#theres so much i need to expand on still

[stevie-petey]

What if bugs favorite song was left by her dad? Like let's say long ago before her dad truly became a dick, he would sit with bug and Dustin and sing to them or teach them to play instruments. I personally think bug is a former daddy's girl ( but I can't be certain cause idk what he was like) so she'd love to hear her dad sing to her and it was just a very sweet moment for them. Well bugs Dad gifts her a little cassette tape of her favorite songs her dad would sing ( let's be real we heard Dustin in never ending story, bug and Dustin had to have got their musical prowess from someone). They're still her favorite despite the bittersweet feelings behind them. She hates her dad for leaving but still cherishes the memories behind the music. It reminds her of a simpler time before all the chaos she's been through. The memory behind it is just her, Dustin and her dad sitting on the porch ( giving mama Henderson a well deserved break). Dustin and bug are little then. Dustin is a toddler and can't quite keep still yet, but still listening to his dad, while bugs right there at his side. It's cool out, mellow wind, calm skies closer to sunset. It's a memory she holds very dear to her, which leads to some complicated feelings, but still it's nice.

my dear anon youre absolutely correct. bug was a daddys girl, she adored her father so much, and while she adores her mom, she recognizes that dustin is more similar to her than she is and that hes the mommas boy.

when the divorce happens, it hurt because not only did bug lose her role model and favorite person in the world, she also lost the parent who knew her best. he taught her everything she knows now, from her taste in comics to the music she likes and how to always be kind to those who may not deserve it. her dad was the reason for all of this, and its why she became so mean and spiteful when he left. how are you expected to continue kindness when the person who taught it to you leaves ?

and ive been careful to not mention any singing stuff yet, because bug CAN sing and its more lore that we will see in season 3 and 4 !!

but to sum up: yes, her favorite song is from her dad, and steve will unknowingly bring warmth back to a cold memory she was haunted by for a long, long time

[red-dyed-sarumane]

love that i went "im going to be so annoying about the isotopes now that i have their plushies" & all of u went "omg yay isotope posting". peace & love on planet earth

[artficlly]

lessons in lovemaking [part two]

marvel au bucky x blackwidow!reader You and Bucky Barnes go undercover as a married couple, but when a fake kiss gets too real, he unexpectedly finishes in his pants—leaving you both stunned.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, dry humping, blindfolding, grinding, soft dom vibes reader, soft sub vibes bucky, bucky is touch starved, clothed ejaculation, vague mentions of previous sa, ex black widow reader, very consensual, safe words, kissing, bucky barnes needs a hug, if you squint, there's some plot, fluff, angst, bickering, reader is lowkey depressed, mentions of past violence, death and war, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: hey guys, i'm literally so nervous posting this... it's been sitting in my drafts for like a month now and i finally worked up the courage to post after spending a couple hours editing :( i'm literally scheduling this to post at like 3am my time so i'm not awake when it goes live i'm so anxious bahaha. the start of this part is a bit slow, pls hold on because theres some light smut and angst at the end. i have plans for further parts that'll look more into the other avengers finding out and the development between bucky and readers relationship and their shared healing. sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist | series masterlist

It was only on rare occasions that the full team of Avengers (and co.) were in the same room. A momentous historical moment, in fact, normally reserved for two particular occasions:

The world was ending (in some gloriously diabolical way that usually involved aliens, interdimensional warlords, or some ancient, forgotten god with a vendetta) or

Tony Stark was throwing another one of his famously exclusive penthouse parties (which, despite being ‘exclusive,’ still managed to include half of New York—most of whom showed up just to gawk at the Avengers like a travelling circus act sent to entertain them personally.)

Today, it seemed, was neither of those occasions. Thor and the rest of the Asgardians—Bruce Banner included, oddly enough—were busy rebuilding after the destruction of Asgard. Wanda and Vision were off playing happy family elsewhere, and Clint was busy with his own quickly expanding family. The others, agents, specialists, the people whose names you never bothered to remember, were preoccupied with their own missions. Which left you here, filed neatly into the elusive extra category. Not quite an Avenger. Too valuable to be let loose, too unpredictable to be fully trusted.

You leant back in your chair, only half-listening to the conversation beside you. The skin around your thumbnail was raw. You picked at it absentmindedly, peeling back the edge where it had already started to flake, a sting flaring along the nail. You were thinking—too much, maybe—so you let them talk, let yourself disappear as they debated which bar had the strongest drinks and the least pathetic men.

The three of you were early. By some miracle, morning training had ended ahead of schedule. Natasha had wiped the floor with you, to the point where it probably would’ve been more productive to stay on the mat rather than waste your energy hauling yourself back up.

“What do you think?” It took you a second to realise Yelena was talking to you, elbows propped on the table, chin resting in her hand. She was watching you expectantly, sharp eyes narrowed.

You didn’t look up. “I’m not coming.”

She sighed dramatically. “You never hang out with us.” She leant back in her chair with an exaggerated huff, muttering under her breath, “So mysterious and cool. You think you’re better than us?” 

Natasha watched on amused, the redhead poised as always. “She doesn’t want to drink in front of us in case she spills her secrets.”

You scoffed. “What secrets?”

“I don’t know.” Natasha leant forward, watching you a little too closely now, like she was gauging your reaction. “How about how that mission went with Barnes?”

Ever since the gala mission, the two had been trying to get you alone, a few drinks in, hoping for something—a slip, an offhanded remark, anything that would confirm whatever hunches they had. You knew what they were fishing for. They weren’t subtle.

You just weren’t playing.

Neither you nor Bucky had said a word about it.

That, apparently, was suspicious.

“She is right, you know. Neither of you will say a word about it. I’m beginning to think something happened—” Yelena cut over her sister with a grin.

“Nothing happened,” you interrupted smoothly, finally lifting your eyes from the wreckage of your thumbnail. “You keep asking, but you’re not going to uncover some dirty secret. Sorry to disappoint."

“Then why the silence? No one would care if you fucked him, you could just plead innocence, overcome by playing the perfect, doting wife—”

You shot her a look, one withering enough to turn bone to dust and ego to rubble. 

“I mean… maybe people would care, but I wouldn’t judge you! Super soldier, metal arm… so hot, or whatever.” Yelena prattled on, and you ignored her, exhaling through your nose.

"I think he’s just mortified that people assume something did happen. He’s got enough brooding energy as it is." You muttered. 

“I just don’t believe nothing happened, trapped in that hotel room together for a week. Apparently, you were convincing enough to keep the targets off your scent, and we all know Barnes’ acting is as stiff as a cadaver on ice—”

Your face twisted into a look of exasperation before you could control yourself, straightening in your seat. “God, you two really are like vultures, picking around for the slightest bit of gossip—”

“Wow, defensive—” 

“Isn’t that the joy in life? Digging for gossip?” Natasha cut back in with a sharp smirk.

“You two are insufferable!” You interrupted, slapping your palms onto your thighs. "I think I’ll keep my secrets. I’ll leave the both of you to continue plotting this fantastical mystery you’ve created in your minds—”

“It’s only fun because you get so worked up about it,” Natasha cut back with a grin you could only describe as predatory. “Plus, I do love watching Rogers squirm listening to all the theories."

“You know,” Yelena mused, swirling the thought around before letting it slip, “I don’t think Steve is as innocent as we think he is. I’m pretty sure I heard him and Sharon—”

She cut herself off just as the door swung open, and the rest of the team filtered in.

You schooled your reaction, easily slipping back into the picture of nonchalance. Bucky’s blue eyes flickered towards yours for a split second before darting away. It had been two weeks since your first ‘lesson’. Two weeks of carefully measured distance, of subtle glances that never lasted too long, of conversations that stayed just professional enough to not raise questions.

Bucky had been doing well—shockingly well, actually. He was receptive to your touch, followed your guidance with careful precision, and was beginning to trust you, bit by bit. You hadn’t gone much further than heated make-out sessions that usually ended with him finishing in his pants, but you weren’t in a rush. You were still feeling out his comfort zones, making sure he never felt cornered or overwhelmed. There wasn’t exactly a handbook for this kind of arrangement.

You slumped in your seat even further, shaking off the feeling. It was fine. No one knew.

Still, the way Bucky avoided looking in your direction made something prickle under your skin.

You were certain the super soldier would combust on the spot if any of his coworkers caught wind of what the two of you had been up to. Hell, he turned red enough just having you perched in his lap during lessons, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. And yet, during meetings, training, or any moment the two of you were forced into the same orbit, you couldn’t help but wonder—did he think about those moments? Did his mind drift back to the ghost of your touch the same way yours did?

You weren’t usually the sentimental type. Nostalgia was a luxury, a foolish indulgence you had long since trained yourself out of. But there was something about him—his quiet hesitance, his wary but willing surrender—that stuck with you. It was a service, nothing more. A transaction in which you gained no tangible benefit, so why did you linger on it? Why did the thought of his gaze meeting yours send a sharp thrill through your chest? Was it because he treated you like a person instead of a tool? Because he understood pieces of you no one else even tried to?

He wasn’t like the others. Never cruel, never greedy. He never reached for more than you offered, never treated you like something to be taken. Maybe that was why you kept coming back. Maybe, for once, you liked the control. Liked the feeling of choosing, of being wanted on your own terms. Of knowing that, for once, you weren’t a marionette dancing on someone else’s strings.

You swallowed the thought down and let your gaze flicker to him. Bucky sat curled in on himself, as if trying to shrink into nothing despite the broadness of his frame. He looked like a wounded animal—no, worse. He looked exhausted. The dark circles beneath his eyes had deepened, his hair unwashed and slightly greasy at the roots. He wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t taking care of himself. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out.

He stared blankly at the grain of the wooden table, shoulders hunched between Steve and Sam, who were deep in conversation about something you didn’t care enough to eavesdrop on. And for reasons you weren’t ready to name, that quiet, hollow stillness of his sat uneasily in your chest.

You had… concerns for Bucky after what he had confessed to you. But you weren’t sure what to do with those concerns. Or those confessions. You held them close to your chest, unwilling to betray his trust, but understanding instead. You knew it was probably irresponsible of you to sit on them, but you didn’t want to overstep. Besides, Steve and Sam didn’t know you. You’d had maybe three conversations with each of them, most of them mission-related. To them, you were just Natasha and Yelena’s friend—Red Room collateral. You weren’t social, you weren’t a part of their circle, and you sure as hell weren’t someone they trusted.

