#nick buck mist buck

[elitehoe]

The Elite vs HOB fallout will be devastating and the most important part of the devastation will be defined by who is misted.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Hiiiii i hope it’s okay that I’m submitting this not on a weekend but as always I’m haunted by your fics and want as much as you’re willing to give!

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸(ik this is a lot of emojis but i mean can you blame me i think this story has forever changed me - and I’m especially loving all the reunions!)

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊(buck please learn that you’re lovable and that eddie loves you for you!)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨(established relationship! Don’t mind if i do! And i love how in any universe eddie can’t not keep the will a secret for a while)

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮(CRANBERRY MY BABY COME BACK TO ME)

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️(PROPOSAL!!!! CAL YOU’RE TOO GOOD TO ME!!!)

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮(this visiting each others childhoods thing is so intriguing! Can’t wait to see what scenes you’ve thought up!)

You’re my favoritest person and i already love everything you write in response to this! Thanks for sharing!!

TOTALLY OKAY THANK YOU!!!

81 for 🩸(AHH THANK YO!!!!):

---

Eddie is quiet when they leave May’s apartment. Buck understands why. It’s a lot to process. The knowledge, fresh from the CDC, that he might just collapse at any moment and wake up healed. How there is a path forward to getting his life back, but not one he can choose to take or even line himself up for. It’s cruel, really. Buck feels the cruelty of it, so he can’t imagine how much worse that is for Eddie.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks during the drive. 

“Honestly? Not really.” Eddie sighs. “Like Athena said, until there are legal protections put in place, nothing changes.”

Buck nods. “Sorry.”

I’m sorry, but I will keep you safe. I will protect you. Keep letting me. 

“Is there anything I can do?” Buck asks. “I know today has been heavy.”

Eddie thinks on it for a second.

“Can we not go home yet?”

“S-sure,” Buck says, surprised. “Is there something you want to do?”

Eddie shrugs. “Not really. I just… I just don’t want to go back to the house just yet. I want to… Can you and I just stay out longer?”

“Of course,” Buck says. “Yeah, let’s… Let’s just drive.”

“Thank you,” Eddie mutters. 

Buck takes an exit that sends them southwest. In the opposite direction of home. Towards the water. Eddie starts fiddling with Buck’s CarPlay, finding a playlist of Buck’s that they used to listen to on drives. He’s the only person in the world, besides Chris, who he lets touch his music settings when driving. He keeps the volume low, then slumps back in the passenger seat, eyes drifting shut. 

An entire Fleetwood Mac song plays. Buck struggles to focus on the road, eyes keep flicking to Eddie’s still voice, ears filled music. 

So I close my eyes softly, till I become that part of the wind…

Buck can’t help the shaky exhale that escapes his lungs. It’s easy to forget that this is real. Really Eddie, in front of him. That he’s not going to disappear into mist. Buck has to keep himself from tracing the lines of Eddie’s profile with his eyes, so they don’t accidentally swerve into oncoming traffic.

Eddie doesn’t say anything again until Stevie Nicks is done signing about tracking ghosts through the fog. 

“I can’t bank on this Spontaneous Elimination shit,” is what he says as the playlist switches to something a bit more modern. 

“No.” Buck answers, because it’s the truth. He shouldn’t sugar coat it. 

But…

“But they’re looking for other cures,” he reminds Eddie. 

Eddie nods, still not opening his eyes. 

“Accessing that would probably mean coming forward about my, uh, condition. Medical records. Paper trails.”

“There is that,” Buck agrees. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “For all of it, Buck.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Eddie.” Buck shakes his head. He feels frustrated. This isn’t Eddie’s fault. “I told you already I know what happened wasn’t your-”

“Not for that,” Eddie interrupts. He pauses, finally opening his eyes. “Well, yeah. Okay, that’s part of it. But more for what’s still left.”

“What do you mean?” Buck asks. 

“This whole mess. It just keeps going. I can never get my life back, I don’t think.” He explains. “And so I need you, I’m dependent on you, and I’m sorry that that means your life is… Less, I guess, than it might have been.”

Buck sighs. Fuck.

---

30 for 🌊 (ALMOST DONE THIS ONE! And he is learning it!):

---

“That makes sense,” Buck says“How can we make it quieter?” Buck asks, the thrum of his voice tickling the back of Eddie’s neck. 

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits. “I think now that things are calm, I’m mentally catching up.”

. “It’s been a crazy few days.”

“Sure has,” Eddie agrees. “And I guess… Okay, don’t take this the wrong way.”

He really doesn’t need any more misinterpretations coming out of this bed. 

“O-okay,” Buck answers nervously. 

“I think it’s actually sinking in that you’re here and I didn’t mess things up irreparably.” Eddie admits. 

“Oh,” Buck whispers. He squeezes Eddie a little tighter. “Well very few things can’t be fixed, right?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie replies. “That’s not always been my experience.”

“Mine either, but…” Buck trails off, thinking. He presses a kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck. “Maybe it’s different for us.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks. “Why is that?”

“I’m not saying we don’t have to work on stuff, or whatever. Our own crap.” Buck clarifies.

---

42 for 🚨 (yesss Eddie's gonna sit on it for a minute):

---

Eddie holds his breath. 

“Okay,” Chris says after a moment. “That’s good.”

Eddie hears Buck exhale.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

“So you just decided?” Chris asks, brows furrowed. “Like you decided Buck is your boyfriend now?”

Eddie isn’t sure what’s confusing him.

“Uh, yes,” he answers. What’s he gonna say? He almost died and then they had sex? Definitely not.

Christopher’s eyes widen in alarm. “Can that happen? Somebody just says you are their boyfriend now?”

“Oh, buddy. No,” Buck jumps to assuage these fears. “We talked about it. It’s what we both want.”

“Oh,” Chris says. “Phew. Because Linnea Templeton keeps following me around at recess and I don’t want her to decide I’m her boyfriend.”

Eddie tries not to laugh. “Okay, well she can’t do that, Chris. If she’s bugging you, let’s talk to your teacher, alright?”

“Alright,” Chris agrees. 

“Do you have any questions for Buck and I?” Eddie asks. 

Christopher considers. 

“I don’t know,” he asks. “Are you going to get married?”

Buck coughs a little. 

“Oh, well…” Eddie looks at Buck, cheeks heated. “I think it’s too soon to know.”

“Why?” Chris asks. 

“Those things usually take some time,” Buck replies. 

“Like how much?” Chris presses. 

What the fuck, kid?

---

21 for 🦮 (she's almost ready!):

---

Maybe there’s a difference between mourning what he lost and denying himself a future he likes. He’s not sure he trusts it. But maybe. 

“Thanks for hanging out with me today, Chris,” Buck says. “Cranberry and I are pretty lucky to have you as a friend.”

Chris grins. “You’re welcome!” 

“Your dad is going to be jealous that he had to spend all day getting soaked out there helping people while we had fun,” Buck says. 

Chris laughs. “He should play hooky from work sometimes.”

“Pfft, yeah. Who wants to go to work?” 

🦮🦮🦮

It’s close to midnight by the time Eddie gets home. Chris is sleeping in bed with the door propped open. Cranberry is curled up at the foot of his bed. Buck had meant to keep her out with him so she doesn’t wake him if she is alerted by Eddie walking through the door. But Chris had weaponized some pretty intense begging eyes when he asked to sleep with her. What was Buck supposed to do?

Eddie looks exhausted and smells like sea water and sweat.  “Thank you so much,” he says to Buck. “I seriously owe you.”

---

63 for ⚡️ (HELL YEAH A PROPOSAL):

SPOILERS AHEAD

---

“He will say yes,” Maddie replies easily. “Which I think you must already know. Otherwise the tone of this conversation would be very different.”

Buck smirks. “I think he’ll say yes.”

“Do you have a ring yet?” Maddie asks. “Are you doing a ring?” 

“No,” Buck says. “I mean, yes, I want to do a ring. No, I don’t have one.”

“Do you want help shopping?” Maddie offers. 

“Yeah, I would. I’d love that, actually.” Buck grins. “But there’s someone else I think I need to bring, too. Just gotta tell him first.”

☆☆☆

Eddie goes to the person he always goes to when he’s not sure what’s in his head, after Buck. Because he can’t exactly take this to Buck. He goes to Bobby. 

He won’t lie. He does have some reservations about bringing this to Bobby. Not that he thinks Bobby would steer him wrong. More like, it feels a bit less like going to a confidant for advice, and something closer to asking a father for blessing to marry his child. And, honestly? Maybe there is some of that here. But mostly, Eddie sincerely wants Bobby’s take. 

It is surprisingly easy for Eddie to go to Bobby without arousing curiosity in Buck. Like, Buck is almost eager for him to be out of the house?

“I need to help Pepa with some yard work,” Eddie announces, like a liar, the night before a day off. “I was thinking of going tomorrow afternoon. Are you good with Chris for the day?”

He is ready to have to say, no, Buck, I don’t need your help. I can go alone. Because it is so very like Buck to offer to help. 

Except, this time, he does no such thing.

“Sure! Have fun,” Buck grins. “Say hi to Pepa for me. Chris and I will probably go out for dinner, so stay as long as you need.”

Well, okay. 

So Eddie leaves the next day to Buck thrusting an extra-large reusable water bottle in his hand and practically ushering him out the door. He knows Chris and Buck have fun one-on-one without him, but damn. Trying not to feel at all sore about it, he drives to Bobby’s. 

Eddie did not ask Bobby if he could drop in on him and trouble him with his nuptial questions. Bobby mentioned he had no plans for their four-off, and Eddie just kind of takes advantage of that intel. 

“Eddie,” Bobby greets him with a smile. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I was kind of hoping to talk about something sort of serious,” Eddie says. “If now is an okay time?”

“Sure,” Bobby frowns. “No transfer papers I hope?”

That fun old inside joke. Jesus. Though does he have to transfer if they get married? Is it, like, an extra conflict of interest?

“Ha, no.” Eddie chuckles awkwardly. “Definitely not.”

“Good. Then come on in,” Bobby lets him through the door. “What’s going on?”

---

27 for 🔮 (thank you so much!):

---

Has Bobby been sent here to change Maddie’s future? That seems insane and random, but who is he to say? Who is he to question it? He has to, at the very least, try. 

So Bobby walks up to the edge of the driveway, in plain view of the van, and calls out to her. 

“Excuse me!” He tries. “Maddie Buckley?”

Nothing. Maddie doesn’t turn. Buck doesn’t turn. In the van, Doug doesn’t turn. 

Interesting. 

“Maddie!” He shouts, a little louder. 

Nada. 

Bobby walks over and knocks on the side of the van. He can feel and hear it, but no one seems to notice. He picks up a stone on the ground and tosses it up the driveway, landing a foot away from the porch. No one sees. 

Okay. Okay, so Bobby is just a passenger here. He’s just meant to watch. 

In the van, Doug rolls his eyes and gives a little honk. The absolute ass. Maddie tenses on the porch.

“I have to go, Evan,” she says.

[silvershadow989]

Right right okay so, I had a dream about HoB vs The Elite feud and --

(In this dream Revolution was middle of March instead, March 18th to be exact.)

Rampage happens on the 24th Feb, and the Bucks have their match against Aussie Open. Middle of the match, lights go out, come back on after a few seconds - HoB are on the outside. Aussie open use this too their advantage and pin Matt. They then skedaddle out as Kenny comes down the ramp, followed by Don and Nak.

Once the Elite are in the ring HoB climb in, almost circling them and leaving them back to back pretty much. Malakai talks about how there's a parasite in AEW, on that's been around outstayed it's welcome. The parasite is the elite, and HoB are the ones who will save AEW. They all stop circling. Julia's in front of Matt. The crowd go silent as Malakai get's in Kenny's face.

Nick dart's infront of Matt and get's the mist to the face. Matt catches him as he falls back yelling and Kenny is torn between getting back in Malakai's face and checking on Nick.

HoB leave, their work temporarily done. The Elite follow after, Matt and Kenny supporting Nick.

BTE is interesting that Monday, Nick's weirdly quiet, stays in the background, never looks the camera head on. Matt, Kenny and Brandon have a discussion about how he's doing other weird things too - watching Matt sleep, snapping at Kenny ect. Brandon forgets to turn the camera off.

March 1st Dynamite. There's a backstage segment that have Matt and Kenny raging over their gear going missing and locker room being trashed. Matt asks Nick (who was in the room when it happened) what happened and Nick just shrugs. He's got light purple all around his eyes and across his nose. It looks like he's been punched in the face.

They have a match that Rampage - against the local jobbers. Matt get's the Meltzer Driver set up. Nick doesn't take it though. He just sits on the top rope, looking up the ramp.

Malakai's stood there watching. Kenny has to use the One Winged Angel to win.

Nick's not in the next BTE. Matt's noticably stressed the entire video but pretends nothing's wrong.

He keeps pretending until March 8th Dynamite, when he's attacked in the ring by his little brother. HoB are also there, targeting Kenny and restraining Brandon.

But Nick's focused on Matt. The purple has darkened too black now, and his eyes seem hollowed out. Like he's a puppet. A puppet that's trying to choke him.

