#that's like. 2 months worth of posts here

[redemptive-truth]

A Time to Pretend | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: Four years ago, she survived the impossible—going toe-to-toe with the Winter Soldier and living to tell the tale. Now, Bucky Barnes is on her balcony, broken and bleeding. And her? She’s always had a soft spot for lost causes with blood on their hands.

MCU Timeline Placement: Post-CATWS

Parts: Part 1, Part 2

AO3 Link

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 5.2K

Author's Note: Thank you for all the positive feedback on the first part! I pay attention to all the likes, reblogs...it is so awesome to see people like my writing. I am beyond grateful.

This chapter takes place directly after the events of CATWS, four years after the first part. We'll get more of Bucky in this one, and every part from here on out.

New parts will be posted every Monday.

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Part 2: April 2014, Washington D.C.

She had never planned on joining S.H.I.E.L.D. After her father’s death, her life had a singular trajectory—follow in his footsteps. She aced high school, dominated a few sports, and went straight to West Point. One tour in Afghanistan later, with a Medal of Valor pinned to her chest for single-handedly extracting a group of hostages from a compromised safe house (her left shoulder still aches every damn day where she took a bullet) she realized the war she was fighting no longer felt worth dying for. She wanted to protect her country, but she wanted to do it a different way.

Maria was the first to bring up S.H.I.E.L.D., though she didn’t pull strings to get her in. She had turned her down the first time she offered—too little was known about the organization, and she wasn’t fully convinced of its intentions, especially after the mess in New Mexico that had been plastered in the news for weeks.

What finally made her cave wasn’t some flashy recruitment pitch or secret clearance offer—it was a funeral.

A friend from her unit. Honorable discharge. Bronze Star. He’d come home and tried to make a real difference, running for Congress on a platform of veteran support and foreign policy reform. He’d been outspoken, too outspoken. Three weeks into his campaign, he was gunned down in broad daylight outside a community center in Virginia. The news called it a random act of violence. She didn’t believe in random after her father’s death — not anymore.

She stood at the back of the funeral, sunglasses on, fists clenched in her pockets. Another folded flag. Another family gutted. And for what? For trying to fix things the right way?

That’s when it hit her — that she wasn’t doing enough. Not really. The fight wasn’t just overseas. It was here, hidden, festering in shadows.

S.H.I.E.L.D. had secrets. She still didn’t trust half of them. But it was boots on the ground, eyes in the dark, cutting off threats before they spilled out into the world. It wasn’t just about stopping wars to them. It was about stopping every threat in all shapes and sizes.

She called Maria that night and within a month, she was off the books, in black – learning how to disappear.

And then, four years into her time at S.H.I.E.L.D., Captain America blew the lid off everything.

HYDRA had been rotting the agency from the inside out. Fury “died,” the Triskelion fell, and S.H.I.E.L.D. collapsed almost overnight.

It was a shock—of course it was. But the real blow came when national broadcasts showed Captain America fighting the same Winter Soldier she remembered from Inessa. She had frozen in her apartment, mouth half open, heart clenching as the masked figure moved with clinical precision on every screen in the country.

It was him. There was no doubt in her mind.

And yet…

What haunted her most wasn’t the experience itself. It was the fact that he had chosen to let her live.

No one ever understood it. When S.H.I.E.L.D. agents tracked her distress beacon and found her unconscious in a dark alley near the Inessa hotel, her body broken and battered, the Soldier was gone. There were no bodies left behind. No witnesses. Just her, injured but alive.

She should’ve been dead. Everyone knew it. The Winter Soldier had left her alive, when he was known for his murderous efficiency. Fury had grilled her about it for weeks, but she had no answers to give him. She had no idea why herself, and no way of knowing. She had no ties to the Soldier, no idea who he even was. Why he left her alive was a mystery.

But what could they do? Especially now, with S.H.I.E.L.D. gone? The only path left was forward. Rebuilding, however fragmented. Hill took a job with Tony Stark—much to her irritation (he was still a narcissistic playboy, after all). Fury disappeared underground, waging a silent war against the remnants of HYDRA. The Avengers stayed loud, in the spotlight, fighting gods and monsters in broad daylight.

And her?

She was left behind. A West Point graduate with a Medal of Valor hanging on the wall because it’s what her father would’ve wanted. On a Friday night, she found herself applying for jobs online with a half-drunk Corona to her right and cold takeout to her left—wondering how a decorated soldier and trained operative ended up questioning how some of these jobs even existed.

She shook her head begrudgingly, squinting at the bright screen in front of her with the neck of her beer in hand. “I should’ve listened to Maria and gone to work for Stark,” she muttered, taking another swig.

She’d met Stark once—at some glitzy gala the city threw after the Avengers saved New York. She’d met all of them, technically. She’d worked a few ops with Romanoff and Barton—didn’t know either very well, but they had her respect. Banner was awkward but polite. Thor had kissed her hand like she was some noblewoman in a medieval court. And Rogers? Exactly what she expected: gentlemanly, a bit uptight, but kind through and through.

Stark, on the other hand, wasted no time flipping between complimenting her looks and questioning whether it was her “pretty face and famous last name” that had fast-tracked her through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s ranks. She’d smiled—tight and polite for the cameras—let out a practiced fake laugh, and then elbowed him squarely in the ribs as discreetly as she could on her way past.

When Maria had called, She had respectfully, but sternly proclaimed that no, she would not work for that egotistical asshole, regardless of how much money he could offer her. And he did offer a lot – apparently, according to Maria, her little stunt at the gala was right up his alley. Which left her applying for desk-jobs in the DHS with a resume she had literally just crafted up two weeks ago.

Another long swig of the Corona. Another deep sigh of self-loathing.

The news flickered across the TV screen, volume muted. She liked to stay informed—but she couldn’t stand to hear it. The same loop played again: Natasha Romanoff sitting before the Senate, speaking calmly about the Triskelion and the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. Not that she needed to justify much—Steve Rogers had already won the court of public opinion. He could do no wrong in their eyes. And even she had to admit, if anyone was built for the moral high ground, it was Captain America.

Maria had filled her in on the details that didn’t make it to the public, how Rogers and his team had stopped Project Insight just before launch. The most shocking part hadn’t been the corruption or the surveillance state nearly unleashed, it was the Winter Soldier. Or rather, who he used to be.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. KIA during World War II. A Howling Commando. Steve Rogers’s best friend.

Apparently, HYDRA had captured him after his fall, injected him with a version of the same serum Steve had, and then spent decades turning him into a ghost story—an assassin they could freeze and unfreeze like a weapon on ice. The reports said he had no memory of his past. But then he’d pulled Steve out of the river, saving his life, and vanished without a trace.

She had only seen him once, back in Inessa. The whole interaction lasted maybe a few minutes, max. But he hadn’t killed her. He’d said something to her—remembered something, maybe. That had to mean something.

Or maybe she was just hopelessly optimistic for no damn reason.

She hummed low in her throat, draining the last of the bottle before pushing herself off the couch. No way she was getting through this miserable experience on a Friday night sober. She made her way toward the fridge, already reaching for the next beer.

And then froze when a sudden crash rang out from her balcony. The back door rattled violently in its frame, blinds shivering with the force.

Her heart stopped, then dropped to her feet.