And if they knew about your arrangement with Bucky… well, you didn’t want to think about what conclusions they’d draw—

“Hi!”

The sudden, chirpy voice nearly startled you out of your seat.

Kate Bishop had arrived—loud, bright, and effortlessly excitable, like a golden retriever in human form. She had that kind of energy that made you suspicious. No one was that happy all the time. Her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, messy strands framing her face. She was dressed in casual, slightly dishevelled layers, looking like she had just come from sparring but didn’t have the same dead-in-the-eyes exhaustion you did after a training session.

“I’m Kate!” she announced, beaming at you like you were about to be best friends. She pushed her hand out. “Kate Bishop.”

You blinked at her, ignoring her outstretched offer. “I know.”

Her grin didn’t waver, and she coolly withdrew her hand.

“You’re Clint and Yelena’s pet project.” You spoke again, your tone perhaps a little more hostile than necessary. 

“It’s apprentice, actually.” Yelena cut in before Kate could argue. “You know, you’re starting to hurt my feelings. Stark has an apprentice, so why are you always giving me shit—”

“Oh yes, Stark’s pet project.” You gave an exaggerated sigh. “What was his name? Paxton, Peyton, or was it Parker?”

“Did I ask for your opinion, K.G.B. Barbie?” Tony Stark’s voice cut in lazily as he walked past, sitting at the head of the table like he owned the place—which, unfortunately for you, he did. As usual, he didn’t look pleased to see you, and the scent of entitlement wafted off of him in waves.

You met his gaze evenly. "No, but I was under the impression that unsolicited opinions were your love language, considering the amount your hand out.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Remind me why we let you sit at the big kids’ table again?”

"You don’t." You glanced at Stark, unimpressed. "But I was invited, shockingly enough. Or are you reckless enough to ignore Fury’s instructions now?"

There it was. That smirk. He smirked at you, and you knew in your heart he had the foulest, most cutting rebuke to lay upon you. He hadn’t even opened his mouth, and you were already grinding your teeth in frustration as you stared back at him, eyes locked onto his smug face—

Kate cleared her throat, stepping in before you and Stark could escalate any further. “So, what do you do?”

Stark held his tongue, so in return, you slid your gaze back over to a nervous Kate. And in that moment, you knew you couldn’t help yourself. Natasha had already shot you a warning look, but the redhead's trained patience for the playboy Stark had unfortunately never extended to you. 

"Infiltration, espionage, recon." You shrugged, expression carefully neutral. "I gather information, and then the big boys get to swoop in, throw a few punches, and take all the credit. Isn’t that right, Stark?"

Maybe you had woken up grouchier than usual—not that you could even call the few hours of restless tossing and turning sleep. Or perhaps it was the fact that you’d spent the morning eating the training mat, then had to suffer through Natasha and Yelena’s constant interrogations that had soured your mood. Either way, you weren’t exactly in the best headspace to deal with him.

Truthfully, you thought Stark was a prick, and unfortunately, you had never been exactly shy about that opinion. You and Stark had just never really clicked. Not in the way he had with the others, not in the way Natasha had seamlessly folded herself into the team, or the way Yelena had bulldozed her way in, loud and brash. You existed somewhere in between, tolerated but always lingering on the outside. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along with them. You could banter with Sam, hold an easy conversation with Steve when necessary and trade dry humour with Clint in a way that made you feel almost at home. Even Stark, for all his grating personality, wasn’t always intolerable. But there was always something between you and them—an unspoken distance, a careful line you never crossed. They didn’t entirely trust you yet, and you never gave them a reason to try.

Not because you didn’t want to.

But because trust had never been a luxury you could afford.

Your job was reading people—analysing, dissecting, and manipulating. You understood them better than they understood themselves, saw the cracks in their foundations and knew precisely where to apply pressure. It made you valuable. Indispensable even, but it also made people wary. The team knew what you were, even if they didn’t know the full extent of what you had been. But deep down, you knew they were smart enough to assemble the pieces.

So you kept yourself at arm’s length. You wanted to believe you could have that feeling—belonging. But wanting and trusting were two very different things that you did not dare confuse.

Kate’s eyes lit up. “That’s so cool.”

“That’s a polite way of putting it,” Stark interjected, leaning against the desk. “She’s just a pretty face we send in to distract while the rest of us do the actual work.”

There it was.

Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t rise to the bait. This was your hubris. You could already hear Natasha’s scolding—You really shouldn’t egg him on like that. The two of you are as bad as each other, always trying to get under each other's skin. A bunch of alleycats fighting it’s ridiculous—

Somewhere across the table, Bucky’s eyes had shot up. The movement startled you, and your eyes met briefly. It was milliseconds, maybe not even that, but as soon as you registered your brief exchange, Bucky shied away like a spooked animal.

And when you looked back at Kate, Natasha and Yelena, you found that Natasha had been watching the whole thing. She didn’t speak, didn’t even react. There wasn’t the slightest twitch in her brow or twinge in her lips. She stared like some kind of omnipotent god, and deep down, you knew. You knew she knew. 

Maybe she didn’t know the full extent, but the way she stared… it made you shudder.

Fuck.

Kate, however, frowned, turning back to you. “That’s not true, right?”

“Of course not,” you deadpanned, not letting the dread pooling in your stomach let you miss a beat. “I do much more than look pretty. Sometimes I get to torture people—”

Kate’s face pale, then through several stages of grief, trying to figure out if you were joking. 

You weren’t about to help her.

“Relax, Kate Bishop, she is messing with you,” Yelena said with an amused grin, though it was tight. A silent warning behind her eyes told you to keep your mouth shut.

Kate still looked mildly concerned, but she shook it off quickly. “Okay, but—so you can fight?”

“Of course.”

“Not as well as me,” Yelena cut in before you could elaborate, grinning smugly. “Don’t worry, Kate. You’re being trained by the best of the best. Me? I am the best. You know this.”

You rolled your eyes, and Kate beamed. That girl was too fucking cute for her own good.

The door swung open before anyone could respond to Yelena. Fury stepped inside, long coat sweeping behind him, his boots heavy against the floor. His usual expression—somewhere between perpetually pissed off and quietly judgmental—was firmly in place beneath the shadow of his eyepatch.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Fury said, his voice edged with dry amusement, though his gaze flicked between you all with razor-sharp scrutiny.

"No, sir," Steve said, back straightening. Natasha, ever composed, merely leaned back in her chair. Stark didn’t even spare a glance.

“First off, I’d like to extend my deepest, most heartfelt gratitude for your attendance,” Fury began, spreading his arms in a broad, insincere gesture, his tone so dry it could have turned the room to dust. “I know how much of a hardship it is, taking an hour out of your busy lives to sit in a comfortable chair and listen to me talk.”

Sam snorted. Yelena smirked. Bucky, as usual, remained unreadable.

Fury’s eye landed on you and Bucky before he tossed a slim tablet onto the table, the display already flashing with the text of a mission report you hardly cared to examine in detail.

“Congratulations are in order. The gala infiltration went exceptionally well despite the odds stacked against you.”

You dipped your head in acknowledgement, catching movement out of the corner of your eye—Sam begrudgingly sliding Fury what seemed to be a twenty-dollar bill. Asshole.

Fury tapped the screen embedded in the table, replacing the mission debrief with a new set of images. An aerial view of a club, snippets of surveillance footage, a grainy close-up of a man slipping out of a side entrance, bodyguards in tow.

“And thanks to that intel recovered,” Fury continued, “we now have a location on our next target. Dmitry Karpin. Friend to H.Y.D.R.A. Dealt in smuggling high-profile weapons in and out of Soviet countries for a time, but now he’s taken to smuggling drugs. Serums, to be specific.”

Across the table, Bucky had gone still. Tension coiled in his shoulders, his hands resting stiffly on the surface, knuckles taut. H.Y.D.R.A. Serum. The words alone were enough to suffocate the room when Bucky or Steve were around. You didn’t let your eyes linger on him long nor allow your frown to deepen. 

Fury didn’t acknowledge the shift—maybe he was used to it by now, or perhaps he just didn’t care. His voice remained steady, rolling over the tension in the room as if he were reciting lines from a well-rehearsed script. Karpin’s security detail. The club’s weak points. Entry and exit strategies. The words blurred together, dissolving into background noise beneath the low hum of static in your head. It was hard to focus when you could feel Bucky sitting across from you, motionless, barely even breathing, his whole body locked up like a loaded fucking gun. And the worst part? He probably thought he was doing a good job hiding it.

You didn’t stare, didn’t let your concern show. Instead, you leant back in your chair, tilting your head just enough to feign disinterest. “So, just another fun-filled evening of chatting up sweaty old men for me? Sounds like a dream.” Your voice came out dry, with just enough sarcasm to mask any wobbles. 

Fury didn’t spare you a glance. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself,” he said, tapping the screen again. More grainy footage. More blueprints. The details kept coming, but you barely registered them.

You picked at your thumbnail hard enough that the cuticle began to bleed.

Eventually, the meeting drew to a close. Chairs scraped against the floor as the team rose, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out. You stood, ready to follow, but—

“You two, stick around,” Fury instructed.

You hesitated, glancing at him, then at Bucky, who had also stalled mid-step. Natasha and Yelena exchanged a knowing look, their amusement not at all subtle. You ignored their barely concealed grins as they disappeared through the door.

Fury exhaled, hands bracing against the table as he surveyed the two of you. 

“I’ll be honest,” he said finally. “I wasn’t convinced it would work when I paired you two. Thought maybe you’d kill each other before you got anything done.”

Bucky scoffed quietly, gaze flicking away.

“But you proved me wrong.” His good eye narrowed as he continued. “The mission was a success. You handled yourselves well.”

A beat of silence. Then, just as flatly, “I want to know if you’d be open to working together again. Similar style of operation.”

Your eyes slid over to Bucky, gauging his reaction. You didn’t want to appear too eager or give any more credence to the stories Yelena and Natasha were spinning, but most of all, you didn’t want to put words into Bucky’s mouth. You weren’t in the business of pressuring him in or out of the bedroom. 

Bucky was quiet as if silently working through some thoughts before deciding. Finally, he offered a dismissive “Sure.”

You nodded slowly, offering Fury a nonchalant shrug. “I’m fine with that.”

Fury’s lips twitched. Not quite a smirk.

“Well, that’s the most enthusiasm I’ve heard all day,” he deadpanned before shaking his head. “Damn, you two are depressing. Sitting there all broody, staring at me like I shot your goddamn dog.” 

