#Thread: Abed Nadir

[doppel-dean-er]

the definitive answer on who Abed thinks is the best batman

#for context in the 60s the catholic church REALLY hated how humongous burt ward's schlong was in his little robin tightie whities #so they tried to get rid of his fucking balls. you know instead of giving him PANTS #“but the source material and the and the aerodynamics :(” #the boy was a gymnast and scales walls with literal thread he can do a backflip in some damn cargo shorts #nbc community #community nbc #community #abed nadir #batman #doodle

[the-muses-rule-here]

//  So i'm cleaning up which muses i use.  ATM only a few of them are up as I'm retweaking the muses/bios pages. I thought i'd let you know whos being put in request and who is staying If you have threads with any of these characters i'm keeping those going. The list of which muses are staying or by request is below the cut

By request Community troy barnes britta perry annie edision Shirley bennett Supernatural Sam winchester Castiel 21 jump street Adam Fuller Psych Pierre Desperaux The nanny fran fine BTVS Xander harris Muses staying Community  Jeff winger Craig pelton Abed nadir Supernatural Gaberiel Dean winchester Garth fithgeral the 3rd Mash Hawkeye Radar BJ Red dwarf Arnold rimmer Dave lister 21 jump street Doug Penhall Dennis booker Tom Hanson Scrubs Perry Cox JD House md Greg House James Wilson Juan "Alvie" Alvarez Psych Carlton Lassiter Shawn spencer Boy meets world Sean hunter Croy mattews Eric mattews BTVS Spike OZ Taking over the asylum Campbell Bain Cobra kai Daniel larusso Johnny lawrence Amanda larusso Scream Dwlight "dewy" Riley Randy Meeks Billy Loomis Stu Macher AHS James patrick march Prodigal Son Malcom bright Martin Whitly So  they'll all be available but some you'll have to request as i don't use them as much.

#ooc

[microsuedemouse]

I was tagged by @mana-sputachu in a lil one-word OTP game! the thread had gotten quite long so I’m starting a fresh post but you can find the original here

the rules: list your top 10 favourite ships, any and all fandoms included, with one word to describe what you love about them

it is very very hard to pick just ten??? and then just one word to describe each??? also I’m limiting myself to one ship per fandom bc otherwise I could do a whole list just from one source (cough Soul Eater cough MHA cough cough). but okay here goes, in no particular order:

Annie Edison and Abed Nadir (Community) - weirdos

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye (Fullmetal Alchemist) - devotion

Gaby Teller and Illya Kuryakin (The Man from UNCLE, 2015, and no we’re not gonna talk about A Certain Actor) - intensity

Tenya Iida and Momo Yaoyorozu (My Hero Academia) - support

Maka Albarn and Soul Evans (Soul Eater) - trust

Pazu and Sheeta (Castle in the Sky) - kindness

Reki Kyan and Langa Hasegawa (Sk8 the Infinity) - friendship

Katara and Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender) - counterparts

Minette and Fabio (Island of the Aunts, by Eva Ibbotson) - belonging

Mike Chilton and Julie Kane (Motorcity) - understanding

okay. that was very difficult. now who is there to tag. hm. @izupie @silluuuu @suzirya @womanaction @karis-the-fangirl perhaps?

#survey #y’all I have. so very many ships. #had to stick some more obscure ones in there too. just for variation. #I mean mainly that’s Minette and Fabio. despite Ibbotson’s success idk anyone who knows that book #but STILL.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

10 characters 10 fandoms 10 tags

i was tagged by the wonderful @englishbunnyrocks, with whom i share a few favorites. 10/10 good taste, babe.

rose tyler / bella swan / jess mariano / peeta mellark / elizabeth bennet / damon salvatore / malcolm tucker / sybil crawley / mabel mora / abed nadir

feel like there are some common threads here (bastard man/protect at all costs) but i simply will not examine those too closely.

tagging: @darth-tella, @paigenotblank, @kelkat9, @saecookie, and @sunniebelle, because half of ten is about the best i can do at five a.m. no pressure, anyone!

#damon making the list because he's simply the worst man ever but he's also <3 MY worst man ever #though malcolm is a close runner up!!! #one thing about me is that i apparently like brunettes with issues. #abbey.txt #tag game

[ofloremastery]

// Semi-Plotted starter for @proditeur from Abed Nadir

The Dean Pelton had already come by and explained the whole situation to Abed and it made sense to the young student. Over-crowding meant more students in more dorms and Abed supposed he could deal with that sort of change. After all, he was due for that sort of development now that they had moved on to season two. Hell, maybe Regulus would be his and Troy’s new Hermione Granger.

When Abed had returned to his dorm that night, the black haired boy had already been sleeping in the bunk below his and still was snoring the next morning. “Hey you’ve got to get up,” he called out sharply, his head leaning over the bunk bed. He stepped down the ladder slowly revealing his Star War Pajama bottoms and matching shirt. “Look, I’m sure you’re going to be confused when you wake up but please don’t hit me,” he rambled. “We’ve got Spanish in 30 minutes and Señor Chang doesn’t put up with tardiness.”

#proditeur #proditeur - Abed Nadir & Regulus Black 05|01 #Thread: Abed Nadir #Abed Nadir: Verse: ‘Harry Potter; ‘Voldemort is my past present and fiction.’

[infractedink]

Blog Things Abed Nadir

#Reflection: Abed Nadir #Thread: Abed Nadir #Inbox: Abed Nadir #About/Musings: Abed Nadir #General: Abed Nadir #Aesthetic: Abed Nadir #Starter/Plotting Call: Abed Nadir #Save/Crack: Abed Nadir #Headcanon: Abed Nadir

[turnedfolklore]

“ 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 / 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 --- but I’m concerned now that we’re about to take a very dark turn into friday the 13th. ”  abed voiced in a hushed voice, a note of concern colouring his voice as he crouched next to jeff in the tent. listening to the strange noises from outside. “ if it goes that way, i don’t like either of our chances. we’re both classic slasher film fodder. me, the voice of reason nobody listens to until it’s too late, and you the stock romancing chad stereotype that dies as a result of sexual activity. ”

abed nadir to jeff winger / @paintedlies​

#𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 / abed nadir. #𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 / community. #𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 / threads. #paintedlies #𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 / paintedlies. #paintedlies / jeff winger.

