.” Your shoulder pressed against his, eyes focused on the smattering of buildings surrounding you. Identical parties were happening in each of them, you were sure. “Can you believe another year is gone?”

“I can’t believe I’m about to make it to 2017 and my back hasn’t given out yet.”

You laughed, loud and unabashedly in a way only Bucky could make you laugh. Head thrown back and eyes glittering from the city lights, Bucky wanted to spend every new year you would allow him to by your side, trying his best to make you laugh again.

“Well,” You stood to peer over the glass railing, Bucky close behind you. You could hear the drunken cries inside as the countdown begun. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me too.” Bucky offered his hand to you. You took it easily.

5, 4, 3…

He wanted nothing more than to pull you close, to finally press a kiss on the lips that had thrown teasing remarks at him during missions. To once and for all end this little dance you both loved so much. But you looked so perfect.

Bucky wasn’t ready to ruin that perfection with everything wrong with him quite yet.

“Happy 2017, Bucky.” You whispered as the fireworks started, but Bucky couldn’t pull his eyes from you.

“Happy 2017, doll.”

Daybreak

The mission had been long and grueling. The week-long stakeout turned into two and quickly turned into a month away. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a good night of sleep that wasn’t interrupted with Bucky’s hand on your shoulder, telling you it was your turn to keep watch.

It wasn’t a horrible mission, more of an exercise in patience and restraint than anything. Bucky’s stories kept you entertained enough, and he was a good partner. Which is why you were paired together more often than not.

Still, it was nice to finally collapse into your familiar bed, not even bothering to kick of shoes or take a much-needed shower. Your sleeping schedule was all out of whack and you tossed and turned, despite the exhaustion seeping through your bones.

After fifteen minutes, you finally huffed a sigh of defeat and stumbled back to your feet. You showered, which was a few good days overdue, and dressed in your largest, most comfortable pajamas.

You weren’t surprised to see Bucky up as well, sitting at the dining table with a mug of fresh coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep?” His foot kicked out the seat beside him as an invitation.

“Sleeps overrated, anyways.” You shrugged, slumping into the seat and pressing your face into the cool glass of the table.

“Sleep is good for you.” He insisted, reaching forward to brush aside the hair that had curtained over your face. “You deserve a good night’s rest.”

“So do you, Buck.”

He stayed silent for a while, just sipping at his coffee and stealing glances at you, face trained out the floor to ceiling windows. He really didn’t know what he deserved, anymore. Sure, he had made some semblance of peace with what the Winter Soldier had done with his body. He was better, that was certain.

Worthy of you and all your unwavering sweetness? He wasn’t so sure.

You idly chatted about nothing for hours, filling comfortable silence with talks of the mission and the food poisoning he had given you when he tried to make dinner two weeks in. You sat side by side until day broke the next morning, eyes squinting at the sun peeking over skyscrapers and finally finding the need to fall shut in rest.

“I guess I should say ‘good morning’ instead of ‘good night’.” You were the first to stand, shuffling towards the hallway that led to your bedroom.

“Good morning.” He answered as you padded away, deciding he would be just fine losing sleep every night if it meant he could watch the sunrise by your side.

Furnace

“Doesn’t Tony make enough money to keep this place at least habitable?” You grumbled as you fell into the couch beside Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

Bucky sat in his patent jeans and t-shirt, unphased by the temperature that practically had your teeth chattering. You were bundled in multiple layers, including one of the many sweatshirts he’d wear jogging on cold mornings and blankets you had stolen off his bed. Your glare from under your cocoon of warmth rivaled even his.

“I’m not a muscle-y super soldier-”

“You think I’m muscle-y?”

“-that runs so hot you’re basically a personal furnace.”

“Oh, so now I’m hot.”

“I would strangle you to death right now, but I’m about to lose my fingers to hypothermia.” You burrowed further into your smattering of blankets with a violent chill running down your spine. Bucky simply rolled his eyes and marked the spot in the book he had been reading before you stormed in.

“C’mere.”

He balled up a fistful of one of your blankets, tugging you even closer to him. You opened your arms to allow for direct contact, sighing contently as your face pressed into his shoulder and legs tangled with his. You sighed contently as you welcomed his warmth, shimmying as close as you could get.

“Better?”

“The best.”

Nine

“Do you ever think what your life would be like? If you’d gotten to go home?”

Even a year ago, this question would have turned Bucky into a brooding mess. He would have delved into every little moment he had missed, every plan that had been turned upside down when he fell from that train all those years ago. But he was better now, more contemplative. He wouldn’t drown in the idea of what could have been because he knows what it’s like to be on the other side.

“I like to think I would’ve gone to college.”

“Really?”

“You calling me dumb, doll?”

“No! You’re the smartest person I know. I’m just picturing you at college. Carrying textbooks and wooing all the dames.” You fell into him at the thought, a fake swoon overtaking your face.

“I’d be too busy studying for dames.”

“Studying what?”

“I always liked math. Maybe engineering or something. Wanted to be a teacher before the draft.” He shrugged like the information was no big deal, but to you it was everything.

“Professor Barnes. Kind of sexy.”

“Oh, shut up.” But his words held no malice. Instead, he was grinning that cheeky grin that pulled his cheeks into perfect rosy apples and his eyes crinkled in joy. “I wanted to have ten kids.”

“Ten?!”

“So we’d be a dozen. My own little army of mini-Buckys to take over the world. Couple sets of twins, maybe. Definitely as many girls as I could manage.”

Of course Bucky would be a girl-dad. Playing dress-up for fake tea parties and scaring off boys when they’d come ‘round for first dates. You could imagine how he’d learn how to take care of their hair and plait intricate braids when they asked. He would make breakfast for the whole bunch, kiss his wife goodbye before escorting them to the bus stop and taking off for a day of teaching classes. Bucky would be an amazing father.

