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pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 7 months ago

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hi miss L, i have a spiritual/religious question and i don't know anyone else who could answer it.... since i was a kid i've been attracted to tarot, spirituality, mystical explanations of the worlds workings, astrology, all that good stuff. i never used to connect my spirituality to a single higher power, and i never had any issues with this. for a few years i've been wanting more than just a disturbingly accurate tarot spread and i feel compelled towards god. i'm not sure how to word it honestly! i keep getting messages all around me telling me the saint that watches over me, and that god is there too. so here's my issue.

whenever i reach out and pray or do any kind of ritual or reach out specifically to god or a saint, my life immediately starts going haywire. yesterday i set up a small shrine in my room for my dead kitty since i've been feeling better about her passing and i prayed a little. i asked for sign that i was going in the right direction, and hours after i prayed, our sink plumbing got clogged, my cat (living) ran out and had to be caught, my mom dropped a whole bowl of food, and i wasn't able to pick up groceries bc the bank cards wouldnt work. this never happens in my household, we've been joking that we're cursed. this happens everytime i try to reach out to god. the worst time was when my mom lost her job, dad crashed his car, and i kept having panic attacks out of the blue for a week. i freaked out and took everything i said back and bathed in salt water for hours hoping i could cleanse whatever happened to me. it worked and my life was back to normal the next day.

do you have any advice? i would love to put my trust in a higher power as i've never been religious before, but smthn is going wrong somehow.

thank you for reading, i love seeing you on the dash and your music is so soothing and nostalgic. much love!! <3 <3 <3 <3

so sweet, and caring, thankyou u//u...im sorry things have been difficult :< The following message does not in any way endorse the claim that i understand God, that God could ever be understood, or that any one of us should every try to understand the -inner workings- of God ! purely my feelings v v v

i relate to ur background cus i grew up w no religion, my parents didnt talk about any kind of woo-woo stuff, my dads dad was woo-woo AF and my dad haaaaated it so he rejected all of it so i was pree much just a blank slate. but for some reason i was just REALLY obsessed w magical thinking and the like. believed in god spirits nature deities angels demons magic aliens and i was totaly engrossed in ~my secret world~. i was kinda scared of religion tho i viewed it in a bad light since i was learning about it during the george bush post-9/11 era & for some reason my child self was rly interested in consuming critique of america , iraq war / westboro baptist church type stuff , from an outsider's perspective i saw religion as something american people used as justification for committing atrocities & crazy power trips , which, i mean.. anyways

it didnt help me trust God xD but many of my beliefs remained into my teens i just didnt have any outlet for them. so i got into astrology around 15/16, started learning more about tarot & occultish type things, crytstals, all those subjects intrigued me very much. but i felt the same way as you, like, something was still lacking from it, even when i got these super profound tarot readings, or read my birth chart a million times over looking for clues about ~wtf is this stupid life for~ , i never felt safe. never felt assured, never felt i could trust myself or my future. it was an odd period, early 20s. but then kinda same as u, as my knowledge on these topics expanded i started to notice the quality of Holiness a lot more. the more i learned about different religions the more i realized how connected it all was, and how religion connects to "the occult", and magic, light and dark, i find it very hard to put into words. i just started to find myself actually really earnestly believing in God in a way i never thought i could? Like reading the bible & being completely enthralled, i NEVER woulda thought. i started to feel way safer in the world even tho im still not "christian" technicaly. but i believe in jesus now and it makes me feel safe on a cellular level.

i believe the real jesus was wholly non judgemental and loved everyone no matter what, the thing that susses me out about Religious Institutions was always the judgement that can spawn from it. misses the point of everrything in my opinion.

its kinda wild actually cus when i used to be into like, trash reality tv ghost hunting shows, i remember there was one ep where this psychic was talking about how she always prays to jesus for protection before doing a reading or entering a haunted place. that really intrigued me cus i thought jesus and psychic automatically cancelled each other out. i think that moment rly opened up the rabbitehole and it was so mundane like wtf. still rememebr it tho!

sorry im really in a typing mood tonight.. So my next point was gonna be that, just because i started to really believe in god and jesus and really PRAY for protection & guidance, my life did not get easier xD like i would say the past 6 years have been nothing short of a shit show. my life was fucked before that too tho so its hard to compare, but still, its safe to say my shift in perspective actually brought a lot of chaos into mylife. the point of it, i feel, is that i had to dismantle it in order to truly Live in the frequency of trusting God. because this was new to me! i wanted to trust God, i put out the energy of seeking God, and God was like ok hold on tight..

So now i'm here all these years later like, oh yeah God is real and i love him and it's all real. it's CEMENTED into me lol. When i used to say i trust God it still felt like i was asking permission to be able to feel that way. but now i really really do. And messed up stuff will keep happening forever because there needs to be light & dark, there can't b one without the other. But now i have faith in a really personal way that i wld never attempt to transfer onto another like even by talking about these experiences & concepts i still feel like i don't want to prove anything. except that it's worth it to keep trying, i guess :]

and OK this is really just how i feel like take it with a grain of salt , but from what i've gathered, if you believe in energy entities & astral happenings & whatnot, well. it's my opinion that the invisible low frequency parasites that feed on many ppl's dread & fear, when they're attached to u and u begin to raise your vibration, they get very upset and throw a fit. like think of a demon being exorcised, u know, u imagine it having a total fit in a desperate fight for it's life. if ur appeasing the demon and letting it use you then of course it's going to keep things on an even keel, u kno?

taking a salt bath was a good thing to do tho like one of the best things <3 its also good to have crosses or your holy item of choice around the house, light white candles, organize clutter. pray a lot like every time u feel happy and safe or notice something beautiful say thanku to God.. talk to your angels and encourage them i pray a lot specifically to strengthen them, upgrade their armor n shih...i ask them to work for my loved ones, i try to be concentrated on them, visualize them around me all the time, visualize them standing guard outside every door. i feel this kinda stuff increases ur Holy EXP and over time your spiritual armor gets stronger, bad entities move on and things in life start really flow. the trust just has to b there first, and it will be, so long as u allow it <3

it just takes time, and like i said i dont want to prove anything or be The Convincer, but if u were already having feelings to go down this path i recommend not giving up and let God carry u through those tough situations instead of seeing them as an absence of God or God's Wrath. just keep praying cus it can't hurt right, even if it's just a way to occupy your mind with kind thoughts about your friends and family, there's no downside to prayer. its your own journey so u just gotta live it and feel it out ^^ but pls dont feel u are being punished by God or demons or anything else! So many "bad" things that happen end up being neutral or even "good" in the long run. We can never foresee the reasoning behind God's plan ~~~

yeah, this was a long one, wow...i drank a energy drink 12 hours ago i think it made me hyper.. well have a swell evening if ur reading this anon!! o also i liek to listen to psalms before bed to help me feel calm i feel like it helps bring in angels. i think i will do so now, thanks for the Q i hope things improve for u very soon. Good night anon < 3 3 3 PMD 9

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chiefwritesbook · 1 year ago

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Writeblr Q&A

I have been tagged by @scifimagpie (ty for tag) so I shall attempt to answer these questions lezzgo

1. What motivates you to write?

The soup brain has too many thoughts & I have to get them out. Also spite because my asshole 8th grade English teacher said my writing assignment was only worth a C (he was the ONLY one btw I got consistently vv high grades before him) & my Chinese immigrant friend got marked down for not being good at English. Fuck you Mr English teacher

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

(idk have this one from early chapter 2 I guess)

“You mean to say that I was bait,” Talin said.

“Not the word I would use, but in a way, yes,” Red Wolf confessed.

“Why?”

“You have been on the throne for less than a year. If someone wants you dead this quickly, something is amiss. I’d like to find out what.”

3. Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

My boy Red Wolf. He's just...yes. Autistic werewolf puppy. Could definitely kill me without hesitation or talk me to death with weapons knowledge. I would thank him if he punched me.

4. What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

I like not writing.

5. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Worldbuilding, no doubt. I am simultaneously the best and worst at worldbuilding. You want a 2000-word essay on how languages & regional dialects evolved over time? I gotchu covered no problem. Want me to stop elaborating on how Hellhound magic is linked to the moon & actually write my sequels? Absolutely not.

6. What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

I think the writeblr community is chill. Like y'all are just here for a good time and I can 100% respect that & get behind it. I get to write unhinged answers to these questions & not feel bad about it bc I don't have to self-impose ridiculous societal concepts such as 'maintain a professional image on social media'.

7. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Scrivener? Am I allowed to say Scrivener even though I use at most like 2% of their features. I am the kind of person who if given nothing but a notes app & a two-hour uni class to sit through will hammer out a full chapter in those two hours instead of paying any attention to class. On the other hand if you want me to actually write during my free time I'm sorry I'm too busy procrastinating writing with art & procrastinating art with gaming.

8. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

This is not a wise question to ask me (see: question 5) unless the goal was to make me sit here for ten minutes typing out an entire essay's worth of worldbuilding word vomit, in which case well played. However for the sake of my own free time & sanity:

The legal system in Kies Tor is probably the single greatest thing I've ever constructed & it plays a crucial part in the plot & was built off the early British/European court system as well as my own special interests in law & criminology. In short it's trying its best but it's also deeply fucked up and I love making the fucked up parts fuck up my characters.

9. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Don't feel pressured to write. If you're staring at the same thing for weeks/months on end of course it's gonna get stale. Heck this Q&A post is the most I've written in weeks.

10. Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

@witch-king-of-angstmar ofc (no pressure to answer tho) but other than that I never know who to tag. I have social anxiety what is an interacting. If you see this on your dash consider yourself tagged

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yong-bokk · 3 years ago

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all in ¹

pairing: special agent ! han jisung x reader

genre: frenemies to idiots to lovers fluff with a dash of sad

warnings: mentions of drug dealing and someone got shot

u are !! angry !!

scratch that

u are ヽ(｀⌒´メ)ノFURIOUS!!! ヽ(｀⌒´メ)ノ

ur pen magically disappeared from your pen holder. AGAIN

and this time it’s the new carrot-shaped one you just bought

٩( •̀ㅇ•́ )۶ ٩( •̀ㅇ•́ )۶ ٩( •̀ㅇ•́ )۶

u don’t need to be a detective to figure out the culprit behind this

bc it’s who else other than,,,,

“HAN JISUNG”

hyunjin, putting on his earphones: “here we go again”

“yes, love?”

GOD u wish u could wipe that cute stupid smile off his cute face

“STOP. STEALING. MY PENS.”

