brothermyncroft

[brothermyncroft]

Painting update! 

[brothermyncroft]

who knows what i'm painting? ;)

[brothermyncroft]

A couple heartbreaking thoughts about James Buchanan Barnes as the Winter Soldier, which probably don’t need pointing out, but I’m doing it anyway:

He most likely gets so violent when Steve tries to remind him of whom he is not only because Bucky is scared and confused and mentally abused, but also because remembering usually comes with physical pain.  As we see when Pierce visits for the mission report, whenever Bucky starts to remember and be his blessed, stubborn self about it all, he gets wiped or frozen, and like the dog they treat him as, he begins to associate the act of remembering with pain.  That’s why he reacts so aggressively to Steve’s insistence of his identity (on top of the fact that he’s confused and lashing out and trying to fulfill his mission, too). 

What if Bucky is scared of heights because of the fall from the train?  Like, sure, the WS has had all that just drained, drilled, frozen, and fried out of him, but whenever Bucky comes back a bit, the fear returns.  This is especially important after Steve falls from the helicarrier, because I think we can all agree that at this point  there’s a hell of a good dose of Bucky in there.  And Bucky knows what that’s like, to fall out of reach of a hand that can’t reach back (Hydra’s hold on him keeps him from reaching back). He knows that he needed someone to save him when it happened.  But to get to Steve in time, this strange man that he somehow knows he has to save, Bucky has to jump.  No two ways about it.  And he’s terrified.  Ultimately, though, Bucky has always been a good solider, and an even better friend, and when something needs doing, he’ll pull through.  Especially for the skinny kid from Brooklyn.

[brothermyncroft]

More Bogle smut please and thank you.

no

[brothermyncroft]

It was so great. Pizza every night is how the other half must live.

Bless them for their ingenuity at existence.  If only I could be that strong.

[brothermyncroft]

I am holding in a series of guffaws while sitting in the Detroit airport because this is pure gold. Thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my incredibly unhealthy and cholesterol riddled heart.

LAUGH OUT LOUD PLEASE GOD it'll make me feel better about this.  ;)

you're welcome.  I take it the pizza was satisfactory in Rome.

[brothermyncroft]

this is a ridiculous birthday gift for a friend, based oh-so-mortifyingly loosely on a novel we read in one of our courses this semester.  ignore at will.

It had started out harmlessly enough, Ripley slouching into the mission with his customary disdain, grimacing at the milling multitude of tramps and hobos as they all waited for some greasy ration and a matted rag of a jacket to call their own.  His cigarette had been calculated as a sort of boast, a reminder that he, Ripley Fucking Bogle, was no ordinary tramp.  He was the best and brightest, the superstar of the Serpentine!— or so he might have been branded if any entrepreneurial art student had had the decency to come along and canvas the streets properly for a rising talent.  Who could have resisted those bright green eyes, the teeth he kept white despite the ease with which he handled his tobacco?  Certainly not his stinking peers.  And, apparently, not a posh bird from some almost distant past, either.

She recognized him, he knew immediately as he saw her in the corner, and though he meandered away, he knew he was a goner.  She was no Laura, but that carefully straggled hair and those solemn brown eyes made him wish she had been; the way she was looking at him, he may have had better luck at Cambridge.  It was the eyes that did it (the fruity roundness of the shrouded breasts helped too).  In them, Ripley could see all his self-importance reflected back at him.  This girl was a prize.  A steal.  A full-on flint for his nether regions.  And he knew just how to reel her in. 

The comfort of a loving home was something Ripley often used to imagine and scoff at in equal measures.  He thought his rough ways and kennel-chewing smile quite charming.  And he’d be a good sight less resourceful at this rather challenging point in his life if the Bogle house had been a happy one, so there was that. 

But that girl.  Miss Browneyes and Slendermouth had known comfort from the moment she entered the world screaming about its chill, when she had been wrapped in a swaddling cloth that Ripley could still see sown into the seams of her demure charity-giving garb.  And like any good miscreant, he wanted to rip those seams out.  He chanced another look up and was met by reddening cheeks with nonetheless quizzical eyes.  Something about chocolate swam a loop in his intestinal brain before he pushed it away with a cluck of his tongue.  Ducking under the cartoon haze of vagrant dirt and flies, Ripley grimaced to himself.  Couldn’t be that easy, right?  And yet…

He headed for the door, head down, step smooth and purposeful, not fast, not running, never running.  First mistake.  These tramps were of a caliber far beyond Ripley’s usual expectations of reproach, of the particular variety that had never a purposeful movement in all their years.  Ripley’s path was practically telegraphed as the throngs parted for him, watching his progress for a moment before returning to their grazing.  Clumsy, a bit, not so much subtly in the art as he might have liked, but perhaps the girl needed some confidence after all, because Ripley was fully out into the courtyard and almost berating himself for his loss of sexual composure before he heard her voice behind him, layered and rich and unsure, with all the command of someone who always receives what is asked for but has been taught from an early age to speak softly.

