#custom made nerf

[pumpkinscustoms]

Year of the Snake LPS custom

Hello, you lovely people of Tumblr. I made another custom. Look at it. January 29th was the Lunar New Year that celebrated the start of the year of the snake! Yippee! It also happened to be my 24th birthday, meaning I'm now old, and I was born in 01, meaning my horoscope is a snake The 29th was triple cool for me because of everything that was happening! And then I got nerfed like Brigitta in 2019 which made me stop playing OW. I had a slight case of iron deficiency haha :sunglasses: I'm better now. I cannot be stopped.

I'm also adding some art commission slots in my shop sometime soon so if you want cool LPS-style art of your OCs, keep an eye out for those. I wanna buy a rice cooker and I need someone to fund that. That someone is you buying art from me >:)

Love you all weird Tumblr people. I still don't know how this site works, but I am learning. This place is weird.

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 7 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 9 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: hihi!! i would’ve updated sooner, but unfortunately, my body decided to nerf me with a sickness debuff. tragic. 😔 BUT!!! i had so much fun writing this chapter. like, full-on giggling to myself like a mad scientist. i really hope you guys enjoy it!! (or at the very least find it as funny as my fever-ridden brain did)

The day starts like any other. Which is to say, badly.

Greg the Manager, who has been conveniently absent all morning, suddenly materializes with the urgency of a man who just remembered his parole officer exists. He’s slightly out of breath, like he sprinted exactly halfway here and then gave up. His tie is loose, his shirt is untucked, and his eyes have the glazed-over look of someone who is about to make their incompetence your problem.

“Oh, by the way, a news crew is coming in five minutes.”

You pause mid-coffee pour. The statement is so absurd, so wildly out of pocket, that your brain flatlines for a solid three seconds. “A what.”

Greg, already retreating like the rat he is, waves a dismissive hand. “Yeah, yeah, some feel-good story about supporting small businesses or whatever. They called a few weeks ago? Thought it’d be good PR. Forgot to tell you. Anyway, good luck!”

You stare at him, waiting for some kind of elaboration. An explanation. An apology. A joke. Anything.

“And you’re telling me this now?”

Greg shrugs, the human embodiment of the ‘Not My Problem’ energy. “I forgot.”

“Greg.”

“Gotta go, bro.” And like that, he vanishes, as if he were never there to begin with.

You stand there, emotionally buffering. You stare at the empty space where he once stood, trying to come to terms with the fact that a news crew is about to descend upon your personal hellscape with exactly zero warning. You look down at your apron, which has a very concerning stain on it (origin unknown), and realize your only hope is radical acceptance.

There’s no time to panic. You take a deep breath, straighten your apron, and slap on your best retail smile—the one that says I hate my job but I need to pay rent!

The café door swings open, and in comes the news crew with the confidence of people who have never suffered a single day in food service. The camera crew bustles in, setting up tripods, adjusting microphones, and looking around like they’re trying to absorb the rich ambiance of your workplace. Which, to be clear, smells like burnt espresso and quiet desperation.

The reporter, a professionally dressed woman with overly bright eyes and the enthusiasm of someone who has never once been berated by a middle-aged woman demanding to know why oat milk costs extra, beams at you. "We’re so excited to feature your charming little café!"

The words I would rather die are on the tip of your tongue, but you figure that’s not what she wants to hear. Instead, you nod politely. “We are also excited.”

She turns toward a customer near the window—Muffin Guy, your most mysterious regular. He sits in his usual spot, staring unblinkingly at the muffin before him, as if waiting for it to reveal a prophecy.

The reporter, undeterred by the strange aura surrounding him, approaches. “We love to highlight loyal customers!” she chirps. “Sir, could you tell us what you love most about this café?”

Silence.

The camera zooms in.

Muffin Guy does not blink.

He does not move.

He does not acknowledge the camera, the reporter, or the fundamental concept of human interaction.

The silence stretches.

The tension is suffocating. The reporter’s smile wavers. A single bead of sweat rolls down the intern’s forehead. Someone in the back coughs.

The reporter, clearly regretting all of her life choices, tries again. “Sir?”

Still nothing.

The camera stays on him for a full twenty seconds.

It is unbearable.

You mentally check out just as the reporter shifts focus to you, her expression slightly cracked but still hopeful. “So, tell us about this lovely café.”

You recite your dead-inside script: “We serve coffee. Sometimes people drink it.”

There is a beat of silence.

The reporter’s enthusiasm dims like a cheap LED bulb. “Wonderful.”

The reporter, visibly eager to move on from whatever existential nightmare Muffin Guy just put her through, scans the café for her next victim. You can see the calculations happening in real time behind her eyes: Okay, that guy and the barista were a bust, but surely the next person will be normal.

Unfortunately, she picks Choso.

Choso, who has been standing near the counter watching you with his usual unblinking intensity, straightens up as she approaches. You can tell he's eager to be of assistance, but his posture is too stiff, his expression too serious, and he moves with the slow, deliberate energy of a cryptid trying to blend into human society.

“How about you?” The reporter smiles, extending the mic. “What’s your name?”

Choso stares at her for a beat too long, like he’s mentally reviewing whether or not he should tell her. Finally, he leans toward the microphone. “Hello,” he says in his usual dead-serious monotone. “I am Choso."

The way he delivers it makes it sound like a warning. Like he's introducing himself as an omen of death.

The reporter, momentarily thrown off by his delivery, laughs nervously. “Oh! And what do you like about this café?”

Choso considers this. Too long.

Like, way too long.

The camera guy shifts. The boom mic sags. The intern wipes a bead of sweat from his brow.

Finally, Choso nods to himself, having seemingly reached a conclusion of great personal significance. A normal person would say something safe like the coffee or the atmosphere or that it’s not a Denny’s. But Choso is not normal. “The barista.”

The camera zooms in on your horrified expression.

The world stops. The temperature drops. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks.

The reporter blinks. Once. Twice. Three times, like she’s trying to reboot her system. Her professional instincts desperately try to steer this awkward trainwreck back onto the tracks. “And what about the drinks?”

Choso nods, like this is an acceptable question. “The lattes bring me peace.”

The reporter hesitates. “They… bring you peace?”

“Yes.” Choso stares directly into the camera, like he’s about to issue a public service announcement. His expression is completely unreadable. “I have known suffering. But the lattes are satisfactory.”

There is an audible silence. The kind that only happens when everyone in the room is simultaneously thinking Oh, this man has killed someone before. It’s like everyone suddenly realizes they are part of something far bigger than themselves. Something unknowable. Something profoundly unsettling. Somewhere in the background, Yuji is shaking his head like a man watching a car crash in slow motion.

There is no appropriate response to this, and yet the reporter is contractually obligated to continue this interview. “...Right. And, uh, what do you do?”

Choso doesn't hesitate. “I protect my brother.” he answers with a hint of pride.

“Oh!” The reporter latches onto this like a drowning woman grasping for a life preserver. “That’s… nice?”

Choso tilts his head, as if considering the very concept of “nice.” Then, as if suddenly struck by divine realization, he adds, “I would also protect the barista. If required.”

You nearly choke on your own spit.

The reporter, alarmed, shifts slightly away from him. “...Required from what?”

Choso does not blink. “Threats.”

“What… kind of threats?”

Choso narrows his eyes. “Unclear. But I remain vigilant.”

The weight of that statement sinks into the room. The energy shifts. The café suddenly feels smaller.

Then, with no warning, Choso reaches into his coat.

The reporter flinches. The intern drops his clipboard. The cameraman tenses, like he’s about to record a live crime.

Yuji, who knows exactly where this is going, starts waving his arms in the background like a man desperately trying to stop a rogue missile launch.

Choso pulls out… a single hard-boiled egg.

The collective exhale from the crew is audible.

Solemnly, as if this is the most important action he will ever take, Choso extends the egg to you.

“Eat.”

You stare at the egg, then at him, then at the egg again.

You clear your throat. “I, uh... Thanks, Choso.”

Choso nods once, as if you’ve just agreed to some kind of unspoken contract.

The reporter looks at the camera like she is moments from calling the police.

While the reporter is still trying to process the whole mildly threatening egg presentation situation, Gojo—human calamity, agent of chaos, destroyer of peace—has decided that his one and only mission is to singlehandedly ruin every single camera shot.

The moment the cameraman turns around, Gojo materializes behind the reporter, flashing a double peace sign like he’s about to drop the hottest mixtape of the century. His grin is blinding. His sunglasses somehow catch every possible light source.

The cameraman pivots, adjusting the shot.

