#i absolutely forgot about this and was so burnt out of drawing

[miutonium]

Select your malewife

____________

Henlo I'm available for commission ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[opennwindows]

If you can, could I request BEN Drowned fluff / smut headcanons like about himself, with his headcanon age, hobbies, facts, what he is into or would like & want in a relationship, and what he would be like with a gamer girlfriend/ s/o?

If ya taking requests rn still?✨😇😊💖

Ben Drowned general + NSFW hcs

A/N: yes!! absolutely. i love getting to talk about how the pastas do their pastaing in my mind. i have so many headcanons for everyone that im excited to share!! also sorry i forgot to include the gamer gf part but i don't think it would change a lot of what i wrote!!

btw sorry for fucking dying i have been busy 😭😭 but no one worry i will still continue to work on requests!! if anyone has any marble hornets stuff they wanna request i will zoom you to the front of the queue so fucking quick. anyways enough of me yapping.

cw: 18+ nsfw, toxic relationships, crying kink,

GENERAL

ben is mentally and physically 22, but he can be quite emotionally immature at times. when he died he never stopped growing and maturing, his soul was just stuck in limbo. think like the worst waiting room ever.

he's surprisingly tall, standing at about 5'9. he's lanky but not bone thin. could easily get pretty far in a fight without his ghost powers.

the link costume only appears when he’s in his ghost form. so for example, when he’s messing with someone on their computer he’ll appear as the canon BEN we’re most familiar with. when he’s just chilling in his physical body, he mostly wears beat up hoodies and sweatpants.

contrary to popular belief, ben's not the hardcore gamer everyone thinks he is. sure, he'll play some overwatch or whatever when he's bored but he honestly just prefers to watch tv and browse the internet. understandably REFUSES to play any zelda games. if you were trapped in a video game for decades would you ever wanna touch it again? exactly.

ben loves to draw little comics and troll (see: horrifically traumatize) people online. god forbid you get into twitter beef with this man because he will crawl through your monitor at 3am and leave you with a crippling fear of technology. dude thinks it's absolutely hilarious. a true knee slapper.

lowkey has a sugar addiction. will slam down 4 cans of pepsi in one sitting. he's very lucky that he's basically a ghost because the kidney stones would be plentiful.

ROMANTIC

you know that guy with the blown out speakers in his car, lives off of energy drinks and burnt blue razz ice elfbars, swears aphex twin is the modern mozart and works on the grill at your local wendy’s? yeah thats ben. or at least would be him if he was still human.

“why would you need a chair, my lap is literally right here babe.”

would absolutely wear your skin if given the opportunity. not in a weird way. he’s just EXTREMELY touchy.

he needs someone who is significantly more organized and motivated than him. he can go almost a week without showering and it should honestly be considered biological warfare when he tries to smother you with affection during these episodes.

after awhile of you guys dating he LOVES the idea of y’all showering together. he has a fear of water and while showers aren’t too much of a trigger, your presence helps ease his anxiety.

favorite pet names: bro, dude, dawg, babe, bitch (non derogatory)

not really a romantic but he tries his best. a perfect date for him is just getting some takeout, watching youtube, talking about stupid shit and play fighting. if you want something more traditional or extravagant then he’ll oblige to make you happy but those types of dates make him feel quite suffocated and nervous. try to save those for special occasions.

now let’s talk about his problems because just like the other creeps he is ANGSTY.

he’s probably the most emotionally stable and healthiest of the group but he definitely still has his toxic traits, after all this man is a ghost that mentally tortures and kills his victims through manipulation.

ben would never ever get physical with his partner no matter how enraged he is but he absolutely is the type to do some mental damage when he gets carried away. ben drowned? more like ben gaslighted.

the type to say some shit that would keep you up for years and then kiss you the next morning like the argument never happened. he finds it easier to ignore problems than to actively talk and fix them. you’re gonna have to teach him some important communication skills or else you’ll grow to resent him after all the bottled up rage.

a bit too brutally honest and blunt for his own good so if you have thin skin the relationship would fall apart pretty quickly. he wants someone who can drag him twice as hard as he dragged you. bonus points if your insults are consistently funny as hell.

please watch anime with him and discuss it. he would propose on the spot, especially if you play with his hair.

pro player tip: if you want him to clean his disgusting room, help him and make it fun! he just needs a little push and motivation at times. and being around you makes him want to get his shit together.

big fan of late night make-out sessions. i’m talking like 45 minutes straight of just slobbering on each other’s faces with tongues down throats. if you don’t want his hands running over every inch of your body then you’ll probably have to chain him to the wall.

NSFW

okay. so he’s a little inexperienced with his hands. he’s just a slow learner. be vocal with him about what you like!!

ben's about 7inches and slightly skinnier than average but he will have you seeing stars in record time. the dick game is no joke. he tends to go fast and deep most times.

i can see him being a switch in the idgaf-as-long-as-i’m-fucking way. dude will go with the flow and will try mostly anything.

definitely one of the least aggressive pastas during sex. he has sadistic tendencies but he’s more of a edge/overstimulate you until you cry versus a beat the shit out of you and rip hair out of your scalp type. he’s pretty vanilla given his occupation.

despite his love of roasting the fuck out of you on a daily basis, the only words that come out of this man’s mouth is heavenly praise. he looks at you like you’re the most gorgeous being on the planet and he’ll let you know it.

he loves to whisper praises into your ear while you ride him.

he's more of a receiver than a giver when it comes to oral. he'll absolutely spend hours between your legs if given the chance but nothing beats the sight of you on your knees and teary eyed with his length in your mouth.

he can be a bit of a head pusher but just let him face-fuck you every now and then, hearing his loud moans will be worth it.

did i mention how much of a crying kink this man has? you guys could be on round three and if he stares at your teary eyed fucked-out face for longer than 10 seconds he'll immediately get hard again. you'll have to beg him to give your poor body a break.

he's also into choking but only if he's the one doing it. if you try to restrict his breathing he'll panic and the mood would get ruined.

[greekceltic]

FAQ Page

I'm not quite done with this, but it'll be nice for later.

Is it okay if I take inspiration from your art and concepts? I've been in a situation in recent years where another artist has taken far, far too much. You've probably seen me talk about it. It's a subject I'm pretty burnt out on. I recently saw another artist's take on this and it seemed sensible to me. I'm just going to quote theirs. I have tried to find my own words, but right now I find myself more comfortable using someone else's. "Well, if you’re having to ask me for permission, either your design is too similar or you’re being overly nervous about a normal artistic process. You’re absolutely free to use my work as a source of inspiration but I’d strongly encourage you to think about the details from my design you like most, and remix them with other concepts into your own unique take."

Taking inspiration is something everyone does, but please don't become a shadow I get bi-weekly alerts about. Ideally your pool of inspiration will be many artists and concepts re-imagined into something unique to you- and that you're being honest with yourself about the result.

Your art is being copied! / Will you tell me who the copy cat is? I know your intentions are in the right place, and I appreciate that, but I get a lot of messages about this and am tired. I'm sure if my art ends up somewhere it shouldn't be or there's a significant event, the community will get it to me through people I know, but let me rest. I'm just sayin' get a second or third opinion before coming to my inbox.

I sent you a message and you didn't respond. Sorry about that. I tend not to stress about messages because it can be a drain. You're more likely to get a response if you let me know from the get go what you want, but nothing is guaranteed. Sometimes I didn't see it, sometimes I got busy or forgot, sometimes I plan to do it later, sometimes I just opted out. It's not personal.

Are you okay with fanart? What about OC interactions? Can I post it? Sure, just don't profit off of it and please credit me. If you want to draw my OCs interacting with yours that's also fine- though I prefer situations where their actions make sense. Alf wouldn't make your character cry for fun, for example. He's grumpy but not cruel. Posting it is fine. Where do you Rp? Are you looking for more partners? Discord mostly. Roleplay consumes a lot of time so these days I mostly only play with my buddy Thema. I probably wouldn't have time to play, but I like to hang around people that do and I don't mind being asked. Just please don't be sad if I never get around to responding! I'm most compatible with people who are comfortable with radio silence.

Can I use your characters in roleplay/as roleplay refs? Considering I actively roleplay my OCs and there's a potential for confusion, I'd rather you didn't. Though I think there's a difference between linking to my art and saying 'this is my character', and linking to it to say 'this has the mood I'm going for, but here's what's different about my character--'. The latter is fine.

Can I make Fan OCs for your setting? Thinking about this makes me tired. Maybe I'll get to a point where I'm more comfortable later, but for now I'd rather you didn't make something directly from my worlds. But lets be real, you don't need my permission to draw cat monsters and I take a huge amount of inspiration from ancient history. Many of my concepts are inspired by things that you can read about and be inspired too. If you see something and are curious if there's a historical source, just ask. Hopefully I'll remember.

Can I repost your work? I don't mind as long as I'm credited. Most of my art has a signature on it already. If it doesn't, please add a link or my name so people can find me. I'm less okay with my work being used as a pageviews grab on a site where I have an active social media presence, but it's probably not worth my time to care.

Do I have permission to draw NSFW art of your characters? No, for a plethora of reasons, some easy to explain and some not, but I probably can't stop you. Just don't profit off of it or show it to me.

Do you have a website for your OCs? I have RP pages for them scattered all over the place and many of them are outdated, but as I type this I recently put some up on Toyhouse. https://toyhou.se/GreekCeltic

Do you have a website for your comic? Sure do. It's an expensive fuck. https://catswaycomic.com/ When does your comic update? Sporadically. I work on it when I have time. My income is solely freelance commissions and Patreon- mostly commissions.

There's other places you could post your comic! Yeah, I know. I may do that someday, but for now I like having my own house, even if it's an expensive fuck. (Not really, the renewal just hits around tax time, Lol).

