#i typed in ‘i’ve’ and all of these just. came up

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 7: Have a Cow

From: You Catch More Bees With Honey Series

Pairing: Mob! Bucky x Farmer! Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are finding your stride until a surprise shows up on the porch

Word count: 2,750

Content/warnings: Light mob themes, farming, kissing, lap sitting, fluffy fluff

Author’s Note: It’s been a minute! Hopefully this kickstarts me to get a couple more chapters out soon. Please enjoy, be sure to drop any feedback, I love hearing from you!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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You sighed as you walked into one of your barns tucked toward the back of the property, recently transformed into what looked almost looked like a city loft apartment to accommodate for Bucky’s workers on the farm. You were carrying produce crates and one of Bucky’s henchmen, Peter, came to take them from your hands.

Ever since Bucky’s construction crew has been working in the mines, most of the food that you would normally be selling at the farmer’s market has been going to them. That makes it easy for you, though. A few of them have even been around the fields helping out to pick it themselves, too, giving you a little more time to sort through documents, contracts, and future plans, without having to stay up late like your normally would to fit in all the work.

All the men had been a great help, and exceptionally respectful, which surprised you. Sure, you expected them to be formal and well-behaved, but their actions seemed almost rehearsed, like they had been told exactly what to do. Peter, probably the one kid who you had taken a liking to, was the only one who would really hold conversations with you, though. You assumed part of it was due to his status in Bucky’s organization. He was young, but extremely smart, earning him a spot of minor authority. Although every time he opened his mouth, you were never quite sure what would come out. It could either be something honest and profound, or a weird nervous babble. Sweet kid, though, so no harm done. He was like the best parts of Jake and Curtis at that age.

As you handed the crate over, you looked around at the high ceilings, now lined with bulb lights and the cool tones that decorated the previously wood-heavy space. “I’ve always wanted a barndiminium, just never had an excuse to make it.”

Peter added your box to the stack in what appeared to be a makeshift kitchenette. No way they had time to hook up appliances and water lines already, right? “I know our men seem pretty gruff, but if there’s one thing they like, it’s comfort and luxury where they lay their heads.”

You laughed and nodded your head. Just like their boss, although he didn’t seem to complain as much anymore, laying on sheets that were probably about as old as him.

Peter continued shifting crates around, unloading certain items likely for whatever meal they had planned next once the next round of workers got off their shift. “And of course, boss wouldn’t want anything less than the best when it comes to you. Says this’ll increase the property value. And it’s all yours to enjoy as you please when we’re gone.”

Ah, there it was. The kinda thing Bucky wouldn’t say to your face, but Peter’s lips let slip like it was nothing. Like it was obvious. You tried to change the subject, unsure if you could confront those types of feelings to Peter when you hadn’t even built up the courage to discuss them with Bucky yet. You knew Bucky cared about quality, and had a little understanding of the extent he was willing to go for you. But you didn’t even want to think about a time when Bucky could be gone.

“Don’t you need permits for this stuff?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you won’t. Plus, I’m sure the higher ups worked their smooth talking magic and their connections. They’re amazing with things like that.”

You hummed in agreement. You had seen and heard first-hand how effortlessly Bucky could have something done for him. The world was at his fingertips. Surely that rule stood true for most people around him.

“Don’t I know, Peter. But I’m sure you’ve got your own charms. Some of your own connections that Buck doesn’t.”

He gave you a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess, sort of. But I’m not sure how much they’d really put me in charge of that stuff. Sometimes I just freeze up when I have to tell them things instead of them telling me what to do…I just get so flustered around Mr. Barnes.”

You nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I’d say they trust you a lot for you to be in control of as much as you are right now. They definitely see through your nervousness. You’re doing a great job and I really appreciate you discretion and assistance around here.”

He gave you a soft smile. “Oh..wow, thanks.”

You nodded and turned on the newly laid floor, ready to head back to the house to continue your paperwork.

The mid-morning sun was at your back as you made your way inside towards the office. You were almost never inside at this time of day, so it was a wonderful pocket of time to be productive. You were greeted by Bucky sitting in your chair, shuffling though papers while he was on a phone call. He drew his gaze from the fan of parchment in front of him, smiling when he saw your face.

“Yeah, just keep an eye on her and increase security all around. Overlap shifts and monitor cameras 24/7. Thanks, Steve. Bye.”

You smiled as Bucky set the phone down. You had never heard him thank anyone before. As you took another step closer, though, you saw which papers he was looking through. Your own smile fell to see the contract from Cole for the hundredth time. Why was Bucky able to be so happy when this attempt at a forceful ‘offer’ was in front of him?

“C’mere, Honey.” Bucky gestured for you to come sit with him on your chair, but instead, you opted to take a seat opposite him, in front of your desk. There was work to be done and you couldn’t let yourself get distracted, even if he seemed oddly at ease.

You watched as his previously carefree gaze scrunched in on itself, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and lips in a slight pout. As you plopped down in the old cushion, you crossed your arms and legs.

“Bucket, I’m doing this for the good of both of us. Talk business with me first, then we can discuss…accessory ventures.”

You nodded in gesture to the papers, hoping he’d explain why this all needed to be looked over again. Was it not enough that it was constantly running through your mind? You had the power to just say ‘no,’ as long as Cole didn’t keep pushing or have anything over your head, but things were never that easy, so what was really going on?

“Honey, come on. We’ve got a little time to be close. This way we don’t have to flip papers back and forth to read them.” His voice had softened from his phone call, nearly reaching a whine.

