#haven't used my writing tag in two years then two days in a row WHAT IS HAPPENING

[thisonesatellite]

Tagged by the always wonderful @fsbc-librarian -- thank you so much, darling! 💖💖💖

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

42 works

2. what’s your total ao3 word count?

677,643 (how do i have so many?)

3. what fandoms do you write for?

MCU/Stucky -- this is my main focus and current sandbox. i love to play with these two. OUAT/CS -- that is where i started my fic writing journey and it still makes up the bulk of my works. i no longer write it, but it will always have a soft spot in my heart. Dramione -- i wrote one dramione fic a while back, and it is a ship dynamic i really enjoy. i still have one big, rather epic fic idea for it, too. Since this idea -- (and @mysteriouscatstellation) -- have been bugging me about it for over a year, i absolutely have to write it. Eventually. Obvi. (Actually, it's up next after i finish my East German Stucky Spy Lunacy, shhhhhhhhh.) Leverage -- i also have one Leverage fic. i have literally no idea how that happened. None. This fic basically walked out onto the page and said, my turn. 😂 It did give me a really good opportunity to create an original character though.

4. do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Always. ALWAYS. i love and appreciate each one, from a row of emojis to a page of analysis. i go back often and re-read them, just to motivate myself. People who leave comments are the real heroes. (Although i do understand that not everyone has the spoons to comment, and that's OK, too. Just know that if you leave me a single emoji i will love it no less than if you write a dissertation. 💖💖💖)

5. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that i know of. But i haven't checked either.

6. have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes -- The Sword and The Heart, an epic rewrite of OUAT S5 i tackled with the amazing @ohmightydevviepuu. If you have never collaborated with another writer, i strongly urge you to try it. i learned things about myself and my writing that i am still benefiting from to this day and i am immensely proud of what we created together. However, that is pretty much due to dev being the best collaborator ever. (Get yourself someone you trust and love and yet challenges you at every turn, is what i'm saying.)

7. what’s your all-time favourite ship?

That's a hard question, because affinity does change -- and why wouldn't it. We change, become different people, and sometimes the things we used to bleed for no longer resonate quite as hard. Like - my OG ship was Buffy /Angel, and i have the absolute soft spot of all time for them, but also i'm (obviously) no longer in high school and so the urgency has subsided. There have been a few other ships i've sideswiped over the years, characters i absolutely loved but never quite got 'ship-invested' in. (Shipvested? 😂) Personally, one factor is definitely that i did not know what a fandom was, or even that there was 'fandom' (as a concept, a community, a Thing) until Captain Swan tore a hole in my heart five years ago. i didn't really know what fanfic was. Or AO3. Apparently i live under a rock. But currently, the tl;dr is a dead tie between Stucky, Captain Swan, and James Holden /Naomi Nagata from The Expanse. With lots of honorable mentions bringing up the rear. 😂

8. what are your writing strengths?

Plot, dialogue, world building, and having characters stay true to their nature even when seen through various AU lenses, i think. Also action and fights and sometimes even battles. And i think i have a knack for letting exposition bleed through action and dialogue, instead of writing it outright. (That last one is a hard-won skill and kills me dead at least once a chapter, you feel me.) i also put a ridiculous amount of research into everything. Seriously, it's a sickness. i once spent more than two hours looking up radio dramas from the 30s that had a supernatural bent and might appeal to teenagers. For half a throwayway line. Possibly i should not list this as a strength. 😂

9. what are your writing weaknesses?

Smut. SMUT ALL THE WAY. i cannot write it, i don't know how. People who read my fic will always get shortchanged in the E department and for that i am sorry. But i really am completely useless on the smut front. And fluff. i can do soft scenes, but i cannot write pure fluff. i don't know how to do that either. i'll write a fucking coffee shop oneshot, or a thieves AU that doesn't even crack 5K, or even a BARTENDER fic, and yet complex back story and plot and action will still burst out from between the lines. All you people out there who can just tear off a sex scene or a fluff piece, i salute you. Also all you people who have multiple WIPs. i don't know how you do it. i can only ever write one fic at a time. You are all wizards, aren't you.

10. first fandom you wrote for?

OUAT /Captain Swan, back in 2019.

Zero pressure tags: @sparkagrace @cable-knit-sweater @bittersweet-in-boston @late-to-the-party-81 @metalbvcky @voylitscope

[matchatransistor]

Post-Exam Destress

I haven't officially posted my writing in while but uhhh...

Happy Valentine's Day!

I may post this on AO3 in my collection of short stories about these two :)

Boomer preemptively flinches as he clicks the submit and then subsequently exhales a relieved sigh. Holy shit he passed... Actually, he passed the homework. The rest of the class was still up in the air. He really shouldn’t have put off doing biology II. It was straight memorization. He hated it. At least physics and calculus were fun. Hell, even chemistry. And then then compared to his art specific courses? He could barely bring himself to open the biology pdf. Well, since his homework is done for now—he can relax a bit. His eyes flicker to the time on his computer. 5:40 pm. Buttercup’s class should be over by now.

*ding, ding*

He instinctively goes for his phone, and smiles. Right on time.

u still in the library?

Yup!

cool. almost there

Sure enough, the brunette soon walks through the automatic double doors of the library. A scowl, he notes, firm on her face. She drops her backpack on the floor and plops next him in the booth. “Hey, Booms.”

“Uh, hey, Butters! How was the exam?”

She narrows her emerald orbs and rests her forehead on the table. “I failed. I already know it.”

“No, you didn’t! I’m sure you did fine,” he encourages.

“Dude, there was almost no statistics, and he spent most of the time on that!” She briskly faces him, her cheek on the wooden surface. “Do you know what acroposthitis is? Because I sure as hell don’t.”

“Acro-what?”

“That’s what I said.”

The blond gives her a sympathetic smile and rubs her back. “Okay, but I know you, I’m sure you figured out enough for you to pass.”

Her mouth opens to say more, but instead, her gaze falls to the floor. “... Thanks. How about you? Bio going any better?”

He screws his face in contemplation. He’s managed to pull himself out of the danger zone. “I think so, but it’s still hella boring.”

“It’s biology,” she replies matter-of-factly and pats his knee. “Glad one of us is doing okay at least.”  

Boomer continues to rub her back. “Hey, it’ll be okay! We got this, and if we fail, we fail together.”

“... That doesn’t sound as sweet as you think,” Buttercup remarks, forehead now resting on her forearm.

The blond thinks over what he just said. She’s got a point. Either way, he knows her. She’s definitely not going to fail. From what she’s told him, this is the only class she’s been frustrated with this semester. Per her grumblings, it seems the issue is more her professor and not the actual subject matter. The art major is sure she gets the material fine. He peers down at her. He just wishes she would know that; she doesn’t work best when she’s stressed. Maybe he can take her mind off this crisis for a little while.

“What are we gonna do for our next date?”

She lifts her head up to look at him. “Huh?”

“Our date,” he repeats with a light chuckle. “What do you wanna do?”

“Hmm,” her onyx brows furrow as she ponders. He smiles. He always found that cute. “How about we hit up the arcade?”

“Again? That’d be three times in a row.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “Like you didn’t have fun?”

“I definitely didn’t say that...” He smirks at her with half-lidded eyes, remembering them sneaking off during their last game of laser tag.