(○｀д´)ﾉｼ Σ(っﾟДﾟ)っ

u’re going to sue chan

why chan, u ask

bc “bickering with han jisung daily” was definitely not part of the contract he gave u when u decided to join the skz criminal investigation division

but here u are

shooting glares at the special agent sitting at his table across yours, filling in paperwork with your carrot pen

and that’s just how everyday is

he teases you all the time and takes ur things

you take revenge by stealing from his ‘secret’ lollipop stash

“STOP. STEALING. MY CANDIES.”

you, popping one into your mouth: “i literally don’t know what you’re talking about, love”

(ง •̀_•́)ง “u come near my babies again and i’ll FIGHT u”

he says that

but jisung always buys more of your favourite flavour

he'd rather quit than admit that to you though !!

the two of you bicker 24/7

and everyone else just wants you two to shut up and kiss

i mean

it’s not like u two hated each other or anything

hate is a strong word

and deep down the two of u know it’s all just friendly banter

and u know this because

there was this one time

u had to stay up late to catch up on the biggest pile of paperwork u’ve been procrastinating on

at god-knows-what-o’clock u decided to rest ur eyes

just close them for a couple of minutes,, right? (◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍)

wrong!

u ended up closing them for a good HOUR before waking up and realising that u

one: did NOT finish the pile of work u promised chan u’d hand him that day

and two: overslept and is most definitely very, very late to a very important meeting

u wanted to cry but fuck u didn’t even have the TIME to cry

just when u thought ur day couldn’t get worse

it suddenly rained hard when u were just 5 minutes away from the office

( ◞‸◟)

sorry reader

that day was just /not/ ur day

u stepped into the office shivering like one of minho’s kittens after a bath, drenched from head to toe and creating mini puddles wherever u stand

u barely sat down when jisung threw something at u

honestly u were about to yell at him but then u saw

?????

he threw u his hoodie

and sweatpants

and also the warmest towel

and u just sat there staring at him bc ur last half of a braincell was: surprised

“hurry up and go change before u catch a cold, dummy”

u would’ve smacked him for calling u a dummy on any other day

but u made ur way to the restroom and changed

jisung’s hoodie felt way better than the soaked dress shirt you had on

it he smelled nice too

u’ll never know how chaotic his heart became when he saw u waddle back to ur desk looking like the absolute love of his life in his clothes

han jisung on the outside: ₍ᐢ._.ᐢ₎

han jisung on the inside: ⁄(⁄ ⁄>⁄ ㅅ⁄<⁄ ⁄)⁄ AKJSDFSDFASKDJ

u also don’t know this but han went to chan that day and asked him to let u off the hook for being late that day

he also asked for half of your paperwork

but this one u found out

bc u bumped into him walking towards chan’s office holding a stack of paper with a bright yellow post-it on top of it

and your name written on said post-it

“is that,,, my paperwork?”

…………

“,,,,no?”

“han jisung”

“alrightyeahmaybe…..”

“u-u did my paperwork for me?” (˃̣̣̥^˂̣̣̥`)

“don’t think too much of it, i was uh- i was just bored WAIT WHY ARE U CRYINGKSJDF”

that was a one-time thing

but yeah u definitely don’t hate jisung

and u’re pretty sure he doesn’t hate u too

even if u purposefully annoy each other on a daily basis

“i hate paperwork”

“yn if u say that one more fucking time i SWEAR-”

“u’ll do it for me?” (◕ᴗ◕`)

“U WISH”

:(((((

hyunjin: “okay shut up lovebirds. i have good news and bad news, which one do u want to hear first”

“good….?”

“good news !! you don’t have to do paperwork”

＾ワ＾) “and why is that?”

“bang chan is assigning u on another undercover case”

“that’s not bad news hyun-“

“-with jisung”

＾ワ＾) ?????!?!???!?!?!WHAT

u physically can’t even be together with jisung for longer than 2,5 seconds without start bickering with each other

what does he MEAN chan is assigning u two on an undercover case

“which part of ‘i’m assigning u and jisung on an undercover case’ do u not get”

“IT’S LIKE U DON’T EVEN KNOW US CHAN”

“listen . it’s a one-shot mission and i’m sure the two of u won’t fuck up. me assigning two of my best agents for this case is a well-thought decision”

( ´•︵•` )

ok so the case

a new club recently opened in town

and it’s currently the most popular one bc the owner is a very famous millionaire and has his famous guests over all of the time

however

there has been a couple of reports asking the officials to check for some suspicious activities going on inside

the reports seemed valid considering how details from different sources matched with each other

but the police can’t just barge in and do a thorough check

bc the one who owns the club is kind of a big deal

so ;—;

u and jisung

dressed up in the prettiest fanciest celebrity-like fits u own

in u go

it didn’t take the two of u long before u gathered up information

all u had to do now is catch them in the act and get rock solid evidence

it was supposed to be a simple fishy drug trade in a very fancy club’s private bathroom

from one of the stalls u got clear view of everything happening

but u weren’t paying attention

one second u were done sending the pictures to hyunjin

the next second u heard jisung yell ur name and suddenly someone’s on the ground ( ｡ _ ｡ )

turns out that someone barged in, attempting to shoot u but jisung got to him first

but they both didn’t miss

jisung took a bullet to his shoulder instead of u

from then on

ur body autopiloted and everything else was a blur

u helped him apply pressure on the wound as u requested help

guilt swallowed u whole when u saw him wince a little bc he thought u weren’t looking :((

the ambulance came and chan and hyunjin followed not long after

u just let them move jisung onto the stretcher and followed silently, not letting go of his hand

:(( jisung thinks seeing u like this hurts more than his wound does

“it’s okay, i’m okay. it’s not ur fault, yn”

he gave u a smile and squeezed ur hand but u know he’s just saying that bc he doesn’t want u to feel bad and worry

if it weren’t for bang chan asking u to stay for a couple of statements,

u would’ve gotten into the ambulance with jisung

(๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑)

but u went to the hospital right after

u waited outside during the surgery and u saw him for a little while when he was still asleep

u haven’t seen him again since then

the next few days jisung was in the hospital, everything felt so… empty

the office felt so empty without jisung

u didn’t even know why u kept staring at his table

it wasn’t like he was going to pop out of nowhere

but (´•̥ ᵔ •̥`) u wish he would

hyunjin followed u everywhere and made sure to drag u away from paperwork for breaks and lunch

felix made u ur favourite batch of cookies in hopes u’ll cheer up

lee know even came in with two bags full of ur favourite snacks

“he’s not dead, yn”

but u know he was worried too

the office was just so gloomy without jisung

u can’t believe u’re saying this but u miss him

u miss bickering with him

u miss his stupid laugh when u yell out his name

u’d even let him steal all ur good pens if it means he’s going to be okay and come back

by the end of the week, chan finally had enough

“yn u know u can’t keep doing this to urself”

“do what”

“come on, if there was one thing u hate the most it’s paperworks and u've been throwing urself into that without a single complaint.. it’s honestly quite concerning”

･o･ “u… called me in bc i wasn’t complaining about paperworks?”

“we both know why u’re here >: and i’m not talking to u as ur chief, i’m talking to u as a friend >: ”

……..

“i just miss him so much…. and it’s my fault, chan, it’s my fault he got hurt like that and he kept saying that he’s okay but-“

u felt bad for bursting out to chan like that but he was the one who cornered u first so >:

u walked out of chan’s office eyes puffy and although the others probably heard, u still hoped they don’t see u like this

u were about to dash for the restroom and hide there until ur eyes de-puff but

“i didn’t know u’d miss me this much”

???

?!@#$*(!@#$)!&@#%

u whipped ur head so fast and there han jisung was wearing his cute stupid smile

normally u would’ve thought of a snarky comeback already

but seeing him there right in front of u after a whole jisungless week

and after ur little breakdown session with chan

u couldn’t help but burst into tears again and hugged him like he was going to disappear if u didn’t hold him tight enough ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚

jisung bit his lip to hold back a wince but couldn’t help and let out a little hiss when u bumped into the bandage on his shoulder

“i-i’m sorry”

u pulled away a little feeling bad for hurting him but he had u in his arms once again, holding u just as tight

“i’m perfectly fine, see? i’m not going anywhere, u can’t get rid of me that fast”

(´ •̥◡•̥ `) jisung smiled so wide when he heard ur tiny giggle

his babey ! no longer sad !

god knows how long the two of u stayed there hugging

until u heard someone clear their throat

that someone being chan

“i’m sorry but can u hug somewhere else, i really need to go”

bonus:

“wait u’re already discharged from the hospital?” (• . • ?)

“i heard u missed me and i can’t let my baby miss me any longer”

“han jisung-“

“i mean, i can’t say i didn’t miss u too-“

“U STILL HAVE UR HOSPITAL BRACELET ON U DID U RUN AWAY?????!!!!”

“……..i? discharged? myself?”

hhhHHHHhhhhh

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navytaxi · 3 years ago

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tiktok is so evil and addictive and I need to come back home to tumblr but also my dash is so dead now bc most of the blogs I used to follow remade/stopped posting during the time I was inactive and so I only see like a rate of one post per hour😶

#i cant just follow random blogs that’s too risky #i cant trust them like I trust my mutuals🤧

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wkemeup · 6 years ago

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Soldat

summary: When a hydra agent finds a way to hack into FRIDAY’s system to trigger Bucky into the winter soldier, he nearly kills you. In the aftermath, he can’t begin to find a way to forgive himself. Not without your help.

pairing: bucky x reader

word count: 7,022

warnings: wintersoldier!bucky, self-hating!bucky, physical fights, lots of comfort and soft!bucky 🌸

author’s note: So this is my first time writing for bucky and naturally I go for the angst/comfort fic bc thats where my twisted soul is happiest. I’d love to hear what you thought if you read it!

Your back slammed heavy against the floor of the ring. It was the third time in as many minutes that you’d been thrown off your feet. You huffed the hair from your eyes, pursing your lips in a frown as you stared up at the man responsible for the current ache pulsing through your shoulders. Bucky shook his head, chuckling as dark hair swayed over his eyes.

“You’re getting soft, doll.”

“It’s an off day,” you grumbled. “You try sparring with a super solider the day after getting back from a month-long mission in Guatemala.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Bucky turned his back to you as he reached for the water bottle sitting on the edge of the ring. His first mistake. You flipped onto your stomach, crawling along the mat until he stood close enough for you to swing your leg hard against the back of his knees, sending him tumbling to the floor. He let out a grunt at the impact. Hands grappled at his wrists, pushing them out to his sides and against the mat as your left leg swung over his waist to straddle him down.

He pushed up against you, but you dug your right knee into his hip bone and forced his arms back down. Bucky groaned, letting his head fall against the mat as he rolled his eyes.

“Wanna call me soft again, sweetheart?”

A bead of sweat dripped off the end of the baby hairs framing your face and fell against the floor next to Bucky’s head. He didn’t flinch, not even to tug at his wrists you kept bound against the mat. He could have escaped you easier than you’d admit with the strength of the serum running through his veins, but he stayed down. You raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious that he hadn’t tossed you off yet. A grin pulled at his lips, his eyes narrowing as they trailed over your face and down to where you sat against his waist.

“Not sure yet,” he said through a heavy breath. “Kinda like where it got me.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you pushed yourself off of him until you laid comfortably along matt next to him. Bucky adjusted his arms to rest his hands behind his head. The tips of his hair were wet with sweat, patches of his shirt damp from the last hour you’d spent pushing each other in the ring. It was a kind of routine you’d find yourself in at three in the morning. It was the only place Bucky had found peace when he first joined the avengers; told you as much a few months after you first met.

He was always one to keep to himself, that much didn’t surprise you, not with what he had been through. You had been working with the avengers for a few years before Steve brought Bucky onto the team. Most of your time was spent alongside Nat and Clint, being the only avengers without any superhero abilities other than your dashing good looks and assassin primed skill set. The gym was your home in the compound. It was where you spent most of your time. Whether it be training SHEILD recruits, pushing yourself in hand to hand with Nat, or running miles on the treadmill when the nights became too dark, which they often did.

It was also where you forged your friendship with Bucky.

You had caught him beating the life out of the fourth punching bag Tony had replaced in a week at nearly two in the morning. His back was to you, dripping in sweat, as his grunts echoed throughout the room. He had only been living in the compound for a few days, hadn’t so much as said a word to anyone other than Steve.

You had approached him slowly, wondering if he was there for the same reason you were. Who else would decide to work out at this hour unless they had some demons to fight off? It was the first time you ever saw Bucky flinch as you approached him, eyes wide, unsuspecting, as you held your hands up cautiously. You had pressed your lips into a tight smile, nodding towards the treadmill to signal where you’d be and he only nodded once before returning to the punching bag. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the sunken, pale look of his skin. He was better at hiding his demons during the day, you thought. He didn’t acknowledge you again until the fifth time you ran into each other in the dead of night.