Again, Hanger has to save them. HoB backs off, but Nick's still in the ring. Staring Adam down. Malakai whistles and Nick backs off.

The House Of Black have Nick now.

Adam leaves the ring afterwards, he's still in shock, and looking at Kenny makes his head hurt. Matt and Kenny are left to limp out by themselves.

Nick has a match against a jobber that Rampage. He decimates them. Matt is watching on a moniter, eyes suspiciously teary.

(This is where my memory gets patchy and I can't remember the details but-)

Nick has three more singles matches before Revolution. Matt and Kenny have a tag match or two. The Nick situation is a looking shadow.

The Revolution match is set to be Matt vs Nick. If Matt wins, HoB will release Nick. If Nick wins, well, he'll belong to the House. Like Julia.

It's a tense match. 40 minutes. Both are bleeding by the end but it's Matt's wrist raised. Kenny joins him in the ring to celebrate, giving the still lying Nick a wide berth when HoB attack them. Properly.

Starts a feud that lasts 'till Double Or Nothing. Adam joins the Elite *temporarily* to boost their numbers. HoB almost mist him too. They miss.

Malakai spends a lot of time taunting Kenny about how horrible he used to be, how he was so bad that a certain former tag partner couldn't stand him.

Matt keeps finding pictures of Nick - face covered in blood, eyes glassy and dazed from the concussion Matt gave him when he dropped him on the ramp - everywhere, it's tearing him apart.

Nick clams up, won't talk to anyone, insists he doesn't remember anything. The far-away gaze and the way he flinches when someone says his name suggest otherwise.

Meanwhile the BCC spent the time between March and May dragging Bryan back into the fold and making sure he stays put. They have their eyes set on the trio's champions as well, seeing it as easy pickings due to Matt, Nick and Kenny being so distracted.

They have their match, just before Double Or Nothing. HoB interfere, leading to a disqualification for BCC. Mox is mad about it. Tony gives him BCC vs HoB vs The Elite for DoN.

The match is carnage.

Then I woke up so I don't know who won. Feel free to guess though!!

[sequentialprophet]

Okay, go with me here. Nick gets misted during the Elite HoB battle. Matt chooses Nick because ofc he does. Kenny takes that exactly as well as second choice Kenny always has. We get super heel HoB Bucks and Kenny with no friends and left vulnerable. BUT THEN. Ibushi ❤ Then we get HoB heel Bucks vs babyface Golden Lovers feud!

[nobody-does-it-better]

Nicky stood at the top of the valley ridge. Her eyes were dark and circled and the brilliant blue was wild and wicked as they honed onto the small nestled hamlet between the tall oaks at the bottom of the slope. She looked out over the high rolling hills like a brutal king surveying his kingdom, exhaling the evening mist into the faintly purple sky, orange clouds streaking out of the sunset like the last rays of day. A soft and cold wind had picked up which blew through the forest and rustled every tree, the gnarled branches covering her like they were a protector. A meth pipe sat between her teeth and she removed it and spat at the ground.

The lights in the houses turned off and two men exited with their wives, she watched their tiny far away bodies move like ants into the rusted piece of shit cars and then drive down their worthless dirt road, kicking up dust that followed them until they disappeared.

Nicky grasped the heavy gas tank and began to trek down the mountain. The leaves and grass crunched under her dirty all stars and she used each tree as leverage. At the bottom she looked around at the property, there lied what things that should have been hers in another life in another time, in the homes lived things she would chase a good part of her life fervently perhaps unknowingly trying to posess.

She broke out into a cold sweat that she felt sear through her entire body, almost as if radiated through her clothes. She threw swaths of gasoline on everything she could find, anything in her vicinity. The tractor, the shed, the shovels, the garden, the bushes, everything ruined and layered in stinking chemical.

There was a dog, a pitbull going buck wild in the house. It was shaking the door bashing against the windows sacrificing itself to come out and either tear her to shreds or be killed in doing so. She taunted it, splashing the foul liquid over the window.

"What the hell!?" A voice called out. Her brother leaned out of the back door and once he saw who it was he almost fell over. "Nicky!"

She stood still, staring at him with a madness that he knew was unstable, that he couldn't protect himself from if he tried. Questions and emotions fluttered through his aged face like a hamster turning its wheel.

"What are you doing here? Is that gasoline?"

Nicky replied by spreading her dry lips and showing her brown teeth. She held up a lighter and shook it at him, taunting him.

"Come near me and I'll blow you to hell."

"Nicky..." He looked around at the soaked yard, at the out of breath and shaking shambling visage that was his sister long ago. Where there once was a gentleness and innocence in those craggy features, it now only existed on the edges of his memory as they had been washed out. "What happened to you?"

She spat at his feet "Leave or burn."

"I know I was bad to you but I'm not dad..."

"Might as well be."

"What do you want?"

"Your wifes ass."

"Nick..."

"Bring her out and let me fuck her, hog tie her and I'll fuck her like the pig she is."

"Jesus Christ Nicky stop it!"

"Wheres dad."

Her brother's chest was heaving, his hands were shaking.

"Your heads so far up his old ass Eric, where is he."

"If I tell you where he is and then you do something to him I aint going to jail. What is goin on with you?"

"What's goin on with me? I'm livin the life, Eric. I'm livin the life dad was always afraid of me livin. I've done everything that would break his heart and bury him ten times over. I want him to know, I want him to see me. I wanna tell him myself."

"Forget about it all, please! Do you need money? Do you have a home? Let me help you, Nick. You have every right to be upset and I'm sorry about how we grew up but I'll help you if you let me."

"Shoulda been better when it mattered." She sucked the air in sharply through her teeth sounding like a snake. "So it goes." She took her gasoline tank and raised it high above her and poured the rest of it over her head. It ran down her face and soaked her clothes and when it poured into her half open mouth she spit it out in a foul cascading waterfall that drenched earth and man and the small bike that lied in the grass between them. Gasoline and drool oozed down her chin and dripped thickly onto her shirt.

Eric took off towards her and with a manic and unrestrained glee she lit her match again and tossed it towards the ground. He crashed into her and together they fell beside a small blaze quickly rising.

[daraemory]

RE your Bucks tags:

I was hoping during their House of Black feud that one of them would get misted and slowly go evil, and there would be a fight for Nick Jackson’s soul, or whatever. It would’ve been so cool! And that gives it an end date, too, so they wouldn’t have to feel like it has to drag on forever or that there would be unresolved feelings.

I get that they don’t want to feud, but a little short angst separation would be so interesting.

that would have been an AMAZING story for their HoB feud. when The Elite are allowed to tell their stories in the way they want, it is always top-notch and i would love to see them play with conflict between the bucks which we've never really seen. even when cody was whispering to both of them about how they should be singles wrestlers. but like, i can't even imagine what sort of circumstances they would ever turn on each other. it has always seemed like there is no possible force on this earth that could ever come between them. WHICH MAKES ME WANT TO SEE IT EVEN MORE. the levels of angst would be DELICIOUS. (ending with reconciliation of course.)

[thedivineelite]

[drunktuesdays]

the gc has this term called cheesegratering which is when you're trying to mbate with a cheesgrater, which is an upsettingly vivid but useful term for when you're in a certain mood and you JUST want to think about a blorbo having the emotionally worst day of their entire life and you cry/jerk off about it. which is a mood that strikes me oh say every 27 days or so, coincidentally.

anyway the dash was really cheesegratering today about how a possible bucks breakup would ever possibly go and i was reading along nodding and going "would never happen though :) they'd just talk about it :) they'd BOTH crumble into dry cookie without each other :) wouldn't happen :)" because i have absolutely life-threatening brainworms.

but just now in the shower, i was like, okay lea, so if you HAD to, how would you do it? you gotta break the bucks up, how do you solve the puzzle of what could possibly happen that the bucks wouldn't just retreat to closed doors, discuss at length, and return with a plan?

and then i started laughing literally hysterically because i was just like, okay it'd have to be mind control, probably. someone takes control of one of the bucks. which one is the weakest minded? definitely matt. who can do mind control in aew? well, maybe house of black. MISTED. MATT GETS MISTED. matt gets misted. MISTED. his mind? corrupted. joins house of black. wears dark cheerleader outfit like julia's. t-shirt? says MATT BLACKSON. nick, hangman and kenny have an EMOTIONAL reunion in order to rescue, retrieve and de-mist matt. when matt comes back to himself, the first thing he says is "i'm sorry, WHAT happened to my face??" he murders house of black in revenge, brings julia into the elite. now they both are cheerleaders. great breakup fic, lea. nailed it. everyone's gonna love it and carry you off the bus cheering.

i laughed literally all the way through shaving my legs.

[paversandplatters]

|| 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (1/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

Read x multiple

Chapter 1: Shortcut

“Would you please shut up for just one minute!?” She calls out behind the steering wheel, voice horse, and struggling to keep the battered SUV On the road, keeping speed and avoiding the now long forgotten vehicles left on the two lane road. Every part of her feels like it's on fire. Blood from the oozing wound on her scalp finds its way right into her eye, clouding her vision further.

“Told you we've just gotta put some distance between us and Calhoun, then we can pull over for medical attention ASAP. ” Her eyes quickly flit between the road and the rearview mirror trying to get a glimpse at George in the darkness of the back seat. The young man is leaning his head against the broken rear window as the Escalade rumbles past a cluster of figures milling about the edge of the road. A single glance tells her they're hunched over something- or rather what's left of someone. She pushes the thought from her mind and tries to assess George again. He catches her eyes in the mirror only to look away- blinking tears away and wheezing miserably, his free hand gripping the bloody remains of what was his shirt over his middle. No doubt covering the gaping wound there.

The broken window rattles, as a slip stream of wind tussles his now blood matted hair. Nick is sat next to him looking equally disheveled but still in one piece- save some scrapes and bruises.

“I-I can't breathe- I can't-” he stutters out cutoff by Nick’s sudden yelp as a wave of rotten gore sprays across the windshield. It's undeniable that the sight and smell is enough to stick with you for days but anyone that has struck a zombie with a car knows the worst part is the noise. Rather that is- the gore and rot engulfs all senses, sure, but it’s the sound that lives on in memory. It's a series of greasy crunching sounds that bring to mind the thunk of an axe through cords of rotting termite infested wood. A horrible symphony of sounds as the dead are grounded into paste beneath the moving chassis and thick wheels. A quick series of dull pops and cracks as liquefying organs and bladders are squished. Bones are turned to kindling and skulls crushed open and flattening, mercifully bringing an end to a treacherous pilgrimage. This hellish noise is the first thing that registers with her and the two men in the back seat of the battered Escalade.

Both let out another yelp of shock and revulsion, holding on to the seats with a vice like grip as the SUV bucks and fishtails across the now wet and slippery tarmac. Most of the cadavers go down like domino pieces, pulverized by 3 tons of careening Detroit metal. Some of the excess flesh and appendages stumble across the hood leaving a ghastly trail of rancid fluids on the windshield, other body parts go pinwheeling in the air arcing across the night Sky. It might have been humorous if their own situation wasn’t so dire…

She remains silent, hunched forward- her jaw set and eyes fixed on the road, her arms still wrestling with the jittering steering wheel as the massive vehicle goes into a skid. The engine revs and keens as it reacts to the loss of traction. The squeal of the huge steel belted radials adding to the din, hands yanking the wheel back the other way turning into the skid as best she can in order to avoid spinning out of control when she notices something that has gotten lodged in the gaping hole in her side window.

The disembodied head of a zombie only inches away from her left ear. It’s teeth chattering softly, somehow it got caught in the jagged maw of broken glass, gnashing its blackened incisors at her fixing it's ghostly milky gaze on her. The sight of it is so grisly and awful and yet so surreal- the creaking of the jaws snapping at her with the hollow autonomic force of a ventriloquist dummy. She lets out an involuntary chortle, one akin to a laugh but darker… she jerks her head away from the window. Registering over the space of a single instance the fact that the re-animated cranium was torn from its upper body upon impact with the SUV and now still continues to go on without it’s body, seeking living flesh… forever seeking, forever masticating swallowing and consuming, an impulse never satiated.

“Lookout!”

The scream comes from the flickering darkness of the rear seats. In all the excitement she can't identify the source. Wether it's Nick or George- the issue is moot because she mistakes the meaning of the cry and the split second during which her hand flies to the passenger seat and fishes through the contents of it rifling through Maps, candy wrappers, rope and tools- frantically searching for the 9 millimeter Glock- she assumes that the warning cry it is meant to lookout for the snapping jaws of the amputated head. She finally gets her hands on the grip of the Glock and wastes no time swinging it up with one fluid motion towards the window and squeezing off a single point blank shot into the grotesque face skewered there. The head comes apart with the blossom of pink mist, splitting like a melon and sending splatter of viscera into her hair before being launched into the wind, the vacuum left behind in the broken window throbs noisily adding to the din.

Less than 10 seconds have transpired since the initial impact but now she sees that reason that one of the men in the back gave such a warning- it's nothing to do with the reanimated head- what they were screaming about back there- thing that she was supposed to lookout for… is now looming on the opposite side of the highway coming up quick on their right closing. She feels the gravity shift as she swerves in order to avoid the mangled wreckage of a VW bug sliding across the gravel shoulder then plunges down into a steep embankment on the dark unknown wooden grove.

