#tagging I GUess.
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I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You
Have a Bucky scene! This is supposed to be the b-side to whatever much more serious story I was writing in Sam's pov (link to that snippet). As I will probably never finish these please don't take them seriously <3
Also this isn't canon compliant but Marvel isn't real you know
~
Sometimes he thinks Sam is the only good thing about the future. Sometimes he thinks that Sam’s everything good about the future. If there’s a difference between those two thoughts, he doesn’t have any better words for it.
When he’d first met Sam—well, depending on your definition, they’ve had several first meetings. By one definition he’d either ripped his steering wheel out through his windshield, yanked him out of the sky, or tried to put him through a wall face first. Bucky doesn’t really remember those ones. He just has to go off of the (obviously exaggerated and totally unreliable) versions Sam recounts when he decides to seize the opportunity offered by the question ‘how did you two meet?’ and make Bucky squirm.
If Bucky doesn’t remember it, he thinks it doesn’t count. Maybe it’s the first time Sam met him, but the first time he met Sam was during the year Sam and Steve were chasing him.
A year of drawing smaller and smaller circles around them as they sighed and fought and slept and drove and kicked the frozen rocks in the Hindu Kush or the Smokey Mountains, squinting into the sun like it had any clues to give them, anything at all. The first time Bucky met Sam, it had been through a rifle scope.
He’d met him in the air. Watched him from a hundred paces upwind twisting against the blue, soaring, looping around the sun. Sam eating tacos in the passenger side of a jeep, laughing at Steve’s beet red face and playing it off like he wasn’t coughing on the spice himself. Teaching Steve to fist bump, complete with explosion noises. Rumpled and serious over stacks of files in a diner, too late or too early for company. Dark eyes tracking bullet paths from sniper rifles he didn’t place, cautious in the face of Steve’s leaping optimism, watchful where Steve throws a wave or salute, reserving judgment. Sam.
Sam says these don’t count. Meeting someone according to Sam, who is casting himself as an authority on the subject, involves walking up to them, introducing yourself, getting their name, and shaking hands. “Two people gotta be involved! The time you watched me choke on an m&m through my bedroom window and didn’t even intervene, ain’t meeting, Boo Radley. It’s called stalking, and I’m adding it to your rap sheet.” Sam marches over to the poster paper hanging off the bathroom door and scribbles on it.
Bucky follows him, glowering. “By that definition, I’ve never met anybody.”
“By that definition,” Sam mimics. “Man, don’t give me that poor-little-orphan-boy act. What, they didn’t have handshakes in the 30s? Didn’t have names? ‘Never met anybody,’ You’re so full of shit.”
“Never met anybody important,” Bucky concedes, for the sake of the brief moment where Sam blinks at him. Sincerity always catches him off guard. Bucky has to be careful not to overuse this tactic or risk diminishing returns, but it’s worth it for his startled, wide eyes, the barely noticeable hitch in his stream of words.
In that moment of silence he leans over Sam’s shoulder to read the additions to the list. Stalking, and Watched me coughing for a full minute and didn’t break in to give me the heimlich. “I thought you were for prison abolition.”
“I’m not asking for jail time, I’m asking for reparations. I coulda died, man!”
Bucky lets his face go dour and gloomy in response to the teasing, a look that never fails to increase Sam’s enjoyment of a situation.
“Look out, Eeyore,” he says gleefully. “Your face might stick that way.”
“Too late. It froze like this in cryo.”
Sam’s delighted cackle is loud enough to attract Natalia’s attention, and Bucky carefully suppresses his reaction—his face might look blank and intimidating to others, but Tasha can pick out a mockable emotion at a hundred paces.
Her attention is enough to distract Sam, rerouting him into the kitchen where he starts fussing with the coffee pot. Bucky trails after him to hover silently in the doorway like an Eeyore balloon at the Thanksgiving Day Parade, avoiding eye contact with Natalia. She thinks she’s so fucking funny.
Good things about the future: Drunken noodles from Royal Siam with fresh basil and lime, extra spicy the way Sam orders it on movie nights. Losing at spades to Sarah and Cousin Jay, Sam blaming him for their downfall every hand of the game. Cass facetiming him from the kitchen table in Delacroix, history homework all spread out in front of him, both of them ignoring Sam shouting, ‘amnesiac, A-M-N-Something-S-iac, definition ‘he don’t know shit,’ you’re better off trying wikipedia,” from the couch.