Instinct overrode everything else. She pivoted on the spot, yanked open the nearest kitchen drawer, and pulled out one of her handguns. Safety off instantly, her grip firm on the weapon.

It was too dark to see anything beyond the drawn curtains. But she could hear it—soft, uncoordinated shuffling on the other side of the glass.

She crept closer to the balcony door — her bare feet quiet on her hardwood floor — gun raised and steady. Every step pressed her heartbeat higher into her throat.

She stopped just short of the door, breath caught, gun trained on the center pane of glass. Another beat passed. Nothing.

Silence. Just the faint thrum of D.C. traffic outside and the sharp rhythm of her own breathing.

Then - movement.

A shadow staggered into view. Not creeping. Not poised to strike. Just… collapsing.

Her instincts screamed trap, but in her gut, something deeper, said no. She had seen men collapse like that in the field before. You could tell when it was genuine after you had seen it dozens of times.

With one sharp exhale, gun ready, she reached out and unlocked the door. It slid open with a low groan, the brisk evening air rushing in, carrying with it the iron-sharp scent of blood.

And then she saw him.

The Winter Soldier.

Except… not.

He was slumped against the balcony railing, swaying like a man trying not to pass out. He looked more ghost than man - his clothes carrying dark stains of blood, his face drawn and pale. Dark, long hair was soaked in sweat, clinging to his forehead and cheeks. His jacket was torn open, revealing deep wounds, some clotted over already, some still fresh.

But it was him. The same man who had nearly killed her in a freezing back alley in Inessa. The one she’d locked eyes with for one breathless minute before he’d vanished into the snow.

Now, he was looking at her again—but this time there was true recognition. His eyes were still the same bright blue, but…they were clear. No haze, no lack of emotion. Just desperation and pain.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came. He swayed uneasily, his knees buckling.

She cursed under her breath, moving on instinct, catching as much of his weight as she could. Still, the bulk of him made her stumble backwards awkwardly. “Goddammit—what the hell?”

She eased him to the floor, heart hammering. Up close, he was worse than she’d realized—ashen skin soaked in sweat, wounds everywhere. Knife slashes. What looked like a bullet hole low on his left side. He clutched at it with his metal hand like something was broken underneath. Probably a rib. Maybe more.

“I don’t know why you’re here,” she muttered, hoping the utter panic wasn’t leaking out into her voice too openly. The last thing she needed was to look weak. “But if you die on my balcony, I’m gonna be so pissed.”

He blinked once, lips moving, but she couldn’t make out the words. Something in Russian?

Then he slumped forward, unconscious.

And there she was, standing over the infamous Winter Soldier, sprawled on her balcony. Bleeding, no weapons in sight. Vulnearable

Her gun felt like it was burning in her hand.

She froze.

One shot. That’s all it would take. He’d never even feel it. End of his story. She could finally do what no one else had. No grand fight, just a well-placed bullet. No one to tell her she was wrong.

How many people had he killed? How many lives ended under that metal hand?

But…under HYDRA’s command.

She inhaled sharply, screwed her eyes shut. “Fuck,” she hissed to herself, raking a trembling hand through her hair.

This was what she was supposed to do. What she should have done back in Inessa, before the op went sideways and he disappeared like a ghost. She’d lived with that regret for years.

So why was she hesitating?

She raised the gun. Lined it up with his temple. Finger hovered on the trigger.

Silence…except for the faint hum of cars below. The TV still flickered in the background, the wind pushing through the half-open door.

Her hand shook.

Slowly, she lowered the weapon with a soft curse.

And, because she was apparently the world’s biggest idiot, she holstered the gun, got a better grip under his arms, and dragged one of the most dangerous assassins into her living room.

She dragged him in with more effort than she would have liked to admit, the soles of his boots leaving dirty streaks on her floor. Once inside, she eased him down onto the couch with a grunt, wincing as his head lolled to the side. Still out cold.

She stood over him for a beat, panting, trying to process what the hell had just happened. She should call someone. Maria, maybe. Captain America? No, not them. Not yet. Not until she figured out what the hell was going on.

Instead, she moved on autopilot, darting to the kitchen for the first aid kit, her hands still shaking as she popped the lid open and gathered everything she needed: gauze, antiseptic, bandages, scissors. She’d bandaged up enough wounds in warzones – she could manage well enough here.

Back at the couch, she knelt beside him and hesitated, really looking at him for the first time. The last time she’d seen him was through the haze of the night in Inessa. He’d been a weapon in black, fast and merciless, eyes like frostbite. Now, he was barely breathing. Pale, battered. Utterly human.

She set the supplies beside her and reached for the hem of his black tactical shirt after she removed his jacket, soaked through with blood.

“Sorry about this,” she muttered, mostly to herself, and carefully peeled it upward.

The fabric clung to the bloody wound on his side. She winced as it finally came free, revealing angry bruising, deep lacerations, and the bullet wound—a clean entry, but bleeding sluggishly. The damage spread across his ribs, one of which was visibly swelling. She’d seen worse in the field, but not often.

And then there was the arm.

She’d seen glimpses of it before, back in that chaos, but now it was inches from her face. Stark, silver steel, fluid and brutal in design—jagged plates and seamless joints that hummed with cold power even when at rest. The red star on the shoulder was scratched up, faded. She noted the red, raised flesh where his flesh met the metal, and old scratch marks - now white, raised scars. Almost like claw marks.

It was strangely beautiful, in a terrifying kind of way.

She ran a hand down her face and got to work. First, she cleaned the cuts—quick but careful. Then came careful dabs of the antiseptic, which he didn’t flinch at, confirming he was still fully out. The smell hit her immediately—sharp, biting. She began to clean the area of the bullet wound, doing her best to slow the bleeding.

Her hands paused at his ribs. No way to splint them properly without dragging him to a hospital. She muttered a quiet apology and taped a compression band around his chest anyway, just to minimize movement.

The whole time, she kept her thoughts at bay. Kept things clinical. He’s not a person, not yet, she told herself. He’s an asset on her couch, and she’s doing triage. That’s all this is. But when she was done, when she finally leaned back on her heels and looked at him—bare chest rising shallowly, blood wiped clean, arm catching the low light with an eerie gleam—she felt something sour stir in her gut.

Because he didn’t look like a monster anymore. He looked like a man.

And she had no goddamn clue what she was going to do when he woke up. What he would do. Did she just bandage him up before he was sent to kill her?

“God, this is such a bad fucking idea…” she muttered, eyeing the bandages she’d just finished wrapping. Her hands hovered above his chest, unsure whether to keep going or walk away entirely.

He was a super soldier, right? That’s what the S.H.I.E.L.D. reports she’d skimmed last week said. If he was anything like Rogers, he’d heal fast—maybe not instantly, but fast enough to survive without her playing field medic.

Her gaze dropped to the bullet wound, flesh torn, blood still seeping sluggishly around the edges. It wasn’t clean by any means. And the bullet was still in there.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, muttering. “What am I supposed to do? Just leave it and let you dig it out with your fingers when you wake up?”

He didn’t respond, of course, he was still unconscious. And she was the only one here to deal with the situation at hand.

