#I too am gazing as his tibbies

[scrimblyscrorblo]

My meow meows, my brain parasites

I like to think gramps, Urokodaki and giyuu have gotten drunk playing board games before. Urokodaki gets really cheery and giyuu cannot hold his liquor for shit

Also, Shinobu and Mitsuri learned how to dance as partners, I think they dance a lot. Stress relief, if you will <333

[tiberius-ttd]

Wraithlike Stirrings

Commander Tiberius:

**(Memory)**

I fly the transport ship through the gate to the prearranged location. Our diplomatic party consists of myself, Claudius and Lastlight, as well as a handful of drones. It is safer for our Mother not to attend such unpredictable events in-person, and Father trusts me well enough to be comfortable remaining at her side.

As we near the meeting place, I gain a sense of my brother’s minds, and perceive a stark contrast. It is why I chose them to accompany me in the first place, the one balances the other. Yet in this case, neither temperament is ideal. Claudius is on edge, whilst Lastlight is perhaps too confident. I chide them both.

((It is in both parties’ interests to form an alliance. I do not expect trouble. Nevertheless, the wraith who is unprepared for trouble is the wraith that ends up captured or killed.))

I look to Lastlight at that last comment. He is brilliant, undoubtedly, but not unstoppable. He rolls his eyes at me, of course, but Claudius takes my words to heart. I sense his nerves turn to brave resolve, and I send him rare praise, before further addressing Lastlight.

((Queen Agrippina is unlikely to attend herself, but her daughter may be present. From all accounts, she is a noble Princess with a strong mind, so you might wish to be careful around her.))

I privately remind him of the time he was allowed to meet Princess Rubyrose; he acted like a babbling idiot for most of that meeting. Of course, Mother is already considering arranging a betrothal between the two, anything for darling Lastlight. She is much the same with our youngest brother, the newly-named Caelus. Though what she sees in him, I am less sure of. So far he seems… vapid… I sense that Father hardly approves either, not that he would ever outwardly question Mother’s decisions.

In any case, no matter Mother’s approval, Lastlight will have to wait. Even if Princess Rubyrose is agreeable to the match, my betrothal must come first as the eldest. I sense Lastlight is hopeful that I will be taken with this Princess today, if she does indeed attend the discussions. Hm, we shall see. I am not so easily impressed as him…

I land the ship and step outside onto the world of Aequus. This planet and worlds like it have long been used for negotiations, and are viewed as neutral ground. Wraith worshippers have also been allowed to settle here, so that they have a safe place to live and reproduce when not in service… and we have access to quick and easy meals during long discussions. Some of the humans approach us without fear, but I wave them away. I do not care for their pomp or adulation, they are as irrelevant to me as the trees, except for when I am hungry.

No sooner have we landed than I hear the sound of the stargate activating in the distance. It seems this hive also values punctuality, a good start. Moments later, their transport ship arrives. As soon as it comes into close proximity, I can sense her. I called her noble before, but the word does not do her justice. She is… perfection! Everything a true wraith Queen should aspire to be and more! Courageous, but not foolhardy; intelligent, but not to the point of detachment; caring of her men, but not at the cost of weakness. I had said earlier that I was not easily impressed, but how could any being not be overcome with devotion to such a mind? To such a Queen. To Princess Vipsania.

She emerges from the ship, and her appearance is just as breath-taking as her mind. Silvery blonde hair cascades down past her shoulders in ringlets. Its colour is only exemplified by outfit she wears; all black, with an air of both elegance and practicality. If her hair is silver, her eyes are gold, and as I look at them she holds my gaze. I sense her own fascination with my mind, and she boldly approaches ahead of her brothers. I can hardly breathe as she stops only a few feet away from me, never breaking eye-contact, and gives me a curious smile.

(Vipsania): “And who might you be?”

**

(Vipsania): “Tiberius… Please… help me.”

(Michael): “Set her free, Tiberius. Free her wretched head from her miserable shoulders.”

“AHHHHH!”

****

The first sensation that returns as I awaken is pain. All of those memories, times spent with Vipsania, with Lastlight… and then remembering how everything went to hell. Even now, cured as I am, I cannot bring to mind all that took place during her last few hours. However, there are certain parts that (memory drugs aside) will never leave me. Her screaming, her blood- so much blood- and sensing her mind weaken and fade throughout it all. I was so close to her, mere inches away, and yet there was nothing that I could do to stop it. All I could do was watch, and feel her pain alongside her. Until she gave me her final request. And I had to…

I block that memory, refusing to let it overwhelm me once more. I remind myself that, even in death, I did for her what I could. I sent her head (released from that awful box) into her favourite star, so that she would forever be a part of it. Not only that, but with her brain destroyed, Michael could never hurt her again. And now… now I can truly say that she has been avenged! She is no longer merely a distant memory in Michael’s mind- one of many countless Queens he caused the death of- and he surely rues the day that he ripped our lives asunder! For now he KNOWS my pain, both for my child and for Vipsania!

My thoughts turn from them, to the one who allowed me to gain my vengeance. Nala… in the end, I pity my unfortunate sister. Despite my best attempts, the actions the Lanteans had taken could not be undone. She was as much of a freak as Michael, though in a different way, one which was arguably more sympathetic. The desire to care for her brothers remained, yet her nature was too weakened and corrupted to be in any fit state to rule. Needless to say, the corruption was only made worse in the presence of Michael! I saw it in these past two weeks (the memories of which seem much like a waking nightmare in my head), and I saw it when I first brought her back to the hive, all those years ago. I knew then that I could not repeat Mother’s mistake. If the worst were to happen- if my attempts at teaching her civility were to fail, or worse, Michael were to reclaim her- countermeasures must be prepared. I would not allow her to fall back into the depths of depravity, and release another abomination back out into the galaxy. For our sake, but also for hers. If I could give my sister nothing else, then I would give her peace. Of course, if she had to die, and her death were to occur in front of Michael, I would not waste the opportunity to teach him such a lesson in grief…

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear Hypnos’ voice in my head, asking about my current condition. I send him my utmost praise and gratitude! I dread to think of what may have befallen us had he not made preparations. Or even more alarmingly, if he had informed Michael of what was to occur. He may be a scientist, but I owe him my freedom and my life. I will not forget such a debt.