“Man, just ask me.” Sam doesn’t bother turning around, but his amusement is palpable in the set of his shoulders, the back of his neck.
He sighs. “Who’s Bo Rad Lee”
The crinkle at the corners of Sam’s eyes, when he wears his smug stupid face. That’s a good thing about the future.
~
#here's to 10 years of HIM!#i need a writing tag if im gonna be posting shit but as yet i remain. uninspired <3#tagging I GUess.#marvel#bucky barnes#sam wilson#sambucky#ok now that i've posted something and got it off my chest lets all go back to pretending marvel and i have never met <3 thanks <3
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Story of my life
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GIRLY JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT CYERCE ELEGANS
If Cyerce nigricans is a butterfly, then this is a fairy... Cyerce nigricans for comparison:
#sea slug#ok i have to go make food#hello my 11k notes. may i offer you: sun fnaf#alright this has 15k notes now. i guess i'll add tags#marine biology#nature#ocean#sea slugs#marine life#animals#sacoglossans#sacoglossan
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a real blorbo is someone you can both write a lengthy and serious/sad analysis on yet also constantly and i mean constantly make stupid jokes about
#peach rambles#hall of fame i guess#this post was about volo pokémon. among others#i have seen almost every fandom i’ve ever even heard of tagged here. good for y’all ig
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@staff @support @engineering @music @books
Have you ever considered this is a really stupid layout to have when there’s no way to easily get your account back if you accidentally hit the wrong button???
#med mumbles#im mad actually what kind of UI is this#top post#I guess 😭😭💀💀💀#edit: @ing staff doesn’t actually do that much so try filling out a quick feedback form on their site#also#it doesn’t *ALWAYS* ask you for your password#yes it does in some cases but there are situations where if you link it to your email it doesn’t ask!!!#look through the tags and see how many people have accidentally deleted their blogs before you decide to be a smartass
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this is the chilchuck situation . to me
(a reference to twelfth night (2009) ft anne hathaway)
#[visibly shaking] Is This Anything ?#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#chilchuck tims#senshi#chilchuck's wife#dear lord it is embarrassing to be forced to use that tag. please ryoko kui a name#chilshi#chilchuck sandwich#I GUESS????????#this has been the worst tagging experience of my life.#fanart
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Today in vc we discussed the concept of a gmod funeral so I drew my interpretation.
#art talks about stuff#unlabelled drawing tag#the name of this piece is ''gm_funeral'' if you wanted to know#i was going to add more colour/detail but i like the minimalism here#and i'm lazy#id in alt text#garry's mod#gmod#<- this has like 10k notes it's time i main tag it i guess
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Drew a tweet
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I spent like three hours making this
#I am NOT tagging all of these#but I’ll try I guess#destiel#ineffable husbands#pearlina#sasunaru#homumado#sonadow#is that rigth#I bet the ace attorney guys have a insane ship name#lawlight#shuake#<- I’m just googling them now#soriel#frowise#???????#sidlink#taakitz#bubbline#vrisrezi#hannigram#qcard#komahina#bowuigi#royai#batjokes#cuttletavio#hardenshipping#okay I’m done
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wheres that tumblr post abt adults absolutely doing this on purpose
#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#chilchuk tims#mayjack tims#flertom tims#puckpatti tims#UH remember reading about half-foots naming conventions being that chilchuks daughters would be like mayjack chils? or smthng#but thats the tag that came up i guess#meijack tims#meijack chils#WAIT THERE IT IS
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For any followers of mine still living with parents, guardians, family, or even just with roommates and who've never lived alone and/or fully on your own terms (whether ye be 16 or 60), I have TWO pieces of wisdom for you for when you eventually do:
You WILL discover that you were wrong about some shit you felt pretty strongly about before. Maybe you never realized how often your mom ACTUALLY cleans the bathroom and it turns out she asked for help really rarely. Maybe, much as it grates to admit, putting $50 into a different savings account every paycheck really IS the ONLY way to save any fucking money. Maybe that big rolling trashcan you resented your roommate putting in the kitchen, and got in that big fight about, really WAS super convenient and now you have to buy one for yourself after they move out and take it with them. Maybe blanching vegetables so they retain their color when cooked actually DOES enhance a meal, pretty food slaps actually, and the reason you didn't think it was worth the effort is because you were depressed.