“James…” oh, you weren’t messing around. You were taking this seriously. “I can read upside down. It’s fine. Just talk me through what’s going through your head.”

He sighed and his chin met his chest in defeat. “Ever since Curtis messaged me that Cole tried to get into the bar and Lloyd had been with him, I just want to be extra cautious, which is why I’m going through these. Again. I’ve already sent them to my lawyer in the city, so he’ll confirm for me.”

You nodded and stood up, finally walking over to him. “So is this what you’re really worried about? What’s not in the contracts, but real-life threats?”

You walked around your desk, hips swerving to miss the corners as you finally stood in front of Bucky. He swiveled the chair so you stood between his legs and threw his forehead against your stomach. You held him close and stroked his hair before he moved to look up at you, resting his chin on your sternum and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Yeah. I’m worried about you. And what’ll come when I have to leave. And just how involved Lloyd may be. I know I already told you about him, but I don’t think words can describe how much he truly doesn’t subscribe to caring for the well-being of others when they stand in his way. I know this is all that Cole has sent so far, but if Lloyd has anything to say about it, this won’t be the last push, but it’ll certainly be the nicest.”

You nodded down to him before gesturing for him to sit up so you could straddle his lap in the oversized leather chair. You held the sides of his face before leaning your forehead against his. You did your best to speak in a firm, yet placating tone.

“Jamie. I promise, I’m going to be fine. I was fine before you and I can take care of myself when you’re gone.”

He closed his eyes and sighed again. “I know, I know. But I just made the command to keep Peter here with you. He’s an extra precaution. You’ll barely notice him, and I’m sure having the help will be nice.”

You pulled away to smile and roll your eyes. “Bucky, he’s a kid. What’s he gonna do that I can’t? Plus, you know I like him. The last thing I would want is him putting himself in harm’s way for my sake.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, you know how capable he is. If I can see it, I know you sensed it from a mile away. He stays at least until it all blows over. Everyone is willing to do what is necessary to protect you. It’s what they signed on for.”

You knew that Bucky wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so instead, you simply kissed his temple and wrapped your arms around him, nestling against his neck. “Okay, fine. But he’s gonna become the buffest farmer you’ve ever seen when he comes back to you. I’m burning all his little suits. You’ll only ever see him in strictly flannel.”

Bucky let out a light chuckle as he rubbed your back, sitting in the chair and enjoying the moment with you before you mumbled against his neck in question.

“So you wanna tell me what Jake was really doing here? And what you did to make him into the same guy he used to be?”

Bucky hummed in thought at your question. He wasn’t quite sure if honesty was the best way to go here. Sure, you knew that everyone who knew about the mines had to come into town, but why have Jake help? And why didn’t Bucky hate him as much as you’d anticipated?

Bucky clicked his tongue before deciding on the diplomatic answer. “I just reminded him of his place and how valuable you are. Not much more than that. He’s smart if you direct the way he needs to think. I mean, he’s half the reason you’re in this mess, but he could help us get out if we do it right.”

“Yeah, okay Mr. Politician. Whatever you say. Just make sure you restock my duct tape. I’ve been running low lately and I’m not sure how that happened.” Bucky froze as you laughed at the reaction. Dang, he should’ve told the truth. You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t already know, you were just giving him the opportunity to let you in. Noted.

The rest of the week on the farm was fairly easy as you and Bucky worked in tandem, sporadically getting updates on the mine reinforcements and spells of assistance from his men.

But otherwise, you got along well. Bucky was truly learning the farm chores and operations, catching on quicker than you had anticipated. He only ran the tractor into one ditch and his boots hadn’t gotten stuck in mud at all. Now you were helping, or at least trying to help, him reach mastery in what you thought he would’ve caught onto easily: barking orders.

The two of you were out in the pasture, as you finally taught him how to use your sheep and cattle dogs. Sure, they were practically self-sufficient, but sneaky little things sometimes with their own agendas. Bucky, in an attempt to boast about all the independent work he had done the previous week, revealed himself for the actual issues he had experienced with them, obviously not unbeknownst to you.

After a long day of running around and nearly a week since hearing anything from Cole, you and Bucky were spent, walking back up to your house to have a nice night in, just sitting on the porch and enjoying the peace. As you got closer, though, you could hardly make out a small brown blob waiting there next to one of the posts. Was it a package? You hadn’t ordered any new equipment lately….and then it moved.

You threw an arm out in front of Bucky, both of you stopping stark in your tracks.

“Wait. Hold on. You see that?”

Bucky grabbed your arm close to his chest when you stopped, leaning over it and squinting until it became clear. What was that doing on your porch?

The two of you cautiously kept walking towards it, finally deciphering what you were looking at: a brown, fluffy, baby… highland cow?

You could hear it moo more and more the closer you got, eventually seeing it tied to one of the porch posts with a rope and a ribbon around its neck: both Turner’s blue.

You walked up to the calf cautiously, holding out a hand and cooing at it to ease its evidently nervous state.

“Shhh, shhhh, hey there little thing. What are you doing up here?” Sure, you owned a plethora of livestock, but none of these. This was, for lack of a better term, a house cow. Something Decks had begged you to get for years, but you never had the need or the time for.

You pet the tuft of hair on top of its head as you squatted down, grabbing the piece of card stock attached to the ribbon before looking up over your shoulder at Bucky. You could already see the anger rising in his eyes and seeping through the rest of his demeanor, fists clenched and body rigid as he nodded for you to read.