His own mind pulses with a heavy sorrow. I… share his regret at the fate of Marcellus and Caelus. Telling them about the poison would have been too great a risk, it was wise of Hypnos to withhold that knowledge from us all. However, it meant that they were ill-prepared for the escape, and circumstances being what they were at that debauched ‘celebration’, we had no choice but to leave them behind. My instincts were right in what I said to Hypnos afterwards, that we should not attempt a rescue for them, but only now do I have full insight into my reasonings. Any signs that we care for their predicament will only encourage Michael to use them against us. It was my mistake, my terrible mistake, to go back for Vipsania. I will not allow that to happen twice! If he sees no use for them on my behalf, if he believes that I do not care… they are nothing to him, he bears them no ill will, he will surely gift them the mercy of a quick death for their ‘loyalty’ in staying behind. Such is my hope, that they do not have to remain with him and suffer in his atrocious ‘kingdom’ for long.

My own time spent there… how do I even begin to process all that happened… and yet process it I must, if I wish to be in a position to address the men. I must face the humiliation and share all of my memories with them, first and foremost so that they understand the dangers of being captured by Michael. The recollections will also provide my brothers with all of the intelligence I was able to glean whilst I was… worse than a prisoner… a shell of a man…

The first attempt, ‘Tibby’, was undoubtedly the worst. Not for the many human acts I was compelled to perform- degrading as they were- but for the sickening emotions imprinted into my mind. The ‘happiness’ at being with the abomination, the ‘love’ I felt for the thing that hurt not one, but two of my Queens, my Father and so many of my brothers. I had thought that I could experience no more shame, after failing my siblings, Queen and child, but truly they all would have loathed me, to see me in such a state.

The second attempt was perhaps not as humiliating as the first, but I was still just as pathetic a creature in many ways. All of those weaklings whose foolish behaviour I was ordered to endure; the human children, the warped wraith scientist, the hordes of Michael’s hybrid freaks. Should any ever cross me again, my blade hand is ready. Then again, most of them will likely die long before they could ever track me down, either from their own stupidity, or from Michael’s disgusting new infection. As for Michael himself… being subjected to those ridiculous verbal battles with him... that is, when Nala was not present and he indulged her delusional, human-like family ‘games’… Well, such weakness on his own behalf is what allowed me to destroy that horrific planet. As for what strategy is to be employed against him next… well, that is a conversation to have with my remaining brothers. I have dwelt long enough on the past.

I make my way to the hibernation pods, blocking anything that is not useful or needed out of my head. As Father always taught me, I must be strong for them. The hybridisation alone will be a heavy blow for my brothers to take in when they awaken. How they will handle the news of all that has transpired, I cannot say. Nevertheless, I owe them every detail of the truth. Unlike Michael, I will not lie or make excuses for my actions. I will not beg for their forgiveness, and if they consider my actions to be regicide, I will do my duty and undergo exile.

I inform Hypnos of my plans, and send the few drones we have left to the bridge to relieve him. I give him the option of rest, but he chooses to join the others. I meet him at the entrance to the hibernation chamber and, when we are both ready, I deactivate all of the pods.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern “Moving On” AU)

Twenty-Seven:

It didn't take long for a routine to form. One that Steve was significantly more eager to go through with. Sure, it wasn't an everyday or even an every other day type of routine like Steve would've liked. But it was an every Monday, Thursday, and sometimes Sunday routine. And Steve would take anything he could get from the stunning brunet.

Monday didn't even seem so bad as Steve woke with a smile in relief on his face, remembering that he'd get to see Bucky after a long, depressing weekend. It had been a difficult funeral to prepare for. Steve always found kid funerals to be sadder than the other funerals. And the most recent one even topped that cake with three siblings dying in a car crash along with their mother. Seeing the grief on the father's face as he stood as the sole survivor from the crash, brought tears to Steve's eyes. But what was even harder for Steve was finding Joe in the office, sobbing into Sarah's chest as he tightly held her petite frame close to him.

As Steve brushed his teeth, he looked over a still sleeping Vinnie. Wondering if he should wake the exhausted support dog. It had been a long weekend for him, too, after all.

Finishing up his morning business, Steve entered his bedroom and crossed the room to his bed. Petting the sleeping Weimaraner, Steve asked, "Ready to go running?"

Groggily, the dog lifted his head and looked over at Steve. Steve kept petting the pooch and questioned, "Wanna see Bucky?"

Cocking his head to the side as he looked over Steve, Vinnie looked more awake than he had a moment ago. Not that Steve could blame him, since he felt the same.

It worried Steve sometimes. Almost like he was depending too much on the charming brunet. What was he going to do once Bucky thought he was fit enough for his wedding tux? What was he going to do if Bucky decided it was no longer okay for him to be spending so much time with a man that he wasn't engaged to?

We haven't spent that much time together, Steve tried to reason with himself as he tied his running shoes. Even as his mind ran over the past month and a half, and of all the times the pair had ran in the mornings, or the few times in the evening when either had work in the morning. Or the visits to What's the Batter With You in an attempt to remain the Best Uncle Ever TM.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Steve decided he'd cross that bridge if and, or when, he got to it. For now though, he had plans.

Since Vinnie was just as attached to Bucky as Steve was, he allowed Steve to clip his leash and lead him out of their apartment. Forgoing his car the way he had every other time, Steve walked towards the little cake shop.

Once he got there, however, the door to the cake shop was still locked. Assuming that Bucky was getting things ready for opening, Steve knocked on the door.

At the sound of Steve's knuckles against the glass, Bucky popped his head out from the back. Brows furrowed, Bucky quickly made his way towards the entrance. Instead of the typical athletic gear that Steve was accustomed to, Bucky was wearing jeans, What's the Batter With You t-shirt, and a purple apron that he was wiping his hands on.

Unlocking the door, Bucky asked, "What are you doing here?"

Steve's brows furrowed as he tried not to let Bucky's brush-off sting too much while he lamely stated, "It's Monday."

"I texted you," Bucky clarified, patting the apron for his phone. Turning to look at his shop, he found the phone on the counter beside the register and opened it. Sighing, Bucky commented, "I meant to text you."

"Oh," Steve worried his lower lip with his teeth.

"Oh," Bucky confirmed, tightening the scrunchie holding his hair in a messy bun. Rounding the counter to wash his hands, he explained, "It's completely hectic right now. Shuri has the flu, Tibby's at school, Darcy is out of the country, Becca's in labor, and over half of the twelve dozens of cupcakes for the Pride Senior Prom are ruined."

Earnestly, Steve suggested, "I know that I don't know much about baking, but is there any way that I can help?"

Bucky's head snapped over to him instantly, causing Steve to freeze like prey. With glassy eyes fighting to contain tears, Bucky asked, "You'd do that?"

"Of course," Steve nonchalantly agreed. Then, hoping that his absolute infatuation and fondness for the brunet wasn't written all over his face, Steve shrugged a shoulder and teased, "What else am I going to do? Everyone else is sleeping."

"Thank you," Bucky accepted. Already the tension began to leave his broad shoulders as he instructed, "Lock the door." Drying his hands, he spotted Vinnie and said, "It's against health code for him to be in the kitchen with us, but he can hang out upstairs."