Catching his insinuation, her cheeks flush and her gaze flits away. “Uh, well... you have any better ideas?”

The art major folds his arms and leans back against the booth. For some reason, he wants to go out-out. They’ve been dating for a little over a year and usually default to home visits—they love to relax and chill, but he wants to shake things up a little. With something other than the arcade, but something they could do—just the two of them. A catharsis to get rid of her post-exam worries. ‘Hm...’ No rock or metal bands are performing this upcoming weekend. Nothing of note going on downtown... He beams. He’s got it.

“Let’s do karaoke!”

She snaps up from her reclining position. “What?! I don’t sing.”

“Liar! I bet you’re an amazing singer.”

The dark-clad woman rolls her eyes. “And you know because...?” She trails off, with a sarcastic wave of her hand.

“Because you have a great voice. I love hearing you talk,” he sincerely explains.

Her eyes dart away, and she brushes her hair behind her ear. “That’s... u-um... Well, people can sound totally different when they sing! I could be totally tone-deaf.”

He laughs. “But you’re not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see on Friday.”

Chartreuse eyes flash back to him. “I never agreed to go.”

“Aw, c’mon! It’ll be fun!”

“Booms-”

“Please~,” he drags out and utilizes his notorious puppy dog eyes. He knows she’ll have a great time. “I’ll pick out the perfect playlist and everything.”

The criminal science major groans. “Shit, okay.”

“Yes,” he cheers and raptures her in a hug. “You’re gonna love it. Trust me.”

She side-eyes him, but then sighs with a soft smile. “I better or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Sounds kinky.”

“Oh, my-! Shut up!” she laughs, pushing him away.

[zeldaelmo]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by my wonderful friend @bahbahhh.

__

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

77

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

484,215

My goal for 2023 was to hit the 500,000 and I'm positive I'll reach it.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Legend of Zelda, all games apart from Zelda I, II, and Minish Cap (because I haven't played them so far)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

How to name a royal child

Stolen Kisses

Strangers in the Night

It's in his Kiss

Flour, water, salt, yeast, love

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Uh... in theory, I do. I love getting comments but I often feel stupid saying ten times 'thank you' in a row, so I end up answering mostly when I have something to say.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be Lonely at the Top. I don't really write angsty endings, but this one is hurt/no comfort as it tackles Link visiting the Light Dragon who doesn't even react to him.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hm...I'm not too fond of the fanfic version of the perfect happy ending, namely, proposal, sappy wedding, and omg, twins!, mainly because I love the nuance life teaches us. What a happy ending for a fic and a character is, is so often much more different than the fairy tale version.

That being said, I'd still go with Strangers in the Night, just because the two worked so damn hard for their happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Hate is a big word, but I get negative comments and sometimes they are even personal, yes. Most people are lacking reading competence and/or don't understand how stories work. I mostly ignore those. Sometimes I complain on discord if it's very annoying. If someone insults me, I block.

I don't think that has to do so much with me, though. I have 1,346 comment threads on my stories. Of course, there are some idiots among them, that's life.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, occasionally. I think ten of 77 fics are explicit. Look, the thing is, I'm a story teller. So if the smut doesn't add to the story, I don't tell it. Rule of thumb is, that I keep it to a T-rating if possible to make the story accessible to most people. I only go for explicit stuff if I want to deliver some part of the character development/plot with the intimacy (or the lack of lol) that the smut offers.

Does that get me the most Kudos? No. But I'm not here for that or I wouldn't bother writing for 30 years old games. I'm here to tell a good story and have fun. :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No. If you've read so far, I can tell you a secret as a reward: I find crossovers pointless. Ooops.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I am aware of! But I'd love to! Big fan of accessibility!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I've seen a few writing collabs end in fandom drama or otherwise go awry, so I decided that I only collab with artists. I might try with something short one day, but nothing novel-length.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Take a guess.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ah, so I have a half-written novel in my drafts. A story about writer!Zelda and fanartist!Link who are also princess and beloathed bodyguard. I'm very determined to go back to that one after I finished The Promise, but I'm a little scared. The story is complicated and my thoughts are chaotic. I already asked @mistresslrigtar to help me work it out next year, so I hope we'll manage.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and showing what's going on in the character's head who's not the POV character.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with simplicity sometimes, mainly because of the language barrier. I write something that's horribly complicated and I just know there must be a better way to put it, but I can't figure it out. Grammar is hard, lads.

I also have a weird relationship with descriptions. I love having characters interact with their environment but I loath big chunks of description. I plan to work on this during my traditional holiday self-study break.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

This is a weirdly specific question, but ok.

If you don't happen to write a book that's supposed to teach beginners the other language, then don't. You might end up othering the person who's speaking and that's something you don't want to dabble with lightly.

I already talked about accessibility: You will exclude people from your writing and you don't want that just to sound cool. If you must for plot reasons, make otherwise sure everyone is on board. Slightly different case if you actively hide something from your readers (and other characters), but that's probably not the most common case.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

LoZ

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I refuse to answer this. 77 fics are too much to choose from. I love most of them.

_

tagging: @mistresslrigtar, @airplanned, @jenseits-der-sterne, @silentprincess17, @deiliamedlini, @skyyknights

[wellhalesbells]

TAG SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KNOW AND/OR SOME OF YOUR BESTIES

Tagged by @kikiroo - thank you, my darling!!! *friendly shark bites at you*

Last song: Probably either The Man or Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift. I just spent a week with my sister on vacation and she had just watched the Eras Tour movie so she was getting both of those stuck in my head all the time, and then we'd have to listen to them ofc.

Last movie: It was Host by Rob Savage (or at least it was when I started this, lol). I watched it 'cause I saw something on Insta about the Top 10 Scariest Movies according to what the average resting heart rate is for it. I didn't find it very scary (got me at the end though, woo boy) but I did love it - but then I love things that use the pandemic well and this definitely did imo. Plus it's all structured around (and shot through) a Zoom interface so it's only, like, fifty-seven minutes long because that's all you get when you don't pay for Zoom, haha.

Currently watching: Goosebumps, Last Week Tonight, The Fall of the House of Usher, Two Sentence Horror Stories, Our Flag Means Death and Ghost Files and I am half-assing all of it. I've either only started the first episode or only watched the first episode on all of those. I have no staying power these days. Though I am only one ep behind on Last Week Tonight \o/

Other stuff I watched this year: Unfortunately for you guys, I write fucking everything down and it is now the tenth month of the year. I GOT RECS. Well, Meg 2: The Trench, which is a cinematic masterpiece and I will take no questions on that (unless they're Joming related). (Cognizant of the month) Here are spooky things I watched this year and liked a lot: X, The Black Phone, The Menu, Terrifier and Terrifier 2 (this is definitely only for gore fans though), Bodies Bodies Bodies, Cocaine Bear (also a cinematic masterpiece, also not taking questions), Interview with the Vampire, Wednesday, Severance, Evil, The Last of Us, Over the Garden Wall, Magpie Murders, What We Do in the Shadows, and Shining Vale (haven't started the second season yet!). Also really liked: Paddington, Nimona, Barbie, Spider-man: Across the Spider-verse, Vivo, Derry Girls, The Bear, The Boys, Mythic Quest, Only Murders in the Building (I haven't watched the new season yet though but I expect great things), Reboot, Tuca & Bertie, Los Espookys, Barry, Extraordinary, Crashing (I literally watched it three times in a row - watching Sam and Fred fall in love 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 plus I fucking love Jonathan Bailey - I consistently find him ridiculously charming), Hacks, Avenue 5 (so sad this got canceled when I feel like it just hit its stride), Staged (I've watched it probably six times now), Abbott Elementary, A Black Lady Sketch Show, Ted Lasso, I Think You Should Leave Now (just for that one sketch, you know the one and, if you don't, I am HAPPY to tell you about it!), Unstable (petition for Fred Armisen to be in everything though, right?), Black Mirror, Central Park, Elite (I haven't watched the new season yet!), Reservation Dogs (ditto), The White Lotus, Good Omens, Letterkenny, Minx (what's ditto but for the third time?), Heartstopper, Sasaki and Miyano, and The Other Two.

