#I write things

[bebx]

Squid Game 3

anyway, guess who said fuck it and literally wrote a whole fic where one of the guards had enough and deadass told in-ho he was obsessed with gi-hun. and and and realization finally hit gi-hun and my guy went "is the front man in love with me?"

read it here my lovelies;

if I love you, is that a fact or a weapon?

Relationship: Hwang Inho/Seong Gihun

Summary:

One of the Pink Soldiers has had enough and finally snaps at In-ho. Then Gi-hun comes to a rather shocking realization about the Front Man.

[pluckyredhead]

for the snippet commentary ask:

[But there were some weeks that Roy moved a little slower, talked a little softer. Weeks that he poked at the food on his plate, listless and uninterested. Jason knew those were the times that the past reared up inside of Roy and awakened cravings that no food could satisfy.

It wasn’t physiological, Jason knew. He’d done plenty of research on addiction: first as a grieving child searching for ways he could have saved his mother, if only he’d known how, and then again when he and Roy had started living out of each other’s pockets. It wasn’t the ghost of heroin a decade past curbing Roy’s appetite. It was just depression, as if that “just” made it any less pernicious.

They were in one of Jason’s safe houses in Gotham, and the black cloud had been hanging over Roy’s head for days. Now it was nearly two p.m., and Roy was still in bed. Neither of them were early risers, given the late night demands of the vigilante lifestyle, but this was late even for them.

Jason frowned into the open pantry. Roy had barely eaten anything yesterday. “Nothing tastes good right now,” he’d said with a shrug when Jason had pressed.

Jason took out flour, baking powder, and salt, and got to work.

Maybe it was the smell that finally coaxed Roy out of his room, or maybe it was just good timing, but he emerged right as Jason was turning the first piece over to cook on the other side.

“Is that fry bread?” Roy asked, sounding bewildered.

“Sit down,” Jason said. Roy obeyed, watching him in silence as the oil sizzled in the pan.

When the bread was golden on both sides, Jason laid it out on paper towels to drain and sprinkled it generously with cinnamon sugar. He carefully put a second piece in the oil before bringing the plate over to Roy.

“I can’t believe you made fry bread,” Roy said, a little line between his brows. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

Jason knew that. Roy had reminisced enough times about burning his fingers on fry bread right out of the pan that Jason could picture it: little Roy, big-eared and sunburned, fingers and cheeks sticky with cinnamon sugar or honey as he angled for another piece.

But all he said was “You gonna eat it or what?”]

IT SAID 500 WORDS OR LESS & I EXPLOITED THAT I KNOWWWWW i just love this entire part soooo much tho

Lol taxing the ask character count to the UTMOST, I respect it!

But there were some weeks that Roy moved a little slower, talked a little softer. Weeks that he poked at the food on his plate, listless and uninterested. Jason knew those were the times that the past reared up inside of Roy and awakened cravings that no food could satisfy.

My inspiration for Roy's depression comes mostly from this heartbreaking page in Outsiders #45 (2003 series):

(The other major source is, of course, his attempt at suicide by Killer Croc in RHATO.)

Roy is an extrovert who is very very good at masking, so the fact that he's even letting Jason see the depression - something he doesn't do for anyone else but Dinah and arguably Dick, although that was more PTSD than depression - is significant all on its own. He can let his guard down with Jason.

It wasn’t physiological, Jason knew. He’d done plenty of research on addiction: first as a grieving child searching for ways he could have saved his mother, if only he’d known how, and then again when he and Roy had started living out of each other’s pockets. It wasn’t the ghost of heroin a decade past curbing Roy’s appetite. It was just depression, as if that “just” made it any less pernicious.

Jason, meanwhile, is going to quietly do research on addiction and recovery and never actually say anything out loud to Roy. (Fun fact: Ollie did this in canon. What's that thing about how we gravitate to partners who are similar to our parents?)

They were in one of Jason’s safe houses in Gotham, and the black cloud had been hanging over Roy’s head for days. Now it was nearly two p.m., and Roy was still in bed. Neither of them were early risers, given the late night demands of the vigilante lifestyle, but this was late even for them. Jason frowned into the open pantry. Roy had barely eaten anything yesterday. “Nothing tastes good right now,” he’d said with a shrug when Jason had pressed.

