That Rattmann den with the radio playing “Exile Vilify”
The Announcer’s dialogue when he’s monitoring your tests
Literally everything Doug Rattmann
Panels. Just… panels. The way they morph in and out, the way they go absolutely berserk while GLaDOS is trying to put the facility back together… PANELS, MAN.
That part where Wheatley’s waiting for you by the ceiling when you jump on that faith plate and he yells “hey, hey, it’s me! I’m okay!” and he sounds so gosh darn happy, and ugghh, WHEATLEY, who gave you the right to be so adorable, you jerk?
That dense, slooshing liquid noise that happens when you try and shoot a portal on a surface where you can’t
EVERYTHING HAS A LEITMOTIF. Lasers have a leitmotif! Funnels have a leitmotif! Hard light bridges have a leitmotif! Rat dens have a leitmotif!
The vitrified doors that show how completely off-their-rocker Old Aperture was. Your blood will be replaced with peanut water? WHY
That one Rattmann den with thE DOOR THAT CLOSES BEHIND YOU?
Whoa. Watching a tiny house show and they’re giving feedback on different houses and one of the critiques was that one of the homes exterior looked too much like a mobile home. “You want a tiny home. A home. But if the outside looks like a mobile home then the world will treat you as such.”
Hey hipsters settle down. Tiny homes are mobile homes okay? The aesthetic is different but don’t pretend you’re better than trailer park people just because you call it a “tiny house community.” You’re just building gentrified mobile homes. They’re awesome, but that’s what they are. So let’s not get all holier than thou with the trailer park people.
(for the 5 sentence fic thing) Sam looked down at the tiny, wriggling bundle of fur in his arms.
kitten, still wet from the pouring rain, was almost entirely white but for a soft smear of gray fur over
its nose that expanded into a spot that ringed around both eyes and
one ear, a grayish shape on its belly that reminded Sam of a goblet if he squinted at it from the right angle, and two patches of gray behind its back legs.
was muttering about dirt in the bunker and allergies and about how
silly it would be to keep it and how this thing’s gonna be an
outside cat if it’s anything at all, you hear? but
the kitten, oblivious, huddled the crook of Sam’s arm,
snuffled against his skin, and began to vibrate with happy purrs.
Before Sam could really think about it, he said, “Galahad.”
“Uhhhh… I was thinkin’ maybe, I dunno, Spot, or
Cyclops, or maybe anything but that,
because… well, don’t you think he’s a bit wimpy for a Galahad?”
okay,” Sam said, and scratched the tiny kitten’s head, “he’ll
grow into it.”
The embarrassing thing is that everybody except Bucky did not realize that Steve was now able to turn into a kitten at will for weeks.
The SHIELD witch just giggled at everyone and then said, kindly, “I think you all better ask your Captain why he feels like going cat sometimes.”
They all did think about it.
Eventually, they realized they didn’t have to ask.
So each and every one of the Avengers pretty much let Steve have his space and Clint’s ridiculous hat for hiding under (it was an EXCELLENT place to hide, okay?). Also, they didn’t laugh at him when he, in kitten form, took charge of Bucky’s leftover milk from his breakfast cereal.
Both Kitten Cap and his team were both surprised to find out that getting cuddles and scritches were definitely appreciated. So it became a Thing. He still gave the most pathetic, embarrassed meows if any of the ladies of the team cuddled him a little too close but comported himself like a gentleman anyway.
Steve stayed a cat until he felt like turning back into a human again and the only one who could actually order him back into his usual form was, of course, his beloved sergeant.
“As cute as you are in this form, there’s just one problem,” Bucky had said, scritching the Kitty-Cap puddle on his chest.
“I can’t kiss you stupid while you’re like that. So go change back. Chop chop!”
So of course, Bucky eventually gets a lap full of human Steve Rogers and he’s quietly thankful that his version of the super soldier serum lets him bear all that weight the same way he would’ve if he had been able to cuddle Steve when he was still tiny and not a cat. And of course, Bucky gets to bury his nose in dandelion fluff hair, pressing kisses to Steve’s temple, the curve of his cheek, before indulging in that sweet, red mouth.