Shows I dropped/didn’t finish: I'm behind on everything all the time so I'm only going to answer for shows I dropped and I don't think I've dropped any this year?

Currently reading: The Dead Take the A Train by Cassandra Khaw & Richard Kadrey (about halfway through), House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski (I'll be reading this until I die, I think), Cunk on Everything by Philomena Cunk, The Fragile Threads of Power by V.E. Schwab (nearly finished!), The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E. Smith, My Darling Girl by Jennifer McMahon and The Vampire Lestat by Anne Rice (decided to do a reread of the IwtV series this year since I never actually finished it and only got to book ten and I read it way too long ago to remember anything that's happening if I just picked it up now).

Currently listening to: My calendar alarm telling me to go to my dog's vet appointment.

Currently working on: getting at least a third of the way through My Darling Girl

Also absolutely no pressure tagging @andavs, @callunavulgari, @piratefalls, @clotpolesonly, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[shewritesinblackink]

The missing hunter - a supernatural fanfic

reposting this because i originally posted it on my main "private" blog but since i started writing more and posting more i thought why not make a blog just for that :) this fanfic takes place in the early years of the show since i’m only on season 10. I really like the vibe of the three/four first seasons. That’s also why Sam can’t crack the security camera– they haven't learned that yet :)

here's the AO3 link because i like posting there too, and i get more feedback thanks to the tags there!

part 2

words count: 2k

tw: blood, swearing, mention of a gun

part 1 - the missing member

“I don’t know what to say, Bobby,” Dean declared to the man at the other end of the phone.

The brothers were in a motel room in the middle of nowhere. Bobby had sent them there to find someone dear to him that disappeared a few days ago. But so far, they had no lead.

“Her stuff is still in the room, uh?”

Dean turned around from the parking lot to take another look at the small place. “Yeah, still here.”

There was silence and then Bobby’s voice broke through the phone’s speaker.

“That’s not like her. She might be in some kind of trouble.”

A frown appeared on Dean’s face. He'd never heard Bobby sound so helpless. That person, that woman whoever she was, must be someone precious to him.

“What do you want us to do?”

Sam was seated on the single large bed in the room, his laptop on his knees, fidgeting with the keyboard.

“I’ll give you her number. Maybe she’ll answer if it’s not me.” The pain in those last words made Dean sad. Who was she for Bobby to care so much and act like this?

Dean hung up, closed the door and walked toward Sam.

“What’d he say?”

“To try to call her.”

The look on Dean and Sam’s face said it all. They were aware the worst could have happened. Dean dialed the number and waited a few seconds before a ringtone was heard in the room. The two of them released a small sigh, stood up and searched for the device. The eldest found it under the bed, the battery almost dead and the screen cracked in half. He held it up for Sammy to see, and they both exchanged a look. Something bad definitely happened here.

They decided to go back to town and retrace every last step of the missing person. It led them to a bar on the avenue. A row of motorcycles were parked in front of the establishment, and the facade was all dark wood which added to the pouring rain and gloomy atmosphere. Everything in this town is dark and creepy, Dean thought.

They entered and were welcomed by suspicious glares from guys all around the place. Some were seated at tables drinking beer , others were playing billiards but stopped the moment the brothers appeared. The bartender shot them a look of annoyance. Clearly the people here didn't like strangers.

Nonetheless, Sam cleared his throat and asked, "Um, hi. We're looking for a young woman.”

"So am I." said a voice somewhere and the other men laughed.

Dean felt exasperated by their behavior and wanted only one thing at the moment: to get the hell out of there. So he talked, a bit too abruptly maybe. "Young, brown hair, pale skin, and approximately this size," he measured by holding up a hand. Truly he didn't know the woman, but Bobby gave them a description since he had no recent pictures of her.

The bartender snorted noisily and kept swiping off drops of water on the beer mugs in his hands.

"Depends what I get for helping you?"

There was no cooperation, and the Winchesters started to lose patience.

"Listen, buddy, it's a life or death situation here. She might be in danger, we need to find her." Dean's voice was low and raw, he could barely control himself not to punch the man in the face.

He slightly opened his brown leather jacket with the hand holding a shiny silver gun. The barman repressed an insult and took a quick look around.

“Look, if i were you, i wouldn’t show this to anyone here.” “Question of life and death.” he added pointedly to mock the brothers.

His sarcastic tone did not escape Dean, whose gaze became sharper, harder. Finally the man behind the bar started saying something interesting.

“There aren’t a lot of women comin’ in here, so yeah i remember some chick comin’ in. She sat at the bar and drank a scotch.”

Sam leaned forward, “Anything else?”. The  man grunted but continued. “There was something weird about her, like she was on edge. She was constantly looking behind her shoulder.” He put the glass behind the bar and leaned on the counter, then added “I mean maybe she didn’t feel safe here since she was the only woman.”

“Did something happen? Did she leave with someone?” Dean pressed, raising his eyebrows.

The barman seemed to think for a moment. “Yup, I think I remember her leaving with some guys.”

“Anything weird or unusual about the guy?”

“He was grabbing her by the arm. Not in a gentle way, you know. It seemed she wasn't willing to go with them.”

“And you didn’t call the police or stop them?” asked Sam almost with a shocked tone.

“Why would I?”

Dean's patience was more than thin now. If he stayed one more minute he would definitely shoot the man right here, right now. “Alright, enough. let’s go Sammy.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “which direction did they take?” The barman didn’t even bother speaking, and just pointed the way with his head.

And so they strode out of the bar toward the Impala, in the light rain that hadn’t stopped since their arrival. “Oh I swear this rain is making me crazy. Everything about this town is weird, man.” Dean muttered, his hands on the wheel, driving the car out of the parking back on the road. Since there was nothing for miles in the direction the man had indicated, they decided to go back to the motel room and wait in the car in case she showed up.

Sammy also tried to take a look at the security camera, but his skills with a laptop weren’t that sophisticated.  He couldn’t break into the town website to access the cameras. So they waited. Dean eventually went out to fetch dinner, and they waited for hours.

Finally, when they were both struggling to keep their eyes open, a silhouette appeared. In the dark night it was impossible to guess who it was, but the stranger stopped at the door of the room they were watching, and after a moment struggling with the key, the shadowy silhouette disappeared inside the room. The Winchesters didn’t waste a second and got out of the car toward the room’s door as if they weren’t about to fall asleep a second ago.