[actualbird]

yknow, i really love the SR cards where the main plot is basically just NXX Boy Goes And Does A Thing, And He SUCKS AT IT!!!

vyn has SR Mercury In Retrograde where he does a fantastic job being absolute ass at household plumbing. marius has SR Overtone where he gets an A++++++ for being the last guy you wanna lend your guitar to, because hes really bad at playing the dang guitar. and at first i didn't know what artem's card was that followed this pattern but sam @samsspambox blessedly informed me that it's SR Thin Veil, the paywalled SR i dont have yet. and in that card story artem fucking SUCKS at PUPPETS

(sidenote: i generally weep at paywalled top-up cards but the concept of basically having to pay for artem's cringe is So Very funny to me)

but now here is where the injustice becomes apparent.....vyn, marius, and artem each have an SR Epic Fail: The Card Story

BUT WHERE IS LUKE'S?????????

to avoid any misunderstandings, here are the traits of what, to me, makes up an "SR Epic Fail":

one Main Thing is the thing our beloved nxx boy will suck at and what and it's also generally Main Focus of the whole card story (which then later leads to a sweeter core message about vulnerability and love and being okay with not being perfect etc)

our boy has to suck In The Moment. not in a flashback, not in a referenced past anecdote, no no. i want to have to tap through the entire excruciating scene/s of him failing at whatever hes doing

the story format has to be in a contained card story and not a recurring-but-brief theme in a personal story

with this criteria in place, it is IMMEDIATELY apparent that luke is the only one without an SR Epic Fail. the closest story instances would be the following:

SSR Through The Heavens (the skateboard card) since he fails at being a normal not-hypervigilant human being and also the NSB makes fun of him with memes, but this doesnt count because it wasn't the Main Focus of the story, there was a whole lot of other stuff going on and the Main Focus was the skateboarding which he did awesome at

some past anecdotes and flashbacks in SR How I Remember You (the luke blindfold card) about how luke sucks at drawing and sucks at charades, but this doesnt count because the drawing was just referenced in a few sentences and the charades fail was a brief flashback. it's also not the Main Focus of the story as well

his general inability/difficulty with cooking that is a recurring theme across his personal stories doesnt count because it's not a card, and thus isnt eligible

this is terrible. this is horrid. i love luke and i want a card thats all about him messing up at a minor activity. i want a full SR Luke Fucks Up At Cooking where the focus is what it says on the tin

i can even see the story so clearly in my mind's eye. it'd be so easy. maybe luke tries to make gingerbread man cookies but accidentally ends up with a gingerbread massacre.

luke mentions hes gonna bake and mc is excited about it because it seems he put a lot of thought and research and prep into it, maybe it actually starts with a scene of them shopping for ingredients together, and theyre both looking forward to luke's baking! but when it actually happens hes like "oh sorry a case came up, dont come over to my place anymore!!" which is sus

mc comes over anyway the next day to pick up some stuff she forgot and luke is there acting awfully nervous and his whole BUILDING smells of burnt gingerbread but there are no gingerbread treats to be found. luke keeps evading until mc finds The Massacre in a plastic container box haphazardly shoved into one of the kitchen cupboards

and it's an absolute baked-goods crime scene in there. none of the gingerbread men look like they were ever even men or homonids of any kind to begin with, it instead looks like all the dough just came together in the oven to create an amorphous Blob with the odd "limb" sticking out here and there. what luke has created is a gingerbread abomination.

mc stares at the gingebread abyss, and it stares back.

upon further investigation, mc even finds slight burn marks around the oven's door too and luke has his face in his hands, his shame is IMMENSE, just about as immense as the aroma of gingerbread treats everywhere. he was hiding it because he was worried that he got her so hyped up for the whole thing that it'd be SUCH a disappointment to her that he fucked it up!

and mc is like "hey no it's okay, as long as it tastes good, it doesnt matter how bad it looks!" and then she breaks off a piece from the gingerbread monstrosity and eats faster than luke can warn her "NO NO DONT DO IT---"

it tastes like shit

anyway they go out to get desserts from cafe instead and mc reassures luke that she obviously still loves him even if he created a baked treats atrocity and broke the genevabread convention. she tells him that if hes having trouble or if he fails, his instinct shouldnt be to hide it all and avoid her but to let her know and so she can help out, because she wants to be there for the wins and for the losses, for the good days and the bad. luke then goes all blushy grateful happy and they kiss and love is real.

the end. the post-story text conversation can go something along the lines of

luke: okay so i figured out why my gingerbread men went nuclear

mc: oh? why?

luke: i....misread "tsp" as "tbsp".........every time

mc: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAA

luke:

[kozachenko]

I've crawled out of my cave after playing Final Fantasy IX for a long ass time what have I missed?

Artist's Notes:

I'M BACK BABY! A while back I made a post with a new style experimentation thingy but I ended up deleting it because it was just kind of a boring face thing, I was planning on doing more art but then I started playing Final Fantasy IX and uhhhh yeah so that game has kind of taken of my brain for the past two weeks and I am 20 hours into the game because I love it so much. I wanted to draw Vivi because Vivi is just really fun to draw ok? I've kinda been feeling really burnt out with my lineless style, mainly because of how hard it was to do lighting. I'll show one of my initial art style tests on the bottom of this post. Again, used to have it be an individual post but it was just one face so it was kinda boring, so might as well include with this one on the subject of art styles. I wanted to kinda mix some aspects of my older style with the sketchy shading lines with a more painterly way of doing the lighting (mainly in the shadows). All in all, I think that's my favourite part about this drawing, it feels nice to finally be able to do some proper lighting again, and I want to experiment even more with my lighting and rendering in future pieces. Also, part of the pant shading got kinda lost in the sketchiness, so for next time I'll probably focus on the clarity of the more sketchy parts of the drawing, since I did go with my initial sketch for the final drawing. I also gave up on the background since I had no idea what to do for it, and I didn't put too much detail into the staff as I forgot which one I gave him in my current playthrough and I didn't want to risk spoiling myself via looking up references, but that's ok I like how the singular yellow circle on it matches Vivi's eyes. Also I was having a bit of trouble figuring out how to draw his body and how to pose him, but I like how the pose turned out a lot. It was inspired by his idle animation when in a battle in game where he does a little shimmy.

Ok I need to talk about Vivi's design because I love it so fucking much oh my god-

I absolutely love how his face is just in complete shadow and only his eyes stand out, it's so cool and unique and I love how they recontextualized the original black mage design from the classic Final Fantasy games. How they did it I won't say because I don't wanna spoil the game, but someone give this poor baby a therapist because he goes through a lot. Actually, same can be said for all of the FFIX cast, they all need therapy (again, I won't spoil anything, please go play the game for yourself).

While I do love almost all the characters in the game, even though Vivi is most fun to draw, my favourite character has to be Zidane (the main protagonist of the game). He's a really fun protagonist, and they could have easily written him as a misogynistic jerk who doesn't respect women but they didn't, and I really appreciate that. He's just an overall cool dude who's a really nice older brother figure to Vivi and also just has a cool character design (who I also want to draw eventually). Initially in the game I was planning on grinding levels for Vivi to make him the tactical nuke of the party, but then that title went to a different character (who was initially multiple levels behind the group since I grinded the party in the starting area way to much before they joined, but now they are two levels ahead of everyone and have pulled the team through a lot of tough battles, again I won't say who it is because it is kind of a spoiler and the way the gameplay actually ties into their character arc is just so good omfg). Once I eventually finish the game I'll probably write a full review on here, so no spoilers until then lol

Also, I've kinda been burning out a bit with making Touhou art, which also made me a bit burnt out with Touhou stuff in general (although I will continue keeping up with the manga) so getting into other things (i.e. Final Fantasy and even Fallout since I've watched the first season of the TV show which is a whole other post for another day) has helped me refresh and given me something new to think about. I've ended up in the exact place I feared ending up, where I would start drawing fanart for it not because I wanted to but because I felt like I had to, so I'm taking a bit of a break. When I do draw Touhou fanart again I'll try to draw for the sake of myself, and to all the other artists and fanartists on this platform (and on any social media for that matter), take care of yourself and don't forget to take breaks when you need to!

(Ok part of that last paragraph was definitley influenced by the good ol' "it's 9:00pm and I need sleeb, but the message at the end still holds up, always take care of yourself)

Oh yeah, and here is that one style experiment I did btw

Man I really fell down the "Yoshitaka Amano art enjoyer" to "Final Fantasy fan" pipe line didn't I?

[cetra]

OC + Random Associations

[Image ID: A banner for my original character named Killian. To the left is a circle containing a portrait of a saint. Extending from the circle towards the right is a painting of gold stardust against a black backdrop. Towards the middle of the banner is the name “Killian” written in a zany typeface. /End ID.]

thank you @perpetuagf for tagging me to do this!! I went with Killian again sorry i know I'm being really annoying about him 😭🧡 and it was so fun.... ugh... we're so back. Tagging anyone who wants to do it + some of the usual suspects who do the OC thing @dekarios @avallachs @camelliagwerm @gwynbleidd @mightymizora @mythrae @sleepsvessel @dragonssxheart @latenna @dekariosgale @euryalex @loveofdetail @nightwardenminthara @stwaidwen @glamfellens @margaritalaux-antille @killerspinal @bladeofavernus @katagawajr @katsigian Sorry if i forgot to tag you I'm so out of the loop on here and i should probably be in bed by now, okay let's go

Animal: Lamb, several birds (doves, geese, kestrels), donkeys

Colors: Gold, black, brown, yellow

Month: in a world with our calendar, probably August

Songs: The Valley by The Oh Hellos, Holy Lands by Bill Miller, White as Snow by Rivers & Robots, Chains by Radical Face, Out of Our Heads by Sheryl Crow, UGH SO MANY GOOD ONES

Number: 2/two

Plants: Lilys, daisies, palms, chrysanthemums

Smells: Burnt wood, parchment, various oils

Gemstone: hmmm I'm not sure actually. something gold

Time of day: Late afternoon going into the evening when the sun casts a golden glow over everything, aka Killian's favorite time to nap

Season: Summer despite being born in Winter

Places: His home village especially on the riverbank and his father's tavern. once he ventured around the land he loved the ocean

Food: Meat, cheese, bread, starchy vegetables, apples, dried fruits, nuts, peppers, olives..... and he has a bit of a sweet tooth

Drinks: hot chocolate, cider, wine

Element: maybe air/wind

Seasonings: Assuming this includes spices and condiments etc. i'm thinking sea salt, cumin, nutmeg, and mustard seed

Sky: the summer sky especially when it's golden hour or like around the time I said he loved to take a nap

Weather: Sunny, warm or temperate

Magical power: Glowing and levitating (Believe it or not despite being probably the most powerful person in my world, he actually uses magic very infrequently lol)

Weapons: Knives/daggers, bow & arrow

Candy: Dried fruit if it counts, candied fruit peels, caramel, honeycomb

Method of long distance travel: Horseback or boat

Artstyle: oil paintings, tapestries, illuminated manuscripts, carved wood and stone, ancient cave drawings, much of my world can be inspired by the Book of Kells if that gives you a good idea

Fear: Failure, absolutely. failure!!!

Mythological creature: maybe a seraphim?

Piece of stationary: Parchment paper

Three Emojis: ☀️🕊️🗡️

Celestial body: yes..... the sun

Thanks for reading about my boy

[nyxnygma]

Can you do a mick mars fluff where maybe his wife had surgery and she wanted to support him during his show but she ends up being in too much pain that she doesn't tell her husband until he sees her crying off stage holding her stomach.

Don’t Hide || Mick Mars

[Mick Mars x Fem!Reader]

Summary: the request ^

Warnings: talk of surgery, crying, pain, stitches, talk of Mick’s back pain, panic

Masterlist

A/N: I was falling asleep whilst writing this so I apologise if it’s absolute shit. I didn’t write about any specific surgery (except it’s around the stomach) because I don’t anything about surgery and I’m too tired to research it so I hope this is okay anyways♡♡

The doctors highly recommended to rest and do nothing for 3 days but you didn’t listen. Even though the surgery was only yesterday, you promised Mick that you were feeling fine and the doctors said one day of rest is all you needed.

This show was special because it’s the first one you could go to for a while since he went on tour for three months, leaving you missing him at home. You were so excited and you were not about to let that stupid surgery stop you from supporting your husband. You masked you’re pain from the band, even though when Tommy greeted you with a hug he unknowingly pressed into the scar making your cringe in pain.

Mick knew something was up the moment you showed up to the venue. “Are you sure your alright to stay here, Darling? I wouldn’t mind if you needed to go home,” he would ask every twenty minutes.

“Mick. I’m fine, I promise,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “now go out there and do what you do best.”