He didn’t speak to you but he helped correct your form on a move you had been working on endlessly with Nat but couldn’t seem to get right. He gestured the move for you, waiting for you to signal you understood before he went back to the punching bag. You had watched him with careful eyes, studying him more than the combat move he was instructing. Still, you kept your distance. You remembered what Steve had told you about him. You weren’t in the business of pushing people before they were ready. It would be another two weeks before he spoke to you for the first time.

He had called your name as you were on your sixth mile on the treadmill, not having noticed his presence behind you. It had only been half etched smiles or a nod in recognition before that moment. You had raised an eyebrow at him, shocked as how soft his voice sounded in comparison to his hardened exterior. You jumped off the machine, wiping your brow with the edge of your shirt. It was the first time he asked you to spar.

Sooner than you realized, you had become friends. He had learned to tease you when you’d accidentally go for his left arm in hand to hand, momentarily forgetting it was made of solid metal. He’d laugh when you’d pin him to the ground and spray water at you when you’d get a little too cocky about it. You’d spend hours sitting at the edge of the ring, drenched in sweat, talking about the team, how he really should give everyone a chance, how you’d grown to befriend Steve, and how you came to be a part of the team. Bucky would talk about the 40’s and his ma. He told you about his past, the things Steve didn’t dare to share with you and the disdain he carried for the scars along his shoulder. He’d tell you about the nightmares that used to bring him to the gym late at night. He’d tell you that he started to come even when the nightmares were absent because there was just something comforting about this place.

He didn’t tell you it was you.

He learned to find himself again in this gym, sparring with you, talking with you, evading his demons with you. The first day you saw him join the team for movie night, you almost choked on your popcorn. He sat down next to you, mumbled ‘what the hell is a hogwart,’ before he shoved his hand into your bowl of popcorn. When the rest of the team wouldn’t seem to evert their looks of complete shock, Bucky just shrugged and settled in next to you, asking a hundred questions about the movie. Sam had teased him about it, only for you to chuck the empty popcorn bowl across the room at him. Bucky had laughed so hard, he doubled over. Steve sat across the room with a beaming smile.

“You think Steve was right?” Bucky’s voice drew your attention back. You turned on your side to look at him, arm settling under your head to cushion against the hard ground of the ring. You narrowed your eyes quizzically and Bucky shrugged. “He keeps saying I need to get out more.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow. “What has you thinking about that?”

“He wants me to go on an undercover op next week. Requires blending in with the civilians.”

“You did a pretty good job of it in Bucharest,” you pointed out. He shook his head.

“This is different. I wouldn’t be just looking out for myself.” Bucky sighed, rubbing his face free of the sweat. “I’d have a mission again and people to watch out for. I’d had to keep myself in one piece or,”

“You’d have me to answer to,” you said, cutting him off with a lighthearted grin and poking him in his side. That got him smiling again. You plopped yourself back down on the mat, hair brushing up in a halo around your head. Your shoulder touched his and you tried to ignore the jolt of electricity fluttering across your skin.

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah I guess I would. Don’t want to see you mad, that’s for sure.”

“I’d have to beat you up again,” you teased, unable to control the grin on your face as you stared up at the ceiling. It was nearly impossible to suppress the laugh creeping up from your chest. You could tell he was looking at you, narrowing his striking blue eyes.

“Is that what you wanna call-“

A blaring siren cut Bucky off before he could finish. You jolted upright just as the lights went out, replaced by dim red and blue lighting along the outer walls. Bucky was on his feet before you could register what was happening. The siren was so loud; it was piercing. You winced as you felt the resounding horn in the back of your skull.

“FRIDAY!” you shouted, “What the hell is going on?”

“Not sure, Agent (Y/L/n),” the AI responded, her voice more panicked than you’d appreciate for a computer. “I think someone hacked into my system.”

“Is that even possible?” Bucky yelled towards you, hoping you could hear him over the sound of the siren.

“Not supposed to be!” You ran your hands through your hair, eyes scanning over the empty room. You gestured towards the door. “We should find the rest of the team. Make sure everyone’s alright.”

Bucky nodded, jumping over the ropes of the ring. You followed close behind, using the post the propel yourself above the barrier. Feet on the ground, you started jogging towards the exit when suddenly the siren ceased. You both pulled to a stop. A ringing was left in your ears in the siren’s absence. You and Bucky exchanged worried looks.

“I am delighted to see you again, soldat,” the voice said over the speakers in a thick German accent. You could vaguely register the subtle noise of the surveillance camera turning in Bucky’s direction. “I hope you’re still as capable as you once were. I suppose we will find out together.”

Bucky shook his head, his breathing picking up in pace. His right hand was shaking as he brought it to his mouth, rubbing anxiously at his lips.

“Oh God,” Bucky whispered in a shaky exhale. His eyes flickered over to you and the wave of panic across his face was enough to send a burning ache in your stomach.

“Bucky…” you started, though you couldn’t find the strength to finish. You knew about the trigger words, how Shuri had done her best to clear them from his head but she hadn’t quite figured it out just yet. He had been stable enough to return home with Steve, he had made so much progress, she was so close. But it wasn’t enough. She needed a few more months, Bucky would stay at the compound until then. It would be alright, Steve promised. No one knew the words; the book had been destroyed. The fear across Bucky’s face only reflected your own.

“Желание,”

“No,” Bucky groaned, stepping away from you, his hands flying to the sides of his ears as if that could shield him in some way. Finger nails dragging at his hairline.

“Ржавый,”

“This can’t be happening. This isn’t happening,” he mumbled frantically, his eyes squeezing shut. You stood only inches from him, your own hands hovering over his, terrified to actually touch him.

“Семнадцать,”

You reached out as Bucky started muttering to himself in Romanian, whispering frantically under his breath. Then the rise and fall of his chest started to pick up in pace and he squeezed his eyes shut, breaths coming in more labored. It was only then you finally allowed yourself to put your hands against his, begging him to look at you. His eyes shot open, a surge of panic coursing through them, as if he had forgotten you were right next to him, only a breath away from the monster he knew himself to be.

“What are you still doing here!” he yelled, shoving you aside. He pushed you with such force you stumbled back a few paces. He waved towards the door. “Get out of here, Y/n!”

“I’m not going to leave you, Buck!” You shouted back defiantly. You rushed back towards him, placing your hands on the side of his face, thumbs brushing hastily against his flushed cheeks. “I’m not leaving you alone like this. We’ll- we’ll figure something out.”

“Рассвет,”

Bucky winced, “I’ll hurt you.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Печь,”

Bucky let out a shout and collapsed to the ground. You tried to grab him before he did, but he was too heavy. You dropped down by his side, falling hard on your knees, as his hands started grasping at his sweats, desperately trying to find something to ground him.

“Please… go…” he begged, his voice hoarse.

“Девять,”

Bucky screamed again. This one sent waves of panic through your body. It was like he was in agony, in complete and unbearable pain, like he was strapped to that godforsaken chair in this very moment. You reached out to touch him but he swatted your hand away.

“Доброкачественный,”

“I will kill you, Y/n! Don’t you get that!” Bucky shouted, an aching pain lingering over his voice. “They will make me kill you! Please, I can’t… I can’t…”

“Возвращение на родину,”

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt a tickling on your neck. It was excruciating, the very idea of leaving Bucky to suffer through this alone, to be dragged so far back under the surface he couldn’t breathe. What choice did you have? You were no match for the winter soldier. He had teased you about it in training, but he’d never once come at you with his full strength.

Pleading eyes looked up at you, tears threatening to cloud through the shades of blue. It was the only thing that could crumble your resolve. Fingers gently brushed against Bucky’s jawline, hands resting on his cheeks as you pulled him close, pressing your lips against his forehead. It was an intimate gesture, one you’ve never dared to do before this moment. He sighed against you, his own hands wrapping around your wrists. Hours could have passed by in that moment and still, it was gone too soon.

“It’ll be alright, you hear me?” you whispered against his skin. He nodded but you could feel the hesitation in his movement. “We’ll bring you back, Buck, I promise. We won’t let them hurt you.”

“Один,”

Fighting against every instinct demanding you stay, you took off running towards the doors of the gym. In the distance you could see Steve sprinting towards you, dressed in baggy sweatpants and his sleep shirt, shield in hand. He was shouting at you but you couldn’t quite hear him. You were only feet away from the exit when the doors slammed shut in front of you. Through the small window you could see Steve skidding to a stop on the other side.

“Грузовой вагон,”

You started pounding against the frame, shouting to Steve to open the goddamn doors. Panic started to creep its way through your veins. You hadn’t noticed Bucky had stilled behind you, not with Steve’s muffled shouts through the door, attempting to break through the barrier with his shield. Natasha was just over his shoulder, her gun aimed at the hinges, though both of you knew it would do little against Tony’s lockdown protocols.

“Доброе утро, солдат.” The voice echoing from the speaker chuckled. Nat’s eyes widened, staring off behind your shoulder. You turned around slowly, knowing exactly what you would find waiting for you and yet the shock of seeing him in such a state still sent a wave of pain through your chest.

“Я готов отвечать,” Bucky replied, his voice void of emotion. You didn’t know Russian, but this you recognized. Ready to comply. The man standing in front of you was no longer Bucky Barnes. He was not the man you had spent countless nights sparring with when the nightmares kept you up or the man who didn’t shy away when you found yourselves sitting hip to hip on the couch during movie nights. He was not the man who followed you to your room one night, sheepishly asking if he could stay with you when even the hours in the gym wasn’t enough to stop the terrors behind his eyes. He wasn’t the man you had found yourself falling for.

“Come home, soldat,” the voice purred through the speakers. “Kill anyone who gets in your way.”

Your eyes widened as Bucky took a step towards you. You hadn’t realized you backed up until your back touched the metal doors. Muffled shouting from the other end of the frame was all you could hear as Bucky stared you down, his eyes somehow duller in color, like the vibrancy behind them had been stolen from him. There were more people at the door now. Beams of light shining in through the window was enough to alert you that Tony had arrived. It wouldn’t be long until he could get the door open. You would just have to occupy Bucky in the meantime.

“Wanna spar?” Your voice was stronger than you imagined it would be. If there was a part of you that believed Bucky could hear you, it was naïve, you knew that; but it didn’t stop you from wanting to believe it. A deep breath filled your lungs. Then you charged.

Bucky was always faster than you, his reflexes smoother, more agile. It came with the serum, you supposed. You propelled yourself from the edge of the ring kicking against the post for momentum as you swung a fist at Bucky. There was no time to worry about whether you’d hurt him. He’d be able to hurt you a thousand times worse.

Bucky grunted as you plunged your elbow into his stomach. His hand snaked around your forearm and yanked it high above your head, using the advantage to punch you hard in the chest. The force of it sent you flying back several feet, your body falling hard against the floor, rolling over twice before you came to a stop.

You groaned at the impact. Your body was already sore before the soldier took his first swing at you from your sparring with Bucky. The burning ache in your chest was enough to outweigh the rest of the pain in your body. It was getting harder to breathe. You suspected you were down a rib. You gritted your teeth, closing your hands back into fists as you stood up.

Running towards Bucky, you let out a scream before you climbed up on his shoulders, using his thighs and hips as jump points. Wrapping your thighs tightly around his neck, you channeled Nat as best you could. Bucky started to flail under you, arms reaching up to drag you down. It didn’t take long before you felt the wall slam hard against your back, your head taking a good part of the hit.