[rhinozilla]

Life is stressing me out, so I’m escaping into my own fanfiction series, and now you all must suffer for it. Here are some Detroit 07 bits that never made it past the drawing board and some little behind-the-scenes things that I did write in.

At one point on the drawing board, RK900 was going to be designed with the ability to reverse deviancy. He would have essentially deleted the deviancy code from the android and remove their ‘personality/soul’ that they had formed. By the time this became plot-relevant, however, he himself would have destabilized to the point that he wasn’t outright deleting their personalities but would instead save them by uploading them to the Zen Garden that he had access to, to hide them from Ogden. This was originally what was going to happen to Julia and then Connor, rather than them getting shot with the power-neutralizing bullets.

Similarly, Ogden was originally going to have more gadgets as a side hustle to her Ghost drug rings. I still have them listed on my computer. Some new villain may get them later, who knows? Also, I was determined to make sure Ogden did not turn into a ‘sexy’ female villain. It took a weirdly conscious effort to resist the urge to do so, because that’s the majority of what female villains get backed into.

There is a version of the story where Ogden survived Camaraderie and is in prison. But I didn’t want to get bound to that lingering thread in future stories.

Before Bonny Stevens became Connor’s pen pal, it was going to be Emma Philips, and “Pen Pal Season” was going to be more dramatic. But I liked Bonny so much in the “Bubbles” story that I swapped her in there instead.

Similarly, I tampered with the idea of Bonny being either a classmate of Emma’s or Cole’s. But I didn’t want to tie her character to them.

Julia’s original design included very colorful fashion ideas. Like, solid bright colors that didn’t really match very well, as she explored the ability to choose her own clothes. Specifically, she would wear a lot of colorful open-toe shoes and flip flops, to show off her colorful nail polish. Like, you could HEAR her flip flop shoes flapping away when she stomped around. That actually lasted so long on the drawing board that my boyfriend still refers to her as “Flip Flops” sometimes.

There was a version of the plot that I entertained where Connor chooses to become a Stevens instead of an Anderson. Like, full on moves in with them and lives with them from then on out.

Before my version of RK900 appeared on the scene as Coda, I had the name “Isaac” picked out for him. 

I had more subplots around the idea of Connor dating Grace, but the way the rest of the story was moving meant those ideas wouldn’t have fit in.

Penelope Nichols was named purely to make the pun “Penny Nichols.” I did this before fully realizing that she was going to be a permanent character.

Speaking of name puns. There are three firefighter android OCs that have appeared in D07: Ember, Ashley, and Cindy, because I think I’m hilarious.

Yes, I have named all 60 of the RK800s with unique C-names.

Coda has a trauma-born fear of heat/fire like Connor has a trauma-born fear of cold/snow.

Ogden was named after a street sign that I passed on a road trip when I was brainstorming for this series.

I straight up forgot about canon police character Robert Lewis for a while. Now I really like the idea of him having Abed Nadir-levels of awareness that he’s in a fanfiction, leading to him only having funny little cameos to make up for it.

Connor and Julia, once I got on board with writing them as an endgame ship, were going to have a longer courtship of “will they, won’t they” where they were both awkwardly flirty and aware of each other’s feelings but unsure how to start anything. Because they’re both hopeless potatoes. But I like the more natural flow of them getting together better.

I am almost certain that at least once in a story, Bert has had a last name. But I did not keep track of it, I cannot find it, and I am scared to try and give him a new one and open up a continuity error. So he’s just Bert.

It occurs to me now that ‘Person’ may have been intended to be pronounced like “Pierson,” a more common last name. But that spelling choice is phonetically ridiculous, so I pronounce it like “person, place, thing.” Plus that’s more hilarious considering how private and walled off she used to be. Who is she? A person...maybe an eldritch being...Who knows?

Most writers that I’ve come across explain Gavin’s canon assholery by way of a bad childhood, trauma, mental illness, etc. And those are all valid; however, the idea that he’s “just like that” is funny to me. And originally, Camaraderie was supposed to just be a bunch of unconnected, funny nonsense oneshots.

Each of the 07 androids has an origin story as to how they chose/were assigned their names: Julia, Polly, Gwen, Zeke, Apollo. I’ve started to write those stories a few times, but I wasn’t sure anybody would care to read them.

Sumo is an immortal dog. There is zero chance that I will ever write a ‘Sumo gets old/sick/dies’ segment of this series. I don’t want to. So he gets to live forever, and we’re not going to question it.

#Detroit 07 #the extras that no one asked for

[greenandhazy]

In retrospect, I should have pushed harder on this fic so it was ready for Father’s Day (Fathers’ Day?), but it didn’t occur to me so it’s nowhere close for that. buuuuut have an excerpt of the next installment in An Exploration of the Nadir-Barnes Canon:

“Abed. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“No.”

His father sighed.

“Of course you don’t,” he grumbled. “You’ve always been terrible with time zones. I had to crush a Xanax in your Yoo-Hoo to get you on the plane when we went to see Grandpa in Gaza. I’m in Detroit for Auntie Zaineb’s birthday--it’s after midnight here.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’ll live. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you mean that?”

Abed picked at a loose thread on the couch.

“I think so. It’s not easy, but I think it’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“I told you, it’s fine. I went to bed late, anyway. You know your uncle, he drinks coffee after dinner and he doesn’t shut up.”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t make it easier for you when I was a kid. I guess I always thought that kids more or less raised themselves, aside from the occasional motivational speech, because that’s what happens in most TV shows. Even the Rugrats were able to have lots of adventures without adult help or supervision, and they were just babies. But that’s not true. Parenting takes a lot more work than people think, and it’s really hard to know if you’re doing the right thing when you don’t understand your kid and when he won’t even talk to you about it. I can’t imagine doing this alone.”

His father was quiet for a minute. Abed heard the creak of bedsprings and the distant sound of an ambulance siren.

“You don’t have to apologize, habibi,” his father said quietly. “You were a good boy. I worried about you, but every parent worries. You gave me less to worry about than others. And let me tell you something--all you have to do is keep them fed and housed and safe, and make sure they’re prepared to leave you. That’s what parenting is. Okay? Don’t spend too much time worrying about if your children like you. No one ever likes their parents all the time. That’s the problem with Americans; they want to best friends with their children, and when it doesn’t work, it hurts their feelings and they forget their real job. Just, be there for them and don’t give up.”