Pine barrows and foliage scrape and slap the windshield as the vehicle bangs and clambers on the rocky slope. The voices in the back rise into a frenzied screams

She feels the land level out and manages to keep the vehicle going long enough to find purchase in the mud- then slams down the accelerator and the Escalade lurches forward under its own power. The massive grill and gigantic tires grinding through the thickets cobbling over deadfalls, mowing down the wild undergrowth and tearing through the scrub as though it were smoke. for the seemingly endless minutes the bumpy ride threatens to encompass her spine and rupture her spleen. In the blurry image of the rear view she gets a brief glimpse of the two injured young men holding on to the back seats for fear of bouncing right out of the vehicle. The front end hits a log hard and the impact nearly cracks her teeth.

For a minute or so they swerve through a thin patch of trees. When they burst out of the brush, an explosion of dirt, leaves and particles- she sees that they've inadvertently come upon another unidentified two lane road. She slams the brakes causing the men to headbutt the seats with an audible ‘thwap.

She sits there for a second taking deep breaths, getting air back in her lungs. She looks around. The men in the back collectively groan and whine, now suddenly back into their seats, holding themselves. The engine idles noisily, a new rattling sound is introduced to the low rumble- probably bearing a knocked loose in the improvised off-road adventure.

“Okay-“ she starts softly “that's one hell of a shortcut”

The only response for the backseat is silence- the humor lost on the two young men. Above them a black opaque sky is just beginning to lighten with the purple of a pre-dawn glow in the dull light. They can just see enough detail to now realize that they've landed across an access road and the woods have given way to wetlands. To the East she can see the a canal winding through a fog, probably leading to the edge of a swamp and to the West a rust pocket sign says state road ‘505- 3 miles’ no sign of roamers in either direction.

[nicklightbearer]

Not A Warning, Babe, It’s An Order

yet another whf tickling fic! i just cant get enough of these two. this one is a lot longer and a good bit more.... sweet? cute?

in this; virgil didnt die and also nick and jack are Frens <3

“Ugh!” Nick huffed, balling up yet another failed composition and throwing it towards the trash can- at this point, while most of it at the bottom was empty bottles, it was overflowing with similar papers. Ripped, crushed, and ruined.. None of them were right. He couldn’t get down the mood he wanted, not in the slightest- and though he eyed the pills set in a neat bowl on his desk, he ended up shoving those away too and just pressing his head to his hands.

This wasn’t working. He couldn’t feel it, that groove that would inspire him to write a million words all in one night- that focus, that drive.. It eluded him.

From the open window, a cold chill. He’d left it open on purpose, of course- tonight, of all nights, he’d actually hoped that Jack would show up- but so far, nothing. Perhaps he wasn’t listening. 

Perhaps he was off indulging in his own hobby. A thought that would’ve once made Nick shudder just made him snort now, and he stood up to grab his guitar.

Maybe this time, he could interrupt the magician’s work instead.

Making his way over to the window, he gave the guitar a few plucks- out of tune, dammit- but with his keen ear for such things, he twisted the pegs just so until the guitar sang as beautifully as ever. He pushed open the door to the balcony, giving a few strums, before settling on a chair outside and kicking his feet up on the railing.

Yes, this would do nicely. 

Jack.. Wasn’t actually hunting, not tonight. He hadn’t been, as of late- sneaking off to Nick’s room to get a bit of company now and again, coupled with ‘terrorizing’ the poor man, well.. It’d been doing just fine. 

At the moment, he was actually perched on the windowsill of some random citizen- he hadn’t bothered checking who, it didn’t matter- and peering into the window to a bedroom across the way. This house was his target- a doctor lived there with his wife, and it seemed that this particular fellow had taken a vested interest in the bobby’s investigation of the ‘escape’ of Foggy Jack.

Irritating, to say the least. Those doctors gave him the heebie-jeebies. 

He’d been there for.. Oh, three hours? It was about three hours when he finally noticed something to break the monotony- hell, the doctor hadn’t even come home yet, all he’d seen was the wife folding laundry and watching the late-night run of Uncle Jack’s show- and it was.. Well, at first he thought he was hallucinating. It wasn’t the first time.

But as the song trailed off, he noted that it was different from recordings. It was as if Nick was playing his guitar right out into the open night air, something like a ballad version of When You’re Gone. 

Surely Nick wasn’t playing outside at this hour. Though he tried to ignore it- probably just some other musician practicing- it kept going.. And his curiosity got the better of him.

Sighing, he slid down from the window, dissolving into his usual mist before even touching the ground. 

If it was Nick, he’d be rather cross. At the same time, it was definitely a first for him to be doing something like this, and he wondered to what end it was.

When Nick noticed the fog rolling up the streets, converging into a larger cloud as it got closer to his house, he smiled grimly. It had worked- and he wasn’t actually sure how Jack would react to such a summons, as odd as it was. But he needed help- and of all the times Jack had offered, well, he surely wouldn’t be that put off.

He closed his eyes, now crooning the words to his song softly as he felt the fog push up towards his balcony. 

“When you’re gone… Baby, it’s a long way home.” He could feel a presence behind him now, but he didn’t bother stopping his playing. It was near the end, anyway.

“Baby, it’s a long way home.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder as he finished the tune, and lolled his head back to open his eyes and grin up at Jack. The magician was quiet- looked rather neutral, but curiosity glinted in his eyes.

“A wonderful performance as always.” “Why, thank you.” “But I must ask.. It’s nearly midnight, most of the good folk have gone to bed or out to their activities of the night. Why haven’t you?” “I’m glad you asked!” Nick beamed, swinging his legs down and standing up as he grabbed Jack’s arm and dragged him inside- not that there was much resistance. 

“I have to write a new song. And I’m having a lot of trouble!” “You sound delighted about that.” Nick huffed, setting his guitar down and turning to cross his arms with an irritated frown. Jack merely tilted his head, still not entirely sure where he came into play.

“Well! You’ve helped me before.” “Ah, so it’s like that?”

The way the word was murmured shot a shiver up his spine, and Nick held his hands out placatingly as a cruel smile spread across the magician’s face.

“No! No, it’s not, you big bully. Godsakes.” “Well, do explain.” Nick sighed, stepping over to his bed and flopping to sit on the edge- and, when Jack didn’t move, he patted the spot next to him. There was a brief hesitation before he settled down, hands resting on his lap as he watched Nick almost warily.

“I need a favor.” “A favor.” “Yes. I know you get all excited about- about making me laugh, but I hardly ever get to see you laugh. And I think it would make for a great inspiration if you’d let me have my own fun, for once.” Jack’s face reddened considerably, even if Nick could only peek at the spaces around the edges. He shifted, bringing a knee up onto the bed so that he was facing the magician and leaned forward while clasping his hands together earnestly.

“Please! It’d be a big help, really.” “I..” “And you can- you can have your fun later, once I’m done. Okay?” Jack raised an eyebrow. “No strings attached?” “Well- I mean- oh, don’t be mean. You know what I meant.” “Mmh. I suppose if it’s such a big help..” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose for a moment before nodding in agreement. Nick clapped once, already excited. “Perfect! Okay, perfect. Here, you lay down, let me get my pad.” Jack may well have just up and died, with how heavily his blush was- but he complied, laying back on the bed awkwardly before covering his face and exhaling. Nick had scampered over to his desk and ripped the last page off again, completely trashing his original ideas and bringing over the blank paper and pencil to set on his nightstand.

“.. It’s not going to be very comfortable there. Here, up you go.” As he was pulled into a more comfortable position- laying so that he was propped up on pillows instead of flat on the mattress- he was silent. Nick paused for a moment before scrambling to sit on his legs, suddenly rather aware of how awkward the situation could become if he didn’t pull this off perfectly.

“.. And the mask?” “Oh no. Not taking it off.” “Jacky…” The magician peeked through his fingers, watching how Nick’s face fell and his eyes shined. Ooh, he was getting good at those puppy eyes.

He deflated, hooking his fingers around the edges and wiggling it off carefully. The night air felt cold on his exposed skin- especially with how fiery it was from the flustered state he was in.

“There. Happy?” “Absolutely!” Nick’s smile was back, and he laced his fingers together, stretching them a bit before wiggling them a few times- Jack had to bite back a giggle of anticipation- to get warmed up. 

“Alright. Don’t cover your face again, okay? I need to see you smile!” “God.” As his palms pressed to the magician’s sides, he yelped at the immediate slam of arms that nearly locked him in place.

“Woah there, Jackaboy- hey, you’ve only gone and trapped me!” “Well- I can’t- aha!”

His fingers curled slightly, and even with his jacket to protect him, the magician had to lock his jaw to keep the tingles that spread across his torso from affecting him too much.

“Come on, you silly boy.. Lift your arms up.” “I can’t if you- if you keep- doing that!” “Doing whaaaat?” The teasing! The tone! He hated it- but as skilled fingers began kneading at his sides, he couldn’t voice any of that. He pressed his arms down a bit harder, jerking as Nick’s hands slid down to squeeze his hips experimentally.

“Gosh, you’re such a baby about it. With all your big talk about how sensitive I am, I thought you wouldn’t be half so bad..” Nick tsked, pulling back for a moment before pushing his hands underneath the jacket and clawing at his stomach. Jack nearly had a heart attack right there, hands flying up to his mouth to stifle the sudden squeak as he squirmed.

“But that’s not right at all! You’re just as ticklish as me, aren’t you? God, what a hoot.” This was it. This was his funeral. 

“Imagine if the constables caught wind. Foggy Jack, menace to society- and all you have to do to reduce him to a pile of fluff and giggles is a little tickling.” “Fuck ohohoff!” “Ooh, swears. So scary.” Nick was careful as he pulled one hand out to start undoing buttons- the jacket was soon pushed aside, and he grinned as he ducked his head down. One hand locked on each side, squeezing over and over as his face pressed against the magician’s stomach- and though he didn’t yet do much other than that, the hot breath he could feel through his shirt made Jack buck up in an attempt to throw him off.

“Hold still! Squirmy wormy, squirmy Jacky, my gosh!” “Faha- Fuhuck you-” “Oh, quit the swearing. I’m not going to stop.” His hands drifted up, nails easily drilling against ribs and finally coaxing out a howl of laughter as Jack threw his head back against the pillows. Accompanying this was an even more infuriating sound- a soft ‘oooomnomnomnom’ as he nibbled at Jack’s shirt- and the slight biting feeling only earned more laughter that had now reached a much higher pitch than he’d ever admit.

“Jeez, no wonder Virge likes this snack..” Though he heard the words, he had no time to process them- not now that Nick had deftly undone his dress shirt and buried his face against him, blowing a raspberry square in the middle of his stomach. “NooOOHOHO- AHAHA- NIHIHIHIIIIHIHICK!! NOT THE- THEEHEE-” “Oooooh, yes! That’s perfect, Jacky.” Though he had started pushing at Nick’s shoulders, the musician merely chuckled and pushed his hands up- and from how he started kneading his fingers into Jack’s underarms, the shocks it sent up his arms drained his strength almost completely.

“Tickle-tickle-tickle… Oh, this is rich. No wonder you like doing this.” “Nihihick- plehease-” “Pleeease what? You volunteered.” “Noho! I didn’t- ahAHAHA!” Another raspberry. If he’d been able to form a coherent thought, he’d be thinking about how awful that mustache of Nick’s was for such an endeavor- the way it brushed against his stomach sent shivers across his body and left him breathless from the laughter.

Nick hummed a little as he looked up, reveling in the fruits of his labor for a moment and relishing in the squeals of laughter that now poured from Jack’s smiling mouth. It really was inspiring- the way he thrashed about and laughed as though he were witness to the funniest joke on the planet.. One that Nick had…

That was it!

Nick rolled off of him abruptly, seizing the pad and pencil from where he’d landed on the floor. Jack was still giggling softly, gasping for breath as he opened his eyes and blinked- a disappearing act from Lightbearer was.. Definitely unexpected.

But he heard humming beside the bed, and after fixing his shirt, he peered over the edge to see the musician scribbling on his pad of paper, occasionally pausing to tap the eraser to get a beat before resuming.

He was only the slightest bit disappointed. As he made to sit up, though, Nick looked up- then huffed, standing once again and pushing him back down.

“Oh no, I’m not done with you yet, mister. This is a full song, not just one verse!” Shit. “Now, Nick- really, it can’t be that hard to-” “It is! Now hold still. Wait- I’ve an idea.”

He got on his knees, gesturing for a moment before finding his words.

“Roll onto your stomach. Hug a pillow if that helps.” He complied, and though many spots were now protected by the bed, he had a funny feeling he was going to hate whatever was happening- of course, this was only strengthened when Nick turned his back and settled to sit on his knees. He maneuvered in such a way that he could sit criss-cross, pulling Jack’s feet through his legs and yanking his shoes off with ease.

Oh no.

“Nick- come on, this is getting ridiculous..” “Not a peep! I don’t want any protest, I’ve got to focus!”