Bucky grabbed you by your elbow and yanked you hard to the ground. Another hit to the side of your head. He waited as you scrambled to your feet, dizziness threatening to take you down before he did as you struggled to see straight. You held up your fists, took a swing, but he ducked it easily. He threw a punch square to your jaw, sending you stumbling back. He stalked forward and sent another to your left eye. Then to your stomach. Another to your side.

You were on the floor, blood dripping from your broken lips as you tried to push yourself back up to your feet through shaky arms only to collapse against the floor. The cool surface, a momentary relief. You glanced up at him, panting, struggling to breathe. He stared down at you, emotionless, expressionless, as his hair fell into his eyes. Slowly, metal fingers reached down and grabbed the collar of your shirt.

“B-Bucky…” you gurgled through the blood pooling in your mouth. He dragged you towards the wall where he held you up against it easily. Your eyes widened as the metal digits moved from the fabric of your shirt to the skin of your neck. “S-Stop…”

He didn’t flinch. Cold eyes stared you down as he started to put pressure to your neck. You gasped, hands flying up to his wrist.

“Bucky, p-please.” You could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Your words were barely intelligible to your own ears but the naïve part of you had hoped there was at least a small part of him that could still break free, that you wouldn’t have to die at Bucky’s hand, staring at the dark, twisted version of man you cared so deeply for. He had done it once before.

But you weren’t Steve.

His fingers curled tighter around your neck and you started to claw at his chest, his face, anything to make it stop. Heavy weights on your lungs. Unimaginable pressure in your head. It was worse than any nightmare you had ever woken from screaming your throat raw. Bucky showed no emotion as he drained the life from you. You tried to focus on the shades of blue as the darkness started to surround your vision, tunneling in until it was all that remained.

***

The soft sounds of a steady high-pitched beep rose you from your sleep. You groaned as you came to, dull aches throughout your body making it nearly impossible to move. You licked your lips in an attempt to moisten the dry, broken skin there, but winced as you did so, flinching back at the open wound. Opening your eyes, you were met with a blinding white room. It was a familiar one; one you had spent many nights in after grueling missions.

An empty chair sat to your left. A part of you, one bigger than you cared to admit, had hoped he’d be waiting for you to wake. You found yourself missing the sweet relief across Bucky’s face when he’d see you open your eyes for the first time after a mission sent you to this room. He’d be holding your hand, letting go nervously when you’d finally notice. He’d be here. He was always here. The empty chair was suddenly painful to look at.

Beyond the glass wall to your room you could vaguely make out several figures huddled in a corner. You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to clear up your vision. Steve’s shield draped along his back came into view, along with Natasha’s short, slim frame. They were both covered in purple bruising, a red gash evident across the top of Nat’s head, blood in Steve’s hair. Tony was throwing his arms about, his whole body moving with each word he said. He was angry.

A burning sensation stung in your throat as you swallowed. There was a remote around here somewhere, one that would call for Dr. Cho or someone, anyone, to come tell you what the hell happened. Your heart started to beat frantically the longer it took to find it.

Too many thoughts rushed through your mind at once. Where was Bucky? What happened after you blacked out? Was he still in the compound? Did he escape? God, did Hydra have him again? Where is the goddamn remote!

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and suddenly it was impossible to breathe. The beeping on the machine was going haywire and you brought your hands to your throat. Your fingers pressed against a soft cushioning encasing your neck. You were suffocating. Ripping the brace away from you, tossing it far across the room did nothing to relieve the rapid breaths and pain filling your chest.

The door to your room swung open and suddenly there were three people surrounding your bed. Natasha was on your left, her hand brushing gently through your hair, whispering words you couldn’t quite make out. Steve was on your right, his hand carefully sneaking into yours as he wrapped both hands around it.

“Breathe, Y/n,” he said softly, giving you his trademark kind, reassuring smile. He nodded as you started to following his breathing the best you could. “Good. You’re doing good, Y/n.”

“B-Bucky?” You choked out. Your voice was nearly gone, broken and raspy as it came out, like it had been carved up and thrown through a blender. You swallowed, wincing at the pain. “W-where’s-“

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Steve cut you off to your relief. “He can’t hurt you.”

You shook your head franticly. You didn’t have the energy to breathe properly, let alone speak. You turned towards Nat, eyes pleading with her. She had known you the longest. Nothing got past her in this compound. She must know about you and Bucky, or at least, whatever you and Bucky were, what you thought – hoped – you were. You could barely define it yourself.

Nat studied you for a moment, eyes narrowing as she tilted her head in thought. She turned to Steve. “That’s not what she meant.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

Nat sighed, her hand not leaving the crown of your hair for even a beat. Her nails ran gently along your hairline, lulling you back to ease. “She’s asking if he’s okay. She wants to know what happened.”

Steve nodded. “Right, ‘course. Buck’s fine,” Steve paused, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Well, as fine as you’d expect.” A nervous sigh. Then, “You gave us a scare there, Y/n/n. We were able to get through the door pretty soon after you blacked out, but it was close. Took us longer than I’d care to admit before we could knock Bucky out. Thankfully, once he came to, he was himself again. He took one look at you and headed straight to the safe room. He hasn’t come out since.”

“Cho gave him the all clear a few hours ago,” Nat added. “Tony’s been working with a team to track down whoever hacked into FRIDAY’s system. He’s already put in new protections to make sure it can’t happen again.”

You narrowed your eyes, confusion evident on your face. Why was Bucky still in the safe room if he was cleared?

Nat nodded, understanding you as she always did. “He almost killed you, Y/n. If there’s even a chance it can happen again, he’s going to keep himself locked in that room indefinitely. Bucky… He cares about you. I don’t think any of us will be able to convince him to leave that room.” She nodded towards Steve and Tony, who you now noticed was standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, observing. A scowl present upon his features.

“She’s saying you’re all that’s gonna convince him he’s not a blood thirsty killing machine,” Tony quipped. He pushed himself off the wall and started to pace around the room. Steve sent him a warning glare, which Tony brushed off with a scoff. “Look, we all know I hold no favor for Barnes and I don’t disagree with how he sees himself, but I know for a fact that’s not how you see him. Besides, that safe room is for emergencies, not a makeshift prison. If he wants to lock himself up, I’ll call the secretary and we’ll revoke his pardon.”

“Tony,” Steve warned again. Tony rolled his eyes.

“You get what I’m saying,” Tony said as he leaned against the edge of the bed. “You focus on getting better. Don’t worry about Barnes. He’s not going anywhere. When you’re ready, just know you’re gonna be met with a brick wall of self-hatred and man pain. That is, if you do wanna see him again after what he just did to you.”

“Jesus, Tony, she gets it,” Steve grumbled.

You nodded, knowing you’d be back at square one with Bucky after what happened. He’d be back to his old self; distant, withholding, untrusting. But you were patient. You’d wait for him.

***

Nearly a week later, your voice came back to you. Dr. Cho still kept you held up in the med bay to monitor the bruising on your throat and to check the damage to your windpipes. It hadn’t been as severe as they originally thought. Turns out it was mostly swelling and once it went down, breathing got a whole lot easier.

You stood at the edge of your bed, pulling a SHEILD crewneck over your head as gently as you could. It still hurt to lift your arms above your head, but if you spent one more minute in that damn hospital gown you were going to lose it. You sighed of relief as you bunched the fabric along your waist. A knock at the door caught your attention and you turned to find Steve standing in its frame.

“Heard you were being discharged,” he said. Though he wore a sheepish smile, there was a lingering concern behind his eyes.

“You wanna know if I’m going to see Bucky.” Your voice was still pretty raspy, but it sounded more like you. Almost as if you had just gotten over a bad cold. Almost.

Steve let out a nervous laugh, but he nodded. “Didn’t know if you wanted company.”

You smiled, crossing the room until you stood next to Steve. You placed your hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be okay, Steve. He won’t hurt me.”

“You seem pretty sure of that,” he said softly. It wasn’t accusatory. If anything, it was statement of relief, like he had been worried you would blame Bucky for what happened. That you would walk away and take with you any semblance of a normal life Bucky had started to know.

“I am,” you replied sincerely. “I know that if he was given the choice, if he had any control, he never would have hurt me, or you, or Nat, or any of us. Just gotta try to convince him of that, right?”

“Right.” Steve nodded. The smile he wore was still a little broken behind the eyes. You squeezed his shoulder and headed towards the elevator.

It was darker on the saferoom floor than you expected. Brick walls lined a single hallway, illuminated only by a string of floor lights. For claiming it wasn’t meant to be a prison, Tony sure was stingy on the lighting, you thought as you made your way down the long corridor.

At the end of the hallway was a massive metal door, bolts surrounding the frame and gears locking it into place. A touch pad was encased in the wall next to it. You tapped on the screen. An image of Bucky came into view. He was sitting at the far corner of the room on the floor, knees to his chest, hands wrapped up in his hair. He was so incredibly still.

“FRIDAY?” you called.

“Yes, Agent Y/l/n?” the comforting voice of the AI replied.

“Can he hear me in there?”

A soft beep rung out and a blinking red light appeared at the corner of the screen. You swallowed.

“Bucky?”

Bucky’s head snapped up, his eyes darting towards the door. You watched him on the surveillance camera as he shook his head, closing his eyes and put his head back to his knees.

“Bucky, please. Open the door,” you asked gingerly, your hand setting on the cool metal of the door frame, as if touching it would somehow bring him peace. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbled. It was soft, under his breath, but FRIDAY picked it up for you.

“I talked to Tony. I could have FRIDAY override the system, but I,” you paused, taking in a breath to calm your nerves. “I was hoping you’d let me in.”

You watched the screen as Bucky’s head lifted again. From this angle, it was hard to get a good look as his face, but his shoulders slumped. Slowly he stood to his feet, using the wall to help himself along. He took slow, steady steps towards the door until he froze.

“Why did you come here?” You could hear Bucky’s voice through the door, not needing the AI to amplify it for you. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “After what I did…”

“Bucky open the door,” you asked again more urgently, feeling the lump burn in the back of your throat. You needed to see him. Tears were prickling in your eyes as you glanced over at the screen. Bucky’s finger was hovering over the green button, but his hand was shaking. After several agonizing minutes, he finally pressed it.

A loud clicking sound echoed through the hallway until a final latch unlocked and the door popped open just wide enough to let a stream of light through. You wrapped your fingers around the edge and pulled it open.

A gasp caught in your lungs as you laid eyes on Bucky. You weren’t able to see it on the screen but he wore a massive cut along his cheek bone, one he probably endured while Steve and the team tried to take down the soldier. It had barely healed, which meant he was refusing treatment from Dr. Cho. The dark circles under his eyes were enough to tell you he had barely been sleeping.

His eyes were focused beneath your own. You wondered for a moment what he was staring at until you remembered the distinct bruising marks on your neck, ones you should have thought to cover up before coming to see him.

“Oh, God,” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away. A subtle glassiness started to shine over the blue in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, dropping his head. “You shouldn’t be here, Y/n/n.”

“Stop that,” you said, taking a step towards him, knowing he’d only back away. It got you further into the room instead of standing at the door frame at least. “I’m fine, Buck. I’m healing.”

Bucky shook his head as he sat down at the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair. A nervous habit of his you had grown to recognize.

“I am. I’ve been waiting to get the clear from Cho to come see what the hell you’ve been doing down here for the past week,” you said lightly as you sat down next to him, hoping to get some kind of reaction. You didn’t expect him to turn back towards you with a glare

“How could you even stand to be in here?” Bucky snapped, his voice laced with venom as he stood up. He started pacing back and forth, tucking one hand into his pocket and clenching the other into a fist to stop the shaking. “How can you even bare to be in the same room as me after what I did to you? Are you that naïve? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?”