Abed folded in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest--his heart felt like it was swelling, like in the original The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and it was going to start cracking things if he wasn’t careful. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded before remembering that his dad couldn’t see him through the phone.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome.” There was a pause. “You’ll do a good job. You’re nicer than I am.”

“I guess. And I’ve got Troy, so.” He swallowed again. “You’re coming for Thanksgiving, right?”

“Yes. Who else will be there?”

“Just our friends from college. Troy’s mom is going to be at his aunt’s house, so she’s coming over the weekend instead, and his dad can’t come because Nana Barnes doesn’t fly. Mom couldn’t make it.”

“Just me and your weird codependent friends. Great.”

“And your grandsons.”

“Right.” His voice softened. “Sounds great.”

“Okay, text me when your plane lands. Tusbah ala khair, Baba.”

“Tusbah ala khair, Abed.”

(now posted, in a fun new format)

#community #abed nadir #gobi nadir #trobed

[ionlycareaboutyou]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Community (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir Characters: Troy Barnes, Abed Nadir, The Study Group (mentioned) Additional Tags: Reunions, Post-Season/Series Finale, Light Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dialogue Heavy, My First Work in This Fandom, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Sappy Summary:

When Troy and Abed meet again, Abed is quiet.

#my writing #trobed #otp #i'm nervous that this isn't very good... #but it's my first trobed fic #and i hope other people like it! #thank u to my gf for beta'ing

[thekidkelly]

get to know me fic edition

tagged by @slutabed and @idontmakeitintosundance

name: ac

fandoms: community (technically i have one marvel fic but i abandoned it a long time ago)

where do you post your fanfiction? ao3

by kudos most popular one-shot: explorations in communication (85 kudos)

by kudos most popular multichapter: love me softly (252 kudos)

personal favorite: been dreaming of you is holding a special place in my heart since i got extra attached to it while writing it

method for titling fics: i only have five fics up for community but i generally try to title anything off of a song lyric that i think fits the mood of the fic (my oneshots though don’t follow that pattern)

work I am nervous about posting: honestly the one i’m writing currently (midnight blues) only because i’m pulling a lot of it from some personal experiences and it can be kind of heavy, but it’s the kind of nervous that i’m also sort of excited about? it’s like a 60% nervous/40% excited type of energy. 

do you outline your works or just wing it? i write all of my stuff chapter by chapter. i find that if i outline it a put a lot more pressure on myself, so i write what comes to me and what feels right in the moment. 

are you excited about any of your upcoming works? like i said before i’m both nervous and excited for my current fic. it’s me going to a place i haven’t been yet for writing, but it’s going to be an interesting experience for me i think

AO3 statistics (i’m nervous ab posting these for no reason i’m still relatively new to writing for the fandom and don’t have a lot out yet)

works: 5 (technically 6 if you count my unfinished marvel fic but i’m thinking ab dropping it completely)

user subscriptions: 9 

kudos: 716 

comment threads: 154 

bookmarks: 146 

subscriptions: 118 

word count:  103056 

hits:  9453

tagging: @nadir-barnes @theimprobable1 @luckycharmsandtv @butterednoodlesjules @softdavidrose and anyone else who wants to do it

#tag game

[evanstarff]

Long Black [6]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,240

Summary: The mission goes the opposite direction of well and Bucky Barnes emotes over the fallout – amongst other things.

Warnings: Still with the swearing, residual angst, professional relationships being heaps profesh, so much pining, is this the kissing part?

A/N: In the immortal words of Abed Nadir – “It's a bottle episode!” Thank you for sticking around amidst last week’s cliffhanger! This series is for the @ruckystarnes​ 2K Writing Challenge and my prompt was in the previous chapter – thank you for the privilege of taking part, love!

Long Black Masterlist // Full Masterlist 🖤

---------

Previously...

He was so exquisite, incandescent, and he was looking at you – looking at you with a strange, kind of faraway look in his eyes, so blue, so big, and that was all you managed to fit together before time seemed to dilute into stars and then it all got dark.

---

Light had a funny way of marking time.

There was a sequence, all bright and glaring, this hum of a sound, then a lot of sounds and then some smashed together soup of words and shouting, followed by more noise. Each one a bright spark in the brain, prickling behind eyes – of course, opening them would be too easy, so screaming seemed the most appropriate thing to do.

“Two seconds, I just need two goddamn seconds!”

“Don't fuck with me, alright?”

A grunt laced in amusement. “Look, you wanna Swiss Army knife that or shall I do the honours?”

“Probably do it myself if you two would give me a moment’s peace.”

Was that your voice threatening to suture your own wounds?

Blue eyes shot straight to you, concern, relief, and some odd, new kind of affection in the fragments of grey, and then time went all a little bit funny again.

---

“Hey, hey, darlin’ – darlin’, stay, you–” Those hands again, skin, silver, on your neck, your face, and when did you get so warm?

You were coughing, mouth dry, stale, suddenly working, all feeling coming fast, stark through limbs, skin, muscle, and an ache in your side stabbing its own symphony straight into your nervous centre.

Oh right, that.

“What year is it?” you managed, warm again, nestling in the sheets as gravel crunched in a memory then slipped a little sideways, a faraway shouting echoing in the dark as you breathed into sleep.

---

It’d taken over forty-eight hours of waiting and another forty-odd light years of two tired men driving each other up the goddamn wall when your eyes finally opened.

“Wilson, I swear to fucking god–”

Bucky. All anger and irritation. Bucky, black jeans, all black everything, blacker still in frustration fresh through his face, blue eyes furious and pacing. “If Steve isn’t on the next jet here, I will–”

“Hey man, I ain’t his babysitter,” Sam’s voice, rich with nonchalance, his easy, steady form folded in the nearby armchair.

“Son of a bitch needs one, that’s for sure,” Bucky replied, eyes drifting to you, then rushing to you, concern all washed anew.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said. Then he laughed, full and nervous relief, and so sweet in your ears, then his hands were on you now. Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you, your arms, your hands, fingers threading fingers, then on your cheeks through some kind of compulsion, checking, wondering, wandering, and perhaps fear that if he stopped, you might disappear beneath them, disintegrate.

“How long have I been out?” followed by “What the hell happened?”