Some of this may also be related to my own experiences with depression, as someone who usually loves food.

Jason took out flour, baking powder, and salt, and got to work. Maybe it was the smell that finally coaxed Roy out of his room, or maybe it was just good timing, but he emerged right as Jason was turning the first piece over to cook on the other side. “Is that fry bread?” Roy asked, sounding bewildered. “Sit down,” Jason said. Roy obeyed, watching him in silence as the oil sizzled in the pan. When the bread was golden on both sides, Jason laid it out on paper towels to drain and sprinkled it generously with cinnamon sugar. He carefully put a second piece in the oil before bringing the plate over to Roy.

I've never actually had fry bread so I read a bunch of recipes and watched some YouTube tutorials, trying to find recipes from Navajo cooks especially. Now I really want it but I'm intimidated by deep frying.

I always write Roy with a sweet tooth, hence Jason going for a cinnamon sugar finish instead of savory. Also, I love writing Roy catching Jason doing An Affection and Jason retreating behind grumpily barking orders. NO ONE CAN KNOW THAT HE LOVES ROY. ESPECIALLY NOT ROY.

“I can’t believe you made fry bread,” Roy said, a little line between his brows. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

Roy does NOT know how to respond to being taken care of. I love his relationship with Ollie but I always headcanon it as being pretty much a partnership of equals even when Roy was 10, i.e. they were equally immature. Ollie was his best friend but he was not cooking Roy's favorite foods.

Jason knew that. Roy had reminisced enough times about burning his fingers on fry bread right out of the pan that Jason could picture it: little Roy, big-eared and sunburned, fingers and cheeks sticky with cinnamon sugar or honey as he angled for another piece. But all he said was “You gonna eat it or what?”

GREAT JOB, MAN OF MYSTERY, YOU HID YOUR FEELINGS IMPECCABLY.

[erbodd]

Dark Enlightenment

Dark Enlightenment Chapters: 9/11 Fandom: Shining (Sweden Band), Bandom Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Niklas Kvarforth/Christian Larsson, Christian Larsson/Niklas Kvarforth, Erik Danielsson/Niklas Kvarforth, Niklas Kvarforth/Erik Danielsson, Rainer Tuomikanto/Christian Larsson, Christian Larsson/Rainer Tuomikanto, Niklas Kvarforth/Original Female Character(s), Niklas Kvarforth/Christian Larsson/Erik Danielsson Characters: Niklas Kvarforth, Christian Larsson, Andreas Larsen, Original Female Character(s), Peter Huss, Ulvhedin Hoest, Kristian "Gaahl" Espeda, Erik Danielsson, Rainer Tuomikanto Additional Tags: Masturbation, Light Dom/sub, Orgasm Edging, Consensual Harm, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Knifeplay, Blood Kink, Consensual, Mental Health Issues, Group Sex, Minor Violence, Come Swallowing, Master/Pet, Friends With Benefits, Ritual Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Aggression, Strangulation, Hallucinations, Threesome - M/M/M, Dom/sub

Summary: I don’t think I can. Whatever we had is destroyed and I can’t imagine it would really get better. I can’t trust you anymore.

[divider created by @astrumaur]

[irontinystar]

“You cut your hair” Sam eventually decides to say, and can feel Bucky's eyes immediately setting on him.

“You sure have eyes like a falcon.”

The clap back makes Sam roll his eyes, as he tries to hide a laughter by clearing his throat. “I’m serious” he states.

Bucky raises one eyebrow. “I think it’s obvious that I cut my hair.”

(…)

“Why did you cut it?” he asks.

There is a moment of silence, then Bucky shrugs. “Kept gettin’ in my face” he replies.

Sam knows damn well that is not the real reason, but Bucky doesn’t even make it seem like he wants to elaborate any further, so he pretends to accept that answer.

“Yeah, I think the long hair didn’t suit you anymore” he says casually. “It gave you such a brooding look, man, while now you’re so lively and approachable.” He’s sure the mocking tone will reward him with a scowl from Bucky, but the man actually surprises him with a small chuckle.