An amazing husband, too.

“I think ten may be pushing it, Barnes.”

Bucky pictured it, too. A little more modern than maybe the image you conjured up. Teaching was replaced with small missions. The gaggle of kids were smaller, and he wouldn’t have to kiss his wife goodbye. You’d be in the car next to him, headed to the tower for your morning briefings together.

“I’ll settle for nine.”

Benign

If you were to ask any New Yorker what they think the Avengers do on Friday afternoons, they would probably say something like ‘kicking ass!’. None would get even close to what your actual routine looked like.

None would imagine The Winter Soldier lounging in a bathrobe, hair knotted into a bun at the top of his head as his fellow world-saving Avenger spread some green goop over his face. Chinese takeout boxes littered the living room coffee table, his feet were bubbling in warm foot spa.

“To keep your youthful complexion!” You had promised him. He didn’t comment on the obvious sound of your phone’s camera clicking.

He knew he must have looked completely ridiculous. But as you sunk into the couch next to him with identical spa treatments covering you, he couldn’t find it in himself to really care.

He never thought in a million years that he would have the chance of boring, completely benign afternoons. He thought he would be sidelined to violent missions for the rest of his life, to being thawed out like a microwave meal every time he was deemed useful. Sure, he felt a bit ridiculous when you reached over to adjust the slices of cucumber placed over his eyelids, but he also felt so relaxed.

As you settled even closer to him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder, he would happily take the teasing remarks from Sam when you showed him the pictures.

Homecoming

Peter wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting ready for his senior year homecoming dance at the tower. But Aunt May was upstate on vacation with Happy and he still didn’t know how to tie a tie.

“Oh, you look so handsome, Peter!” You gushed as your fingers worked on his tie. Bucky stood to the side, holding MJ’s corsage in a delicate plastic container. Peter had been careful to find the perfect color, with a little guidance from you. The white dahlias matched perfectly with Peter’s light green tie.

“Thanks, Ms. (Y/L/N).”

Peter, ever the polite kid.

“Be safe, kid. Have her home at a reasonable time and no wandering hands.” Bucky handed over the corsage with a supportive slap to Peter’s shoulder. He was quick to promise that he would follow all the rules before making a dash to the door, just as you were about to ask for pictures.

“Don’t wait up!” He called as the elevator dinged behind him.

“They grow up so fast.” You sniffled. “I didn’t even go to my homecoming dances.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody ever asked me.” You shrugged, collecting the other ties Peter had picked from and hanging them carefully over your arm. Tony didn’t have to know that Peter was taking one of his priceless Versace neckties to a homecoming dance.

“To be fair, I would’ve been scared shitless to ask you to a dance.” Bucky followed close behind. “And I fought a war.”

“That’s sweet, Buck.” You brushed him off as you retreated into Tony’s closet.

“No, really.” His hand caught your elbow. “I would’ve been the luckiest guy in town if I had you on my arm.”

You fell asleep that night imagining you and Bucky twirling around a dance hall without a care in the world.

One

Steve’s hand was firm against your shoulder, his tactical glove soaked and dripping with your blood. Your eyes were unfocused, head lulling every so often when the fight to keep it steady just seemed too difficult. Sam was at your other side, cracking jokes to try to keep your attention on him and not of the literal bullet lodged in your shoulder.

You were escorted from the jet in a flurry, doctor’s hands replacing Steve’s. You barely winced when you were administered painkillers and the ache begun to subside. Before you could blink, you were lifted onto a gurney in the medical bay and the clink of the bullet that had been dug from your flesh rang through the room as it clattered into a metal dish.

Bucky ran in just as the doctor finished maneuvering a long roll of gaze around your shoulder, scheduling a time for you to return to have it cleaned and reapplied again.

“What happened?” He brushed past the doctor without a second glance, eyes trained on your figure pressed against the sterile hospital bed. “Steve said-”

“It’s nothing. Steve likes to be dramatic.”

“-that you were shot!”

“Oh, well. Yeah, that happened.” You moved to sit up, your arm immediately giving out under the weight. Bucky moved even closer to help you, hand careful on your back like you were made of glass. “But just the one time.”

“As far as I’m concerned, one is too many.” He watched the gauze turn darker against your skin; your eyes screwed shut in pain as your knuckles turned white against the sheets. “And you’re never going on a mission without me again.”

Freight Car

“You’re free.”

He remembers those worlds so clearly, it’s like him and Ayo are still sat next to that crackling fire in Wakanda. He thought that had been it. He would never again worry about those ten phrases that erased Bucky Barnes and allowed a machine to emerge from his memory.

As he stole glances of you from the corner of his eye, shadowed by his unruly hair, he knew those words still very much existed in his mind.

They weren’t a means to an end, anymore. He didn’t have to grit his teeth and clench his fists to fight them off. They were new, now. He saw each of those words in you and realized just how important they are now they they’ve found a new meaning.

His love for you came easy.

One second, he was looking at his friend. She was looking back at him and he felt safe.

Your fingers brushed over his shoulder, where flesh turned to metal, and you looked away as though you hadn’t just made him fall in love with you with a single touch.

It took three years for Bucky to make a move. Another party, another escape plan to the balcony where you were waiting for him, like always. The last time you had found yourselves in that position, he had been too unsure. Too wary of what it would mean and if it was too soon.

Now, he didn’t care. He just wanted you and to be selfish and not think about consequences when he leaned forward and finally pressed his lips to yours.

You pulled back, but not far.

Something clicked.

Your love for him hit you like a freight car. Swooping in from nowhere but really, you should have felt the rattling of the tracks beneath your feet. You should have seen all the signs that you loved him and he loved you back. In stolen glances and easy afternoons, in hard missions and bloodshed. He was there, and he looked at you like that. Like everything his body had done was to finally make it to you in this moment.

He waited, patient. He had waited this long, what was another few seconds as the realization washed over your features?