“Bucky,” you warned as he started chuckling to himself. It was humorless, his dark expression sending a wave of unease in your stomach. Not because you were afraid of him, but because it sat in such contrast to the man you knew.

“I almost killed you, Y/n! Don’t you get that!” Bucky shouted as he threw his metal fist against the wall. You flinched at the sound as Bucky pulled his hand from the crumbling hole. Small pieces of brick fell onto the ground. “You were within inches of your life and if Stark hadn’t broken down the door when he did, I would have succeeded! And- and you don’t even seem to care!”

“I care a lot, actually. I very much prefer being alive,” you replied sternly, folding your arms over your chest.

“Then what the hell are you doing here!” Bucky exclaimed. “Being around me is a death sentence!”

“You know why I’m here, Barnes,” you said slowly, your voice as steady as you could manage it. Bucky stared at you, waiting for you to back down, for you to turn away, or take it back, but you didn’t budge. He knew exactly what you meant. It was the reason why you had fallen into place so easily together, the reason why it was so easy just being around one another, the reason why he was the first person you sought out when you were met with your demons in your sleep.

The reason why he never once turned you away.

Bucky closed his eyes, his body slowly letting go of the tension he carried. He shook his head, clenching his jaw.

“I’m a monster, Y/n/n. You can’t want that.”

“Good thing you’re not a monster then,” you said gently. You stood, slowly moving across the room until you were right in front of him. His eyes were trained on the floor, his hair falling into his face. You moved your hand forward incredibly slow, enough that he would see it coming and he could back away if he needed to. When he didn’t, you let your fingers brush against his, tapping against them until he opened the palm of his flesh hand to you, allowing you to intertwine your fingers.

“You are a good man, James Barnes,” you said. You used your free hand to brush away the hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. “You did everything you could to keep me from getting hurt. You begged me to leave when I had the chance. I know the last thing you wanted was to hurt anyone. I know that.”

Bucky nodded, his eyes slowly moving up to meet yours, though he froze on the bruising along your neck. Instinctively his metal hand reached up to touch it, but he pulled back the second he realized what he was doing.

“Buck, it’s okay,” you whispered, giving him a slight nod.

Bucky licked his lips nervously. His hand moved at agonizing pace until he let it sat against your collarbone. He swallowed, his eyes darting up to yours as if he was seeking permission. You smiled encouragingly and nodded. He bit on his lower lip as his fingertips brushed against the bruising; dark purple and blue in the shape of his own hand.

“Does it hurt?”

You shook your head. Bucky let his hand fall back to his side. When he started staring at the floor again, you squeezed his hand, hoping to bring him back.

“Bucky, I-“

“I can’t ever lose you,” he said suddenly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course, Buck,” you replied gently.

He nodded nervously. You could feel him squeezing and releasing your hand repeatedly, like it was a calming mechanism for him. He lifted his head, bringing himself to meet your eyes. You swore every ounce of pain you had in your body left the moment you found vibrant shades of blue staring back at you.

“When I saw what I did to you… I thought that I…” Bucky pressed his lips together, unable to finish the thought. He sighed, trying to pull himself back together. “I don’t have a lot of good in my life. I haven’t in a long time. But then Stevie found me and he convinced me to come with him and join this ridiculous group of people and… and then I met you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as Bucky gently set his hand against your cheek, the cool metal sitting in contrast to the warmth of your skin.

“You are what’s good in my life, doll,” Bucky said, his voice just above a whisper, like the words had fallen in a gentle exhale, like it was relief just saying the words aloud. “I can’t ever lose you. Not like that. Not by my own hand.”

“I know,” you sighed, your hand reaching up to hold his wrist as his thumb brushed against your cheekbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You made that pretty clear,” Bucky said with a soft chuckle. You had almost forgotten how sweet he sounded as he laughed. “Don’t think I’ll ever stop being surprised at that.”

“You find it so hard to believe I want to be around you?” you asked, a smirk behind your lips.

“I find it hard to believe you want someone as damaged as me, doll.” His voice was soft, teasing, with a half-etched smile but it fell away quickly. He swallowed.

There was something so incredibly comforting about standing this close to Bucky, hands intertwined, the brush of his cool metal fingers against your flushed cheeks. He brought you the kind of relief you had never been able to find at the bottom of a bottle or at the end of your fist. This man, who thought so little of himself, was more to you than you’d ever be able to admit aloud. The way he was touching you, comforting you, in the silence of the saferoom was the most intimate contact you’d allowed for yourself in years. There had been men, but none like Bucky, none that you’d let stand this close and watch you through kind, nervous eyes.

“I’ll always want you, Buck.”

It was the easiest thing you’d ever said.

Bucky exhaled, like he had been holding his breath for days. A sad smile urged to lift the corners of his lips though it didn’t quite make it. It’d take longer than a few stolen moments in the privacy of this saferoom to convince him he deserved what you longed to give him. His hand snaked around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer towards him until his lips sat against your forehead. He didn’t let go, not for a while.

For now, it was enough.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #reader insert #my writing #bucky fic

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ncstalgiaz · 4 years ago

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hey! i was curious what you think contributes to dash activity slowing down / rps just abruptly dying off? is there anything you think members can do to reactivate it instead of relying on admins?

hiiii !! i'll be really honest and say i kinda think this is just the curse of tumblr rps these days ( hence my inclination to try hosting on discord for my new one ). but i do also think there's other elements that apply and stuff that can be attempted in order to stop it from happening. i've ran about 10 tumblr rps since around 2018 and i think i'm a really observational person when it comes to their success or failures. to start with, i think the reason tumblr rps die quickly nowadays is that everything is too rushed. i know you asked about what members can do, and this doesn't apply for that, but it's just something i've noticed that is worth mentioning. back when i adminned a really successful group in the summer of 2018, there was no trend of having a 24 hr plotting window and then opening for interactions. i think this really rigid, time-sensitive structure makes everything seem too much like a chore for members. the only reason i've implimented it in my own more recent rps is that it seems to be what people prefer but i have no idea why. the 24 hour plotting window is never really 24 hours. we all know that it's created a system in which the people who post their intros the quickest are the ones who tend to get the most plots, and anyone who's more than a couple of hours later just gets ignored and will find it feels like pulling teeth to get plots because it seems like everyone's satisfied after getting like three plots and once they've done that, they kind of give up. i want the rpc as a whole to rethink this trend if it wants tumblr rp to survive tbh. also, everyone ( both admins and members ) should stop assuming an rp is dead like a day after opening if the dash is "slow" aka only one post on the dash per hour. sorry to jump back to it but the summer 2018 rp of mine had a slow start. it took a while for interactions to build up but that rp lasted around 3 months. at the beginning, the dash was what people would now consider "slow" and even at its peak for activity, there were like 3 posts per hour on the dash during the most active hours. that was more than enough for people. it's not anymore. we ALL have to stop assuming an rp is dead because there isn't 48285 posts on the dash at once, because then the dash DOES actually die (aka not one single post in two days) because everyone's given up on posting because they didn't like the rate other people were posting at. give things a chance to get moving. also, we have to get better at plotting with each other. if i, as a member, struggle to get good plots then i'm obviously gonna have less motivation to post. slide into peoples dms for plotting after *actually reading their intro* and getting some ideas on how you think your character would feel about them based on their personality, hobbies, etc. we all have to stop offering each other weak ass plots like "oh well i dont really have a childhood friends plot so we could do that!" ... i'm not saying platonic plots arent good but they need to be interesting. i'm not perfect at it myself but i try to offer a range of plots that people will actually want to play and i feel like it's rare to find others who do that too and it's difficult bc i end up burnt out from being the only one doing any of the work. also, make friends with your fellow muns, hit them up and chat to them !! if you haven't posted yet, explain why or let them know that you do plan on posting later when you're not busy / stressed / having writers block / tired etc. so that they dont feel like the reason you havent posted is bc you lost muse for their plot or something. ofc you shouldnt always need to do this and you dont owe anyone an explanation for anything but maybe it could help. other than all of this, i just feel like it's an issue that tumblr rps are going through these days and don't really know what to suggest in situations where none of this has worked bc it's something i'm trying to figure out myself !!

#rpt #rph #* / askbox !#ugly bc mobile

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 4 years ago

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I was tagged by @harryhazza to do the 20 question tag!

thank you, annie, new friend (*gushing*)

rules: answer 20 questions, then tag 20 bloggers

name: ella

nickname: my armenian co-worker started calling me “ellshka” (or how tf you’d spell that) and i fucking love it

zodiac sign: aries

height: something around 175cm

language: dutch, english, average french, lil bit of german

nationality: belgian 🍻

favourite season: i’m bad at choosing. i love the fall bc halloween and the overall gloominess, i love summer bc i love the freedom that comes with it. but i guess i love spring most bc it has the ecstasy of what summer will bring, it has my birthday, and i can still wear jeans and jackets but also sunglasses

favourite flower: i have a thing for chrysanthemums, but it’s more bc of d.h. lawrence’s short story than anything else

favourite scent: vanilla and freshly ground coffee

favourite colour: blue, but orange is up there

favourite animal: birds do sth to me

favourite fictional characters: sirius black, tully (from andrew o’hagan’s ‘mayflies’), the bfg

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee, then tea to make sure i don’t drink too much coffee

average hours of sleep: 6-8 (i’m at my best at 6 hours, i think, and i’m a tired mess at more than 8 for some reason)

dog or cat person?: i had a cat when i was living with a host family on exchange, and it was the best thing ever, but i am both, and my life will not be complete until i have both

number of blankets you sleep with: four in winter, one-two during the summer but i like the weight

dream trip: canada (vancouver), dublin, greece (i’m a slut for old european messiness. it’s where i grew up and i need it in my life)

blog established: 2012, my 5th post ever was louis tomlinson 🤘. truly active 2014-2017ish, when going through an intense mcr moment, and that’s when i found a home here. sadly, my main mutuals then fell off, and so did i. i thought this site was dead until i fell into another small depression last november and was truly desperate for anything to distract me and....... then tumblr saved me once again. probs never leaving after this time

number of followers: 504 (most of them are inactive by now i bet, but recently a strong community of larries has been forming on my dash and i couldn’t be happier)

random fact: i have 27 tattoos and did them all myself, stick ‘n’ poke. cool huh

I’m tagging: @as-jolly-as @hometothecanyonmoon @wildflowerbabyx @punk-djmalik @justascrollingghost @a-sweet-habit

and that’s where i’ll stop bc i simply don’t have that many mutuals atm 🤷‍♀️ also, those who i did tag, don’t feel obligated to do this! i just love your blogs so there ya go

#Salkantay - annie i googled it #fucking beautiful #south america is on my bucket list for sure #but i don't wanna go there and be a noob tourist yk #and i will have to go multiple times in order to see even a fraction #but a start's a start #ab me

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the-colony-roleplay · 5 years ago

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THAT’S A WRAP ON "DEAD MAN’S CHEST” GAMES LIVEPLAY!

Holy HELL guys, I can’t believe we made it! What a wild weekend!

Now, I would usually be a lot more verbose with my closing emotional speech, (you all know this about me, lol), but since we went nearly 3 hours overtime (totally worth it) and I haven’t eaten in like 8 hours (also worth it), I will keep this short and sweet. (spoiler alert: I had to come back to edit this before posting bc look, it did not happen. It never does. Sigh.)

THANK YOU EVERYONE for your participation and enthusiasm! Getting to watch you guys react and comment to the Game events as the day went on really made it so so rewarding for Lottie and I. We had an absolute blast, but this much hard work wouldn’t have been nearly as rewarding without such a great response and participation from the group, so you have our eternal gratitude.