Read the rest on ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63368188

[iamdispleased]

the sonnet of pokotho

find innocents lost within hollow masks—

their minds are caged and mocked by past freedoms.

tried to escape, but there’s no hidden paths,

left to haunt their own bodies, skinned and numb.

performance is now wrapped in quotations—

it’s poisoned, but they’ll die in the spotlight.

a selfish guise to strike inspiration,

then learn the world’s now a stage plagued by fright.

conduct a life rotten by the sirens—

will a song be the war cry of mundane,

or will the calling of one voice fail them,

leaving them with inevitable fates?

first, ask the coward, he’ll say that he wants

for his wife to choke him while he jerks off.

[redlegumes]

Dec 8th: Dead Give Away, Innit?

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles

prompt: Idiots to Lovers | AO3: link | wc: 861 | rating: G | cw: none | tags: Wayne POV, first kiss, oblivious

Summary: Wayne is tired of Steve and Eddie, beating around the bush. It's obvious that when their 'kids' ask them to host a holiday party together they're ready for these two to get together too.

❆˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗❆

Wayne ducked his head out of the kitchen to see Eddie struggling, arms full ,trying to get through their small home’s door. He was about to help when he saw a familiar tan hand and scarred wrist help his nephew. Steve Harrington, back again.

Wayne waited a beat and then headed out after them. Eavesdropping was something he rarely did around Eddie, the boy deserved his privacy, but… he was curious what the two were up to this time. He hung back a little, listening to the young men while standing just inside the front door.

continues after the cut

He didn’t quite hear what Eddie said but he caught Steve’s reply.

“No, this time Max called.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she wanted to make sure we weren’t just ‘throwing it together’ last minute.”

“What a little ingrate,” Eddie exclaimed.

Wayne cracked the door open and watched as Steve leaned in toward Eddie, startling him into a low chuckle. “You love her.”

“You… no, you ‘Mama’ Harrington,” Eddie said, poking Steve in the chest, inches away from his face now. “You know, that’s what they call you.”

Wayne held his breath. Is this it?

Steve stepped back. “I guess I’ve got a reputation to uphold. So you better be bringing your ‘a’ game Eddie.”

“Sports ref-”

Wayne exhaled and stepped outside into the chill, Indiana winter air. Idiots. “-what’s all this now boys?”

Steve waved, and Eddie grinned before picking his gear back up. “The kids insisted we host a holiday party for them,” he huffed, loading an amp and his guitar into the back of the van.

“Yeah, very specific that we head it up,” Steve added, grimacing. “I don’t know why. I mean I’ve thrown some parties but-”

“Oh, really Stevie?”

Wayne folded his arms over his chest as he watched his boy hip check the always well groomed Harrington, slightly throwing him off balance. He also watched as the blush covered the young man’s face, and groaned lightly. The two had been fawning over each other, teasing, and then pulling back every time it looked like they might be finally getting somewhere. It’d been like that since April, and Wayne had just about had his fill.

Steve had already won him over. Harrington wasn’t given a free pass just for saving his nephew’s life, but in the following months he’d proven to be no fair weather friend to the Munsons. He shepherded those kids Eddie cared about too back and forth to physical therapy and just about anywhere else they begged him to. Steve would put on a show, all put upon, but Wayne saw the protective glint in his eye and the smile he hid every time he was ‘pressed’ to help them out. Steve was good people. But tripping over his tongue in front of Eddie was getting a little old.

Wayne suspected their extended friend group felt the same way if Steve and Eddie had been pushed to plan a holiday celebration together.

“The ‘Hair’ and his masterful party skills squandered on a lil event for a group of sophomores,” Eddie wheedled.

“Hey,” Steve protested. “And us, and Robin, she’s bringing Vickie. Jonathan and Nancy will be back in town, your DnD guys-”

“-my bandmates-”

“-both.” Steve tugged on one of Eddie’s curls. “It’s not just the kids.”

Wayne shifted his weight, fighting the urge to light up a cigarette. This has gone on long enough. “So, it sounds like you two are planning. Are the other older teens bringing anything to help out? You know, the couples other than you two. Decorations? Food?”

Steve blinked slowly. “Um, Everyone is bringing white elephant gifts. I recommended they bring snacks and drinks, but I don’t expect anyone to so I make sure to have plenty.”