“Peach, take a taste of what success could be. Here, have a cow. -Cole. P.S. all in good faith”

Oh, Bucky was gonna have a cow, alright. You rolled your eyes at another ridiculous note. This was very evidently not a dairy cow from his stock, so you weren’t sure why Cole was trying to pull one over on you by claiming it was. And he didn’t even leave it with any feed or water for who knows how long it had been there up until this point. The main question was: why didn’t Bucky’s men intercept? You guessed they were probably under specific instructions not to, as to keep a low profile.

When you looked back up at him, Bucky was already on the phone. Even before you had gotten to the porch, he had sent a message to Peter to check the cams and make sure no one had lingered on the property after the delivery. This new development instantly put him on high alert.

He held the phone to his ear now, though, as it rang only twice before you heard someone on the other side pick up. “Hey Barber, I know you’re busy with that other stuff I sent you, but what do you know about corporate gifting policies?”

Meanwhile, you had untied the poor baby from the post and scooped it up, carrying it inside and to the kitchen while Bucky slumped into the couch. You gave the calf—at least it was a girl capable of producing milk and not a boy-which you definitely would’ve roasted Cole for—some water before taking her over to the couch and setting her down next to Bucky. You ran your knuckles against his temple in a soothing stroke before petting through his hair and giving him a kiss on his hairline. When you pulled away, thumb moving to stroke his cheek, you mouthed ‘it’ll be okay,’ only seeing his jaw unclench slightly at the reassurance. You moved to sit on the couch on the other side of the calf and criss-crossed your legs, petting her and listening to Bucky’s lawyer walking him through corporate gifting laws, now on speaker.

Next >

Bonus A/N: highland cows are so cute. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been sent a video of one getting a little spa day🥰

Series Taglist: @scuzmunkie @openup-yourmind @vicmc624 @hawkeyes-queen @blackhawkfanatic @morgthemagpie @buckybarnessimpp @calwitch

[blackberrysummerblog]

Hi all! Thank you @rimeswithpurple, @cutestkilla, @thewholelemon, and @forabeatofadrum for the recent tags! I can’t believe it’s already this late in the year. It’s not Sunday yet, but I’m working tomorrow so I’m just going ahead and posting early so I can feel like I did something. I know tomorrow can be a hard day for some, but here’s wishing a very Happy Mother’s Day to those of you to whom it applies, and a peaceful day to those for whom it’s a little more difficult ❤️

I’ve been relatively busy with my writing this week (GASP) so I have a couple of things to share. First, some Baz POV from the second chapter of The Field Trap—things are looking up at last:

Eight snakes and a dragon. I knew he would be wet when he came blustering in—it’s why I unpacked his rucksack and laid his spare clothes out by the lit stove—but I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of Simon Snow’s ridiculously thin t-shirt and uniform pants cleaving to his body as though they’d become part of his skin. His chest is heaving, his curls are dripping in his eyes, and he’s holding aloft a brace of four large rabbits that he’s already cleaned.

Honey, I’m home, he’d said, and I know it was a joke, but if I wasn’t dead before, I certainly am now.

“Wipe your feet before you come in any farther,” I say shortly. “Dry clothes are by the fire.” I turn my back and hear him laying down the rabbits and his bow and arrows. Two loud thumps signal his shoes coming off, and then there’s the slushy sound of wet cloth rubbing against itself as Simon makes his way over to the fire.

“You laid my clothes out for me,” he says, like he’s awestruck. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare up at the ceiling, trying not to visualize what’s going on behind me as I hear his sodden clothes hitting the floor. “Baz?”

“What.” Who am I kidding, I’m very much visualizing all of it.

“You can look.” His throat sounds dry. I shake my head, eyes squeezed shut now with the effort of holding my fangs in. “Do you not want to?”

I try to think about everything I told him earlier. He’s going to end up following the Mage to the end of our world someday, and I’ll have to stand with my family. I think about my fangs, ready to burst from my gums at just a hair’s more provocation. I think about how inexperienced with all this I am, and I feel hopeless. And yet…

I turn around.

My second share is from the piece I’m doing for COBB, which I’m really happy to say that the first 5000 word chapter is completely written for. I feel strangely…competent? LOL. Here’s a bit of Dev POV:

And he did. I watched with a cold sort of horror as my cousin, always the more powerful magician of the two of us, stood on our balcony and asked the universe for a handsome man with blue eyes, golden skin dusted with stars, and curls that were neither fully blond nor brown. He would be strong, brave of heart, and make the best sour cherry scones in the world (sour cherry? That’s not even a real type of scone, I wanted to say). Instead I’d said, “That doesn’t sound impossible,” in spite of the sparkly-sounding skin. Baz had given me stink-eye as only he could and can, before adding the coup de grace: “He will have the blood-red wings of a dragon, and a tail.”

It had taken all I had not to burst into laughter at that, but my headstrong cousin was already pressing rose petals into the potion and blowing his breath onto them as he tossed them out into the night air. “Baz,” I’d admonished, but the spell was cast, his heartbroken wish already caught by the breeze and curling up, up, towards where the full moon hung heavy and silent in the sky.

Have a great week everyone! No-pressure tags: @drowninginships @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @nightimedreamersworld @arthurkko @artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @iamamythologicalcreature @aristocratic-otter @tender-ministrations @valeffelees @mooncello @confused-bi-queer @beastmonstertitan @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @raenestee @roomwithanopenfire @asocialpessimist @hushed-chorus @papierhaikuphoto @stitchy-queerista @orange-peony @brilla-brilla-estrellita @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @c0nsumemy5oul @aceumbrellaheroes @larkral @letraspal @stardustasincocaine @cows4247 @shrekgogurt @j-nipper-95 @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @wellbelesbian @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @onepintobean @theearlgreymage @imagineacoolusername @mostlymaudlin @shutup-andletme-go @sailorblossoms @hertragedyconnoisseur @yellobb @ionlydrinkhotwater @alleycat0306

[sunnynwanda]

Hi, sorry to bother!