She took a breath, steadying her hands as she twisted the cap off the antiseptic bottle again. She glanced once more at his face. Still seemingly out cold. Brow furrowed, jaw slack, lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly. If he didn’t wake up for this, she wasn’t sure if it meant he was just that strong or circling the drain.

“Sorry in advance,” she muttered.

She poured the disinfectant over the bullet wound.

The reaction was immediate.

His eyes flew open, and his body jerked violently beneath her hands. A sharp, strangled noise tore from his throat as his left arm—his metal arm—shot out in reflex, grabbing her wrist with a strength that stopped her cold.

“Shit—hey! Easy!” she gasped, yanking back instinctively. There was no escaping that grip, though. She barely moved. His eyes were wild, unfocused, chest heaving. His gaze darted around frantically, like a trapped animal in a cage.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” she said quickly, her voice low but steady. “It’s just you and me here, nobody else. Look at me.”

For a moment, he didn’t. His grip stayed firm, the cold metal biting into her skin. She suppressed a flinch, holding herself still.

Then his eyes met hers. Recognition sparked—faint, fleeting. A flicker of something quieter. His grip slacked, hand dropping.

She stepped back half a pace, her heart pounding. “You with me?”

He swallowed, voice rough. “Where…?”

“D.C. My apartment. You showed up bleeding out on my balcony,” she studied his face uneasily. “Ring any bells?”

Barnes grunted and turned his head, jaw tight. She waited—just one word, a thread of explanation—but none came. His silence was louder than anything he could have said, his face closed off, eyes fixed hard on the floor. Every line of his body screamed shutdown.

Still, he hadn’t killed her. And wasn’t actively trying to right now. That counted for something. She’d only seen him once before but even now he seemed different. Not softer, exactly, but… more human. There was emotion in his posture, tension in his face. And his eyes—clear, alert. Not the void she remembered. He was still wound tight, but he didn’t look like a machine anymore.

He had saved Steve’s life though, after the helicarriers collapsed. The Winter Soldier wouldn’t do that.

She leaned in slowly, pausing just long enough to gauge his reaction in case the closeness set him off. Aside from a twitch in his flesh fingers, he didn’t move. She held back a sigh of relief.

“I’ve done what I can so far,” she said softly. “But there’s still a bullet I need to remove. Will you let me do that?”

His blue eyes snapped up, surprise flickering across his face, like he couldn’t believe she was asking. Like the idea of being given a choice was foreign. She supposed it was. He glanced down at the wound, then at her hands, and gave a small, quick nod before ducking his head again, hiding behind his hair.

She nodded once, keeping her movements slow as she reached for the supplies she’d set out beside him. Nothing too sudden. Nothing that might set him off, especially given how wired he seemed—like a cornered animal waiting for the next blow. Basic medical gear. Probably not nearly enough for anyone else, but he wasn’t exactly a normal human.

“I’ve got ketamine,” she said quietly, holding up the small vial and syringe with care. “Not much, but it’ll dull the worst of it. Help you get through this.”

His whole body stiffened.

“No,” he said instantly, voice low and clipped. “No needles.”

She hesitated. “You’ve been shot – “

“No,” he repeated, shaking his head, eyes hard. “No injections. Not again.”

The air in the room shifted, he didn’t have to explain. She understood indirectly – a fear from his past with HYDRA, no doubt. Her throat tightened with guilt, but she gave a soft nod and lowered the syringe, setting it aside without protest.

“Okay,” she murmured. “No needles.”

He exhaled sharply, his shoulders still coiled with tension, but he relaxed just a fraction.

“I’ll do my best to be quick,” she added, picking up the tweezers. She glanced at him. “But this is going to hurt.”

“I’ve had worse,” he rasped.

She didn’t doubt it.

Working quickly but with care, she began to extract the bullet. His breathing stayed steady, but she could feel the tension radiating off of him, like he was just barely holding himself in place. She kept her voice low, talking steadily to try to distract him. And maybe get some answers.

“Why are you here, Barnes? How did you even know where I live?”

His jaw clenched again, but he didn’t answer right away. She caught the way his left hand gripped the edge of the couch, metal fingers digging into the cushion.

A beat passed.

“Didn’t know where else to go. Found your address in an old HYDRA file.” he said finally, voice almost too quiet to hear.

She glanced up at him, eyes narrowing just slightly. The fact that HYDRA knew where she lived definitely gave her a twinge of internal panic, but it wasn’t like that wasn’t public information someone could just find online if they looked hard enough. “So you came here?” “I…I remembered you,” he muttered, like it was the only explanation he owed her. He looked nervous, blinking a little faster and refusing to make eye contact. “From…before. Seemed…right.”

She assumed he meant Inessa. Odd choice—but maybe his instincts had been right, considering she was elbow-deep in his blood right now. She snorted as she pulled the bullet free from his flesh, letting it drop onto a paper plate. “Lucky me. I must’ve really screamed ‘natural-born healer’ while you were beating the hell out of me.”

He didn’t respond.

She pressed a clean cloth to the wound and reached for an antiseptic. “Well,” she murmured, as she dabbed it into his wound, “next time you decide to bleed out on someone’s balcony, maybe call ahead.”

Still nothing.

“Okay,” she said quietly, more to fill the silence than anything. “Tough crowd, huh? I’m going to stitch you up now.”

He gave a barely perceptible nod. His eyes stayed fixed on some far-off point beyond the wall, his whole body still drawn tight, like even this simple act of care was a battle he wasn’t used to fighting.

She pierced the skin with the first stitch. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“You could’ve disappeared somewhere,” she murmured, tying off the thread. “But you didn’t. You’re still here.”

No response. From her position, she couldn’t see his face through his curtain of dark hair. Just the edge of his jaw - clenched and tense.

She made the next stitch, quick and clean. “You didn’t go to Steve either.”

That got something. His mouth tightened.

She kept her gaze on the wound, continuing to press out of genuine curiosity. “Why not?”

He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, he spoke, voice low and strained: “Didn’t want him to make me stay after what I did.”

“But you do remember him,” another stitch, another beat of silence from the former assassin.

He didn’t answer. Just swallowed.

She didn’t push—just finished the last stitch and gently wiped away the blood. After securing the gauze with a bandage, she finally sat back, eyes flicking up to his face. He looked away, teeth still clenched, like the words were still crawling under his skin. Like being here, being helped was almost worse than bleeding out alone. He had to be pretty desperate if he was coming here to a woman he had no attachment to. But then, when you were a recently brainwashed hundred year old, super soldier assassin, your inner circle had to be pretty nonexistent.

She still was confused why he ended up here, but judging by his lack of chattiness, she doubted she would get more than a two word answer.

She stood slowly, wiping her hands on a towel, then tossed it into the bloodied bowl beside the couch. For a long moment, she just looked at him — this man who had once been nothing more than an intimidating name in a file, a monster in the shadows. Now, he was bleeding on her couch and trying his best not to fall apart.

“I’m going to tell Steve you’re here,” she said finally, calm but firm.

His head snapped up. “Don’t.”

She blinked, surprised. “He’s your friend. He’s been looking for you — he never stopped. Even I know how much he cares about you and I barely know the guy.”

“I said don’t.” There was steel in his voice now, raw and sudden. He pushed forward, trying to stand.