Somehow, impossibly, Gojo is already there.

This time, he’s leaning against the counter, holding a latte he definitely did not pay for, sipping obnoxiously with exaggerated flair. He winks at the camera like he’s in an over-the-top commercial for overpriced cologne. If he had a fan blowing his hair back in slow motion, it would be perfect.

“Sir, please move,” the cameraman pratically begs.

Gojo, unfazed, turns his full attention to the lens.

“HELLOOOOO~,” Gojo sings, waving both hands like a game show host who has just revealed a brand-new car. “I’M THE FACE OF THIS ESTABLISHMENT!”

This is objectively false.

Before you can attempt damage control, Gojo launches himself next to you like a man with zero impulse control and a PhD in being a public nuisance. He throws an arm around your shoulders, his sunglasses catching the light dramatically, making it impossible to tell if he’s about to endorse your café or announce the second coming of Christ.

“This barista?” he announces dramatically, pointing at you with a flourish like he’s about to knight you on national television. “The best. The backbone of this place.”

Yuji, in the background, is visibly panicking. “Gojo-sensei, please. No.”

Gojo completely ignores him. Instead, he strikes a different pose, basking in the camera’s attention like it physically sustains him.

“I come here every single day,” he declares with the confidence of a man who lies recreationally.

You narrow your eyes. “You show up, like, once a week at best.”

Gojo ignores you, too.

The reporter, attempting to maintain some semblance of control, nods hesitantly. “Oh! So you’re a regular—”

“You know why?” Gojo interrupts and then pauses, letting the tension build as if he’s delivering the monologue of a lifetime. “The experience. The drama. The coffee that, against all odds, continues to exist despite this machine’s cursed energy.”

He gestures vaguely to the espresso machine.

As if in response, the espresso machine lets out a deep, unsettling groan that seems to reverberate through the walls.

The reporter looks horrified. “Cursed—what?”

“Nothing!” Yuji yelps, visibly panicked, as he attempts to grab Gojo. “He’s joking! Joking! Ha ha ha!”

Gojo, still completely ignoring Yuji, gestures dramatically to the café at large.

“I’m just saying,” he continues, effortlessly resisting Yuji’s efforts, “the vibes? Unmatched.” He motions toward Muffin Guy, who is still staring directly into the camera like an urban legend caught on night vision footage. “Where else do you find a guy like that?”

The cameraman—who is either an artist or a man in the process of losing his grip on reality—zooms in on Muffin Guy.

It is haunting.

Yuji tries to grab him once more. Gojo dodges effortlessly, throwing up finger guns at the camera.

“Hashtag Support Local Businesses!”

You consider whether it's legally permissible to quit mid-shift.

The reporter, who looks like she has aged twenty years in the past five minutes and like she's beginning to suspect that this café is actually some kind of underground social experiment, attempts to regain control.

Before she can salvage any part of this nightmare of an interview, the door opens.

The camera instinctively pans toward the entrance. The crew is expecting another customer, maybe, finally, someone normal.

They are wrong.

Toji walks in, moving with the kind of dangerous ease that suggests he’s about five seconds away from committing a felony or taking a nap—whichever comes first.

Toji, who was very much not expecting cameras, tilts his head slightly, his eyes flicking to the reporter, then the crew, then to you.

You lock eyes with him.

You watch, helpless, as he slowly takes in the situation.

Then, with the kind of ease that only comes from years of very questionable decision-making, he smirks.

“Damn. This place got cameras now? What is this, evidence?”

Behind him, Shiu walks in, immediately lights a cigarette inside the café like a man who has never respected a single law in his life, then realizes—far too late—that there are cameras everywhere. 

Slowly, with the calculated movement of a man processing a series of very poor life choices, he lowers the cigarette, muttering under his breath, “Oh, shit.”

The reporter goes still.

You can see the realization dawn on her face—the slow, sinking horror that she has just stumbled into something she was never supposed to witness. The reporter looks at you, eyes wide with concern.

You meet her gaze, deadpan.

You just nod.

By the time the segment actually airs, it is nothing like the wholesome, feel-good small-business feature it was supposed to be. Instead of showcasing a “quirky but struggling café,” the final product is an absolute trainwreck.

The official headline?

"Muffin Man, Mystery Egg, and Wanted Criminal? Local Café More Concerning Than Quirky."

It gets worse.

The tone of the segment suggests the café is possibly haunted, a front for illegal activity, and a gathering spot for deeply concerning individuals. It does not encourage people to visit. It warns them. Every shot looks like it was pulled from an unreleased horror documentary about places you should not go. The ominous background music—something that belongs in a Dateline special—only adds to the effect. 

The highlights include:

The news crew inexplicably leaving in the full, unbroken 15 seconds of Muffin Guy staring directly into the camera like he’s either a demon or an AI-generated horror experiment. No words. No movement. Just him, staring—waiting—as if challenging the audience to comprehend his existence. The way they edit it makes it look like he’s part of some psychological horror movie, a lost soul trapped between dimensions.

Choso’s interview, which, thanks to the dramatic lighting and his very serious tone, is framed like a true crime documentary. They use dramatic zoom-ins on his expression, emphasizing the fact that he looks way too intense for a man talking about coffee. The way he deadpans “I have known suffering. But the lattes are satisfactory.” is played over eerie background music, making it sound like he's fought in at least three wars, suffered great personal loss, and only finds solace in lattes. The words "Remains Vigilant Against Threats.” slide across the screen in bold letters.

Gojo and Yuji wrestling in the background while Gojo dramatically yells, “They can’t prove I don’t work here!” The footage is grainy, shaky, and the captions just read: [Incoherent yelling] as Yuji desperately tries to prevent Gojo from launching himself directly into the camera.

Toji, smirking at the camera, casually implying he is a wanted fugitive. The producers slow down his words for dramatic effect: “Damn. This place got cameras now? What is this, evidence?” followed by a zoom-in of his grin and the words: "??? Unknown Criminal Activity ???"

The espresso machine, actively rattling and smoking in the background of multiple shots. At one point, the camera catches it letting out a deep, unsettling groan, and they overlay dramatic violin music as the reporter visibly recoils. The segment's b-roll footage of the café includes multiple instances of the espresso machine shaking, glitching out, and occasionally making a noise that sounds vaguely like a demonic whisper. The captions simply read: [UNSETTLING METALLIC GROAN]

Greg the Manager, with the most suspicious phrasing humanly possible, stating, “We’re totallyyy not violating health codes!” The phrasing alone guarantees that everyone now believes the café is absolutely violating health codes. The camera cuts immediately after, giving it the same energy as a villain’s last known sighting before fleeing the country.

There is a random, blurry, and heavily pixelated, freeze-frame of Greg at the end of the segment, edited in black and white, with the words: “DOES THIS MAN KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING?”

The answer is no.

And finally, the closing words from the reporter, who stares deadpan into the camera, fully drained of life and hope, and states with exhausted finality:

“I am never going back there.”

The screen cuts to black.

A single ominous boom sound plays.

Gojo, watching the segment from his phone at full volume in the café, nods to himself, clearly proud of his work. “We did great!”

Yuji is actively attempting to dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Choso, on the other hand, looks genuinely pleased. He gives a slow, approving nod. “I have promoted the barista’s establishment.”

You stare at him. “That was not promotion, that was a federal warning.”

Gojo waves a dismissive hand. “Details, details.”

You don’t have the energy to argue. You’re already preparing for the worst when you walk into work the next morning.

You expect Greg the Manager to be pacing anxiously, waiting for someone from the health department to shut the place down.

You expect fewer customers because, surely, surely, no sane human being would willingly come to a place that was just portrayed as a front for criminal activity, a ghost-infested hellhole, and a potential cult meeting ground all in one.

You do not expect to see a line out the door.

You stop in your tracks, processing the sight of dozens of people wrapped around the block, all eagerly waiting to enter the chaos.

The café is more popular than ever. People aren’t scared. They’re curious.

Inside, Greg—who has learned absolutely nothing—is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Dude, FREE PUBLICITY!” he cheers, spinning in circles like a man who thinks chaos is good for business. "We need to, like, start making merch!"

You stare at him. Then at the never-ending line of morbidly curious customers.

Then at the espresso machine, which lets out a low, menacing growl.

Then at Muffin Guy, who is—as always—unmoving.

Then at Choso, who is standing in his usual spot by the counter, nodding approvingly, like he has manifested this outcome through sheer force of will.

Slowly, you reach into your pocket, pull out your phone, and start updating your resume.