“You, him, chasing after bad guys – mostly you keeping him out of trouble,” Sam listed, a shrug evident in his body, face half a grin. “Got a bad shot, internal bleeding followed by a little Wakandan magic, and naps for days.”

“Oh good, so the usual then?” you replied, noting the IV drip in your arm. “Sounds like a trip.”

Bucky again, his eyes so blue on yours, fixated on your cheek, trying to keep his hands from caressing your skin. “Yeah, you had us scared there for a second.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, boy,” and Bucky made a sound that had you quirking an eyebrow before returning his gaze back to you, fingers scratching his chin, watching   your face. There was some kind of pressure in your side, warm and damp, a strange kind of throbbing, then a shock of realisation painted fright through your face.

You sat up like lightning, ignoring the pain. “Fuck a duck – did he get away?”

“Darlin’,” That word in that mouth again, on his lips, full and tempered, mirth lining the edges. “It's alright, we'll take care of it.”

“So he's gone.”

“He hasn't gone far,” Sam's voice and you recognised those gleeful brown eyes anywhere. He was watching you, gaze flitting between you and Bucky, mouth tilted in amusement. “They took him in a few hours ago.”

You winced again, a stinging kind of ache now that had you almost throwing up despite your determination to get the words out. A pause, then confusion pressed through your mouth. “Who’s they? And why aren’t you with them?”

Bucky glanced away from your curious eyes, from your pretty face, almost pretending, then realised the weight of your hands in his own and let go, his fingers tingling from sheer awareness.

“Someone has to keep you out of trouble,” he replied, ignoring the other part of your question, nonchalance and nerves battling as one.

You scoffed, brain going a little funny, and maybe it was a good idea to lie back down, your eyes surveying the space.

High ceilings reached upwards, making the humble space bigger than it really was. Windows, grand and simple all at once, the space a perfect blend of white and wood, greenery, mostly succulents, sometimes ferns adorned the window on the far side. The view of the ocean, lush with guava tones over a shimmering sea. Further on, past the door, some kind of a living room and what you assumed was a kitchen ensemble of some kind. Perhaps the bathroom was there, somewhere in that particular area where bathrooms go, you assumed. Things looked funny from this side of the bed – whoever’s bed this was, whoever’s apartment and intrusion of sheets and sleep this seemed to be.

Realisation snapped in your brain – this wasn’t the apartment.

“Where are we?” you asked.

“Safe house,” Bucky replied getting up and figured standing awkwardly was a good way to go. “Sam called in a favour.”

“Yeah, had some contacts from the force in Sydney,” he shrugged, toothy grin bright through his handsome face. “Needed a holiday, so here we are.”

“I see,” you replied slowly, sifting the pieces around in your head, only to find more questions. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Oh, I tell you enough,” Sam replied.

“Now you’re starting to sound like Steve,” you said.

“Apparently I do what he does, just slower,” he replied, face full of glee.

“You know how I like it slow, Sammy,” you teased, ready to bargain for a sliver of intel, and Sam laughed, full and hearty.

“Okay, are we done?” Bucky cut in, tummy twisting with… jealousy? Annoyance? Something he wasn’t quite ready to swallow yet. “Someone needs to rest, yeah?”

Sam considered him, studied him, seeing him keep his attention on you, hands of skin and metal stuffed into the pockets of his jeans by way of something to do with them – jeans, entire outfit he hadn’t taken off in all of two days in between speed-showers in the small and tidy bathroom, those blue-grey eyes always on you, drifting in and out of consciousness in a bed of borrowed blessings.

“Sure,” Sam replied at last, standing up to leave. He looked at Bucky. “I have some things to sort out.”

“What things?” You again with the questions.

Sam only smiled. “Things to do, people to see – I’ll be in touch in a few hours, yeah?”

“Hey, wait, where are you going?” you called out, half-considering following him, legs already turned to leave, and wincing.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky again with all those soft, sweet tones of concern. It was infuriating if not for the funny, warm kind of spin in your stomach. “You need to stay.”

“But–”

“Stay,” he pressed on, hand on your own again and your face grew hot as you met his gaze. “Please?”

You sighed. “Fine.”

Bucky squeezed your hand in thanks, affection, something more, warm in his palm, and then a be right back, okay? before he followed Sam’s trailing form.

You watched them disappear into the living area, speaking in hushed tones, some angry, some amused, and all rapid-fire words. You were straining to hear them before the eventual click of a closing door and it was now you decided you could probably nap for a year. The sheer exhaustion of being awake for a grand twenty minutes had taken its toll in ways you hadn’t expected.

Bucky locked the front door and began his rounds. He’d been at the safehouse barely two days and already mapped out all its weak points, securing them in the little corner of his mind for consideration when he next saw Sam. Most of the entry points had been reinforced through some manner of bargaining and very important games of Boggle between them, the board found in the bottom shelf of the living room in the first hour when they’d arrived. 

Windows, secured, curtains half-drawn. Stack of books on the coffee table, couch cushions, three too few, but whatever – safehouses didn’t have quotas on cushions. Kitchen was well-stocked with the essentials, pantry stocked the same – Vegemite, coffee, a simple grinder, coffee maker, and a tin of condensed milk that you’d taught him how to use for magic, so to speak.

Bathroom, small and unassuming, ventilation a potential soft point, but nothing that couldn’t buy you both time should the occasion arise.

Bedroom. Windows secured, fresh sheets in the cupboard, towels alongside. Supplies and baggage also safe here; Sam had swept the apartment the day before on Bucky’s strict instructions. Two guns, three knives, cartridges to match. Clothing in neat piles, clean and halved, two beside each other – yours. His.

Bucky exhaled, pulling the armchair closer to the bed, watching the light of the setting sun paint light about your pretty face. You were half-asleep, resting your eyes probably, and breathing steadily through the passing moments.

“So, what now?” you spoke softly, eyes opened now. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“As long as you need.”

“And what if I say no?” your eyes narrowed to his own and he only smiled.

“Try getting past me, then we’ll talk.”

You snorted weakly, sleep coming cloudy around the edges. “And what happens to this arrangement…” you trailed off, nodding lazily in his direction, pressing your cheek into the soft pillow and god, it was so nice and comfortable.

Bucky stood up, watching sleep taking you quickly and listened as your breathing steadied. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, just because he wanted to, just because it felt right.