I’ve had this idea lately but I wondered if you would like to write it, feel free to ignore it if it doesn’t convince you btw

Pet hero whumpee but not the docile type of pet, more like superhero/supervillain has conditioned/deshumanized them to be like some sort of rabid, aggresive pet that attacks anyone who isn’t their “owner”

Maybe they’ve been missing for some time already and when villain (or any other character you want to) finds them, they worry about the fact that hero is attacking them and doesn’t seem to recognize them at all

I hope you’re having a nice day✨✨✨

Master

Warning: dehumanisation, conditioning, pet whump and everything that comes with it, mentions of physical and psychological abuse, grafic injuries, suffocation, blood, gore, murder. I have no idea how I wrote this. Please do not interact if any of those might be triggering for you.

The door opens with a taunting creak, the sound reverberates off the empty walls. Villain takes a tentative step in, glancing around for any traps. The apartment looks perfect in its apparent abandonment - not a thing out of place, no sign of a fight or kidnapping. Hero had been gone for a little over three months. Just like that, no traces left behind, no warnings - nothing. It's like they vanished into thin air. Evaporated. Villain didn't know why or where they went. They had no idea who to contact or what to do about Hero's sudden disappearance. The only thing Villain did know was they missed their nemesis. 

Oh, they missed Hero like crazy. 

They still recalled the brawl they had the day before. Villain was attempting to cause a riot in the city stadium for the fun of it; Hero had been their ordinary cheeky self as well. Nothing new to the usual scheme of things. They took turns delivering the blows and tumbled around a bit; Villain ended up restrained against a wall and accepted temporary defeat despite being capable of obliterating the entire stadium - Hero included - with a flick of their wrist. Both were accustomed to the game plan and felt no need to deviate. The next day, Villain seized a bank and demanded Hero's presence - per standard procedure.

Except, Hero never came. 

They robbed the bank despite not needing the money and departed in a sour mood because nothing was supposed to be of more importance than their battles. Villain expected Hero to return the next day and intended to make them apologise relentlessly for such disrespect.

Needless to say, that wish never came true. 

After a week of waiting in vain, Villain started suspecting something was off. They spent the following weeks in search of any clues to decipher Hero's mysterious disappearance, any clues that could lead them to Hero's whereabouts - to no avail. 

That is, until today. Villain pulls the letter out of the envelope and unfolds it. An invitation to Superhero's estate. Villain hums, scrunching their nose. That's the last place they want to go to, but at this point, they'll resort to anything to find Hero.

Little did they know that finding Hero would be the least of their concerns.  

Villain exits the apartment, making their way outside the city right away. A deep-set sense of anxiety pushes them forward, a feeling of urgency and despair. They can't comprehend what it is yet, the idea building in their subconscious mind, but they can tell it's bad. They can tell it's entirely vile.

Villain doesn't bother announcing their arrival, instead sneaking over the high fences and past the numerous guards. They walk into the manor, darting past the hounds that roam the first floor, and climb to the second floor, where Superhero's study is. Their hands shake with dreadful anticipation. 

Villain pushes the door open, and in the same instant, something lunges at them. Their first guess is that it's another dog, but the assumption soon proves untrue. The creature withdraws at the sound of a whistle, skipping back to the leg of its master.  

"Good boy," Superhero smiles, brushing Hero's hair the wrong way. Villain watches in shock as Hero turns their head to the side, leaning into the touch and licking Superhero's palm like a dog. 

"What the-" Villain breathes out, too stunned to form a coherent thought. They stare with widening eyes at whatever is left of their Hero as they rub their head against their owner's leg, looking for praise. But when their gaze lands on Villain, Hero's expression shifts to pure rage. They snarl, aggressive and aggravated. Villain's voice is barely audible behind their growls. "What have you done?" 

"Me? Nothing much," Superhero grins, hooking their fingers into Hero's collar and pulling at it harshly until Hero starts to choke. "I've taught them what they really are. What they deserve to be."  

"But why?" Villain glances at them, seeing insanity in Superhero's eyes. They look back at Hero's dehumanised form on all fours. Their back is arched in what Villain assumes is a defensive stance. Their mind is reeling, running a hundred miles an hour. They cannot grasp the situation in full yet, refusing to believe that the creature in front of them is indeed Hero. Their Hero. "W-why?" 

"Why, you ask?" Superhero drawls, fisting Hero's hair and tugging with brute force. Hero falls onto their back, letting out a whimpering whine. Villain turns away, unable to take the sight of them in such a state. "You think I haven't noticed the little play you two have devised? Your little game of back and forth?"

"What are you..." Villain starts, getting up from the floor. Hero jumps up, preparing to attack. Superhero zaps them with a shocker, sending their body back down with another loud whimper. "Stop! Please... For the love of God, stop!" Villain yells, their lips and hands trembling in desperation. 

"Hero failed. Their purpose was to defeat you. They could have done it months ago," Superhero explains, using their foot to prompt Hero's chin up. "They chose not to. They betrayed their pack, so they needed to learn how to be a good dog." 

Villain shudders at the impassive tone of their voice. "You've conditioned them into submission. You've turned them into an animal, you monster!" They spit out, their eyes flaring up with newfound rage. Their fingers curl into fists as they look around the room, trying to find a solution. An escape.  