He smiled at you as he walked on stage with the rest of the band, the crowd cheering madly as they did so.

Your pain was bearable for the first half of the show, it was after the break that got you. A large wave of green excruciating pain rushed through your whole torso as you stumbled to lean on the near table. The room started to spin as the pain made you woozy. You quickly stumbled to Mick’s dressing room as subtly as you could, holding onto the walls for support. You knew you should have asked for a chair or something.

As soon as you reached the room, you fell straight onto the sofa. You reached for your purse to find some kind of pain killers. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” You muttered. You stupidly forgot the pills were in your other bag. Your eyes burnt with tears of pain and now panic, your breathing speed increased.

By the time the gig was over, you were fully curled up into the corner of the couch. Tears flooded down you cheeks and you groaned in agony. Your hand was permanently glued onto the stitches. The stabbing sensation was growing worse as the pain killers from 5 hours ago had fully worn off. You were so out of it you didn’t even notice the loud music stopping and the door swinging open.

“You weren’t at the- Jesus, darling, what happened?!” He rushed to kneel in front of you. His normal laid back face turned to worry.

“Nothing. I’m just- fuck- being silly,” you try explain.

“No. It’s your surgery isn’t it? You lied about how much rest you really needed,” the older man sighed.

“I’m sorry, Mick, I really wanted to see you tonight,” you sniffled, “but I was suppose to have atleast 3 days and I forgot my pain killers.”

Your husband stood up and and walked to his dressing table draw and produced an orange tub of pills. “I have these just in case my back felt especially bad, they should work for you,” he handed you two of the white drugs and a glass of water. He then sat down and wrapped an arm round your shoulders, “once you feel alright to walk, we’ll go.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, “I love you,”

“I love you too,” he assures, “but don’t hide from me, if you’re in pain or uncomfortable please tell me.”

“I will.” You nod. Mick then waits until your feeling a bit better before helping you to the car.

[americas1suiteheart]

Bringing chapter two of this on because I got really burnt out with writing new stories so I'm just posting ones I've already done again👍

<?>Chapter II

[Part two of the Obsessed With You Riddler x Cop! Reader Series]

[Notes; This is in Edwards POV and takes place the same as the last chapter, but obviously pov's changed y'know?]

[Warnings; None.]

< Previous Chapter Next Chapter>

<?>Edward's Pov<?>

I enter the small diner and sit in the chair I'm normally sitting in.

"Good evening Edward, just your regular today I'm assuming?"

"Yes Agnes, thank you," I say as she nods and tiredly walks to the back. I had gone to this place so often that I had just become a regular.

I begin writing and drawing sketches into my journal, thinking of new contraptions I can use and how useful they'll be. I was currently planning this for Colson.

"Your pumpkin pie, and your coffee." Agnes sets down the pie and coffee right in front of me, I thank her and quickly go back to my journal.

Agnes stops in her tracks and turns towards me.

"Um Edward, I don't mean to be a bother but what are you writing in that notebook? Every day that you come here your always writing in that dammed thing."

"Just some random stuff, helps keep me distracted that's all," I reply.

"Seems interesting, you'll have to show me sometime, I'm intrigued." Agnes turns and walks away to go and clean a table.

*Ding*

I hear the cafe door ring and a person with a GCPD coat on sits a seat away from me, they place a book on the table with a light thud.

'Surely they're not here for me' I think, eyes glued to my journal trying to shake off the anxiety.

I hear Agnes take their order and mention the free coffee that cops get, I glance at them and notice a confused look on their face

"Cops get free coffee if your wondering. Have you never gone to a Cafe and gotten a free coffee?" I say, my eyes still focused on my journal.

"Pardon?" The person says, confusion still evident in their voice.

Jeez, are they stupid?

"You are with GCPD right? I mean unless you stole that jacket from someone." I say, touching the patch on the coat that read the letters GCPD on it.

"Oh. Uh, sorry that's quite embarrassing. I guess I forgot to take it off after shift." They say shifting in their seat, their face flushed from embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it, tends to happen to someone when they're tired. Speaking of which, you look as if you haven't slept in a few days. Case got you staying up?" I say, going back to writing in my journal.

"Oh yeah definitely. That riddler guy is making me overwork myself, I haven't been getting much sleep at all."

'Shit maybe they are here for me. How would they know who I was?'

"Oh, I know how that feels. I used to work in forensics so I know just how hard some cases can be. You see things that'll keep you up for days sometimes."

It then goes quiet, maybe they weren't here for me after all.

I close my journal, finish my coffee and pumpkin pie and place the amount of money needed and a tip on the counter before leaving the small diner to head back to my apartment.

As I walk towards my apartment I can't help but think if I had seen the person that was sitting next to me during my time in forensics.

They didn't seem as stupid as a rookie so they must've had some experience other than just the police academy but he didn't pay much attention to them other than having a small conversation.

L/n he remembers the name patch on the coat.

Maybe... Just maybe, he might've known them at some point during his time at the GCPD, or maybe it went back further to back at the orphanage...

I didn't bother at all to try and possibly rewrite or fix any of the writing in it so it's just year old writing that is just absolutely horrid.

[queenofbaws]

Bed sharing 15 Hakwe and Varric GOSH GUYS WHAT CHANGED HMM I WONDER

definitely more than six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

“So?”

“Oh, it’s not so bad! I mean…as far as burnt-out husks of ancient war forts go, anyway.”

“A ringing endorsement!”

“I’m just saying we’ve slept in worse.”

Varric stepped aside with a gentlemanly wave of the hand, allowing Hawke to saunter her way into the room before him; and saunter she did, her stride the familiar rolling bounce it had been back in Hightown, Lowtown, the docks, the Gallows, everywhere in between. She stood in the middle of the room he’d claimed as his own, her arms akimbo, her stance loose beneath the gleam of her Champion’s regalia—and then he pulled the door shut behind him, and all that posturing fell away.

“Maker’s tits, I forgot how exhausting being the Champion of Kirkwall was!” she groaned, rolling her eyes up towards the ceiling even as she tore her gauntlets off and let them drop to the ground.

“I forgot how complicated that awful armor of yours is,” he snorted, latching the door and testing its hold before similarly allowing the performance to drop from his shoulders. “Why do I remember it being pointier than that?”

“Ah, that. Yes, well. Time makes fools of us all, Varric, I am no exception.” She paused in undoing a buckle to flash him a look through her eyelashes, her grin wry but warm. “As it turns out, fleeing the Chantry isn’t quite as exciting as the stories would have you believe. Sometimes, during those long, cold nights in the middle of absolutely nowhere, a girl finds she has no way to amuse herself but to file away the edges of her dress armor. Just…rasping a single rock against those hard edges over and over again, dwelling on the myriad mistakes which brought her to that singular moment.”

His eyebrow went up.

She raised both of hers in return.

“So it just always looked like that, huh?”

“Pretty much. Maybe your memory’s going in your old age. Here, will you help me with these?”

Something had happened that morning, when they’d met in Skyhold’s courtyard—out in the open, of course, in broad daylight, because that was how clandestine rendezvous actually happened. It wasn’t something either could put words to, which was something of a miracle in and of itself, considering who they were, but it had happened all the same: Things had simply picked up where they’d left off. As though time hadn’t passed, like the only thing that’d changed was where they were and what flag flew in the ramparts over their heads. Everything else had slotted back into its proper place, and they were themselves again.

Or at least that was what they’d thought.

Because then Varric took hold of one of the leather straps wrapped around Hawke’s back and something else happened. Something they could’ve put words to. Something they chose not to, all the same.  

Hawke cleared her throat slightly, hoping to draw attention away from how abruptly her laughter had stopped, making a grand show of tying her hair back out of her face as Varric went about unfastening her armor as he’d done countless times before back in Kirkwall. “I thought Cullen was going to burst into flame when I first walked out this morning. I never really understood the phrase ‘He looked like he’d seen a ghost’ until then, know what I mean?”

“Curly’s who you were looking at, huh?” he joked, willing his fingers to keep working as he undid the first of the belts securing her chestpiece and moved to the second, so much of the day already forgotten, pushed out of place by the bone-deep familiarity of the moment they found themselves in just then. “You want to talk about bursting into flame, I thought the Seeker was going to ascend to the Golden City when you looked at her.”

“That wasn’t her normal face, then?”

“Oh, sure. The Divine’s biggest, scariest guard-dog usually walks around blushing up to the roots of her hair and stammering like a Templar recruit passing by a brothel for the first time—you wouldn’t believe how much it intimidates the political prisoners.”

“I’ll bet. Could you imagine if Meredith had gone around giggling like a little girl all the time? Terrifying. Literally the stuff of nightmares.”

They snickered at that, and the snickering turned to laughter, and the laughter threatened to become guffaws, and there in the half-dark of the drafty old room, they might well have been in the Hanged Man again, congratulating themselves on another scam that broke in their favor. The déjà vu of it all was palpable, especially as Hawke pressed her hands to her chest to keep her armor from clattering to floor as Varric loosened that final belt and he turned away to start a fire in the grate to give the place some measure of warmth. They’d been there a million times before, done it all to the point where it’d become routine.

Only they hadn’t. And it wasn’t. And still neither said anything about it.

Hawke let out a groan of relief much too loud to be anything but a joke as she stripped the rest of her regalia off, shedding the Champion’s skin so she could slip back into her own. “Much better,” she sighed, stretching this way and that until her spine popped. “While we’re on the topic, I must admit, Varric…few things prepared me to walk in here and find you wearing something other than that duster of yours.”

Once the fire had caught, he glanced over his shoulder and then glanced away just as quickly, trying in vain to convince himself that it was that same familiarity, that same sense of being back in another time and place, that caused his heart to stutter in his chest at the sight of her. “We weren’t on the topic, but far be it from me to—”

“Sure we were! You said my armor was terrible, I agreed, you asked if it’d always looked like that, I made a witty joke…”

“Uh huh,” he smirked, beginning the (much less familiar) process of slipping out of his own armor as Hawke paced around, getting an eyeful of his quarters. “Yeah, well, as it turns out, her Inquisitorialness just really gets a kick out of dragging all of us out into the middle of nowhere to stare through skulls and pick up shards of who-knows-what, and a guy can only handle so many bug bites before enough is enough.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, then languidly waved towards him. “Does the, uh…lack of sleeves help? With the bug bites, I mean?”

“Ha ha.”

“No, I’m curious. Riveted, even.” She turned down a corner of the bed’s sheets and considered herself for a moment, running through silent reminders of all the bedrolls they’d shared back home, not to mention the number of times his palatial suite had acted as her palatial suite. There was no reason for this to be any different, none whatsoever, so she climbed in before her traitorous mind could speak up in a voice louder than her exhaustion. “It’s been a long while since we’ve spoken face-to-face, so I’ll grant that you may have forgotten, but I’m Fereldan, Varric, and my people sort of invented slumming through the mud, you understand. I’m just wondering whether the bugs in Orlais are different, that’s all.”

“Wait, you’re Fereldan?” he joked. “Since when? I’ve never heard you talk about that before! Are you sure you’ve mentioned it to me?”

She sank down into the pillow, hugging it close to her face, and when she felt the mattress dip beside her, she willed herself to shut her eyes. Pretending he hadn’t interrupted at all, she continued, “Are they intimidated by your muscles?”