“We can talk about it later, darlin’,” he whispered, settling back into the armchair and watched your face go all peaceful and sweet.

---

Sleep came in waves as the ocean kissed the shores.

Too hot, too sore, white fire through the skin and muscle where strange parts, bits seemed to push and pull. It took a while, maybe a day, maybe three or more to claw your way back to consciousness, and then you were waking from a timewarped dream of a few hours sleep.

You woke up, eyes adjusting to the darkness, ears pricked by the sea waving in the distance. A quick glance at the clock told you it was after midnight and it’d been a little too long between bathroom breaks and naps.

Bucky woke just as you stirred, hair about his face, hefty form mashed into the armchair of discontent as tried to stretch the cramp in his back.

“Hey,” his voice was heavy with sleep, a little hoarse and almost aching in your heart in some strange way.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” you said, plastering a small smile on your face. “Maybe shower, you know – grown human things.”

He nodded, concerned smile in his face. “You sure you’re…?”

You laughed softly, wincing as you did so and Bucky was on his feet, body coming closer to you and you now hyper-aware of his broad and steady form, so near to yours. You bit your lip by way of habit and Bucky glanced to your mouth without thinking, fixing his eyes back on yours too late.

You swallowed, stepping away just a touch. “It’s alright, I’ll live.”

Bucky watched you wander out of the room, deciding whether it’d be wise to follow you and chose instead to stay. He listened for water, the sound of the shower stream clear after a minute or two later, and decided to change into cleaner clothes. He threw the black garb from the days before into the laundry basket by the door – he probably could have done that sooner, but no matter. He kept the same clothes on, perhaps out of superstition, stupid he remembered, but a small part of him wondered if he’d changed sooner, maybe that would mean you wouldn’t recover?

He shook his head, ignoring the mutiny of images, flashing through his brain at the past events. You on the ground, head cradled in his arms, sirens, Sam, stitches, a safehouse, then a shock of realisation through his heart when you drifting and dithering in a confused half-sleep, those small moments before everything lost control.

Bucky exhaled, heavy in the air and sat down on the bed, worrying his head in his hands.

---

Bruises bloomed like ink spilled on skin as you carefully towelled yourself dry.

You surveyed your body in the mirror, full-length on the back of the door. Most of you was intact, save for the stitches in your waist. The bullet had run clean through it seemed, Wakandan technology probably repairing the bulk of it. If only bruises could be solved in the same, magical  manner.

“I guess they never let the body take the easy way out, huh,” you murmured, gingerly putting on your clothes and feeling exhausted from the sheer activity of simply taking a damn shower. You drank heartily from the tap and forced a toothbrush in your mouth, easing the sand in your throat, the harsh reality of breathing that came with dehydration.

A minute later and you were returning to the bedroom, stopping as you caught Bucky’s gaze.

He was sitting on the bed and he looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days. Bags weighed his pretty eyes, grey now in the dim light of the night, dark all the same. His handsome face showed every line of exhaustion, worry, all strange feeling and a fullness of expression in his face despite his slumping shoulders.

“Hey,” he offered, biting his lip in a new, nervous kind of way as if trying to fit new words and feeling in his mouth.

“I’m not going to break, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you told him, sensing his worry. You came round to the side of the bed and felt him shift as you folded yourself beneath the covers, gingerly tucking them about your waist.

“I know, I just–”

“It’s alright,” you answered. “You’re safe–”

“But that’s just it,” Bucky said, almost angrily, and horrified, then regret at feeling so – feeling his chest constrict in some kind of way. “You’re not, that’s–”

“Hey,” you tried again, softer this time, trying to measure the seeping affection tightening in your throat. “It’s my job to protect you, keep you safe–”

“And you?”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, raising your face to his own now, feeling brave for a moment and took his hands in your own. “I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t.”

Your skin was wildfire in his hands, firing off every sense, every cell in his body drawing towards you, like a flower reaching for the sun. He was closer now, his face nearer still and you swore he could probably hear your heart hammering away beneath your clothes.

“I know,” he said at last, a measured breath turned shaky as he looked at you, gaze hot on your own, drifting to your lips, then back to your eyes, a question in his own. “It’s just…”

“What?”

A plea more than a question as the moment grew weighted in indecision, anticipation hot and startling. Then his lips parted, and then your own, and finally, finally, he was kissing you, you kissing him, tentative, chaste, astonished and wonder in the way you moved, the care, the deliberation turned gentle, so sweet. Bucky surged forward, hands sliding through your hair now, bodies tangled in the covers and then you were wincing, breaking the kiss and he was apologising, the moment come and gone, and now he was withdrawing, face flustered and breathless with worry.

“I’m sorry, I–” he bit his lip, concern aching through his face, feeling knocking sideways and about inside him, and he was finding it hard to breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you told him, all softness and sweet delight. “I didn’t think I’d get shot.”

Bucky scoffed, laughing with ease. “Fair.”

You kissed him this time, tempting him closer. “We don’t have to do anything,” you continued, half-worried, half-off and away in some pure slice of joy you decided to grip tight.

‘We can do this,” he replied, kissing you again, slowly, languidly and paused, amusement and desire shining through your face. “If you want to–”

You cut him off, lips hungry and sweet on his own, urging him on, desire beginning somewhere in the depths of your protected heart. His hands were on you again, your cheeks, cradling your face like gold found in a wild stream, and god, kissing him was so easy, so lovely.

Bucky pulled away, breathless, a thought flashing through his mind. “Actually, I don’t know if we can do this, do you?”

“Don’t know,” you replied, pressing your lips to his again, hot, almost hungrily, weeks of anticipation, affection, barely tempered desire and forced cohabitation, the decision made firm in your mind now. “Don’t care.”

And so he kissed you, all sweetness and fascination, as easy as night pulled the dawn.

---

It was warm. Too warm, air coming short, his whole right arm fried with a strange kind of heat pressing into his skin.

Consciousness seeped through with a slow kind of annoyance as Bucky grew half-awake, half-incensed, then half-groaned at his unfailing ability to rise with the sun. Perhaps it was habit, simmered through the last weeks of the season, the days of coffee, numbers, flashing smiles, perhaps it was the patrons and your pretty face...