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: fun fact: this chapter is based on my real-life nightmare scenario. i have never been a barista, but i have worked in an animal shelter (as a manager, no less—why did they trust me with that? unclear.), and i still have war flashbacks to the absolute menaces that walked through those doors. (there was a time when a man i instantly recognized from a local true crime documentary tried to adopt a dog from us?? he was found innocent because of very questionable reasons so needless to say i was terrified the whole time lmfao)

one day, the higher-ups told me the news was coming to interview us, and i lived in pure fear from that moment on. i spent days spiraling, imagining the absolute worst possible situations. (what if i tripped over a dog? what if i accidentally said something insane on live tv? what if i just. forgot how to speak?) i had actual nightmares about it. thankfully, they never came while i worked there, but the fear? the dread? permanently ingrained in my soul. so naturally, i had to make the barista suffer through it. :)

also!! just a heads-up—i wrote another side story for a choso x reader request set in the minimum wage, maximum suffering universe! not canon to the main fic, just a fun little “what if” scenario, feel free to check it out! as always, thank you so much for reading and your feedback!! reading your reactions makes my day, and i’m so grateful for everyone enjoying this little unhinged fic. hope you all enjoyed the chaos of this chapter!!

₊⊹. tag list: @alpha-mommy69 @luluminati @amortsukii-writes @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist @not-aya @emochosoluvr @lov3vivian @literallyushiwaka @kodditty @arrozyfrijoles23

[thestarsloth]

MORE pjo headcaonons:

Piper only ever wears one of her backpack's straps

Annabeth CANNOT cook, so everyone else takes turns cooking, and annabeth is allowed to relax

After a while, the seven, nico, reyna, rachel and grover also started eating blue food

Hazel does embroidery and she is SO TALENTED - her designs look professional

Frank has a bracelet hazel made him tied to his bow

Leo has a habit of falling asleep while doing things, and piper always covers him with a blanket (after taking stupid pictures of him) i love their friendshiiippppp

Reyna is surprisingly good at dancing and Piper always hypes her up you cannot tell me theyre not besties

Jason and Hazel stayed a whole day in front of a tv to catch up on the movies

Rachel does pottery and makes custom mugs for everyone

When piper was little she loved keeping bugs as pets you cannot convince me otherwise

Hazel is really into scrapbooking and everyone gives her stuff to add in her pages

Percy buys everyone stuffed animals

After some time, jasons ambrosia started to taste like food from camp half blood again i am crying

Leo has a giant nerf gun

Piper is the best at mario cart (even better than leo) and generally beats everyone at everything when they have video game nights

Hazel and Piper make diy makeup together

Jason has a soft spot for scented candles (piper and leo always gift him some)

[missmonstermel]

Some wild gear for Fati Boom!Boom! character for @neotropolisevent The captain of the feared, lovee and loathed band of space pirates the SPACE SHARKS! Thank you to @munkmarvelous for the bandolier/ suspender harness guidance. Light up skull is a casting from @skullerygram , I imagine that skull unit as a semi sentient creature that is so evil that it is fissile and has been harnessed as a power source for Fati's custom scorcher pistol. The pistol is a painted/ modified @nerf gun. The white skirt is made of cut plastic with shapes based on shark denticles. Fati Boom!Boom! got her name because of her love for explosives and you can see she carries a couple of mines on her belt. The large clawed weapon is a piece I made using @sendcutsend from aluminum, the claws can swivel open. Can't wait to wear everything together 👀👀👀👀

[fuck-customers]

Ma'am, I say this with all due respect, but you made a reservation for your event 2 hours before it's scheduled time. Yes, we have openings, but that doesn't mean we have the option to make wild customizations within that time frame. If you had given, say, 48hrs notice? We'd definitely see what we could do! But 2 hours is ridiculous

No, we cannot take possession of a brand new 2025 iPhone and hide it in our store for a scavenger hunt for your child. We cannot due this for insurance purposes. The fact that you ASKED us to do this is downright baffling. If it were something small like a nerf gun? Sure. Whatever. But an iPhone? Absolutely not. We can't even take possession of a ring over $50 for marriage proposals

I understand you want to throw a Childhood Magic Birthday Party for your Special Lil Guy, but it's a little short notice to be asking that much don't you think?

Posted by admin Rodney

[princessmisery666]

Prank War - Part 2

Summary: Someone will be crowned King or Queen of Pranks 2025.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, harmless pranks, implied smut.

W/C: 3,415

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Reader.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Challenge: @alphabetquest Prompt: Prank war. 

Notes: Sam Wilson is Captain America. 

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch

Graphics: made by me on Canva. Divider by @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: Marvel // Main

Catch up now - Part 1

I do not give consent for this or any other of my works to be reposted/reworked or translated on to any other account or platform.

Please support content creators. Reblog. Comment. Like.

The next morning, you wake up to find Bucky’s side of the bed empty. Not unusual, he’s an early riser, but today is no ordinary day. There’s an air of anticipation that immediately sets you on edge. You throw on some sweats and cautiously open the door, peering into the hallway. It looks clear, but you know better than to trust appearances.

You take a hesitant step as if testing the water temperature, and your eyes dart back and forth for any signs of foul play.

Bucky knows you’re not a morning person, so would he target you so early? You don’t think so. Sam would. But if you know Sam, and you do, he’s probably planning a double whammy to get you and Bucky simultaneously.

Ten or so steps from the door, feeling confident that neither man will be brave enough to poke to bear before 9 a.m., you let your guard down.

Big mistake. 

A faint twang hits your ears before you feel a wire tug against your shins. 

“Oh shit,” you mutter, realizing your mistake a second too late. 

A mechanism overhead hisses, and in an instant, a gallon of syrup dumps onto your head. The thick, sticky liquid clings to your hair, clothes, and skin. You sputter, wiping syrup from your eyes, when you hear another hiss. 

WHOOSH.

An avalanche of feathers rains down from the ceiling, probably from Clint’s arrow supplies. They cling to the syrup like velcro. By the time it’s over, you’re a walking, dripping, feathery monstrosity.

“Bucky!” You yell, knowing full well he’s lurking somewhere nearby.

His laughter echoes down the hall, but he isn’t brave enough to face you. Instead, he calls out, “Good morning, sweetheart.” 

Oh, it’s so on!

Later, when you’ve cleaned off as many feathers as possible, you find Sam in the common room. He’s sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone.

He gives you a once-over, smirking as stray feathers cling to your pajama bottoms. “Rough morning?” he asks, barely holding back a grin. 

“Better than yours is about to be,” you mutter, but he doesn’t catch it.

“You walked into a trap,” he laughs. 

“It was a trap,” you admit, sipping your coffee. “But it wasn’t set for me. I know Bucky. Feathers? Come on, it wasn't meant for me. I just happened to be up earlier than usual.” 

Sam snorts. “You think you know us that well, huh?”

“I do.” 

“You’ve got a long way to go if you’re gonna out-prank us. But hey, I'm rooting for you. Bucky deserves whatever you’ve got planned.”

“He does,” you say, feigning nonchalance as you press a hidden button on your phone.

Seconds later, the bottom of Sam’s coffee cup falls away, soaking his lap in lukewarm coffee. He jumps up, sputtering, and stares at the destroyed cup. “What the…”

“Rough morning?” you jest, walking away.

“You don’t mess with a man’s coffee!” Sam calls after you.

Bucky is meticulous about his combat gear, so it’s no surprise to find him cleaning and organizing his knives in the tack room. He doesn’t notice you lurking by the door with a custom Nerf gun loaded with foam darts coated in adhesive. 

Taking aim, you steady your breath and unleash a hail of darts. “Target acquired,” you announce triumphantly, laughing as the darts stick to his metal arm, forehead, and chest. 

He freezes, taking the assault in stride, and once you're out of ammo, he raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “That’s the best you’ve got?” 

“Not quite,” you smirk. 

He tries to peel a dart off his arm, but it doesn’t move. He tugs harder, and the dart snaps back into place as if spring loaded.  

“You didn’t?” he sneers. 

You blow him a kiss and saunter toward the door. “You’re not the only one good with sticky stuff.”

Bucky chuckles. “Alright, doll, you’ve officially joined the war.”

The next few hours are filled with petty pranks. 

Bucky retaliates with a series of small, sneaky pranks. He replaces your toothpaste with mayonnaise (gross), swaps the sugar in your coffee for salt (disgusting), and somehow manages to rig your favorite chair to let out a loud whoopee cushion sound when you sit down to start an online meeting. 

But you bide your time, waiting to hit him where it hurts—the gym. 