“Oh.” Was your clever whisper.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s hands cradled your face, “Took you long enough.”

taglist: @bibliophilewednesday @teti-menchon0604​ @thiswasnevermylifefromtony​ @spid3rgwen​ @beautyandthebleh​ @victoriabaker112213​ @orthellqs @phasma-trash​

[aneldritchmoth]

Here's an introduction post I guess

HERE WE GO!

Hi I'm Cryptid but you can call me Cameron or Cam for short! I'm 17 years old, I'm bilingual (I speak French and English). I'm a Demiboy AroAce and I use they/he pronouns! I love to draw, play video games, read fanfics on ao3 and listen to music!

My art supplies for those who are curious are an XP-PEN Artist 13.3 Pro and Krita for my digital art. For my traditional art it's an Ohulu sketchbook and Ohulu markers, for the sketches I use a Pentel Energize X mechanical pencil with 0.7 leds!

FUN FACTS ABOUT ME:

I've had a grand total of three cats and dogs in my life so far

I love travelling, planes is my second favorite part of the trip. The first one being learning about the culture/country I'm visiting.

I've been drawing for as long as I can remember

I love collecting plushs and figurine pops

The earliest comfort character I had that I can remember is Winnie The Pooh and my earliest kin was Apple Jack

My top current kins are Mirabel (Encanto), Brett (Inside Job) and Kaminari Denki (MHA)

I have two little sisters, making me the older sibling

My favorite color is purple

SOME OTHER PLATFORMS I'M ON:

Instagram | Art Account & Cat Account

Spotify | Main Account & Personal Fav Playlist

FANDOMS I'M CURRENTLY IN/WAS IN:

Musicals | Hamilton, Heathers, BMC, DEH, Six

Animes | MHA, Hetalia, TBHK

Cartoons | Gravity Falls, Ducktales 2017, Monster High

Disney | Encanto, Rapunzel, Frozen, Moana, Turning Red, Raimi's Spiderman & NWH

Video Games | UNDERTALE, FNAF, MINECRAFT, CRK, DBH

Podcasts | The Magnus Archives, Sounds Fake But Okay, SCP Archives, I Spent A Day With..., Banter

YouTube Series | The Walten Files, The Mandala Catalog, Third & Last Life , 100 Hours, Hermitcraft, Dream SMP, Origins SMP

BOUNDARIES:

DO NOT REPOST OR STEAL MY ART

REBLOGS, LIKES & SHARES are always appreciated

DNI LIST:

Homophobes, Transphobes, Xenophobes, Bigots, Zoophiles

People who ship incest, minors with adults or any other kind of problematic dynamics - it's not cute, it's fucking disgusting, stay of my page

ProShippers

People who ship real life content creators - I'm okay with shipping characters they played (i.e. c!Awesamdude x c!Ponk)

People who hate furries - I'm a furry, so... awkward

People who hate cats

People who stigmatize mental health

People who hate on self inserts - I can appreciate a good joke about it but people who bully others because they self insert into any piece of media they enjoy, I won't tolerate

People who use wattpad - this is a wattpad hate account

People who interact with content involving smut

ANYONE WHO'S 30 YEARS OLD+

ANYONE WHO'S 13 YEARS OLD (and younger) - first of all what are you doing on Tumblr and second of all I am trying to keep my content Family Friendly but still dni

CONCLUSION

Of course I will try to update this as time goes on but for now that is it. Also try to remember that english is NOT my mother tongue so if I've made a mistake in my grammar in this post please tell me and I will fix it. Thank you for reading this! Have a great day or night! :)

[junhuiste]

break the code (ex-wip)

pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

wc: 1900

tags/warning: basketball!soonyoung, college au, slightly suggestive language, cursing

a/n: this was something i started way back in 2017 when i was 15 lol and i tried going back to it and finishing but i just can’t seem to continue it!! but i don’t want it to just sit in my drafts so i’m just going to post the unfinished wip! i might do this with a lot of wips i’ve had collecting dust over the years (and they’re like 99% svt lol); if i ever do find some stroke of inspo to finish it i might but for now enjoy the 1900 words i wrote when i was a sophomore

“But babe, you’ll sit on my side, right?” Soonyoung continued to pester you with countless little questions to which he knew the exact answers to.

You pursed your lips at your boyfriend; mild sorrow and guilt clouded your eyes. In return he pout your favorite pair of plush pillows to kiss, with dull bleakness and dismals fogging his irises. It was hard, really, to resist the pull of a magnet, who was trying every trick in the book to coerce you to sit on his school’s side of the bleachers for the upcoming basketball game on Friday.

Had it been that both of you were just your run-of-the-mill university couple, tachycardia would’ve caused you to blurt out “yes” instantaneously just by being gazed upon by Soonyoung, but alas, the big guy upstairs made it to be so that you technically couldn’t through the rulebook of the sibling code.

A flushed palm extended to your denim-covered thighs, with the utmost desire lacing his fingers.

“Pretty please? With a cherry on top?” His digits creeped towards your inner thigh, getting closer to the actual cherry he wanted on top.

“Soonyoung, no matter how well you do me, I’m still obligated to sit on my side of the bleachers.”

None of Soonyoung’s coercions could persuade you to decide about where to sit. You really would’ve preferred to sit on his side, but with your current situation, none of that was possible. It was a precarious oscillation between blood and water, and neither did you want to drown in with regret for embracing one over another.

“Fine. If you can’t cheer me on–which is a pitiful shame–let me take you out to eat after the game. And we can make out in my car or something so he won’t have to know.” Soonyoung’s gaze no longer held flashes of fervor, but rather a decadent gleam of sheer admiration.

“It’s a done deal, but you better promise me to dunk on him, or be prepared to get dunked on by him. As of right now, however, you owe me some kisses for making me wobble continuously back and forth between your side and his before I go,” you taunted, “come here you little rascal.”