Neither you nor Bucky reacted, which was met by a low chuckle from Fury. “Regardless, I appreciate the hard work. You made me a nice chunk of money winning some bets.”

Your brow furrowed. “You bet on us?”

Fury raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “Course I did. Had to make it interesting. Half the team thought you’d get caught or kill each other before the first day was up.”

You blinked. “...Who bet against us?”

“Stark.” Fury’s lips twitched again. “He didn’t think you’d make it past security.”

Of course he did. Prick. 

—

"Alright, I’m in position."

You blinked. Bucky sat there like he was awaiting orders, his posture rigid as if he were about to breach enemy lines.  His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure where to put them like touching you required the same level of strategic planning as a high-stakes extraction mission.

You stared, straddling his hips, your fingers ghosting over his collarbone, feeling the tension thrumming beneath his skin. He didn’t quite meet your eyes, his gaze fixed somewhere just past your shoulder as if making direct contact might detonate something neither of you were ready for. For a split second, you half expected him to press a finger to an earpiece and murmur something about securing the perimeter.

In the dim glow of his bedroom, he looked every bit like a man being held hostage rather than one about to receive a very generous favour.

Lately… something felt off. The signs had been subtle at first, the way he always seemed a beat too calculated, his hands found the same places every time, and he would grow still like he was waiting for a command. 

And now, looking at him, so wound-up he might actually vibrate, it finally clicked.

Every touch and kiss was executed with the precision of a soldier running a drill rather than a man lost in the moment. It was methodical. He was analysing a strategy rather than experiencing pleasure. You half expected to glance down and see him taking notes—touch here, kiss there, don’t forget to do this. The thought horrified you, but if you were honest… it also amused you. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

“…Bucky, are you seriously treating this like a mission?”

He stiffened beneath you, his reaction just a fraction too quick, too defensive.

“What’d you mean?” His voice was steady, but there was an edge. He was already on guard, bracing for imaginary discipline. 

“The way you’re…” You trailed off, head inclining as you studied him. His jaw was clenched, brows drawn tight, the creased skin between them betraying him entirely. One could mistake him for a soldier behind enemy lines, waiting for the crack of a rifle. There were dark smudges under his eyes, no worse than usual. You knew he didn’t sleep well. Nightmares haunted him and left him running on fumes more often than not. You recognised the signs, and it was like you were looking into a mirror. 

“It’s like you have a mental checklist,” you murmured, watching for his reaction. “Like every move you make is planned like you’re running through a strategy in your head instead of just… feeling it.”

Bucky remained silent, his lips pressing into a firm line.

Gently, you squeezed his shoulder, fingertips pressing into hard muscle. He was tense—too tense. “You’re not clearing a building, Bucky. You’re not scanning for threats. You’re here with me. Just relax a little, won’t you?”

“I am relaxed.” He bit the words out, though neither his voice nor expression were even remotely convincing.

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I appreciate the attempt to lie, but when I can feel the fucking tension in your body, it’s a little, well, very obvious.” Your hands traced along his shoulders, fingers kneading into the tight knots beneath the fabric of his shirt. His muscles were rock-solid, never fully uncoiled. His body had forgotten how to rest.

“See?” You gave a pointed squeeze. “This is not ‘relaxed,’ Bucky. This is as solid as a goddamn steel beam.”

Bucky scoffed a tiny huff of air through his nose. “Those are my muscles. I work out. Don’t you?”

You gasped in mock delight, lips parting in exaggerated shock. “Oh my God. Did you just make a joke? Bucky, was that a joke?”

Something flickered in his expression for the first time, a sliver of amusement breaking through the ever-present brooding. He finally met your gaze, eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners, and the sight sent a flicker of warmth through your chest.

You grinned. “Well, isn’t that a first? Guess I should mark the calendar.”

His smirk was brief, fleeting—but it was there.

You softened, your voice dropping just a little. “But seriously, you need to loosen up.” Your hands smoothed over his shoulders, slow and deliberate.“Attraction, desire… sex. It’s messy, it’s unplanned. It’s not a mission. This isn’t the army.” 

You didn’t dare say the following words in your mind aloud. 

This isn’t H.Y.D.R.A. 

But you knew that was where his thoughts drifted, that unspoken trouble that plagued you both. Your fingers ghosted along the silver chain at his throat, the faint jingle of his dog tags barely audible under the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to follow orders. You can just be.”

“I know.” The words came low, rough, frayed at the edges. You could feel yourself losing him, his eyes growing foggy as if pulled away to a place you couldn’t quite reach to drag him out from.

“I just…” Another breath, deeper this time, as though steadying himself. “They used me. For so long, they used me as a weapon. I don’t know if I can ever be anything different than that. I don’t want to lose control—what happens if I lose—”

“Hey.” Your hands framed his face now, thumbs brushing against the sharp angles of his cheekbones, anchoring him. “Hey, look at me.”

His eyes lifted, hesitant, guarded.

“You are more than that.” The words were gentle but unwavering, as steady as your hands on him. “We are more than that, okay? You’re Bucky. Just Bucky. And you are in control. Say it.”

His fingers curled against your thighs, knuckles pressing into the cotton fabric of your shorts. He was quiet momentarily as though testing the words in his mind before speaking them aloud. Then, slowly, he nodded.

“I’m in control.”

“You’re in control.” You echoed, smoothing your thumb over the faint stubble on his cheek. “And you still want to do this?”

His breath was slow, deliberate. “Yes.”

Your fingers had drifted higher, threading into his hair, the strands silky and cool beneath your touch. You swept a loose lock from his forehead, letting your fingertips linger against his temple. “And if you don’t want this at any point, what do you say?”

“Stop.”

“And what will happen if you say that?”

“You’ll stop. We’ll stop.”

“Good.” You praised him, your smile widening as you felt him squirm beneath you. There was a subtle hitch in his breath as your hands began to trail lower, palms smoothing down to his chest. The pulse at his throat fluttered beneath your fingertips, quick and uneven, betraying the calm he was trying to hold onto. You leant closer, your breath warm against his skin as you pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his temple. Then lower—to the sharp line of his cheekbone, the edge of his jaw, and finally to the hollow of his throat. A shudder ran through him, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.” He uttered after a thick, audible swallow.

You pulled back just enough to study him, to see how his lips parted slightly as though chasing the warmth of your touch. A quiet, almost reluctant noise rumbled in his chest, just shy of a whine. You traced your fingers along his jaw before tilting your head, considering him. “I want to try something.” You hummed to him. “You can say no if it’s too much, but I think it might help you.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah?”

“I want to blindfold you—”

“You want to what?” He went rigid beneath you, every muscle tightening again as if you’d flipped a switch and snapped him back into defence mode.

“Hold on, just let me finish.” You held up your hand, hoping to counteract his immediate, instinctive reaction.

He huffed, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off the response, but said nothing. 

“I want to blindfold you,” you repeated, slower this time, words deliberate. “And I want to kiss you. And touch you. I want you to focus on feeling good rather than anticipating something bad. I want you to just… be here with me. Not thinking about what comes next, not waiting for an attack. Just focusing on feeling. That’s all.”

His expression was cautious before turning to contemplation—as though weighing the idea against everything instinct told him.

“You can say no,” you reminded him gently.

“No, I—” He hesitated, his fingers twitching against your hips.

You shifted back just a little, offering him the space to decide. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do it.”

“No, I—shit—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I mean—no, I want to. Yes. I want to try that.”

Your gaze searched his. “You’re sure?”

His lips pressed together, and then he nodded once, firmly. “Yes.”

You grinned, pressing a sloppy, lingering kiss to his temple before slipping off his lap with ease and rolling onto the bed beside him. “Do you have something we could use?”

“Uh, I don’t—”

“Like a tie, maybe? You wear suits, right? Or does Stark demand them back the second you step foot in the compound?”

Bucky let out a huff, eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to talk about Stark right now.”

You shot him a knowing look, but before you could tease him further, your gaze flickered downward—and you smirked. Even through the soft material of his sweatpants, you could see he was already half-hard. “Sure.”

A faint flush crept up his neck, staining his ears and cheeks pink. He cleared his throat, voice rough. “Top drawer. In the wardrobe.”

You were on your feet before he could finish, slipping into his walk-in wardrobe. Every apartment in the compound had one, though Bucky’s was noticeably bare. His clothes were monochrome, muted shades of grey, navy, and black. No bursts of colour. No sign of impulse. It was not a lack of wealth. You knew that for sure. No, this was intentional—a desire to blend in, to disappear.

You’d always known he was the type who preferred the shadows, slipping between crowds unnoticed. No wonder he hated the tailored suits Stark and Fury forced him into—arm issues aside. For some reason, S.H.I.E.L.D. were determined to parade him around. Look, the Winter Soldier. He’s a good boy now. He plays nice. Nothing to fear anymore. You were unsure how he felt about such displays, but you were sure it wasn’t too far off from how you felt about it. You had once been in his shoes, though more in the eye candy territory. A doll to dress up and play with, to smile and play the part.

Powerful men enjoyed degrading that which they knew to be dangerous, enjoyed playing with fire, and enjoyed the illusion of control. 

Shaking off the thought, you pulled open the top drawer, sifting through a few neatly folded ties. You selected a smooth black silk, running the cool fabric over your palm before returning to the bedroom.

Bucky was still seated at the edge of the bed, stiff as a board. His hands curled into fists atop his thighs, knuckles taut. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

You slowed, holding the tie between your fingers like approaching a spooked animal. Visible to inspect and assess. No threat.

“Yes?” you asked, giving him another chance to change his mind.

His jaw tightened, but he gave a short nod. “Yes.”

You smiled softly. “Just breathe, yeah? Like we always do.” You inhaled deeply through your nose, then exhaled slowly and steadily through your mouth.

After a beat, Bucky mirrored you, chest rising and falling with measured breaths.

You moved behind him, settling onto the bed. He sat still, poised for an attack. Carefully, you draped the silk tie over his eyes, looping it around his head and securing it with a loose knot. It wasn’t tight—one purposeful tug and it would slip free.

You could feel the tension radiating from him. Even blindfolded, he was hyper-aware, attuned to every rustle of the sheets, every shift of your weight. His breathing had turned shallower, the serum sharpening every sound, every sensation.

“If you need to stop for any reason, just say so.”

He jolted slightly at your voice, caught off guard in the quiet. “O-okay.” His voice wavered, and then he cursed low under his breath in Russian.

You grinned. Some habits died hard.