Bucky likes to work out to music, and nothing drives him crazier than not having the perfect song to listen to while he lifts weights, runs, or is sparring. You log into his Spotify account—he made the rookie mistake of leaving it open on his phone—and queue an endless loop of Baby Shark.

You sit on the couch, pretending to read a book, and can barely contain your smile as he storms across the room. 

“Baby Shark? Really?” he growls, holding up his phone.

“Better than Barbie Girl.” You shrug. “Don’t mess with me, Barnes.”

His eyes narrow. “This means war, doll.”

Sam takes a different approach by targeting you both, but he seems to be taking a gentler approach with you. The saran wrap sealing the bathroom doorway you walk into face first is child’s play compared to what he does to Bucky. You don’t trust him, though, staying vigilant as you take a few hours to relax while Bucky is busy training new SHIELD recruits.

Sam can’t stop fidgeting as you eye him surreptitiously over the edge of your book. He rushes out of the room only to return a moment later, chuckling as he rubs his hands together. Finally, Clint, who never seems like he’s paying attention but sees everything, has had enough. “Come on, Wilson, give it up. What have you done?” 

“Wait here.”

If Clint is involved, you know it isn’t a trick, so you wait while Sam literally bolts from the room, returning with his laptop and setting it on the breakfast bar. On the screen, there is a 4-way split image showing the training room a few floors below.

Bucky glares at the group of young soldiers who are warming up. He’s in full tactical gear, his metal arm glistening under the overhead lights. His stance is all business, his eyes sharp as he evaluates their form and technique.

“Alright,” Bucky commands, “pair up and get ready for hand-to-hand drills. You’ve got two minutes to show me what you’ve got.” 

The recruits scramble to follow his orders, and you see a flicker of pride cross his face. He’s in his element, doing something good. He’s confident and focused.

But then it happens. 

Quack. 

It’s subtle, just a faint sound as Bucky shifts his weight. He doesn’t seem to notice, too busy correcting a man’s stance. 

Quack, quack. 

The second quack is louder. This time, one of the recruits falters mid-move. They glance around, confused, but no one dares say anything.

“Keep going,” Bucky snaps. He has to have heard it.

By the third quack, the recruits are visibly struggling to keep straight faces. One of them bites their lip so hard you’re worried they might draw blood. 

Sam’s shoulders shake with silent laughter so as to not miss a sound. Clint is practically wheezing, his face turning red.

You’re no better. Tears stream down your face as the recruits try to soldier through the chaos.

Bucky finally takes notice. He steps forward to demonstrate a move, and the exaggerated QUACK that follows stops him in his tracks. 

His brow furrows as he looks down at his boots. He takes another step.

Quack. 

Another step.

Quack, quack.

The trainees lose it. Their laughter echoes through the room as they finally give in, some doubling over while others clutch their sides.

Bucky’s head snaps up. His glare silences most of them instantly. “Class dismissed,” he commands, squatting down to inspect his boots. 

Every shift of his weight causes a new quack, and the recruits are too invested or too scared to move.  

Sam is rolling around on the floor, trying to catch his breath for laughing, clutching his stomach as you watch Bucky storm out of the training room, his boots still quacking with each furious step.

“Wilson!” he roars.

The recruits are in shambles behind him, clearly grateful for the unexpected comedic relief. 

“That is a work of art,” Clint says, wiping tears from his eyes. 

The lift announces its arrival with a charmful ding, and the sound of quacking boots grows louder as Bucky approaches, his face murderous. 

He hops on his left foot to remove the right boot and the quacking increases. “Fix them! Now!” he snarls, tossing the sabotaged boots onto the floor in front of Sam. 

Sam finally finds his breath and rolls his eyes. “Alright, alright, fine.”

Bucky marches behind Sam to make sure he does as he’s supposed to, and you wait a beat before following.

They are halfway down the corridor, and a second after Clint comes to stand beside you, a motion-activated sensor lights up red, raining glitter down from the rigged sprinkler above their heads.

Both men slowly pivot to look at you. Indignation tinged with a modicum of begrudging respect is reflected in each of their astonished faces.

Clint sputters around the lip of his coffee mug. “Bold move,” he says, looking proud. He winks at you, smiling broadly.

“Sam’s winning,” he announces loudly, throwing over his shoulder as he leaves the room, “and I’m banning glitter from common areas.”

Candlelight flickers between you and Bucky, painting warm golden shadows over his handsome features. The cozy corner of his favorite Italian restaurant feels worlds away from the chaos of the compound. It’s date night. A sacred truce has been called between you so that you can enjoy the night.

“You know,” you say, twirling spaghetti around your fork. “It’s weird how quiet Sam’s been today.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, sipping his wine. “Too quiet. He’s planning something.”

“He has to be. There’s no way he’s letting us have a peaceful day without a catch,” you agree, glancing over your shoulder just in case. 

He reaches across the table, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Let him. I’m not letting him ruin this.”

You exhale and smile, letting yourself sink into the moment. Whatever Sam is plotting, he knows better than to interrupt in public.  

“Relax, sweetheart,” Bucky says, soft blue eyes reassuring you. “I’ve got your back.”

You let yourself relax, focusing on the tender way he looks at you, the kind of gaze that makes you feel like the only person in the world.

A half-hour past closing, the restaurant owner politely kicks you out. You and Bucky had been too wrapped up in each other to notice them sweeping around your table. 

Back at the Compound, the elevator ride becomes an R-rated show. Bucky’s kiss is deep and slow, his hands tracing teasing lines across your body. You push his jacket off his shoulders, and he softly chuckles as he reaches around you to pull the emergency stop lever. The elevator jerks to a halt between floors.

Releasing your mouth, he gives you a second to catch your breath before moving to kiss and nibble your neck. “As much as I’d love to keep going,” he mumbles against your skin. “We need to be on high alert for Bird Boy.” 

You groan dramatically, sagging against him.

He pulls back to look at your pout and thumbs your bottom lip to make it pop against the other. “This is your fault. I suggested we stay in the car. The backseat is plenty big enough.”

“Not for the things I wanna do to you,” you wink.

He growls and slams his palm flat against the emergency handle to get it to start again. Quickly, Bucky bends at the waist and throws you over his shoulder. You squeal as the doors open, and Bucky, on high alert, pokes his head out to check for Mr. Wilson.

“Looks clear,” he says.

“Doesn’t mean it is,” you warn, talking into the middle of his back.

“I’m taking the risk,” he announces before taking off at a sprint. He runs as if he isn’t carrying you, and you barely bounce as he moves. He stops outside your shared bedroom, cautiously testing the handle for booby-traps. 

“It’s fine,” he says, twisting the handle. “Maybe Captain Chicken Wing is having a night off.”

It’s not likely. Bucky pushes the door open. “Oh shit.”

Squirming to look around  Bucky’s bicep, you gasp at the carnage in the room, but as he sets you on your feet, you find it’s worse than you thought. Balloons of every color fill the area, floor to ceiling. There’s barely enough space for you both to step inside, but through the small gaps between balloons, you see the yellow Post-It notes covering every available surface—the walls, furniture, and even the ceiling fan that spins lazily.

“Sam,” Bucky groans, already exhausted.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I knew it.”

Bucky’s phone rings, and he fishes it out of his pocket, flashing the screen to show you Sam’s requesting a video call.

“Good evening, lovebirds,” he announces as soon as the call connects. “I will now claim my rightful title as the King of Pranks. Welcome to the show. A golden ticket is hidden inside one of these balloons. “A get out of clean up duty pass”. The first one to find it gets to sit back and relax while the other cleans up this mess.” He looks off to the left of the screen as if pondering something important. “Or is it written on a Post-It? Damn it, I can’t remember.” He grins. “Oh, and be careful, some balloons are filled with glitter. Happy hunting!” He ends the call. 

“I hate him.” Bucky sighs.

You look at the sea of balloons and then at Bucky. “We could just not play.”

Bucky shakes his head, shrugging out of his jacket. “You really think Sam doesn’t have a bigger, more elaborate plan if we choose not to play along?”

“Fine,” you huff as he sets his jacket outside to save it from glitter damage. “Let’s do this.”

Bucky grabs a purple balloon and uses his vibranium hand to pop it. A poof of glitter explodes over his chest and legs. “Off to a great start.”

Using the pen knife concealed in your boot, you pop a bright pink balloon, and matching colored glitter rains over your hands and legs. 

“You look good in glitter,” Bucky teases, smirking. 

“So do you, Sergeant Quack,” you jest, earning a playful glare.