“Hey—no, no, stop,” she said quickly, reaching out to steady him. He swatted her hand away but the movement cost him. He staggered backwards, legs buckling as pain seized through him.

“Damn it,” she muttered, catching him for the second time that night before he could completely collapse. “You’re still losing blood. You’re in no condition to go anywhere.”

“I can’t stay,” he gritted out, trying to shake her off.

“You have to,” she snapped, forcing him back down with more strength than she looked like she had. “God, you’re fucking stubborn. If you leave like this, you’ll bleed out in the street, and I’m not dragging your ass back inside a second time after all this work.”

He collapsed back onto the couch, breath ragged, the fight draining out of him.

She had to get him to stay.

Sure, the guy’s kill count probably broke records, but the man in front of her wasn’t him. She kept telling herself that. This man was a victim, really. It had been hard to justify at first, and yeah, she was still very much on edge, but the humanity of it all ran deeper than fear or instinct.

He needed help. That much was obvious. And if he wasn’t going to get it from Steve—or from S.H.I.E.L.D.—then she owed it to the barest thread of morality to help him herself. For as long as he’d let her. Plus, he was a huge threat. Or used to be, she still wasn’t sure. Someone had to keep an eye on him if all this was a farce.

She crouched in front of him, lowering her voice again. “I won’t tell Steve. Or anyone else. Not if you stay. Just until morning. That’s all I’m asking.”

His eyes met hers, staring at her intently, suspiciously. But something was cracked and tired underneath it all.

Finally, he gave a slow, reluctant nod.

“Okay,” she said softly, affirming it out loud. “Just ‘til morning.”

He leaned back, closing his eyes, shoulders slumping as the tension in him finally gave way — if only just slightly.

She sank into the chair across from him, watching his chest rise and fall. Another question that she had yet to ask was burning in her mind.

“How did you get hurt?” she asked quietly.

His eyes flicked to hers, wary. He didn’t answer right away.

She hesitated, then added, “Did you kill someone?”

That hit a nerve.

His jaw locked, the muscle twitching just beneath the surface. “Is that what you think I do now?” His voice was low, sharp around the edges.

She held his gaze, unphased by the anger. “I think someone put a bullet in you and you nearly bled out on my balcony. I’m trying to understand what happened.”

He looked away, exhaling hard. Frustrated. “What’s left of HYDRA is still chasing me.”

She sat up straighter. “I thought they were gone.”

“They’re not,” he said darkly. “Not completely.”

“And this?” she asked, nodding toward the bandage. “Was this them?”

“I neutralized the threat,” he said, flat and final. A confirmation.

Something about the way he said it sent a chill down her spine, but not from fear. From the weight of it. The exhaustion in his voice. Like he hated that he had to do it.

She stood up carefully, gathering up the bloodied gauze, the tweezers, the stained towel—everything she’d used to piece him back together. Wordlessly, she carried it all into the kitchen, rinsing the tools under the faucet one by one, her gaze never fully leaving him.

He hadn’t moved. He lay there with his eyes shut, breathing evenly but not quite at rest. Every so often, he flinched—just slightly—when a pulse of pain pushed through him. Not asleep. Just…still. Like if he let his guard drop for too long, the whole room might turn on him.

She filled a glass with water and walked it over, setting it quietly on the table beside the couch. That got his attention. His eyes opened, sharp and suspicious as they locked with hers again.

She lifted her hands in surrender. “I promise I’m not here to do anything but help,” she said gently. “As long as you don’t kill me. We got a deal there?”

His jaw tightened, lips pressing into a thin line, like her attempt at lightness rubbed him the wrong way. But after a moment, he gave her a single, reluctant nod.

She exhaled slowly, pointing toward the linen closet behind her. “There are extra blankets and pillows in there, if you want them. Try not to move too much—just let your body catch up.”

She nodded toward the hallway next. “My room’s down there. Door before it is the bathroom. I’m gonna go to bed, but… if you need anything, knock.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at her with those piercing blue eyes, unreadable but no longer cold.

Another nod.

It wasn’t much. Not trust, not really. But it was something. She nodded back, awkward in the silence between them, and turned toward the hallway.

The truth was, she didn’t know what this was yet. A favor? A risk? A mistake? Maybe a bit of everything.

But he was still here. Still breathing. And he hadn’t killed her.

That had to count for something.

[scarfacemarston]

RDR LGBT History Reading List

I meant to post this earlier, but life happened, but at least it's before the end of pride month! Notes: Why are there so few books? Well, that's almost everything I could find. I researched two university libraries, my public library, and Amazon. People began writing about this subject in the 1990s. A lot of people are NOT receiving funding to write about these topics, so that's another reason. I'm sorry there aren't more accessible books, but this is likely all you'll find. These books are almost all MLM because historians believe that they are more prevalent in the archives and society. Notice how there is only one book about lesbians and it only has about 30 pages that pertain to RDR. That's it. The "Re-dressing" book contains some lesbian scholarship, but it's next to none. It's very disappointing. There are literally people who have written about how difficult it is to write about lesbians, but the fact that there is basically NOTHING really bothers me. I think some of it is sexism and some of it is laziness.

Love Stories: Sex between Men before Homosexuality by Jonathan Ned Katz

Amazon: Here Archive: Here

I actually own this book so that’s a good sign right there. Unfortunately, I can’t find the book so I had to rely on the previews. It starts off with pretty early history with Abraham Lincoln and his alleged lover. I really like this author’s writing style. It’s professionally written, but doesn’t talk above the reader. I would say he’s very approachable. I love how many quotes and other primary sources he included like the plethora of pictures, portraits and related media. I found the book to be a quick read and I think it’s a good start for beginning history readers.Yes, the book does cover the West and the different love stories that pertain to that era, so yes, it will fit Vandermatthews and later Charthur or similar ships.

2. Loving: A Photographic History of Men in Love 1850s-1950s by Hugh Nini and Neal Treadwell

Amazon: Here. Archive: Sorry, not uploaded here yet. Might have to sail the seven seas for this.

This is a newer book and newer books aren’t usually uploaded to archive.org yet. This is definitely a book I would get at the library, unless you like “coffee table books” and conversation pieces. The book itself is lovely from what I can tell and it’s obvious how passionate the authors are and the diligent work they did to produce the book. As a historian, I’ve only had a taste of how terribly difficult archival work. I’ve worked with archives for six years. It’s HARD work, especially having to find hidden histories like this. It’s a lot of luck. So the book itself is amazing in what it contains, but  you wouldn’t know that by the preface. Skip it. It’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever read. Of course, this will scratch the Vandermatthews itch and it does contain later history that would relate to John, Arthur, etc. But overall, definitely a book worth checking out at the library/or other archives. 3. Queer Cowboys: And Other Erotic Male Friendships in Nineteenth-Century American Literature by C. Packard.

Amazon: Here. Archive: Here.

This book is difficult to review because the previews are so short. Just about 7 pages for one link and 12 for the other. I wasn’t able to check out the book either so my review is kind of worthless here. From what I can tell, this is a good book and that many people seem to enjoy it.From what I can tell, it covers a wide berth of history and the “West”. It seems to be one of the “Must reads” in the history field, but to be fair, we also don’t have many LGBT+ “Old West” books in the field. From what I read of the previews, they write in an easy fashion and I liked the pictures that were included in the GoogleBooks preview. The author also stresses the importance of including Native American, African American and Mexican voices. This is the first book that has been so blunt about inclusivity, so I consider that a big win. I’d say the book is worth checking out.