Nick hummed the part he was thinking of as Jack buried his face in a pillow- before, of course, using the eraser end of his pencil to poke rapidly at the magician’s feet. The steady stream of giggles he earned was muffled into a pillow- but it seemed like enough, and he started writing again for a moment before repeating his actions. Jack balled up a fist and slammed it against the bed a few times, his legs screaming that he kick but wholly unable to due to their position.

“Nihihick- come on, aren’t you done yet?” “Don’t be impatient! Hey, you ought to be flattered-” He paused, now poking between each foot with every word and relishing in the flurry of flustered snickers he earned-

“You’re~my~muse~for~this~song! Isn’t that exciting?” “Ihi- eheheh- I suppose…” “Hey, if this works, maybe we can try more often! God knows with that album I’m supposed to have coming up…”

A thrill shot up through his stomach, and Jack grasped at the pillow he was strangling to the point where he was certain it would rip. “I didn’t agreehee to ahahany such thing!!” “But you would! Or..” Nick swung around, now facing him properly and giving him a brief break-

“I can convince you~.” Jack’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest- only to have a sudden wave of giggles come out instead, as Nick slipped his hands under his jacket and shirt to flutter his nails up and down the magician’s back and sides.

“Nohoho- you’re awful! Ahahawful!” “Oh, you love me.” “I hahahate ihihihihit!” Nick laughed along with him for a moment before landing a final pinch on one side and grabbing his notes again. Jack grumbled into his pillow, taking deep breaths to try and calm down. Of all the things Nick could’ve asked him to do…

But soon, they’d both gone quiet, and the scratching of pencil to paper began to slow- more pauses, more tapping, slight grumbling. Jack risked a peek over his shoulder, noting the irritated expression that Nick had.

“.. Something wrong?” “Well.. This next part. It’s less.. I need that giddy feeling. And it’s not coming.” Jack squirmed his way back onto his back and sat up, pulling his legs out from under Nick- with the lack of protest he must be pretty focused.

“That giddy feeling?” “Yeah. Like- when you take Joy for the first time in… No, that’s not quite it.” He hummed again, tapping the pencil on paper before groaning and shaking his head.

“Smilin’ like a little child, in a candy store.. Like that. Sort of.” Jack was content to watch, the look of focus combined with aggravation endlessly fascinating- and when the expression popped to a surprised look, his eyes widened. Surely not again…

“I’ve got it! I know.” And he tossed the pad onto the nightstand again before turning to Jack- this time, he was determined. Jack winced, a smile already tugging at his lips- but he was taken aback when Nick instead raised his arms above his head. “Tickle me!” “.. What?” “Well, it would work! It has before. That giddy feeling- you’re pretty good at getting it when you want.”

A more menacing smile now found its way onto his face, though a fairly endeared one. Of course, this was much more his speed… 

Though Nick had seemed determined at first, that quickly melted into nervous giggles as Jack’s hands pushed under his shirt, nails already scratching steadily at his sides. His arms swayed, wanting to come down from where he held them but staying up.. For now.

“Well, I must say, I greatly prefer this to your horrible torture. We should’ve started here, instead.” “Ghhheheh- thahat’s not- how it works!” “Well, it should be.” He chuckled quietly, slowly making his way up Nick’s torso and almost admiring his dedication- even when his ribs were the target of light squeezes, he kept up, though he’d folded at his elbows to clasp his hands behind his head as he trembled. 

“You- ha!- fucking, you’re a buhuhuhullyheehee…” “Isn’t that what you asked for? Please, Mr. Lightbearer, do clarify. You wanted me to tickle you, so I am- what’s the problem?” “Ghhhhheheheh…” Jack paused for a moment, hands resting on his ribs, before abruptly pushing up and drilling into his underarms. Nick yelped before squealing out more laughter, arms falling back down and locking as he covered his face. Judging by how he swayed, he’d probably fall if he wasn’t careful- so Jack carefully guided him to lay down, keeping at his torment the entire time.

“Go on, uncover your face- I’ve barely even picked up the pace…”

Nick jolted, then gasped through his laughter and finally pushed at Jack’s hands.

“Thahat’s- stooohohop, I neeheed to write!” “Aww.. Do I have to?” Jack pouted, but finally let go when Nick squeezed his arms down again.

“Yehehehehes!! Jack!” “Oh, fine.” He paused. “You actually have trapped my hands, though. Ease up.” Nick took a few deep breaths, slowly releasing his arms- squeaking at a final squeeze from Jack before he was released properly. Grabbing his notepad, he shook his hands out to try and get rid of the shakiness before bringing his knees up so he could write again.

“Cover your face… Hm- hmhmmmm.. Mmh, mmhmmmmm…” Jack tilted his head, trying to peek at the writing and huffing when he was swatted away. “I’m not done! No looking.” “Are you using my words?” “No- well, sort of. You’ll see.” He kept humming a few times before shifting so that his back was to Jack.

“.. Hey, do it again. But not so fast. I’m trying to nail the chorus.” “Do what?” “What do you think, you bully?” Jack snorted, settling on tracing his nails up and down Nick’s back- enough to earn a few snickers, and keep him content as he wrote. “What an effort, for a single song.” “You have no idea.” “Mmh, I think I have some. I’ve watched you write the whole thing.” “Yeah, well.. Shhh.” More humming- and quite a few giggles later- he finally set the pad down and pushed Jack’s hands away.

“Okay. That’s the first draft.” “Draft, are you serious?” “Well, I have to make sure it’s perfect!” Nick stretched, though he kept an eye on Jack- of course, the bastard’s hands twitched towards him, but he held himself back well enough. “It’s late. The best thing for me is to sleep on it. That’s why I write so late, so that I wake up with a little inspiration left over.” “Mmh, I see.” He faceplanted on the bed, reaching up to work off his wig; it was a mess, anyways, so it didn’t matter if he just threw it on the floor for later. Jack simply sat where he was, unsure if he was now overstaying his welcome.

“.. Lay down. Dork. You’re probably just as exhausted as me. It’s fine.” Though he hesitated for a long moment, he eventually settled next to Nick- the blush was back in full, but Nick didn’t seem to care. He slung an arm over the magician’s waist, already drifting off himself. Jack sighed softly, now not holding back the urge to gently comb his fingers through Nick’s hair.

“.. Good night, Nick.” “Mmnh, nighty night. Don’t run off.” It was the last request he had- and though he had other places to be, things to do.. Jack smiled fondly at the musician that now snored next to him. He was perfectly happy to wait.

[prettyyoungtragedy]

Written in the Stars (12)

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re the type of woman who is headstrong and fiercely independent. Heiress to a fortune and one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. Until you’re forced into witness protection. Your “Protection” turns out to be 220 pounds of dreamy, sassy, delightful Bucky Barnes. Whatever could go wrong?

Warnings: Angst, violence

A/N: Of course with all the fluff in the previous chapter I had to crush you guys a little with some angst! I hope you like this chapter, it took me a while to edit this and make it perfect so if you drop me a comment or reblog I will love you!

This was generously Beta’d by my beta @suz-123 , without whom this fic wouldn’t get done!

Links are being a bitch so you can find the whole fic in my WIP masterlist in my bio!

Taglist is closed, Sorry guys!

“Wait, let me explain,” Bucky said, an urgency in his voice as you stormed away from him.

“Go away,” You snapped shrugging his hand off your shoulder as you barged into the bedroom,

“I didn’t mean anything by-”

“By what, Bucky? By the fact that I am just a job to you?!” You whirled around in anger, startling him slightly, and Bucky stepped back,

“No, that’s not, you are not- I ..Just let me explain-”

“I don’t want your fucking explanation, it means nothing to me. I am just a job, so tell me do you fuck all your protection details, or am I the unlucky exception?”

“Jesus Christ, no, I couldn’t tell Steve, it's so unprofessio-”

“Don’t you fucking dare say unprofessional!” You raised your voice an octave, anger surging through you.

“I should have never let my emotions cloud my judgment like this, I fucking knew this would happen.”

“You are a piece of fucking work, Bucky Barnes, I am just a job to you, was this part of the plan?  Reel me in with all the charm and sweetness, because that’s how you work, right?”

“You’re not being fair-”

“I am not being fair?!” You yelled this time, utterly bewildered that he was calling you unfair at that moment, “Me? Are you listening to yourself?!”

“I am sorry!” He exclaimed running his fingers frustratedly through his hair as he was unable to get his point across. He fucked up.

“I don’t want your apologies.”

“You have to understand how this affects things, I can’t protect you if I am in lo-”

“Don't you dare fucking finish that sentence,” You snarled at him and Bucky stopped he looked at you. His expression pained and panicked, you can see the emotions running wild across him but you are too angry to care.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, it means nothing to me.”

“I never meant for this to happen, or for you to hear that,”

The moment he says those words your anger takes over, and, before you realized what you were doing, you raised your fist and smashed it across his jaw. Neither of you expected it, Bucky certainly didn’t. He stumbled back, startled, his lip split, but it was you that took more of the force of his strong jaw.

Your knuckles cracked, and the skin split, red blood immediately dripping out of the wound. You swore violently and backed away from him clutching your hand to your chest in pain. Bucky held his jaw, you see the blood dribble down his chin from his lip, and his wide eyes stared at you.

He looked shocked at the force you’d hit him with.

“FRIDAY?” You called out through gritted teeth, your vision swimming a little from the pain radiating from your wrist. 

“Yes?” She immediately replied,

“Tell Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark I am leaving with them.”

“Right away.”

Bucky moved towards you but the look you gave him halted him in place. His eyes moved to your hand, which was now bleeding, knuckles oozing blood and bruising already forming on the skin, and you knew you had broken at least one or two bones in your hand from punching him.

“Your hand,” Bucky said softly, “Let me see your hand,”

“No, fuck off, Bucky, don’t touch me.” You snarled at him,

Before he could respond, Tony and Steve appeared behind him. Concerned looks on their faces as they looked between the two of you. Clearly, they had heard the two of you arguing, Steve’s eyes go from Bucky’s bleeding lip and your bloodied hand and his eyes widened.

“What the hell happened?” He exclaimed rushing to your side while Tony moved to Bucky’s.

“Nothing, I want to go back to the city.” You said plainly, you let Steve touch your hand grimacing in pain when he touched it and turned it around to examine the damage.

Steve exchanged a glance with Tony, who just sighed and shook his head,

“I’ll pack up your things, Tony go fix her hand up so we can get her to a hospital to x-ray that.” Steve said calmly, “Bucky, go wash the blood off your face, and then come with me.”

“Wait, I’m so-” Bucky tried to talk to you, but Steve cuts him off by stepping in front of him, blocking you from his view as Tony helped you walk out the room as you clutched your hand.

“Stop Bucky, just...stop.” Steve sighed.

~~~

The ground was covered in snow, grey clouds blanketed the sky and mist hung low over of the city. Winter had clearly come to New York City, and it was merciless, with the temperature dropping below zero.

You were home, finally. Your home, the beautiful Upper East Side penthouse that you owned. It was still protected like a goddamn fortress, but you were elated to be allowed back here. It had been four days since you’d left Bucky’s lake house and, as happy as you were to be back home in New York, it felt like something was missing.

Steve had arranged for Arcas and Achilles to be your detail again, and you welcomed them back with annoying comments and tedious complaining, but the two men took it in their stride with polite smiles and soft chuckles.

But neither of them were Bucky, they didn’t argue with you, or shake their heads at your lame jokes and when you wanted to go out, they took you out, with no arguing. They watched you at all times, but from a distance and sometimes you even forgot they were there, they were so quiet.

You missed Bucky Barnes, bodyguard or not.

“Arcas?” You said looking up from your pile of work that was left at your home office for you,

“Yes Ma’am?” He replied instantly, standing a little taller.

“I’d like to go to the lab today at some point, there’s probably a backlog of work there, and I have a board meeting.”

“Yes Ma’am, any specific time?”

“Let’s say when the snow stops falling?” You gestured to the windows covered in frost and to the now falling flurries floating through the air.

“Of course,” he gave you a curt nod, before he resumed his quiet stance near the window.

You sighed, and tried to go back to your work but you couldn’t stop thinking about the time spent with Bucky at the lake house. Your mind wandering through the memories of his kisses, and touches, and the words he’d said to you.

“I want you, all of you,”

Scrubbing your face annoyedly, to rid yourself of the memory of his lips on your body, you sighed but it sounded more like a moan, and you slammed your head with the palm of your left hand.

God why did he have to make you feel so many things, your heart felt like it went through a blender. You hated how much you missed him, and how he’d become such an integral part of your being. You wanted nothing more than to see him and speak to him again but you knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Especially after you practically punched his lights out the last time you saw him.

You looked at your right hand which was now in a black cast after you’d broken two knuckles and cracked two bones in your hand punching Bucky, and you sighed again. This was proving harder than you’d thought it would be, you wanted to see him, you wanted him to call you, to talk to you, to say something, anything, but it had been four days and nothing.

Fucking Bucky Barnes, You always knew he was going to ruin you.

~~~

“Good Morning, Sergeant Barnes,” Steve’s chipper secretary greeted him as he stalked off the elevator.