The two of you dive into balloon popping. Each one releases an explosion of colorful glitter, coating the room and you both in sparkling mayhem.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you accuse, catching Bucky’s amused smirk.

“Maybe a little,” he shrugs, popping two balloons together.

“I need a break,” you announce. “My ears hurt, and I swear I’ve swallowed a gallon of glitter.” 

Bucky chuckles but nods, “I’ll grab us some bottles of water.” 

“Not so fast,” Clint steps into the doorway, blocking Bucky’s path. You have no idea where he came from. “No glitter in common areas.”

“Can you at least get us a drink?”

Clint nods and disappears as silently as he appeared. 

Approximately forty explosions later, the bed is finally visible in the middle of the room. Bucky pops a black balloon and freezes. “I found it,” he says, waving a piece of golden paper.

You groan, sinking onto the bed, which is also covered in glitter and Post-It notes. “Great.”

Instead of gloating or walking away, he tosses the paper aside and sits beside you. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, suspicious. 

He brushes a stray glittery strand of hair from your face. “I’m not leaving you to clean this up alone.” 

“But you won.”

“I won twice,” he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. “You’re worth more than some stupid prank.”

Your heart melts, and despite the mess around you and that he looks like he’s wearing glitter lipstick, you can’t help but smile.

“Alright, fine,” you say, nudging him in the ribs. “But you’re on vacuum duty.”

“Deal.”

The two of you get to work, laughing and teasing each other as you kill balloons and peel off Post-Its. It takes hours. By the end, you’re both exhausted and shimmering. But you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“This stuff is going to follow us for years,” you say, shaking your hands to scatter more glitter on the floor.

Bucky holds your hands still. “Hold that thought.”

You stare at him suspiciously. “What’re you planning, Barnes?”

“I think I have an idea for some payback.”

“Me too,” you say, tapping your overflowing pocket.

Bucky’s grin is scarily mischievous as he taps his own pockets. He takes your hand and leads you into the hallway—glitter trails behind you like breadcrumbs. 

“Bucky,” you whisper, clutching his arm as he glances around a corner. “If Clint catches us, he’ll kill us.”

“He’s lurking somewhere,” Bucky murmurs, putting your backs to the wall. “Guy’s like damn a ninja.”

He peeks around the next bend, scanning for signs of Clint.

“Looks clear,” he says. 

“Which usually means he’s there,” you fear, but follow Bucky’s light steps. You've almost made it through the common area unblocked when...

“Stop right there,” Clint’s voice rings out, making you both freeze mid-step like kids caught sneaking out after curfew.

You whip around to find Clint leaning casually against the doorway, sipping from a tumbler of amber liquid. His sharp eyes immediately lock onto the trail of glitter leading directly to you and Bucky.

“What did I say about glitter?”

Bucky steps in front of you, raising his hands innocently. “We’re just going to bed.” 

“Your room’s that way,” he points in the opposite direction you are going in. “So, are you going to bed via Sam’s room with pockets full of glitter?” 

“What? Us? Never!” You say, barely holding back a giggle.

Bucky nods, playing it cool. “We’re completely innocent. Look at these faces.” he gestures to the both of you, but Clint’s unimpressed expression doesn’t budge. 

Before Clint can say more, you step forward, biting back laughter. “Alright. Fine. We were just thinking about it. But we can call it off if you want.”

Clint narrows his eyes, takes a sip of his drink, then jerks his thumb toward the trail. “Whatever you do, you’re cleaning it up, and no more glitter in common areas. I mean it.”

“Yes, sir,” Bucky says with mock seriousness.

As soon as Clint’s back is turned, Bucky grabs your hand and runs towards Sam’s room, stifling laughter. 

You both creep closer to Sam’s room, giggles bubbling up as you pass another corner. Bucky holds a finger to his lips, suppressing a laugh. “Shh, he’s gonna hear us.” 

“You shush,” you whisper back, trying harder not to laugh. 

Finally, you reach Sam’s door, and as always, it's ajar. Sam is sprawled on his bed, blissfully unaware of the revenge coming his way. Light from the hallway cuts a line across his naked back.

Bucky looks at you, and when he winks, you both rush into the room. You go left, and Bucky goes right, dumping handfuls of glitter over Sam as he jolts awake. 

“What the hell?” Sam yells, flailing as the glitter rains down like mist. He sits up, coughs, and blinks. “You two are the worst.” 

“You started it,” you say, laughing hysterically. 

“I still see the glitter trail,” Clint’s voice bellows a second before he appears in the doorway. “But we have a clear winner.” He steps into the room and hands a small golden trophy to Sam. “For the sheer chaos and brilliance of your pranks, I pronounce you, Sam Wilson, King of Pranks. 2025 is yours.”

Bucky laughs, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder and showering more glitter. “Enjoy it, Chicken Little. You earned it.”

“I never want to see glitter again,” Clint says, shaking his head. 

On cue, Bucky pulls his hand out of his pocket and throws one last handful high above Sam’s head. 

You grab Bucky’s hand, still laughing as you retreat from Sam’s wrath. His complaints echo down the hallway, but you and Bucky can’t stop smiling.

Covered in glitter, still riding the high of your antics, you realize this absurd, sparkly madness is one of the best times you’ve had in a long time.

Tags: @alexxavicry / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 /

@imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library /

@nancymcl / @stoneyggirl2 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox /

@dempy / @kmc1989 / @figurantedefilme / @kmc1989

Tag Info

[panlight]

But Panlight! Alice wasn't there for Christmas! C'mon! She planned ahead! The minute she foresaw she'd have to leave she put things in motion for these presents to be there!

[high-voltage-rat]

Another round of my late submissions to RvB OC week!

Day 2: Red Team/Blue Team

After their daring escape from the Mother of Invention, former Agents Alberta and Nova Scotia- now just Ali and Kris again- found themselves stuffed in amongst the rank and file of simulation troopers in training. They ended up repainting their armour, hacking into the personnel database, and installing themselves in under the false identities of Amanda Jamitinya and Alotta Fujyna... names that, when questioned, they simply said were ones they wrote as jokes on their enlistment paperwork and now couldn't change.

Stranded in a remote outpost with no way to escape that wouldn't also raise suspicion about their survival, and believing they would be targets of the O.N.I. should they attempt to return to society, Ali and Kris instead elected to take the path of least resistance and act like truly incompetent sim troopers. Just the absolute worst to ever do it. This incredible incompetency attracted the interest of Agent Florida, who added them to the teams being posted in Blood Gulch. In the interest of bolstering the stalemate and lack of open combat between teams, they were placed on opposite sides- Kris on blue, Ali on red. However, their armour had been repainted purple, spawning infinite debates about whether or not the colour belonged to blue team or red team.

(Picrew link: x) (Note that Kris' armour main colour is meant to be black, which is not an available customization colour in Halo 3 and beyond. Bungie had to nerf her and Tex because they were too powerful.)

It didn't take them long to figure out what the true purpose of Blood Gulch was. Given his name, they were acutely aware who- or what- Church was. Given that they didn't know Florida, and he only ever referred to himself as Captain Flowers, they didn't know for certain he was a Freelancer, but very much suspected he was the one reporting back to Command. They remained on edge in the canyon until he died, after which they relaxed significantly and began to regain some semblance of enjoyment in life.

Kris planted a garden outside blue base, growing fruits and vegetables that she guarded fiercely. Ali made a game of stealing from it, using that as the cover story for why they spent an inordinate amount of time over at blue base. The pair likewise regularly stole snacks from Grif's stash, something Simmons noticed but turned a blind eye to only because Ali told him they were doing it to "improve their in with the enemy for better spying capability". They played pranks on each others' teams, met up in the caves to hang out, and just chilled. For a time, they had peace again.

When the events of the Blood Gulch Chronicles occurred, and Agent Texas arrived at the canyon, they returned to stress mode. That is, of course, until Tex informed them both that she knew who they were and didn't care. Given that Tex had a biosynthetic body the two has contributed to the design of, they were both acutely aware that she was an AI- so long as they kept their mouths shut, she would too. Wyoming, on the other hand, luckily didn't know them.

They pretty much allowed things to progress as normal in the BGC, with the pair assisting in fighting O'Malley- who they modified their armour and neural interfaces to keep from possessing them- in order to keep their teams safe. Ali helped Sarge build Tex and Church's new bodies, though he failed to inform her about the additions he'd installed while she was otherwise occupied until it was far too late. Kris joins Tucker and the crew on the great journey, mostly out of distrust for Crunchbite, and is pretty much just waiting for a reason to kill the alien the entire journey. When all hell breaks loose in Season 5, Ali helps Doc deliver Tucker's baby, the cousins manage the tech side of the plans to entrap O'Malley, and when the army of Wyomings attack, they finally cut loose and actually use their combat skills for the first time in years.