It wasn’t locked from the inside, so they pushed it slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible because who knows who was- or what was, that silhouette.

The boys entered the small room slowly, guns in hands. The lights were on but the place was empty. A noise came out from the bathroom followed by a grunt. At the very moment the brothers appeared at the bathroom’s door, the silhouette turned around and held a gun at them.

“Drop the gun! Now!”

“Who are you?”

“You, who are you?”

The three of them pointing guns at each other and yelling in confusion would’ve been a funny image if the tension was not that palpable and if the stranger was in a less miserable state.

“You’re two against one, that’s not really fair.” The voice was calm and steady but felt a bit out of breath. Indeed, the silhouette was soaked in blood, her clothes dirty with mud and rain. Her hair was a mess, clearly she hadn’t had access to any commodities for a few days.

“Wait,” said Sam, “are you y/n?”

Suspicious, the woman kept the boys at gunpoint, clutching her weapon like a lifeline. “How would you know?” she asked, her brows furrowed and her chest heavy with short breaths.

“Dean, I think it’s her.” And with that assumption they both lowered their guns. “Bobby sent us looking for you.”

“Looking for me?” she asked, as if she hadn’t understood Sam’s sentence in the first place and needed confirmation of what she heard. But all of a sudden the world started to spin and she wasn’t steady on her feet anymore. She stumbled back against the sink and let her arm fall down by her side, the gun pointed toward the ground. She placed the back of a bloodied hand against her forehead and closed her eyes tight, trying to make the room stop spinning and the white stars popping in her visions disappear.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean knew it was a stupid question considering how dirty and tired she seemed, so he added, “you hurt?”

And all y/n was capable of doing at this very moment was to stare at the two boys in front of her, her memory working like a DVD on fast forward. She couldn’t stop. Maybe didn’t want to, because her brain brought back memories she thought were long forgotten. She doubted they even remembered her at all, and at that thought her heart skipped a beat.

“Hello? Anyone in here?” Dean pressed sarcastically, like he was talking to some stupid teenager.

Getting back her senses, y/n cleared her throat and articulated a week “yeah” that sounded more like an exhausted plea. The brothers didn’t seem to buy it either, judging by the concerned look they both shot at her.

“Seriously, I'm fine. Just.. tired.”

“Where the hell were you to make Bobby worry-sick?”

What? Dawn almost choked on her own saliva. Bobby being so worried he’d send John’s boys after her? Why would he do such a thing when she’s already proved numerous times she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself? And suddenly emotions flooded in her. Not good emotions. “Why are you here? I’m a grown up, I can watch out for myself. I’ve been hunting my whole life y’know.” The words came out more harshly than she’s intended to. She stormed out of the bathroom, bumping into the boys, barely suppressing a wince because of her bruises.

In her backpack was a first aid kit. She took it and sat on the bed while taking off her dirty sweatshirt. But by the time she was opening the kit to fetch out something useful, Dean snatched it off her hands. “Hey! We’re talking to you here! We drove hours to come here because Bobby asked us to! Because he was worried you’d get yourself into trouble, and that’s how you’re thanking us?”

Dean was pissed. Sam though didn’t say a thing but gave his brother’s arm a slight hit. “Dude, c’mon. Look at her.” That’s what Dean did, he took in the messy states she was in. Blood on her left temple, trailing down her chin and neck, the right cheek looking slightly bruised. Cuts all over her arms and dirt on her hands and under her nails, even on her face. She seemed like someone who had just spent hours in filthy air ducts. Or in the forest running after something– or running for her life maybe.

No one said a word for what seemed to be an eternity, then y/n stood up slowly and walked back to the bathroom to try to wash out her hands, arms and face. She winced every time she touched a cut or a bruise but did not let it show. She was facing John’s boys, and she knew by experience that there were nothing that could make them flinch. So she did what she always forced herself to do since she met them when they were only kids. She clenched her jaw, and kept her composure as neutral as she could– but she was so tired, the dark circles under her eyes said it all.

[dumb-hat]

FFXIVwrite 2022 Recap

(To start, here's a link to the 2022 masterpost, just in case I haven't spammed the link enough elsewhere.)

During the last two writing challenges, I was working the night shift at an exceptionally shady hotel, which made it difficult to carve out time to participate. I got a chunk done for 2020, but for 2021, I think I only managed two. This year, I have a much more normal human schedule and I had high hopes of leveraging that to write a lot more.

I did alright, I think. I got 24 of them done, though a few of them didn't quite make it in before the deadline. That's... yeah, that's pretty good, I think. I had hopes of getting one done every day, but while my new schedule is better, it's not perfect. I usually only had a window to write within a narrow time frame somewhere in the hour or two before the daily deadline, which sent some of them squeaking in perilously close to the deadline, and some of them well after it. A lot of the writing felt rushed, and I felt like I kind of ended up going back to the same few wells a lot, and if I'm being honest, those wells were, uh, well frequented in 2020 already.

But.

Hey.

Altogether, I did more of the prompts in 2022 than I did in 2020 and 2021 combined. That's kinda neat.

It's always kind of interesting to see what gets traction and what doesn't, and to see where that overlaps with the things that I wrote that I actually liked. So, what did I like? Well, I had fun with the freebie prompts this year, using each one as an excuse to delve into this blog's titular dumb hat. If you haven't seen those and you're curious, you can find them at Heirloom, Perspective, Memory, and Dumb Hat. I also really liked Row.

Honestly though, while I set out to write more this September, the main thing I wanted to accomplish was just to make this little blog feel a bit like home again. I've never been one of the great (or even good, or even mediocre) tumblrers, but once upon a time, I was kind of active. I know everyone says that the writing challenge is about building a daily writing habit, but (for better or worse!) it really helped me rebuild more of a daily tumblr habit. Well, I mean, outside of reblogging bird comics almost every day. I was weirdly consistent about that, somehow.

I'm not sure how well I'll maintain the presence, but hey, let's pretend I do. So, what's next?

I dunno. I should probably redo that LFRP /masterpost like I keep saying. I should really touch up the carrd, too. That thing's really out of date, and one of the (late, unsubmitted) prompts I did was a rewrite of the little thing I had on there anyway. Which probably means I need to either take or cajole @luck-and-larceny into taking some new screenshots. I've got a handful of asks from right before the challenge started, and a prompt/meme/whatever-thing or two I was tagged in during the challenge, so I should probably get those done, too.

Or, hey, I could just keep reblogging the rude bird art. There's always that, right?

[arialis]

hey @se-rarepair-day I HEARD TODAY’S THE DAY AND I HAVE A THING :D 

MANY MANY THANKS TO @soundofez FOR ALL THE ENCOURAGEMENT AND UBER PATIENT BETAING, YOU’RE THE BEST <333

They're standing under an overpass, the stink of paint soaking into their bones and highway air seeping into their lungs, when it all crystallizes into a reality for Maka. It's a reality as precious as gold and diamonds in her shaking hands, and yet, somehow, she's not scared of it.

Because it's not a reality like spun glass, beautiful and delicate and so, so breakable. She can lean into it and trust, despite everything, that it won't shatter around her in a heartbeat, that its broken weight won't break her, too, on the way down.