Bucky was wide awake now, realising the warmth was from you, your sleeping form resting beside him, gently pressed against his side from when you’d turned over sometime in the cool night. He’d come to memorise you over the last few weeks, moreso the last few days, watching you when you weren’t watching him as sleep took him slow toward morning.

You’d begun the first few nights of the job almost stiff, arms tidied to your sides and deliberate in keeping the space measured between you both in the bed, mouthing off, eyes teasing, and then a whispered good night before easing into sleep. He’d watch your face calm, your brow ease, light from the street drifting about the parts of your face that were kept hidden by the day. Minutes stretched deep into the night as the evenings grew cooler, sheets pulled closer, and sometimes comfort pulling your bodies closer and still.

Sheets, soft beneath his fingers. Linen, fancy for a safehouse, comforting all the same. This was usually the part where he would shift from the bed, extracting himself to fight imaginary spiders in the bathroom – with furtive eyes instead of furtive fists, mind you – but this time, he let himself stay. A few minutes, maybe longer than he anticipated.

“You’re staring,” came your familiar voice and Bucky scoffed, a contrast to the new thumping in his heart.

“Doubt it.”

“I’m the one meant to be watching you, remember?”

“You know,” he started, eyes mischievous, bringing his face close to yours and adoring the way morning eased through your face. “For someone who’s supposed to be my bodyguard, you’re a little sloppy.”

The look you shot him was somewhere between accidental death and wishful manslaughter, and Bucky swallowed the next line.

“It’d be a pity if anything happened to you in your sleep,” you teased. “Just because I’m recovering doesn’t mean I’m useless.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he whispered, renewed affection in his voice and couldn’t help himself, choosing to kiss you, warmth and sweet desire from his nose to his toes, still astonished that you were kissing him back despite the previous night offering him evidence otherwise.

Bucky shifted, pressing you deeper into the sheets, bodies folded and pressed close, closer still, hot beneath the sheets, clothes bare covers between you, as your kisses became hungrier, more urgent, all full with desire with hands sliding along hemlines, waistbands, fingers feeling brave, then warm skin beneath palms, arms wrapped around waists, fiercely, completely–

You were shivering now, despite the heat, the bubble of  eager desire, all cloudy arousal about your senses, through your skin, muscle, tight in your heart, and why did it all feel so frightening, like sitting on the edge of a waterfall, the loud rush of excitement and dread?

“Hey,” Bucky’s gentle tone, soft in your ears, lips softer still on your crown, your nose, your lover’s bow. “Darlin’, it’s okay, we don’t have to.”

He was watching you, the words like a balm on your anxious self. Those eyes again, that mouth, pink and swollen from kissing you, you kissing him, as the dawn shot light and shadow, casting his handsome face into exquisite wonder.

You shook your head, quiet smile in your pretty face.

The next words were clipped short by the familiar tone, ringing from those kimoyo beads and your face in alarm as you leapt from the bed, grimacing, before grabbing the beads and waltzing out of the bedroom, leaving Bucky to recollect the pockets of body warmth released from the sheets.

He sighed, head doing somersaults in a poor attempt to compartmentalise. What was he doing? What were you both doing?

His ears pricked as he heard Steve’s familiar voice, short and curt, then a little laughter, and Bucky was feeling a little raw now, angry at the utter lack of communication between him and his big, blonde, golden goose of brother.

He shoved his morning hair into bun, yanking the sheets into some semblance of a bed made and marched out to confront him.

---

You were on auto-pilot, ease masked through your face, a few well-thrown jokes and then the call ended. Just a mission update masquerading as a check-in, you realised, sighing as you slid the beads back onto your wrist.

Bucky’s footsteps came swiftly and you turned to meet him, immediately sensing the tension wrought throughout his body, so soft and sweet just mere moments before.

“Did he hang up?”

You only nodded as you watched the full gamut of emotions rush through his face.

“How was he?” he asked.

“Steve? Insatiable.”

Bucky knew you were joking, but a strange kind of feeling twisted through his stomach all the same, bleeding into the frown that dimpled his face.

“Funny.”

“What, you’re jealous of Steve? Come on,” you were laughing now, silently happy if you admitted it, but delighted all the same. “He’s a little too rough around the edges for me.”

Bucky scoffed. “Really now.”

“Yeah,” you replied, standing up and angled towards the kitchen, pushing a fresh coffer of grounds into the machine. “Guy who makes a living jumping out of airplanes and cliffs of conclusion? Not my type.”

Something swelled delight in his chest, but Bucky chose to ignore it. “I see,” he managed, swallowing, face feeling hot from the memory of your mouth on him mere moments before, then feeling brave, “So what is your type?”

You were silent, running the dark liquid goodness through the spout into two coffee cups. Bucky watched you move about, easy, freely, a little tension in one side of your body, but otherwise seemingly fine. He parked himself on the stool and smiled a thanks as you nudged the cup towards him.

“So.”

“Hm?”

“Your type is…?”

A slow sweet smile rose through your face and you fixed a playful kind of look on him, “I don’t know, Barry – you tell me.”

Again, he couldn’t help himself and leaned over, hands coming warm on either side of your face and kissed you, sweet and loving, and feeling you melt into his kiss. “Maybe I’ll find out one day,” he whispered, pulling away, the words soft on your lips and pulling at his heart.

“Perhaps,” you replied, feeling shy now and stared down at your cup, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in contemplation.

Pleasant silence grew patience in the spaces of the morning as he watched you, studying you and trying to make sense of the next part, and where it might take him. Where would it take you? And what of the mission?

“You want to know why I took this job?” you said at last and every single part of him became alert, sharp.

Bucky chose not to say anything, feeling the silence would say enough of what he could even begin to start with.

You began pacing, by habit, by way of something to do, around the kitchen bench, to the living room, back to the kitchen bench, your hands clenching and face turned frightened then brave at last.

“Ask me,” you glanced at him. “Ask me why I took this mission.”

He blinked, curious and barely controlled. “Okay, why did you take this mission?”

A mutiny of memories rushed through your head and you were a little dizzy now, almost regretting the push to open this box.

You took a breath. Inhale. Exhale. Again, then began to speak.

---

// READ PART VII HERE //

---

Feel free to send all yelling, bribes, coffee, Easter buns, and commentary by sending ya girl an Ask!

#rs2kmcuchallenge #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x you fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bucky series

[ibboard]

Recently saw a huge long thread of “which character are you like”, and then Matt Mercer posted the link and his full results.