None of these efforts change the inevitable, of course- and when everyone is transferred out of Blood Gulch, Kris and Ali ignore their orders to move to Rat's Nest, instead pretending their orders were to move to Outpost 48-A alongside Church. Because this outpost has no red base, and their days of even pretending to care about the red vs. blue conflict are over, Ali simply moves into the same base as the blues. This is where they're found at the beginning of Reconstruction by Caboose and Wash- who the group is not particularly pleased to see. The events of that encounter can be read at the following link:

[unfit-and-drunk]

While everyone is busy enjoying Oblivion remaster, I've been playing Morrowind again-this time with OpenMW 'Expanded Vanilla' mod list. This is my Breton Telvanni Nerevarine Barry and her companion Felthorn(mod).

modded gears featured:

Archmagister Robe- Telvanni Magister Robes by RuffinVangarr

Mirror Shield- Secrets of the Crystal City by MelchiorDahrk

Necromancer's Amulet (appearance change)- Artifacts Reinstated by CiceroTR

Felthorn ( Blademeister by superduple)

love that I can recruit him on early stage of the game (balance & nerfing mods make beginning stage game quite difficult, so having a reliable companion helped a lot). The quest line encourages you to explore various dungeons across the land more.

While drawing this, I was staggered by how detailed his final form model is. Full of intricate patterns and layers. I know nothing about making mods but it made me wonder about the amounts of effort that went into creating these.

Dunno why, but I keep refer to Felthorn as 'him' or 'it'. Strange considering it spent most of playtime in a humanoid female form (winged twilight, golden saint, final form). As he's a spirit weapon, I'm sure he won't mind.

Barry without helm. Ambitious power hungry murder hobo. Other than having anti-slavery stance (she thinks slavery is inefficient in long term. condones slavery in house telvanni tho.) and being an archmage of Vvardenfell (reputation is nice), I think she's quite a Telvanni through and through.

It's my first time playing as Telvanni in Morrowind (Casimar didn't joined great houses, Opens-every-chest was Redoran) and I'm absolutely enjoying it. Tamriel Rebuilt with Uvirith's Legacy and Rise of House Telvanni turned Morrowind into Telvanni simulator.

OpenMW is amazing. Automatic installing the mod list is really convenient (honestly tho, I couldn't understand how to manually install and customize mods in openMW ). If anyone wants to play Morrowind in 2025, OpenMW is the real answer. 10/10 recommend.

[the-ghost-rat]

God had to nerf me cause he knew if pinkie cooper dolls werent so expensive second hand & i knew how to customize insent eyes & their ears i would have made a dog day pinkie cooper OOAK

PLEASE tell me someone else sees the vision-

[rarespawnwrites]

WIP Wednesday

A loud clatter and an ominous change in the room’s orientation brought Danny’s attention back to his surroundings. His body had been harshly throwing itself against its bindings, and the gurney had knocked into a mobile medical cart placed too close to it. Something had fallen on him—a tray, spilling medical tools as it fell—and the way his body had thrown its weight, the bed he was strapped to was now tilting in the opposite direction from where the tray had come from.

Danny had better not be about to die ag—WHOA!

One hand had twisted in its restraint to catch a scalpel as everything fell. After his rough landing, Danny found himself hanging sideways from his restraints. He stared at the scattered tools and fallen tray in front of him while the hand with the scalpel worked to cut through the wrist cuff.

Was… was that intentional? Was this body really just working off instincts? What the hell were these instincts?!

Of course it chose to be hypercompetent now instead of earlier, in the middle of traffic, in the scenario that would have prevented any of this. Well… at least his body was taking care of the restraints; Danny just had to figure out things on his end.

After scanning his system for options, he saw that he’d missed system messages. One was from a sender he’d never seen before. These names were all overlapping, though. Nothing about this afterlife game could be convenient. “System Support,” huh? Right.

So, there was a “Transmigrator Support System”, which he accessed with his screen. That seemed automated by comparison to the email-looking message he’d gotten from Peerless Cucumber. This “System Support” was probably… like customer service? Support for users having issues with the system itself. That was promising.

Danny read the message. His account was no longer under review, so he could actually buy things from the system store now! He really needed to find something that could remove the debuff.

【System Message】 Your preferences have context-sensitive advertisements set to “off”. You can change this setting in the options menu.

And now the system was giving him attitude. Great. Well, it was also hinting that it had a solution, which would be actually great. Since his body was doggedly sawing through his restraints, he should probably find something sooner rather than later.

Actually… why had no one come to check on him? That had made an incredible amount of noise. Why was everything so quiet? Someone had strapped him down and just… left him here? With a bunch of tools?

Danny was pretty sure you didn’t need restraints on people you thought were dead. If most dead people were in his place, the restraints would do nothing because their corpse wouldn’t try to escape. In Danny’s case, the restraints would have done nothing because he was dead. Well. If this irritating system weren’t so fixated on nerfing him, anyway.

Danny’s body thumped to the floor as his mind browsed through pages of items in the system store. His body finished freeing itself and stood. It shivered in his hospital scrubs, and his eyes fixed on the sheet covering the table on the other side of the room. He found himself ambling toward it, and refocused his attention on the world around him.

‘No,’ he thought at his body. ‘Bad! Do NOT take the sheet off a corpse! I don’t care how cold we are!’

The good news was that Danny did not have to wear a sheet plucked off a corpse in the morgue.

The bad news was that it was because whatever was under the sheet started moving before he could get all the way across the room.

But hey, there was more good news! Danny couldn’t control his body, so he didn’t let loose with a high-pitched squeal of terror when presented with this horror movie development! You really had to appreciate the little things when the big things were all terrible.

For instance: his human body was always cold from the way his unreleased ice powers cooled his core temperature, and it wasn’t helped by the cool air of the morgue. That was a terrible, big part of his reality. The small bright spot? Apparently, the chill that ran down his spine at the unexpected movement was even worse than the overall cold, because instead of continuing toward the sheet to warm him up, his body instantly changed course to sprint for the exit.

He couldn’t see whatever was going on behind him, but from the scrabbling noises and soft thumps, he didn’t think that whoever that was had been restrained. Because of course they hadn’t. Why would you put restraints on a corpse?

Danny wished he could punch just like, one thing. For, uh… survival purposes.

[thesims3help]

Sims 3 - Gameplay enhancing mods: CAS, Build/Buy, World, Objects + Chores & Services.

A category-based mod post. Mods and links previously featured in our Masterlist. All credits to their rightful owners.

Categories include: CAS, BB mode, (Edit) World, game objects related mods, along with chore fixes and new services.

CAS:

Truely Unique Sims

o violet on Tumblr - Pure CAS lighting mod

The Sims 3 [cas background, cas lighting mod, & cas organizers] | Patreon

CAS Sim Bin Genetics as Presets

CAS Lighting Edit

ColorLash: Eyelashes Match Eyebrow Color + Mascara

XCAS core mod: more tattoo locations, edit naked outfit, slider hack, body hair, more

Build/Buy:

One More Slot Please! (with vertical shifting)

[TS3] Catalog Search Mod | Patreon

Add Any Lot Size

No More Free Roofs by Gurra (simlogical.com)

TS3 HD Textures Series - Terrain Pack [UPDATE: Fixed road tiling]

Builder Stuff

Reworked & Improved EA Lights

Lazy Duchess — [TS3] Auto Lights Overhaul (tumblr.com)

More Light Coming Through Windows

Microwave Slots

Railings on Spiral Staircases!

Stuff on the Back of the Toilet

More 1-tile Dressers!

Decorate 6 Base Game Dressers - with more slots

"Stuff on the Fridge" Mod

What's On Your Stereo?

Showbiz, Profession & Other Trophies for Displays & Pedestals

Floor Plants Placeable On Slots [BG & SEAS]

More Slots for EA Furniture - End Tables, Coffee Tables, Windows, Bookshelves & More

Midnight Hollow Toys and All Teddies on Surfaces

Horse Trophies for Display Cases

Shelves + Extras Shift & Hide With Walls Down

So Many Shiftables! And a little more.

Shiftable Curtains

'Cortinas Festivas!' and 'Traditional Curtains' Blind Fix UPDATED!

Shiftable Televisions

Shiftable Skill and Partnership Certificates

Shiftable drafting table sketches

Fountain and Hot Tub Fixes by sydserious (simlogical.com)

Base Game Half Walls FIXED!!!!