“I’m going to touch you now.” You crept closer, lifting onto your knees behind him. “Just focus on me and how it feels. Nothing else. Can you do that?”

He gave a slow, hesitant nod.

You started at his shoulders, palms skimming over firm muscle, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Every dip and ridge, every knot of tension. Your hands slid to his collarbone, then across the joint where flesh met metal, mapping out the contrast between warm skin and the smooth, cold vibranium.

He was solid beneath your touch, every muscle taut and solid as it stretched across the bone.

You had noticed the way his shoulders gave him grief. The slight tilt of his frame and the way his left arm always sat heavier. It was incorrect weight distribution; the metal limb was too heavy compared to its flesh counterpart. S.H.I.E.L.D had surely offered him physical therapy—massages, treatment plans—but you doubted he had ever taken them up on it. He didn’t like to be touched by strangers. Too wary. Too untrusting. 

“Can I take off your shirt?” you asked softly.

He stilled.

“I don’t—” His voice was lower now, rougher. “My scars. They’re not—”

“I don’t care about that.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t?”

“No,” you said firmly. “Why would I?” 

Without a word, his hand reached behind his head, gripping the collar of his shirt. He yanked it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing the fabric to the floor. You adjusted the blindfold where it had shifted, then let your gaze drift over the broad expanse of his back.

His shoulders were massive, sculpted with muscle. The scars on his left shoulder were brutal—jagged lines of gnarled tissue where the vibranium met flesh. It might have been seamless after the amputation. Painless even. But it had been H.Y.D.R.A who had ruined him, left scars so deep even the Wakandans couldn’t erase.

And H.Y.D.R.A didn’t care for comfort. They cared for necessity. Likely, you suspected, they had wanted him to suffer.

An endless reminder of their ownership.

You swallowed, then placed your hands on his shoulders again, thumbs pressing gently into the base of his neck. You started slow, careful, massaging along the muscle, working your way down. His skin was warm beneath your palms, the mass taut and unyielding at first, like stone beneath your fingers. But you took your time, applying gradual pressure, thumbs circling into the knots built over time.

Beneath your hands, Bucky let out a low, guttural sound—a half-growl, half-sigh of approval. His head dipped forward slightly, chin brushing his chest, an unspoken invitation to continue.

You kept going, kneading deep into the knots in his shoulders, feeling the tension resist before you coaxed it loose. With each press and roll of your fingers, the stiffness unravelled like a cord being undone, thread by thread. You worked methodically, digging your thumbs along the curve where his neck met his shoulders, pressing firmly enough to elicit another low, unconscious groan from him.

You bit back a smile as you felt him lean into you just a little.

Trailing downward, you traced the slope of his shoulder blades, following the ridges of tendons and old wounds. The scars on his left side were tougher, the tissue uneven where flesh met metal, but you didn’t hesitate. Your fingers brushed the seam between the vibranium and skin, then continued downward, thumbs pressing slow, firm circles along the fuse.

Bucky shuddered.

His breath hitched as you dug into the deep-seated strain along his spine. A sharp inhale, a low exhale—he was losing himself to the sensation, surrendering to your touch. You didn’t rush. You worked him slowly, thoroughly, feeling him yield with each measured stroke. When you reached the dip of his lower back, you flattened your hands, smoothing over the tightness that lingered. He was warm now, his skin melting like wax beneath your fingers.

Satisfied, you finally pulled back, smoothing your hands along his spine one last time before shifting your position.

Rising onto your knees, you moved around him, hands trailing over his shoulders as you slid into his lap. His breath stuttered, but he didn’t pull away. You settled against him, straddling his lap, your arms draping lazily over his shoulders. The blindfold was still secure, and he looked… calmer now. Less wound up, his jaw no longer locked so tightly.

“You okay?” You murmured.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you hummed, tilting your head, lips just inches from his ear. “I think you needed that.”

Bucky exhaled a breathy, almost disbelieving laugh, but he didn’t deny it.

Your fingers trailed up the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly against the short hairs, and you felt him shiver beneath you. You leaned in, lips brushing over his cheekbone, just at the edge of the blindfold, before trailing downward. You kissed along his jaw, soft and teasing, pressing your lips into the warm skin beneath his ear, down the column of his throat.

His hands fidgeted at his sides, tightening around the sheets. Then, as if giving in to some internal battle, they rose—hesitant but desperate. His fingers found your waist, sliding over the curve of your hips before gripping tight.

You grinned against his skin.

“There you go,” you murmured, voice a breath of silk against his throat.

A sharp exhale left him, his fingers tightening, pressing you closer, holding you in place. You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up before pressing your lips to his.

Bucky groaned into the kiss.

It was soft at first, your mouth moving against his, teasing, coaxing him deeper. But it wasn’t long before he cracked. The tension he had held onto for so long—his control, his restraint—it frayed at the edges with every pass of your lips against his. You pressed closer, shifting in his lap, and the moment your hips rolled against him, his breath stuttered.

A broken sound escaped him, part groan, part whimper.

You did it again just to hear it.

His hands flexed against your sides, his hold firm, frantic, but he didn’t stop you. He only breathed harder, his forehead falling against yours as you peppered kisses along his lips, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Then you moved again, grinding against him slowly, carefully, and Bucky outright whimpered.

He made no effort to stop you—no attempt to control the rhythm, no resistance left in him. His mind was no longer caught in the tangle of right and wrong, of what he should or shouldn’t do.

He only felt.

Only responded.

You kissed him again, deeper, fiercer this time, and he met you with equal hunger.

Bucky’s hands roamed, sliding up your back. Then, his vibranium hand found your face, cradling it between cool, unyielding metal, and you shivered at the contrast—the bite of cold against your flushed skin, the sheer strength in his hold, barely restrained.

He kissed you like he was starving.

You sighed into his mouth, rolling your hips down to meet his, and he groaned—deep and guttural as his body jerked beneath you. He was fully hard now, the evidence pressing against you through his sweatpants, and you couldn't help the soft, breathy giggle that escaped between kisses.

Bucky growled, his grip tightening, his body chasing yours as you rocked against him.

Your hand trailed down, slipping between your bodies, fingers teasing along the waistband of his sweatpants. You could feel the heat of him, the way his breath hitched as your fingertips ghosted lower—

Then he flinched, catching your wrist in a shaky grip.

“Too much,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper, but the strain was evident.

Immediately, you withdrew, pulling your hand away without hesitation. “I’m sorry. Do you want to stop—”

“No.” he replied quickly, breathlessly.

You cupped his jaw, kissing him slowly, tenderly, as he shuddered beneath you. His hands flexed where they held you, his body still trembling with need, but he didn’t pull away. You kept your movements soft and gentle, pressing your forehead against his, letting him breathe as you kissed him repeatedly. 

“Is this better?” you checked in between kisses, voice warm, reassuring.

“Yes.” He muttered against your lips.

You kissed him deeper, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip and into his mouth.

His body convulsed beneath you, hips twitching up to meet yours, his breath turning shallow and erratic. You could feel the tremors coursing through him, his muscles tensed, his restraint crumbling with every slow, dragging roll of your hips.

Then, with a choked groan, he stiffened.

A broken moan tore from his throat as he came, his body shuddering beneath you. His breath hitched, then stilled, his head falling back onto the bed as he panted heavily, completely spent.

You smiled, watching his chest rise and fall, his body finally wholly relaxed.

You let him catch his breath, your hands smoothing over his chest in slow, soothing strokes. His eyes were still covered, the black silk of the tie snug against his skin, and for a moment, you just watched him—his expression relaxed in a way it so rarely was, his lips parted as he inhaled deep, steadying himself.

Reaching up, you brushed your fingers over his jaw before carefully undoing the knot at the back of his head. The tie slipped away with ease, and his eyes fluttered open, blinking as he adjusted to the room's dim light. His pupils were blown, irises hazy, but there was something else. Softness. An openness you didn’t often see.

“Hey,” you whispered.

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “Hey.”

You leant down, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple before shifting off of him, allowing him to breathe. He hesitated momentarily before sitting up, his movements slow, almost reluctant. His sweatpants were clinging damply to his skin, and he grimaced slightly before rubbing a hand over his face.

“I should, uh—” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, watching as he climbed off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. The soft sound of running water followed soon after. You stayed where you were, fingers idly playing with the silk tie as you listened, giving him the space to clean up and gather himself.

When he returned, his sweatpants had been swapped for a fresh pair, the fabric hanging loose around his hips. His hair was damp in uneven patches where he’d raked wet fingers through it, a lazy attempt at tidying up. He lingered in the doorway, weight shifting from one foot to the other, eyes flickering over you like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

You patted the empty space beside you. “Come here.”

His shoulders loosened just a fraction before he climbed back onto the bed, settling beside you with a quiet sigh. He was warm—solid and steady. Without thinking, you nestled closer, resting your head against his chest. His arm came around you automatically, like muscle memory, pulling you in and holding you there.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, barely above a whisper, you asked, “Did you like it?”

Bucky exhaled a deep, slow breath. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice lower than usual, like he wasn’t used to saying it. “I did.”

You smiled, tracing absentminded circles against his chest. “What did you like about it?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his fingers toying with the hem of your shirt. When he finally spoke, his voice was careful.

“It made it easier,” he murmured. “Not seeing. I could just… feel. Focus on what was happening instead of everything else.” His thumb brushed lightly against your side. “Didn’t have to worry about if I was doing something wrong.”

You frowned slightly, tilting your head up to look at him. “Bucky, you’ve never done anything wrong.”

“I know,” he said, but his voice was tight, a shadow crossing his expression. “It’s just—” He stopped, mouth pressing into a thin line.

You reached up, smoothing a hand over his cheek. “Talk to me.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Then, so quietly you almost missed it, he said, “I’m scared of it sometimes.”

Your brows furrowed. “Scared of what?”

“Pleasure.”

His fingers tightened slightly against your side like he was bracing himself, but he didn’t look away from you.

“I was taught…” He inhaled sharply. “That it could only be taken. Taken from me. That it was never given freely.” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. “That it wasn’t mine to have.”

Slowly, carefully, you sat up, shifting so you were fully facing him. He looked at you, expression guarded, but there was something vulnerable beneath it, something fragile in the way he held himself.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Those people, the ones who taught you that, they were trying to hurt you, degrade you,” you told him firmly. “Pleasure is to be shared equally. It’s something you deserve.” You squeezed his hand, your voice softening.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to do anything to earn it,” you whispered.