“Wait.”

After that, it really is that easy.  The cat and mouse is a bit more awkward than it would be at a bar, what with the church shadow stretching over them and an unusual smell coming from the pockets of Ripley’s new coat, but green eyes conquer all female reason, of course— even when they are downright insulting.  He makes her pay for the look of her skin, so smooth and soft by taking bruise-bites that leave shadows on the paleness, like something removed.  Everywhere he puts his mouth turns out to be sweet, and when she laughs in the hedges, the echoes bounce back to him like fucking dinner bells.  God, he’s whipped.  And hungry.  Ripley’s stomach rumbles, and he looks at her and wonders if she’s ever felt as empty as his stomach.  Certainly not now.  She laughs again and when they are done, stands, straightening her dress and brushing herself off.  The sunlight hits her face from somewhere beyond the hedges and Ripley can see a blush rise with the light, turning her to caramel.  He watches as Miss Browneyes and Slendermouth trips her way back to the pavement and walks briskly inside.  His stomach rumbles again.  He should find a proper meal.

[brothermyncroft]

A couple heartbreaking thoughts about James Buchanan Barnes as the Winter Soldier, which probably don't need pointing out, but I'm doing it anyway:

He most likely gets so violent when Steve tries to remind him of whom he is not only because Bucky is scared and confused and mentally abused, but also because remembering usually comes with physical pain.  As we see when Pierce visits for the mission report, whenever Bucky starts to remember and be his blessed, stubborn self about it all, he gets wiped or frozen, and like the dog they treat him as, he begins to associate the act of remembering with pain.  That's why he reacts so aggressively to Steve's insistence of his identity (on top of the fact that he's confused and lashing out and trying to fulfill his mission, too). 

What if Bucky is scared of heights because of the fall from the train?  Like, sure, the WS has had all that just drained, drilled, frozen, and fried out of him, but whenever Bucky comes back a bit, the fear returns.  This is especially important after Steve falls from the helicarrier, because I think we can all agree that at this point 

 there's a hell of a good dose of Bucky in there.  And Bucky knows what that's like, to fall out of reach of a hand that can't reach back (Hydra's hold on him keeps him from reaching back). He knows that he needed someone to save him when it happened.  But to get to Steve in time, this strange man that he somehow knows he has to save, Bucky has to jump.  No two ways about it.  And he's terrified.  Ultimately, though, Bucky has always been a good solider, and an even better friend, and when something needs doing, he'll pull through.  Especially for the skinny kid from Brooklyn.

[brothermyncroft]

can we get a round of applause for argus filch, who not only looked after the entire fucking castle by himself, but did it without magic

[brothermyncroft]

It's been five years, and some days are still better than others.  The nightmares persist.  The arm needs maintenance.  Living a settled, meaningful life comes with challenges even a cryo-tube assassin could never imagine.  But with Steve's help, a memo book, and an extra long, extra safe vacation, Bucky is finally getting back on his feet.

[brothermyncroft]

head canon that steve gets a tattoo sleeve on his left arm so bucky can feel a little less different

[brothermyncroft]

(A Couple More Than) Ten Books That Have Stayed With Me:

The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh by A.A. Milne

The Complete Adventures of Peter Rabbit and Friends by Beatrix Potter

Ishmael by Daniel Quinn

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

Lirael by Garth Nix

My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

[brothermyncroft]

to my fic-writing friends, do you prefer AO3 or fanfiction.net or something else?

[brothermyncroft]

someone talk me out of downloading the entirety of both chris evans and sebastian stan's filmographies so i can have starbucks au film material

please

[brothermyncroft]

Can't a dude just get some fictional hobo lovin'? Don't judge my kinks.

The best part is that I'm considering it.  

[brothermyncroft]

Fanfic for Ripley Bogle and the gal he meets at the soup kitchen, preferably of the smut variety. I'm dead serious.

I don't know if we can be friends now that I know this about you.  It may have to end right here.

[brothermyncroft]

all right friends, i'm going to start on this destiel fic request now, so if you have any additional requests for it or another, or have motivational donations of any porny kinds, do send them along, anonymously or not ;)