The truth was that both of them were pretty broken and there were days when it was Steve picking up Bucky’s pieces off the floor and days when it was Bucky’s turn to do the same for Steve. There really isn’t a magic spell to make everything right for both of them.
But loving… well, loving did go a long way into making things better.
“All good?” he purrs against Steve’s lips.
“I don’t know,” Steve purrs back, nibbling at his bottom lip. “You promised to kiss me stupid. I’m waiting, sergeant.”
Bucky laughs and makes good on his promise.
- end -
Note: This was because someone asked me if Steve can now change into cat form at will. Does this answer your question?
(First it was Thorin Oakenshield and now Steve Rogers. There is a method to my madness, I SWEAR.)
Steve Rogers was completely in the Land of No Fucks Given when it came to questions about his personal life.
As far as he was concerned, who he fell in love with and/or wanted to sleep with was none of anybody’s business, because, the last time he checked, there was still such a thing as privacy and he refused to subject himself or the person he loved to that kind of intense microscopic scrutiny.
Hence, a certain newsreel that showed Steve with a compass having Peggy’s picture in it. They did adore each other - this was true and perhaps, if things had been different, Steve might well have proposed marriage to Peggy Carter and said proposal might have been accepted. But somebody else had already proposed to Steve first, quite a long while back and he had joyfully accepted that proposal, with the promise that “I’d not make you a merry widower this soon, baby so yeah, I’m going to get out of this sickbed. Ain’t dyin’ on you yet.”
And Steve and Peggy had resolved to be the “very best and dearest of friends” instead.
So there was truth to that picture - he carried her in his compass because she had helped him find his direction when he’d felt the most lost and she’d helped him save the man he did love. It was the press that decided to put a different spin on things and because the world then was vastly different and it was a battle that Steve could not yet fight, he’d listened to Peggy’s advice and let that go for now.
But here and now in the 21st century, where two fellas could finally get the State of New York to legally recognize their union? After enduring death and harrowing torment and tears and blood and pain, only to find each other at last? Yep. No fucks given at all.
Of course, Somebody was feeling mighty possessive this fine December morning and okay, so maybe Steve really didn’t want to get out of bed to attend this latest press conference. He was far more tempted to thread his fingers into dark hair and return the favor to his ardent, adoring husband, who was pleading, “Baby, five more minutes, please? Let me love on you a little more?”
Nope - no sane, sensible person could resist that so Steve had arched his neck to allow more of those sweet, biting, sucking kisses and okay, maybe Somebody was a little bit hungry and needed “breakfast” too. He wasn’t about to deny his mister anything.
The press conference for today was in the aftermath of a surprise infestation of…. orcs. Yeah. Real, Middle-earth type orcs. Because some idiot had discovered an ancient artifact that apparently served to open some kind of inter-dimensional doorway and let the god damn things in. Thor looked a bit shifty when they consulted him about it and muttered something about “Great-Uncle Thorin” and that “Great Uncle Bilbo” would absolutely be having kittens about this.
In any case, the Avengers and the new SHIELD team scrambled to fight against them, assisting the National Guard and the NYPD. Steve, of course, called the battle plans. Yes, they won the day. Thankfully. The remaining orcs were sent back to wherever they came from. The press conference was simply meant to give a run down of what happened and to reassure a frightened public (although there was a substantial section of that public having a delightful Field Day about Middle Earth, Elves and Orcs!).
So Director Coulson (yes, Steve got around to signing his trading cards) was being his usual unflappable self, answering questions with the rest of the Avengers - even Tony was behaving himself today (though this had more to do with: Thor, your Dwarf relatives are engineers? Holy Mother of Gandalf!). And suddenly:
“Captain Rogers, is that a hickey on your neck?”
Steve blinked, put a hand on said area of his body and then, red began to rise in his cheeks.
"Sergeant Dracula strikes again!” Tony stage-whispered even as the Director began with: “I think that may be a battle injury — "
But Steve straightened his spine, looked the reporter - a young man from the Daily Bugle who looked more like a college kid - dead in the eye and said, “Not that it’s any of your business, son but yes, my husband was probably a bit too affectionate this morning.”