"No, I've made him my pet. I'm a patient master," Superhero caresses Hero's cheek and rubs their ear, their touch looking almost soothing until their fingers squeeze, digging into the skin on Hero's chin. "Now, attack."

Hero switches into a fight mode with a snarl, their teeth glimmering white in the dim-lit room. Villain dodges the attack by jumping to the side and reaching out to take hold of Hero's head, prompting them to meet their gaze. 

"Hero, it's me!" Hero's pupils are dilated and empty. They seem incomprehensive. "Please, Hero, it's me, me..." Villain pleads, tears brimming their eyes. For a short moment, something seems to flicker behind Hero's gaze. But, Superhero blows their whistle, and Hero loses all sense of self again, attacking Villain with renewed vigour.  

"No, no, no," Villain tries their best to hold Hero back without hurting them. Their voice is thick with emotion when they speak again, struggling to contain Hero.

"Look at me! Please, just look at me..." Their expression is nothing short of begging, but Hero remains unaffected. With no other choice left, Villain grasps Hero's collar, hooking their belt through it and securing it. 

Hero is rabid against their leash, thrashing on the ground as Villain stands, facing Superhero. 

"No matter how far you take them, they'll always be my pet," Superhero hisses, crossing their arms over their chest with an unmistakable sense of victory. They are so confident in their conviction that they don't bother to arm themself.

"You still don't get it, do you?" Villain lets out a dark chuckle, but there's no humour behind it. "It's not them that betrayed the pack by refusing to defeat me. They could never defeat me in the first place. It was me. I'm the variable you didn't take into account," Villain growls through gritted teeth, taking a step towards Superhero and wrapping a hand around their forearm. "And I will burn you to ashes." 

Before Superhero can register it, their skin starts melting off their body, the tangy smell of burnt flesh filling the room. In mere seconds, Superhero's body hits the floor, their moaning sounding like music to Villain's ears as fire washes over them. Hero howls, tagging at their impromptu leash, but Villain remains unyielding. They kneel next to them, ripping the whistle off Superhero's neck, then wrap the belt around their knuckles, forcing Hero to their feet. Villain cups their cheeks, their fingers tender on Hero's clammy skin, and looks into their eyes in hopes of finding recognition - all they see instead is fear.

Primal, animalistic fear.

They gulp down the lump in their throat and blow the whistle, watching Hero's eyes light up in recognition of their new master. 

Villain knows it's going to be one hell of a journey to get their Hero back. They know it will take weeks, if not months, of constant grind to heal what was so thoroughly broken and even then, Hero might never return to their former cheerful self. But they also know there is no one more worth fighting for. 

Villain misses Hero like crazy. And they will have them back. 

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, darling! Oh, it's not a bother in the slightest! I'm glad to have you here. I have to admit, for the longest time, I had no idea if I would be able to finish this story. It felt very raw, very painful and hit a little too deep. But at the same time, I felt the need to explore the theme, both as a writer and as a psychologist. So, thank you for this request. I hope it turned out how you imagined it. Love, xo Sunny

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing@lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist@excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers@miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon@burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney@thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode@villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

[silverfoxstole]

Bears, bears, bears! Bears everywhere! And Doctor Who bears at that, made specially for and presented by me to Paul McGann, Sophie Aldred and Sylvester McCoy at Portsmouth Comic Con.

As most of you probably know, I document my bear-making activities on here and I made an Eighth Doctor bear a couple of years ago, followed by a Seventh Doctor last summer. Ace was a new one, and because of that I ended up making two, the first as a prototype that I kept for myself, working out the details of the costume, particularly the jacket, and the second for Sophie.

Back in February when I decided to make Anne Bearleyn I found that my usual type of fur was unavailable so I had to go looking for another, ending up with something that while it looked lovely was fairly hellish to sew as it shed everywhere. It was all I had when it came to making the first Ace bear, however, and so I went with that. Afterwards, having got covered in fluff again, I tried to find something similar to the fur I’d used for most of my previous bears, but when it arrived and I started putting one together decided that when compared to the bear I’d just made it looked cheap and nasty, which was definitely not what I wanted for this particular project. Consequently that fabric went on a one way trip to the bin and I ordered more of the other stuff, resulting in what I’ve termed a ‘furpocalypse’ when I decided to cut and sew three more bears in one day:

I had to vacuum both the room and myself four times, and clean out the sewing machine twice! That fluff gets everywhere, even up your nose! It was worth it in the end, though, as the result looks so nice. As the pile is quite thick I had to glue on the noses and use felt for eyebrows as thread just vanishes, but I think that actually looks better and allows for more expression.

I made a second set of Ace clothes while I was waiting for the fur to arrive; the first jacket had been a bit too small and I’d only had satin to use for the lining which disintegrates as it’s sewn, not something I wanted to give someone as a gift. It was a painstaking job to replicate the badges and decoration on the jacket with felt and embroidery thread, but I was pleased with how it turned out:

The costume is based on one from Remembrance of the Daleks, the skirt and t-shirt made from jersey and the decorations on the latter also of felt. She has a plait, rucksack and baseball bat, as well as a nitro 9 canister in her hand/paw (which I actually swapped out for a better one on Friday but didn’t take any pictures of it). The nitro is attached with velcro and can be exchanged for the bat. My only tiny niggle is that I made the jacket lining the wrong colour, only realising it should be orange when I started rewatching Sophie’s episodes last week, but that’s just my perfectionist side at work and her new owner didn’t mind.