I was guessing some of the scores (”slovenly or stylish” or “disarming vs creepy”? What kind of scale are those?) but it’s probably not entirely wrong.

I don’t know the top ones, but Data, Simon Tam, C-3PO  and Ross Gellar probably isn’t far out, and I’m happy to see Giles in the top 25!

Everyone over 75% (which starts with Hermione)

Bernard Lowe (Westworld): 90%

Lane Pryce (Mad Men): 90%

Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place): 90%

Filius Flitwick (Harry Potter): 89%

Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation): 89%

Amy Farrah Fowler (The Big Bang Theory): 88%

Simon Tam (Firefly + Serenity): 88%

Dr. Chan Kaifang (Space Force): 88%

Brian Johnson (The Breakfast Club): 88%

C-3PO (Star Wars): 87%

Dr. Marcus Brody (Raiders of the Lost Ark): 87%

Ross Geller (Friends): 86%

Waylon Smithers (The Simpsons): 86%

Felix Gaeta (Battlestar Galactica): 86%

Evan (Superbad): 86%

Peter (The Room): 86%

Thufir Hawat (Dune): 86%

Artie Abrams (Glee): 86%

Dr. Adrian Mallory (Space Force): 86%

Al Robbins (CSI: Crime Scene Investigation): 86%

Dr. Shaun Murphy (The Good Doctor): 86%

Tom Hagen (The Godfather): 86%

Leonard Hofstadter (The Big Bang Theory): 85%

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory): 85%

Rupert Giles (Buffy the Vampire Slayer): 85%

Timothy McGee (NCIS): 85%

Count Alexei Karenin (Anna Karenina): 85%

David Rosen (Scandal): 85%

David Phillips (CSI: Crime Scene Investigation): 85%

Pope (Outer Banks): 85%

Odo (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine): 84%

Nick Carraway (The Great Gatsby): 84%

Raymond Holt (Brooklyn Nine-Nine): 84%

Jared Dunn (Silicon Valley): 83%

Ash (Alien): 83%

Jack Crawford (The Silence of the Lambs): 83%

Bruce Banner (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 82%

Abed Nadir (Community): 82%

Mycroft Holmes (Sherlock): 82%

Donald Mallard (NCIS): 82%

Jimmy Palmer (NCIS): 82%

Ray Ploshansky (Girls): 82%

Linus Caldwell (Ocean's 11): 82%

Severus Snape (Harry Potter): 81%

Dexter Morgan (Dexter): 81%

John Munch (Law & Order: SVU): 81%

Jasper Hale (Twilight): 81%

Michael Bluth (Arrested Development): 81%

Kimball Cho (The Mentalist): 81%

Dr. Aaron Glassman (The Good Doctor): 81%

Dr. Jennifer Melfi (The Sopranos): 81%

Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice): 80%

Charlie Carson (Downton Abbey): 80%

Miranda Hobbes (Sex and the City): 80%

Norman Wilson (The Wire): 80%

Peter Gregory (Silicon Valley): 80%

Amy Santiago (Brooklyn Nine-Nine): 80%

Marty Byrde (Ozark): 80%

Geordi La Forge (Star Trek: The Next Generation): 80%

Dr. Eric Foreman (House, M.D.): 80%

Oliver Hampton (How To Get Away With Murder): 80%

Ellen Parsons (Damages): 80%

Preston Burke (Grey's Anatomy): 79%

Lisa Simpson (The Simpsons): 79%

The Narrator (Fight Club): 79%

Billy Keikeya (Battlestar Galactica): 79%

Dana Scully (The X-Files): 79%

Walter Skinner (The X-Files): 79%

Henry Rearden (Atlas Shrugged): 79%

Johnny Rose (Schitt's Creek): 79%

Kenny Stowton (Killing Eve): 79%

Q (Tommorrow Never Dies): 79%

Brandon Stark (Game of Thrones): 78%

Cedric Daniels (The Wire): 78%

Alfred Pennyworth (The Dark Knight): 78%

Ray Arnold (Jurassic Park): 78%

Richard Hendricks (Silicon Valley): 78%

Donald Cragen (Law & Order: SVU): 78%

Randall Pearson (This Is Us): 78%

Jimmy Price (Hannibal): 78%

Caitlin Snow (The Flash): 78%

Capt. Oliver Queenan (The Departed): 78%

Varys (Game of Thrones): 77%

Principal Skinner (The Simpsons): 77%

Elsie Hughes (Westworld): 77%

Arthur (Inception): 77%

Dwight Schrute (The Office): 76%

Leo McGarry (The West Wing): 76%

Toby Ziegler (The West Wing): 76%

Jin-Soo Kwon (LOST): 76%

Dr. Strange (Marvel Cinematic Universe): 76%

Richard Webber (Grey's Anatomy): 76%

Lucius Fox (The Dark Knight): 76%

Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1): 76%

Betsy Heron (Mean Girls): 76%

Robert Fischer (Inception): 76%

Alan Harper (Two and Half Men): 76%

Jonah Byrde (Ozark): 76%

Dr. James Wilson (House, M.D.): 76%

Janet (The Good Place): 76%

Captain Jim Brass (CSI: Crime Scene Investigation): 76%

#Personality Tests #seems accurate #maybe

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Saw this on Twitter today and I’ve been rolling my eyes so hard since.

“It’s very telling”? Of WHAT? The fact that they like things? Because I’m pretty sure that is just part of being a person lmao. Just because they’re advocates doesn’t mean everything they do has to be ~advocacy~. They are also allowed to enjoy things.

Also, there’s, like, next to no autistic actors changing the portrayal of autism on TV out there to highlight. There’s Talia Grant, Kayla Cromer, and Lillian Carrier and I’m pretty sure that’s it. The other autistic actors playing autistic roles on TV out there are relegated to bit parts or guest roles and/or the same old offensive stereotypes, and neither of those things are even close to “changing the portrayal of autism”, regardless of casting.

I don’t understand this obsession with saying that casting autistic actors = good rep and casting allistic actors = bad rep. If that were the case we’d all have to stop liking Abed Nadir even though AN AUTISTIC PERSON LITERALLY CREATED HIM.