As mentioned before, the wrap of the event means that:

You are now permitted to thread anything during the games as well as after. The timeline will move forward a smidgen, (between the 3rd and 4th week of Feb) to allow you to explore threads during the games, as well as after.

You are of course welcome to keep writing any previous threads as long as you need to wrap them up; but please do not start anything new from before the Games, unless you explicitly backdate it.

All threads & content posted to take place during the games should be TITLED accordingly. You do not have to use any specific Game tag, just indicate in the title that it’s a Games thread—you may chose whatever titling format or style or wording you wish.

Any threads that take place after the Games do not require special titles of any kind. You can continue on with those as normal.

As mentioned many times before, ALL characters would be assumed to have participated in the games, unless there is something in their bio or character development that makes them an exception.

Events that go on during LivePlay are merely excerpts of some of the things that happened In-Verse. Feel free to explore the ones mentioned in detail, plot headcanons, or come up with some of your own totally original ideas—just make sure that everything complies with the events that have been posted in the Game 003 tag on the Games blog.

We did our best to include as many characters as possible in the scenarios, even those not listed as official participants for LivePlay. Meaning, you should most definitely check the blog to see where your character(s) popped up, and use these as a foundation for your plotting and threading! All characters are tagged with their first name and last name!

And just a couple more things before I sign off—all activity will be extended to END OF DAY TUESDAY for anyone who is on or nearing activity and not already on hiatus. Due to the craziness of the all-day games, few people posted on their characters during this time, and some people are just about to hit activity or waiting on replies. We did not expect the dash to be as busy with the event itself, nor did we expect it to take as long as it did on the second day, so we’re extending activity automatically for everyone until Tuesday.

If you need more time than this, and are not already on hiatus, please contact us. Otherwise, we’ll see everyone back on the dash as normal in the next day or two!

And finally, Lottie and I are reserving our 6th year anniversary surprise for you guys until tomorrow—obviously the day is today, but with such a full and successful day, and everyone off to bed (and my head literally swimming), we figure it best to let it rest for now!

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH for the best Games event TO DATE. You all make Lottie and I so proud, and so emotional and weepy.

GOODNIGHT CHILDREN

xoxoxoxo

Mod!Ro

#col22admin #dead man's chest #col22games

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imnotcameraready · 5 years ago

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chivalry is dead (20)

A/N: BIG YEEHAW HOURS TODAY Y’ALL ITS BALL TIME!!!!!!! AND WE CAN’T HAVE A BALL WITHOUT A PRINCE *stars bawling*

costumes will come in another post bc i. got really excited and then drew them all like, last month (most of them, some were finished last night y e e et)

WARNINGS: remus mention, heist details, wound descriptions, sword mention, scar descriptions, threats of violence, thoughts of dying — alright, im pretty sure that's it, but this chapter has thicc details so if i missed anything pls pls pls lmk

Words: 4550

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3 ,3 <3

Deceit really was right, Patton thought while he looked around at the town. His arm was linked around Logan’s as they walked down one of the town’s side streets, from Dr. Picani’s office, and he was taking the time to admire how intricate all of the architecture had gotten. It was intricate and worn and every building seemed unique now, something that he hadn’t realized was missing during their first pass through.

There were arch ways, bridges between doors on the third floors of buildings. There were seemingly hand-woven canvases shielding some of the streets from the sun and, if Patton squinted hard enough, he could see actual detailed stitching and some stains of age. They passed buildings that had scratches and chisel marks, and Patton could clearly see that it was made from stone bricks that had been painted over. Twice, actually. Once with a very old and faded blue, then with a lighter cream that still let the blue show through in spots where the paint was gone.

He wondered a little what had caused those spots. Was it because you weren’t supposed to layer house paint? The spots were different sizes — how many memories were made here?

Patton stumbled, tripping over his thoughts and heels, and leaned more into Logan’s side.

Logan tugged at his arm. “Don’t ponder too hard, Patton,” his voice was soft, hushed to not draw attention.

They’d figured that the best thing to do was to not think about the world around them. Thinking too much about the world and specifically the things that they would affect about it made their focus wander onto fixing those things. Logan would get a headache, Patton would space out, and Deceit would….well, okay, Deceit hadn’t disclosed how and if he’d been affected. But Patton noticed he’d been sweating like a sinner in church, and how his fist would clench every so often, so it was clear that something was happening with Deceit. He didn’t want to force him to talk; honesty wasn’t Deceit’s strong suit.

The four Romans had agreed that that was the smartest decision; none of them nor all of them together were able to limit the Imagination enough. The Playwright had argued that, had Dragon and Damsel known that it was hurting the other Sides, then they would probably all have a unified thought enough to close up the unused worlds. But that would require discussing the entire matter with them, which, as the Thief pointed out, is “pretty fucking useless where they are now.”

So the focus thing was their current strategy. Patton grinned at Logan. “Thanks for the reminder, Octo-cutie-pie,” he smiled wider as Logan blushed.

“I–I’m–Octopi is the plural for octopus and there is only one of me,” Logan bit his lip, then patted Patton’s hand gently, “Thank you.”

Patton giggled, snuggling against Logan’s side briefly as they kept walking. They hadn’t actually talked about the whole love thing, hadn’t really established boundaries, but that seemed like a problem for tomorrow.

Right now, they were all going across town, invitations in hand, to the ball. And, at the very specific right now, Patton was admiring the Playwright and the Artist’s handiwork. They’d worked together to make everyone’s outfits and he’d be a liar if he said they weren’t handsome and beautiful.

Patton himself was themed after a cat — a grey cat, but a cat nonetheless! His dress had a long train for a tail, made of shimmering silver tulle, the same as his poofy sleeves. The skirt went from his waist to the ground, with a built in flair in his corset at the waist. Like, all of it was sparkling, all three tiers of his skirt, which went from grey to black with an inner layer gradient of blue to grey. His favorite part were his gloves, though. Silver for the most part, but with soft circles on his palms and the tips of all his fingers. His own lil’ toe beans!

Logan’s outfit was one of Patton’s favorites. His was themed after an octopus (“Known for their intelligence,” the Playwright had explained, face bright red as he tied Logan’s necktie into an Eldritch knot) with a dark blue blazer and slacks. He wore a vest that shimmered royal blue, with a white button down underneath. There was a piece of coral in his lapel where a flower would usually go, and his coat tails seemed to spiral in shapes that resembled an octopus’ arms. There were even rhinestone bubble decals on his shoulders, or suckers, if you wanted to interpret it that way. The Artist and the Playwright had a small argument about that.

He was dashing, in summation. Patton leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder. “Who knew the town was so big!” he said.

“That’s actually on purpose,” the Playwright said from behind them, “It’s actually not so big as the castle is small, using the same foreshortening techniques used at the Disney theme parks to make Cinderella’s castle, or Sleeping Beauty’s castle depending on which park you’re at—”

“I think he means how far Picani’s office is from the castle, God Mod,” the Thief responded.

The Thief and Deceit were walking in front, swords drawn on the chance that they ran into any guards, and so that the Thief could critique Deceit’s sword fighting skills. Surprisingly, he’d taken to the weapon, something about it being good to have at his disposal while dealing with the Others. The Thief offered to make him one once this escapade was over.

Or maybe it was an excuse for the Thief to keep touching Deceit’s hand. Because that was happening every so often. A lot more often than would be considered normal.

It wasn’t like Deceit was complaining about the touching. It was more the other way around. The yearning for physical contact was frustrating, but neither of them were going to admit that they wanted to hold hands. Even though they’d confessed to at least caring about each other.

“Oh,” the Playwright hummed.

“Cheer up, butter cup, I love hearin’ bout the forced perspective! The Disney parks are so~o~o fun,” the Bard sang out. “When’s the next time we get to go to California? Are we making a trip down to Anaheim? Can we PLEASE take a trip down to Anaheim!”

One of his arms was looped around the Playwright’s, while the other was looped around the Artist’s. They had settled on outfits that complemented each other’s, pulling from the same red and black color palette.

The Artist was the only of the trio in a suit, though his outfit could be considered the loudest. Buttoned down the middle with a high collar, half of his shirt was a solid black, while the other half was a diamond checkered pattern. All of the accents were gold, and his pants were half solid red and half checkered as well. Tonight, the Artist would be a jester.

An improvement on his self-esteem, the Bard had thought. The Artist had said so, too, saying he’d be dressing like a joke. It...was nice to hear.

The Playwright had also gone with a more light-hearted outfit, pun completely intended. He was dressed as the queen of hearts, with an A-line skirt that skimmed the ground and was almost entirely a replica of the skirt worn by the Queen of Hearts in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland animated movie. His corset had a low scoop neckline with a long heart that stretched down from the neckline to the bottom of the waist. His sleeves were poofy, black with red stripes between.

It was a deck of cards theme between the three of them. Honestly, they took a bit of solace in their three Musketeers situation. The Bard was dressed like a harlequin in a ball-dancing dress. His entire dress was checkered, a stiff corset traded for a looser fit bodice that was sinched at the waist by a thick black belt with a heart clip. Bits of tulle were attached to his wrists, ideal for dancing in, which was perfect for the plan. He and the Playwright had matching heart chokers, too.

As he’d said earlier, “We cute.”

Neither the Artist nor the Playwright had argued, and they had yet to pull away from him holding their arms. Maybe they didn’t hate him.

They didn’t! They were moving beyond all that!

Because they had to get the Child back, and Virgil back, and save the Damsel and they had a plan. Actually, they should run through the plan again, because the Bard had already forgotten most of it.

“Thief?” he called ahead.

“Mhm?”

“Can we run through the, uh,” they had a code word for it, shoot, what was it? Oh! Oh, right, “The waltz again?”

“Great Mona Lisa, Bard, how the fuck did you forget how to waltz?” the Artist groaned. “We’re going to a ball.”

“No, no, no, THE waltz,” the Bard nudged the Artist’s side with his elbow.

The Artist shot him a small confused glare, but realization struck his face quick after. “Oh. Oh, that waltz. Yeah, uh,” he turned to the Playwright, who also seemed confused, then to the front again, “Before we get in, we should go over the waltz again.”

The Thief and Deceit both stopped as well, fingers brushing once again. The Bard saw the motion and chuckled to himself. Sweet Chopin, they needed to just hold hands already. He could envision the love birds flying around their heads.

He felt a smidge bad, though. After all, he was the lucky Roman who got to kiss Patton.

Logan and Patton both turned back to them. Patton let go of Logan, then looked around. They weren’t quite at the castle yet; a side alley, wide enough for all of them to stand in and with ample trees, barrels, and an open door beside it would provide good cover.

“Let’s go over there,” Patton grabbed Logan’s arm again and led them all into the alley.

They grouped up into a small but tight circle, the Thief pulling them together. He was in a suit, and an ironic one at that. Originally his costume was intended for Deceit, but he suggested switching them, so that the Dragon would think he were Deceit while being less suspicious. He was themed after a snake, though the theming was less noticeable than the color palette; there were yellow sequins arranged in scale patterns across his black blazer’s forearms, and his vest was black as well, undershirt yellow, and bowtie black. It looked a little like a snazzed-up version of Deceit’s lawyer suit and, though he’d tell no one, the Thief loved the look.

Deceit had said it looked nice on him, too. The bowtie, specifically, but also the entire outfit, and also the Thief simply looked good — yeah, they were both kind of messes. Gone was the ability to seamlessly flirt, apparently.

Still, it was nice to see Deceit in something other than yellow for a change, too. He was dressed as a peacock, with no blazer but a side-cape that shimmered iridescent purple and green. Part of it had blue and green rhinestones inching up the shoulder, and his vest beneath was teal, while his undershirt was mint green. There were bands on his upper arms, keeping his shirt bunched back, that were dark blue. Even his ascot was an iridescent purple and blue.