You WILL also discover new shit that works SO much better for you than everything you'd been taught. Maybe you'll discover that dropping trash off at a recycling center at your convenience works way better for your brain than getting it picked up on a set day. Maybe you'll realize you don't actually hate tofu, you just hate how your family cooks tofu. Maybe you'll love being able to walk around the house naked whenever you want. Maybe you'll find you thrive in a space with giant framed nude photography, or taxidermy animals, or fandom themed Everything. Maybe you'll realize that keeping the thermostat set like 5 degrees colder (or hotter) than is typical makes you sleep better than you ever have before in your whole life.
The point of this wisdom is: Stay humble, but also, stay excited. There's no point pretending you weren't wrong about shit you were wrong about, just eat the crow and move on. But also, there's so much to look forward to about your own space-- even more than you could ever imagine when you don't have it yet.
#my posts#my thoughts#idk what to tag this#adulting#i guess#hope#?#most of these aren't me specific but the recycling center and blanching food definitely are
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Many years ago, I was wandering around downtown Ottawa with my best friend. We ran into a friend of his who offered us some hash (it sucked), then said there was a really good house party nearby if we wanted to go. We were like, yeah, sure. So that's how we ended up at some completely fucking random person's house.
I look around to ask if my friend knows anyone here and he's simply gone, as is his friend. And this isn't some red solo cup hangout; this is a party. There's people counting out pills on the kitchen counter. I am clearly neither as cool nor as drug-savvy as the kitchen people, so I back away and instead wander aimlessly into the living room, which seems to give off more of a chill vibe.
A bunch of people are seated in a circle on the floor. One of them is fiddling with a big wad of newspaper or something. A really cute grunge girl with piercings and tattoos scoots aside to make room for me, so I sit down.
"What's that," I ask her, gesturing at the newspaper wad.
She gets a really big smile on her face. You know the smile. It's the I'm About To Watch This Innocent Soul Get High As Fuck smile. "You've never smoked a tulip?"
"What's a tulip?" I ask.
"It's like if a joint was also a bong," she replies. "You gotta try it."
"Alright," I reply, a little uncertainly. This will not be my first encounter with weed. I am more comfortable with the janky newspaper bong than I am with whatever the fuck is going on in the kitchen. Besides, this girl is really cute and I would like to have a friend here now that my existing friend has turned into vapor or been transported to the Upside-Down or whatever the hell happened to him.
I watch as one person holds the newspaper joint-bong upright and holds a lighter over the top while another gets beneath it, tilting their head back to take a puff. Apparently smoking this Cheech & Chong monstrosity is a two-person job.
"Oh," I say, looking at the fist-sized knob at the top of the wonky newspaper joint. "Yeah, it does kinda look like a tulip." Grunge girl smiles at me.
I watch as the tulip is passed around the circle, along with the lighter, and hits are cooperatively taken. It reaches grunge girl, who takes a huge puff and holds it for an extended moment before exhaling an impressive blast of smoke. She smiles expectantly and holds the tulip up for me, preparing to spark the gigantic meteor of dank that makes up its tip. By this point I have completely forgotten about my missing friend. I only care about making a good impression on grunge girl. I tilt my head back and hit the tulip like a smokestack.
It is the following morning. I am sleeping between a couch and a wall. I'm not positive that this is the same house I was just in. My memories are gone. Someone is yelling at me: "dude! Dude! Wake up, dude!"
I sit up. My mouth tastes like cigarettes. I do not smoke cigarettes. "Wha," I ask the yelling man, who I am quite confident I have never met before in my life.
"We're going on a quest," he tells me, gravely. "You have to come with us."
I look around. Neither my friend nor his friend are anywhere in sight. I also do not see grunge girl anywhere. I shrug helplessly. "Okay."