He doesn’t acknowledge her, he brushed past her with a thunderous expression on his face. He isn’t in the mood for anyone or anything today, he’d woken up in the worst mood, and all he wanted to do was punch something, or see you.

To make it worse, Fury wanted to see him. He knew what this meant, he was about to walk into a meeting where Steve and Fury were going to  knock his lights out for getting emotionally involved with an assignment.

He was fired, so fucking fired.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to Steve’s office and walked in. He finds Steve there, alone, which surprises him. Nick Fury is never late.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted him waving him in and motioning he was on the phone. Bucky walked in and dropped down onto the nearby couch, he sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the smooth leather of the expensive couch.

He is fucking tired, he hadn’t slept properly since the fight he’d had with you and it was eating him up inside that you weren’t around him. Steve had cautioned him not to press the issue with you, he already had to explain the bruised face and busted lip to Natasha who threw multiple punches at him as well, and now, with Fury coming, in the last thing they needed was everyone finding out what happened. 

Bucky told Steve everything, he told him from the moment he realized he developed feelings for you, he told him how much it scared him, the idea of losing you, or being unable to protect you, he told him how much he wanted to fuck you in that red dress when he saw you, most of all he told Steve how truly deeply head over heels he was for you and that stopped Steve from punching Bucky.

He’d never heard him say he was in love, he’d said he loved women before, like Natasha, and some girl name Jane he met a while ago, or the Hydra scientist he apparently loved before they wiped him, but he never said in love.

In all the decades of knowing this man, Steve Rogers had never heard him say he was in love with a woman and that, that was the reason he knew he had to help Bucky.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said rising to his feet and coming over to where Bucky half lay on the couch,

“It’s fine, where’s Fury?” he asked.

“He’s not coming, issues in DC he had to handle. Apparently, Carol is paying him a visit and she’s not happy, some intergalactic shit.”

“Always fun when she visits,”

“Hmmm…”

“So...why am I here then?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something that has been bothering me,” Steve said slowly,

“Steve, if this is about her and I, I am leaving-”

“No, no, just wait a minute let me talk, you goddamn hothead!”

Bucky grumbled under his breath, cursing Steve for being a pain in his ass, but remained quiet, pointedly waiting for Steve to continue.

Steve placed a file in Bucky’s lap, and pointed to it before talking.

“This is everything we have on Jasper Sitwell, and I mean everything. Tony scoured every inch of the globe for information on this man. Where he was born, who his parents were, everything. And, while there is proof he was Hydra, this man knew nothing about explosives. We found nothing in his apartment to even indicate that he made the bomb,”

“So what are you saying?” Bucky frowned, flipping through the file.

“Buck, you-we- missed something…”

“Not possible, Steve we covered every person in her life. We have ran background, facial recognition, biometric scans, we have done everything we know to ensure that Jasper was our guy.”

“There’s another agent in her life, and I think Jasper Sitwell wasn’t the only one, the attack on the car? Jasper couldn’t have been at two places at once he was in Boston at the time, the man had no weapons training,”

“He gave the location to someone who could have?”

“Exactly, so who's our shooter?”

Bucky froze, his entire body felt like someone had thrown ice water over him as his mind ran through every second from the moment he met you up till the day he took you to the lake house.

“Bucky? You okay?” Steve asked concern lacing his tone,

“How? How could we have missed this. Of course, there were two of them, how did I not see this before. It’s been so glaringly obvious!”

“What is it?” Steve frowned,

“The bullets used by the sniper, what were they?”

Steve paused for a moment as he tried to remember, “Soviet slugs, no rifling.”

“And who was the one person you knew who used those bullets in all of history?”

Steve’s eyes met Bucky’s, and he froze.

“The Winter Soldier,” Steve said quietly, the evidence suddenly glaringly obvious as to why Bucky had missed this kind of lead.

~~~

It had been a week since you returned home, and your life was slowly becoming normal again. Arcas escorted you to work, Steve checked up on you everyday, Sam brought you home. Achilles stayed over and switched shifts with Arcas in the morning.

It was a daily routine, seeing these four men in your life, but not one day did you see the one man you actually wanted to. Every day, when that knock on your apartment door came, your heart would jump in your chest, and you secretly hoped Bucky Barnes would be standing there, and, every day, you were disappointed.

Today was no different, you got dressed and ate breakfast the chef had made you just as you heard the front door bell ring. You quickly gathered up your handbag and the sleek phone Bucky had given you almost a year ago and walked to the door.

When you opened it, Arcas stood there in his crisp black suit and smiled at you.

“Morning, Ma’am.” He said, stepping aside as you walked out,

“Hi, Arcas,” You said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Where to this morning?” He asked, he walked two feet in front of you, almost robotically.

“I have a meeting downtown, think you could get me there before eight?” You threw a grin at him as he looked at his watch, it was Seven thirty.

“I mean we can try, no promises.”

You laughed, “It’s fine if we’re late. I own the company, they can’t fire me.”

Arcas just smiled at you as the elevator dinged on the basement floor. The two of you stepped off and, as you looked up at the car that had been pulled out in front of the elevator waiting for you, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Bucky leaned against the front door of the car, he was staring at the ground arms crossed over his chest, dark hair falling into his face and of course, he wore black, head to toe.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Arcas said sounding surprised, “I didn’t know you were coming on detail this morning, sir,”

“Yeah, change of plans. I’ll take detail this morning, You’re with Steve tonight.” Bucky said standing up to his full height.

“Of course, sir,” Arcas nodded,

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t find the words at that moment. Bucky looked so good, so, so, good. You just stood there like an idiot staring at him, and then he looked at you.

God damn it, he just looked at you, and you felt that feeling that only Bucky ever gave you run straight through your spine.

“Hi,” His voice graveled and husky,

“Hi…” Why the fuck did you sound do breathless.

“How are you?”

Did he really just ask that? After basically abandoning you? He is an idiot.

“I’m fine, you?”

“Good, good.”

You stood awkwardly in front of each other for a moment until he moved aside and opened the car door for you, waiting for you to get in. The moment you got in you sighed and grimaced, why the fuck had that been so awkward. And outside the car, Bucky was having similar thoughts before he gathered himself and got into the car beside you.

~~~

After the quietest car ride you had ever experienced in your life, Bucky escorted you to your meeting downtown. He says nothing as he walked you up to the front of the building, into the elevator, and right to the door of the boardroom you would be in.

“I’ll wait outside,” Was all he said before he walked off again, leaving you staring at him confusedly.

You had no idea how to even react to this, here he was pretending like nothing had happened between the two of you, and going about his business like you were just work to him.

Of course, you were just work, he had said it. Fucking idiot.

You shake your head and sign before walking into the boardroom, ridding yourself of thoughts of you and Bucky, you had a job to do, and you couldn’t let that distract you today.

~~~

“Are you hungry?” You asked Bucky, walking up to where he sat in the waiting area, after your meeting.

He looked up at you in surprise, quickly rising to his feet and tucking the book in his hand under his arm.

“Yeah, I could eat.” He nodded,

“Good, we’re going to get tacos from across the street,”

Another surprised look flashed across his face, “You want food that isn't prepared in a five star kitchen?”

“Yes, Bucky, I want tacos, lets go.” Even though you really were just looking for an excuse to be alone with him for a moment. 

Bucky chuckled and nodded, taking the lead and walking you towards the elevator. The two of you were quiet as you rode it down to the lobby, and then walked across the street to the little Mexican restaurant that was there.

The little restaurant wasn’t what you were expecting at all, it was colorfully decorated with bright pinks and yellows and greens, there was artwork painted all the walls, skulls decorated in flowers and other various drawings.

Bucky of course picked the safest table, with the easiest access to all the entrance and exit points and where you’d be safest. Furthest from the window closest to the back. The waitress takes both your orders and then disappears to go collect your drinks leaving you both alone again.

“What are you eating to feed an army?” You asked Bucky after he’d ordered, like, five tacos,

“I’m 240 pounds, with a metabolism that burns faster than the average person. I need to eat like I am feeding an army,” Bucky replied, amusement in his blue eyes.

“Does all that food just go to your chest because it’s like a fucking brick shithouse these days.”

Bucky let out a laugh at your comment and your heart jumped, you missed his laugh.

“Have you been eating? Because you look starved,”

“Well my bodyguard slash Chef abandoned me to Steve Rogers who can’t cook for shit, and Sam Wilson who insists pizza is a breakfast food so, yeah, I am kind of starved,” You retorted, it sounded harsher than you’d meant it to.

All the humor vanished from his face, and his eyes dropped to his hands which were clasped on the table before him.

“I’m sorry,” He said softly, “I just thought it’d be-”

“Better that way, I know.” You finished his sentence for him,

Bucky looked up at you, those starlight blue eyes of his unreadable as he did. Just looking at him now made your heart ache for him. Fuck, why the hell did you have to fall in love with the one person who was completely wrong, yet so right, for you.

“How’s your hand doing?” He asked gesturing towards the hand you’d punched him with, which was not in a black brace after your knuckles cracked from punching him.

“It’s fine, I barely felt it.”

“Tough cookie, my jaw took quite the hit,” He tried to make a joke but Bucky felt miserable knowing he’d done that to you.

“Well you deserved it, you’re an asshole.”

“I know, and I am sorry,”

“Stop saying you’re fucking sorry, Bucky,”

He was about to reply when the waitress returned to the table with your drinks. She placed them down, while the two of you stared at each other, you hadn’t planned on having an argument with him at that moment in fact quite the opposite. You just wanted to be around him, even for a little bit, but, obviously, you were still upset with him.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked sounding exasperated, “I can’t let anything happen to you, and me being with you only leads to something bad happening to you,”

“So that’s it then, just fuck me a couple of times, satisfy yourself, and you’re done?”

“Come on, you know that’s not, it never was...it’s not like that,” Bucky sighed, he was doing a shitty job of expressing his feelings at that moment,

“Forget it, I don’t care.”

“Please understand, I’m doing this for your safety,” Bucky said, his voice almost pleading with you now,

“I want Arcas back tomorrow, I don’t want to see you.” You said coldly, “And I want to leave now, take me home.”

“Don’t you want to eat first?”

“No, just take me home.”

You rose to your feet, and Bucky sighed deeply signalling the waitress over. This was not the way he pictured this lunch going but, then again, he wasn’t doing a very good job at explaining things to you right then.

After getting the food to go, he takes you back to the car and tells the driver to head home. Once again the deafening silence filling the car and the space between the two of you

~~~

Another week goes by and you don’t see Bucky, your life feels normal again. But it’s the furthest thing from normal, Steve is constantly around now, and he’s always pacing, he never tells you why and when he leaves he always gives you a reassuring smile and says,

“A few more days, and you’ll be rid of all of us,”

Then walks out, leaving you to ponder just what the hell was going on. If Jasper was dead then why did you still need protection, why were you constantly being escorted around, and what was with all the hushed talking around you and nervous eyes.

None of this was making any sense to you, this whole ordeal should be over by now.

You had just come back from an event, a charity benefiting the Bronx School of Science. It was a relatively nice evening with Steve on your arm, it turned out better than you’d hoped. But the entire time all you could think about was Bucky, and you found yourself fighting the urge to ask about him until you couldn’t anymore.

“Steve?” You said softly as he walked you to your front door,

“Yes?”

“How’s...is…” You voice trailed off and  you sighed,

“He’s fine, just a little preoccupied at the moment. Some new things came to light on a case he’s working, and it’s taking up all his time. He’ll come around soon enough,” Steve instinctively knew what you were trying to ask and you give him a small smile in response.

You knew that wasn’t the reason Bucky had basically abandoned you, but you were grateful Steve was polite enough not to say the real reason to you.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” You said,

“Of course, It’s my job, and my pleasure.” He smiled at you, as he walked around the apartment scanning it quickly before walking back to the front door.

Right...it was his job, just like it had been Bucky’s to protect you, and now he’d left you.

“Achilles will be on duty tonight with you, and if you need anything, as always, FRIDAY is a call away,”

“Goodnight Steve,”

“Ma’am.”

You give him one last smile before he walked out and locked the door behind him. You sighed softly, before kicking off your heels and tugging the zipper to the long formal dress you wore, down.

You make your way through the apartment, heading towards the kitchen. You were in the mood for some hot cocoa and for once in your life you wanted to make it yourself. You slowly removed the diamond earrings you wore dropping them onto the kitchen counter, then the necklace. You moved to the fridge and pulled out the milk, setting it out the counter beside the stove and reached for a mug.

As you waited for the milk to heat up on the stove, you began to remove the emerald bracelets on your wrists and without thinking  you undid the watch Bucky had given you, and dropped it onto the counter as well.

The milk had begun to bubble, so you quickly removed it from the stove, pouring it into the mug which contained the hot cocoa in it. Your mind was elsewhere while you stirred the mixture together, your thoughts wandering to Bucky and the night you’d danced with him.

A smile came over your features as you remembered what a great dancer he was, and how handsome he looked in that tuxedo of his. Picking up your mug you turned around, and suddenly screamed with fright almost dropping the mug in your hands.