Soonyoung gleamed at you piercingly, yielding you to lean forward against him as a shock of joy sparked up your back. His hand feathered along the back of your thigh, brushing it so longingly, with a tinge of impertinence here and there. You could feel the urgency radiating from him as he struggled to press you even closer to him, as there were no more gaps to be filled. He grasped your chin gingerly, before connecting his lips with yours, wanting to revel in dire coalescence he’d been awaiting upon your arrival.

Soonyoung is the warm bath you dip yourself into after constant exhaustion, the meager yet compelling and needed breeze as the sun beats down you, the red mark that’s actually relieving and boasts “A+” on a hard worked assignment, the last basket shot as the clock dashes away with the snickering seconds, and he is what has you torn on where your loyalty stands, but you can’t thank him enough for that strife.

You pulled away first because getting you two to separate would be a long ass haul, and maybe it was also getting late, just maybe. Your eyes glimpsed at the badgering hands that indicated 11:35 PM, and nothing but a sullen sigh managed to escape your lips.

It wasn’t fair, how time sashayed away, but there were no seconds left to spare to sulk about it, so you caressed the tranquility Soonyoung’s face possessed and left a lingering peck upon it. Knowing him, you’d expected him to grip your waist and pull you down with him into the waters of his joyous yet yearning ways but the coal haired boy enveloped you in an enticing embrace and with his lips hovering slightly above your ear, whispered, “Tell him to get ready.”

“I swear to God, I hate basketball,” your brother exhaled out in utter annoyance, to which you furrowed your brows at.

You always shifted in your seat restlessly, your heart palpitating at an ungodly speed of McQueen, eyes sought frantically to avoid meeting your brother’s, upon the dreaded word of “basketball” ringing in your ears. It wasn’t that you abhorred it, no, not at all; you absolutely appreciated the art of dunking and the pleasing note of swish through the hoop, but just not the people you knew personally who partook in it.

There’s always a Montague and Capulet narrative happening somewhere in the universe, always, and it just so happened that you were struck with the curse by some godforsaken entity of destiny of landing a role in your life as the fresh faced, ever so naive, youngest member of the Capulets–Juliet. And you dreaded the direction your supposed fairytale was headed the first time your boyfriend asked you to watch his basketball game, which oddly enough, was the same one your brother requested you to “bring all your hot friends” to.

As strange as it sounded, it wasn’t your brother’s undeniable libido for your friends that irked you and made you hesitate going to a basketball game, to which you’ve never thought twice about before, but it was the statement of, “God I am going to crush number 10’s ass.”

Number 10. Number fucking 10. Of course, it had to be the player that sweat through blue polyester and nylon, donning number 10 in white on the front and back. It could have been player number 13 or 17, for God’s sake it could have even been a negative number sported on the jersey, yet it all had to align in the cosmos to be player number 10.

You didn’t certainly deem ESP to be something legitimate, but on that day you swore to god your mind fucked you royally in the ass and placed you in Soonyoung’s dorm room the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary, really, nothing but the sight of a teenage boy’s niche, because a lot of basketball players had to have chosen the number 10 for their jersey, right?

The environment malfunctioned instantaneously with the repetition of “I am going to crush number 10’s ass” circling about a short circuit in your mind. From that moment onward, the sight of the jersey was unquestionably more radiant that it could have ever been, with the blinding, white number ten atop Soonyoung’s chair cackling obstreperously at your oh shit moment. Tuning in to your brother slander your university’s rival, Soonyoung’s school, was always such a joy (not) to participate in.

Every “basketball” here and there snagged you by the ear and dragged you to hell and back with it, provoking the cracks of your palm to drench in sweat and legs to quiver more than you had felt around Soonyoung before dating him.

“Yeah I mean it’s not like you’ve worked your entire ass off the past 4 years or so to even set foot on the college court you've been dreaming of since you were 13!” Diverting your brother’s mental debate on his love of the sport, it was a necessity to pluck something else from thin air to talk about, and not your school’s rival when they had games against each other, which was seemingly a bloodbath in their perspective.

Trying to escape your brother’s trash talk of Soonyoung’s team was walking through an eternal, pitch black, underground tunnel, no goddamn escape.

“They only got us last time because of number 10’s foolery. Jesus Christ, the kid better slow down or he’s wasting stamina. Can’t believe he holds the title of captain, like me. I motherfucking swear to God if I have to listen to his loud ass winning chant–” yadah yadah, number 10 this, number 10 that.

You would have dozed off to your brother’s lovely lullaby of scorn towards your boyfriend had it not been for a text…from your boyfriend.

[spoonyoung]

hii hiiiii heyyyy hello bby Hhhii babe i miss youuuuu hi!

[y/n]

i can tell u’re tired :( don’t be

[spoonyoung]

he's going to crush me dang flabbit

y/n

so ur nervous ??? bby it’s just a game istg,,both of you treat it like warfare

[incoming call: spoonyoung]

Shit, what the hell? This bitch, right now? In this economy, at this time?

Inside your chest was a drumline pounding, giving it their all, threatening to burst out and announce to your brother that “Hey, your rival is dating your sister! They’re probably going to fuck later but you don’t know about any of it!”

You would plummet into poignancy if you didn’t pick up his call, because there was no chance you could see him everyday, so honestly fuck that you guys attended different schools, and resorting to calling each other did bring both of you to ease, but not at this goddamn, forsaken time, with one you love phoning you with 17,000 vibrations per second, and the other idiot you were practically forced to love, perched next to you, indignantly gripping the wheel with such force you couldn’t decide which one generated more turbulence within you.

Tensely clutching what was now a scorching piece of metal, you held it up conscientiously to your ear, and forced yourself to breathe out calmly and collectively. Every single mention, tidbit and strand, bob and fragment of Soonyoung that was mentioned around you when you were with your brother grabbed your trachea in its firm hold and forced the wind out of you.