They leaned against each other in the huddle. Brown eyes trailed all around the group, meeting similar expressions of steely determination.

They could do this.

“Alright,” the Thief started, “For the first hour, we’re gonna scope out the room and surrounding rooms. Meet wherever the snacks are in pairs, alternating pairs, and spread details. Patton and I will go twice.”

“Because you and I are gonna peel off after the first hour to go get Virgil and the Child,” Patton said, meeting the Thief’s eyes.

The Thief nodded. He looked around at everyone — Deceit and the Bard had both been fairly defensive about that choice, but he argued that they needed people who were good at causing distractions on the floor. Patton would be the best at comforting both Virgil and the Child, and the Thief was the only one who had any inkling of what the inside of the castle looked like.

He continued. “Right. We’re gonna try to get out and—”

“Say, what d’ya think that’d make us?” Patton asked, a tiny grin on his face.

“Oh, no,” Logan groaned, “Not—”

“Cat burglars!” Patton exclaimed with a giggle.

The Bard immediately broke out into a fit of giggles, leaning into Deceit a little as he did so. Deceit just rolled his eyes and patted the Bard’s back, letting him cling to his side.

The Artist stifled some chuckles of his own, and the Playwright grinned. Oh. Oh, no, not the idea grin.

“I think Dragon will be hard pressed to find flaws in our purr-fect plan,” he said, eyes shining as Patton laughed as well. “We’re just gonna have to distract him with our adorable kitty-Pat.”

Logan groaned again, in good humor this time. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Playwright,” he grumbled.

The Playwright immediately sobered up, mouth pressing into a line. “Ah, Logan, darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, but,” the Bard raised a finger at the Playwright, smile wide and mischievous, “If he catches wind of anything, you, Artist, and I can pull a wild card and deck him.”

That got the Artist and Patton to both laugh aloud, and even Logan smiled a tiny bit at the Playwright, if only to reassure him that his frustration was not directed at him.

The Thief seemed actually annoyed, though. He snapped his fingers in the center of the circle. “C’mon, focus here. Patton and I are going to get Virgil and the Child, then we’re going to come back up to the ball room at the second hour. At that point, Deceit—”

“I’ll be dancing with Dragon and, once you’re back, I’ll be distracting him enough for you to get out,” Deceit waved his hand, also slightly exasperated. He wanted Virgil back immediately and, as the time to pull off their hest approached, he grew more nervous.

“Right. Then, Playwright will take you backstage once everyone else has filed out,” the Playwright nodded to the Thief regarding his involvement, and the Thief looked around the group once more, “All of that sound good? Everyone else, be on the look out for Damsel. We don’t know where he’s gonna be. If he’s out on the ball floor, Logan, you—”

“I will approach him and explain that we are here to get him out,” Logan grimaced, “If he is not on the ball floor….”

“Then I’ll be on standby to head into the dungeons,” the Artist said, smile deflated, brow furrowed in thought.

“Good,” the Thief patted his shoulder, gripping reassuringly, “And if Remus is there, then Bard is going into the dungeons with Patton and I’m staying in the ball room to kick his ass.”

“This all sounds like a plan, Thief,” the Bard said, smiling at him, “Logan, thoughts?”

Logan huffed, frowning at the ground. He’d rolled the details over in his mind a few times, so he’d already worked out some of the issues, such as the irrationality of the original plan’s “jump out the dungeon’s windows, really, how large are the windows, and how do we know it’s not underground.” For right now, it seemed as though the plan were efficacious, but they couldn’t be certain until it was enacted.

But at that point, it’d be too late to change the plan to any degree of impeccability. They would have to wing it. And Logan wasn’t a fan of that.

But what choice did they have?

“It is as detailed and as faultless as we can arrange for it to be currently,” he said.

The Thief’s mouth twitched into a slight grimace, but he nodded all the same. That was as optimistic as he would be. “Once this is all over, we meet at the tree as fast as we all can get there,” the Thief said, casting one more look around, “If we pull this off right, no one’ll be leaving alone. If your partner gets injured, you carry them to the tree.”

“I don’t think….” the Artist said, frowning a tiny bit as his voice trailed off.

The possibility of injury was very high, actually. Death for the Romans, at least. And they didn’t know if the Dragon had injured Virgil or the Child. To be honest, they didn’t know if the Child was alive. Oh, goodness, what if Dragon had killed him?

“It’s gonna work,” the Bard said, “It’s gonna.”

He squeezed the Artist’s arm and gave him a nod. It was going to be okay. Roman was optimistic by nature, and the Artist did crave that sort of positivity.

“It must,” Deceit affirmed none too positively.

“It will,” Patton said, smiling at them all again before clapping, “And break!”

Everyone stood up on instinct. Then, they all shared slight laughs, small smiles.

The Bard leaned over and hugged Deceit with an arm, reciprocated a little. Patton leaned against the Artist, who didn’t hug back, but also didn’t flinch finally.

They were getting somewhere. It was going to be okay.

It was going to be okay.

….Without Virgil, they all felt as though their optimism was naively placed. But that was why they were going to get him back!

Once he was back, Deceit thought, he was never letting go again. If he was back. No, no, once he was back. He was coming back soon.

“Let’s go,” the Thief pulled his mask out from his coat, a black half-face mask covered in yellow sequins arranged like scales.

Everyone shared looks, nodding to each other as they slid on their own masks. Logan, Patton, the Artist, and the Playwright all had special masks that mimicked their glasses prescriptions so they wouldn’t need contacts, too. With faces obscured, they nodded once more, squeezing arms in reassurance and patting backs and giving smiles, and hurried out of the alley.

The Playwright walked at the front of the group, the only one not paired to any Side. He looked up at the sky. A storm had grown, clouds angry and grey above the castle, which was only a few blocks away now. Perhaps it would thunder during the ball.

He wondered vaguely what had caused the sudden shift in weather. During their week alone, it was all sunny skies.

Was it….

No. No, no part of Roman was that desperate, to have gone to Remus. Right? He’d been telling himself that ever since they’d begun this game, but the darker their future seemed, the more he worried about the Duke’s involvement.

The Thief seemed to think it was very real, enough to have a back-up written into the plan. C’est la vie. Such was life, he thought, the show must go on.

They walked quietly for only a few minutes. The closer they got to the castle, the more Imagination inhabitants they saw walking around them, some in pairs, some in groups, some alone. Everyone was in costume, most intricate. Good. This would be good, for coverage. The Thief had been a little worried that the ball would be sparsely attended, but this was good.

It was going to be okay.

They approached the drawbridge. Patton leaned against the Artist, gripping his arm tighter as the wind picked up. The Thief and Deceit were stoic behind them, and Logan and the Bard were simply quiet, though their hands were interlaced tight. It was going to be okay.

A line had formed on the bridge, in front of one man in a suit, perhaps the medieval equivalent of a bouncer. The group shuffled into the line, looking around at the castle, at the moat (“I think it’s filled with alligators,” the Bard murmured to Logan, who shook his head and was about to respond that that didn’t make sense, until an alligator’s maw jumped up and snatched a low-flying bird) and at the sky.

Angry, angry clouds.

It took an excruciatingly long eleven minutes for the Playwright to finally reach the front of the line, but when he did, he immediately grinned. He had to hand it to the Dragon.

“May I see your invitation?” Zac Efron asked, dressed in a black butler’s outfit.

Bless the Imagination’s castings. The Playwright handed over his invitation, and Zac looked over a list in his other hand before handing back the invitation and checking off a name. “You may enter to the ball room,” he motioned to the door.

The Playwright curtsied and hurried in. Behind him was the Artist and Patton, both of whom gasped a little, becau se holy shit, it’s Zac Efron.

The Dragon was really out here casting Thomas’ celebrity crushes as butlers. It was the first thing that the Artist had wholly agreed with the Dragon on, actually. Once they were Roman, they were going to have to look into that as a possibility.

One by one, each entered, walking down a grand hall with a ceiling so high and so vaulted that there seemed to be a sky inside. But, then again, there probably was. This was the Imagination. It looked somewhat like the Great Hall from the Harry Potter movies, this time shining with stars and constellations.

Logan could identify Aries and Pieces. That was actually accurate for the season and hour, so he gave a mental kudos to Roman for his design, then considered if it were his knowledge that had been used to perfect the stars. Well. That was inconsequential, I guess?

The hall was also lined with suits of armor, and bannisters adorned with Roman’s full crest. Though, Deceit noticed while he walked through, the entire crest was outlined in gold and the castle in the center was colored with grey and brown and black. He thought the Dragon was only supposed to be the outer tower and walls. If the Dragon called all of the shots around here, then why was the center tower also colored?

The walk was long, heels clacking against the stone. They turned with the carpet to the left and entered through a pair of double doors that had to be at least two floors high.

Inside was life. The room was massive, stretching almost the size of a football field. There was a stage near the entrance door where there were musicians (with undetailed faces, Deceit noticed) were playing loud enough to echo across the room. The dance floor seemed to take up about half the room.

Farther away from the entrance were some circle tables, arranged around with some citizens already sitting down. Further back were some long tables, food stacked atop them, and even further….

The throne was elevated so the Dragon could see across the hall to the dance floor. The Thief’s fists clenched immediately upon seeing him wearing the Prince’s attire, white uniform a stark contrast to the black he was typically adorned with. It was a jarring difference.

He was taunting them. By Doc Holliday’s pistol, they were gonna take him down.

Beside his throne was a large Ottoman seat, where there was another figure. The Damsel, most likely, though his face was obscured by a sheer red veil and distance. He was wearing a large dress, which had a triple-tiered skirt that seemed to flare out orange, then red, then black. His corset was decorated with red and orange and yellow rhinestones, and raised behind his head. It almost looked like flames.

Burned. The Damsel’s scars were also entirely visible, scabs on his arms angry and red, clearly not fully healed. They weren’t openly bleeding, but the Playwright could tell that they would start bleeding at some point in the night.

His nose scrunched as he examined the pair. They didn’t seem to notice him, the Damsel leaning against the throne’s side and not moving, the Dragon stroking his chin and looking across the hall absently. He had a sword sheathed beside the throne, too, with its handle sticking up in an easily accessible manner.

He was waiting for them, he realized. Of course he was, this was a trap, you fool. You knew this. You’d planned. It was going to be okay.

The Playwright turned back to the group just as the last pair, Logan and the Bard, entered.

“Okay. I am going to move toward the snack table,” he nodded toward the thrones, “Octopus, would you like to join me?”

Logan let go of the Bard, who curtsied and stepped back, and then offered a hand to the Playwright. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, “How about we acquire a table, Hearts?”

The Playwright nodded, then shot the Thief a look. “Snake,” he said, a promise, a warning, “Let’s waltz.”

“Let’s,” the Thief responded, squeezing Deceit’s arm.

The Bard and Patton had already taken each other onto the dance floor, hoping to not be conspicuously waiting in a group by the door way, and the Artist was meandering around — nope, no, he just asked an Imagination citizen to dance. Blending in well.

Operation save Virgil and the Child was a go.

Virgil could hear the faint music from above. He squinted up, then closed his eyes and exhaled. What’d that matter?

His side was throbbing. It seemed that just wrapping a bandage around a wound did fuck all to stop it from hurting, or bleeding, especially if it was just wrapped once and around the front. Virgil would have to remember that for the next time he got stabbed by an evil Dragon, he thought snidely.

He and the Child had relocated themselves to the bed. Pretending to not be panicking was tiring, but luckily for him, the Child had fallen asleep.