He swallowed hard, his grip on your hand tightening. His voice was barely above a breath when he said, “I don’t know if I know how.”

You smiled softly. “That’s okay. We have time.”

You lifted his hand again, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles before settling back down beside him. His warmth seeped into you, but the ache in your chest remained—persistent, lingering. It had nothing to do with exhaustion, the tension in your muscles, or even the way your body still hummed with remnants of touch. No, this ache came from somewhere deeper, from the thoughts unravelling in your mind like a loose thread tugged too far, too fast as you contemplated his confession. 

You had always been a giver. That was your role, your purpose. You gave and gave until there was nothing left. Until you were hollow inside. And yet, the world kept asking for more. You wondered if, over time, it had chipped away at your soul, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

The words left your lips before you could stop them, before you had the chance to weigh whether you truly wanted to say them aloud.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not… whole?”

Bucky turned his head slightly, his brows furrowing in the low light, lids heavy as he blinked his dark lashes. He didn’t press or demand, didn’t look at you as if he needed clarification. He just waited, silently, like he knew you weren’t finished.

So you kept going.

“Like with every mission, every fight, every demand, you lose something? A tiny piece of yourself, given away without even realising it?” Your voice dropped lower. Bucky was still beside you, completely still, only his breath tickling your cheek with each slow rise and fall of his chest.

“I don’t even know if I’m still the person I was when I was born or if I’ve just been rebuilt from borrowed parts. Pieces given to me, made for me, shaped to fit what I was supposed to become.” You exhaled a sharp breath. “Or maybe… what they wanted me to become.”

The words were bitter on your tongue, and yet they kept coming.

“And I think… maybe I’m afraid that if I ever showed the real me, the world would reject me. That they’d be disgusted by my soul. By everything I have done.”

A shaky breath left your lips, your voice barely more than a whisper now.

“Because sometimes… sometimes I think the only way people will keep me around is if I give them something in return.”

Silence.

You turned your head toward him, searching his face, waiting for something—anything—that would tell you what he was thinking. You hoped for a look, a breath, a word to ground you. But as your gaze swept over him, you realised his breathing had evened out, his lashes fluttering softly against his cheeks. The sharp furrow of his brow had smoothed, his lips slightly parted in a way that spoke of exhaustion finally pulling him under.

Asleep.

Your words had been lost to him.

You weren’t sure if that was a relief or a disappointment.

Maybe it was for the best. He needed the rest, the peace of slumber more than you did. Even now, in the soft glow of the room, dark circles remained etched beneath his eyes.

You let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling momentarily before carefully slipping out of bed. You moved with quiet precision, gathering your things without making a sound. When you reached the door, you hesitated, glancing back.

For a second, a small, selfish part of you wished he had—wished he had heard you, had held you, had given you something, anything, to quiet the storm inside your chest. But he hadn’t.

And maybe that meant you could take the words back.

Tuck them away for another time.

Or hold onto them forever, maybe all you had needed was to say them aloud, even if only silence itself was listening.

Bucky didn’t stir from his slumber, not even when the door clicked shut behind you.

PART THREE

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taglist: @civilbucky @buckysbbydoll @rosegarbage @fleurenoir @oikarma @blackstabbath6 @kcbug1128 @ellesbellswrites @thaynarajejheje @wunder-blunder @oceanaroma @dyscalculiaaa @murdocklvrr @pursuedbyamemoryy @fantasyheroine @chronicallybubbly @nikkinss @maryevm @doilooklikeagiveafrack (sorry if it didn't tag anyone properly)

[rawme-price]

Please please please please expand on the immortal!reader series, it’s such an interesting take on immortality!

So, immortal!reader has experienced pain beyond anything a normal person could ever survive, right? If theres a way to be hurt, you've felt it.

Which means your pain tolerance is through the fucking roof, and as a side affect so is your reference for what others consider painful. Ur not totally unaware, but you kind of think a sprained wrist or fractured rib is just above normal pain.

This misunderstanding is realized by the team in the most unfortunate way. Everyone is slowly coming to terms with ur immortality, and you still run drills and exercises with them, right? Well price decides everyone needs more practice sparring. He pairs you against soap and says "now dont hold back, alright?" After you had mentioned how you tend to go light on spars.

You nod, and price assumes youll maybe start taking it seriously. He expects ghost levels of combat, if hes honest. He does not expect for you to bully ur way into soaps space, sweep his feet out, and fucking stomp on his chest.

A loud crack is overshadowed by soaps pained shout. In an instant hands are on you pulling you back, and price is yelling at someone to get a medic. When he sees gaz dip down to comfort soap, all of prices anger turns to you. "What the bloody hell was that?!"

"What?!" Youre instantly on the defensive, hackles raised from how ghost is restraining you. "You fuckin told me not to hold back! Its not like I punctured a lung or anything, thats just a fracture!"

"just a bloody fracture?" Price looks back at where soap is breathing labouredly, hand in a death grip over gazs wrist. Your captain looks back at you with a thick layer of disappointment and contempt "if thats what you think is normal conduct for a spar, you leave me no choice but to bench you from further training. You dont talk to or aid subordinates, you dont train with peers, you dont touch anyone without my say so first. Got it?"

A sick feeling crawls up your chest. Youre not stupid and neither is price, training is basically 90% of social life outside of ops. Hes basically making you a social outcast, and you cant even blame him. Not with the way soap somehow still hasn't recovered, guilt curls around you at how much pain he seems to be in. With a nod, you cast your gaze down.

"Affirmative, captain."

[pinazee]

Shawn takes a shot in the dark

*in the style of beatboxing* ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST!

This has to be one of their most jarring title switches haha *gus horrified* “ohmygod, shawns been shot” *fun guitar music* “IN BETWEEN THE LINES-“

Let me tell ya’ll my 13 year old self was all over this ep. I mean my fave going through the turmoils and all the others are searching for him and fretting over his safety?!?!! Oh i ate that shit up so much! This was definitely my most rewatched ep as a kid (sometimes i would watch it sneakily so my family didn’t think i was psychotic) genuinely, i think this is the ep that made me look for fanfiction because i was like, surely someone has expanded on this right?!?! And lo and behold! This is my fanfiction origin story.

But seriously, it was bound to happen. Shawn and Gus just show up in places they shouldn’t be all the time and have already had multiple guns pointed at them. This is the first time he hasnt been able to talk or think himself out of, though. All he can do is try to escape and theres a genuine fear that comes across which helps ground the situation while still giving us enough humor to keep it light hearted (“note to self: call hefty with commercial idea.”)

Okay okay okay, the crime- is actually pretty solid and the way shawn figured it out and how the others followed his breadcrumbs was great. No notes.

But man shawn was just completely out of luck this ep, over and over. He shows up to check out a lead and gets shot and kidnapped, accidentally calls gina repach (who i cant wait to see again) and uses his one chance to make a call, manages to escape and takes off into the forest, eludes him for the whole night until he stumbles across a gas station that just so happens to be their hideout and gets hit over the head and kidnapped all over again, his dad and lassie find him but he cant say anything because hes getting choked, manages to get unbound but answers a call from gina instead, finally gets ahold of juliet only to have to talk in code and leave an awkward message. Terrible, terrible luck the whole ep.

This is one of my favorite shots in the series! Its so cool and sells the horror without showing the impact or even the reaction. Phenomenal work!

Alright, so because this ep is about survival, i looked up some actual techniques when you’re getting chased in the woods! One: run as fast as you can initially but if your assailant is persistent you’ll need to slow down and pace yourself. Two: if you’re in the woods run downhill or downstream. If theres a hiding space you may be able to use it to recover but be aware that your assailant could also find it like you did. Three: look for ways to increase distance if you can. The goal is to get your assailant to lose sight of you so you can hide until they stop pursuing. Theres also ways to get out of duct tape!

Meemees fluff and hold made me wanna move into commercial zones but this is not a viable way to live. However, doesnt this show how handy shawn really is? He must have renovated the fluff and fold, installed a shower, fixed the floors and the walls etc. screw it, im putting basic carpentry down as one of his skills

Humor is how he copes okay! Is this where he becomes canonically ADD? It comes across as a joke but ill take it

A flesh wound is defined as: an injury involving penetration of the body musculature without damage to bones or internal organs. I find it hard to believe that he shot his shoulder and managed not to hit the scapula at the very least.

Lets talk about the chase!!!

Hilarious to me that this bad guy absolutely cannot keep shawn tied up whatsoever! Its not his fault really. They just so happened to kidnap the one of probably two guys in santa barbara who have studied and practiced for those exact scenarios.

Welcome all again always pumps me up and makes me think of this ep

Shawn has never been so cool than in this moment. Im pretty sure lassies seat was wet. Hes shooting from the hood of a moving vehicle, using his non-dominant and injured arm and hit his target! It gets rarer in later seasons to see shawn showcase his skills but extreme competency is sexy as hell and i wont apologize for that.

Ooo but also theres an alternate reality where henry didnt shove this cop stuff down shawns throat and he actually did become a detective and they worked together on the force. Papa and baby spencer a united detective duo.

Nah they’d probably “accidentally” shoot one another first

Should i talk about Shawn having to confess he loved “Abigail” to juliet? Awkward. She clearly was on the verge of saying something back… love triangles man, theyre a bitch. I love how they do it though, because Juliet isn’t doing things out of jealousy or trying to “steal” Shawn from her, but they still make it clear that she’s interested and a little bummed, like how awkward she is around Abigail, pointing out the toothbrush at Shawn’s place etc

I wish we’d seen Abigails reaction to this whole thing. Like, we’re at the end right, and shawns in the hospital or something and juliet goes to talk to him about it but theyre cut short when abigail shows up and juliet leaves and abigail gives him a hug and shawn watches her go but then clasps abigail back tightly because he actually really needed a freaking hug after all that.

Hmm. Anyways thats basically what i imagine happened later

P.S SHAWN AND HENRY ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON

[tizeline]

Oh boy, at this point I feel that the truth is gonna chew Mikey hard after discovering they are actually the bad guys. Side note: I know Raph and Mikey are gonna struggle at first to accept the truth and even more to accept that Splinter and April aren't evil… but when and how is gonna Mikey really START to accept this? because I feel theres more chances with Raph than with Mikey

Okay, so this is what I've worked out so far regarding Mikey's redemption arc-

Like in canon, after the season 1 finale and Draxum gets fucked up by The Dark Armor and then also becomes wanted in The Hidden City, he (plus his kids) ends up finding and settling down in that apartment in April's building (the idea of them accidentally becoming April's neighbours is hilarious so I'm keeping that lmao). Then Leo enters his Rebellious Teen Arc and runs off to hang out with Donnie and April most of the time, eventually he's joined by Raph too so then it's mostly just Mikey and Draxum brooding in their apartment all day. It's during this time that Draxum spends some time self-reflecting and eventually decides to abandon their plans of world domination, much to Mikey's dismay who is still very much in the mood to end humanity.