Vinnie's tail wagged at that and Steve followed Bucky over to back door of the shop. Bucky made a sharp turn just outside of the door and unlocked another door before climbing up the staircase. Steve wasn't sure why it never dawned on him that Bucky's apartment might've been right above the cake shop. He just always assumed that the cake shop was a neutral place to meet up at before their run.

Bucky didn't stop at the landing of the open apartment. Instead, crossing the black and white checkered kitchen floor, past the retro purple fridge, to the sink. Pulling down a bowl from the cabinet, Bucky started filling it with water.

All the while, Steve's eyes roamed around the apartment. Trying to drink as much of it in as he could. Piecing together who Bucky really was with every old photo framed on the wall and the white lace curtains on the windows facing the street. Sci-fi books crowded the bookcases while horror films and Disney Princess classics lined the entertainment center. On the back of the gray corner sofa was a yellow crocheted blanket, and Steve was certain that the plants dotting the open floor plan were fake.

"You have a really nice place," Steve complimented, bringing his attention back to Bucky as the muscular brunet set the bowl of water on the kitchen floor.

"Thank you," Bucky grinned so largely that it crinkled his eyes. Looking around his apartment as well, he admitted, "I keep trying to convince Tony to move in here. But he owns a house, so it doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

"That's a shame," Steve said, ignoring the way his stomach dropped at the mention of the luckiest man alive, aka Anthony Stark.

"It really is," Bucky agreed. Redirecting his attention back towards the bowl of water, he asked, "Will that be enough for right now?"

"Should be," Steve confirmed, unclipping Vinnie's leash.

Bucky's eyes were evaluating Steve when Steve righted himself, causing a blush to color his cheeks. Wondering if his possibly too-tight athletic top and shorts were too revealing. And although he wanted nothing more than to fidget, he refrained. After all, if Bucky knew that Steve caught him, would Bucky still look?

"Do you wanna change into something more comfortable?" Bucky asked, bringing his gaze to Steve's eyes.

Mind avoiding all the porn he'd seen with a premise just like this, Steve nervously chuckled and questioned, "What?"

Thinking over what he said, a beautiful red shaded Bucky's cheeks and he clarified, "To bake in. It can get pretty messy."

When Steve didn't say anything as he thought, Bucky headed down the short hallway to his right and entered the bedroom. Not sure if he was supposed to follow or not, Steve hesitantly crossed the apartment.

Holding up a spring green What's the Batter With You shirt, Bucky studied the garment and offered, "I'm not sure if it'll fit like your other shirts, but at least if you have a mishap with the food coloring, it won't stain your clothes."

Catching the tossed tee, Steve said, "Thanks."

"No problem," Bucky smiled and left his bedroom. Heading back for the stairs, he called over his shoulder, "I'll meet you in the kitchen!"

[jojosthetic-boogaloo]

I also forgot to thank you again because im a huge idiot :) thank you sm for everything ily ❤ you bring out all my uwus

@giogios--requiem​ requested for a NSFW Scenario for Abbacchio with some Stand action! Fem!Pronouns

(Tumblr ate the ask and we had a bit of a mess to deal with this but I deliver against all of tumblr’s bigotry!)

Baby bean you bring out my uwus as well, I hope I do well our big tibby goth bf!

NSFW Scenario - Abbacchio & Moody Blues

Leone and you had been dating for white some time now, and it showed. In the way you lazily laid splayed on top of him while scrolling down your phone, your cheek directly pressed onto his bare chest while your legs swung back and forth lazily. And on his part, with his hands resting atop your head to hold his device, he seemed invested on some YouTube video. You sighed, feeling the much appreciated breeze sneak through the window to the living-room and taking away the uncomfortable sweat that had started to form between your forms. 

“Y/N, cara.” He started, blocking his phone and letting it carelessly drop on the sofa below you without much thought. “I’m bored.” He stated, a small smile forming on your face, already knowing what he meant by that, making you block your phone as well and gently place it on his chest, staring back at him with a playful expression. “Well, and what am I to do, caro?” You retorted, already feeling hands running up your thighs, finally cupping your ass between them, squeezing it gently. 

Those hands, however, couldn’t belong to Abbacchio, who had both his hands below his head, his arms crossed beneath it to hold it up a bit better to talk to you. Turning your gaze around for a moment, you observed how Moody Blues had been summoned by his user to “play along” with you. The first time this had happened was long ago, somewhere around the fifth month of when you started dating and got in the mood. Having Moody Blues hold you had been kind of off putting, for you didn’t exactly know back then how the stand would act in this situation. 

Now, after the generous amount of times Moody had joined you two in your little trysts, you felt it natural when the stand now quietly fondled you where your beloved boyfriend didn’t reach or was busy to. Soon enough, you felt how the stand lifted your behind carefully making you rest on your knees, your palms firm on Leone’s toned abdomen to hold yourself up comfortably enough. You saw him give you a smug smile when you started feeling Moody pressing it’s gentle fingers over your panties right above your most sensitive spot, making you bite your lip and weakly huff out Abbacchio’s name. He seemed to like the reaction, helping himself to sit up straight, his legs at your sides as your hands now rested on his thighs, Moody helping you adjust to the new position. 

“Would you mind to play with me too, bella?” Leone purred. At the same time, feeling how Moody had slid it’s fingers along your slit, lazily pressing on your entrance only to feel your hips gently pressing back onto the touch. With one hand, you helped Moody to slide your underwear down your legs, until they fell down to your knees; then you rose your gaze to meet Abbacchio’s hungry one, not missing how he had looked at your exposed rear facing his stand before him. “Here to please, tesoro.” You replied in a quiet tone, getting to tug and pull down his pants. Those comfortable, baggy sport pants you’d bought him to laze around the house on his last birthday and he profusely hated, yet still wore. 

You ran your flat palm on his half hard length, leaning in closer to teasingly suck over his boxers and leave small kisses. The small smile on your lips quickly fading when you felt Moody’s hand had now been busied with rubbing your clit in a delicious circular motion, using it’s ring and middle finger to occasionally slide on your folds and separate them to tease you. You felt your lower stomach warm up, letting out a small moan as you gently buckled your hips into the stand’s touch, accidentally crashing your half parted lips into Abbacchio’s now hardened member. He looked down at your form and felt his breath hitch, you looked so nice in this position, your hot breath on his crotch only making him want to feel you sooner than later. 