“Arcas!” You yelped stumbling backwards upon seeing the agent standing there, he was in the doorway fully armed, with a scowl on his face, “What the hell, announce yourself. You damn near gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry Ma’am.” He said almost robotically, unmoving from his position in the doorway.

“What are you doing here? I thought Achilles was on duty tonight?” You asked with a frown, why the hell were there suddenly alarm bells going off inside your head. The way Arcas stood there, and just stared at you, unmoving, seemingly expressionless.

He seemed taller, larger...colder.

“I relieved Achilles tonight, something came up.” Arcas said, he took one slow step towards you, and your heart jumped.

“Oh, Captain Rogers didn’t mention-”

“He was the one who made the switch,” He interrupted you, and takes another step closer. Suddenly you felt vulnerable, he was blocking the exit to the kitchen, and your only weapon against him was the mug of cocoa in your hand.

“Weird that he never told me,” You mumbled, your heart was thundering in your chest at that moment.

“You aren’t wearing your watch,” Arcas commented his eyes going to the watch on the counter, of which he now stood just a foot away from.

“I should probably put it back on,” Your voice jumped slightly and Arcas noticed this. He picked up the watch slowly and looked at it then at you, a cold expression on his face now.

“Not necessary,” Was all he said before he tucked the watch into his pocket, and stalked closer to you. You immediately backed away, stumbling backwards, your dress catching beneath your feet.

“I’m...I should go to bed,” Your voice comes out breathless, as your heart hammered in your chest.

Something was wrong, you could feel it, like your spidey senses were tingling. Nothing about this made you feel safe.

“I think you’d better come with me,” Arcas said in a low voice, he moved closer and your back hit the counter behind you. He’d cornered you without you even realizing.

“No, I think I’ll call Captain Rogers, first,” The fear in your voice is evident now,

Suddenly he drew a gun from his side and held it to your face, a small cry of terror escaped your throat and you dropped the mug in your hands and it hit the floor smashing into a hundred little pieces, instinctively raising them.

“Oh god,” You said softly, terror gripping you tightly as you looked at the barrel aimed between your eyes.

“I don’t want to kill you, at least not yet…” Arcas said in a sinister voice, a slow smile spreading across his features and he looked terrifying, “So comply and you will stay alive,” 