It's hard pinpointing an exact starting point of Mikey realizing that he's been in the wrong, deep down I think he already know this, but he'll be damned if he actually aknowledges it. But it's around this part of the story that things start turning around for Mikey. Because when Draxum announces that it's over and they're done with trying to take over the world, Mikey gets pretty pissed about it and decides that he's ALSO gonna go all Rebellious Teenager on them all! See how they like THAT! BTW Mikey's "Rebellious" Teen Arc mostly includes him spending more time sulking outside than in the apartment as he previously did, and acting a bit more cranky towards Draxum, but he still returns home at a reasonable time in the evening and in general doesn't do anything he isn't allowed to do. He's not very good at being a bad kid haha. (If anything, Draxum thinks it's good that Mikey spends some time outside)

I've mentioned before that I like the idea of introducing Mondo Gecko and Woody Dirkins into the story and that they could help him in his character development and expand his world view (also godammit Mikey needs some friends aside from his brothers) So anyway, it's when Mikey starts spending time outside on his own that he meets and, after some time, befriends both of them. I don't have the details figured out here, but I'm thinking that he first gets to know Mondo considering he's a yōkai/mutant (haven't decided which). Mondo would already be friends with Woody which is how Mikey later meets him, when Mondo introduces them to each other. Mikey is obviously Skeptical at first, but Woody gives him free pizza so Mikey is all like "okay, maybe he sucks slightly less than other humans". All of this is to say, Woody is probably what leads to Mikey actually confronting the fact that he MIGHT be wrong about some things.

It's still very much a gradual change. It's around the end of season 2 that the Draxum family all reconcile with each other, and while Mikey is still not very fond of the Hamatos (especially Donnie lol) or humans, he doesn't wish for their demise anymore. Then it's some time after the events of the movie that Mikey fully commits himself to not judge people merely on them being humans or yōkai.

[inamagicalhallucination]

bsd spoilers [look away if u dont wanna be spoiled for the new chapter]

i might expand on this later, but

in the atsushi vs vampire!akutagawa fight, we see a lot of change in atsushi. atsushi's character in the manga is introduced as a character who's scared and unsure but is fighting desperately to prove their worth to deserve life while also kind of wanting to die

although atsushi constantly puts himself in harm to save others, he fights to save himself just as much -- his introduction is him jumping in after dazai (putting himself in harm) but he manages to get them both to safety

he jumps off after kyouka, but means and succeeds in ripping the bomb off and saving her --- its all very proactive

in comparison, when he's fighting vampire akutagawa, his approach is very different

he's more not exactly passive, but uhhh passive

he can fight akutagawa back, he knows, this, he could probably find a way to restrain him, but he doesn't. he relies on his words and the belief that akutagawa will somehow be reached; in a way, i think he's trying to prove that akutagawa is still there, his words r for the akutagawa thats trapped inside, but theyre also a reassurance to himself that akutagawa is still alive;; either way, he's solely relying on his words and emotions, and he's not giving up his life, but he's also not fighitng for it

i don't think this makes him weak, i think it shows growth in his character; atsushi needs to save others to save himself, but he's terrified of dying too -- we see him want to run away and doubt himself constantly, but in that moment, he's there, he's not fighting but he's not giving up

i think this shows a. his growth in trusting others --- he's literally fangs to the neck, but he's trusting that if akutagawa is there, it'll be okay --- and the if akutagawa is there thing only works when he fully 100% trusts akutagawa himself to not have any ill intent towards him. he's trusting akutagawa fully. b. his approach to problems, he's not running away or scared, he's taking it head on, but he's also grown into someone who can approach a problem with his words, he's able to see akutagawa's there, he's able to find ways to reach him, and sure in the end akutagawa's lovingly grazing his neck with his fangs, but i honestly feel like atsushi would've continued yapping till the end and would have gotten through to him somehow even if bram hadnt been freed

and then right now [this is where the spoilers come in so seriously look away]

atsushi breaking through the 4th dimensional plain through his bare hands, shows physical growth

he's finally embracing the whole the tiger claws can cut through anything

but he's also physically stronger, more aware of his capabilities, he's trusting himself, he's not second guessing

atsushi vs vampire aku was a show of atsushi's emotional growth

and i think this fight was a show of his growth as a fighter -- he's not magically getting a boost, but he's relying on his abilities without anyone telling him

theres no headmaster in his head in that moment telling him to break the dimension and then break through and save akutagawa --- its all atsushi.

atsushi from a little while ago would have been paralyzed wondering what he could do; and then the part of him that would've analyzed the situation and figured it out, but would have taken the shape of dazai to inform him

like the hallucination says --- this is all information atsushi knows -- but becuz he forever doubts himself and his capabilities, he needs to rely on another face

but this atsushi just goes for it, he analyzes, he understands and he acts, no headmaster, no dazai

just atsushi.

and who do both of these examples of character growth revolve around? akutagawa

becuz from the beginning akutagawa brings out the worst and the best of atsushi

[arminreindl]

Sissokosuchus: Expanding Africa's Notosuchian Record

We got a fascinating new croc on our hands, tho I'll be the first to admitt that its actual material is much less interesting than the implications that come with it. Meet Sissokosuchus maliensis (Sissoko's crocodile from Mali), a new genus of itasuchid notosuchian from the Early Cretaceous (Aptian to Albian) of, well, Mali.

Like I said, the material itself isn't much to look at I admitt, multiple specimens and yet we don't even have a complete skull, but the material is enough to give us some general ideas. Most importantly is arguably the fact that the lower jaw is rather narrow while the overall snout is roughly triangular and platyrostral, i.e. its flattened like in modern crocs. These are hallmarks of a group of notosuchians known as the Itasuchidae (or Pepesuchinae is you ask other people). Classically, itasuchids are regarded as a South American group, where most of their diversity is from. But recent works has suggested that they might have ranged into Africa too, with the enigmatic Stolokrosuchus and the peirosaurid Rukwasuchus both recovered as early branching members of the family in this newest study as well as last year's description of Epoidesuchus. Sissokosuchus is a bit more derived still than these two, and together these three significantly expand on the record of notosuchians from continental Africa, which previously consisted of canidodontids, mahajangasuchids, uruguaysuchids and of course peirosaurids.

Epoidesuchus by Guilherme Gehr, not from Africa but it gives you a general idea of itasuchids.

In addition to expanding the notosuchian record, the paper also draws up an interesting hypothesis for the geography of Mali during this part of the Cretaceous. Summarized, the Continental Intercalaire of Mali may represent the downstream part of a larger West African river system known as the Paleo-Tegama River System, which is formed by various rivers coming from the east and south and eventually empties into the Tethys Sea in the north. While Sissokosuchus is from the northern downstream part, the upstream region is preserved through the famed formations of the Tegama Group, namely the Elrhaz and Echkar Formations of Niger. Both Formations are well known for their fossils, including Nigersaurus, Suchomimus, Ouranosuchus and yes Spinosaurus. They are also well known for their crocodile material, featuring giant neosuchians like Sarcosuchus and Elosuchus, the bizarre Laganosuchus, small uruguaysuchids like Anatosuchus and the ever present Araripesuchus (which is found in both formations) and of course my personal favourite Kaprosuchus.

Left: A map of West Africa during the Early Cretaceous Right: Sarcosuchus taking down an abelisaur by Sergey Krasovskiy

So even if the material itself isn't mindblowing, Sissokosuchus goes a long way at improving our understanding of notosuchian paleogeography, their diversity in Africa and the paleogeography and environment of Early Cretaceous West Africa.

Wikipedia page: Sissokosuchus - Wikipedia

and the original publication: A new itasuchid (Crocodyliformes, Notosuchia) from the Early Cretaceous of Mali and the ancient Paleo-Tegama river system of Gondwana: Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology: Vol 0, No 0 - Get Access

PS: I really need to get back to my monthly croc science recaps, theres been a lot going on but I took on a new large scale Wikipedia project related to some recent news thats kept me busy

[pinkpigtailsprincess]

𝜗𝜚 ݁ ˖ Dollies 63 Days of Summer Glow up!! Day 1 > Prep 🎀☀️🐬

Hii Dolls!! 🎀 Welcome 2 my newest series of my 2 month long summer glow up process its pretty self explanatory but im gonna be documenting my 2 month long summer glow up process 2 just be a better me!! enjoy!! ☀️

DISCLAIMER!! ; i will censoring and dancing around certain topics just bc ik they can be triggering to some folk that have issues so cw; vauge mentions of w3!ght!! 💗

Stage 1 : Health! ☀️

It always important to keep up with ur health obvii 2 maintain good balance in life! ☀️

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Diet!! 🍏

Now diet wise i already do have a pretty balanced and healthy diet to begin with so i won’t have to that much work on my diet but i definitely wanna make small improvements!!🎀

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Diet Goals!! 🍋

incorporate different from my usual ones fruits!!

expand my palate (chronic picky eater)

making more meals that are still healthy & tasty but not repetitive!!

not skipping my meals!!

cutting out all meats except fish!!

push myself to like cucumbers

get back into drinking more fruit water!!

stop eating so much cheese!

knowing my limit when eating!

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Exercise !! 🧘‍♀️

Doing more exercise is definitely a huge one for me because there was a point where i did it daily but then i stopped bc i feel into a rut but then i started again but only once a month so im trying to get back into daily exercise!!

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Fitness Goals!! 🧘‍♀️

workout more than once a month!

do more yoga + cardio + home pilates

use exercise to make me healthier & happier

lose w*ight i won’t disclose how much i want to loose and how much i wanna be bc that’s personal 2 me !!

feeling comfortable in my body + build discipline

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Oral Health !! 🪥

I Will say i did recently update my oral hygiene routine bc i got braces so now i have to do more work but i definitely wanna still add things to it!!