“Hey, Hoshi,” you managed to choke out in a level headed manner.

Hoshi. That was what you and Soonyoung agreed to nickname him if you ever picked up a call from him around your brother or his teammates, but god forbid you were actually allowed to have a life of any sort!

“Babe,” Soonyoung mewled out from the other line, “I actually can’t do this. Don’t tell him, but your brother is really good...of course he is.”

Frowning because of Soonyoung’s lack of usual mirth and brimming confidence, you sighed, “If you let it get to you, then your thoughts affect your actions, and you don’t want that to happen right? You’ll be fine...and I’m not just saying this to say something, but you’re really good too, and you can’t let one person bring your entire mood down...even if...you know…”

“Will you at least come with me to my dorm after the game?”

“Oh you know I’ll be doing more than that,” giggling into your phone, trying to sound as enticing as possible, completely engrossed in this very conversation, as it was all the time talking with Soonyoung.

Both of you had a habit of drastically turning your talks from upside downs to those of obvious elation. They were conversations sometimes needed to be kept in the comforting privacy, selfishly not wanting to let anyone else in on the baby i missed you’s and the do you need anything from the boba shop’s and literally you don’t have the right to look this good’s.

Startled by the grunting and hacking oh so wonderfully expired by the total jackass to your left, you contended to the third degree, with the patience that was never really there starting to thin out, “Do you need something?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Soonyoung to call coincidentally at the times you were with—more like right next to—his rival, probably because his

[bigpandahero]

The legacy of appetence（the translation of 欲望遗产 from Lofter written by 此人已死）

Original link：https://ryuusuke.lofter.com/post/1cc28a98_1cb209a44

Original author：此人已死（from lofter）

Home link：https://ryuusuke.lofter.com/

Authorized reprint translation.

thank to @ask-ivanbraginsky for your help!

chapter1:

July 20, 2017

The culprit

 July 20, 2017

 Potato .beef. onion.

 Every time he took something off the shelf, Wang Yao would cross out a word on the list. He looked for discounted goods in various barcodes, a pen and paper in hand. He pushed his shopping cart as he walked around the supermarket. Until seeing the last thing on the list, wine.

 Wang Yao went out to a supermarket very rarely.This time he went out because the refrigerator was empty, like his brain. He entered, throwing a coin and heard a Do re mi.

 He walked to the shelf picking out a 700ml bottle of vodka and checked the price, cautious as a housewife, he finally chose the 50ml "baby bottle" next to him. 

The checkout cashier was chewing bubble gum. They looked at him with disdain, a look that Wang YAO was accustomed to. This kind of look had been haunting him since he became an adult. 

He looked down at the gray tracksuit he was wearing, and his plush slippers of the Sesame Street cartoon character. He looked like a hapless boy with a drunkard father. 

He swept the colorful over-packaged goods into a sturdy plastic shopping bag—a blue squirrel logo was printed on it, its face squeezed out of shape by a box of cereal.

 What kind of perversion will paint the squirrel blue.

 Wang Yao heard the cashier from behind turn his head and whisper something to his colleague. He carried the plastic bag and walked out of the automatic door blankly. The toy monkeys on both sides shouted "Welcome".

 He walked home, passing by an open park. There were a few young people playing baseball on the lawn. He sat on the promenade smoking a cigarette and unscrewed a bottle of ice sprite. He drank down half the bottle in one breath, then allowed the carbon dioxide to tumble in his stomach for a while. 

He took out the wine bottle that he struggled to find from the plastic bag, imagined that the small metal bottle cap was the heavenly spirit cap of some heinous person, opened it with his teeth in a crisp "bom" and poured it in happily. His body began to get hot, sweating from his back in the 28-degree weather. The polyester cloth stuck to the skin, uncomfortably. He threw his leg anxiously-in the season when others were wearing short-sleeved T-shirts, he was still wearing long-sleeved trousers. In times like this he thought of the Russian, and began to scold him furiously in his mind. He silently cursed, mouthing the words that went along with his thoughts. He was suddenly interrupted, he snapping back to reality. "Hey! Damn gay! Help us pick up the ball!”

everal young people gathered together maliciously and whispered. They made nasty gestures and sneered unscrupulously in Wang Yao's direction. 

Fuck.

 He pressed the cigarette butt on the bench, swept away the soot from his thigh and raised his butt, bending over to pick up the baseball on the grass. He threw it at the crowd fiercely, then made a more wretched gesture. 

My paramour could screw all your fucking “balls” off.

 Wang Yao shook the plastic bottle in his hand and heard the remaining liquid hit the wall of the bottle with a hollow echo.

 He finally took the plastic bag and went on his way, stopping to place the wine bottle down by a homeless man who laid lifeless on the side of the road against the wall.

 He returned to the white-roofed house and passed by the neighbor's beautiful fence with a few swaggering violets planted in it. He inadvertently looked inside, and happened to meet the eyes of the Labrador. Even though he had moved in a month ago and had returned his flying disk a dozen times, the dog still didn't recognize him, damn it. 

While the dog annoyingly barked, he glanced at the empty mailbox, then, as timid as a thief, he unscrew the door handle of his home. 

The person inside the door was standing by the shoe cabinet. They smiled, watching him with a pair of indifferent purple eyes exposed under ash-gold hair.

"You came back early." Wang Yao greeted dryly. "There is nothing I need to do today.  You didn't tell me you would go out—you went out again in slippers?" Wang Yao threw the key under the nose of the man who was nagging like a woman, and sat on the steps to change shoes .

the key has a key chain of panda holding a bamboo hanging on . It hurt the man's face. Wang Yao was very gloating, even though this man named Ivan Braginsky was his lover.

The keychain was the first and last time they went to the amusement park together and won with a gun. To be precise, Wang Yao won with a gun himself.