Dangerous Stoves Mod - More Fire!

Objects:

Collection Icons and Files

Functional Washboard - Sims 4 Conversion

Harvestable Tree Default Replacement

More Harvestables

Buyable Mermadic Kelp

Same Energy Gain For Every Bed

Super Hampers -- Automatic Laundry Pick Up (Plus Bigger Hampers) by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

Spring Harvest And CookBook

Harvestable Flowers

Better Hoverboards

Canning Station Overhaul

The Transmogrifier (aka Object Script Changer)

New and Improved 9/11/21] Functioning Well - and Off-Grid Plumbing!

No Crappy Bunk Beds!

Default Umbrellas & Parasols

Default Taxis

Digital Photo Frame Overlay Replacement

Unlocked Permanent Tents for Residential and Community Lots

Wildflower Sell Price Nerf

Buyable Beach Towels (with custom script)

Vending Machine Tweaks

Salvaged Junkyard Objects Made Usable

Make those elevators go faster! Or slower...

Toilet Tweaks

Fairy House motive tuning: Bladder and Hygiene

Buyable Culinary Career Rewards: MinusOne Kelvin Fridge by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

[WA] Buyable Permanent Sultan's Tabernacle (Scripted object) by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

[SEAS] Gift Pile Tweaks by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

[SEAS] Buyable Bunch o' Gifts (Gift Pile) by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

Motorcycle Parking Spaces

World:

Reduce/Remove Lag caused by Houseboats

SetHour Cheat

Lot Population Mod

TS3 Apartment mod - Updated for patch 1.55 - 1.63/1.67

nraas - Apartment Mod

Invisible Sim Fixer Mod by Consort (simlogical.com)

RPG Manager - Edit your Bin sims, towns and Active household!

NPCRomance

Space Rock Spawner Edit

Lunar Lakes missing EP rabbit holes by Darkitow (simlogical.com)

Auto-place official festival lots in later Store worlds

AMB Community Lots Auto Placement Fix + Add Other Lots (Compatible with Patch 1.63-1.67)

Chores + Services:

Gardener Service 2

Housekeeper Service - v1.2

Housecleaning For All Sims

Dirty Laundry Mod (Update 8/8/23) - Maid & Butler Tweaks

Butler & Maid will Feed Pets & Clean All Pets.

DouglasVeiga's Dancer Service

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 12

Jaskier puased, swallowed, then darted across the door way. He yelped and gibbered as Nerf darts started flying.

Geralt laughed as Jaskier danced around in the door way briefly, trying to dodge the barrage of Nerf darts he was shooting at him. The bard yapped as a few of the darts found their mark.

The guns were custom made. Geralt had f***ed with the mechanisms and now getting shot with one would definitely leave a bruise. And it didn't help that they were both bucka** naked.

They were playing Naked Nerf Gun War because Regular Nerf Gun War was boring, and Yennefer was out with the girls, so why not have a little Swinging D*ck Time ?

Jaskier retaliated. He stuck the Nerf gun out the doorway and blindly fired.

Geralt groaned loudly as one of Jaskier's haphazard shots nailed him in the ribs, adding another bruise to his collection. He ducked down behind the safety of the recliner and heard Jaskier bolt for the stairs. Geralt rolled out from behind his hiding spot...

Jaskier reached the stairs and laid down some last minute cover fire. One of his darts hit Geralt right in the dangly bits. Jaskier froze at the top of the stairs when he heard the strangled noise Geralt made.

"Geralt?" He saw him hunched over, holding his groin. Ooooh...f**k!

"Er, Geralt, are you, uh, alright?" Geralt straightened up, and Jaskier caught a glimpse of the murderous look in his eyes.

Jaskier ran for his life.

"I said no d*ck shots!" Geralt snarled, starting after him.

"I didn't aim for it, I swear-!" Jaskier screamed as Geralt didn't even bother to use the stairs. The Witcher just leaped and hauled himself over the railing.

Jaskier turned and sprayed more cover fire, hoping to slow Geralt down. He heard him grunt as some of the darts hit.

Geralt chased him down the hallway, getting him in the back twice, and almost turned an ankle as Jaskier suddenly changed direction and darted around him.

A Nerf dart hit him in the nads.

Everything stopped. Jaskier and Geralt stared at each other in mute disbelief.

"You little f**ker!"

"I DiDn'T mEAn tOo!" Jaskier screamed as he made a run for it while Geralt was still doubled over. He ran, blindly firing behind himself. There was another pained growl in a very familiar octave.

"Godsd*mmit!"

"Am sOrRy!"

"You're doing it on purpose!"

"AM nOt, I sWeAr!"

Jaskier whipped around the corner and slipped on a t-shirt on the floor. He went down with a surprised shout, landing with a series of thumps.

Geralt came skidding around the corner seconds later and saw Jaskier getting to his hands and knees. He was literally a** up, and Gerlat could not stop himself. He raised his Nerf gun and, with a maniacal crow of triumph, fired.

He got Jaskier right in his a**.

Jaskier was just getting up, knowing Geralt was only seconds behind him, when he heard the pop of the Nerf gun, and felt a very uncomfortable, very abrupt sensation in his nether region.

He's going from horizontal to vertical in a split second, screaming in shock and gripping his a** with both hands.

Geralt is just about laughing himself sick at the way Jaskier has snapped bolt upright to his knees, while holding his backside. But then he sees the look on Jaskier's face. It 's a mix of pain and shock, with a dash of slowly increasing fear.

Geralt *confused*: What?

Jaskier *eyes huge*: My a**...

Geralt: Yeah, I shot you in the a** because you shot me in the d*ck twice, and once in the balls. What about it?"

Jaskier *anxious pained whisper*: The Nerf dart...i-it's in my a**!"

Geralt: F**k...

Yennefer was having coffee with Madeleine and Vespula, enjoying a No Boys Allowed Day, when her phone rang. She heaved an irritated sigh when she saw Jaskier's Caller ID image.

She said a brief prayer to any god that was listening and feeling inclined to be merciful to her today, then answered the phone.

"Y-yEn..?"

A Voice Crack. F**k

"What is it?" Yennefer asked, cautiously. Jaskier's voice sounded very small and anxious. And there was a hint of pain.

"Yen, I...can you -- I know you're out with the girls-- but...can you...cOmE HoMe?"

"What happened, love? Are you alright? Where's Geralt?" Yennefer exchanged worried glances with Madeleine and Vespula. Something was wrong.

Madeleine and Vespula could hear Jaskier hesitantly begin to explain over the phone. They saw Yennefer's expressions go through several emotions. Worry gave way to annoyance, then disbelief, then came mild disgust, which finally turned to amusement.

Yennefer's mouth twisted with the effort of trying not to smile as she asked in disbelief, "You had a what?"

Madeleine and Vespula crowded around Yennefer to better hear the drama.

Yennefer gasped, then slapped a hand over her mouth to cut off the begining of a cackle that was trying to slip out. Her voice shook with the effort of holding in the cackle as she asked, "It wEnT WhErE?!"

A brief pause while Jaskier repeated what he'd said.

Yennefer was fighting for her life when she responded. Jaskier could hear her trying not to burst into outright laughter.

"I'm sorry, my love, but you're on your own for this one."

"But can't you just come and, and...magic it out?"

"I'm going to have to pass..."

"Yennefer, please?"

"Sorry, Jaskier-!"

"But...it's...it's uncomfortable. No-! I know I told you all those stories and about that one time! That was different! How?! What do you mean 'how'? Well for one, it wasn't violently and suddenly shot up my a**!"

"That's what you get for playing with toys that don't have a flared base, Jask!" Vespula interjected.

"Ves!"

"I'm sure it's not the weirdest thing you've put up there," Madeleine added.

Jaskier: *offended bard noises*

"You'll be fine, Starling, " Yennefer assured him, "It's just a foam dart. From a toy gun. Just give it a yank and it'll come right out--!"

"I, um, can't get it..."

"Why not?"

"Geralt, er, Geralt modified the Nerf guns. They shoot really hard now, and it's uh, way up there... and it uh, kind of...hurts..."

Jaskier heard Yennefer gasp.

"Are you f***ing serious, Geralt?! For f**k's sake--! Since you put it up there, you're going to f***ing get it out! Do you hear me?"

"Hmmmmm."

"Don't argue with me! Three times? Well that's what you get for playing games naked! Don't you blame him! You're the one who shot a f****ing Nerf dart up HIS a**!"

"Hm..."