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Oral Health Goals !! 🦷

consistently floss in the morning as well as night

buy a tongue scraper

get an electric toothbrush

start oil pulling

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Mental Health !! ☀️

I Sooo wanna improve some thing in my mental health bc obviously its super important to not only take care of my physical health but my mental health!! 🎀

𐙚 𓈒 ݁ ₊ Mental Health Goals !! 🧁

get back into journaling

get back into meditation

step out of my comfort zone

build more confidence in social settings!

replace most phone time with reading time

spend more time outside

prioritizing rest more

not being to hard on myself

celebrating all my wins and accomplishments no matter how big or small!

Stage2 ೀ⋆ : Hygiene!

I Already have a pretty solid skincare routine to begin with but honestly i just wanna improve to it and add more to it ! 🎀

Skincare ୭₊˚ ! 🎀

For my Skincare routine i already have my products and my basics but honestly i wanna stater using different products to better help my skin!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Skincare Goals ! ⭐️

ice rolling

gua-sha

jade rolling

bi weekly dermaplaing

weekly face mask

facial steaming

facial cleansing brush

use more Korean & Japanese products (Japanese products are literally the best)

Body-care ୭₊˚ ⭐️

Another section where i wanna make improvement i already exfoliate,hair removal sometimes and i use my antibacterial soap and my body washes but theres a bunch of things i wanna incorporate!! 💗

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Bodycare Goals ! 🐬

start dry brushing

exfoliate weekly

shave or epilating more often (my own choice bc honestly i don’t like the feeling of body hair

use my glycolic acid more routinely

buy more sweet smelling body products

find a signature scent

use body oil + body butter + body glitter

using an African exfoliating net instead of a rag

Haircare ୭₊˚ ! 💗

For my Hair care i definitely wanna make room for improvement i mainly detangle every day with just some water or style depending on if i need/want to or not and i oil my scalp!!

❤︎ ໋𓈒 Haircare Goals ! 🐬

Grow it out more with the Help of Indian Amla Oil (some said it stinks but if it helps)

Learn More Hair Styles

Use Rice Water

castor oil

Scalp Massage More Often

Hair Masque Bi-Weekly

Trim Split Ends

Deep Conditioning On a Wash Day

Nailcare ! ୭₊˚ ⭐️

use more cuticle oil

professional manipedis bi weekly!

soak my feet with foot salts more

develop my own at home nail care routine

Facials!!🎀

buy new daily vitamins!!

keep my hair professionally done!!

use my primuce stone more

buy more lipgloss + vaseline lip care

Stage 3 ೀ⋆ Makeup + Jewelry + Fashion + Perfumes 🛍️ !!

I wanna learn how to do my makeup again so badly! and this time i have more tips so i can actually learn how to do it properly!! 🫧

Makeup Goals ୭₊˚ !

find the perfect soft glam dolly makeup

perfect my eyebrows

learn to glue down lashes

make the perfect base

learn to bronze and contour correctly

perfect the highlighter placement

get the perfect sun kissed summer doll makeup

again buy more lipgloss

Jewelry Goals ୭₊˚ ! ⭐️

i desperately have been needing new jewelry and for the longest and ive stupidly been wearing silver knowing i like gold better

buy bangels

get gold hoops

get a new nameplate

get more necklaces

get more rings

get anklets !!

Fashion Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🛍️

actually dress in clothes i genuinely like

dress for my body type

not toning down my dressing for random people

build confidence in my outfits

start sewing some of my outfits bc i can

make crochet pieces for the beach

buy tons of cute clothes!!

make more inspo boards !!

Stage 4 ; Posture,Eloquence + Mannerism + Photogenic 🎀🍰

Definitely a Big one for me i wanna fix my posture and definitely speak up more in public bc im a little shy 🙈🎀!

Posture Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🫧

fix my back posture

learn to again regulate my nervous sustem and relax my shoulders

be more fluid in my movements!!

walking with my head up

Eloquence Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🛁

speaking louder in public so people can actually hear me

speaking clearly with confidence

controlling my facial expressions more

smiling more!! 😁

Mannerism Goals + Body Language ୭₊˚ ! 🛍️

I tend to tone down my natrual mannerisms ALOT when im out in public and honestly im tried of not being my true self in public and i let the opinions of those around me influence me into toning it down

be more animated as i am at home in public

walk the way i want to!!

practice princess mannerisms with my own little spin🤭

walk around like a princess bc im literally a princess

Extra Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🛍️

be more photogenic

learn how to pose

be more videogenic

walk around like i won the place (4 the confidence esque of it

Stage 5: Mindset!!🎀⭐️

The Final Stage!!🎀: where ill be implementing so mindsets of some my favs and learn how to express myself in my environment bc honestly it sucks not being able to be myself around my family ⭐️

Mindset Goals ୭₊˚ ! 🐬

knowing my worth

not letting outside opinions dictate my life

unapologetically being myself around my family

reminding my self that people opinions don’t matter

always have a one track mind with all my goals!!

again not being too hard on myself!

Thank you all so much 4 reading i can’t wait till start documenting my journey with you guys!!🎀⭐️ XO,Dolly!!

[tee-tentacle]

Hey. Hey are you the quadhat guy. Yeah?

Suggestion: Helmet Noob(enemy encountered in the plains outside of Bizville) is a McCool gang guy who got REALLY lost. Bro ended up an ocean away from his bros

he ends up bringing back a cultist(Cultist Noob. These two are a matchup that exists in the game and they have been plaguing my mind send help)

i am not THE quadhats guy but i love them very very much so !!

idk what kind of infinite weed brownie you've eaten anon but i DO think these silly lil guys r adorable and theres not a single braincell between the 2 of them </33

people need to be shipping common enemies together more often, its just so cute and they definitely need more attention!!!!

about the McCool gang part, im not sure whether or not that would be very realistic considering Helmet Noob doesn't follow the design rules of the gang (like how Deleter and Devious Dude still do despite being removed from Finn's summons), but now i wish he did so we could expand the polycool :((

[ganondoodle]

yeah no of course i cant stop trying still ...

currently trying to get out of the mindset -draw what could be popular- by designing some rough ideas for the weapons shops in the new totk rewrite (fuse isnt a thing here)

to explain; during the first part (before villain rauru reveal and change to shiekah arm) the way to repair or craft weapons is with a new type of NPCs; they are smiths that can repair your weapons, craft them, and have some avaible to buy (mostly for arrows but also small selection of weapons), it costs material and some money, or if you dont have the material/all material, it costs more money but is still doable, price depending on how valuable or hard to get the material is you dont want to spend on it

then after the switch to the sheikah arm and zelda taking on the role of your permanent companion, she can both repair and craft as well (might be limited but expandable with quests, as in that zelda learns more skills- so theres new quests after the switch and you cant just do everything before that) with the difference that you need to have the required materials but it costs no money

this would mean that while no giant change before and after the halfway point of the game, it is definitely different feeling, plus its a convenience that is good to have in the second half but shouldnt be sorely missed in the first, the difference between NPC smith and zelda gives you the option to spend material or money- so you arent forced to grind anything if you need either for something else, plus new quest rewards for the second half and new points of interest in general, similar to a stable but not too close so theres still an element of exploration; they arent super frequent but around the map of the surface enough that you can reasonably reach one in each region (perhaps after aquiring the yiga as allies/or before that in disguise they can do the same for you but are only found in the underground)

it would also allow for more diverse gameplay, if your favorite weapon is about to break (it might not fully disappear but if you use it up it would go into a condition like the master sword when its lost its power, not usable or doing tiny amount of damage, but not gone forever if you accidentally use it too much-) you can decide to throw it away or keep it until you find the next smith, depending on if you already found one and see you are close or havent yet, or spend the material if you have it to instantly repair it

(i havent decided yet if rauru might be willing to repair your weapons, but not to craft them since he lacks the skill (would never admit to it) and he only wants to give you just enough support to enable you to do what he wants you to do- i think that might work better bc its still a difference to zelda, since she can craft too, but not too much so that you would feel like the games forcing you to use the smiths in the first half ... possibly its unlocked with one of the enigma stones, when rauru can claim he is able to do that now bc it lets him recover some of his strength)

what im wondering now, which is a bit important i think, is .. should the smiths be wandering around a set path or have a lil stationary shop? if they wander around it would make it a bit more depending on situation of you wanna use them, but bears the risk of making it annoying if you dont know here they are or happen to be too far away and a lil weird bc should have something to work on there, like an anvil, which would be a lil strange to carry around; a lil shop could potentially turn into a location you keep teleporting back and forth though im leaning towards the shop; you could make helping them build it a quest too, or saving them from monsters? overall i think this idea is a rather nice balance

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt how much I love oni's writing again... In particular, "a seed is planted" continues to be one of if not my favorite logs because despite the troubling details and implications that come with it, it's the one thing in the entirety of the decaying corpse of gravitas that genuinely leaves us with a grain of hope (a seed if you will) and makes oni as a whole a lot more bitter sweet as while earth may not have survived, the dupes did, and after their horrible origins and the shit that many of them went through, in due time they'll finally get to just live, they're free now, and even if Olivia's sleep is end of a tragedy, the world will keep moving forward with or without those who've been lost

[spacedlexi]

Sorry if I'm bombarding you with questions but I have a few more if you don't mind.

In most fandoms when they age up character couples, they give them kids. I find it interesting you didn't in your 10+ years AU. So my main question is do you think your Clem and Vi would even entertain the idea of kids? I'm sure there's a lot of kids they could adopt considering the world they live in. We all know Aj is Clem's baby but I'm interested is what you think.

With all the expositions out of the way, here's the follow up questions:

Do you think Vi would be a good mom? Would she or Clem be the one to potentially want to expand their family? Do you think Vi has fears with being a parent because of her upbringing? Is she considered a parental figure to Aj in your Au? If they were to have a kid, do you see Aj as the jealous type, the best big brother or a mix of both?