“Hilarious.”

“Well, are they?”

Varric pulled the blankets up against Skyhold’s usual chill, yanking especially hard near Hawke’s side to jokingly cover her face. “Goodnight, Hawke,” he said flatly, though the laugh that punctuated it robbed it of any finality. “So glad to have you back.”

“Glad to be back,” she hummed into her pillow, turning the covers down just enough that they came up to her chin. “I did so miss my trusty dwarf,” she laughed, then pitched her voice down lower to add, “And his arms, my word!”

When their chuckling tapered off, there was only the sound of the fire crackling low in the grate. No raucous drunks hollered from just beyond the wall, none of their friends’ heated arguments snuck in through the cracks of the door, and all at once it became perfectly obvious that for all the things that’d stayed the same during their time apart, something bigger had changed. This wasn’t Kirkwall, and it wasn’t the Hanged Man, and this wasn’t how it had felt to fall asleep beside one another after a day of doing someone else’s dirtywork.

It wasn’t even close.

“I did miss you,” Hawke said after a beat, when it became obvious neither of them was about to fall asleep. “Jokes aside.”

“Yeah, I…I missed you too, Hawke.” Again the feeling of first seeing her in the courtyard rose up fresh in his chest, the relief so thick, so palpable, that even with the warmth of her beside him, it was a little difficult to accept she was actually there. That she wasn’t just a memory, a handful of coded words scrawled on an old piece of parchment carried across Thedas and back. He hadn’t been able to react the way he’d wanted to then, not with all of the Inquisition milling about, and he wondered why now, away from all those prying eyes, he still felt that same need to hold back.

Probably, he thought, because of that unspoken thing lingering between them; because he had the strangest suspicion that if he reached out and touched her at all, for even a moment longer than it had taken him to undo her armor, he wouldn’t be able to let go, that once he had her in his arms there’d be no going back. And wasn’t that a frightening thing to be thinking about your friend?

Hawke’s arms only tightened around the pillow, proof positive the fear wasn’t his alone. “I mean…I really missed you, Varric,” she admitted, her voice muffled by down but plenty loud enough to hear in Skyhold’s silence. “I guess I didn’t realize how much time we spent together until…well, we weren’t.”

“Preaching to the choir.” It was all he could think to say. It didn’t feel like enough. Probably because it wasn’t. “But here we are again, huh? Different boss, same bullshit, slightly better booze…”

“Anything is better than what Corff served.”

“…and unfortunately for a certain magister who shan’t be named, we’re back together.”

“Close enough to pick the same pocket.”

“Damn right. Nothing to do now but make up for lost time.”

There was a beat where it hung between them thicker than ever, the thing they’d been avoiding…and then Hawke, the one who always made a point to jump when an abyss presented itself if only to see whether this would finally be the time she figured out how to fly, let go of her pillow and slid her arm across Varric’s chest instead, shifting to nestle her chin against his shoulder and remove what remained of the space where that silent, changed thing had been hiding.

Varric turned to her, and she met his eyes, and then their foreheads were touching, and there was a hand in her hair, and neither could say who had started it, but their lips came together and Skyhold melted away for a moment.

“It’s a lot of time to make up for,” Hawke said when they pulled apart, her lips curved in a wicked smirk as they brushed his, her voice equal parts whisper and taunt.

“Eh,” Varric chuckled, his thumb tracing slow circles along the back of her neck as he brought her close again, “We’re pretty good team, you and me. I think we’ll figure it out.”

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 15✨

Day 7, 11 and 13 were all about the Great Rainbow Bake Off, and this part continues the series! Today features Bandit's, uh, preparations. (Rating G, fluff?, ~1k words)

.

During the span of no more than five minutes, Blitz witnesses the following sights:

Kapkan walking by while drawing invisible lines in the air, visibly distressed and with his tongue between his teeth in concentration.

Dokkaebi, looking ready to strangle Lesion, yelling at him loud enough it reverberates off the walls: “Sugar is sugar! There is no wrong kind!”

Sledge sitting in a corner with his head in his hands, muttering feverishly: “What do people like? What do they like??”

“I wonder if Manu regrets suggesting the contest already”, Blitz turns to his best friend who doesn’t seem at all concerned with the competition, instead opting to doze in the lounge as usual.

“Don’t think so”, Bandit replies with a yawn, keeping his eyes closed. “Have you noticed how many more people are able to try her cookies these days? It’s raining compliments for her, instead of these gluttons devouring everything she produces in seconds.”

Blitz frowns. “You realise you’re usually one of those gluttons?”

“Eh. I’m on my redemption arc right now.”

Cryptic answer, but alright. Something else occurs to him: “Aren’t you supposed to be preparing as well? I mean, I’m glad you’re not possessed like the others, but -”

In the distance, Dokkaebi screams: “It’s the same fucking thing!”

Yeah. Blitz doesn’t even want to imagine his teammate going to similar lengths to win – Bandit’s competitive streak is a mean thing once it gets out, surfacing not just in an obsessive way but also bringing out the absolute worst in him regarding cheating. He knows he doesn’t need it and even then he tries to find loopholes everywhere, unfairly disadvantages his rivals, attempts to mess with them where he can. Blitz much prefers him napping on the sofa to burning bridges.

“There’s still time”, is Bandit’s laconic reply.

“Isn’t it in two days?” Silence. Blitz’ frown deepens. “Have you ever baked anything in your life?”

“Of course. I’ve been baked many times.”

Blitz resists rolling his eyes, but only barely. “Dom.”

“I mean, I’ve baked pizzas, croissants, pies…”

“Dom. Anything not frozen.”

“I once put a tangerine in the oven because my girlfriend at the time said it’d make my flat smell less of man-who-lives-alone. Well, I forgot about it and let me tell you, burnt citrus is a lingering odour not easily removed.”

Yikes. He crinkles his nose in sympathetic disgust. “So… I’ll take that as a no. Are you going to wing it? Half-ass it? Manu doesn’t deserve a lukewarm attempt and you know that. Part of this exercise is about you lot understanding and appreciating how difficult it is to produce tasty biscuits all the time.”

“Oh, I understand. That’s why I’m not dumb enough to try.”

“You’re dumb enough to try anything”, someone else butts in out of the blue, flashing Blitz his wide, trademark grin. Ace has materialised out of nowhere, seemingly shrouded in Christmas cheer and glitter with how festive his clothes are, his sweater a hideous mix of tartan, polka dots and paisley. No, wait, this is actual glitter raining off him. Blitz vaguely recalls a brief panic spreading through Rainbow when Kali was overheard mentioning a bomb, but this explains it perfectly.

“Not dumb enough to try you”, Bandit shoots back and Blitz feels nausea rise in him at the way his best friend looks at Nighthaven’s golden boy. To everyone else, it might come across as contempt, but after about a decade, Blitz knows what utter devotion looks like on Bandit’s face. And, unfortunately, this is it. “What happened, did you put a unicorn through the shredder for one of your videos?”

“No, I decided to cosplay Tinkerbell today, seeing as some of you could do with a little more magic and joy in your life.”

“And just like Tinkerbell, you also wither and die whenever nobody pays attention to you.”

“I thought about cosplaying you, but I couldn’t fit seven dicks in my mouth.”

Bandit actually laughs at that. He must’ve lost his mind, Blitz really has no idea what he sees in the Norwegian influencer though it’s so painfully obvious he’s smitten with him. Odd that he wouldn’t do his best to impress him and prepare properly for the Bake Off.

“Your lunch is in the fridge”, Bandit informs the other man who visibly lights up at his words.

“You’re a godsend. By the way, I’m going to give you shit for years if you don’t show some effort for the Bake Off, remember that.”

And as Ace glitters away, Blitz can’t help but shout after him: “You realise he actually likes you, right?”

The only answer he gets is a disbelieving scoff and a dismissive as if. Curses. Blitz’ hope was that they finally start dating just so he doesn’t have to bear witness to their increasingly awkward courtship. Which seems to involve a whole lot of insults.

He turns to Bandit. “You buy him lunch now?”

“We buy each other lunch. My turn today.”

“I don’t know why he thinks even for a second that you don’t have the worst crush on him I’ve ever seen.”

Bandit shows his own grin now, decidedly more toothy and scarier than Ace’s. “And I don’t know why you think even for a second that I don’t have the perfect plan.”

Well. Blitz hopes that plan involves getting glitter out of all the clothes he owns.

.

It turns out Bandit’s plan involves turning up at his door that evening, carrying a bunch of ingredients, a variety of baking utensils, a laptop and a small dictionary for translating between Norwegian and English.

“Hi”, he greets Blitz with a smile. “My oven broke. Can I use your kitchen while I zoom Ace’s mum?”

And though Blitz didn’t know what he expected, it certainly wasn’t this.

[trlvsn]

I FORGOT TO CHECK have you finished your take on kristoph's psychelocks?? ABSOLUTELY TAKE UR TIME I'm just excited to see what u have in mind

- Writer anon

logically, by now, i should have and could have already, but the semester burnt me out so much my brain feels wrong and exams are still happening, so there's that. still, i did kinda hit a breakthrough! the last post i made about the locks was me breaking three of them (1st, 4th and 5th) but then i realized something new and very important about the fifth one and that kinda tied the theory together as well. point is: i know the big picture and i understand kristoph's motives and character like ... almost fully overall, but i have details to work out and things to check. also nights to sleep through and braincells to restore. anatomy assignments broke me, i can barely draw and post now istg

[rastea]

if it's alright to ask, what are your current thoughts on Homestuck? was it spoiled for you somehow? do you still love and interact with the fandom? do you hold it as a fond memory?

Oh boy so... it's a story.

I actually stumbled upon Problem Sleuth when it was reaching its finale. Stuck around and saw Hussies failed flash version of the first couple posts before we got the one everyone knows.

I was never spoiled because well, I was there when it happened. Watched as it went from Hussie using the first comment as the next step to realizing if it was going to go anywhere he was gonna have to curate the prompts and eventually everything got moved to the forums and Hussie got more liberal with the action prompts. It was for the best really youve probably all seen how slow the first act is. Thats why.

Got real confused when suddenly the troll popularity exploded and no one wanted to read the first act and jumped straight to the trolls. Pretty sure that didn't help any story comprehension later.

As it stands now I saw the ending cinematic and was satisfied. I refused to read the epilogue fics and forgot there was extended universe at all in comic and game(eventually) form.

As a whole it was an interesting experience living through. It was different, interesting, and got me back into drawing after being burnt out for two years. I also ended up not liking the fandom. Sometimes it felt like everyone just went insane after the trolls showed up, but that's unfortunately what happens when fandoms get large and fans don't... think (Hetalia, anyone?) And I never liked this weird attitude that you HAD to LOVE it. It was really bizarre. There were plenty of reasons not to like it or any of the formats it presented. And that's not even getting into later scandals.

All in all I suppose it remains a fond memory. There are parts that are awful, but I experienced a lot of horrible things with other fandoms and still hold my time engaging with them fondly. I remember the excitement of refreshing the page and seeing a new post! A new log! And I remember the absolute chaos of Cascade DESTROYING Newgrounds!! Those were fun times. And despite everything that's what sticks with me.