It's unsurprisingly reminiscent of Star himself.

This kind of reality, the one they've found themselves in, is sturdy and strong because they made it that way. She's realizing she wants it to last as long as she does in this life, and maybe the next couple ones too.

.....

They're standing under an overpass, paint on their hands and cold air biting their skin, when he turns to Maka and suddenly it all slides into place.

It's the middle of the night, it's dark and it's cold and they're tagging an old bridge because this is their thing now, apparently, and there's nowhere else Star would rather be because she wouldn't be there.

And that's what all this was leading to, in the end - it was always building to this. He just had no idea for most of it because he’d always been completely blind when it came to her, and even now still was sometimes. Maybe it was because Maka was just that kind of bright, burning more than any star could dream of and blinding him in her brilliance, or maybe it was all on him.

Either way, there's nothing else they could've become.

.....

First impressions are useful, but they can still mislead. Of course, in the end it didn't matter that they couldn't stand each other at first, because they still gravitated around one another like stars in a binary system, forever orbiting. They balanced one another in a way that helped fill the holes in both their lives, even as they each became their own sun with their own solar systems, too.

In retrospect, it's a kind of funny and completely unsurprising case of animosity at first sight. They grew on each other and grew up together in the way kids do, learning life's rules and how to break them at the same time.

Maka's life was written in his bones, as surely as his was intertwined into her roots.

.....

By the time they were teenagers, meisters, soldiers in all but name (scared, brave, battle-scarred), they already knew they weren't just friends. (As if being friends could ever be, could ever mean just anything - they had been one of the most important parts of each other's lives as long as they could remember, even when they were 'just' friends and nothing else. Friendship mattered: Maka and Star would argue that to their dying day, both of them ready and willing to jump in front of anything to protect their weapons, each other, and the rest of their ‘just friends.’)

Regardless, they were a different kind of thing. Not friends, exactly, but not something else, either.

There wasn't time to think about it - not in the middle of the insanity, literal and figurative - so they didn't. Still, the feelings were there, real and undeniable in a way that changed things, made them different.

.....

Acknowledging that difference... that didn't come easily.

Becoming an 'us' from a 'you and me' was a process that happened in fits and starts, lunging forward a mile a minute and taking two- three- four steps back every other second in return. They were stubborn and they clashed, and somewhere in all that there was learning, because they didn't hurt each other as much these days, and never as deeply.

……

At some point along the way, tagging, graffiti, whatever you wanted to call it... it became their thing, a way to run away from the world they knew and paint themselves a new one (a better one), even if only for a night.

Star liked the thrill of potentially getting caught, while Maka enjoyed the process itself. They always went together, starting at opposite ends of their canvas and meeting in the middle, crossing over until they’d left their mark.

Sometimes he’d show up at her window at three in the morning, and sometimes it was her at his door too late to be normal for most people, but they’d always go, because it was an escape, a way to not think and just make. There was no expectation, no pressure to succeed, no one they could let down, because it wasn’t something that ever tied to them, wasn’t something anyone had a say in.

It was nice, to know that these hands of theirs could do more than just fight, that they could do something good and something wonderful. They left the world prettier than they found it, leaving a mark that wasn’t a bloodstain, for once. For all that it was illegal, their art was so much less morally ambiguous than destroying kishin, and so much more peaceful. Maybe it was cowardice, to think of it that way, to let it help them keep their sanity, but cowardice wasn’t always wrong. For all that Maka and Star believed in bravery, this cowardice kept their smiles more real, even as everything else around them imploded, and maybe there was nothing wrong with that.

Somewhere along the way, they got their acts together and started being honest, first with themselves, and then with each other. It was a completely new and different kind of happiness that bloomed between them, unique from anything either had felt before, but it was good and it was strong.

It was a hearth, a home - a warm flame to keep them safe and light their way as they moved forward in tandem, helping each other up when they stumbled and pushing one another to keep going. They got better, stronger, brighter, happier... together, hands wrapped around one another’s as a reminder that they weren’t alone, never would be.

……

A can of spray paint clatters to the concrete as Maka moves forward, voiding the distance between them, her hands gently cupping Star’s cheeks.

“Marry me?”

He gapes at her for a solid moment, breath catching in his lungs as he struggles to reconcile all his hopes coming true and it actually being real. The look on her face is determined, absolutely sure and confident that this is something she wants.

Star is quiet for too long, too stunned to react, until Maka’s eyes start shuttering closed from him. She’s retreating, hiding away to pretend it doesn’t hurt. He jolts into action. “Yes! Of course!” His grin could outshine the stars he was named after as he picks her up easily, swinging her around in a delighted hug as if she isn't made of just as much solid muscle as he is. “I’d always marry you, in this and every life we might ever have.”

Laughing at his words, relieved and so, so happy, she buries her face in his shoulder even as his hair tickles her and nearly makes her sneeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Star says, setting her down, though he doesn't pull away from the hug, and isn't going to, at least not anytime soon. “Kinda sucks though.”

“What does?”

“I was planning to ask you and then you beat me to the punch - that’s so unfair. I even have a ring!”

“You what?” she shrieks, wincing at the noise, expression immediately turning back to a beaming grin when he pulls a small box out of his pocket. “Wait, you brought it here?”

“Why not? You never know when the mood might strike - like it did with you, apparently.”

“We’re standing under a highway! In the middle of the night! Graffiting a giant column!”

“You’re the one who ended up proposing in this setting, so don’t even start-”

They’re grinning like idiots even as they bicker - this is them, and it’s absolutely and utterly perfect.

Star slides the ring onto her finger. Their hands are stained with paint, and nothing about this is traditionally ideal, but neither of them would change it for the world.

[7nessasaryevils]

Reveal Your Watch and Rewatch Drama List

My darlings @ohmnomnom and @ablazenqueen both tagged me in this so here we go!!!

CURRENTLY WATCHING

- My Ride

Available on GagaOooLala only unfortunately

Mork is my son and I will destroy anyone that even breathes on him wrong....but the queer rep in this is fucking fantastic and the friend groups are delightfully realistic but the absolute best thing about this show are the SENIOR GAYS (basically what I'm assuming Pat/Pran will grow up to be) who are just the fucking greatest and we don't ever get enough old gays rep in media and i love them

- Manner of Death

Available on DramaCool

Can you believe it's been 2 years and I haven't watched this show? I'm ashamed of myself....still the plot and the characters are fantastic (it's MaxTul should I expect anything less??) and I'm definitely intrigued to keep watching!

- Dear Doctor I'm Coming For Your Soul

Available on Youtube through Studio WabiSabi

The plotline is the only reason I'm interested at this moment because the characters haven't pulled me in just yet so fingers crossed

- Cherry Blossoms After Winter

Available on VikiRakuten

A sweet K-BL based in high school and doing a very good job of not working the obvious step-brother plotline. Our mains are very sweet if a bit stunted in the communication area but this is a BL I'm talking about...communication is stunted 99% of the time....

Notable Mentions for Cutie Pie and Enchante (both found on YouTube) which I'm watching only because my days need to be filled with BL and these will have to do

STARTING SOON

- KinnPorche!!!