“Who all is dating who now,” Wayne asked as casually as possible. If these two knuckleheads are going to keep being dense I might as well act oblivious. “I know the redhead is with Sinclair. But I never seem to know who Hopper’s kid is or isn’t seeing. And your Robin is seeing the Carmichael girl.” Steve was mouthing words without sound. Eddie had frozen where he stood. “But I suppose they wanted you two to host since you're the ones who have been together the longest and are still in town.”

Eddie’s face steadily turned bright scarlet. “What would, Wayne, what… Steve and me?”

“Aw, don’t worry none boy.” Eddie’s jaw dropped. “What,” Wayne chuckled, “was it supposed to be a secret? Jeez, you both doing this holiday get together is a bit of a dead give away innit?”

Steve’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Dustin, it was Dustin’s suggestion, and then everyone said we should…”

“Hmmm?” Wayne chose not to catch what he was saying. “Well, my two cents, if you care, is don’t get too worried about making it all perfect. Make sure you both have a good time too.” Wayne turned back to the house to hide his smile. “And don’t forget the mistletoe.”

…

Wayne parted the blinds a few minutes later to catch a quick glimpse of Steve and Eddie wrapped up in each other, kissing as flurries began to fall.

Finally.

2023 RedLegumes Steddiemas 1 2 3 4 5 6 10 SteddieHolidayDrabbles 1 2 3 4 6 8 9 10

[impossibleobservationkryptonite]

How I learned to be a better librarian, or at least how to be a professional librarian

There's a lot of stuff that they don't teach you in library school, on how to be a librarian. It's stuff that you just have to learn on your own. And the professors tell you that to an extent. But I don't know if you're like me, I didn't really believe them until I started my job. They tell you really, that this is for the betterment of becoming a librarian, but working in a library is different than learning about it in a classroom.

One thing that I learned is that, hey I can have a very loud voice when necessary. I learned that as I was yelling over the roar of the children's department "NO RUNNING PLEASE." And the kids stopped running for the most part. (I'd still say it if they kept doing it.) I also realized that you're allowed to talk in normal tones at the library. You're allowed to use a regular "inside talking voice" rather than whispers. I'm a librarian; I'm not gonna rat you out to your parents if you ask me where Colleen Hoover is (I will however give you different suggestions based on wanting Colleen Hoover books.). Just please tell it to me in a normal voice. (I also found out I sound like my older sister when I speak loudly. Which is something I'm filing away for my future therapist at a later date.)

They don't tell you how to deal with any patrons in person. Patrons are fun to interact with normally. They give you different ideas of what they want, and what they're looking for. I once got to help a patron looking for a specific photograph of the Rockettes and pizza. (Ask me about him! He's awesome!) I had to deal with a patron who was scanning her books (trying to), and would look back at me each time one didn't scan, and tell me that they didn't scan. Not asking me what to do, not asking if there's another way to do this, just telling me that they wouldn't scan. I stood up and scanned one with the library's specific barcode (she was using the ISBN barcode one), and handed it to her as it came up on the screen. She huffed and re-scanned everything. Was that petty? a little. Not too worried about it though because this was the third time she and I talked about how to scan books at the self-check desk.

You learn everything you need to know on the job. It's interesting that getting a master's is required to become a professional librarian. And it's immediate. You get thrown right in with the patrons, your coworkers, how to create booklists, how to curate passive programs. It's just interesting that this is required. I'm happy I went to library school.

I've realized that, as a librarian, you kind of just are there. You're a person who fades into the background until a patron has a question for you. And obviously, the most asked question for us is "Will you watch my kids for me while I grab my books?" That answer will always be no. Why are you leaving your children with a stranger (me. Your kids don't know me, and I don't know them. There are 50 other kids in this room, how do I know which is which?)?

I cannot stress this enough. Invest in a journal. I just invested in another one. It keeps me rather sane in the times of bootyholes and punches. It also helped with school, and me writing down ideas of stuff that I want to do at my job. So that way I don't forget and can work on it when I'm at actual work.