Just don't ask me about the stuff after the final cinematic I have no idea what's happening in game land, lmao. My interest in it has passed. And any comments on the creator and certain things have been discussed by people more eloquent than me.

[p3rry-pi3]

Today I am drawing as always but it’s still a WIP so no picture rn, BUT ANYWHO

I feel like I’m gonna stir some crap one way or another from just like… giving random opinions of Bugsnax characters, and I will be the cause of it, so here’s more opinions/character analysis/character description or whatever else you’d like to call this lol.

Triffany. I have been WANTING to at least talk about her, but nothing could give me more insight internet and wiki wise. But as for the game, the more I replay the more I figure out of triffy.

I absolutely love her. Her and wambus is one of my comfort ships/characters, and I just LOVE their bond/dynamic.

Desc:

Triffany Lottablog is a adventurous archeologists who loves finding mysteries the past has left behind, from fossils, to murals, to burnt old OLD furniture. She is very sweet and funny. I find her archeologic dad jokes a little clever and funny. She seems to want to follow her grandmother’s foot steps as she to, desired about the past.

Alright now. My opinion on Triffany and understanding.

Triffy is the best character in bugsnax imo, she is just the sweetest, and her dialogue is always a joy to hear. Her letters sound more like her than snorpy’s sounding the most like him. [Most likely cause script writers were the ones to write some of them. Nonetheless I was shocked all letters kept their personalities some how. It was just enchanting and refreshing since I’m a nitpicker on detail.] I love her bond with wambus. Their like an old married couple coming back from whatever club they participate in. I feel like if the game didn’t really have much change in curse words triffy’s comebacks on a few responses we say to her.

When it comes to video games I think we can confidently determine detail and dialogue is keen to me. Another nice thing I enjoy when it comes to video games is design. Triffy’s design is very simple, yet, it makes triffy, triffy. From memory I can already remember her hat. I don’t do well drawing other characters and I often get scared I’d mess up the design. Triffy is the only one I’m ok doing.

When it comes to triffy’s habits it’s a no-brainer that triffy has a fear of being forgotten, she tries almost ALWAYS avoid arguments and conflict with friends scared it’ll ruin it all. She’s overly cautious for a joyous grump. And this just gives more of a reason why I should’ve kinned her sooner but when I did, I was already observing floofty, snorpy, chandlo, and filbo more than her. I got so overly obsessed of the others I was willing to hear about I forgot to hear from her. Nonetheless I love her little quirks the creators kept for her, and her bond with her grandmother just melts my heart. Triffy’s character I don’t think deserves to be shitted on tbh. She’s pretty cool.

[clownsuu]

SORRY FOR SENDING ANOTHER ASK SO SOON But I'm genuinely curious, do you have any OCs of your own that you draw, or do you just draw fandom characters and friends OCs?

A bit of a more specific question too, do you have any characters or something you unintentionally created just doodling or when burnt out? I created a character to draw when I'm frustrated with how my art is turning out, frustrated with anatomy, or have no ideas. Its something good to have 👀

(I would share him but I don't want to send you art in your asks that has nothing to do with you or your designs NDSKJAD)

I have seen your earlier ask, I might give it a good ol doodle for it- but for now this gives me an excuse to talk about some of my dumb ass characters hddhJDDH-

[cracks my knuckles and breaks all my finger bones]

(old art)

(long post)

I have a bunch of ocs that I have made in the past that aren’t fandom related- I have some I really like- but they are fandom related so I won’t show smhh- but anyway here are a few of my personal favorites-

Example one being Jack (yeah same name smhhh) he is part of a item head universe Iv created- and of course, as he looks it- is a party of a scheme-y and shady casino (no affiliations to Cuphead hfhdJDHD) He is the owner, but is stuck in a bet with a owner of a bank, and completely fucked himself over with- Jack is in denial really he does not like to be played like a deck of cards smh

(Human) Douglas- aka the “nasty big tid dude that no wonder is a character I made”- is the bank owner- really fucking scummy and cheap- rules the city despite being just a owner the bank- disgusting fucking man who smells like pennies and orphan tears-

Yeah I really enjoy those two- I also have a few more characters from this little universe I made like the mayor, Ignis, but I ain’t gunna go too far unless someone is curious lmao- but anyway, I don’t quite have characters that I accidentally unintentionally made, but I do kinda have support characters I doodle every now and then when I feel like absolute shit-

They had a name- but I completely fucking forgot JDHDGSHS- but we call them Arson Moth- They are a god of void who used to be extremely large and in charge, but somehow became small and marketable plushie sized- making them extremely irritated and upset, specially when people treat them like a soft plushie (because, yknow, they are smol and really soft-) so in revenge, the cause acts of arson and violence because fuck you hffhJDGDGD- i rarely doodle them, but they are fun to draw when really sad or frustrated cause- yknow-

Very angi small mans hdhdDH-

This, is Heart- A character of mine that I personally feel is a emotional support character I have smh- I have created him far before Sun/moon came out, but he has almost the exact same personality as sun does- (and pointy nose hffhDHDHD) They are part of a universe of personified organs that work in a “human system”, and he is the most emotional character of them all smh- the heart does what the heart does, which is be chaotic and just does anything that makes themselves and others happy- also gets into arguments with Brian (Brain)

(Fuckin nerd-) those two argue a lot- Brain wanting to have the system work in a orderly fashion, and heart wanting everyone to just be happy and motivated-

He gives me brain rot I love this dumbass so much- drawing him always makes me feel better smh- their anatomy doesn’t really matter either because they aren’t human, they are Heart-

[shurisneakers]

harmless (xiii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, smidge of angst, guns, little bit of violence, obnoxious flirting, and kidnapping lol

Word count: 6.2k

A/N: welcome to chaos week >:) this is the first of three updates coming out this week (if i can finish the last one in time).  big thank you to my love @no-shit-sherl0ck for the kidnaped!reader idea, and that one anon who suggested the inator that’s used here. i know you wanted to see it in a zoo but i couldn’t really figure out a way to use that so i referenced it a bunch in previous chapters. oh and also @ginevranights​ for this specific imagery 

Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Who the fuck kidnaps a villain in this day and age?

Saturday started normally enough.

Nat kicked Bucky’s ass in training, evening the score to 120 and 120. He blames it on the lack of sleep. She tells him that it’s his fault he stayed up late to binge watch 911 Lone Star.

He still thinks it was worth it.

The team’s sunshines and rainbows that morning. Someone had cooked up a batch of pancakes and fresh orange juice. Someone else burnt the bacon but left to feed his dog before anyone could complain.

Nat opened up the newspaper. Different sections went to different people until Bucky got stuck with the entertainment section. Fun, considering that he doesn’t even recognise half the names. He’d have to pretend to be interested until the next rotation.

He watches the orange juice levitate in front of him from the corner of his eye and just assumes that Wanda’s getting a refill even though she could have just asked him to pass it. He smells the next batch of bacon burning and figures that Clint is back.

Sam’s beside him, annoying him about how long it takes for him to read about which new celebrity relationship just ended and Bucky retaliates by reading even slower. Fuck you.

He’s on his second stack of pancakes absolutely drenched in maple syrup when the doors to the elevator open and Marie steps out, laptop in her hand.

An instant chorus of hello’s and invitations to have some charred bacon resound through the table. She politely declines them with a small smile, instead opening her laptop and placing it in front of Bucky without further ado. 

He looks at her questioningly, slowly swallowing whatever was in his mouth.

“An email for you.” She tuts her head towards it. “It has a video attachment of your friend.”

Bucky has plans to not watch the video in front of everyone, given that the content could range anywhere from you reading out fanfiction about him to a deep-fake of him singing a Whitney Houston song.

Both of which you have done before and would do again, without any hesitation.

“Aren’t you gonna watch it?” Wanda asks from across the table.

He slowly shakes his head no, cutting his stack into smaller pieces.

“If what’s in it is real, it’s important,” Marie stresses.

“What’s in it?” he inquires instead, hoping that the team would stop staring at him. If Marie was implying strongly that he needed to watch then something was wrong.

“Just watch it, man.” Sam’s statement has everyone agreeing with him. Bucky can’t refuse now, and if the team makes fun of him for the next month about how he looks good belting Greatest Love of All, he’s going to personally assassinate you.

He clicks on the email, noticing it came from a throwaway address. Probably untraceable, if the cards are played right. 

The video opens to grainy footage, which is stupid considering modern technological advancements. If this is one more of your stupid LARPing sessions, it could definitely wait till after lunch. 

But, he instantly recognises your silhouette strapped to a chair and suddenly the room feels very cold around him. His hand automatically clutches onto a bead from the bracelet you gave him that still remained tied to his left arm more often than not.

“Speak,” someone commands off camera.

“About what?” You sound annoyed, exasperated even.

“Why you’re here.”

“I’m here because you have unaddressed feelings of childhood insecurity.”

“I warned you to take this seriously.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly but his body relaxes the minute he reads the situation. 

The team’s crowded around him, he can feel it. His attention remains on the screen in front of him.

“Who even are you sending this to?” You don’t sound the least bit threatened. “My roommate’s not at home but my cat is and I don’t think she’d care.”

”You’ve made a complete joke out of villains everywhere. Fraternising with the enemies, the Avengers,” he spits the name with so much vitriol. “You’ve erased what it’s like to be truly evil. Turned us into a laughing stock.”

“If it takes one person to undermine your whole movement then maybe it wasn’t strong enough to begin with.” You look at someone outside the lens, face scrunching in distaste. “Also your costume’s ugly.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you trace this voice?” Bucky asks, receiving an immediate confirmation. “Figure out who it is.”

“On it.”

“Tell them. Tell them we are a serious threat and are to be feared.”

"No,” you say resolutely. “You’re an overgrown manchild. Go watch Teletubbies or something.”

“She does not give a shit,” Clint marvels at the situation, a piece of half eaten burnt toast between his fingers.

You didn’t. And if he knew you in the slightest, which he prided himself on at this point, you already had six different ways of getting out of there.

“She knows she’s going to be fine,” Bucky murmurs, returning back to take a bite of his pancakes. “She’s probably still there just to irritate him.”

He zeroes in on your wrist to see if the teleportation watch was still there but no, your wrists are bare. Guess you forgot.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how a real villain does it.”

“A real villain- what are you, gatekeeping the villain community?” You scoff. “You sound like a fuckin’ incel.”

“Just send them a message,” the guy bellows, hitting a table.

“She’s going to frustrate them to death.” An accurate observation, Sam.

“Okay, jeez, fine.”

Bucky just knows that you rolled your eyes at that moment.

He had faith in you, or in your abilities at the very least. While every wisecrack could possibly inch you closer towards harm, you probably wouldn’t be making them unless you felt completely secure in your situation.

“Help, I’m totally kidnapped and in danger. Save me because I can’t do it myself. This man is too powerful and strong and sooo scary.”

“Do you think she has a strategy?”

“Definitely.”

“You’re not worried, James?” Wanda asks curiously. “I thought she was your friend.”

“She is my friend.” He reaches over to take the jug of orange from across the table. “That’s why I’m not worried.”

“Are you going to fight the Avengers?” you interrupt his endless tirade. “Because that’s a stupid plan. You get how that’s a stupid plan, right?”

“Let them come. I’m prepared.”