Ohmyfuckimgonnagoferal I'm so excited for this especially after the new trailer dropped because we get to see our leads being in a sort of equal relationship rather than the obvious power imbalance in the OG trailer....plus the fact that the guy who plays Uncle Tong in BBS is the director for this gives me such hope....please do me a solid uncle tong!!!

- Gap

A new GL??!?!?!? From Thailand?!?!?!? Not lie I am very excited for this and I hope it does well....GIMME THE LESBIANS!

- Between Us

I have waited two years for the WinTeam....I will wait no longer (no seriously please don't make me wait I've missed them so much!)

REWATCHING

I say this with my full chest and with no shame....

-BAD BUDDY for the 7th time in a row and really it's fucking fantastic and painful to watch because I still catch little nuances and quirks like the fact that Pran hums the opening theme when he's busy writing the song in ep 2 while waiting for his food or the fact that after Pat tell Pran to come here and Pran stops Wai, Pat gives this little shake of his head that is the precursor to him being done with the secrets....I'm just...I love this show okay? And plus...watching it with someone who hasn't watched it yet is a fucking gift...

-Semantic Error because Chu Sangwoo and Jang Jaeyoung are precious babies and I miss them most dearly....

alright i'm gonna tag @talistheintrovert @prany @faillen @i-got-the-feels and @goldenmorningglory and whoever wants to try!!! have fun!!!

[space-mermaid-writing]

The Anchor - Chapter 7 [Doctor Strange x Reader]

Summary: Every Sorcerer Supreme has an anchor. Someone whose magic is compatible with theirs, ensures that he is additionally protected and prevents him from falling prey to evil forces. You grew up in Kamar-Taj and studied the Mystic Arts there, but then you traveled the world looking for a more quiet life, a life away from magic and superheroes. When you return and meet the new Sorcerer Supreme, it soon becomes clear that you share a special connection.

Tags: Slow Burn, Reader is a master of the Mystic Arts, Magic!Reader, spells and magic

Read it on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter’s Notes: Happy New Year! May all your realistic dreams come true. Beta by @portia77. Have a great year!

Chapter 7: An Apology

The next day begins for you in the late morning, when you wake up and realize that you are really well-rested. Still, you don't feel good, because now that the anger has faded, your nighttime behavior makes you uncomfortable. Normally, you’re better at resolving conflicts.

After a quick shower, you roam the Sanctum and find Wong in the library, where he's already back to cataloging books.

You step up to him.

"Master Wong, I need some guidance."

He turns to you and eyes you. Apparently he's noticed your serious expression, and also your formal tone, which you haven't used toward him in a long time.

"What's it about?"

"I guess the connection between the Sorcerer Supreme and the Anchor is overwhelming me. It's there all the time. I can't concentrate, I can't sleep, and I make mistakes at work," you blurt out, sharing with him all the worries that have been plaguing you for some time. "I don't know if I'm the right person for this anymore."

Wong sets aside the book he's holding, and with a wave of his hand, an enchanted quill on a nearby table stops writing.

"It's certainly not unusual to have to get used to this first. Strange is not an easy character to deal with. But your strengths have always been calmness and patience."

His voice isn't loud, but he's perfected that tone that makes everything sound like wise advice.

You shake your head.

"He's driving me crazy. And I know I'm whining, but isn't there anything that can help me block him out of my mind?"

"If there was, I would have used it myself by now." Wong ponders for a moment. "Yesterday I had a book in my hand about telepathic abilities. It's not quite the same, but maybe similar enough."

He walks through the rows of shelves, then pulls out a rather small book.

"Here. Maybe it will help you."

"Thanks," you say, relieved that there is at least hope.

"Don't feel bad about having a hard time right now," Wong says to you. "You've always been empathetic to others. That's why you're probably feeling the effects of the connection more than he is."

"Sometimes I wish I were more like a non-empathic stone. I bet it's easier," you murmur.

"But also lonelier."

You don't know how to respond to that, because Wong is usually right, even if he sometimes sounds like a very old man.

You thank him again and then go back to your room to read the book.

Besides, you don't feel like a confrontation with Strange just yet, so you get your breakfast by magic.

The book is interesting and tells you a lot about telepathy and its users. They come in different skill levels: some can hear all thoughts of everyone around them all the time, others can do it at will. In part, it's a matter of training, but their talent also matters.

Unfortunately, there is no example in the book of a permanent telepathic connection between two people. Which reminds you to be thankful that you can’t read Strange’s thoughts.

Instead, you discover some precaution against others interfering with your own mind. It's almost like a sound barrier you put up.

You decide to try it out right away.

With the page open in front of you, you take a breath and focus on your connection to the Sorcerer Supreme. He's somewhere downstairs in the house, probably in the basement vaults, but otherwise behaving rather quietly.

You perform the written spell, focusing on your own body and trying to leave Strange's presence outside as if you were in house. You can see him if you look out of the window, but you close the front door, and almost immediately you have your own peace back.

The outside disturbance is reduced to a minimum, and for the first time since the revelation of the Anchor, you’re feeling like being alone within yourself.

Satisfied, you open your eyes.

A short gesture lets the chain from your chest light up for a moment and convince you that everything else is still as it should be.

You leave your room in a better mood. But you still have one more thing to do.

You meet Stephen at the grand staircase in the entry hall. He climbs up the stairs and wants to pass you wordlessly, giving you your space. But you stand in front of him to get out what you have to say.

"Wait, please. I need to apologize for my behavior last night," you say, and he stops. Since he's standing one step lower than you, you're about eye level.

"I'm listening."

You don't care if he sounds all haughty again. Your mom taught you some manners.

"I was overreacting and unfair. And although the issue concerns both of us, I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you."

"Apology accepted," Strange replies, but doesn't seem to want to say anything else about it, so you give him leave again and descend the steps.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear his voice again.

"You were right," he admits, and you turn to face him. "At least about some things. I've always worked on my own so far. So if you'll be patient with me and tell me what to look out for, I'll try to be more considerate."

He knows he made a similar mistake with Christine back then. She had always supported him, even after his accident when many had turned away from him. Because he could no longer work with them and was generally not in good shape. But he had not appreciated her, had not even seen her properly. And that, although they had been a couple.

He hasn’t known you for a long time, but there is more at stake, namely the safety of this and other worlds. Besides, Stephen wants to believe that he has changed at least a little bit, and learned something from his past.

That's why your words, which could just as well have come from Christine, hit him particularly hard last night. He doesn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

"That would be nice," you smile.

~~

You're sitting in one of the larger study rooms, flipping through some of your old notes from your days when you were just a student of Kamar-Taj.

After years of being absent and traveling a world with almost no magic, there are some things you need to refresh. First of them being healing spells.

You've never been very good at that. It's your mother's field, she's a master at it.

As a teenager, you weren't particularly interested in it, you just learned the basics so you wouldn't bleed to death in an emergency. And that was only because your mother had insisted on it.

Of course, it has come in handy many times since then.

Now you've got your old notes out again and you're going through them. Maybe you’ll ask a healing master in Kamar-Taj for a lesson to get some practical practice.

Relaxed, you reach for your tea and let your eyes wander to the window. Only when Stephen calls your name from the hallway do you look up.

"Come on, duty calls."

You leave your studies and hurry after him with quick steps.

"Someone has released hellhounds in the streets. Wong is informing Kamar-Taj."