“Amore, when Moody’s done, I’m going to fuck you until you can’t stand tomorrow, got it?” He announced, his tone husky as he ran his fingers through your hair, gently pulling when he felt your hands start to pull down his underwear. You looked at him through half lidded eyes and biting your lower lip to hold back the soft moans that wanted to come out from Moody’s fantastic handy work. “...You better do, Leone.” You let out after gathering your thoughts together. You freed your man’s aching member out of it’s cage, immediately leaning closer and placing one hand on his thigh, the other guiding it to your mouth and promptly welcoming it inside. 

He let out a groan, making a fistful of your hair and letting you gently bob up and down his dick, helping yourself with your hand to reach the entirety of it. He threw his head back, feeling how you let out soft moans into the blowjob, the sensation making him moan out your name weakly himself. Moody pressed on your bud, sliding its fingers along your now rather wet self and rubbing the slick, sticky substance between its fingers before slowly introducing one finger inside you. With a small whimper coming from you, causing Leone to pull your head down ever so slightly onto his hips, Moody resumed into sliding one of its hands along your hips, up to your waist and around your ribs to find your bra in the way of its goal.

You gently lifted your head and with a cute “pop” removed your lover’s length from your mouth, giving him a pleading look while still stroking him up and down with your hand, using both your leftover saliva and the new leaking precum to lube up. “Leone love, unhook my bra please.” You let out in almost a whimper near the end of the sentence, feeling how Moody had slowly put inside another one of its fingers and kept a wonderful thrusting pace, wriggling its fingers inside you to find the best spot as it did. The stand’s other hand patiently waiting at the base of your chest while tracing the half moon outline of your bra with gentle fingers. 

Abbacchio had to gather himself to focus on your back again, lifting your shirt up and with shaky hands and half lidded eyes, unhooking said piece of clothing successfully as it fell down into the sofa when Moody quickly lifted your shirt up from below too, finally getting to trap one of your breasts in one firm yet gentle squeeze. The stand started massaging your left breast as its other hand played away with your delicate center, sliding its fingers out once more to rub them on your clit a bit rougher this time around. You moaned out a choked “a-ahhh” in an attempt to call out to Abbacchio, who looked at you through his only barely open eye, biting his lip and feeling himself itch and twitch between your soft fingers.

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum soon-” He let out in a breath, getting cut off at the end when he heard you moan louder this time, bumping your head into his lower stomach as Moody had leaned into you, its chest pressing onto one side of your back as its hand worked away at you, feeling yourself how a delicious electric warmth spread through your body and your vision faltered, making your strokes on Leone’s dick erratic and giving him a little squeeze on accident. Which he seemed to like, for he had moaned alongside you, followed with a dragged grunt and the warm feeling of his seed dripping down your hand and slightly reaching your cheek. You felt both his and your body relax and limply lay into each other. 

Moody slowly took away its hand, feeling how your hips slightly twitched as it did and instead sliding its hands around your waist to help you up once more, pressing your back to its chest in a tender hug and leaving you eye to eye with Abbacchio. You both smiled, Leone getting on his knees and getting closer to both you and Moody, circling both your figures into a hug, leaving you pressed flush between both stand and it’s user. “Well-” You started, letting yourself be sandwiched by them with a playful smile on your lips. “About not being able to walk tomorrow...” Abbacchio laughed, craning his neck down to leave small kisses on your neck and hum. “Give me a minute, doll.” 

Okay okay so, here it is, and I hope you’re aware that this is going to get a second part, because Moody/Abba thirst is a thing and it has awakened within me and I already got some ideas, thank u boo. Toodles!

[aiklahori]

What I’ll Miss

By Michelle Stepp

For more than half of my life I’ve been plagued by the darkness of depression. Over the past decade I’ve seen mental health awareness grow significantly—for which I’m immensely grateful. Still, there are those who ignore the well-accepted fact that mental illness is well, a legitimate illness.

Witnessing mental illness being regarded as a choice is a powerful source of anger and frustration. And watching depression and anxiety romanticized ignites a certain kind of rage within me.

There is nothing romantic about not being able to work because your illness has rendered you lethargic and incapable of focus. After skipping out on personal hygiene for days or weeks on end, depression is no longer “cute.” Anxiety is no longer a charming, little quirk when it traps you in your home out of fear. And suicide is hardly a choice made by a weak, selfish person.

Losing a person by their own hand is soul-crushing. One only needs to think back to a time when they heard about a loved one even attempting to take their own life to get a taste of the sickening drop in their stomach that follows.

For those of us on the other side, the ones dealing with the thoughts of suicide, I want to promise healing and solutions. But I can’t. Today and tomorrow have the very real possibility of bringing pain and struggle, I’m sure you’re well aware of that. But, they also have the opportunity and space for joy and hope—no matter how fleeting those moments may seem.

Within a span of two years I’ve been hospitalized four times and made three attempts. This summer I spent 30 days in two psychiatric hospitals. Less than one week after leaving one hospital, I made another attempt. With that track record, I hardly seem like the right person to be stating that tomorrow needs you or me, or sharing about God and his power to heal. However, I believe my track record is the exact reason why I am the right person.

One of my favorite book-adapted film series is The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. In the first movie, 12-year-old Bailey, who is dying of cancer is seen star-gazing with Tibby. Tibby asks her if she’s scared of dying, and Bailey replies, “I’m afraid of time… I’m afraid of what I’ll miss.”

Her reply always confused me. How could she miss anything if she was gone? What is there to miss when you’re sick and hurting? A life of pain, suffering, and mental illness? What could you possibly miss about that? But Bailey was speaking with a wisdom beyond her years. We all understand how a person is missed when they pass away. It could be accidentally, naturally, or a death by suicide at the end of a long road of mental illness. Regardless, the loss is palpable, and there is no doubt the person is missed. However, the person who is missed, is missing out on things as well.

This summer alone, I missed a month of sunshine (hard to come by in Ohio, and hard to accept for this Arizona girl), a month of being home with my husband and our cat, a month of routine and community—overall, a full month of doing a majority of the activities I often times forget I love or take for granted.

It’s painful to imagine what I would have missed had any of my attempts been “successful.” So instead of listing off the things you and I could miss and be missing from, I’ll leave you with one example from my first hospitalization: During the ambulance ride, I told the medic about my brother. He said he had worked with him as an EMT. I proudly told him that Robert had recently received his paramedic certification, in the fall would finish his degree, and would eventually start fire academy training. His response—telling me how great of a guy my brother is—was genuine and made my heart swell.

It was in that moment, in the back of the ambulance, that I quietly wept at the realization that had I ended my life, I never would have seen my baby brother fulfill his dream of becoming a paramedic. Flash forward into the future a little more, and I wouldn’t have been able to pin on his boutineer on his wedding day, kiss him on the cheek before the ceremony, or help his beautiful bride not stress out.

That day needed me to live. Those people needed me to fight and stay. I needed to be there, for myself.