I also learned that your boss isn't going to tell you what you can do. I mean they will, but you can also definitely just do some of the things they don't explicitly tell you that you can't do. I started a passive program where I put all of the Where's Waldo characters taped up throughout the department, and when the kids asked about them I told them they get to rehide waldo and his friends. The only rule was waldo et al. couldn't go into trash cans nor could they go into bags going home. They also did not have to tell us where they hid them. It's been about two years, so it's about that time that I reprint Waldo and Friends and do it all again.

Scavenger hunts are your best friends. They are deceptively easy. The kids get a sticker for completing it. And they also get to see different parts of the room that they're in regularly. It helps them learn about different parts of the library, and is fantastic.

[atharfi]

I made a thing! Because Big Bad Con Online happened and I came away from it with my brain on fire, and now I have to subject you all to the end result.

SPITE is a solo journaling game based on the Wretched and Alone and Breathless SRDs, and utilising the Twist mechanic from the Second Guess System. 

In this game, you're trying to defeat the creature that smiles at you from your reflection, no matter the cost. If you let It, It will eat your Past, your Present, and your Future.

Unless you eat them first. 

You can find it here on itch.io, free to download and play! If you do, I'd love to hear about your experience.

[bbreaddog]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love. ❤️

Five fics by lil ol’ me, recced by also me:

Withering Heights | Alex/Henry (RWRB) | T | 2.2k | 1/1

“What on God’s earth do you think you’re doing?” Alex hides his hands behind his back and purses his lips together. He doesn’t laugh. And if he does, it’s only because Henry puts a hand on his chest and shoves him away, effectively forcing the sound out of him. “Funny, is it?” Henry hisses, hurriedly pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket. Alex bites down on his lip in an attempt to stop his grin from spreading wider. It does nothing of the sort.

New Year Regrets | Luke/Reggie (JATP) | M | 2.1k | 1/1

“What the hell is that?” Alex demands. Act casual. Be natural.  “Yeah, Reg,” Luke smirks. Reggie’s blood runs cold. “What the hell did you do to me?” Alex rounds on him. “You did this?” “Did what?” comes Julie’s voice, and Reggie instinctively scans the studio for cover. Julie stops in the doorway, staring at Luke. “What the hell is that?”

officially diagnosed with adhd!!! | White House Trio (RWRB) | G | 200 | 1/1

A officially diagnosed with adhd!!!! irl chaos demon CONGRATS BUG Aw yay! We truly are related A what OR: In which June & Nora dunk on Alex in The White House Trio group chat after he receives his ADHD diagnosis

King of Your Heart | Willie/Alex (JATP) | M | 17.4k | 10/?

Willie’s life is constantly in motion, and he’s never wanted it any other way. He doesn’t know how he could function any other way. But right now he sees nothing but blue sea as he sits on his perch, and the endless nothingness is making him incredibly nauseated. - That is, until an enemy ship shows up and Willie finds himself stranded with the most annoyingly handsome guy he's ever met. OR: Romantic Willie/Alex with a side of platonic die-hard Willie/Bobby

Played It To The Beat | Julie & Alex, minor Willex (JATP) | G | 1.5k | 1/1

Julie has been desperately searching for songs to add to a playlist for what she’s been calling an anniversary party for Flynn, which isn’t for what Alex thought it was going to be.

[ijustreallylovedaredevil]

Hi. I just wanted to tell you how much your disabled obi wan series means to me as someone who has multiple disabilities. here's what i love about it:

a. people with disabilities still existing in the future, being accommodated but not cured.

b. the people around him taking care of him even when it's not convenient.

c. saving the galaxy! right now my disabilities kind of just suck. and so it's nice to think that maybe there's another world out there where, by some strange coincidence, what on a normal day is annoying could actually be perfectly what's needed.

anyway, i'm mostly writing just for appreciation, but i did have a question if you didn't mind! which is why i'm sending this to tumblr instead of as a comment on ao3.

i think i've read most of your writing by now and i've definitely read everything in the series. are there other writers that you would recommend that treat disability as kindly as you do? (it doesn't have to be star wars). i never know how to find works like that because sometimes people write in the disability tags and they're trying but it's not the same as something really well thought out and caring like your fics. and i do like re-reading but i also like new stuff sometimes.

no worries if you don't know or can't think of anything. i just wanted to ask in case you did?