Before you could respond, he raised the pistol in his hand and whipped it across your temple, pain lanced across your head, and you let out a soft scream, falling to the floor, where you blacked out immediately.

~~~

The middle of winter always cast a dark shadow of the City, but Bucky loved it. He got to escape life for a moment, and hide himself away in the darkness, burrowing himself in a book, or some other quiet activity.

Lately, he hadn’t been able to do that and find any comfort in it. His mind always going back to you and your safety, he would check his phone every few minutes ensuring you were okay, and that you were safe.

The minute Sam or Steve came back from escorting you somewhere Bucky would be around them asking a hundred questions. Were you okay? Did you eat? Did you look tired? Who was with you now? Is the apartment safe?

Steve answered them patiently while Sam just argued with Bucky until he finally gave in and gave Bucky some peace of mind that his lady love was fine and alive.

None of this eased the unrest in his heart, Bucky wanted to see you so badly, but he knew he couldn't. Not until he found the sleeper Winter Soldier, who was clearly hiding in plain sight before them.

Bucky lay on his bed, holding a file in his hands as he read through it, again and again. It was the incident report from the day the car had been attacked, he was looking for something, anything, in the report that could give them an idea or even a clue to point them in the right direction.

He got to the end of the report and sighed, his eyes running over the agents who signed it. He read it once, not thinking anything of it, then he paused, and quickly sat upright, squinting down at the page, again.

He frowned at the name and froze, his brain trying to run through the incident to make sure he didn’t miss this agent being there, and the the realization suddenly hits him like a ton of bricks.

No. No. No. he couldn't have missed this detail.

Bucky practically dove off the bed, scrambling towards the door, and ripped it open, before sprinting down the hallway to Steve’s room. He banged loudly on Steve’s bedroom door before he heard his friend mutter a string of curses, and a muffled thud and the door swung open to reveal a squinting disheveled Steve who had clearly just awoken from his sleep.

“What Buck-” Steve began to say but he sees the look on Bucky’s face and is immediately wide awake, “What happened?”

“Arcas!”

“What?”

“Arcas is the sleeper Winter Soldier!”

“What? How? I don’t understand,” Steve looked confused,

“He was on the report for the assassination attempt, he signed her in. But Arcas wasn’t supposed to be there,” Bucky said breathlessly showing Steve the file and pointing to Arcas’ signature, “I know this for a fact because he was supposed to be in DC that day.”

“Fuckin’ hell!” Steve swore and was immediately pulling on a sweater and his shoes, both of them rushing down the hallway to wake up the rest of the team.

“Where is he?” Bucky demanded,

“Bucky…” Steve said quietly, the slow horror of where Arcas was dawning over him as he had relieved Achilles on your protection duty tonight and allowed Arcas to take his place after Achilles called in sick.

“Steve, where is he?” Bucky asked slowly, quietly. His heart hammering in his chest as he silently prayed Steve wasn’t going to say those two words he didn’t want to hear.

“With her…”

[quarantinemusiccalendar]

Day 25: Nick Drake - Bryter Layter

Uncovering the story of Nick Drake (1948 - 1974) feels a bit like reading about Vincent van Gogh, but in the musical world. He was an English singer/songwriter, a shy musical genious, who appeared on the musical scene quietly and equally quietly disappeard just half a decade later. A quarter century later he became legend and his music is finally getting the interest it should have recieved decades ago.

In his short career he released only 3 records, Five Leaves Left (1969), Bryter Layter (1971) and Pink Moon (1972), and none of them sold more then 5000 copies on original release. The problem with making music is that you don’t want to appear quietly and remain unnoticed. He loved making music, but since he started to play music professionally and created his debut record, he hated playing it live and hated promoting it as well. To such a degree that record company executives, who were trying to get more exposure of his record, didn’t even manage to persuade him to do a TV session programme for BBC, where he would only had to perform in a studio. And after the release of his 3rd album, he gradually sank into depression, withdrawn himself from all social contact and suffered from insomnia. He died in 1974 from an prescribed antidepressants overdose. Five years after that, a release of the retrospective album Fruit Tree (1979) triggered a reassessment of his catalogue and sparked some interest mainly in musical circles. A decade later, artists such as Robert Smith (The Cure), Peter Buck (R.E.M.), Kate Bush and Paul Weller were crediting Drake as their influence. Then appeared his biography and was followed by a TV documentary a year later. In 2000, the title track from Pink Moon album appeared in a Volkswagen Cabrio TV advert, and within a month Nick Drake had sold more records than he had in the previous 30 years. (1)

Nick Drake wrote songs of a rare sense of tranquility. His enchanting moody melodies are built around acoustic folk-jazz guitar figures and muffled percussion, with an occasional use of strings, piano and a flute here and there. The richly textured harmonies bear influence of the folk singers of the 60′s such as Bob Dylan, Van Morrison and mainly Donovan. His lyrics are impressionistic and vivid but sketchy and often feel like an unconscious whisper mumbled out in a sleep. While studying English LIterature at Cambridge he took special interest in English romantic poets and this influence seeps into his lyrics. Drake didn’t have a wide vocal range, but sang in a soft soothing voice and enhanced the calming quality of his songs. All of that arranged into songs that feel like a breeze.

In 1970 Drake put out a second record: Bryter Layter. And compared to his  then his first one it is brighter, lighter and more optimistic. And in an attempt to make his music a little bit more marketable, he agreed to add more bass and percussion. In 2003, the album was ranked number 245 on Rolling Stone magazine's list  of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

The song Fly is so sublimely beautiful and magical, it would be almost possible to believe that it has materialized from nothing but sunshine and summer morning mist. It’s a song about missed opportunities, longing for an opportunity to get to know someone he knows little about, it’s about a relationship that ended before they really began. But it’s not sad or bitter, rather sunny and lovely. The song was co-produced by John Cale (ex-Velvet Underground). Poor Boy is a jazzy song and it seems to be mainly about himself. He is describing a wondering spirit, an transient person who feels intensely lonely and is a stranger to everyone while.

The intertwining lines of the rolling piano and the guitar picking  in One of These Things First is accompanied by lyrics in which he reflects on his past lives or the lives he could have lead. Given his failing music career, it is quite easy to see him thinking, if he made the right choice and what other possibilities are out there. And at the same time working this topic it into a song.

Northern Sky, a blissfully happy love song describing how someone makes him feel, was also co-produced by Cale who lead the direction of the recording really, but that as the songs were reforming Drake relaxed and guardedly enjoyed himself. Cale added celeste, piano and organ and combined them in a way which is as close to perfection as music gets. It’s not really sure about whom this song is. There were several women Nick Drake got close to in his twenties, but none of these friendships developed past its platonic stage. Sunday is just lovely melody, with no lyrics to it. Worth listening nevertheless. It truly is one of the most beautiful, melancholic and serene albums ever written.

Happy Saturday, relax and enjoy.

Album highlights:   - Fly - Poor Boy - One of These Things First - Northern Sky - Sunday

Playlist:   https://spoti.fi/3bB5lH7

Links and references: - Nick Drake - Wikipedia - Bryter Layter (album) -  Wikipedia - S.Demorest (30 June 1977) “ Bryter Layter“ The Rolling Stone Magazine. - T. Jonze (14 March 2014) ”10 of the best: Nick Drake“. The Guardian.

[marshmallow--3]

Imagine - being the son of a pub landlord and meeting Jacob Frye one night.

So I know this is two men so I don't actually know if any of you guys want this tag. If you don't, feel free to let me know in a message and I can remove the tag for you.

It wasn't exactly the career you had in mind, but after accidentally breaking one of your father's windows, you had to pay off your debt somehow. He needed an extra pair of hands to lug barrells of alcohol from the cellar, top up the patrons' drinks and safeguard the money drawer against thieving hands. So here you are, slumped at the bar, stifling your yawns as the night ticks on and you can only imagine being in bed fast asleep.

Settling your gaze on the crowds occupying the pub, you notice people wearing green jackets with yellow sashes surrounding a well-dressed man. Everyone seems to be cheering about something, raising their drinks in a toast and spilling the frothy liquid everywhere. Great. You can add re-mopping the floors to the extensive list of chores to do later.

Blinking out of your daze, you see the man perched over at the bar, tapping a coin between his fingertips with a raised eyebrow. Apologising and taking his order, you steal glances at his face, inhaling deeply and inwardly sighing at how easy on the eyes he is.

Despite the elegance of his garbs, he has a rather pugilistic face and build, a strong jaw with a faint white nick on the left side that hides amongst his dark whiskers. A matching scar cuts through his right eyebrow, making you wonder just what kind of man he is to be accumulating all these injuries. Those hazel eyes sparkle with mischief, his slender fingers attracting your eye as they run through his mud-brown hair.

If you're honest, you've been questioning your... sexual allegiance for quite some time now. In your youth you had a crush on a neighbour boy for quite a few years before the two of you drifted apart, but you find yourself equally attracted to girls now and again. But between the way his tongue darts out to wet his soft-looking pink lips before he speaks, the goofy grin he sports when you respond to his banter with a joke of your own, the subtle brush of his finger against yours when he hands you his coins, you can't help the blush that creeps onto your face or the butterflies that swarm in your stomach.

After a smooth-flowing conversation, you exchange names and smile coyly when you hear his velvet voice repeat the syllables of your name, your heart threatening to burst out of your chest at any moment.

Downing the last of his drink, Jacob murmurs, "Meet me out back in five minutes," before shooting you a wink that makes your knees weak, returning to his group with a gay saunter. Blushing, you look on at the spot he previously occupied for a few beats, wondering just what the hell is going to happen.

The anticipation overwhelms you. Unable and unwilling to talk yourself out of it, exactly five minutes later you slip out the back door and loiter in the alleyway behind the pub. You consider making yourself look busy with the bins, instead opting to tuck your hands into your pockets and kick a small stone in your path, your breath misting in the crisp night air. Emerging from the shadows, Jacob greets you, sporting a flirtatious grin.

Opening your mouth to return the greeting, your words are lost in the back of your throat when he approaches you, pressing his lips against yours.

Barely managing to pull away, you begin to ask, "What--"

Jacob presses his finger to your lips. Clearly he doesn't want to draw any unwanted attention, and you can hardly blame him. Two men kissing in a dingy alleyway? How perfectly sordid.

He returns his lips to yours; his hands start in your hair, combing through the strands as the kiss deepens. You barely catch his groan when you suck lightly on his lower lip, the action stirring heat in his groin. His tongue probes the seam of your lips, causing you to moan lowly and part them, your hands grabbing the lapels of his coat and drawing him closer.

His breath hitches at the sudden enthusiasm you exhibit, sliding his hands over your lean hips and cupping around to your ass, squeezing gently as his teeth nip your lower lip. You shudder in response, dragging your tongue over his and groaning at the sandpapery texture, wet and warm, not to mention in your mouth.

You feel your cock twitch at the heady kisses, feeling truly intoxicated and floating in your own world. His taste is wonderful, the bitter taste of his pint mixing with a sweetness you imagine is his natural taste. And dear lord, he smells even better, the proximity of your faces allowing your nostrils to inhale his peppery scent with every breath.

He backs you up against a brick wall, nudging your forehead with his to gulp down air. The warmth and weight of his body pressing up against yours has you peering up at him, looking as startled as a deer.

Jacob chuckles, "Relax, lad."

Gingerly you reach a hand up and press against his whiskers, finding yourself craving the scratch of the fine hairs. Closing his dark eyes, he purrs and nuzzles your palm, licking his lips and pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. Bumping his nose with yours, warm air fans over your face, his breath much quicker now than when you began.

His palm strokes down the front of your shirt, caressing your chest, followed by your abdomen, landing on the bulge growing in your trousers and squeezing it experimentally. You inhale sharply, debating the situation. You don't want anyone walking in on whatever is about to happen. Public indecency is one thing, but gross indecency?

Your nerves get the better of you, your body visibly tensing as your mind drifts away from the present. During your internal debate, Jacob had started to kiss down your neck, latching onto a spot that would be easily covered by a shirt collar and sucking harshly, marking you with a pink ring.

Spreading his thumb over the outline of the head of your cock through your trousers, he whispers, "Do you want this, lad? I won't go any further until you tell me."

Jesus Christ, his voice is pure sin. You're convinced he could make any suggestion sound amicable. Deciding you're too aroused to not let it happen, you press your crotch into his palm, nodding eagerly and wheezing, "Please."

Jacob smirks and plants a final lingering kiss on your lips, his bedroom eyes boring into yours and promising you nothing short of absolute pleasure.

He plucks open the buttons of your shirt while you fumble with his many layers. Unbuttoning his waistcoat and dress shirt, loosening his red tie around his neck, you expose a region of his chest and gulp at the godlike sight. You mumble, "Fuck," eyeing up the chiseled pecs lined with dark hair that trails south and disappears under his trousers. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo but he drops to his knees before you can study it further, his tongue dancing over your skin and distracting you with precise damp strokes.

On his knees, he rubs his hands against you through your trousers, pressing his fingers against the outline of your cock with firm pressure. He sees you bite your lip, breathing softly and in a controlled way. For now.

He starts to undress your lower half, unbuckling your belt and unbuttoning your trousers, then stroking the tips of his fingers against you through your drawers.

He loves it when you groan deeply. It makes him want to stand up and cup your face, plant kisses on your lips and jaw, then kiss and bite all along your neck and down your throat. It's cruel temptation, but he quite likes the view down where he is.

Jacob leans forward and kisses the bulge through the linen fabric, sliding your trousers down your legs. He kisses your upper thighs and stomach, lifting your shirt by a few inches to kiss along the upper hem of your underwear. Unlacing your drawers, he looks up at you while pulling the fabric down, shimmying your cock out from it's restraints and taking it into his palm.

He brushes his thumb over the foreskin and pulls it back to expose the head, the slit dribbling precum. Your cock throbs in his warm calloused palm, your chest heaving as you question if this is really happening, or if you've simply fallen asleep on your shift and will be woken up at any second to your father clipping you behind the ear.

Jacob spits into his hand and jerks you slowly with a tight fist, still gazing up to gauge your response. Your fingers grip the wall behind you, your eyes hooded and you huff raggedly.

When his thumb brushes over a particularly sensitive spot, you mumble, "Oh, fuck," twitching into full hardness.

He teases you, "Does that feel good, love?"

You nod and open your mouth to respond, but instead groan a little louder than you should have, looking down to see Jacob's lips wrapped around your head, pushing forward and sucking the first inch or so of your cock.

You ahh and grunt at the slick heat of his mouth, at his dexterous tongue swirling around your head as his head begins to bob in your lap, his fingers pressing against your hips as they threaten to buck forward. He pulls back, dragging his tongue on the underside of your cock and hitting the sensitive spot he previously discovered.

He continues moving his fist along your cock with a wonderful flick of his wrist, "You have to be quiet, lad."

"I know."

"We don't want anyone seeing you getting all cute and flustered, do we? No, that sight is for me and me alone."

Ascending your body reluctantly, he taps your lips once in contemplation. Tugging his red tie through his collar, he screws the fabric up into a ball and asks you to open wide, muffling your sounds with the makeshift gag.

He hums in satisfaction, returning to his kneeling position and teasing every inch of you with his exceptional skill.

He gets your cock nice and lubed up with his saliva while he sucks joyfully, pulling his head away to stroke your length with his hand and licking the head at a languid pace, swirling his tongue around the ridge. You shudder when he moans and his lips vibrate against your sensitive skin, growing somewhat impatient as you begin rocking your hips out from the wall.

Pinning your hips down, he brings you closer as he pushes his head further forward, making his lips and cheeks tight around your cock as it throbs inside his mouth. Your movements become still, muffling your moans into the tie non-stop, your fingers carding through his silky hair.

Jacob is moaning more now that he can taste your precum, placing his lips a cm away from your tip, pouting them into a tight o, then pressing them down tightly around the head, his tongue lapping up your indulgent taste - mildly bitter with a salty kick.

Your body starts to tense up, so he knows you’re getting close. Wanting to try one last thing before he pushes you over the edge, he lowers his head and sucks one of your balls into his mouth. He creates an intense suction, jacking you off as fast as he can go without overstimulating you.

Your chest is rising and falling radically at this point, you gasp and groan out against your gag, unable to put the words together to announce your impending orgasm. Jacob swaps his hand and mouth over, kneading your balls with gentle hands and bobbing his head along your cock. You cum straight into his mouth, your hips jerking forward as you attempt to groan out his name.