“With what? A stick you found outside? A Nerf gun? Man, you’ve tied my hands with fuckin’ zip ties, you can’t be serious-”

“Shut up,” he roared and the stand shakes slightly from where he stamps his feet. “Our army is enough.”

“Wow,” you exhale. “I wish I had your confidence, I really do. I want to study you under a microscope.”

“I have reinforcements.” It sounds like he turns to the camera to address it directly. “This is a warning. Your friends have an hour to find you or things are gonna turn ugly. This is what real evil looks like.”

“Evil dresses in a dollar store Speedo, apparently.” The man pays you no heed, instead picking up the camera. “Hey, sarge, if you’re watching this, don’t bother. I’m fine, it’s not even the real me-”

The camera cuts to black.

“When was this video sent?” Nat looks at Marie, eyebrows drawn together.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Bucky clicks out of the email, determined to get at least half his breakfast in him before he left to see what’s up with your situation. A notification pops up immediately.

evilkneival123@gmail.com just sent you an email.

A video attachment.

“We got another one,” Bucky informs the team, drawing their attention back to the screen from the informal conversation that had erupted between them about what they could do.

This time, there’s a subject line included.

Attack on the Clone.

"Ain’t that a Star Wars movie?" he asks, craning his neck to look at Clint.

"That's Attack of the Clones," Sam corrects. "Probably autocorrect."

Bucky narrowed his eyes in suspicion at him, jaw sliding outward before falling back into place. Enough times had Sam called him Fucky in the group chat and gotten away with it for him not to be wary.

“Or a code,” Wanda suggests, too many crime thrillers read and podcasts listened in her spare time. She occasionally brought them over to Self Care Saturday, introducing him to the world of true crime as a bit of light content while they snacked on chocolate chip cookies he baked. “Like the Zodiac.”

“For what?” Bucky peers over at her.

“All I remember from that movie is them rolling around a field together,” Clint mutters. “Maybe that’s how you’re supposed to save her.”

“I’m not saving anyone. Look at her, she’s fine.” Is he the only one who saw it?

When he’s met with skeptical looks and no other useful suggestions, he presses play on the video.

This time it's clearer footage. It hardly takes him a second to ascertain where it was.

"That's her lair." It showed the pathway leading up to the flat concrete building, exactly where the intercom should be.

There was a black Sedan parked haphazardly outside, engine still on judging by the sound of the radio blasting an AC/DC song. 

Within a few seconds, someone drags you from the entrance of the lair to the car, despite your very clear protests and opposition, shoving you inside before it takes off in full speed, tires screeching. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., track the car from that video. Check all the CCTV and surveillance footage from around the area that you can find," Bucky commands, taking a sip of orange juice.  

"Why would they send us that?" Clint pipes up. "They make their email untraceable but send us a video of the fuckin' abduction itself?"

"I don't know." Bucky shakes his head, setting his glass down. "She probably convinced them to."

It was an unusual scenario, he realised that. But his eyebrows lower in contemplation, his lip caged between his lip before a thought suddenly occurs to him. A laugh in disbelief almost escapes his throat ad he pushes it down with some freshly cut strawberries. 

"And they listened?"

"I don't think you realise how annoying she can be." He knows, though. He knows. "Bet they regret it, though. I should tell them to keep her for a little longer."

"Voice recognition registers voice to someone named Chad, better known by his alias Soul Crusher. Surveillance footage places the car about thirty minutes away. Exact location sent to your phone GPS."

Soul Crusher. That was worse than Dr. Strange.

"I can make that fifteen." Bucky shrugs, setting down his fork and knife. If his hunch is right, the team didn’t really have to get involved. “See you guys later.”

“Do you want any of us coming with you?” Wanda gestures to the crowd at hand.

“I got it.” He pushes away from the table, depositing his plate in the sink, dropping an extra piece of bacon on the ground for Clint’s dog. “She’ll be alright.”

They watch him trail out of the room briskly, heading up to his room to change.

“Is it just me or is he too casual about this?” Clint continues staring long after he leaves.

“Both of them are weirdos.” Nat pulls open the newspaper again, going back to the sport’s section. “Who knows what goes in their heads.”

“Can confirm that not a lot goes on in his.”

Without Bucky to retaliate or grumble, a Steve walking into the room, sweaty and shiny after training becomes the new subject of jokes that morning.

__

For the first time in months, he’s had to bring a weapon or two along with him. Two revolvers and a couple of knives kept out of plain view. He wouldn’t need more than that anyway.

True to his word, it takes only fifteen minutes to get there, thirteen if he didn’t stop for the chain of ducks that crossed the street.

He’s also dressed in a little more leather than he usually reserves for your meetings. A jacket that brings to act as a windbreaker and tightly laced up combat boots make him look like he either stepped off a runway, or more menacing than usual depending on who was looking.

The GPS points him to an old warehouse near a more subdued part of the city. It was abandoned by the looks of it, and had been for a while judging by the lack of upkeep. Prime real estate.

He pulls off his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar along with his backpack before kicking the stand into place. The bike’s a few metres away just in case they decide to blow something up.

Bucky looks up at the warehouse, assessing the most damage he could do to it if at all it was needed. That thing could barely stand on its own, a grenade would absolutely decimate it. That wasn’t good news for you.

He sighs once before putting on his death glare, straightening out his shoulders into a stature that screams stone-cold, and pushes the door open, gun raised.

A mini-army of people ranging from their early twenties to late thirties stood guard at the entrance, all with rifles pointed at him. He counts fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“Oh, hell no,” a voice erupts from the back, followed by the sound of his gun being thrown to the ground. “No one told me that he was coming.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, his death glare not shifting and Glock not lowering.

“I’m out.” The same guy raises his hands up to show he meant no harm, slowly brushing past Bucky as he squeezed out of the building.

“You got five seconds to leave before I shut this door,” Bucky gives the rest of them an ultimatum. Not like there was a point anyway. SHIELD was sending down some people to account for the one day rise in new morons. 

They all looked at each other, swallowing thickly before raising their weapons.

“I hope he’s giving you good insurance.” The second he finishes his sentence they all cry out in what sounds like a fucking war chant, launching themselves at him. 

______

“They’re here.” Someone presses his ear to the door as if the gunshots and screaming weren’t enough. 

“Brilliant. We’re ready.” Chad picks up the knife, running his finger along the sharp end. You try to see if you can use your Twitter-ordained powers of manifestation for a paper cut.

“How much are you asking them for?” You put forth a query instead, when it disappointingly doesn’t work.

“Asking who for what?” Chad stops his dumb intimidation tactic for a second. 

“You know,” you insist like it was obvious, “my ransom. How much did you ask them to pay?”

“We didn’t-” He looks around at the other people in the room for confirmation. “-we didn’t ask for any.”

“Because I’m invaluable?” Your head droops to the side in mock flattery. “Aw, you guys.”

“We didn’t think of it,” someone from the corner behind you speaks up, coming to the aid of their boss.

“Now that’s just rude.” You tut, shifting maybe an inch or two in your bounds to try and get more comfortable. “Leaving aside your lack of preparation, let’s just assume he bursts in here, desperate and ready to bargain. How much would you ask for?”

“Three million,” Chad says confidently, gathering a nod and sounds of agreement from everyone else.

“Are you serious?” Your jaw drops, a scoff escaping you. “That’s all?”

His self-assurance falters a little bit, you can see it under his 5 Minutes Craft mask.

“Three mill-” You stop mid-sentence. “With this wiring? Ridiculous. Make it ten, I demand it.”

“We’ll ask for fifteen mil,” Chad proposes, his teammates agreeing again, a little more delighted than last time.

“Ask for thirty, you coward,” you argued. “Thirty million and a jet.”

“You’re not worth that much.” The dipshit diagonal to you pipes up with his unwanted and, frankly, useless opinion.

“And you are?” You whip around the best you can. “Henchman number four?”

“Megedagik,” he informs, standing up a little taller now that he was given some importance. “It means ‘killer of many’.”

“Did you just say your name was Mega Dick?” 

“Megedagik,” he corrects.

You stare at him hard before turning away. “Alright, other than Mega Dick here, does anyo-”

A knife lands right next to your feet, driven at least an inch into the ground. You look up at the guy you managed to piss off within four sentences, his face now a beet red. 

“These are brand new, asshole,” you barked, shaking your shoes around. “You’re gonna pay if there’s even a scratch on it.”

“Permission to kill her?” Meg growls, casting a side eye at Chad.

The boss man looks at you thoughtfully, assessing the repercussions of what might happen. You raise an eyebrow.

“Slow and painful,” he settles. 

A small smirk makes its way onto your face. 

“Title of your sex tape,” you quip as the man in the corner storms towards you.

_____

It’s all a flurry, really. A bunch of inexperienced newcomers versus one of the most skilled assassins the world had ever seen? Ten minutes tops.

Bucky doesn’t do any serious damage. A couple of broken bones but only out of necessity, a lot of concussions, and maybe a bullet wound, or three, here and there. 

Most of the time he spends thinking about things that have absolutely nothing to do with what was going on. He forgot to take his laundry out of the machine. There was a biscotti recipe he had been procrastinating on trying. His succulents needed watering but he could do that once he was back. Was he wearing his good combat pants or was it the pair that had a hole in the pocket?

His left hand thrust outwards to shove someone away while he stuck his right hand into his pocket to check if it had frayed away. The person he pushed slams into a wall with a loud groan and no, his pants didn’t have a hole in them. 

He stops to take a breather, assess what was going on. There are bodies scattered all around, mostly writhing in pain from minor injuries. Someone very bravely stands up, hands posed in front of him in a regular fighting stance.

“You sure about this?” Bucky asks, reaching for one of the concealed knives he hadn’t had a chance of using yet. It twirls rather nimbly between his fingers for something so dangerous, the hilt finally landing in his palm for a sturdy grip.

The man takes one look at the knife before sitting right back down on the ground. 

“Good choice,” his voice drops to an octave lower than his self-esteem. He’s tired of this old routine but it works like a neat little party trick, often getting him the result he wanted. “Where?”

A few fingers point down the hall to the only room whose door was closed.

He makes sure to step over everyone who was lying along the way, ears tuned in to even the smallest of noises just in case one of them decided to attack him from the back. It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t bother creeping down the hallway. With all the ruckus that just went on outside, he’s pretty sure it’s obvious that they had an intruder. 

Bucky kicks in the large steel door with ease, given that it was barely hanging on its hinges. His gun’s raised, muscles tight, and senses on high alert for any immediate threats. 

It lands with a large thud, reverberating through the room. He’s reminded of your first meeting with him.

There’s a chair in the middle of the room with a person tied to it by a mixture of rope and tape. Others found themselves slithering around on the floor in a similar fashion, trying to get out of their bondages.

“Hey, James,” you call out, drawing his attention to you. You were sitting atop a table, legs swinging back and forth without a care in the world, a blade in your hand. 

“You okay?” He tucks the gun into his waistband when he realises that none of the henchmen are going to be going anywhere soon.

“All good.” You hop off the table with a little spring in your step. “Did you bring your bike? I need a ride back to the lair. I think I left the TV on when I was, you know, getting kidnapped.”

“You coulda teleported back home before all of this even happened.” Bucky does a quick assessment of your body to make sure there weren’t any bruises or anything of the sort. “Avoided the whole thing.”