We embark from this house. I learn that the destination of this quest is Tim Horton's. This is a relief to me, as coffee and a donut sounds really fucking good right now. Somehow, the route to Tim Horton's takes us past the Governor-General's residence, which everyone else in the group loudly heckles on the way past. I do not know what the Governor-General has done to raise their ire, nor do I particularly care. I trudge along with my hands in my pockets, pleased to note that I still have my wallet, phone, and keys. I fervently wish that I could remember anything about last night. Maybe I talked to grunge girl. Maybe she's why my mouth tastes like cigarettes. The tulip tasted nothing like cigarettes.
I am asked about my politics. I voice my frustrations with corporate corruption, the pay-to-win electoral system, the lack of transparency and accountability. This is met with great approval. The guy who was yelling at me claps me on the back. I get the impression that we became friends last night. I don't recognize his face. I do not know his name and he definitely does not know mine. I behave as though we're friends anyway. We are comrades on a quest.
By the time we make it to Tim Hortons, the gaggle of stoners I'm walking with have all run out of energy and/or attention span. People order snacks and break away in pairs or solo, to call for rides or plan the day's events or just vegetate and wait for the drugs to leave their systems. I look around and find that my nameless friend has also gone to the Upside-Down. As I wash the cigarette taste out of my mouth with coffee, I unsuccessfully try to remember whether I saw grunge girl smoking tobacco at any point. I remember nothing. That tulip was so fucking powerful that it instantly sent me a whole day forward in time.
Alone in the city, I try to call my best friend and get no answer. I walk to the nearest bus stop, catch a bus most of the way home, and call up my parents to ask for a ride back. They ask where my friend is. I tell them that I have no idea; we went to a house party and I don't remember anything else.
When they pick me up from the bus station, they ask me some very safe, nonspecific questions, and seem to relax when I describe what little I can remember. It isn't until years later that I realize they were probably terrified I'd gotten rufied or something, and were so relieved to learn otherwise that they didn't even bother chiding me for smoking myself unconscious in an effort to impress a strange woman. In any case, they were probably happy to find out that I did, in fact, like girls; I suspect they had been privately wondering whether I was gay.
After getting home, I finally manage to get my best friend to answer his phone. I discover that he tried the kitchen pills, spent most of the night crossing the entire city on foot, and crashed at his cousin's house. He sounds like shit. I tell him that he should have tried the tulip, instead. He fervently agrees with me.
I never see grunge girl again.
That's okay, though. She got to see a clueless stranger get fucked the entire way up on some ungodly strain of giga-weed, and I got smiled at by a cute girl, and then I got to go on a quest. Wherever grunge girl is, I hope she's happy. I hope she's smoking the fattest fucking blunt and smiling as some kid passes out behind a couch.
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average day of an ethogirl
#based on true events actually#hearing an oh snappers gives me a mental fortitude buff#hermitcraft#hermitblr#ethoslab#etho#my art#???? i guess this is art#daily etho#i guess i can tag that too
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Got tired of seeing moeblob young catgirls. Give me butch and GNC catladies in their 40s and 50s (more will be drawn)
#please dont be facking weird about them having facial hair theyre all butch and women of varied flavors!!!!!!!!!!!#more to come btw :3#duck.png#uhhhh#catgirls#idk how to tag this#gijinka#i guess#too late now to really make it important to people but#these are all supposed to be lesbians#edit: disabled reblogs for my own mental health lol
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who's coming to the saw patrol double feature /j
[ID: An article headline from the website Den of Geek reading "Forget Barbenheimer and Get Ready for Saw Patrol. Saw X and Paw Patrol: The Mighty Movie are now set to be released on the same day." End ID.]
#saw#sawposting#sawblr#saw 2004#saw movies#saw franchise#adam faulkner#adam faulkner stanheight#adam stanheight#dr lawrence gordon#lawrence gordon#john kramer#paw patrol#guess I should tag that too#saw patrol#animal abuse tw
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feel free to elaborate in tags of course on how easy or hard cosplaying them would be
bonus question: how much do you WANT to look like your icon. like are they the goal you aspire to
#peach rambles#if i see anyone vote the first option i’m shooting them be warned#hall of fame i guess#<- not often that i get to add that tag a matter of mere hours after posting something#tbh i confess i didn’t structure these options well. i could not have imagined the wide variety of responses i’d get#my bad
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