this ask has a special place in my heart and will remain there until the end of time. <3

I don't have a huge number of authors to recommend. the ones I am suggesting I have read varying amounts of their work, and thus can't vouch for all of it, but many of them are disabled themselves, which certainly helps. all of them can be found on AO3.

me, obvi

lux_arcana, who is my very good friend, and largely has SW fics

itsagoodthing (itzagoodthing) who has a very good mando series

princex_n, who I’ve mostly read severance fics from, but looks like they have a lot of other good fandoms as well (friend of a friend)

chemistRN has a really good avengers series that deals with clint being disabled

callistemon has a DELIGHTFUL epileptic matt murdock series that I adore

other things I can suggest are looking at bookmarks of your fav fics, because sometimes people who bookmark them will have other good fics bookmarked. and also looking at bookmarks of your fav authors.

hope this helps!

[bebx]

"I spent 3 years at sea, risked my life trying to get my brother back while you were getting laid," Jun-ho sounded very pissed. "I was not getting laid," In-ho said, hoping it didn't sound like an excuse. "Right. You were just searching for a tracker in Gi-hun's mouth with your tongue."

Chapter 3 of Us Three, an In-ho/Gi-hun fic (feat. a traumatized Jun-ho) is up now. Tap here to read :)

Us Three — Chapter 3

[pluckyredhead]

Okay hear me out: DC 10 Things I Hate About You AU. (I guess really it's a Taming of the Shrew AU but honestly fuck The Taming of the Shrew. Leave that shrew alone.)

No capes (although working capes into this somehow would be hilarious).

Bruce won't let Tim (freshman) date until Jason (sophomore) dates. He let Dick (senior) date as a freshman and it was a mistake, mostly because he had to listen to so. Much. Drama.

No one will date Jason because he is terrifying.

Kon (who has no money) wants to date Tim so Bart comes up with the brilliant idea that they get Bernard (who has money) to pay Roy (Dick's weird ex-junkie ex-friend who went to rehab for a while and isn't afraid of anything and also there are RUMORS about his BIG SECRET) to date Jason.

(The BIG SECRET is Lian. Roy is a Teen Dad.)

Bernard isn't the villain in this or anything he just has money.

Tim doesn't even particularly want to date anyone anyway. He's busy mousing around the linkfarm.

Maybe Kon and Bernard wind up dating???

Anyway then the plot of 10 Things I Hate About You happens, I don't have to explain this to you.

Damian is like 9 and a turbo brat to everyone all the time.

The "Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" scene is exactly the same.

[erbodd]

What if? - Happy New Year

This is a very short story that was inspired to me by @plusvanity 's latest fanfiction Clarity in Kerosene. I strongly recommend reading it, and especially if you want to better understand this short drabble.

The first part is @plusvanity 's part, the second is my view of what comes next.

Grabbing the bottle of wine he went out in the cold, behind the house to have a small break. He lit up a cigarette and took a long drag out of it, almost wishing he could choke on the vaporous poison again. Hit after hit, a gulp of red wine followed to drown the bitterness in his soul and take away the visceral truth that he held the title for the biggest idiot in the human species.

He couldn't even chuckle at the irony of it all. One time wanting to be there for his mother to repair their broken relationship and she couldn't fucking care less.

He could imagine Olve choking on his own spit from guffawing at the hopeless pit he dug for himself in unawareness. Only if the bassist knew the tragic comedy that Kristian won with his final denial. He could almost hear his good friend calling him an underdog for choosing motherly love instead of drugs and alcohol.

But when did Olve become a good friend? 

Kristian must've been out of sync with his own personal chronicles because he couldn't find the exact moment in which he allowed the bassist to climb up in rank. What a strange anomaly . He couldn't be thinking at that clown in his most crooked and vulnerable shape.

His mind shifted focus, eventually wondering what were the others doing while he was loathing his existence, hiding from plain sight in the darkness.

They must be living the time of their lives.

The sound of footsteps muffled by snow pulled him from his thoughts. In the darkness, he couldn’t quite make out who was walking but he was certain they were getting closer to his location. Holding the neck of the wine bottle firmly, he got ready to defend himself if needed but relaxed when he recognized him.