Again, thank you for your time 💖

a lot of the time i feel like people will give characters children without even considering if they are the kind of character who even WANTS children. in clems case she already has a child that she adopted who is her whole world. and vi has tenn who she looks out for/takes care of. they both technically already have children before they even meet. two single guardians looking for a partner and providing support for each other in these trying times

so no. i dont think they would look to adopt more children. they already have 2 (in my +10 timeline all 3 tenn vi and louis are still alive) and they love them with their whole hearts. but theyre also community leaders, and they look out for everyone in their community, and im sure over the years that community will continue to grow. but "adopting" more children? no i dont think they would. they have their hands full already. i think they are perfectly satisfied with their little family and wouldnt go looking to expand it

i dont think vi would be a good mom. i KNOW she would be!! the game already proved that. the mom that stepped up. i really love the way she interacts with aj and supports clems parenting of him

her look to clem here after both reassuring clem and being supportive to aj like "its ok see i can handle this dont worry" like yeah i know u can girlie 😌 and clem knows it too by her content little smile back, not even having to finish her sentence. OUGH 😭 they make me sick. and i didnt even include all of the examples here of her being good with him/the other kids like theres so much 😭

i think violets neglectful home life is why shes good with taking care of the younger members of the community. she says shes bad with interacting with people, but she is ALWAYS good with the kids. shes a leader and a protector, and shes gonna do better for others than her parents did for her. than Any of the adults in her life did for her (besides ms martin the real one. i think ms martin was a very positive influence on her tbh)

i think during clems initial recovery while shes still bed bound, violet would take it upon herself to watch out for aj while clem cant. during this time they would bond, aj would possibly confide in her his fears around clems recovery (that vi would also share but would remain supportive of him). i see her taking him under her wing the same way she did for tenn. continuing to lighten the load on clems shoulders. i like to think she was the one who helped him make his own spear, noticing the regular ones were too big for him while fishing together. plus making it would help distract him from his fears around clems recovery. (and in my post canon au tenn isnt dead so that tension isnt there between them, but if it was vi would be very mature about it and it wouldnt change anything about her wanting to help take care of him, she just needs to be sad for a little while 😔 but she does it in a way aj cant see)

i dont think aj would ever see vi as a parental figure in the way he sees clem. more like "moms cool gf" territory. he looks up to her and respects her, and knows he can rely on her, but aj doesnt really have any concept of "mom" or "dad". all hes ever had is "clem". shes everything to him. so while i think vi would do her best to be a good guardian for him (both for his and clems sakes), theyll never have the level of relationship that he has with clem, and thats fine. but he definitely reacts to them like a kid whose parents wont stop being gross and in love all the time 🙄

[virginmiri99]

TOMMYINNIT IS AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN THE PROBLEM.

I'm off my anti psychotics and I have a lot of catching up to do in terms of tommy hate. first of all, I cant name a more depressing person to be around than someone who consistently tries to center the sympathy on them during a conversation. theres a huge difference between sharing your story and wallowing in it. as a public figure tommy is currently pulling a 2021 RANBOO... yeah thats right tommy is RANBOO by constantly trauma dumping his feelings on his audience: depression, parents divorce, loss of creativity... at a certain point it feels like a hostage situation and he wears the diagnosis of depression like a badge. Have I watched any tommy content recently? No. and not for like 3 years, and thats because his insufferable life habits seep into everything he touches, he has become that person who makes 'I wanna die' jokes that everyone has to uncomfortably laugh at while also parroting humor from middle school. Which is just why his career at "comedy" is failing, and is only doomed to fail. What is his audience? if it WAS all middle schoolers, why do shows that cost money and spew nonsense sexual humor that no parent in their right mind would accept sitting through? if he sees his audience that supports him financially being queer young adults (lesbians) why spend much of his time acting like a nasty middle school boy that turns his aging fans against him on their private twitters? does he ever look around at his peers such as tubbo and wonder why his best friend is much more loved by the overall streaming community--why tubbo is seen as an equal to other streamers while tommy is "that kid tommyinnit?" tommy cant sit at the table with larger streamers without sticking out as "the minecraft kid" and he cant sit at the table with long run minecrafters without sticking out as "inappropriate child", he recevce so respect as a real adult or creator from either side. I truly believe ludwig still things tommy is like 16. does he not feel the imposter syndrome of digging himself into a hole of his own doing? he claims to not want to do "gen z" humor any longer but I dont see the change being put in to expand his audience past the dsmp kids the way, say, tubbo or purpled have (sorry purpled for even speaking your name in presence of the devil. and you have issues too btw. but youre being mostly fine abt them). hell, even ranboo has fought tooth and nail to break away from it (but is cringe and annoying in a different way) my only conclusion from this is that tommyinnit was never talented, funny, or special in any grand way with zero clue of his core identity and now can only live in a false existence as its all hes ever known. he sees himself as bo burnham or robbie williams but he doesnt even know who he is in the first place. which is why he has no swag. he clings to the idea of being the minecraft funnyman, the good to dreams evil, the annoying kid who scored (and lost) a hot girlfriend, but he is failing at all of those things which makes him look desperate and pathetic and using the only thing he currently has: depression. he released a book filled with tweets that only a middle schooler could make to fill up pages (a la gabbie hanna poetry) with ai art and a lack of care for genuine creativity. tommyinnit is nothing more than a washed up 20 yo at the start of his life. at this point he just needs to stop being an online figure as its painful to watch even from a distance.

post this on reddit

[sirsealery]

mentioned this a bit at the bottom of some comment thread in one of my hunger games fics and figured i might expand on it a bit here? to see what other people have to say, i think. sotr spoilers !!

fyi im wearing a homemade lorax costume right now as im typing this. happy world book day!

so, anyways, i wanna talk about the careers. i wouldnt call myself a career fan or lover, and frankly i dont have much love for any of the careers in the series, especially in the first book and sotr. the only exceptions are finnick and annie (and i suppose mags? is she a career?) because theyre written as actual people. which leads me to my first point, which is that so often, theyre just so cartoonishly evil. they remind me so much of those disney channel bullies but take it up a notch. they kill people instead of shoving them into lockers or flushing their face in the toilet. but like with the same energy and the annoying jock voice you know what i mean?? lmao

and i mean i get it. in the first book theyre like the main antagonists and we're not spending more than a couple of pages with them, so they dont need to be all that fleshed out. which is totally fine, i dont care, but in some of the other books? in sunrise, where silka is actively trying to be humanized? to me, it fell very, very flat. i felt absolutely nothing reading about her eat chocolate and cry at the foot of the tree. and panache being a cato 2.0 kind of annoyed me. i get it! dumb brutes exist, but how are there so many of them? i dont think ive ever met a single person like this. ever. i dont know though, maybe my experience isnt universal. maybe in other parts of the world there are plenty of laughably stupid hunks. basically all of the careers are complete idiots, just running around and stabbing babies.

okay now what i really wanted to talk about after ranting a bit. sorry gang. i wanna talk about how sad the career existence is. i mean, theyre needlessly brutal and mean. but they were also raised this way? id love for someone more articulate than me to talk about this too. i had a thought a while ago kinda comparing the careers to like .. the people who peaked in high school? id love to have an exploration of the career experience, either an essay or fanfiction (lmk if theres any youve found !!) cuz like .. of course youre bringing honor and glory not only to yourself but also your whole district, patriotism and all that. but i wonder if its still the same once you start killing kids? i mean its basically a given that theyre pretty desensitized to violence, gore and death at the point where they volunteer for the games, but i dont think its quite the same when youre actually like .. doing it??

and when you go home, youre celebrated and praised, but only like until someone new wins, which is next year. and theres gonna be the trauma of the games and potentially life altering injuries and while in the other districts theres some kind of sympathy for victors, but since in the career districts they idolize it, theres not really any/as much i think?? i imagine itd be really weird to work your whole life, achieve your goals, and then come to the realization that you basically have no purpose now but to watch kids under your care die and hope that at least one of them will survive. i wonder if thats why some of the careers in catching fire were so eager to rejoin the games? since its all theyre known for and theyve had nothing for the last like 10-20 years and they want a shot to do what theyre best at again? relive their glory days or whatever? im honestly not sure, but i think its worth thinking about. thanks gang 🙏

[onejellyfishplease]

BEHOLD! my new TMNT iteration!

tmnt: Strained Eyes

In this iteration, much like rottmnt, all of the turtles have super powers. however, there is a little catch. while the rottmnt turtle's powers suit their soul, Strained Eye's turtles... don't.

(please ignore the fact that Mikey doesnt really look like a spotted pond turtle, i came up with the design first and had to find a turtle species second)

So! Mikeys powers basically allow him to cause every thing he touches to rot/decompose/desintergrate. he does have some control, but not reliably.

And though he is a good cook, there is a 50/50 chance that you will end up eating mouldy/rotten food. but all the other times it will be delicious.

he (obviously) has insecurities about touch, he is very aware that he could very easily kill someone with just one touch.

he can also grow mushrooms on command -he can also grow them on his shell which freaks out his brothers a lot.

also hes not actually blind in one eye! its mostly just cosmetic.

Up next we have Donnie! compared to Mieky hes a very brightly coloured boy!

his power is illusions! they can be incredibly lifelike. the problem is, These illusions can be permanent if Donnie doesnt dispel them, and sometimes are summoned only by his subconscious. So Donnie can struggle with figuring out if something is real or not.

The only senses his illusions cannot mimic are touch and smell (and taste) so he is usually extremely tactile, holding onto his brothers to assure himself that theyre real and not just a projection of his mind. he covers a lot of stuff in his lab (and his brothers) with strong smelling perfumes as well.

application wise- he uses his powers in tandem with his machines to make incredibly realistic looking androids. example: robot cat that looks like real cat. robot dragon that looks like REAL dragon, etc etc. he can also use them to appear human and turn invisible. (he can expand this to all his brothers) but he still hasnt gotten down the art of human expressions, so when ever he appears human he looks quite uncanny when he talks.

It's Leo!!

now Leo is ~battery powered~ his powers basically allow him to absorb energy straight from the source, such as absorbing the electricity off of an electric wire, or even sucking the energy from a person. or eating batteries.

an unfortunate side affect (depending on how you look at it) is that Leo doesnt need to sleep. ever. as long as he keeps absorbing energy then he's completely fine! and the more electricity/energy he absorbs the faster/stronger he gets! he also thinks faster! coming up with excellent strategies on the fly!

however- the same is true of the other way around, when Leo runs out of energy (which he does often- hes VERY bad at judging how much he has left) he will start to get more lethargic, his cognitive funtions will slow down and his short term memory will start to degrade.

If he completly runs out of energy his heart stops and he dies.

but dont worry! you just need to zap him with more energy and hell get right back up again (Donnie has a defibrillator just for Leo). though its best not to leave him in that state for long. because like that he is still functionally a dead body.

And finally we have Raph!

Raph breaths fire. a very simple power, in fact he can even hold his breath for hours apon end and his skin is extremely tough! theres basically no side effects too!

Hes so lucky compared to his brothers, having a power that suits him perfectly and doesnt mess him up in the head.

because of this, Raph has kinda moulded himself into the hyper aggressive mom friend, making sure they dont all run themselves into the ground because of the drawbacks to their powers.

he still has anger issues too <3