Tomorrow needs me too. I have a husband who needs kissing. I have a cat who needs cuddling (but who mostly needs and wants food). There’s coffee that needs to be drunk, and delicious food to be made and eaten. There are life-giving conversations needing to  take place, and friendships to foster. And I believe God needs me to be alive right now to share my story.

Whether this comes off narcissistic or not: Tomorrow needs me. Tomorrow needs you. Tomorrow needs us. For what, I’m not 100% certain, but isn’t it worth staying to find out?

[mjmuses]

Hurts Like Hell | Tibby

Setting: Murder House, Los Angeles, California.

Date: December 1982 and present day

People: Tibby Mavens, Toby Mavens, Charlie St. James, and masked individuals

Trigger Warning: Blood, violence, death, heartbreak, all that good stuff

Present day:

Sitting on the roof of the infamous Murder House, Tibby gazed out at the multitude of colors that flooded the evening sky. Only times when she could manage to find solitude in a house with hundreds of souls, both living and dead, did she allow herself to succumb to her emotions. To most of the inhabitants, Tibby was cold and distant, but she wasn’t always that way. In fact, once upon a time, she was a happy wife and soon-to-be mom. 

Thirty-six years after the horrible incident, and she still kept the ring that once sat on her finger. Now it was held by a chain and nestled in her bosom, as close to her heart as she could manage. Her hand instinctively went to the ever so slight baby bump that was permanently part of her physique. Even so many decades, it baffled her to think of how her life could change so drastically in one night. 

December 5th, 1982:

The house smelled like cookies that had been baking and the feeling that Christmas was just around the corner. Tibby always loved Christmas and all of the happiness it seemed to bring with it. This particular year, she had even more to be grateful for: she was a newlywed, and three months pregnant with their child. Growing up, she never thought she’d be in such relationship or a mom, but she was the happiest she’d ever been.

Tibby had always known about the house and its eternal tenants, having grown up right across the street. It wasn’t until the year that she met Charlie int 1980 that she knew just how the property could consume someone when her brother met his demise on the property. When she saw the chance, she bought the house and moved in. After a couple of scares, Charlie came to terms with the what the house was and how much it meant to Tibby; after they married, he obliged her and moved in with her. 

3:30 in the morning, Tibby awoke when someone put their hand over her mouth and yanked her from her bed. The culprit was wearing a mask and never spoke, just tightened their grip whenever she would scream or fight. She managed to bite them, making them scream out in pain and allowing herself a chance to get away, but the victory was short-lived when a second assailant appeared, grabbing her once again.

The two tortured her all through the night until they heard a car pull into the driveway, and quickly slashed her throat before running away. She clung so hard to the life that was slipping away from her; unable to make any noise when she heard Charlie calling for her. When he finally entered the room, he fell to her side--she was still tied to a chair, and soaked in red. He applied pressure to her neck as he untied her, allowing her body to fall into his arms. 

Struggling still to cling to her life, she reached up with a shaky hand to dry a tear that was rolling down his cheek. Within seconds, her body went limp in his arms and his sobs could be heard throughout the whole house. 

December 19th, 1982:

It had been a couple of weeks since Charlie had lost Tibby and he kept expecting to hear her voice or see her. After all, if you died on the property, you were stuck there, right? Her brother was there, practically in the flesh, how come she wasn’t? “Tibby, where are you?” he called throughout the house, looking in each and every room. This wasn’t fair, she was supposed to be there. 

After yet another failed attempt to conjure his beloved, Charlie broke down, collapsing on the floor, and lost himself. “Is she here?” he asked when Toby entered the room. Toby furrowed his brow and sat down next to him, trying to be as comforting as he could be. “You’re here.” Toby nodded.

Out of the corner of his eye, Toby saw a figure move in the hallway, and when he turned his attention to it, he saw his sister standing there. She had a pained expression on her face, but quickly made her expression go blank. Toby waited for her to come to them, but she never did. “Can you tell me if she is here or if I’m just talking to the air?” Charlie asked. 

“I, uh...” Toby looked over at his sister and she shook her head, before disappearing. With a sigh of frustration, Toby shook his head. “No, she isn’t here.” He hoped grief-stricken Charlie would be able to read between the lines, but instead, he took Toby’s words at face value. 

“I don’t understand,” Charlie mumbled.