Because Ivan doesn’t have a good temper to wait for him, but Wang Yao is as stubborn as a cow.He seems to be possessed by a demon and must win the key chain.

In the end, he took the key chain from the boss who were smile flatteringly for $25 in front of the game booth which  you would cost 2.50 dollars each time on shooting. Wang Yao believes that the main reason for the inaccuracy of shooting was the sexual harassment of him by Ivan during this period. Ivan—Standing upright and stomping his feet impatiently, like a dishonest vibrator, he patted Wang Yao's ass and yelled in his ear: "You fucking under the noses of these men pouched and played with a toy gun for more than half an hour, just for a piece of junk plastic!"

Of course, no one was able to help Wang Yao in the end. He was thrown into the toilet cubicle by the Russian man by the collar. It is estimated that all the men who went to the amusement park to go to the toilet that day could hear him being fucked. Now he still could memorize the smell of air freshener choking in his throat as long as he saw the panda.

Ivan turned a blind eye to Wang Yao's innocuous violence. He always indulges him in all the trivial things, and people who are not familiar with him would think that he is a good gentleman.

Ivan is being troubled by something more important-a headache gnaws at his brain like a devil, and his alcohol addiction has blurred his consciousness. He lifted the plastic bag on the ground and pressed it against the wall to hold himself who was about to fall. It took a while, and then he stood up straight again. At first, his steps were still a little staggering, but soon, he began a brisk pace, walked to the refrigerator, hummed a few unexplained Russian, twisted the refrigerator in the shape of the Eiffel Tower before opening the refrigerator door. He snorted impatiently, and tossed the food into the cold storage as before.

"You forgot to throw away the paper notes."

Wang Yao followed him to the living room, listening to unfamiliar Russian in his ears, slowly translating it into English in his head, and lightly taking a glass of tap water for himself.

"So, where's the wine?"

Wang Yao put down the glass, and the bottom of the glass touched the marble table ,letting out a crisp sigh. He stared at the swirling vortex in the cup, cold sweat was oozing clearly on his forehead, but his bones creaked in excitement. Before exhaling a breath in his chest, he answered the question from the person behind him in Russian: "I have drunk it all”.

All the words he didn't have time to say were stuffed back into his throat by the strong, opaque plastic bag with the blue squirrel on it. Ivan's forearm muscles bulged, like the thighs of a carnivore running. He tightened the mouth of the plastic bag, twisted the other's fragile neck, and dragged Wang Yao's struggling body up the stairs.

The process was extremely unsatisfactory and annoying, and the alcohol addiction made him more irritable, so he pressed Wang Yao's head and slammed twice on the newly laid pine-green wallpaper. The plastic stopped the splashing blood and the blood turned into a dark shadow on the back of the blue squirrel. Wang Yao who was rebelling was like a kitten in a bag, weak and vulnerable.

Wang Yao was thrown on the soft bed. A thick tape was wrapped around his mouth with a plastic bag to seal the last oxygen. He tried to break it with his fingers, but it was useless.

His hands were grabbed by Ivan, and he couldn't see anything. He just guessed from this strength that Ivan’s knees were pressing on his arms. It was very painful and heavy, and even the thought of resisting was blocked. Pressed under the body. Wang Yao gradually calmed down and even breathed regularly. The sound around him fluctuated in the dark with his breathing. The sound of fine plastic fragments no longer pierced the ears, but turned into a regular pulse. His head was soaked in carbon dioxide, warm and damp, squeezed in a narrow film, he looked at the only light circle in the dimness-the hands tore the uterus, holding the weak head, playing with the balance of life and death.

He finished his dying ejaculation at the end of suffocation.

Ivan helped Wang Yao get rid of the tape that bound him on his head. The tape tore off a few long black hairs, connecting to the coagulated blood entangled in the hair. He took off Wang Yao's clothes, revealing his familiar and obsessed body.

The setting sun flicked through Wang Yao's eyes, reflecting the golden light of bronze.The black hair scattered beside the beautiful face, constituting the most mysterious color in the oil painting, blurring the limitation of gender. The naked body was covered with old scars and fresh bruises, wounds which were cracking and the redness that was swollen. The body was still beautiful, graceful and weak.The bloody scars made him show the power of life, making him no longer a flawless corpse.

Those scars were incomplete by Ivan, but he still deserved to be the culprit, although most of the time Wang Yao had to take the responsibility. Yao liked enraged him, teasing him, and sometimes even gave that handsome face to two resounding slap. Even if he knew that Ivan was insane, he would still deliberately drink up the wine at home, hiding it, observing the person in front of him turn into another devil who would chase his butt to strangle him.After waking up, decorate all with a terrible sex until dawn.

“Stepan? "

"Damn it, don't call his name in front of me."

"It hurts a bit.”

Wang Yao stretched out his thin arms to block his lover's head, kissing his soft and warm lips, counting the fluffy golden eyelashes, and exhaled a few silly love words in his blended breath.

He took the initiative to open his legs to cater to the opponent's hot desire, the erect penis had already oozes transparent liquid, squeezing into his soft and moist flesh cavity.

Wang Yao cocked his hips, his legs were like two gluttonous pythons, tied tightly to Ivan's waist. His body shook with the opponent's movements, his nails sinking into the tight muscles, and he scratched red marks on the wide back.

 He uttered a few high-pitched obscene words under the man, and was sobbed by the top of his penis, then he could no longer speak a complete word.

 Ivan's hand passed through Wang Yao's hair and kissed his favorite eyebrows and narrow neck. His five fingers hooked the other's lovely fingers, palms pressing against each other, and the vent of lust was more delicate than the girl's mind.

Car lights flashed outside the window, and a few beams of moonlight leaked in. The silver rings on the two ring fingers complemented each other in the dimly lit room, calling for each other.