“What in the living Hell are you doing here?” “I felt something was off with your story, so I came to check if my hunch was correct.” Olve explained, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Why did you lie to me?”

Varg noted the use of “me” instead of “us”, showing how he was the only one who counted. He still replied, not in the mood for an argument.

“It was supposed to be just my mother and I tonight. I wanted to mend our relationship but she had organized this stupid party I knew nothing about and-” “And now you’re the idiot.” “Right.” he conceded before adding : “Asshole.” “Righteous.” he snorted. “Don’t you want to escape from this?” “I do, but then I’d only be digging my grave more.” “You really think it can get worse than her ignoring you like that, and I bet, treating you like a servant?”

Olve was shooting in the dark there, but Varg couldn’t keep a straight face, meaning he hit right.

“Come on! We’re having fun and I want you to be part of it. It’s not the same without you.”

What kind of confession was that, Varg wondered. Yet somehow, it echoed the one he made to himself mere minutes ago. Maybe Olve as well had grown into considering Varg a good friend and he wouldn’t be surprised about it. Giving one last look inside the house where he clearly wasn’t missed, he agreed. Olve’s face lit up and they went back to the party together.

Varg’s arrival was celebrated and soon, Varg had a beer in his hand and Olve’s arm on his shoulders. Plenty of drinks and weed later, it was getting close to midnight. Everyone moved naturally closer to their partner, and Varg noticed Olve came closer to him, somehow as expected. They were standing by the corner of the room, where Varg had more or less retreated.

“Ready to start the new year with a blast? I feel this one is going to be really good!”

Varg simply nodded. They all counted the seconds down together and come midnight, kisses were being exchanged. Varg felt his friend leaning closer and laying his chin on his shoulder.

“I’m not drunk enough to kiss you.” Varg flatly stated. “But I am.”

Those were his last words before he clumsily grabbed Varg’s chin and connected their lips. He was smiling as they parted.

“Happy new year.” “Fuck off!”

Varg pushed him away and looked at their friends with a slight panic, but no one seemed to have noticed them thankfully.

[divider created by @sisterlucifergraphics]

[irontinystar]

Bucky scoffs. “I know it’s bad” he states. He stares at him, his eyes are piercing. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

The bluntness in his words is almost aching. Sam looks down. He’s right, and it’s striking. There is no facade to put up when he’s with Bucky. He never even realised it until now. He doesn’t have to pretend to be the golden man everyone’s expecting him to be. He can be illogical, and quick-tempered, and vulnerable.

Here with Bucky he’s full of contradictions. He can say he never wants to speak to him again and then go mad looking for his glum blue eyes.

“I lost a friend. Decades ago” Sam confesses. He wonders how is he actually going to tell this story without breaking into an hysteric crying. “He fell, and I couldn’t catch him.” That’s it. That’s the tragedy of it all. One sentence, that’s what’s left of Riley.

Bucky listens in silence. He’s leaning on the table. “I’m sorry.”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, every time I think I got over it it shows up in my dreams again, so-“ he leans back on the chair and looks around the place just to avoid looking at Bucky.

“I know what you mean” Bucky says slowly. “There are things- some things I thought I was over. Turns out I’m not. The brain is a bastard machine.”

Sam genuinely chuckles this time. He finally turns to look at Bucky again. He’s smiling as well, it’s small but it’s there.

“There is no one to catch me either” Bucky murmurs after a moment. “In my dreams.” He looks down at his hands. He slightly waves the one connected to his vibranium arm. “That’s how I got this, you know.”

Sam nods, though Bucky is not looking at him. Bucky smiles again, but it’s sad, this time he doesn’t even try to hide it. “It’s not like the nightmare ends when I wake up.”

Looking at his hands laid on the table, Sam reaches out. If he took a moment to think about it, he would tell himself it’s a terrible idea, but it’s done before he’s even aware of what is happening. His hand falls to cover Bucky’s. He can tell Bucky is surprised, he keeps his head down. Still he lets Sam gently brush his fingers over his cold metal hand. Sam stares at their hands, can’t bring himself to look up. If he were to meet Bucky’s eyes, he has the feeling he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from falling either.

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[5t4r-b0y]