4. Re-Dressing America's Frontier Past by Peter G. Boag

Amazon: Here. Archive: Here. Sadly, it needs a university/college/high school library connection.

This is a really good book. I included it because of Sadie Adler, but some could use it for Charles Chaterney. This is very inclusive for transgender people and nonbinary, but it also covers Cis women who feel that it is most convenient or enjoy dressing up as men. However, there is the element of the stereotypical “Who plays the man in the relationship” dynamic instead of talking about how these relationships can be a step towards equality. However, at the same time, the male identity was important to some people so it makes sense in a way in order to “legitimize” the identity for the person who is cross dressing or trans. It’s entirely possible that my idea of equality is just too new of a concept, though. (At least, in terms of white society.) The book is extremely easy to follow and has so many primary sources. I loved reading so many of the quotes from the individuals themselves instead of just from those around them. There are also tons of pictures, ads, newspapers, and other ephemera. Highly recommend this book. 

5. Frontier Comrades: From the Fur Trade to the Ford Car by Jim Wilke.

Amazon. Here. No archive. This book hasn’t been released yet, but I have high hopes for it, especially given the diversity of the case studies. This is one of the few books that seems to feature lesbians of different background, but I’m also intrigued by the differences in case studies featuring men.

6. Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America by Lilian Faderman

Amazon: Here. Archive: Here.

I used this book for my LGBT history for Marvel list. I own this book. Lillian Fadermen is literally the premiere historian of lesbian history. Like, there may be only ONE other historian that rivals her. If you want lesbian history, especially inclusive to transgender women, this is where you go. Don’t let the age of the book fool you. This book is actually on two of my LGBT lists because of the span it covers. This book covers everything, I swear. With all that said, her writing can be a bit dry. Some parts of the book were a bit of a slog, but she does use a lot of primary resources and that livens it up a bit. Her book’s later chapters definitely has diversity in it, especially covering Harlem.However, for Sadie and Abigail (and co) I would recommend chapter 1 for Boston Marriages, even though they focus more on Upper class women, and chapter 2 gives more of a view of “Everyday women” in this time period. Interestingly, they included sex workers.

[every-sanji]

[deoidesign]

HI I think I sent an ask a while back about having recently found TaTA and a) if it came off as trying to rush/guilt you. I am so sorry because that was NOT my intent, and b) I can hugely guarantee you have at least one person who will eat up any return, no matter when it happens, because I care about the guys so much 🥺 really looking forward to whatever comes next!!

Oh, I appreciate this a lot thank you!

Tbh it's a stress I would have regardless of anyone asking me about it, I'm probably the biggest one rushing and guilting myself on it. Which might contribute to some of the burnout I had...

My complaints are more about people who are demanding "more content daddy" or asking me if I'm dead or asking on every single post I make where it is... Wondering when it's coming back is completely reasonable, it's been a long time! but there's definitely a line haha

my editor also keeps randomly scheduling me and then saying "oh, btw you're scheduled to return in 3 weeks. Is that alright?" And I have to keep saying no, that's not alright??? And then dealing with that process...

I could write an essay about all the reasons it's not back yet, but that doesn't help me feel any less pressured, and it doesn't help you all get the rest of the comic any faster...

As of right now I'm scheduled to and trying to return october 21. No official announcement yet cause I have to do a lot of work in that time, but it's my official goal at least. When we get closer I'll be able to say for sure whether it's coming back on that date!

[madzillus]

I started watching Interview with the Vampire. My thoughts are now consumed by Interview with the Vampire.

[mwagneto]

i've literally been non stop studyinf for a week i can physically feel my entire body shutting down. im not making it out of this fr

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Backing up the billion photos I have on my phone after putting it off for literal Years, but I just hit the QSMP section and man... :(

[bittersweetresilience]

there are twenty seven songs in my félix playlist which means a few more and i can do a monthly writing game. why am i saying this when i have several important wips i am meant to be doing? well, you see

[thecherrygod]

/

[vaspider]

Listen to me. Listen very carefully:

They are trying to wear you out.

They are trying to wear you out, and they own most major social media now, along with many major media outlets. The disinformation machine is cranking along. You are going to have to slow the fuck down and read things before you help them wear out other people, too.

So you just saw a post about a real scary bill, hunh? Republicans want to make it a capital offense to pet dogs and repeal The Sky Is Blue Act of 1793, declaring the new official color of the sky to be squant? Damn, that sounds scary.

Let's go look up this fictitious "Make The Sky Squant Again Act" on GovTracker* & on the official legislative tracker on congress.gov!

Well, let's see... GovTracker estimates it has a 1% chance of even getting out of committee and a 0% chance of being enacted, while congress.gov says this bill has 2 cosponsors who have been in the House and combined total of less than a month. The bill doesn't have any actual text, and it was referred to 5 different committees.

That fictitious bill and a hundred others like it are quite literally not worth your time, and more than that, continuing to wring your hands about it and tell other people about the scary scary squant sky bill only does their work for them. It scares people, it makes them spend time and energy on it, and it wears them out. It is a legislative Gish Gallop, meant to throw so many things at people that we can't keep up.

Even calling or messaging your Rep in this case means their staffer has to waste time responding to you and letting you know that Representative Buttzonheads definitely won't support making petting dogs a capital offense, a thing that will never, ever happen regardless.

Staying engaged in this environment is going to require protecting your heart and protecting your energy, yes, but also protecting the energy of others. This is why WWII propaganda posters also included ones taking people to task for spreading panicky rumors and undermining morale.

Do you know why most observant Jews don't eat chicken and dairy together, even though the ban is on red meat and dairy together bc you're not supposed to cook the calf in the milk of its mother?** It's not because we think that chicken might secretly lactate or Just Because. It's because the rabbis decided that if I'm sitting out in public and eating turkey and cheese together, someone might glance at the turkey and mistake it for red meat and think, "oh, well, I know that Spider is a good Jew, there must have been a change, or maybe I can just justify it to myself that if Spider does it, it must be permissible to bend the rules just that much." And I would then be accidentally leading my fellow Jew astray. We are responsible for being even more careful for the sake of others than we are for ourselves.

It's the same principle here. We need to really be careful about the information we are spreading and check things past reading a news site. Is it true? Is it relevant? Is it meaningful? Is the news site one I recognize? Can I find meaningful independent corroboration on another site, which is to say, if I find an article about it on a second site, is it just quoting or rephrasing this site?

Yeah, that is a lot. But that's how we keep them from using us to lead our fellows astray.

*GovTracker is an independent site. They explain their methodology in their About section.

**I cannot say enough how I am not at this time interested in going on a Jewish Side Quest About Dietary Laws on this post. Usually, I love it, but hold off this time, please, y'all. Let's stay on target this once.

[yosh-iro]

im starting to regret buying shit for my mom to "pay me back" on

[meamiki]

Here is the original ramble! Actually I will preface this new rb by saying please feel free to correct me if I am mistaken in misremembering anything in these!! Okay here it is under the cut proper

vvv

---

Okay, so honestly this is more or less an excuse to ramble out an appreciation post (of sorts) on everyone tbh, since I do not do that often if ever. I'm just using the quote picks to keep me a bit focused on topics a bit more specific than being completely aimless!