“Aaaaaace!” You can see my original Seventh Doctor bear here; I changed a few things working on the new one, this time using blue eyes and making the jacket in cream rather than brown, mainly as a contrast with the darker fur but also so he would match season 25 Ace. I decided to use red paisley for scarf, tie, hatband and handkerchief, adding a red trim to the last two. The jumper once again took a couple of hours’ work, and as this was a present for Sylvester this time I did embroider question marks and chevrons all the way round!

For the umbrella I cut out several long triangles and stitched them together in imitation of a real brolly, using a bit of a skewer covered in felt for the pole (that’s not the word but I can’t think what to call the middle of a umbrella for the life of me!), to which I attached some jewellery wire pinched from my sister (shh!) twisted into the shape of a question mark. That was then covered in yet more felt. I’ve made a lot of things from felt lately!

And voila: one finished Seventh Doc bear:

I do hope Sylvester spots that he even has spoons in his pocket. 😁

Last but not least, we have Eighth Doctor bear, which I actually started first but I didn’t have enough fabric for his coat so he had to sit and wait while I worked on the others. My original is here; he’s gone through a few costume tweaks as I’ve tried to improve on things and this time I mainly used scraps left over from my own cosplay and made them up in the same way: shirt, scarf, waistcoat, belt and gailters are all the same as mine, and the coat is identical material but from a different source.

His shirt and waistcoat both fasten with buttons, and I made the watch chain and belt buckle from embroidery thread. It took several attempts to get the boots and gaiters right, and I went from having quite a large piece of faux leather to something about a quarter of the size, most of it ending up in the bin! Unlike my Eight bear he has a sonic screwdriver, made from - yes, you guessed it! - felt. Fortunately the TVM sonic is quite a simple design, unlike the other one I made which can be swapped with this one to go with the Dark Eyes outfit I ran up on an impulse because I had scraps left from my own jacket and put in the bag with him; hopefully Paul will find it as that DE sonic took me two attempts to get (somewhat) right!

I changed the shape of the lapels on this new coat so that they were more like the real one, and I also took some pics of him in his Dark Eyes gear:

I confess that he was the one I found it hardest to give up. Look at him:

And he matches me!

I had to keep telling myself that I couldn’t keep him, I’d made him for Paul, but it wasn’t easy!

Finally, a few pics of them together:

I was so, so pleased with the way these turned out. Along with Bush (about whom I’ll post separately), these are the best bears I’ve made so far, and I’m glad that Paul, Sophie and Sylvester were just as happy with them!

[lexalovesbooks]

Wait something weird appears to be happening in tags hang on. Testing.

[that-was-anticlimactic]

one of the worst feelings ever is wanting to write but your hands hurt too much or the words just don’t want to work so you just sit there staring at a half finished doc with tears in your eyes bc you want to write and you need to write but everything is telling you that you can’t

[thatringboy]

rwby in a honkai star rail AU where the plot is exactly the same except the Brothers are now Long and Tayzzyronth and Salem hasn’t realized that those aeons are dead is this anything

[blitheringbongus]

Can't believe Scar saw a rapidly approaching, dishevled mumbo and went "he's so cute." I need to run unorthodox experiments on them.

IKR SAME OMG

They’re literally perfect for each other <- delusional

But seriously they have so much lore together in my silly brain and the few interactions they do have (WHICH HAS BEEN INCREASING A LOT LATELY MAY I ADD) has been FUELING the fire rapidly and gods gods GODS do I have many thoughts about them

[akkivee]

who made you get into hypmic

“i opened “i locked it” “i threw away the door” the key”

[arthur-r]

i’ve gotten really bad over break at falling asleep in a time frame where i can wake up in the morning and function at capacity. but in other news i’ve written a very angry song aimed at my father. so that’s fun

[iron-cutting-meteor-sword]

I’d decided ever since I first got into Lupin that I was going the completionist route and consuming all the media from it that I could find, but there are some bits that I am dreading going into lol. Despite this I am determined to find something useful and or enjoyable about each Lupin thing I find, because there’s always something you can pick out from them and because to me that’s a fun way of gathering little bits of info and meta on the series and characters, and seeing how they interact or oppose each other. This isn’t to say I’ll ignore the shitty stuff that’s waiting there, but I’m also not going to be writing a post about every bit of awful shit and how I disagree with it for every post I talk about appreciating something, because I trust we all understand and agree that that is clearly not what anyone worthwhile likes or approves of about the series. I may even consider making a meta post talking about the worst recurring themes and content that has stuck around in the franchise over hundreds of different development teams due to negative influence from the various different and levels of cultures involved as well as time period, lack of gender diversity, and internalized bigotry; but also discuss how the series has worked towards visibility on certain issues like queer men in media and even more recently touching on the short hand Fujiko had been drawn for so many years by her getting an entire series for herself written by a woman, and how there is clearly a wide array of people that have touched the foundations of the franchise to make it what it is and how these positives and the negatives sometimes intersect on their way to the surface. It’s such a nuanced subject though and I really don’t want to make a post about that just on the fly. Not to mention I’m certainly not the authority on all the subjects that would need to be covered for such an analysis and I’ve certainly not “arrived” in any sort of way in terms of progressive understanding and analysis of themes and narratives in media, but maybe one day I can start a decent and good faith discussion about the different views on consuming media like Lupin the Third that is so chock full of content that should be left in the past and rightly criticized. Tangent aside, the point is I may talk about or reblog posts about or from some of the less popular installments of the Lupin franchise, and talk about some of the stuff I liked and disliked. Its my opinion that there’s something to be gleaned from each piece of Lupin media, and it all constitutes the giant tower of content that makes the series, even the foundation, the original manga. Despite all of its massive, massive problems, and like it or not, the manga is the reason the anime exists, and it’s history and influence on the series (and the history and influence on the manga itself) can’t just be thrown aside or ignored, as it still influences the series to this day! I think by the logic that is is the foundation of the franchise, there’s clearly something informative to rip from the pages. You just have to join the queue of people waiting to piss on Monkey Punch’s little clown grave after you read it.