“Don’t have the watch with me.” Odd, since he knows you consider it one of your essentials but it just fuels his theory further. “Besides, if I just quit before we started, they’d keep messing with me over and over again.”

“Do you want me to punch someone’s face in?” He glances around the room at the ones wiggling about on the floor like fucking worms. “I’d be happy to.”

“Nah, I got a few in myself.” You rotate your wrist, other hand still holding onto the knife. “You know what, maybe I’ll have another go.”

He simply makes a noise in acknowledgement before he places a hand on the hem of your shirt, gently reeling you back. “I think you fixed ‘em up real good. That’s enough for today.”

“Fine but only ‘cause you said so.” You huff, looking past him and at the weirdos on the ground. “You hear that? This man just saved your life. Say ‘thank you’.”

A muffled chorus of what sounded like appreciation echoed through the room. Bucky awkwardly looks around.

“Damn right.” You walk over to the guy in charge of the whole event, bending down to his level. “If you ever try to fuck with us again...”

You stare straight into his eyes, unblinking. You hold up the knife to his Adam’s apple. Chad doesn’t dare to move other than the thick swallow.

You raise your finger and flick him in the forehead. “Get a better costume.”

The corner of Bucky’s lip quirks upward.

“Let’s go, sarge,” you announce, standing upright again and making a motion to follow you. “D’you have an extra helmet I could use?”

“Yeah.” He had brought one along in his bag, assuming that you’d need one once he noticed the watch was missing in the footage.  

“Yay.”

The only storage space on his bike was under his seat and it’s just enough for an extra revolver. Clint asked him if it was his way of flirting with someone, give ‘em a quick spin around the city and then show them his gun. If looks could kill, Clint would be 7 feet under. 

“You sure you wanna ride it, though?” He cringes immediately when he realises what it sounds like, waiting for you to smack the innuendo in his face. “We could wait for SHIELD.”

“Don’t really have another choice, Bucky,” you say absentmindedly, strolling out the room as you tossed the knife behind you.

He frowns at your indifference but turns around for a second to look at Chad. The man in question looks back viciously, his grandeur from that morning basically deflated and left to die along with his reputation.

“Might wanna reconsider the name,” Bucky remarks, doing a quick sweep of the area once more. “Soul Crusher.”

He waits until both of you are outside the cell and the door is shut on the ringleader and his circus clowns, handlebar twisted out of place so that they don’t escape for the time being.

“One second,” he calls, touch gently lingering on your forearm to stop you without even thinking twice about it. A famously uncharacteristic move for him.

"Hm?” You don’t even look like you notice his action.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks seriously, actual concern slipping through the question. “Do you need medical assistance?”

“They couldn’t hurt me anyway.” There’s something strange about the way you say it, almost assuredly. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” he concedes, his hand darting back when he realises it was still on your arm. His eyebrows furrow when he realises how instinctively he had reached out in the first place.  He didn’t touch anyone, ever.

“What are we gonna do about them?” you inquire, stepping over someone on the floor to get to the exit.

“Marie told Agent Hill. They’re sending someone over.”

“They’re sending SHIELD for these wannabes?” Someone groans in protest from somewhere and you elect to ignore them. “Ew.”

“Just to make sure confidential information isn’t compromised in any way.” There’s a large bang that comes from the room they just left. Maybe one of them shot their teammate by accident. They were more than capable of doing it.

“I would never,” you exacted a little more solemnly, pushing the door open with your elbow to let the sunlight flood in.

“I know.” He doesn’t realise how dark it was in the warehouse until he steps out into the noon sun. “I’m pretty sure this is more about the fact that you were abducted.”

“For me?” The smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way he kinda likes. Something definitely felt off. “I love being class favourite.”

He doesn’t reply, a small grunt as he twists the handle of the warehouse door upwards, effectively jamming it. 

“Can I drive?” You bat your eyelashes at him innocently, disregarding the loud screaming that came from inside as those less injured probably regrouped for a last ditch attempt. 

“No,” he doesn’t hesitate in replying, handing you a helmet and buckling his own securely.

“But I just got kidnapped,” you complained, watching him swing a leg over the bike and straddle it. Okay then. 

“All the more reason for you not to drive right now.” He mentions for you to get on, squinting at the warehouse a few feet away.

“Fine, but next time I’m driving,” you grumble, climbing on the back.

“Do you even know how to?” His head is tilted to look at you from the corner of his eye, voice heavier on account of the obstruction on his face.

The door starts shaking violently and he knows for a fact that it won’t hold up for much longer. Some of those who he had knocked out probably had been shaken awake again for manpower. 

“I can learn.” You take a pause, mischief seeping into your next words. “You can teach me.”

“No.” He didn’t exactly practice what was considered safe, law abiding driving. He just got from one point to another and that’s all he cared about.

“Then I’ll do it myself.” You sound determined. “I’m going to leave a note for us in the lair.”

“You do that.” He revs the engine when something solid hits the metal door. As guessed, their usage of props to push it down faster was coming into play. “Now, can you hold on to something? We need to go.”

If only those idiots just realised that the windows covered by newspapers were right there, ready to be broken.

“Only if you promise to let me drive next time,” you say defiantly, drawing this whole ordeal out.

“Whatever,” he urges. “I promise. Now can we go?”

“Wait for it...” There’s a devilish smile on your face. “One.”

There’s a loud creak as the door finally gives way.

“Two.” The same people you left tied up in the room burst out, almost stumbling over each other in the process.

“Three,” he completes it on his own, not waiting for you to finish because God knows how long you’d stretch it out just for the drama.

Your excited screech of laughter as he narrowly misses a rod that gets thrown at him like a fucking javelin temporarily distracts him from the brain freeze he gets when your arms wind around his waist to hold yourself in place. 

There’s angry screaming and bullets that whiz past in an attempt to get him to stop but a swift turn around a corner, pulling the both of you out of their sight is enough to get rid of them. 

“We should get a few weapons and go back,” you yell over the wind rushing by, barely audible.

“You do that in your own free time,” he shouts in response, yanking you through narrower lanes and less popular streets.

“Maybe I will, you bore.” 

Still, you shut up for the rest of the ride, only grumbling when he stops the bike to tell you that no, you cannot let go just because you want to throw your hands in the air like in the movies.

You hop off when he finally pulls up on the street outside your lair, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. He waits patiently as you unbuckle the helmet, switching off the engine. 

“You gonna drop me off at my door too, now?” You snicker, fingers pulling off the helmet.

He looks at you for a second before dropping the kickstand into place and dismounting from the motorcycle.

“I was kidding.” You laugh, handing him your headgear that he shoves into his backpack. 

“You’re pretty capable of gettin’ abducted along the way.” An absurd notion, considering it’s a short path from the road to the door. 

“Oh, how chivalrous.” You let him tag along anyway, for his peace of mind. 

“My ma didn’t expect any less.” A couple of sharp lessons from Winifred Barnes and Bucky was nothing short of a damn angel. 

You knock on the door three times, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited. 

“Aren’t you the one with the key?” Bucky questions, one hand on his waist. 

The door swung open in the middle of his sentence revealing... you.

Another you.

“Nah, she has it.” Ex-Kidnapped-You raises your head in acknowledgement at Doorway-You.

“Ah.” He fucking knew it. An unnatural sense of smugness blossoms in his chest. 

“Hey,” the both of you said at the same time.

Doorway-You looked way more relaxed, a little less grimy and dishevelled but exactly the same.

“Buck, I see you met my other half,” the you from the doorway greets him. “Or other whole, actually.”

“Sure did.” He sends a glance at Ex-Kidnapped-You.

“You can go on in. Big first day, huh?” Doorway-You refers to the you beside him.

“You wouldn’t believe,” Ex-Kidnaped-You mutters, pushing past the entrance and disappearing inside.

“She gonna be okay?” His gaze trails after your clone.

“Oh yeah, just needs to recharge.” You turn around to make sure she’s fine. “She’s made of some pretty strong carbon, technically almost indestructible.”

No wonder ‘you’ said they couldn’t hurt you.

“Heya, sarge.” You draw his attention back to you. “Always good to see you.”

“Can’t really say the same about you.” 

“Ever the emotional repressor, Mr Barnes. I like this little leather show you got going, did ya wear it just for me?”

He shifts his balance to his other foot, feet slightly wide apart. “Take it that the clone machine finally worked?”

“I was in the middle of celebrating.” You sigh, recalling the events of that morning. “Teleported home for a second to get some champagne and when I came back she was gone.”

“Irresponsible.” He tsks, head shaking in disappointment. 

“Sorry I didn’t take amateur kidnappers into account for my risk factor analysis, Bucky,” you shoot back, pressing on his name for added annoyance. “Anyway, I did the responsible thing. I sent all the evidence I had to you guys.”

“Real clever.” Bucky looks at you in dry amusement. “Attack on the clone? Really?”

“Hey, always make time for a good pun.” You finger gun, lopsided grin on your face. “Did the team like it?”

“They thought it was a typo.” Or a code. He really had Wanda to thank for his big revelation. “Your video didn’t help either.”

“Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.” You laugh, crossing your arms over your chest.

He doesn’t reply, pursing his lip inwards in sympathy, but more so to conceal a smile.

The happiness drops from your face slowly, horror taking its place. “Don’t tell me they couldn’t make out it was me.”

“Good job, your machine worked,” he adds helpfully.

“C’mon, there were so many differences,” you whine, the success of your endeavour the last thing on your mind. 

“That is your literal clone,” he points out, only to see you- clone you- walk into the giant box in the corner of the room, bright green light emanating from it like a xerox machine.

“How could they not tell the original apart from a copy?” You look genuinely offended. Insane. “Not even Sam?”

“Guess you’re not unique enough.” A rise and fall of his shoulders signify his attitude towards this whole thing. “Think I like your copy better, too, actually.”

“You’re so mean.” You puff in disbelief. “I’m a 100% original. How many mad scientist teachers do you know?”

“Two.” 

“I don’t mean now, that’s not even the-” You poke at his rock hard chest. “You are so much more annoying than when I first met you.”

He thinks it’s good relationship development.

“I have to deal with you every weekend.” He watches your finger drop from his chest. “Picked it up along the way.”

“Boo hoo, talking like you don’t have deep, deep feelings for me.” You roll your eyes. “I see right through you, Bucky Barnes.”

“Can you see the part that couldn’t give less of a shit?” He gestures to himself. “It’s all of it.”

“You think you’re such a comedian, huh?” You narrow your eyebrows. “How did you know she was a fake then, huh?”

Busted.

“Probably ‘cause you didn’t talk as much today,” he dodges. “Actually had some peace of mind for a change.”

“You knew before you got there, you liar.” You push past his fabrications. “You figured it out before everyone else.”

“You literally put it in the title.”

“Yeah, but the rest of the team saw it too.”

“Rest of the team didn’t know you were building a goddamn clone machine for months.”

“You remembered that?” You pulled away, palm over your heart. “Oh, sarge, you paid attention to me.”

His nose twitches.

“You said it, like, eight hundred times.” He could use both his hands to count the number of references you had offhandedly made in the last three weeks alone.

“Why'd you go save me when you knew it wasn't real?” you continue to challenge relentlessly, knowing fully well that he was fibbing. 