He sniffed quietly, rubbing his eye with the butt of his palm. For the past half an hour, ever sine the Child fell asleep, Virgil had been silently crying. And there was no Damsel to conjure him a glass of water or tell him it’d be okay. Because he knew it wasn’t going to be okay.

Even if he didn’t die in the Imagination, he’d be exiting it alone. And that was fine!

The Child snuggled closer to his chest, tiny arms wrapped around him. Virgil sniffed again and hugged him tight.

If he did nothing else, he’d at least protect this Roman.

He wished he’d at least told Roman how he felt.

Maybe he’d never get the chance.

Gosh, this was really fatalistic, even for him. It wasn’t like he was gonna die in the Imagination.

Virgil shielded his eyes with an arm and, as illogical as it was, wished that he could use that one arm motion to block out the sounds of the ball going on above. Shit, he was gonna die in the Imagination.

….Usually that’d freak him out a bit more. Maybe he’d bled out to the point where he was too tired to be worried. And, maybe it was childish, but he really did want to dance with Roman.

taglists!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1 @ninja-wizard101 @fandomsofrandom

general taglist: @jemthebookworm @okay-finne

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cydoniandetective · 5 years ago

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I was tagged by @macdenniskiss ! thank you!! I’ve never done one of these before!

rules: answer 17 questions and tag 17 people you want to get to know better

nickname: online I try to go by kamy because I dont think the pronunciation of my name is clear enough in english, so the ones irl would be too confusing. But irl people call me kamylinha (which is the diminutive of my name) and my best friend used to call me myla

zodiac sign: taurus

height: 1,56/5'1

hogwarts house: wow, it’s been a while, but I guess it’s Ravenclaw? Even when I was really into Harry Potter around 2004 I didnt pay attention to this lol

last thing i googled: "true detective rust apartment” bc I wanted to show how I think my home is gonna look like when I’m living by myself

song stuck in my head: Dead Inside by Muse - the name of the song speaks for itself lol

following: 305 (probably should take a look at that later, pretty sure most of those are from before 2016 and are inactive)

followers: 116 (literally no idea why anyone would follow me, but thanks haha)

amount of sleep i get: It depends on my current mood, so it’s either 4 hours of sleep feeling super great during the day but afterwards feeling loads of anxiety due to lack of sleep OR 10 hours of sleep and I’m sleepy all day.

lucky number: 1

dream job: since 2017 I decided I really really want to become a public defender

wearing: pajamas in the middle of the day, yep, it’s one of those days

favourite songs: well, right now, it would be all too well by taylor swift and sing for absolution, hoodoo, dead inside, falling away with you, all by muse, which clearly is the band of my life lol

instruments: I know the basics of the basics for piano, but I stopped learning a few uh years (oh, wow, it’s been literal YEARS) ago, but I do sing a lot... everyday

random fact: I learned english by myself watching tv shows and reading comic books because I couldnt wait until for new content to be released here, so it’s been like 11 years since I got into it and it completely changed my life! I love the english language (though I guess I do butcher it sometimes) and I think it’s way easier to express my feelings in this language, and more fun, and it opened a whole world for me online, making it possible for me to find like minded people and some mental health info that I would never ever ever have found in my own language.

aesthetics: I’m gonna be 100% honest here and admit I never really thought about it so it’s kind hard for me to answer lol but I’d say I’m pretty eclectic but more prone to vintage/dramatic aesthetics? I really dont know hahah

Tag: @dirtgrubgeiszler, @the-gang-gets-romantic, @hohcs, @soupcharlie, @acanoftrash, and I dont think I dont know anyone else who hasnt been tagged already? haha

EDIT; and @macsbaby because you post so much stuff I enjoy seeing on my dash!

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yoi-fanficrecs · 6 years ago

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Fanfic Writer’s Appreciation Day 2018!!!

I’m so thankful for all the fanfic writers in out there and especially the writer in the Yuri! on Ice Fandom. Here’s a list of some of the fics I’ve read this week & some of my favs all mixed together! (THIS IS BY NO MEANS A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF ALL THE FICS I THINK ROCK)

Don’t forget if you’re a fic reader to go and leave an extra comment on your fav stories or drop an ask in the author’s tumblr about how much you appreciate the work that they do! Some of the authors in the fandom are FANTASTIC and I can’t believe that they aren’t paid, professional writers!

Much Ado About Something by @eternalsunshine13 & Skowronek

AO3 Summary: By day, Victor Nikiforov is the head of European operations for LearX, a company on the forefront of private space travel. By night, he is makka-baby on Tumblr, a prominent figure in the small but passionate poodle fandom.

By day, Yuuri Katsuki runs F.O.O.L., a subsidiary of Katsuki Enterprises, whose stated goal is to bring LearX down one lawsuit after another. By night, he’s oodlesofpoodles, an active member of the poodle fandom and possibly makka-baby’s biggest fan.

By day, they duke it out in court. By night, they become friends—and maybe something more—as they fall for each other one Tumblr message at a time.

Or: a romantic comedy starring two idiots in love, the Katsuki family, the mothers Nikiforov, the husbands Chulanont-Giacometti, two doggos, six hamsters, one Yurio, and many, many schemes to get our favorite lovebirds together.

I devoured this in one sitting. They were so frustratingly adorable!!!! This fic is a great enemies to lovers filled with poodles, matchmaking Chris & Phichit, and a futuristic Tumblr app that is still the worst. :P

In Regards to Dynamics by ICanSeeClearlyNow, Oxytreza

AO3 Summary: In a world where betas ruled, alphas and omegas were treated as less than human. After centuries of prejudice, they rebelled, commandeered a colony ship and left Earth for the Proxima Centauri system, vowing to create a new world where all people, regardless of gender, would be treated equally.

200 years later, a reformed Earth approaches Proxima asking to reestablish contact and to reconcile their worlds. Victor Nikiforov, a popular and successful politician on Proxima, is chosen to lead the mission to Earth and accompany a team from Earth back to Proxima for a scientific exchange.

The team from Earth consists of ordinary people descended from omegas and alphas who chose to remain on Earth. Yuuri Katsuki, a researcher into transporter technology and completely ordinary and unremarkable Earthling (a PhD and excellent service record don't count - shush Phichit!) is both thrilled and terrified at the prospect of meeting the handsome ambassador who has taken the Earth by storm.

I’m a sucker for ABO fics. The history and world-building in this fic fascinated me and gave our boys some interesting backstories.

Cherry Blossom Winter by Ars_Matron

AO3 Summary: The war was over, and they had lost. The invading army covered Japan in a show of complete dominance. All bowed before them in hopes of being spared. And Hasetsu was no exception.They couldn't fight, there were no more battles to win, yet they were bound and determined to keep their omegas safe. All Yuuri and the others had to do was keep low until the soldiers were gone. Blend in. Never be caught alone.Yuuri hadn't meant to catch the attention of the blue eyed alpha.Viktor wasn't going to let him slip away.

ABO FICS FOR THE WIN!!!! This fic is an ABO version of another one of Ars_Matron’s stories Snow in Spring - so if you like the summary but not the A/B/O aspect hit that story up! I think the A/B/O aspect really raises the stakes for this story. Just from reading the summary you think it’s going to be a Dark Viktor, but Ars writes his POV as well so we get his thought process too! This is a great conquering Alpha! Viktor and dancer Omega! Yuuri that you’ve got to stop and read it!

Hide and Seek by senshoo

AO3 Summary: Thankfully, the walk only took a few moments and soon, Yuuri was juggling both the child and the key while he shouldered his way into the apartment, set the kid down on his secondhand couch, and then sighed, sinking to the floor.

One deep breath.

Maybe two.

And then, it hit him.Holy shit.Did he just kidnap a child?--

Or: The one where Yuuri accidentally becomes a father at twenty three. Oh, and there's still skating.

EKKKKKK!!!!! I love baby Yurio and this fic warms my cold dead heart! Not to mention this fic is HILARIOUS! I’ve literally laughed out loud reading multiple chapters from this fic much to my embarrassment during professional development workshops. It’s just a cute pinning fic with a cute little Yurio and a dash of angst but mostly humor. <3 <3 <3

Plus: the writer is a consistent updater!

Can I have some of that, Please? by TheLittleSeven

AO3 Summary: If there's anything he learned during his mate's pregnancy, it was to never, EVER question a craving of a pregnant person. Ever. Unless he wanted to deal with a crying fit that resulted from him asking the omega why he wanted mango ice cream with siracha and peas topped on it. Pregnant people usually have weird cravings during their pregnancy. Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov is no exception.

I stumbled upon this little one shot over the summer and absolutely love it! The writer says this is their first fic and it’s so cute! You’ve probably read the story somewhere on the internet and it fits our sweet boys so much!

Dearly beloved by Sophia96

AO3 Summary: This is the story about unconditional love between true mates. When they are destined to be together, there will be nothing standing in their way. Not even language barriers or great distances. As long as they have each other, they will never need anything else.

I couldn’t make a fanfic writer’s appreciation post without including my main writing KWEEN @sophialala1 !!! All of their fics are amazing! Long, fluffy, plot twists, little angsty Viktuuir goodness! Also, they are a dedicated writer and right now going on over a week of daily updates! I’m so thankful they are writing for this fandom and cannot express my gratitude enough!

Between Sixes by D_Toska

AO3 Summary: When Yuri Katsuki is hired as a caretaker for an elite competitive stable owned by Viktor Nikiforov, he knows he's in for trouble with his stunningly handsome new boss. When he makes a major mistake on his first day, he learns just how far Viktor is willing to go to ease his guilty conscience.

HOT HOT HOT!!!! This story is spicy, flaming, sexy, and OMG! I’m pretty sure I have a perpetual nosebleed the ENTIRE chapter. There’s also a lot about horses, which is very lengthy and detailed so I’m sure the writer knows what they’re talking about, lol (bc I know nothing about horses). But I love the chemistry between the dom Vitkor & sub Yuuri and i am on this rollercoaster for good.

Learning Life & Love (Work) by BellaBear13

AO3 Summary: Yuuri Katsuki gets admitted to the hospital for his anxiety and Viktor Nikiforov becomes his therapist. They fall for each other and develop a prohibited relationship, while dealing with problems and situations along the way. Yuuri befriends another patient, Yuri Plisetsky, where they find friendship in one another and open up about difficulties they have with their mental health and relationships.Together they all learn the meaning of life and love.

I was hesitant to start this fic only because I thought the power balance between Viktor & Yuuri would be skewed bc of the therapist/patient bit. I WAS SO WRONG!!! This fic is beautiful and heart-wrenchingly angsty and you know, a little pinning. The writer takes so good pace with their budding relationship && how they approach Yuuris (&&Viktors) mental illness. I really love this story and it updates consistently on Wednesday. Take a chance, and read this fic!

Seven Years and Twenty-Four Hours (Work) by Glaucus_Atlanticus

AO3 Summary: A time-traveling shower transports 18 year old Yuuri into the body of his future self—and into the arms of his idol, Victor Nikiforov. Now Yuuri must pretend to be his older self until he can return to his own era. Which would be a lot easier if Victor weren't so attentive. Or so affectionate.But as time goes on, Yuuri finds himself torn between his old life, and a new one that would hand him everything he ever wanted...but at the cost of his real identity.

COMPLETED! So beautiful. The younger time-traveling Yuuri is so heartbreakingly anxious and Victor is just a sad sac without his time-appropriate Yuuri. This is an angsty fic, but such a great read.

P.S Sorry this turned into an A/B/O fic appreciation post, lol. (but not sorry)

#yuri on ice #yoi fanfic #yoi fandom #fanfic writers appreciation day #much ado about something #dearly beloved #hide and seek #seven years and twenty-four hours #learning life & love #between the sixes

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