As you explain, the cloak comes flying by and wraps around Stephen's shoulders. Quickly, you slap the side of your cubits together, and your Bracers of Protection appear.

Strange creates a portal through which you walk out into the streets of New York. Immediately, sounds of chaos can be heard: Screams, hoots, crashes, and the howls of creatures that make your hair stand on end, coupled with a sort of sinister barking.

You run first in the direction of the screams, because it's clearly coming from humans. Out of the corner of your eye, you register Stephen hovering upward, presumably to get a better view.

People in a panic come running toward you, and as you turn the next corner, you see the first creature: a huge dog, about the size of a bear, only slimmer, with shaggy fur that seems to be burned in many places. Instead of skin, you see bones. Part of its rib cage is open, and pointy parts of its spine stick out from the top of its back.

It has strong paws with sharp claws, with which he is in the process of tearing apart a car in which someone is still sitting.

Without giving it a second thought, you create a magic circle around the animal and pull it closed like a lasso. It closes around the hounds leg and brings it to fall.

With a growl, the beast rolls on the ground and pulls itself free. It leaps up and looks around for the interruption. Its four blood-red eyes, spotting you.

At least you've distracted it from the car.

You quickly jump for cover as the beast runs toward you. If there are more of these monsters around, you'll definitely need backup.

____________________

Tag list: @calsjack

[freddiefcknmercury]

A Promise(part 2)- Crimson & Clover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader(Black coded/Genderless)

Word Count: 2.7+

Warnings/Disclaimer: SMUT. ANGST. cursing. mild depression/heart-ache. etc etc. if something needs to be tagged please lemme know.

A/N: LOL I'm back on my bullshit yall. heavy angst/depression from the previous Steve centered storyline so if you haven't read "You really think I didn't know?" I'll do some magic linky links here and at the bottom just in case. Also I'm trying something kinda different with the way I post the fics so feedback is welcome.

ALSO this one comes with a tiny playlist! there are Bolded lyrics throughout if you want to get a deeper sense of where I was emotionally writing this and where reader is as well you can Def give these songs a listen, they are in order of appearance:

Crimson & Clover- Tommy James & The Shondells

Every Time I Breathe- Arlissa

Navy Blue - Hasani

Summary: Bucky takes an extended leave for "work" related reasons and reader slips back into some dark places in his absence...

~*As always, be Nice to me I’m Delicate*~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He said he might be gone most of the week. Sam called the day before and all you know is it's something important. He didn't go into detail, just packed a bag and you'd never seen him do that before. But he was also only gone a day or two at a time and never felt the need to tell you about it before now either.

Up until recently you'd tip-toe around each other. Not like you used to with Steve though, worse. Bucky is a lot better at making sure you don't know he's there until it's too late. It felt like you'd never get used to each other, or more likely that you'd never want to. You might've still been secretly hoping that he'd stop caring and go away... after a while you got tired of your own bullshit and realized he's giving off that vibe on purpose. Wordlessly telling you how you should feel about him, not wanting to get too close. You never much liked being told what to do.

It was only about two months before you became a Barnes' expert. You'd sit up at night listening intently for when he'd shower, get in bed, or wake up. He never slept more than five maybe six hours at a time, you'll never understand how he can function like that. You know how he likes his coffee, which angle he holds his cup. How and where he takes off his shoes, how much ice he puts in a drink, the way he likes to cut his toast, and what time he has to do all of it. There's an almost unnerving pattern to him, one that's always been there and you were just unwilling to notice for so long, and you're not sure if he's even aware of it.

You woke up to him already gone. You knew he was leaving but actually being left alone like that unsettled you more than you anticipated, a serious case of Deja vu. You went into your routine like normal, because everything still was, but by the fifth day... you stepped into the front room and got that empty feeling. One you hadn't really had since...

It stopped you for a few seconds longer than you liked and a large knot formed in your stomach. You spent the whole day trying to ignore the feeling but it only got worse. Like a hunger pain but much more vague, crawling through each muscle. You'd catch yourself staring at his room, Bucky's room but also... Steve's. It's the first time you let yourself admit to him fully crossing your mind in over a year.

You laid up in bed, trying to count the metaphorical sheep to no avail. Getting up thinking that a snack or a warm drink will stop the restlessness, you pause in the tiny hallway shared by your bedrooms. The low blue light from the moon outside dustily illuminating the space through  a cloudy bathroom window. You stare at the door like any second he's going to ask what you're doing up so late and you can tell him to mind his own business while pouring two cups of tea.

You just wanted to touch the knob; turn it to make sure it still works- that you're still "allowed in there if you want". But stepping inside was too far, an invasion of Bucky's privacy, and you felt it. But you couldn't help yourself. You needed to know.

They were definitely cut from the same cloth. Sparse furnishings and no decorations, save a few very small trinkets he'd held onto from who knows where. There is exactly one row on his bookshelf filled with composition notebooks that were beat to hell and back. Sticky notes lined the edge of most of the pages, so much so that they easily could've been mistaken for feathers on a quick glance. You dare not touch them. Observing someone with a past that checkered is very different to reading into the things they deem worthy of physically writing down.

Where Steve used to leave small drawings and notes Bucky left half empty ink pens and a few well used pairs of gloves. You saunter to the far corner of the room and caress a worn leather jacket hanging precariously on the lowest peg of a coat rack. Doing a slow sweep of the space something in the otherwise barren closet catches your eye. The knot in your stomach that had almost disappeared was back and it brought friends. Your shirt. His shirt. The big one that said BROOKLYN across the front, what you didn't know was your "going away gift." The one you balled up and shoved in the top corner of his closet, at the time hoping you'd never look at it again. You're amazed that it's still here, that Bucky hadn't tossed it out or tried to give it back to you when he moved in.

So you put it on. You're still not sure why but you needed to wear it. To feel it drape over your skin, enveloping you in warmth and that beautiful clean familiar scent you... loved once. It sent a shiver down your spine. The knots in your stomach were gone but now there's one in your throat. You can feel the tears seated right behind your eyes. You sit on the bed holding your face pleading with the water to stay put but it's too late. You miss him. You hate to admit it, but it's true and it always has been. You're angry and you should be, you loved him- you thought he might've loved you. Pulling the hem of the shirt up you wipe the tears off your face and fall into a pillow, trying to calm yourself out of your rage unintentionally drifting into sleep.

*****************************************************

You wake up to the sound of music in the kitchen.

...Ah, now I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her...

You sit up quickly checking your phone: 11:34am. You'd fallen asleep in Bucky's room, in his bed. A blanket had been placed over you and a short scan of the room returned a brown leather duffel bag and set of black boots that weren't present last night. He'd come back early this morning and found you here. You can feel your heart fall straight out of your ass, the void that was left being filled with pure embarrassment. Is he angry? He did tuck you in...

As slowly and quietly as possible you make your way towards the door, poking your head out just enough to assess the situation. You can see his back in the kitchen, he's hovering over the sink. You notice the couch, the spare blanket and pillow from the bathroom closet folded neatly on one of the arm rests, he had to sleep there. The void gets deeper. You pull the door open just enough to slip out of and there's a quiet creak. Steve never did fix that, and you just figured out why.