“Because you fuckin’ peer pressured me. Had the whole team around me when you sent your little video during breakfast.”

“Just admit it,” you coo, ignoring all his justifications. “You noticed it was fake me right away but showed up anyway because you’re wildly in love with me.”

“No,” he says stiffly. 

“No as in you won’t admit it you have a crush on me, or no as in you didn’t know it was fake me?”

There was no winning this. 

“Good day to you.” He pulls the motorcycle helmet on to hide the expression that plain as day screamed the former of your two options.

“Also,” you bring up indignantly, “she even got to ride the fucking bike and I’ve been asking to drive it for months now!”

“We-” he chooses his words carefully. “-compromised.”

“Oh, you did?” Your voice lowers at the newfound information, interest piqued. “I’m gonna hold you to that then, whatever it is.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Absolutely does,” you huff. “A promise is legally binding. Blue’s Clues taught me that.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

“You’re my knight in leathery armour,” you swoon, switching sides immediately, “Kinda.”

“See you next week,” he says in farewell, determined to leave before you made it worse. “Try not to get killed by then.”

“Why, so you can do it yourself? Protective much?” You pull him back when he starts walking away, laughing slightly. “Wait a second, you weirdo.”

He sighs, staying put anyway, arms crossed impatiently over his chest.

You pull out the pen tucked behind your ear and slowly tap him twice on each shoulder in a makeshift knighting ceremony. “For your sacrifice.”

He rolls his eyes at the ludicrousness, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth.

You ignore his lack of enthusiasm, pressing your fingertips to your lips in a small kiss and then to his nose, given that it was the only part of his face you had access to.

“That was for your bravery.” You grin brightly at him and he sure as hell is glad he’s wearing the stupid helmet because he can feel his cheeks light up a bright crimson.

“Thanks.” His voice sounds gruffer than a second ago. He clears his throat.

“Now you’re my knight in leathery armour,” you fawn, nearly falling over yourself dramatically. “Let’s ride into the sunset together. I love you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he calls out over his shoulder, turning away to return to his bike. “I despise you.”

“But you don’t.”

He really didn’t.

also i managed to fuck my phone up really bad so all proceeds from my ko-fi go towards getting it fixed

Next part

[retrogradedreaming]

UHHHH maybe,, you could write a little thing for reki making the sk8 fam tea? and kaoru thinking hes gonna have to pretend he likes it but then "oh wait reki can actually make tea what-"

just bc this has been living in my head for awhile sdkljfs

(capt-snoozles)

It turns out I am completely incapable of writing ANYTHING short, so have a full one shot type thing, I guess. I hope it's okay that I kinda borrowed headcanons from you and @that-was-anticlimactic for Reki with TS at a couple of small moments in the fic?

----

It used to be Kaoru alone who visited Kojiro’s restaurant when it was closed on Mondays. But since the start of winter break, Sia la Luce had become much livelier now that Reki, Langa, and Miya weren’t in school all day, and Shadow came when his days off lined up right. If Kaoru were being honest, it took some time to get used to the space no longer being only his and Kojiro’s, but he’d grown to like how their group came together like this.

The afternoons were the quietest part of these days. Kojiro took these opportunities to try out new recipes on them, leaving everyone contentedly full and pleasantly sleepy. Today, Langa had actually fallen asleep in the booth, and Reki sat beside Kaoru at the counter, playing with a tiny skateboard and making soft sounds like a small motor. Shadow and Miya sat at a table across the room, arguing over whether clown or cat makeup looked cooler while Kojiro finished cleaning. Kaoru let himself sink into the lull, Reki’s noises and that of the skateboard wheels on the counter an almost comforting presence beside him. And yet, one thing was missing, keeping him from truly relaxing.

“Seems like a good afternoon for tea,” Kojiro said, as if reading his mind as he appeared out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “You want me to make some?”

“Absolutely not,” Kaoru scoffed. “People who microwave their tea should be arrested.”

“There’s no way you can tell the difference,” Kojiro said, defensive. “Hot water is hot water.”

“Only an uncultured pig would believe that,” Kaoru snapped. He was about to stand, to tell Kojiro he’d make the tea himself like he always inevitably had to, when Reki all but leaped from his seat, skateboard abandoned for the moment.

“I’ll make it!” he offered, and the way his face lit up meant that Kaoru took too long to say not to bother. By the time he’d found his words, Reki had already bounded around the counter and into the kitchen, and Kojiro didn’t even try to stop him. Before Kaoru could tell Kojiro to stop him, Reki called out to Kojiro, asking about the industrial stove, and soon, Kojiro was not only allowing Reki to make the tea, but encouraging him.

Kaoru supposed this was a step up from Kojiro’s microwave technique, but if Kaoru were likely to trust anyone other than himself to make a decent cup of tea, it wouldn’t be Reki. The idea that he’d wanted his tea made well and was unlikely to receive it as such set him on edge. As he listened to the water boil and the conversation continued around him, he found himself wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger and tugging, letting it go, and repeating the process until his scalp hurt. He didn’t even notice that Langa had woken up until he appeared beside Kaoru and spoke.

“What’s Reki doing?” he asked.

“Making tea,” Kaoru said, doing his best not to appear so anxious about something so small.

Langa peered over the edge of the counter to where Kojiro and Reki were talking in the kitchen, and then turned back to Kaoru. “I like how he makes it. I never liked it before I met him.”

Kaoru hummed a halfhearted response. He doubted that Langa’s standards were very high, given that he’d grown up in Canada. He’d likely had tea often enough, given that his mother was Japanese, but Kaoru knew from experience that plenty of people even here in Okinawa had no idea how to brew a proper cup. It was about timing, knowing how hot to make the water, how long to steep the leaves, and so many people rushed the process—or worse, forgot about it and steeped too long—that Kaoru preferred to make his own.

He couldn’t help but envision Reki handing him a bitter cup, or one that tasted like little more than hot leaf juice. He grimaced at the idea of having to drink it and pretend he liked it, suffering all the while. He would have to wait until he was home later to make something better for himself.

He was still trying to think of a polite way to decline the tea he’d obviously wanted when Reki came out bearing a tray of steaming cups and began making the rounds through the restaurant. Reki handed the first one to Langa, who accepted it, smiling softly up at Reki. Langa sipped the tea immediately, only to flinch and draw it away after the first sip.

Not promising, Kaoru thought. If he’d boiled the water, it was ruined, even if it was something as simple as green tea. And yet, Langa only took another sip while Reki looked on approvingly.

“It’s good,” Langa finally proclaimed, and Reki glowed as if he’d received praise from the emperor himself. Reki moved on, handing Kaoru his cup.

“Thank you,” Kaoru said, accepting it with both hands. Fortunately, Reki moved on to Shadow and Miya without waiting for Kaoru to try it, which meant that he didn’t know Kaoru only held onto it without making a move to taste it. If nothing else, he could enjoy the warmth that crawled from his fingertips all the way to his elbows.

Neither Miya nor Shadow hesitated in drinking theirs, though Kaoru couldn’t imagine they cared much how it tasted, as long as it was hot. And yet, as he watched, the two of them looked just as pleased as Langa when they tried it.

“Oh wow, the slime makes good tea,” Miya pronounced, hugging the cup close to him like a space heater.

“Damn, this is pretty good,” Shadow said, drinking deeply and draining half the cup. “How’d you even learn to make it like this?”

Reki shrugged, taking up his own cup, the last on the tray. He set the tray down on the counter and took the empty seat beside Langa. “I dunno, I guess I just picked it up over the years. It’s kinda like making skateboards, y’know? You have to figure out how all the parts fit together, and if you do it wrong, the tea doesn’t taste right.”

Kaoru looked up at him from the murky depths of his tea, brows raised. When it came to making tea, the analogy was rather profound, and Kaoru couldn’t argue it. Reki was right—tea was about the sum of its parts, the pieces fitting together perfectly. And as with building skateboards, the person making it had to know exactly how to combine each piece to create the whole.

“That doesn’t make any sense, but whatever,” Shadow said, taking another sip. “All I care about is that it doesn’t suck.”

“How come you’ve never made us tea before?” Miya asked, eyes trained on the Switch he’d pulled from his pocket now that he’d abandoned his conversation with Shadow.

“I don’t really have the patience for it,” Reki said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kinda like, if I don’t wanna put in the time to do it right, why bother?”

While everyone was wrapped up in conversation, Kaoru finally chanced a discreet sip. If it was as bad as he’d expected, he could school his expression appropriately while they were all distracted. Perhaps he could even get away without having to lie about how good it was. And yet, when the tea touched his tongue, he paused.

It wasn’t too hot.

It wasn’t too weak or too strong.

It wasn’t too bitter and the leaves didn’t taste as though they’d been burnt.

It was, as far as Kaoru was concerned, some of the best tea he’d had outside his own home. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words to say so. He sipped it again, just to make sure he hadn’t deluded himself based on everyone else’s praise. Sure enough, it was almost more delicious the second time.

“You surprised?” Kojiro murmured at his ear, his own cup dangling from his fingertips. Kaoru jumped, nearly spilling his tea. When he turned to face him, Kojiro’s lips quirked in a smug grin, and he raised one brow meaningfully. Kaoru shot him a hard glower in return, a silent command to keep his mouth shut before Kaoru turned back to Reki.

“It’s delicious,” Kaoru said, and it wasn’t forced in the least. “I’m impressed.”

Reki, who had already immersed himself in talking to Langa, gaped at Kaoru, one of his hoodie strings falling from between his teeth. Then, he flashed a wide grin. “Glad you like it!”

“Have you ever practiced tea ceremony?” Kaoru asked, reluctantly setting his tea down on the counter.

“Nah, my parents let me try it once when I was younger, but I kept messing up the steps,” Reki said. “It’s not really fun when people get mad at you for doing it wrong.”

“I studied it for some time,” Kaoru said, remembering how the order felt comforting, how the amount of concentration it required gave his anxious mind something to focus on, how the simple yet refined aesthetic felt like clearing his head. In recent years, he didn’t have time for it with his calligraphy business, but a part of him missed it. “It’s quite a bit different from drinking tea like this, but if you wanted to, perhaps we could do a...modified version of it. Something less formal with everyone here.”

Reki’s eyes brightened, and he looked to Langa, who only seemed to share his enthusiasm. “It sounds fun, yeah! A lot better than getting yelled at by a bunch of old people because ‘tradition.’”

“I’d say so,” Kaoru said, and they devolved into talking about their favorite teas and the best ways to brew them. Kaoru couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to someone who actually understood that tea was an art even more than it was a drink. But Reki did, and when the rest of the group finally left, leaving Kaoru and Kojiro alone in the restaurant to clean up, Kojiro nudged him with an elbow.

“You didn’t think Reki could make tea like that, did you?” he said, the words teasing but too close to Kaoru’s own thoughts for comfort.

“Shut up or I’ll leave you here to wash dishes alone,” Kaoru quipped, even as he accepted the next cup to dry. “I will admit, I was pleasantly surprised.”

“I knew you would be,” Kojiro said as he dried his hands and stretched.

“Anything is better than microwaved tea,” Kaoru said. And although it was true, he couldn’t help but look forward to the next Monday, and the last before the kids started school again.