"Wasn’t hearing not one complaining peep outta you,” said Steve’s husband very smugly. He was the subject of a rather spectacular photograph wherein he’d grabbed one of the orcish swords and used it against one who was about to sneak up and stab Steve in the back. The camera had captured the exact moment the Winter Soldier’s confiscated weapon made contact with the orc’s belly.
“Who said I was complaining, Mister?” Steve said, smiling widely. He leaned over to plant a kiss squarely on the lips of one Sergeant James Buchanan Rogers-Barnes which was enthusiastically returned.
And that was how Captain America and Bucky Barnes effectively outed themselves and announced their marriage to the rest of the world.
Director Coulson tried to bring the conversation back to the Orc Invasion but it was a wasted effort. The Avengers were too busy laughing to be of any use and some of them - not named Clint Barton and Tony Stark - were gleefully sharing details of the wedding and bachelor party.
Bucky would later put a photo of Steve proudly sporting a brand new hickey on his instagram. The hashtag was #mymister.
The first thing that Bucky noticed, when he was in a better state of mind to pay attention to these things, was that Steve rarely drew anymore.
He’d gotten used to seeing Steve with his sketchpad and during the war, when he finally filled up his last sketchpad’s pages, any bit of paper they could scrounge up. Bucky would trade cigarettes, chocolate, socks, anything so Steve could get paper, put things down, lose the worried frown or that terrible smile he’d put on, trying to make it that he was all right.
Steve wasn’t. But gratifyingly, it didn’t seem to take much effort from Bucky to coax that sunshine smile out again and maybe Bucky was fucked up in the head himself, dreaming he was back in that base in Azzano, but at least Steve had that sunshine smile and Bucky could believe that they’d get out of there. Get out of the war alive. Go home.
So okay, a lot of truly epic clusterfuckery - as Clint put it - had happened in between - which was a pretty much a succint way of describing what had happened to both of them in the past seventy years.
But Bucky was coping or as close as to okay as he was going to get and Steve… wasn’t.
Steve not drawing was just another sign of how Steve… wasn’t.
The first time Bucky saw Steve give him that sunshine smile that took him out at the knees was when Bucky had finally said, “Fuck it all, please don’t hate me,” grabbed that idiot beautiful face and kissed him.
On the cheek, you goddamn pervs. Just at the corner of his mouth, enough to get Bucky started on confessing: I’ve loved you since I was thirteen years old and figured it out when you almost died of pneumonia…. again and I told you I was gonna come drag you outta Heaven if you died on me. I love you still. I love you now. I love you always.
Sunshine. All the joy in the world. And Steve, the little shit, said, “My lips are over here, Bucko.”
Fine. He adjusted his aim. Whatever made his Captain happy.
The next step was getting Steve to draw again.
So he gets Steve a new sketchbook - a really, really nice one - the kind he’d always wanted to get for him back then and could never afford. There was a very nice redheaded lady who had sat him down and explained the state of his finances, after getting his name cleared and his POW status officially recognized. Bucky was stunned, to put it mildly, but said Redheaded Lady - her nickname was Pesky, which made him laugh - had plenty of good advice on what to do with the money. But bottom line, it meant he could buy an entire store’s worth of sketchbooks and art materials for Steve if he wanted.
So he gives them to Steve one morning, along with a box of pencils and Steve is grateful, of course, and then there’s the inevitable, “Aw, Buck, you didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I needed to and hey, I expect to see drawings of me in that book of yours again. But if you need me naked, we might have to negotiate a bit,” And here, he waggles his eyebrows a little, smirks mischievously, just enough to make Steve laugh.
Steve is very good at negotiating.
The first time Bucky knows that Steve is okay is when he sees the artwork on the fucking wall. A cartoon-y Bucky, in the style of what the kids these days call “chibi” with the caption I don’t want to go running. I’m lazy!
On the fucking wall. When he had a perfectly good sketchbook. That Bucky gave him.
That little shit.
Bucky ends up tackling his sweaty, mischievous boyfriend when he comes home but since the tackling involves kissing the breath out of him and dragging his ass to the shower, he figures that’s all right.
Steve was…. and that was all that mattered.
- end -
Note: Because I have wonderful people on my dashboard who give me bunnies by reblogging awesome arts like this one.
Also, I’m hoping that peskyredhead doesn’t mind that I made her the financial consultant to our boys! :P