“Me neither,” Toby replied in the same tone and patted Charlie on the back.

~~~~

Later that night, Toby ventured into the library where Tibby would often hide in, dead or alive. He sat down across from her in an oversized leather chair and waited for her to say something, anything. After a few minutes of silence, Toby finally spoke: “I don’t understand, why haven’t you shown yourself to Charlie? You’re both miserable and you don’t have to be. This place gives us a second chance.”

Tibby slowly turned her head to glare at her brother. “A second chance?” The words came out in a growl filled with disgust. “What kind of second chance can we possibly have? He is alive and I am dead. I can’t leave this place; I can’t be with him and give him what either of us wants. What the fuck kind of second chance is this? I get to watch as he grows old and I can’t grow with him? We can never have a family? What about if he stays here and something happens to him? Then he’ll be stuck here forever with me and maybe grow to resent me. I can’t do that.”

“To him, or to yourself? You’re taking away his freedom to choose.” 

Tibby’s snarled at her brother. “I am not doing this to him. He is heartbroken, but he will live. I have made up my mind and he will be fine, he will live. He will grow old and have a family. He will meet someone else and fall in love with her.” Her words made her stomach sour and filled her body with jealousy at the mere idea. “When he realizes I’m not here, he will leave and he will be far away from here. It’s for the best.”

Toby rolled his eyes. “I think for once, you’re being an idiot, but it’s your ‘life’.” 

When Toby finally left the room, Tibby wandered up to their bedroom and stood in the doorway, watching Charlie sleep. Quietly, she snuck over to the bed and sat down next to him. “Tibby?” Charlie mumbled in his sleep. “You’re here.” Tibby smiled, ignoring the tear that rolled down her cheek and leaned in close, kissing him gently. “Why are you crying?” He reached over and put his hand on her cheek. She moved against the palm of his hand and sighed. 

“You have to leave. I don’t want you to grow to hate me, and even if you don’t think it’s possible, it is. Please, just move far away from here and start another life. You need to be with someone who can grow old with you.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I love you. I would never hate you.”

Tibby groaned, taking his hand from her face and into her hands. “You need to leave here and forget about me. I will not watch you die because of me.” Charlie began to protest, but she stopped him. “If you love me, you will do this.”

Charlie stared at her, but finally sighed. As more tears rolled down her cheek, she leaned in and kissed him again. Lingering as she took in everything about him, enough to last for the rest of time. She pulled back slowly. “Goodbye, Charlie.” 

She disappeared before him and ignored when he began calling her name again. This was the right thing to do. 

December 24th, 1982:

The U-Haul was packed up and all reminders of their life together were out of the house. Tibby watched out the bedroom window as he took his last bag to his car and began to get in. With one foot in the car, he paused to look back at the house and caught sight of the beautiful girl he loved watching him. “I love you,” he mouthed before finally getting in and pulling away. 

Present day:

“Tibby,” she heard her name being called from inside, snapping her from her memory.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

The sun had finally set over the Murder House, making Tibby wish she lived somewhere that she could admire the stars. They hid behind the lights of the city, except one that twinkled as though it was there just for her. Her lips turned up ever so slightly at the corner, despite the tears that rolled down her cheek. Her fingers wrapped around the ring, tightly. “I love you, too,” she spoke to the star like it was Charlie before making her way back into the house.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Call It What You Want (Trans!Steve and Pan!Bucky Modern Summer AU)

Forty:

"Mama!" Tibby squealed running into the house and crashed into Darlene's muscular legs.

Darlene smiled and picked Tibby up into her lean arms. Holding Tibby close, Tibby nuzzled her face in Darlene's hair while Darlene stroked her back. Softly, Darlene spoke, "Did you miss me?"

Silently, Tibby nodded and held Darlene just a little tighter. Knowing that Tibby needed cheering up, Darlene began peppering Tibby's face with kisses. Pressing an abundant amount of kisses until Tibby giggled. Steve fondly smiled and dropped his gaze back to the bowl of meat in front of him. Figuring that it was a Mom Thing.

Steve peeked up at the clock and found that it was going on noon. Rolling one more ball, Steve turned to the sink and washed the meat and seasoning from his hands. Quietly excusing himself to use the Barnes' house phone to call Sarah.

Dialing the number, Steve continued until he was in the guestroom. Holding the handheld up to his ear, he patiently waited for someone to answer. Surely, someone would answer, right? Right? They'd be anticipating Steve to call home, yeah? It was his birthday, after all.

Just as Steve started to worry his lip with his teeth, he heard Sarah cheerily answer, "Hello?"

"Hey," Steve replied, exhaling deeply and allowing the anxiety to leave his body.

"Stevie?!" Sarah happily stated, "Goodness, I nearly didn't recognize you. You really are growing up, huh."

"Yeah, yeah," Steve rolled his eyes, but the smile stayed on his face as he mocked, "No need to get emotional now."

"Steven, I am your mother," Sarah feigned sternness, but Steve could hear the smile. She sniffled and admitted, "I just can't believe that my baby is all grown up!"

Steve good-naturedly scoffed, "Okay, okay. None of that."

"All of that," Sarah argued with a giggle. Steve sat down on the bed and Sarah softly told him, "Happy birthday, sweetie. Are you having a good day?"

"Thanks, mom," Steve smiled, briefly wishing that he was home just so he could hug her. Turning his gaze downward, Steve realized that he would be home soon enough, and suddenly, Steve was more than just a little conflicted. Looking down at his painted toes, Steve told her, "It's been okay. We're getting ready for a barbeque."

"Yeah? That sounds exciting," Sarah said. Steve was sure that she was smiling, and he smiled too. She asked, "Hopefully, Nattie's behaving herself."

"Surprisingly --"

"Eddie, shh," Sarah said off the phone, causing Steve to pause. Steve bit back his grin and Sarah sighed, "Eddie wants to talk to you."

"Well," Steve feigned annoyance, "Put him on, I guess."

"He probably wants to talk about Fluffy," Sarah warned.

"How is Meatloaf?" Steve questioned with a chuckle.

"I’m sure Eddie will give you the run down," Sarah teased. Then, she told Steve, "I'm handing over the phone now."

"Okay," Steve agreed, preparing for whatever Eddie was going to tell him.

"Happy birthday to you," Eddie loudly started singing. Steve winced and pulled the phone back from his ear as Eddie continued, "Happy birthday, dear Stevie! Happy birthday to you!"

"Thanks, Ed," Steve told him once he was positive Eddie was done signing. "What are you doing today? Anything fun?"

"Daddy made berry trifle," Eddie spoke loudly.

"Yeah? Is it good?" Steve questioned, reclining back on the bed.

"Dunno," Eddie admitted, then excitedly informed Steve, "Meatloaf is having her babies though!"

"Really?" Steve asked, a large grin crossing his face.

"Yup!" Eddie happily confirmed. Almost as though he was jumping around, as he continued, "You're going to share your birthday with the kittens."

"That's pretty cool," Steve smiled.

There was commotion on the other line and Eddie informed Steve, "Mommy wants to talk to you."

"Okay," Steve agreed, then, before Eddie can pass the phone over, Steve suggested, "Save one for me to name."

"Okay, love you!" Eddie loudly called.

"Love you, too," Steve smiled and waited for the commotion to stop.

"Did Eddie tell you?" Sarah asked.

Steve nodded, "He did. Leave one for me to name?"

Sarah giggled at that and she said, "You can put in your requests once I post pictures."

"Deal," Steve agreed. Chewing on his lower lip, Steve knew that he needed to get off the phone. So, a bit reluctantly he stated, "I should go. Don't want to keep the line tied up."