[Also specialist of special shoutouts to my friends Squid and Aya for proofreading all this. Ily guys ever so dearly <3333]

---

Mirabelle

"Avoidance, huh... That feels... a little too cowardly, for me."

The Housemaiden, who would probably fulfill the 'Hero' role if this was a normal RPG, Mirabelle! She has a lot going on that's so interesting to me!! Okay tbf everyone else does too but I really just needed a segue.

She's the chosen one that wasn't really chosen. The reason she was blessed was due to circumstance, and it wasn't even by the Change God either. Because of that, she feels immense pressure/imposter syndrome since she knows the truth of her blessing. Speaking of feelings, she also already felt like she’s failing her own faith for being comfortable with herself, in staying the same forever. For not wanting to Change in that way, when everyone else can, and feeling broken because of it. And, of course, she literally has anxiety and hasn’t had access to her meds throughout the entire quest. That probably also does not help in the slightest!! It's an interesting stewing pot of feeling like a fraud of a 'chosen one' with all that in mind.

And yet, her dedication to her faith and country shines through her actions and words, whether she knows it or not. She’s not someone to avoid her worries. She’ll face them, head-on, even if she doesn't think she'll succeed. I feel like this quote captures it best to me actually! Especially since it's a direct response to Sif saying that they try to avoid their own doubts and worries, in comparison to Mira’s own in her own faith. It almost feels like a subconscious response, and to me that says a lot.

[Side-tangent, but it's also interesting to me that this very dedication works against her, in a sense? Like, notably the bonding proposals. Beyond the societal pressures in play related to the Change belief, she is also the one to take the initiative to ask a dating company for bonding proposals, it didn't just happen around her (as in, no one suggested this to her)? Even when she isn't even interested in dating anyone to begin with! She's not interested in Changing in that way!!! That is to say, her head-on dedication can be to the point of her own detriment at times, to the point of bringing her woe? Not sure if I am wording this properly. Just a thought I had, idk if it has much merit tho. Sorry if that made like no sense!!]

But yeah! She gives it her all in just about everything she does!! She was already known as the most hardworking Housemaiden in the House, always striving to better herself, always taking new classes prior to all this (over 150! and she herself said that she couldn't do anything before coming to the House, which makes it all the more impressive). And when faced with the insurmountable task of saving her home, all of Vauguarde, from being frozen over by the King? She continues on to take on the mantle as the chosen one, the one who will save everyone, and she starts it off completely alone. She's the reason the journey was able to play out, and why everyone is together in the first place. All because she isn't one to avoid her doubts and worries, and willingness to do it scared, yanno? It's just a small part on what I appreciate about her, but I think I'm going to cut myself off here!

---

Isabeau

"Doesn't that feel like someone you wouldn't feel ashamed of knowing?"

Isabeau!! Literally the whole “Change is destruction” convo that Isa has prior to this quote was up to be picked, but I figured picking the end would be easiest. But now that I think about it, I think all my picks are basically at the end of the FQ's so that point is sort of moot. Oh well! It's just hard to pick a singular quote off of these okay!!

Isabeau from the start of the game is shown to be portraying himself as a himbo. Big guy, dumb guy, the like. But, even from the start, there are signs that he really isn't stupid, like at all! First early gameish example I can think of off the top of my head, that distinctly shows this, is the color theory book. Mainly because he sort of kind of drops the facade for a split second there. Without proper context to his deal, it's just a funny moment. But, reflecting after the fact, it's more of an '...OH!' moment, since he seems to have been kinda upset about not knowing about colors (even if he's hamming it up a little bit, saying he's 'failed them all' for not knowing what colors were.) And that's not even going into his emotional intelligence either.

But, delving into his FQ the full picture is shown. That he wasn't always this big boisterous guy. He used to be the nerdiest kid around, incredibly shy, and because of that he didn't like himself much. But then he Changed and is much happier now, compared to back then! Even after his Change though, he's unhappy with some aspects of himself. He doesn’t like being considered dumb because of his act. And, even after Changing, that kid from before is still there, right? As much as he continues to project this air of cool confidence, he can never truly be rid of that part of his old self, can he? The one always paralyzed by fear.

With that, comes the quote pick! Since, to me, he's not necessarily talking to just Siffrin here, but also to himself. Because it all boils down to his own self-hatred, I think? He himself does mention this in the A5 version of this FQ, albeit kinda heat of the moment, that he "...keeps changing personalities like clothes, because it's easier than learning to like myself." He's still a work in progress in that regard. But even still, he is trying to be better, for the people he cares about.

[Small aside, that too can maybe stem from his own self-loathing? Putting the people he cares about first. I mean, he is the one who told Sif to focus on the others first. And even after that, he was putting focus onto Sif at first during his FQ (as in, talking about how he thought Sif would like seeing the stars, only letting the convo slide into focus unto himself after Sif made an obvious topic change.) The quote also kind of reads as an ask of reassurance, in a sense? That him Changing again would allow himself to be someone that people would like, even if he himself doesn't like himself. Idk where I was going with this tbh, but I think it makes sense to keep its inclusion here!]

Overall, I just think it's interesting to revisit Isa's previous dialogues with the context of the FQ!! Especially when thinking on the underlying reasons as to why the way he's acting the way he is, even while seeing signs from the start that he isn't the airhead he was masquerading as.

---

Odile

"I'm Ka Buan and Vauguardian, in ways I do and don't realize... And I am also myself."

The Researcher, Odile! I think I’m just gonna jump right into it without a semblance of an intro since I know it’s going to be a lil less focused. Mainly because I know for a fact I will not be able to articulate this ramble that well, so here we go.

As the oldest party member, it makes sense that she's much further along in her own character development / self-discovery journey in comparison to the others (at least in relation to her FQ centered struggle on finding out more about herself in relation to her heritage), and I think her FQ, in itself, helps portray that. Compared to Mira and Isa, who are still in the midst of their own personal journey on how to address their turmoil and putting it to action, Bonnie, who is the youngest of the group and is learning how to tackle their issues to begin with, and Siffrin who is going through All That™; Odile has come to a conclusion about her own woes, where the others have not. 

That’s part of the reason why I went with the quote pick actually! In a sense, it’s a display of self-assuredness in herself that can really only be gained with time and experience. She’s also able to explain her feelings on her heritage eloquently as well, and the convo prior to the quote helps express them too! It’s the recognition that yes, her mixed heritage helped shape who she is as a person in ways she may or may not realize, that it’s not the only factor at play here in regard to her identity. It’s the fact that, at the end of the day, what matters most is that she is herself, yanno?

Even with her self-assuredness towards herself, it’s also interesting to me how that contrasts her closed-offness to the others, especially in outright saying/showing that she cares? Which also probably also stems from her mother, someone who was supposed to love and care for her, leaving without a trace early on in life. It makes sense to me that she would have reluctance in showing that she cares for the others!! What if she ends up hurting others similarly to how her mother hurt her?  Of course, she wouldn’t want to do that to the others, and is distinctly also why she does NOT want to be called a Mom. 