I’ve seen allistic actors get autistic experiences down so perfectly it made me cry. (And no, not just Guy Henry, though admittedly I do have him in mind lol. Danny Pudi also did a fantastic job, and William Beck gets autistic mannerisms so right that he gets the same criticisms of “being wooden” and “not showing enough emotion” as real autistic people!) If that’s “mimicry”, then fuck it, it’s damn good, chameleon-level mimicry.

I really, really don’t get where this idea that “autistic people are so utterly different a Real Human™ could never accurately portray one” comes from, or why on Earth people think it’s progressive. It’s true that an allistic person could never 100% understand what autistic people go through, but like... a straight person could never 100% understand what gay people go through either and, while we joke about “how straight actors playing gay characters kiss”, I don’t see anyone seriously clamouring for gay characters to ALWAYS be played by gay actors. Because we all know that would end badly and result in pigeonholing of actors based on sexuality. So why can’t we apply the same logic to this?

Anyways I’m going to be extra enthusiastic in my upcoming thread (saving it for the episode’s 2-year anniversary lol) praising Guy Henry’s performance in That meltdown scene, just to spite this person for being the physical embodiment of the No Fun Allowed meme.

ETA: Also, like. Why can’t we do both? Why can’t I e.g. be happy and celebrate for Talia Grant’s success and praise how surprisingly well Danny Pudi replicated (common, obviously not universal) autistic mannerisms and speech patterns? These things aren’t mutually exclusive.

#personal tag #long post #sorry for the rant I just really Did Not like this tweet lmao

[ofloremastery]

Semi-plotted geeky thread for @atomancy ‘s Rabastan Lestrange

It was the usual Halloween get together for Greendale community college and students were dressed for the occasion in all sorts of garb and costume. ‘Fred Weasley’ sighed as he moved away from the punch bowl that he was certain contained more than just punch. His counter part, George ‘Troy’ Weasley, was no where to be found. 

While some might find it annoying to be ditched like this on Halloween, Abed didn’t mind too much. At the very least, it was mildly uncomfortable to be in a room full of strangers. But it was hard to get into character when you were missing your twin counter part. It was an easy costume, Hell, Abed didn’t even have to paint freckles on, but no one knew who he was without Troy beside him. Abed’s eyes drifted over the small mass of students, before falling on a handsome figure that he briefly felt that he recognized.

Approaching Rabastan, Abed pointed a finger out to the wizard as he considered him for a moment. “Are you supposed to be Kai Parker from The Vampire Diaries, or am I seeing a doppelganger,” he joked before friendly raising his cup, taking a swig.”Happy Halloween by the way, I’m Abed, I’m supposed to be ‘Fred’ from Harold Potter but no one is taking me seriously.”

#Thread: Abed Nadir #atomancy #what can i say i'm a bitch for comedy threads #Atomancy - Abed Nadir & Rabastan Lestrange 05|01 #Abed Nadir: Verse: ‘Harry Potter; ‘Voldemort is my past present and fiction.’ #im not even sorry for the verse tag

[ao3feed-jeffxannie]

by Kervia

Everyone has different threads that bind them to people in their lives. Upon first meeting someone, a specifically colored thread appears between the two people, tightens/solidifies, and glows. Once it has, then it fades. The threads can be walked through by those not affected, but those who are, are frozen, unable to move or speak.

Colors And Meanings of Threads: Gold- Soulmate/Destiny Red- Parent Turquoise- Acquaintance Black- Friend Purple- Love Interest Orange- Enemy Silver- Sexual Chemistry Blue- Dangerous (Physically/Spiritually/Mentally, etc.) Green- Family White- Child

Jeff spent most of his 20’s and the beginning of his 30’s chasing every woman who caused a silver thread to manifest from his chest to their own, knowing that meant the sex with them would be good. And the absence of a gold or purple thread—or blue—meant that neither of them expected anything more. And things were going perfectly until he met... her. Annie Edison. The only woman in the world who was a gold, black, silver, and purple thread. What. The. Hell?

Words: 1190, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Threads

Fandoms: Community (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Annie Edison, Annie Kim, Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes, Troy's Mother, Troy's father, Britta Perry, Abed Nadir, Abed's Mother, Gobi Nadir, Doreen Fitzgerald Winger, William Winger, William Winger Jr., Anthony Edison, Annie's mother, annie's father, Detective Butcher, Pierce Hawthorne, Dean Craig Pelton, Ben Chang, Ian Duncan, Alex "Star-Burns" Osborne, Rachel (Community), Michelle Slater, Andre Bennett, Garrett Lambert, Vaughn Miller, Magnitude, Buzz Hickey, Elijah Bennett, Jordan Bennett, Subway (Community), The Study Group, Jeremy Simmons, Cornelius Hawthorne, Meghan (Community), Marshall Kane, Elroy Patashnik, Neil (Community), Paige (Community), Rich Stephenson, Alan Connor, Frankie Dart, Professor Cligoris, Eustice Whitman, Professor Cornwallis, Shirley Bennett, Original Characters, Original Female Character(s), Original Male Character(s), Original Child Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Original Animal Character(s)

Relationships: Annie Edison/Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Annie Edison & Abed Nadir, Abed Nadir & Jeff Winger, Troy Barnes & Annie Edison & Abed Nadir, Abed Nadir/Rachel (Community), Annie Edison & Britta Perry, Troy Barnes & Annie Edison, Shirley Bennett & Jeff Winger, Shirley Bennett/Detective Butcher, Shirley Bennett & Annie Edison & Abed Nadir & Britta Perry & Jeff Winger, Ian Duncan & Jeff Winger, Ian Duncan/Original Female Character(s), Jeff Winger & the Study Group, Jeff Winger/Original Female Character (mentioned), Michelle Slater/Jeff Winger (mentioned, Britta Perry/Jeff Winger (mentioned), Andre Bennett/Shirley Bennett (mentioned), Vicki Cooper/Neil (Community)

Additional Tags: Fantasy, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Family, Kid Fic, Baby Fic, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Fluff and Smut, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Eventual Romance, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow Dancing, Romantic Fluff, Family Fluff, Family Drama, Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Human, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Soulmates, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Angst, romantic fantasy, Romantic Tension, Friendship, May/December Relationship, Tags May Change, Rating May Change, Warnings May Change

#ao3feed-jeffxannie #jeff x annie #Jeff Winger #Annie Edison #community #annie x jeff