[pussymasterdooku]

anyway ten and a half months into my wrist sprain(s) and i’m braced up again…got a cortisone shot the other day so hopefully that finally resolves it but it has been worse again for a couple weeks now inexplicably (to me, i’m sure a reason technically exists) thus my return to the doctor…if it’s not better in six weeks ie at the one year mark they’ll do another MRI and see if i did actually manage to make it worse but good God will it ever end.

[jcbmcdrmtt]

Sorry if I am not as good about tagging stuff for the foreseeable future. I shattered the screen of my tablet (to the point where there are chunks missing and glass dust coming off under your fingers and you can see the electronics under the screen), and I normally use that + a keyboard case to browse tumblr. I’m using my phone now which means a.) no physical keyboard, and b.) I don’t have as much battery life so my time is more limited. I do not see a point where I can replace the tablet or get it fixed anytime soon either.

All that coupled with the fact that I normally use tumblr in a browser, not the mobile app, means it’s a lot harder to tag things now, especially if I can’t just tap to apply OP’s/the reblogger’s tags because they didn’t add any or i don’t like what they used etc.. Tumblr mobile is honestly tiny and kind of crap on my phone browser - the keyboard makes the screen elements squish together and some things like tag rearranging are broken.

TL;DR: You may possibly see more untagged posts from me in the coming weeks. I apologize, understand if you unfollow, and just. Yeah. I guess I just wanted to explain myself as I normally pride myself on my tagging etiquette.

[enkvyu]

12:45am — gojo satoru ;

“cute earrings, where’d you get them?” shoko asks.

“hm?” still clinging to sleep, you absentmindedly reach up to caress the metal dangling from your ear. the sharp indents of its gem pricks you back into a memory. “oh, these. i got them from a friend last week.”

“friend? or do you mean boyfriend?”

shoko’s words are throwaway, her wandering eyes and yawn a clear indication yet your face warms despite yourself. shaking your head furiously, you exclaim, “a friend! just a friend."

shoko hums, shifting her cigarette to the other end of her mouth. her gaze flickers somewhere behind you and you almost look too, when her words pull you back. “come to think of it, i don’t think you’ve ever told me what your type was.”

“my type?” your mind blanks. “i’ve probably never told you because i’ve never thought about it myself. i mean, being a jujutsu sorcerer and all, romance is kind of off the table.”

shoko keeps looking at you, pressing you without words. you grimace and sigh.

"i mean, i guess, maybe someone good looking? someone who’s not boring? and now that we're talking about it, someone who is fit and athletic too. they'd have to be smart, but not book-smart, like, street-smart." the more you think of it, the more words seem to spill from your mouth. "and someone who has a good sense of humour, someone who will make me laugh.”

“someone good looking, interesting, sporty, smart and funny? that’s too greedy.”

you giggle. “you’re right, there’s no way there’s anyone that perfect. i guess i’ll have to be single forever.”

“you'll always have me.” shoko says, grinning.

you push her shoulder but don’t deny it.

yaga walks into the classroom, cutting your conversation short. you spin around in your seat to face the front, eyes accidentally meeting gojo’s. he turns around too, and you reason that he was probably looking out the window behind you. you see getou snicker and whisper something in his ear, but gojo seemed to be having none of it, blatantly ignoring him.

seeing his face makes you think. didn’t gojo kind of match your type? someone attractive, interesting, athletic and maybe not academic smart, but he definitely carried an air of confidence when it came to fighting. and it wasn't a secret that he lightened the air wherever he went, intentionally or not.

with a start, you look back at shoko. “and someone calm. someone with manners.”

“well-mannered and calm. what insane preferences.” shoko chuckles. “are there any more?"

yaga slams his hand on the table a few times, reluctantly drawing your attention back to the front.

your previous conversation dies and twiddles away into the background, overtaken by droning lectures and predictable missions. by the end of the day, you can't even remember what you had told shoko early that morning.

when you enter the classroom the next day, you’re surprised to find gojo already there, seated at his table. his sunglasses hangs lower on his nose than usual and most curiously of all, a book is held in his hands. you’re not sure if he’s actually reading or not considering that pages were being turned far too quickly for someone reading “ordinary objects” by amie thomasson.

his eyes flicker to yours as you head in. “good morning.”

“morning. what’s with you?”

gojo clears his throat. “what ever do you mean?”

your frown transitions to a grimace. “why are you talking like that? did you break something of mine? was it my potted plant, gojo i told you to take good care of it!”

“i am taking care of it! it’s not dead yet!” he exclaims before pausing uncharacteristically. he sits back in his chair and turns back to his book. “i mean, it’s fine.”

“you sure?”

“i am.”

you narrow your eyes before looking away, dropping into your seat. “it better be. shoko got me that one.”

“speaking of shoko, is she not coming today?”

“i think she stayed overnight at the morgue.”

“is that so? perhaps i should write notes for her. i wouldn’t want her to miss out on class.”

you turn to him horrified. “so you did kill my plant!”

“i said it’s not dead!” gojo bursts. another pause. he clears his throat, adjusting his glasses. “i simply worry for her.”

you stare at him and watch as he fidgets under your gaze. “are you feeling sick? did you eat something wrong?”