[Tangent that doesn’t relate as much to the quote, but I want to touch upon anyway since it’s FQ related. I also want to point out that the FQ helps inform us why Odile is more willing to question things around her / be more sus? When her mother left, she left nothing behind, and with it, any links to her Vauguardian roots. This left her with a complete loss of that connection, one that was stolen from her and, with that, the feeling like she didn’t belong anywhere as a result. This led her to be curious enough to seek out a resolution to that feeling, lending more into her inquisitiveness on just about anything. How else would she be able to learn more about Vauguarde, without asking questions, after all!]

All in all, for Odile it’s a bit harder for me to elaborate on why I like her? I dunno, I think it’s just hard to sum it all up as eloquently as she probably could LOL. 

---

Bonnie

"So you can protect me, and I can protect you... And we can protect everyone, too!"

Bonnie!! TBH I had a toss-up on what specific quote the drawing would be based around. The other one being “You got hurt because of me and— And I don’t like it!!! I don’t want it to have happened! You should have stood there and let me be hurt!” . Because of the toss up both quotes will be discussed somewhat, since they go hand in hand with the ramble!

[To note, the toss-up was decided by putting it on a poll to my friends, as a simple “choose !” with the options being “joyful” or “angsty” with ZERO context. I told them after what the poll was for (basically if Bonnie would be crying or not in the drawing) and I got threatened for that one HAHA.]

But, to start, Bonnie has had, not once, but twice, people sacrificing themselves in some way for them (Nille telling them to run and getting frozen, Siffrin losing his eye.) Makes sense, because they're a kid, so of course those who are older need to protect them. Still, they are not happy about this, about people getting hurt because of them, and understandably so! It probably doesn't feel good to have your loved ones putting themselves in harm's way for your sake. But what can they do, right? They're a kid and don't really get a say on the matter. I mean, what else can they do? It makes sense to me that Bonnie is frustrated about that part!! It can be frustrating to have everyone discuss things around you, have everyone do things that you don't want them to, and (unintentionally or not), ignoring your input as a person because you are so young.

Kids are smarter than you think. Even if they may not have a full understanding of what's going on, they can certainly follow along and get the gist. Like, for example, Bonnie always listens in on the burial conversation during the second snack break (first found out either during a FQ run or in Memory of Promise). They even pretend not to hear whatever Siffrin says to make everyone think that they aren't listening in! They also seem to hone in completely to the conversation the second Isabeau says that it doesn't matter what happens to him after he dies, since they stop prepping at that point. Even worse, everyone starts discussing how they won't let Bonnie be killed. Which, if it comes to fruition, would be the third instance of people getting hurt because of them, and would be another thing they get zero say in! And everyone thinks they aren't listening in on it, meaning they were being discussed around. Plus, in Memory of Promise, while they don't have the words to articulate why everyone talking about their deaths is so upsetting to them, this context spells out the picture of them not wanting people to be hurt because of them, time and time again.

So when they get a proper opportunity to have a say on something, their promise with Siffrin on protecting one another, to protect everyone too? It makes the exchange all the sweeter to me! It's the first time, in probably a long time, Bonnie has had proper input on something from someone older than them on an important decision. For once, they get to stand on a more equal footing to an adult, rather than being treated as a kid who doesn't know what's going on. And, it probably means more to Bonnie than Siffrin realizes.

---

There’s probably a lot more of examples/subtopics I am forgetting to add onto all of these but. Please forgive me, but a good chunk of this was written while I was travelling or in one sitting on my singular day off after travel ASDAFSA. I might genuinely be forgetting something I wanted to talk about, esp since I couldn't double check stuff easily. I've been going off a combination of memory and downloaded friend ISAT streams LMAOOO.

Feel free to correct me on stuff I possibly? Completely misconstrued as well?? Since that is entirely possible in happening! Or further add onto thoughts! In short feel free to extend the discussion on any of this! But yeah, wrangling (some) of my thoughts on why I like them has been fun :D

And to those of you who read all of this to the end, thank you for reading my ramblings!! And if you're skipping to the end, FAIR ENOUGH LMAO!!

Regardless though, I'll end this off with a fun lil fun fact about this post! If I scheduled this properly, it should be going up at 11:11... somewhere! I thought it'd be a fun easter egg to myself. Mainly bc I remember people always used to say "11:11, make a wish!" a lot when I was school whenever the clock struck that time. I just thought it'd be fitting to queue this up for that time is all :]

---

Happy Anniversary In Stars and Time!! Have some Friend Quest based drawings :D

(These have specific quote picks related to them! And there's also a long ramble on why I like those specific quotes below if interested)

(And by long, I mean roughly 2k+ words of proper ramble total, so be warned before clicking keep reading this link right here to the rb!!)

[catmask]

meowdy! looks like our move to a new apartment is not going to be so peaceful after all - our old apartment is currently leaking sewage water and we have to evacuate four people and two cats! donations are appreciated, but im opening an emergency sale + commissions too! (more under the cut)

KO-FI SHOP SALE + EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

DISCOUNT CODE IS 'LEAK' IN ALL CAPS

so for this section, i'm going to break down everything thats happening + when things will come off hiatus! i'm hoping that everything will be set up in the new place by JUNE 1st, so that is the hard deadline i'm setting to start all functions up again as usual.

WHAT'S HAPPENING?

two years ago, my fiance and i were offered emergency housing when we (very suddenly and tragically) became the parents to his orphaned little sister. both of us are only 26 and had to move 8 hours from where we had been living at the time, so the housing we had was the best 2 people with few connections and no established jobs could find within a single weeks notice.

since then, we have been saving up and working to finally have a proper place to live. and we did so! at the beginning of this month we found an apartment where all of us can move to. we have a friend staying with us who is helping with the move as well.

i really wanted this move to be seamless - basically, you wouldn't have had to know it was happening. we were going to pay double rent for two months while i would stream and work from the old place, and begin sleeping at the new one. its expensive, but i didn't want my real life to trouble anyone here.

unfortunately this is no longer possible. the old building we were staying at had a pipe begin to leak, then eventually flood our entire apartment. this has been a reoccurring problem the landlord hasn't seemed to find a solution for, and it's led to a biohazard where we were planning on slowly moving from - leading to an immediate and emergency evacuation for the safety of everyone in our family.

SO... STREAMING?

will be back online as soon as possible! we moved out our tech as soon as we could due to fear of water damage, and it seems like everything is A-OK. we just need to rebuild my desk and sound proof the new room, so this will probaaabbly be back online within a week? im just going to take the week off to make sure everything is set up and there are no bugs. (digital. digital bugs.)