"Don't roll your eyes at me either--! Yes you did, I could HEAR you! You better fix my bard before I get home or you're going to find some of your horse figurines mysteriously gone!"

"Hm!"

Jaskier sighed as Yennefer ended the call. So much for doing things the easy way. He turned to Geralt, a resigned look on his face.

Geralt sighed. "I'll go get a glove."

[divineerdrick]

Warhammer 40,000 Balance Changes for June 4, 2025

Alright!

It's that time again! That wonderful time of the year when GW decides to shake everything up with major changes to 40K! We've got new missions! We've got new cards! New rules! New points! New detachments! And all during one of the heaviest codex roll outs we've ever seen! We've got all four deity legions now! Emperor's Children, World Eaters, Death Guard, and Thousand Sons are now all present and accounted for with their books! We've got new Space Wolves with a beautiful range refresh! Chaos Knights are currently up for preorder, as of time of writing! And it looks like their loyalist cousins and the Knights of Titan aren't far behind! And all while GW unleashes a new version of the Age of Darkness with a reimagining and new lore for one of the first interpretations of Terminator armor. There's also all new rules for AoS4 with a new Generals Handbook and Spearhead set hitting the stores soon . . . and they're gonna dropping preorders for that new Kill Team box this weekend, and I seriously would buy four of those if I could . . .

Guys things are kinda crazy! I know this is apparently cease and desist season too, but GW has also just paid out some well deserved bonuses to their employees. GW continues to be my primary example of a company that is almost perfectly balanced in the level of corporate bullshit while maintaining excellent service to their customers and fans. As always, stay vigilant my fellow Warhammer fans, hold them to account, vote with your wallet, and don't let them cross that moral event horizon.

State of the Game

40K continues to have the tightest balance we've ever seen, though Death Guard has recently made some pretty substantial waves. Still they're actually not the top of the meta! That honor goes to Imperial Knights! The buffs they got in the last MFM combined with much of the meta shifting to elite models has allowed them to do some serious stat checking! EC, Ynnari, the new Daemon Index, and our revived Deathwatch are also doing very well! Though it should be pointed out in the last case that the Order Xenos continues to be represented by only a handful of skilled players.

At the bottom, Guard has struggled with nerfs to their best detachment and AdMech has basically needed love the entire edition. T'au got hit with some indirect nerfs and is struggling to deal with the firepower armies are currently bringing. Blood Angels, Dark Angels, and Black Templars can't keep up with Codex Marines anymore, the Templars especially struggling after crippling nerfs to their best units and enhancements. And finally Imperial Agents continues to not be a real army. And if they don't get anything in this Dataslate, that's a pretty good sign that GW has no intentions of them ever being one. I'll have more to say as I get to each faction's individual section.

So I went through things starting with the Mission Deck and Tournament Companion first, then the Dataslate, individual Codex Erratas, new units, the MFM, then finally the new Detachments. I'm going to mostly break things up by their "Super Faction" again. But a handful of factions will be getting blog posts to themselves.

But to start, let's go to the cards!

[potat0bag]

hello famous tumblr person potat0bag

so i saw that one tweet u made about nerf blasters and it was probably a joke but if it wasnt

• whats ur fav ammo type? personally im a rival round type of gal

• springers or flywheelers?

• if springers: pump action or top primed?

• if flywheelers: rev trigger or rev switch?

• whats ur fav nerf line of blasters? my fav is zombiestrike !!!

• fav blaster (in general)

• fav blaster (for hvz)

• fav blaster (for regular matches)

• have u ever modded/painted/built/generally customized a blaster? if so, SHOW IT !!!! please

ok thats all bye

oh it wasn't a joke i'm deranged and miss all my blasters since my guardians sold them - favourite ammo type is definitely the rival balls;,;, never got to own any rival blasters myself but my god they look like so much less of a hassle to reload/load mags;,; - flywheelers are so fucking neat and i loved revving up my regulator and hearing the HORROR in my younger cousins' screams... that being said... ough springers are so satisfying to use;,;, and i'm always much more fascinated by how springers get extra ammo capacity into their frame than flywheelers cause with flywheelers! ...bigger mag, that's that. for flywheelers, i've always found the rev trigger so much cooler and just more convenient than the switch. as for springers, i prefer bottom primes a lot more. it feels like it fucks with the consistency of my aim less.. that being if the blaster has a stock/attachment point for one. we don't talk about the roughcut (ey love the roughcut, it's ribs favourite blaster) - my favourite line is zombie strike without a doubt... so many cool blasters that were absolutely revolutionary for the hobby. you owe zombiestrike your hammershots, nerds... - favourite blaster... roughcut... 8 darts... shotgun... slamfire... smart ar... feels nice in the hand... the smooth prime... the KA CHUNK before you shoot... being able to choose to shoot only one dart... it's just so neat. - never played hvz! on the bucket list though if i ever rebuild my nerf collection;;,; - never played any competitive nerf actually;,; again i would love to be able to. the closest i got was playing with my friends when i was younger. - never customised a blaster but. taps side of head. i could make a rival kronos splat3 hero shot replica. i could do it. thank you so much for all those questions you let me go cuckoo crazy autism ^^ nerf is such a niche interest for me ahsgdvah

[sirwow]

Having some WC gameplay shower thoughts today about how i would actually make 5 captains work so time for a bit of a ramble.

though before i do ramble i wanted to do some clarification of the different parts of WC. The tag #pikmin wratihs call refers to the entirety of it- the story. When it comes to the theoretical gameplay tho theres 2 (or kinda 3?) different parts. First part is just Olimar and Louie being rescue corps members and generally being pretty similar to Pik 4 gameplay outside no oatchi. Second part follows Olimar, Louie, Alph, Brittany, and Charlie all returning to 404 as corps members with their own ship and the gameplay is pretty original outside the general skeleton of Pikmin gameplay. in between those is a koppai focused story but that would only work if it was a pikmin graphic novel game as there literally is only actual pikmin for about 1 page lmao.

Now then on to how Iv been thinking about making 5 captains work in the 2nd half of WC:

Essentially at the start of every day it starts off in the main ship and you choose how many captains you’re bringing out into the field. More captains the merrier obviously but when you bring one out there’s a major caveat. Each of the 5 captains don’t just do nothing while left behind, they have their own upgrades they develop over the day that they’re left on the ship! Some projects might take them multiple days but regardless they’re always working towards something in their own given fields.

Said fields for each goes as following:

Louie: Food! Louie for once actually gets to subject the others to his meals he makes and each one will give a different benefit for the day, starting simple with simply moving faster or having more health, up to his more ambitious meals that can have more extreme changes to the day with their own extreme draw backs (such as a food that makes a day 50% longer but every enemy in the area respawns) He has to perfect and collect the ingredients for said meals though so he needs the off time to do so

Alph: Suit/Gear upgrades. No raw materials required but time and patience is. The suits are only just now custom made since the urgency of this mission was so high and so he’s up to the task of gradually upgrading them on the mission.

Brittany: Onion and even Pikmin improvements. Her botany might as well be used to help the little plants that help them and so she’ll work towards safe ways to biologically improve the state of your onion and the pikmin that come out of it (Such as making it passively grow pikmin or even at a higher level, flower a few of the pikmin inside at the start of a new day)

Charlie: Physical training of the captains, basically like puppy point training but it’s timed instead. Running, swimming, jumping and hell even pulling things. Dw he’ll make the captains who were out for the day pull an all nighter to learn them /j

Olimar iv yet to come up with a good one yet.,. I thought maybe the ship but it would be stupid to force people to wait to go to a new area, especially thinking about my speedrunning chums. Treasure is still all you need for power.

This whole system is basically to encourage people to play with all the characters and really plan out the day ahead. Also a way of making each play through a bit different then the last as you could prioritize upgrading one thing over another.

Now then lastly I just have a few gameplay changes; Spicy spray will still effect all pikmin in play but will not flower them. Instead nectar puddles can be picked up if you so wish and eventually used in one large burst to flower all pikmin out on the field. Ice pikmin are nerfed- they can only freeze an enemy if eaten and otherwise will just slow down an enemy while attacking and have the same pitiful damage as winged pikmin. Purples are technically not nerfed but due to the new mechanic of carrying pikmin around in the pack to go up ledges and stay together easier, they have one downside of being stupid heavy on the captains. 100 carry weight pack can only carry 10 purples due to their weight. Whites now get a buff that will passively poison enemies over time depending on how much were on them and how long.

That’s all my thoughts atm, always open to questions about mechanics or anything else really. Currently still can’t draw bc of my hand tho so no doodle for ur time <\3