 After exhausting sex, they slept with each other like two sleepy beasts.

 It was early the next morning when Wang Yao opened his eyes again, and the alarm clock on the bedside stopped at number five. The people around him slept quietly in the dark, their sturdy bodies undulating with their breathing. Even in his sleep, this person's body was shrouded in a heavy sense of oppression, like a huge animal.

“I want to change the bed. "

 Wang Yao stared at the mosquitoes on the ceiling intently. "This bed is yelling like a dead pig."

 After waiting for a long time, no one responded to him, and he felt a little bad. Although he had predicted the result, he still had illusions and was rather self-deceiving and tragic.

 He ignored the pain everywhere in his body, got up abruptly, grabbed the gray-golden hair.He picked up the heavy head from the soft pillow, and forced the purple eyes to look at him.

Then he heard a clear bark rolling out of the man's throat.

 Fuck.

Discloseable information:Both Wang Yao and Ivan are American citizens.

Yao has a bad temper, so Ivan can bear it if he can bear it.

Ivan is a patient with multiple personality disorders.

The first personality is Stepan, who usually only appears after being addicted to alcohol and drunk, so it appears for a short time. It is a personality with no emotions and absolute violence. He does not love Wang Yao, and he does not love anyone. He only speaks Russian, will conceal his spasms with his fists, and has a very serious obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The second personality is a dog. His name is "Los", which means "frogfish" in Russian. Only appears out of guilty after Stepan caused irreparable pain to the loved one , so the frequency of appearance is extremely low. It means that Ivan has few guilty, because the master character is not a good guy either.Ivan and Stepan hate each other, so they don't communicate with each other, and they don't share memories.

------------------------tbc.-----------------

[thebutterflysoupblog]

Butterfly Soup - Trivial Trivia Edition!

During the summer of 2020, CaptainScarth (an admin on the Butterfly Soup Wiki page) made a nearly impossible quiz with 69 questions about Butterfly Soup. I'll share some of the interesting facts I found, or some that you may not have considered! You can access the quiz here.

Trivia About The Game

It’s available in 9 languages: English, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Portuguese, Czech, Bahas Indonesian, Polish, and Farsi

It was created with Ren’Py

It was released 16 September 2017

Its sequel was announced February 2018

It won the “Best Visual Novel of 2017″ award by PC Gamer

There are 9 butterflies and 10 hearts on the title screen

The first word of the game is “Diya”

Diya

Diya’s first dialogue line was: “What’s that supposed to mean.” This was after Hayden said Diya was more princess-like than Min.

Diya’s worst fear is disappointing her parents. This was mentioned when Min and Diya went to the Oakland Coliseum

Diya hates bittermelon

As a kid, Diya wanted 5 dogs. She said it would be like having 4 friends. Canonically, she ended up getting two as an adult

It had been 5 years since Diya last saw Min as kids

Diya is hard of hearing. She is deaf in her right ear from an infection when she was little. This is mentioned in Akarsha’s chapter when it was explained that Diya turned to hear Akarsha. It is also mentioned in Ask Batch #19

Diya is 5′10 in 9th grade (according to this FAQ) but she was still shorter than Chryssa

The name of Diya’s childhood team was the Collies

Diya’s food hierarchy is: Blue flavor > Peanut butter > Mango > Circle in the center

The last spoken word in Diya’s chapter was character. Noelle was complaining to Chryssa after Chryssa said “Suffering builds character!” to which Noelle responded “I don’t want character!”

The last unspoken sentence was Diya saying in her head: I guess we’re all playing baseball now? happily.

Noelle

The first time the player encounters Noelle, she brought a plastic baggy of grapes and a steel thermos of fried rice to lunch. The next day, she brought stir-fry with bittermelon

Noelle hates bittermelon

Noelle’s first line of dialogue was: “Diya! Help me!” She needed help opening a water bottle

Noelle and Diya became friends because Noelle gifted Diya her doughnut. Diya had thought that Noelle had always been there by default

Noelle set the dry pine needles on fire, not Jerry

The poem Noelle’s dad printed out in her room said “There is no success without hardship”

In Ask #10, it is said that Noelle plays right fielder. Chryssa and Liz put her there because less balls are tossed that way

Snakey’s (the plush Diya gave Noelle) sibling composition is two older brothers and a sister

Akarsha

Akarsha’s first dialogue line is “Ayy!”

Akarsha’s pee-pee time is before class

Akarsha plays shortstop (also in Ask #10)

The last spoken word in Akarsha’s chapter is “you.” This is because Akarsha says that Min likes Diya back and she will help Diya

Akarsha likes Ace Attorney, Zero Escape, and Nabari no Ou, as she suggested names for the caterpillar from these games (and one manga)

Min

Min’s first dialogue in the game was: “THIS IS THE WORST STORY IN HISTORY!”

Min made her imaginary gun (during a flashback to the summer between third and fourth grade) out of rocks

Min drew a giant dagger on her arm with Sharpie as a kid

Min would name her dog Skull Crusher (according to her conversation with Diya at the Oakland Coliseum)

Min and her family moved to Florida.

Min said she had to drink milkshakes instead of boba in Florida (Noelle was also shocked)

Min wanted a Corvette when she got older

Min cut her hair and stopped wearing dresses in grade 2

Min played Sonic Adventure 2 as a kid

Min is the older twin (this is mentioned in Min’s chapter when she refers to herself as ‘noona’ to Jun)

Min and Noelle were accidentally drinking pani at the buffet

Min used the insults lamp post, giraffe, long green bean, and Empire State Building to refer to Noelle

The last word spoken in Min’s chapter was “Bye.”

Miscellaneous

There are 9 people in the Baseball Club and 9 people on the Niles team

The name of the Baseball Club before it was changed was the Monarchs

There were only people who identify with female pronouns in the baseball club by coincidence

Akarsha and Min needed 392 more cents to buy Mario Party at GameStop

Ester’s first line of dialogue was: “Game dates? Who are we playing against?”