“i’m not sick. what part of me looks sick?"

“well you’re usually not this…” you watch him as you wrack your brain, trying to find a word to describe this situation. “c…”

gojo leans forward. “yes?”

“crazy.”

he falls back in his chair, groaning, book forgotten and placed harshly down on the table.

you tilt your head. “where's getou, you guys didn’t come to class together? don’t tell me you fought.”

gojo peers up and frowns. “no, can i not show up to class early just because i feel like it?”

“it would be extremely out of character, yeah.” you rest your chin on your hand as you watch gojo mutter to himself, his jaw jutted out and his nose scrunched.

he was clearly unhappy, it didn’t take a scholar to know. it might take a genius to figure out why though.

you had time to kill, might as well take up the challenge. maybe he hadn’t had his morning dose of sugar yet, or maybe his favourite anime had delayed it’s upcoming episode. maybe he didn't save properly on the new game he was playing, or maybe he simply didn't sleep well last night. or maybe he had lied to you and he had fought with getou, leading to this strange attitude.

the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. the way he was acting now was like a mockery to getou's usual behaviour.

“are you trying to be like getou?” you try.

gojo whirs around to face you. “what?”

“well, you’re trying to be composed.” he keeps staring at you and you clear your throat. “like more well-mannered. more calm.”

gojo remains silent but you watch as his jaw drops. you think that he might say something but then his mouth closes, only to open again.

gojo speechless, what a sight. but as good of a sight as it was, you were beginning to feel concerned.

“are you sure you’re alright? what did you eat yesterday?”

he doesn’t register your question. “you think getou is well-mannered?”

“yeah?”

“and calm?”

you nod. “more than you, at least.”

“do you think he’s interesting too? sporty? smart? funny?” he pauses. “good-looking?”

the questions throw you off guard and you sit up. “what? where is this coming from?”

“oh my god, you do.”

“no? i mean, i think getou’s great and everything—”

“you think getou’s great?”

“don’t you?”

“you think getou’s hot.” he concludes. “and you think getou’s great.”

"what are you even saying?"

"i don't know. why don't you tell me?"

baffled, you flail for words. “are you jealous of him? that's strange, i didn’t think either of you would ever feel jealous of each other.”

gojo grits his teeth and looks away. with a pout, he says, “me neither.”

the door to the classroom is thrown open and getou steps through, rubbing the back of his neck. he yawns on his way to his chair and it wakes him up, looking between you and gojo as you both watch him enter.

“what did you guys do?” he asks with a sigh.

“nothing!”

“nothing.” gojo says and glares at him.

getou blinks.

“okay.” he says slowly, sliding out his chair and sitting. “what did i do then? why are you both looking at me like that?”

“gojo’s being weird.” you snitch. “are you guys fighting?”

“how should i know? i thought we were doing okay. gojo, if i did something, use your words and tell me.”

"i'll use my words to tell you to suck my dick instead."

"so i did do something. you're so predictable, gojo."

you snicker as gojo huffs and glances away, looking away out the window behind your head. his train of sight cuts right past you but you can’t help but feel slightly flustered as he looks on, almost like he was looking at you, so determined to ignore getou’s pestering.

subconsciously, you drown getou out too, your traitorous mind observing the blue in gojo’s eyes. you had always thought it was just one colour, but looking at it now, it seemed more like a kaleidoscope of blues, the many shades sparkling and dimming as he watched birds flutter outside the window, and you watched their shadows through his eyes.

something shifts, in the air or in the skies you don't know, and gojo meets your eye. startled, you hold the gaze and he holds it too, just long enough for your lungs to run out of air.

you look away hastily and inhale.

gojo glances to the front, oddly fidgety.

getou looks between the two of you. “what the fuck was that?”

“nothing.” gojo says.

getou clearly doesn't buy it but though he tries to get an answer out of you, you don't give him one either. cupping your cheeks, your thoughts mirror his question. what was that? it was embarrassing, that's what it was and your realisation is only heightened as a silence fills all four corners of the classroom.

gojo clears his throat. “for me, i like someone who i'm already comfortable with. someone i already know.”

at his words, you look over at him and find him already staring. he frowns as you don't give him any other reaction.

yaga saves you from addressing his statement, walking into the room as the bell for class rang. "oh? you're all early, even you gojo. where's shoko?"

“she’s staying at the morgue because of the recent mission.”

“i see.” yaga nods. “then let’s start.”

your mind fails to work as you turn over gojo’s words, thinking them through. what did they mean? what was he talking about? did this weird confession have something to do with why he was acting so strange?

slowly, you draw connections between your conversation with gojo and the talk you had with shoko yesterday morning. an epiphany shoots through you and you cover your mouth to hide a gasp.

did that mean…?

someone he knew? acting strange? getting mad when you said you liked getou?

you watch gojo’s side profile, hoping he’d turn around. if what you thought was right, he’d turn.

seconds tick past. yaga’s voice drawls on and yet gojo doesn't even spare you a glance.

no, maybe you were wrong after all.

just as you were about to face yaga again, gojo’s head shifts and his eye flicks over to yours. they widen when he finds you, and you’re sure you’re in a similar shocked state.

oh my god, you think, eyes darting between him and the other boy in the room.

gojo has a crush on getou.

filler imagine based off of that One scene from the manga: "megane tokidoki yankee kun"

[frankiegirl]

i looooooove not sleeping and always being in pain and being unable to unclench my jaw and having a headache literally all the time and always always being there for everyone else when no one can be there for meeeee

[smolbasilboy]

why does my mental health take such a nose dive every-time I get sick