"Okay, sweetie," Sarah confirmed, "I love you. Happy birthday."

Just like every other birthday, Steve wanted to thank Sarah for so much more than simply wishing him a happy birthday. To thank her for being his family. To thank her for being so supportive. To thank her for giving up her youth. To thank her for choosing to raise him as her own. Instead of saying all of what he was thankful for, Steve went with the simple, "Thanks. I love you, too. Love dad, too."

"He loves you, too," Sarah replied, "He'd tell you himself, if he wasn't busy with Meatloaf."

Steve grinned at that, "I'm sure that he'll message me later."

"I'm sure too," Sarah agreed, telling Steve that she loved him again.

Ending the call, Steve sat there for a moment. Hoping that Sarah knew just how grateful he was for her. Knowing that he was damn lucky to have Sarah and hoping that she knew that.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Call It What You Want (Trans!Steve and Pan!Bucky Modern Summer AU)

Seven:

Turning down another road, they started moving at an incline, finally heading up the mountain. Steve couldn't help but feel like their summer vacation had officially started as they headed up the mountain.

Watching out the windshield, Steve watched as the further they got, the more trees were seen. The trees acting as a barrier the higher up the mountain they traveled. Steve shuddered then. Having a difficult time not thinking about how many people could've gone over the side since there wasn't a very sturdy railing. When there was a railing, that is.

Not wanting to think about dying in a fiery crash, Steve averted his gaze to his lap. Hoping that they were close to their destination. Especially once Natasha dramatically exclaimed, "Civilization!"

Steve looked up then to watch as they passed through a small town. Houses and a school. Churches, lots of churches. And even a post office. Then, it was all gone.

"Well, so much for that," Natasha deadpanned and sighed as they passed the small village.

As Bucky continued driving, Steve couldn't help but wonder how much longer were they going to travel. Especially once his ears popped and he winced at the discomfort. Thankfully, Steve and Natasha were on the same wavelength -- as always -- Natasha loudly complained, "How much longer?"

"Not much," Bucky answered and kept driving.

Natasha groaned in annoyance, "This is taking forev--"

Interrupting her, Bucky pulled into a long gravel driveway. It was so long, in fact, that Steve started to wonder if this was just another road. However, soon enough, the driveway started to curve and a log cabin style house came into view.

Stopping the Bronco in front of the house, Bucky pulled the keys from the ignition and accidentally elbowed Steve in his chest. With his eyes large, Bucky turned to look over at Steve and immediately started to profusely apologize, "I'm so sorry."

Holding his chest, Steve reassured Bucky, "It's okay. Accidents happen." And perhaps, Bucky would've believed Steve, if Natasha hadn't been cackling from beside him.

"I am so, so sorry," Bucky apologized.

"It's fine," Steve reassured again. Elbowing Natasha harshly, Steve hoped that she'd stop laughing and get out of the vehicle already.

Which, thankfully, she did. Well, not with the laughing. But Natasha did open the door. As Natasha climbed out of the vehicle, Bucky did too. Steve took a moment to slightly rub at his chest, near his collarbone where Bucky had accidentally, harshly, elbowed him.

"Nattie!" A younger girl, maybe seven or eight years old, yelled. In her excitement, the girl jumped off the porch and ran towards the teens.

As soon as the girl reached Natasha, she wrapped her tiny arms around Natasha. Shocked by the sudden embrace, Natasha held her arms awkwardly so she wouldn't touch the girl and she turned her head to look at Steve. With eyes wide in her surprise, Steve could tell that he really shouldn't, but he couldn't help it, as he started chuckling.

The little girl peeked around Natasha's slender frame and looked at Steve. Nervously, Steve's chuckles died as he stood there next to the Bronco. Steve loved kids, but they made him nervous. Kids were brutally honest by nature, and it always made Steve's skin feel prickly at what they could say about him.

Natasha noticed the girl looking at Steve, so she decided to avoid any awkwardness by introducing, "This is my friend, Steve."

The girl bashfully hid her face in Natasha's hip, but Steve could see that the corner of her lips were tugged up in a shy smile. Steve smiled at that. As he took a step towards Natasha, to properly greet the girl, another girl, a teen, called from the porch, "God, Tibby they just got here. Let them breathe!"

"I'm just trying to be welcoming, Becca!" Tibby sassed, letting go of Natasha's torso to face her sister on the porch. Pouting, Tibby crossed her arms and tucked her chin down into her chest while she kicked her bare feet in the grass.

Steve was about to comfort the child, but Bucky beat him to it. With both bags slung over each of his shoulders, Bucky started heading to the house and softly touched Tibby's back as he suggested, "C'mon."

And since Bucky was heading for the log cabin house, Steve and Natasha followed. Even though he knew that he shouldn't, Steve couldn't help but watch Bucky's bum as he headed up the porch steps.

A harsh elbow to his ribs caused Steve to avert his gaze to Natasha. Natasha's brows were arched accusatorily, causing Steve's cheeks to immediately heat. His face reddening, Steve dropped his gaze, staring down at his feet as he followed Bucky into the house.

[loveforpreserumsteve]

A Place to Fall (skinny!Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes Modern College AU)

Nineteen:

Fixing the faux cherry on the top of Tibby's head, Bucky kneeled in front of his sister. Once the pom-pom was in the place that Tibby wanted it to be, Bucky shared an excited grin with her before standing again.

"Are you sure you don't want to put on another sweater?" Bucky asked Tibby for the fifth time.

Tibby rolled her eyes and said, "I'm already wearing three!"

Bucky held his hands up in mock surrender and exchanged an eye roll with Steve. Steve replied with a silent shrug and followed the kindergartner downstairs to the first floor. There was no doubt that Tibby was stubborn, but she was a six year old who was ready to trick-or-treat. So, Steve couldn't blame her.

As she tugged on her glittery sneakers, Becca called out, "Hey, Tib, bring back lots of candy."

Tibby smiled, showing off that she was missing a few teeth, and quickly stood. Excited to finally get to go. Especially after Bucky meticulously attempted to prepare her for the weather. Even though Tibby's sundae costume consisted of a thick white sweatshirt, brown shawl with construction paper "sprinkles", and thick tan sweatpants that had the design of a waffle cone.

Of course, that didn't stop Bucky from acting on his overprotective brother role and worrying about Tibby getting sick due to the chilly weather. It also didn't stop Steve from absolutely melting. It was unavoidable. Undeniable.

"Here," Bucky declared, handing Steve a jacket. Steve's brow quirked as he looked down at both the tan jacket and the Heather blue sweatshirt that he was already wearing. Bucky sweetly demanded, "Just put it on. It's cold out." Then, Bucky teased, "I'd hate for you to get sick and miss out on the first great snowfall."

Worrying his lower lip, Steve had to refrain from overanalyzing Bucky's intentions. Really though, that was easier said than done. Especially when all Steve wanted to do was think about how Bucky absolutely must feel something for Steve since he insisted that Steve wear one of his jackets because he didn't want Steve to get sick. Steve couldn't remember anyone -- outside his family -- that cared about Steve's health.

So, Steve slipped into the jacket, and allowed his heart to stutter at the pleased smile on Bucky's perfect mouth.

Bucky held the door open and gestured for Tibby and Steve to exit the brownstone. Tibby went first, skipping down the steps and hopping off the last step. Steve went next; once at the bottom, Tibby grabbed a hold of Steve's hand.  Never having siblings or cousins, Steve wasn't used to this.