The first Baseball Club meeting was on Friday

Liz knows Diya from being at one of Diya’s games when they were little, but in actuality, she played against Diya before she transitioned. Liz didn’t want to out herself, which is why she said that. (Asks #16)

That’s it! At some point, I’ll probably make another post regarding specific trivia Brianna Lei had answered on her Asks that were not explicitly mentioned in the game. If you end up taking the quiz I linked, let me know what you got! (●'◡'●)

[overthepopp]

Collector Crossovers:

Squishmallows!!!

Hey Funko fam! Since I’m running this blog for the course of my semester, there are bound to be some weeks where my POP related news runs a little dry. As much as I dedicate myself to collecting them, my wallet needs a break every now & then.

I thought it might be a fun idea to do a post every few weeks where I share a bit about some of my other collections! This week’s Collector Crossovers post is dedicated to my second favorite collection next to my Funko POPs:

✨Squishmallows✨

Launched in 2017, these soft, round plushes are made by Kelly Toy and are a huge craze with kids and collectors currently. I feel like they’re definitely the new “Beanie Babies.”

All throughout last year, I saw Squishmallows gaining traction online. My youngest sister talked about how all of her friends had them, and even some of my own friends were buying them. Already being a collector of Funko POPs though, I told myself I didn’t really need any Squishmallows. What was I going to do with a bunch of stuffed animals anyways?

Then on one fateful run to my local Walgreens on September 4, I found this.

This 14-inch Mickey Mouse Squishmallow is what set me off on a new collection journey. Because if there’s Disney-based ones, I just HAVE to find them all right? It would be almost uncharacteristic of me to not do that.

Jump to present day, and just under 50 Squishes later… I am still asking myself that same question from earlier. What the hell am I going to do with all of these?

I have some of them in organizers like this one ⬇️

And others are stacked in a corner like so ⬇️

(I call this my Squishmallow totem pole.)

The rest of my Squishes are all on my couch in my room, waiting for more friends to inevitably join them.

I go Squishmallow hunting with my friends, where we take an afternoon every few weeks to go shopping around different toy stores looking for the newest drops of Squishes. The furthest we have driven is almost an hour and a half just to check out one store.

One of my friends is also in an “Illinois Squishmallow” Facebook group, where people post their findings from all across the state. We usually use that as a resource to go and hunt for specific plushes.

I’ve gotten my cousins hooked on Squishmallows, my siblings love them and I have tried to spread the obsession to as many of my friends as possible. No one else in my life collects Funko POPs like I do, but I now have tons of family and friends that are expanding their Squishmallow collections. I think that’s the reason these plushes mean so much to me. It’s a collection that I’ve been able to share with people close to me and has helped me connect to people in new ways.

If you’re a Funko POP collector and you don’t have any Squishmallows, I highly recommend trying to find some! They’re so soft and easy to cuddle with. I sometimes use mine as pillows or as support for my back when I’m sitting/sleeping. It helps that they’re all freaking adorable too.

Thanks for reading & until next time,

Johnny

[flydotnet]

I have way too many pieces I forget to post online... It’s also the first year since 2017 where I’ve been able to piece together one of those with (mostly) finished pieces, so that’s kinda cool. (A shame, that October sketch looks so cool lmfao).  I tried to diversify the characters shown but still ended up repeating two of them. Woops.

List of pieces used (without links because Tumblr is Tumblr); full pieces under the cut (only exception is October, since it’s still a .csp file):

January: concept art for adult Tachimukai for my Inazuma personal canon/TC Extended Universe, since they use the same headcanons anyway. Character featured: Yuuki Tachimukai (Inazuma Eleven)

February: HaruTachi Matryoshka. Character featured: Haruna Otonashi (Inazuma Eleven).

March: a chibi college-age Tachi I drew for a plush commission that I ended up not sending to the plush maker. (I didn’t have actual finished art for March, oof). Same character as January.

April: the Haruna part of my HaruTachi fill for the interview ship meme that was popular on Twitter back in November 2020. Same character as February.

May: “White Queen”, the first piece I made with my current tablet and based on both a metaphor I wrote into “Regalia” and a drawing I had made inspired by it. Character featured: Anna Mikado (Inazuma Eleven).

June: The IoTsumu part of the food-inspired piece I made for the three main TCEU ships, based on vanilla and cinnamon. Character featured: Tsumugi Takanashi (IDOLiSH7).

July: “Kyriaki”, a piece meant to be the first of six. I actually never finished it since I forgot to give Derek his hair texture. Oops! Character featured: Derek Stiles (Trauma Center).

August, September and November: Art made for a tarot-themed collection of playlists I’ve got on Spotify. They make up most of the art I made last fall, so they feature here a lot. Characters featured: Jeanne Mouchon (OC), Serena (Yu-Gi-Oh! Arc-V), Angela (OC).

October: A ChereBeru drawing to be my October piece, themed around pumpkin spice. I ended up not finishing it in time, but I may finish it in 2022. That sketch looks too good to be wasted. Character featured: Bianca (Pokémon).

December: A panel from a three-page redraw of a chapter of the original Captain Tsubasa manga because I caught serious brainrot for one (1) tertiary ship while watching the newest series. Character featured: Hikaru Matsuyama (Captain Tsubasa; 2018 anime design).

2021 was the most productive art-wise year I’ve had since.. 2015, I’d say? 2016 at the latest. That felt good and is in no little part thanks to me finally caving in and buying myself a new tablet after using the same hunk of,plastic for 4 years (it was a present from my parents for surviving my 1st year of college, so I still have mad respect for it). I hope 2022 can be as good, even if job life is about to bite my ass and yeet me to oblivion, lmao

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August & September

October: N/A

November

December