LAIKA'S COMET?

for the sake of not losing my buffer crazystyle, i'm pausing laika's until JUNE 1st. but i'm going to post one more page right now to leave you guys on a cliffhanger because i think it's funny. (the ko-fi will still update as regular as i finish pages! tbh, in between moving i am going to be drawing.... a LOT... it's like my only self soothing activity i have access to right now </3)

SHOP STUFF?

you basically won't notice a difference. orders go out every 2 weeks anyway, and literally the day before this happened we completely caught up to date. that + all of the goods we had were already moved over because (similar to the tech) we were worried about water damage, so nothing will be yucky... (i dont know if i can say the same about our furniture or clothes ; _ ; )

FINAL NOTES

while we did manage to get out with emergency bags and a weeks worth of outfits + things to sleep on + cook with, we have no real means of knowing the extent of damage until we bring things out of the apartment and clean them here. thankfully *most* things appear undamaged, its largely the flooring and the smell that are unliveable... walking through puddles of sewage water and having to wear a mask to breathe is not really liveable conditions.

however, considering this move is sped up way faster than planned, and i wont be able to work during it - any sales or donations are hugely appreciated. ; w ;

i'm sorry to ask for help like this, and its only if you are comfortable to do so!!! i can work hard, so i don't mind doing a little extra art to make money, this is just if you feel okay to help out and would like to.

if you read this far, thank you so much - hopefully next time i will return with good news - and maybe a new apartment tour...?

[febuwhump]

FEBUWHUMP 2025 PROMPT LIST

this year's prompts were chosen through an open suggestion poll (in which we received over 4,000 prompts) and a subsequent vote, where 5,019 votes were submitted. the top 28 make up the core prompts, and the febuwhump mod's favourites that remain have become the alternates. the first prompt in the 28, "vocal chords", was our number one prompt of the vote, with 1,625 total votes.

i am so insanely excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and i hope they're inspiring enough to trigger a whole month's worth of creativity for you!

as an extra added challenge, some creators will be undertaking another, smaller goal, of including apples in each of their prompt fills as an ode to the wildly popular prompt suggestion of "apples" that didn't make it through to the poll. this is totally optional, but is a good extra challenge if you'd like to take part in it!

if you have any questions, please check out the faq before sending an ask, or skim the blog's previously asked questions to see if your question has already been answered.

please note: notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form released towards the end of febuwhump, and if you are interested in joining the febuwhmp discord server, the link will be available to do so for one week towards the end of january.

full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:

FEBUWHUMP 2025 PROMPTS:

DAY 1: vocal chords

DAY 2: holding back tears

DAY 3: pinned down

DAY 4: hivemind

DAY 5: not trusting reality

DAY 6: forced to stay awake

DAY 7: alternate timeline self

DAY 8: bleeding out

DAY 9: necromancy

DAY 10: magic exhaustion

DAY 11: demonic possession

DAY 12: used as practice

DAY 13: “i don’t trust anyone else”

DAY 14: becoming the monster

DAY 15: icarus

DAY 16: eaten alive

DAY 17: power instability

DAY 18: living weapon

DAY 19: death wish

DAY 20: “i did good right?”

DAY 21: put on display

DAY 22: “grab the little one”

DAY 23: gunshot wound

DAY 24: forced to beg

DAY 25: bound and gagged

DAY 26: concealing an injury

DAY 27: post-victory collapse

DAY 28: recovery

ALTERNATE PROMPTS:

is there a specific day’s prompt you don’t want to fill? here are ten alternatives you can switch them out for!

ALT 1: major character death

ALT 2: blowtorch

ALT 3: pick who dies

ALT 4: body swap

ALT 5: die a hero

ALT 6: emergency surgery

ALT 7: body horror

ALT 8: on the run

ALT 9: in another life

ALT 10: feeding tube

RULES:

soft rules:

prompts should be answered in the form of whump

creators can produce any kind of media they want

you don't have to complete all the prompts to take part

you can use the prompts after the event ends

you can complete them in tandem with any other event

you can post to any platform you want, however this blog will only be sharing links and prompt fills posted to tumblr

if you want to be featured on the hall of fame, you must inform this blog by the 3rd of march that you have completed all of the days using the provided form

if you have questions, consult the faq before asking

hard rules:

to be a completionist, you must complete all 28 prompts, in order, in whatever medium you want, before the end of the event

(specifically for being featured on the blog)

when uploading febuwhump content to tumblr, please use the tags:

febuwhump (or febuwhump2025)

the relevant day's tag e.g. febuwhumpday1, febuwhumpday2...

nsfw (if relevant)

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[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

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[strialternatives]

bonus:

:inhales and slams hands on the desk: akechi. palace. pitch.

disclaimer: the setting for this is all about vibes and aesthetics, it kinda got away from me when i started hashing out the plot around it two months ago so now we're here. in hell. (i'll probably have to make a secondary post i made wayyy too many concepts,)

yes i made an ost for this idea, here is a youtube playlist of chill european jazz

AU details under the cut-

Akechi Goro's palace is "Ampitheatrum Doloris”.

KEYWORDS: Akechi Goro, Tokyo Highcourt, Amphitheater

Akechi's psyche is a massive collection of locked doors, puzzles, and contradictions. He wants to be seen but not understood—heard but never known, ect. This makes his palace infiltration a waking nightmare (affectionate).

His palace is made up of five main layers. They each mirror a stage of grief:

1) There is the outer layer of with the appearance of a Venice-esque water canal maze, there is a door that must be opened to reach the entrance to infiltrate the second layer underneath the amphitheater. The puzzle's actually pretty sentimental and revolves around Akechi's interest in literature.

(This layer is depression, Goro mourns what he lost and the fact that the choices he made for the sake of revenge ultimately led to nowhere. This is reflected in how desolate/meandering the outer layer feels, it is the largest and most time consuming part of the palace for this reason. It takes weeks to finish. AKA, Akira and Morgana have a terrible, no good, very bad month of May.) 

2) The Labyrinth under the amphitheater; it is full of shadows for the arena champion to use as fodder for the enjoyment of the masses. ‘Loki’ resides here—this layer’s theme loosely plays on the Minotaur myth. 

The only way to escape is through a pulley/elevator mechanism which leads to the surface after shattering the Champion’s chains by force. Loki taunts in Old Norse, but gives Akira (and the party by extension) genuine hints on how to escape.

(This layer is anger, Goro is always angry, about the hand he’s been dealt, the futility of his own actions, and the fact that his life has always been a dead end, written in the stars.)

3) The Audience Stands; full of human cognitions and Akechi’s former clients and fans, despite everything, like Sae, he sees them as ‘people’ and is disgusted by them. Their compliments are shallow and empty, surface level like Goro’s facade. Cognition Sae is delegated to a middle manager-type role, and leads Akira and Co. through puzzles.

Different cognitions from Akechi’s shitshow of a childhood throw riddles based around philosophy and the nature of justice at the party, if the answer is ‘wrong’, there’s a mini-boss fight. Answering everything correctly yields a prize—a key, this process is made difficult by all of Robin’s ‘hints’ (which the Thieves can directly ask for) being lies.

(Bargaining. Goro always thought he could still salvage his revenge despite his enemy being essentially invincible, even now deep down he thinks he can salvage all the effort and sacrifices he put in.)

4) The Stage; Robin Hood appears proper instead of in cameo appearances, this is the lead actor's stage. To earn the right to stand with him, Akira has to have to prove his worth in one-on-one combat while showing the crowd a rousing show. The goal is to use the key obtained in the bargaining layer to unlock the Performer's cuffs.

(Denial, Goro doesn’t believe he needs or deserves saving or a life outside of his revenge, he believes there is no other way forward.)

Hereward and the 'treasure' are in the Imperial box area, which I'll save for part 2 of this I think! The second half of this'll have less focus on the environments and more on general plot and character design.

EDIT: here's part two and part three