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Bucky teased when Tibby started pulling Steve down the sidewalk in the direction of other trick-or-treaters.

Chuckling, Steve turned halfway around and held out his other hand for Bucky to grab a hold of. Never thinking that Bucky would actually take his hand. When Bucky did, Steve's breath hitched and he was positive that he was going to die right then and there. Die and go straight to heaven.

"Bruh, trying to be the best big brother?" Bucky teased, giving Steve's hand a comforting squeeze before, unfortunately, letting go of Steve's hand.

Trying to ignore the warmth leaving his skin, Steve shoved his free hand into the pocket of the borrowed jacket. In reply, Steve shrugged and reminded Bucky, "You did offer me one of your sisters because you have three."

"I did," Bucky agreed with a small sigh. Theatrically tilting his head up to stare at the sky before pouting, "But I thought you'd take one of the others. Not my favorite."

"Beggars can't be choosers," Steve mockingly mused.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but the grin on his face was amused. As they reached the next brownstone, Tibby let go of Steve's hand to run up the steps to knock on the door. Once the door opened, Bucky's elderly neighbor greeted Tibby with a smile as she complimented the small child's costume while placing a full size candy bar into the glow-in-the-dark pale.

As Tibby happily skipped down the steps to join Steve and Bucky, Bucky asked Tibby, "What do you say," and Steve's knees felt weak.

Of course, there was absolutely no future with Bucky. Especially not one with a picket fence and kids. Yet…

"Thank you!" Tibby yelled before starting to skip down the sidewalk to the next house.

Steve followed and gave Bucky a sideways glance. However, Steve quickly looked away when he found that Bucky was already looking at him. Steve's heart was racing, but he felt compelled to look over at Bucky again. So, Steve chanced another glance. Sure enough, Bucky gazed over at Steve.

Sincerely chuckling, Bucky bumped his shoulder against Steve's and told Steve, "I'm really glad that you decided to hang out."

"Yeah?" Steve questioned, sounding much too surprised for his own liking.

"Yeah," Bucky confirmed with a chuckle. Still following Tibby as she quickly made her way down the line of brownstones, Bucky considered, "Does it not seem like I enjoy hanging out with you?"

Steve thought for a moment before conceding, "I guess, I'm just not used to… having friends."

"Well," Bucky let out a heavy sigh. Then, he reassured Steve, "Now you do."

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Summer In Your Eyes (Lifeguard!Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes Modern Summer AU)

Three:

Bucky's eyes hadn't been closed for longer than an hour before he felt someone poking an indent into his cheek. Bucky groaned for the person to leave him alone. In hopes to deter the person, Bucky turned his head so he was resting on his sore cheek. Of course, that didn't stop them. Instead, they just moved onto abusing his other cheek.

"This is why you always get a full face of shaving cream at sleep overs," a raspy voice stated in mock disappointment.

It didn't take long for Bucky's eyelids to fly open and for him to roll onto his back to get a better look of the girl sitting on the bed next to him: Natasha Romanoff. Of course, due to Bucky's abrupt action and the small bed, she nearly toppled off the side. With a giggle and a snort, she regained her balance and teased, "You excited to see me? Or am I better in your dreams?" Even wiggling her eyebrows playfully, causing Bucky to laugh.

Sitting up, Bucky accepted Natasha's invitation of a hug and wrapped his arms firmly around her torso. Although Natasha's frame was naturally tiny, she gave Bucky's body a squeeze that felt strong enough to break his ribs. If she wanted to. Luckily, Natasha didn't. Instead, she pulled back and held Bucky's shoulders as she studied him at arms-length.

Bucky wondered what Natasha saw. His hair was longer. Not too long though. Just longer than the last time she saw him last. Which was two spring break vacations ago. Bucky was taller. More gangly. More awkward. But for the most part, Bucky thought he looked exactly the same.

As Bucky's brows furrowed under Natasha's scrutiny, Natasha flashed an endearing grin and exhaled a sigh of relief, "There's James."

Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes at Natasha using his real name and he pushed her hands off his shoulders. Natasha feigned hurt -- even pouting her lower lip for added affect -- as she asked, "Didn't you miss me in the slightest?"

"Nah," Bucky teased as he looked her over.

Natasha had changed more than Bucky had in the wake of each other's absences. Her hair was shorter, in a blunt cut that reached towards her shoulders, and had been dyed red. Not just any red. Firetruck red. Like The Little Mermaid. It suited her well.

Scratching his chin in a pensive manner, Bucky mocked, "Something's different about you, hmm? What is it?"

Natasha matched Bucky's mockery and her face scrunched the way that it typically did when she was thinking. Whether real or imaginary. "Maybe," she drawled, "It's because I've grown three inches."

Bucky pretended to think before finally shaking his head, "No, it isn't that…"

"Maybe," Natasha perked, sitting up a little straighter and glanced down at her body, "It's that I've... filled out."

With a smirk and a quirked brow, Bucky briefly broke character to glance at Natasha's chest. Indeed, her body had naturally developed predictably. Pretending to be impressed, Bucky nodded congratulatory at Natasha's natural achievement the same way that she had done when Bucky's voice started to crack all those years ago.

Natasha stood from Bucky's bed then and bowed while Bucky applauded. Even standing to give her a theatrical standing ovation. To keep up the charade, Natasha started exaggeratedly posing like a pinup model.

Giggling because of their antics, Bucky pulled Natasha in for another hug. Ruffling the red strands, Bucky told her, "It looks good. It suits you."

"Ya think?" Natasha asked, cocking her head to the side and narrowing her eyes, studying Bucky to see if he was lying to her in any way possible. Bucky nodded his confirmation and she questioned, "Why?"

With a dramatic, wistful sigh, Bucky held his hand up to his heart and set his gaze into the ceiling in far off wonderment, "Because you are the heart and soul of my existence."

Natasha cackled at that and tugged Bucky towards the door while suggesting, "C'mon, let's go to the pit."

Although Bucky would rather do anything other than hang out at the lake channel twenty minutes away, he still followed Natasha downstairs. Bucky's family was still getting situated in the house, but Natasha hopping off the second to last step caused Tibby to momentarily stop dressing Loki up as a princess.

Tibby turned, fairy godmother wand in hand, to watch the two older teens. Looking entirely surprised by Natasha not following the Barnes' rules of no jumping and no running in the house. Tibby lowered her voice, "Mommy wouldn't like that."

"It's okay," Natasha winked at Tibby and lied, "I'm a spy, so I can do whatever I want."

Good-humoredly scoffing, Bucky grabbed Natasha's arm and pulled her out of the house. Once outside, Bucky joked, "If Tibby starts climbing bookcases and back flipping off them, I’m not even going to hesitate to put all the blame on you."

"Please," Natasha playfully rolled her eyes and scoffed, "I'll be the one showing her the proper form and give her a score of straight tens."

"You're ridiculous," Bucky chuckled, dropping Natasha's arm.

Opening the driver side of her magenta 1998 Nissan Sentra, Natasha claimed, "I think you're just jealous."

"Is that so?" Bucky asked, climbing into the passenger seat.

Wiggling her eyebrows and flashing a devilish grin, Natasha confirmed, "Yup."

"Well, let's not open that can of worms," Bucky teased as Natasha started the pre-owned car and gracefully pulled out of the driveway.

"Fine," Natasha feigned exasperation and Bucky couldn't help but look at her with the utmost of adoration. Even when she purposely played the one genre of music that Bucky couldn't stand, just to mess with him while turning and taking the long way.