Bucky didn't turn around but definitely noticed. He steps to the side, now in front of the stove and you here something crack and sizzle. You're not sure what to do here. You can try to apologies and explain but there's no un-embarrassing way out of this one. You fold your arms over your stomach trying to hold all your very delicate pieces together while you attempt to speak up. Finally reaching the bar and fully prepared to say good morning when he quickly sets a hot bowl down in front of you. White rice and a fried egg- runny yolk. You'd make it for breakfast when you'd get up early or couldn't sleep, a friend from school put you on to it. Looks like he's been studying you too. You make eye contact but, just briefly. From what little of the expression you get on his face nothing indicates that he's mad. But he hasn't said anything to the contrary either.

How was your trip?  Dangerous I bet-sorry you couldn't come home and sleep in your own goddamn bed! Oh?! AND you made me breakfast!

You feel like a crazy person.

"Comfy last night?"

He's pouring himself some coffee, not yet turning your way. There's no hostility in his voice.

You chuckle nervously.

"Yeah.. sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it."

He sets a small glass of juice down in front of you. Heavy eye contact this time, but his expression is soft. He didn't ask for an explanation and you really didn't want to give him one. But you still feel guilt looming over you. You take the glass in both hands and nurse it.

He nods at you with a squint, taking a big sip of coffee.

"If I knew that was yours I would've given it back."

The shirt. You forgot you actually put it on. You hold your breath stroking the fabric gently. Contemplating your next words.

"It's not- well, not really."

He raises an eyebrow.

"It was a gift, so I guess it does belong to me..."

Glancing back down at it you can see him realize it says "Brooklyn." His expression changes to a knowing one and it reads like regret but he quickly tries to box it back up for you. This is a new move for him.

There's a much longer pause in conversation than either of you would like before he shifts his weight awkwardly.

"Sorry."

You push glass, now empty back across the bar towards him.

"Don't worry about it-"

You swivel in your seat quickly, taking your bowl and getting up to leave. He steps out from the kitchen after you.

"Thanks for breakfast."

The tears had been welling up and started to pour over as you left. You're still in no state to pretend to be a functioning person right now. Trying to save him from your ugly cry face by escaping but he grabs your shoulder gently suggesting you backwards.

You cover your mouth to hush a sob. You can see your chest start heave but there's nothing you can do to stop yourself. He grabs the bowl setting it down carefully, then you feel a warm metal sensation squeezing the back of your neck.

"You don't have to be over it."

He's been back a couple hours and already knows you're still a mess. You scoff, laughing at yourself really.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing."

He whispered back quickly, exasperated, but tender.

You sniffle; pathetic.

"That's not how it feels."

"He fucked up. He just doesn't know it."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders pulling you into his embrace.

It's nice to feel another person. A real solid human being; you can't remember the last time you hugged someone like this. You turn in his arms to face him. He looks tired. Not just 'had-to-sleep-on-an-old-couch' tired. Emotionally repressed. Maybe he has actually wanted to talk to you. He pulls you into him, it's just a hug  but it almost hurt how sweet this was.

Then a thought came to you, not really sure how, you can't handle more rejection right now; but you kissed him anyway, hard. Like him being gone almost killed you- because it did. He pulls away from you, just a little, reading your face his own expressionless. You search his eyes for any kind of hint as to what's going on inside his mind. You're not ready to admit this was a mistake yet. There's no real way to know how long you stood there like that. You only dare to move after you hear the song change in the background.

Words... thought they just fade away

but hurt... gave them a place to stay

"Do something."

You were sure it was just in your head but it creaked out past your lips in less than a whisper, pleading with him.

He covered your mouth with his, smoothing both hands down your neck to your shoulders gripping them gently, intently. You cling to his waist almost afraid to explore anywhere else, then slowly drag nails along his back. He pulls you back into him, you want to fuse with the warmth radiating off of his body, he bends and you collide onto the floor with a muffled thud. He cradles your head quickly so you don't get hurt but you wouldn't care at this point.

The way you fit into each other is unnerving, like your bodies weren't meant for anybody else. You both scramble to undress him in between breathy wet kisses and he's... magnificent. He pulls off his shirt and you swiftly run fingers from his neck down each arm. The metal one is warm, this surprises you for some reason. You watch as each "muscle" dances at your touch and you catch a small glimpse of something on his face that resembles insecurity... or fear. He shelves it quickly in response to you bucking your hips up to dismiss your underwear.

He buries his face in your neck, warm breaths ghosting your skin. Hooking his hands behind your knees he hoists your legs up around his waist. He bites down gently and you gasp. It's too much. He's everywhere, all at once. The last person to touch you event remotely close to this was-

"...Steve."

It just came out, you almost didn't notice it. Bucky stops, pulling back and away. He scans you, a pitiful, panting mess on the floor. The most vulnerable you've probably ever been and definitely in front of him. He shakes his head slowly once, chest heaving.

"No."

Knots line your stomach once again. He grabs your wrist to hold your arms in place up above your head and presses his forehead against yours.

"Look at me."

You hold eye contact there for a solid minute, you're sure of it. He leans forward delicately dragging teeth against your ear.

"You're gonna keep saying it until you can't forget."

He drops his hips and lines up with your entrance. You feel a thick wash of euphoria from the pressure, throwing your head back as much as possible given the floor. You roll your hips along to his, cradling each other perfectly.

His eyes didn't leave your face until you both feel your legs begin to tremble.

"Oh Bucky."

The only words you can remember.

You feel every stroke hasten and all his muscles tighten each time his name falls from your lips. He pulls your shirt up to your neck looking to spatter kisses and bite marks across your torso. You futilely dig one set of nails into the floor and the other in his shoulder as he hungrily growls into your stomach, cursing, longing for mercy.

"Fuck."

You pull him back up to your face demanding his tongue. You hear the floorboard creek from the pressure of a metal hand, the flesh one surely bruising your hip by now. There's a deep enduring moan from the back of his throat as he finds his release inside you. You gasp at the sensation and you both pant into each other, nothing but a mess on the floor now.

He presses a long, firm kiss into the bridge of your nose then falls gently on his back beside you. You roll your head up to look at his face, whatever it is he's feeling isn't immediately obvious as he stares up at the ceiling. You shift onto your side placing a light, cautious hand on his chest and he glances over at you, reaching to squeeze your thigh reassuringly.

The sky is Navy Blue soon to be baby blue and baby you got nothing but time...

He looks over your face in a deep sigh before retiring his gaze to the ceiling.

"I don't know him... The guy that left you like that."

You watch intently has his jaw clenched, he's never been able to hide that bit very well.

"I don't know what kind of..."

He trails off, clearly upset.

You sigh deeply.

"I was gonna die that night."

He rolls his head back to look at you.

"The day I met him? I had pretty much made up my mind."

You start to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Almost reminiscent.

"But he found me in the staircase..."

You hate how subtly he did some things. If you weren't lying next to him. There's no way you'd ever be able to tell his breathing had changed.

"Essentially-"

You pick your head up, chin on his sternum.

"He saved my life."

You state matter of factually. You watch his body relax in a short, bitter way.

He rolls his head over just enough to look you in the eyes. You kiss his chest once tenderly before moving to stand up. You extend a hand down for him to grab.

"That isn't good for your back."

"You really think I didn't know?" Part1