He looks up at you in response, keeping your cock close to the back of his throat as he swallows every last drop of cum. You groan again at the sensation, your cock throbbing erratically against his cheeks and tongue, your body ready to collapse as your energy leaves you.

Still mumbling into your gag, your head spins for a moment before slumping back against the wall.

"Fuff."

@sassenach-on-the-rocks @katbernoulli @winterwriter8845 @thank-god-its-fryeday @yourchepazworld @iceboundstar @the-purple-rook @lcvingvincent @balladofthesadcat @ladye11e

[77marvelimagines]

Perhaps “Fuck Off” Might Be Too Kind

Perhaps “Fuck Off” Might Be Too Kind

Bucky Barnes X Reader

Prompt(s) from anonymous: Okay Bucky x reader based off the song Do me a Favour by The Arctic Monkeys. Basically Bucky breaking up with the reader because he thinks she’s in danger by being with him. Thank youu ♥️

Note(s): Omg hello anon! Sorry this sat for so long! I just finished spring break and, sadly, I had plans for most of it so this was the only fic I could get out. But, dear anon, I am sorry this sat so long! Hope you enjoy <3

Warning(s): A bit of angst.

Word Count: 983.

Music from the Arctic Monkeys had been playing all evening. Over the clinking of the pots and the nicks of the knife, the music lit up the lofty kitchenette. (y/n) swayed and sang along as they made dinner. The lyrics from “R U Mine” and “Do I Wanna Know” poured from their lips as they turned and exaggerated their dance moves to Bucky. They laughed, carefree, and jumped to the beat. 

The supersoldier chuckled, subdued, as he looked up from his potato-cutting. His small grin brought a swell of happiness to them, so they danced harder and sang even more passionately. A moment later, Bucky slid the veggies over before going and wrapping his arms around them, a hum rumbling in his chest as he swayed in time to “Four Out of Five”.

“You’re not singing along,” (y/n) pouted. They turned and snuggled against his neck, smiling at the second hum he gave.

“Sorry,” Bucky murmured, “I’ve got a… few things on my mind. A few things I think I need to talk to you about, actually. Soon.”

“Oh?” (y/n) pulled their head back up so they could talk. They couldn’t help but notice how unsure Bucky looked. He kept sliding his eyes away and gazing at the phone on the counter, where “Four Out of Five” was winding down. They tucked a few strands of long brown hair behind his ears, where his messy bun had been falling out. They smiled despite their own inkling of nervousness. Some days were bad days, and that was okay. “Lay it on me, hun. The potatoes aren’t going anywhere and the chicken doesn’t need to go in the oven for another ten minutes. What’s up, sweetheart?”

Bucky frowned. His eyes flitted over to the phone as “Do Me A Favor” started up. He listened to the beginning, the tempo of his sway adjusting. He knocked his head to (y/n)’s gently as the frown deepened. (y/n) didn’t comment on the mist in his eyes or the way his hands tightened to the back of their jacket. They gave him his time, patient, as he gathered them closer. The beat of the drum and the strum of the guitar drifted through the kitchen.

His voice came out hoarse. It sounded stretched thin despite his silence as he nuzzled into (y/n)’s temple. They shuddered when he spoke.

“Well, the mourning was complete, and there was tears on the steering wheel dripping on the seat...several hours or several weeks, I'd have the cheek to say they're equally as bleak…”

His tone of voice and the song clicked faster than (y/n) would have liked. They sighed, sad, and tangled a hand in the mess that was his hair. “Buck…”

The drum kicked in the pause. The pained, bit-back smile Bucky gave was enough of an answer. (y/n) shook their head and knocked against his, hoping some sense would be driven in. They could feel the shake in his hands, bunched in the fabric of their clothes, and (y/n) didn’t have to be a genius to know that they were being ignored. God, they already knew what lyrics he was going to drive home, too.

“We’ve had this conversation before, Bucky-”

“It's the beginning of the end- the car went up the hill and disappeared around the bend. Ask anyone, they'll tell you that it's these times that it tends to start to break in half, to start to fall apart, hold on to your heart.

“And do me a favour and break my nose, or do me a favour and tell me to go away, or do me a favour and stop asking questions…”

(y/n) bit their tongue and let him speak. They stared into his eyes, frown small and firm, and hoped he’d look. He didn’t, was staring off beside them, but for a moment they hoped he’d look and see their determination. Another sigh pushed past their lips as the drum kicked. For such a short song, it played awfully long and loud.

“We talked about this, Buck,” They said again, before Bucky could speak the next verse. “I’m not leavin’ ya. Wakanda said you were doin’ good, and Steve said you were doin’ good, and you didn’t get this flat in Brooklyn for nothing. We’ve been together for more than a year, Buck, and none of those Avenger missions have told me any different. You’re still you, you’re not dangerous, and I love you.”

Bucky did look over then. There were tears in his eyes and an awful wobble to his chin. His metal hand gripped their shirt a little harder. The sticks were slamming on the drums and the guitar didn’t let up either. (y/n) let themself be dragged closer so he could nuzzle their temple.

“Perhaps "Fuck off" might be too kind,” He said, with his pained smile, and (y/n) knew he was saying the wrong verse. Hell, it wasn’t even a full one, but his point stood anyways.

(y/n) shook their head again, let their temple knock against his, and pulled him down so he could burrow into their neck. Bucky let them guide him until his forehead touched their shoulder. He took one big, shuddering breath before a wracking shake started from his shoulders. (y/n) held him tight, took over and swayed to beat of the music, and let their boyfriend hold on like they were the most important person left on Earth. Hell, to him, they might as well have been.

They swayed and let him hang. The music faded out. The queue had finished and the air of the kitchen felt stale. (y/n) tangled their hands a little further into Bucky’s hair and let him let it out. Some days were bad days and that was okay. They weren’t going anywhere.

Tag List:

@princess76179 @kalechipps @a-confused-blogger @agent-valkyrie-romanoff  @starkslaufey @bad-black-angel @pieceofsupersoldiertrash  @chari-a @bluudhavens @wowitstonystark

[ameryth74]

Louis **** Title Generator Tool

** **** it 

LOL.... go!

Two letter words:

There are 107 acceptable 2-letter words listed in the Official Scrabble Players Dictionary, 6th Edition and the Official Tournament and Club Word List:

AA, AB, AD, AE, AG, AH, AI, AL, AM, AN, AR, AS, AT, AW, AX, AY, BA, BE, BI, BO, BY, DA, DE, DO, ED, EF, EH, EL, EM, EN, ER, ES, ET, EW, EX, FA, FE, GI, GO, HA, HE, HI, HO, ID, IF, IN, IS, IT, JO, JU, JY, JZ, KA, KI, KO, LA, LI, LO, MA, ME, MI, MM, MO, MU, MY, NA, NE, NO, NU, OD, OE, OF, OH, OI, OK, OM, ON, OP, OR, OS, OW, OX, PA, PE, PI, PO, QI, RE, SH, SI, SO, TA, TE, TI, TO, UH, UM, UN, UP, US, UT, WE, WO, XI, XU, YA, YE, YO, ZA

Two letter contractions: I’m, I’d

Four letter verbs:

abet, abut, abye/aby, ache, alit, ally, ante, arch, aver, avow (10).

baby,  bach, back, bade, baff, bail, bait, bake, bald, bale, balk, ball, band, bang, bank, bant, barb, bard, bare, barf, bark, base, bash, bask, bate, bath, bauk, bawl, bead, beam, bean, bear,    beat, beck, bede, beef, been, beep, bell, belt, bend, bent, bere, best, bias, bide(archaic usage), biff, bike, bilk, bill, bind, bird, birl, birr, bite, bitt, blab, blat, blaw, bled, blet, blew, blip, blob, blot, blow, blub, blue, blur, boak, boat, bode, body, boff(vulgar usage), boil, boke, bomb, bond, bone, bong, bonk, boob, book, boom, boot, bore, born, boss, boun, bowl, brad, brag, bray, bred, brew, brim, buck, buff, bulk, bull, bump, bung, bunk, bunt, buoy, burl, burn, burp, burr, bury, bush, busk, buss, bust, busy, butt, buzz (117).

ca-ca, cage, cake, calk, call, calm, came, camp, cane, cant, card, care, carp, cart, case, cash, cast, cave, cede, cere, chap, char, chat, chaw, chid, chin, chip, chop, chow, chug, chum, cite, clad, clam, clap, claw, clay, clew, clip, clog, clop, clot, cloy, club, clue, coal, coat, coax, cock, code, coif, coil, coin, coke, comb, come, comp, cone, conk, conn, cook, cool, coop, cope, copy, cord, core, cork, corn, cosh, cost, coup, cove, cowl, crab, cram, crap, crew, crib, crop, crow, cube, cuff, cull, curb, curd, cure, curl, curr, cuss (90).

dado, daff, damn, damp, dang, dare, dark, darn, dart, dash, date, daub, dawn, daze, deal, deck, deed, deem, defy, deke, dele, demo, dent, deny, dial, dice, died, diet, dike, dine, ding, ding, dint, dirk, disc, dish, disk, diss, dive, dock, doff, dole, dome, done, doom, dope, dose, doss, dote, dove, down, doze, drab, drag, draw, dray, dree, drew, drip, drop, drub, drug, drum, duck, duel, duet, dull, dumb, dump, dung, dunk, dupe, dusk, dust, dyke (75).

earn, ease, echo, eddy, edge, edit, emit, envy, espy, etch, even, exit (12).

face, fade, fail, fake, fall, fame, fard, fare, farm, fart, fash, fast, fate, fawn, faze, fear, feed, feel, fell, felt, fend, fess, fete, feud, file, fill, film, find, fine, fink, fire, firm, fish, fist, fizz, flag, flap, flat, flaw, flay, fled, flee, flew, flex, flip, flit, flog, flop, flow, flub, flux, foal, foam, foil, foin, fold, fond, fool, foot, ford, fork, form, foul, fowl, frag, frap, fray, free, fret, frig, frit, fuel, full, fume, fund, funk, furl, fuse, fuss, futz, fuze, fuzz (82).

gaff, gage, gain, gait, gall, game, gang, gaol, gape, garb, gash, gasp, gast(obsolete), gate, gaum(US), gave, gawk, gawp, gaze, gear, geld, gibe, gift, gild, gill, gimp, gird, girt, give, glad(archaic), glom, glow, glue, glug, glut, gnar, gnaw, go by, go on, goad, golf, gone, gong, goof, gore, gown, grab, gray, grew, grey, grid, grin, grip, grit, grow, grub, gulf, gull, gulp, gush, gust, gybe, gyre, gyve (64).

hack, haft, hail, hale, halo, halt, hand, hang, hare, hark, harm, harp, hash, hasp, hast, hate, hath(archaic), haul, have, hawk, haze, head, heal, heap, hear, heat, heed, heel, heft, held, helm, help, hent(obsolete), herd, hewn, hide, hike, hill, hint, hire, hiss, hive, hoax, hock, hoke(slang), hold, hole, home, hone, honk, hood, hoof, hook, hoop, hoot, hope, horn, hose, host, hove, howl, huff, hulk, hull, hump, hung, hunt, hurl, hurt, hush, husk, hymn, hype, hypo (74).

idle, inch, iris, iron, isle, itch (6).

jack, jade, jail, jape, jazz, jeep, jeer, jell, jerk, jest, jibe, jilt, jink, jinx, jive, join, joke, jolt, josh, juke, jump, junk (22).

kayo, keek(Scots), keel, keen, keep, kept, kern, kick, kill, kiln, kilt, kink, kiss, kite, knap, knew, knit, knot, know (19).

lace, lack, laid, lain, lair, lake, lamb, lame, land, lard, lark, lase, lash, last, lath, laud, lave, laze, lazy, lead, leaf, leak, lean, leap, lech, leer, left, lend, lens, lent, levy, lick, lift, like, lilt, limb, lime, limn, limp, line, link, lisp, list, live, load, loaf, loan, lock, loft, loll, long, look, loom, loop, loot, lope, lord, lose, lost, loup(Scots), lour, lout, love, lube, luck, luff, luge, lull, lump, lure, lurk, lust, lute, lyse (74).

mace, made, mail, maim, make, mall, malt, mark, marl, mart, mash, mask, mass, mast, mate, maul, maze, mean, meet, meld, mell, melt, mend, meow, mesh, mess, mete, mewl, miff, milk, mill, mime, mind, mine, mint, mire, miss, mist, moan, moat, mock, moil, mold, molt, moon, moor, moot, mope, moss, move, muck, muff, mull, mump, muse, mush, muss, must, mute (59).

nail, name, near, neck, need, nest, nick, nigh, nill(obsolete), nock, nose, nosh, note, nuke, null, numb (16).

obey, ogle, oink, okay, omen, omit, ooze, open, oust, over (10).

pace, pack, page, pain, pair, pale, pall, palm, pang, pant, pare, park, part, pash(Austral), pass, pave, pawn, peak, peal, peck, peek, peel, peen, peep, peer, pelt, pend, perk, perm, pick, pike, pile, pill, pimp, pine, ping, pink, pipe, piss(vulgar), pith, pity, plan, plat, play, plod, plop, plot, plow, plug, pock, poke, pole, poll, pond, pool, pore, port, pose, post, pour, pout, pray, pree, prep, prey, prim, prod, prog, prop, puff, puke, pule, pull, pulp, pump, punt, purl, purr, push, putt (80).

quad, quip, quit, quiz (4).

race, rack, raft, rage, raid, rail, rain, rake, ramp, rang, rank, rant, rape, rase, rasp, rate, rave, raze, razz, read, ream, reap, rear, reck, redd(dialect), rede(archaic), redo, reed, reef, reek, reel, rein, rely, rend, rent, rest, re-up, rice, rick, ride, riff, rift, rile, rill, rime(archaic)/rhyme, ring, riot, rise, risk, rive, roam, roar, robe, rock, rode, roil, rolf, roll, romp, roof, rook, room, root, rope, rose, rout, rove, ruck, ruff, ruin, rule, rush, rust (73).

sack, said, sail, sale, salt, sand, sass, sate, save, sawn, scab, scam, scan, scar, scat, scud, scum, seal, seam, sear, seat, seed, seek, seel, seem, seen, seep, sell, send, sent, sewn, shag, sham, shed, shim, shin, ship, shit, shoe, shog, shoo, shop, shot, show, shun, shut, sick, side, sift, sigh, sign, silk, silt, sing, sink, sire, site, size, skew, skid, skim, skin, skip, slab, slag, slam, slap, slat, slay, sled, slew, slid, slim, slip, slit, slog, slop, slot, slow, slub, slue, slug, slum, slur, smut, snag, snap, snip, snow, snub, snug, soak, soap, soar, sock, soil, sold, sole, solo, soot, sorb, sort, soup, sour, sown, spae(scottish), spam, span, spar, spat, spay, spec, sped, spew, spin, spit, spot, spud, spur, spurn, stab, stag, star, stay, stem, step, stet, stew, stir, stop, stow, stub, stud, stun, suck, suds, suit, sulk, sung, sunk, surf, swab, swag, swam, swan(brit), swap, swat, sway, swig, swim, swob, swop(brit)/swap, swot, swum, sync (155).

tabu, tack, tail, take, talc, talk, tame, tamp, tang, tank, tape, tare, task, taut, taxi, team, tear, teem, tell, tend, tent, term, test, text, thaw, thin, thud, tick, tide, tidy, tier, tiff, tile, till, tilt, time, tine, ting, tint, tire, toil, toke, told, tole, toll, tomb, tone, tong, took, tool, toot, tope, tore, torn, toss, tote, tour, tout, tram, trap, tree, trek, trim, trip, trod, trot, trow(archaic), true, tube, tuck, tuft, tune, turf, turn, tusk, twig(Brit), twin, twit, type (79).

undo, urge (2).

vade, vail(archaic), vamp, vary, veal, veer, veil, vein, vend, vent, vest, veto, vide, view, vine, visa, vise, void, vote (19).

wade, waft, wage, wail, wait, wake, wale, walk, wall, wane, want, ward, ware(archaic), warm, warn, warp, wash, waul, wave, wawl, wean, wear, weed, ween, weep, weet, weld, well, welt, wend, went, wept, were, wert(archaic), wham, whap, whet, whid(Scottish), whip, whir, whiz, whop, wick, wile, will, wilt, wind, wine, wing, wink, wipe, wire, wise, wish, wisp, wist, wite, wive, woke, wolf, wont, wood, woof, word, wore, work, worm, worn, wove, wrap, writ(archaic) (71).

x-ray (1).

yack, yank, yard, yarn, yaup, yawn, yawp, yean, yell, yelp, yerk, yeuk, yock, yoke, yowl, yo-yo(informal), yuck (17).

zero, zest, zinc, zing, zone, zonk, zoom (7).

IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT IT

(yes there are 28 ITs)

[moonguardsecrets]

hi im berenal

So I'd like to preface by saying I don't really use this blog too much, I mostly read it every now and again but that's about it. I've been relatively quiet concerning this issue but frankly I don't think that's the right way to go about it anymore, so I'm just going to address some stuff.

I've always believed in being pretty transparent about my issues, especially beef with other people. So while this blog is all about being anonymous, I'm just going to put up my side of this whole thing.

1. Concerning my guild/our story. There's a post I've seen pop up a few times that we've accused Blizzard of copying our stuff for Drustvar. While there's some striking similarities between some of our stuff and Drustvar, we know that Blizzard doesn't care about some random guild on MG. It was a meme. Maybe it's cause sarcasm gets lost in text, idk, but we've never actually believed that our stuff was stolen. We've actually fully embraced the similarities and have been super looking forward to the Drust stuff cause it's a cool concept, but this idea that we've somehow been slighted by Blizzard/earnestly believe that there was a copy thing isn't true. It was a joke that I guess went over poorly outside of our guild. We still say it as a joke in our casual conversations, accusing a specific guild mate of being a blizzard spy whenever something funny happens. It's a little outlandish to me personally that it got taken seriously but hey I'm not going to point a finger around, I'm just clarifying that the Blades as a group doesn't actually think this.

As for my character, which I've seen people saying I try to roleplay Greymane, thanks I guess? Berenal as a character is meant to be insanely patriotic. If they ever turned Genn into a villain, Berenal would follow him, unless it was done so in a really weird way like old gods or something overtly obvious. The character is meant to echo Greymane's statements, but I've never tried to pass myself off as Genn IC or state I have absolute authority from him or whatever.

Our guild is centered around Gilneas foremost and we put a lot of our narrative in-house rather than post it up publicly because we don't believe in forcing an intrusive narrative. I know I've been accused of such personally when Flames of War was doing Ashenvale, though I'll address that a bit later.

2. Concerning the titles of ranks in the guild. Recently a post came out, which was deleted because it did include the name explicitly of our stuff, that was talking about a title given to one of my officers. The post included a mistranslation, saying it translated to queen. That's just blatantly not true. For some background, the position was a recent creation because our previous council system wasn't working too well for this branch so we downsized it to the main officer in charge of the branch of the guild.

Given that this is our pagan project, and they have their own language (which yes, we do proxy with Irish cause I'm not a linguist and I don't have the means or time to make my own language up), we used an amalgam of a few words to describe it. The title roughly translates to an arbitrator of law/leader of law. Not king, not queen. In fact it's not even a noble position either, it's an elected one that if Aleyina were to ever step down, it'd go to whoever was elected next. We use the title Grand Master, Spymaster, Rionasai, and a few others throughout the guild. They're all on the same level of 'power', and countless other guilds have similar structure. I'm not sure what drove the need to lie about that but I'd just like to clear that misconception up before I go into my next point.

3. Concerning the pagan project in my guild. My guild has had a pagan project in it for roughly 4-5 years. I put up the original article for it about almost a year after we started it. It's a story I personally started back in Mists of Pandaria and have cultivated alongside several others for years, it's something I only recently managed to hand off into other people's hands for running it because I couldn't focus on it, I have other narratives and stories that I tell in my guild, but here's the proof of how old this story is. (Note, at the time the Pagans were called "Wickers", which is actually where the whole drust meme even comes from on our side.)

https://i.imgur.com/7rgG9t5.png

I was fascinated with the bare minimal lore that Blizzard provided for the Old Ways and Harvest Witches/Wizards that I tried to expand on that by making a group of people based around the ideology of an expanded religion that roots its self from a common point in druidism.

What started originally as a side group grew into an entire branch of our guild and has since been something I've personally invested years worth of time growing and developing as a writing project alongside others. We've made a point of making nearly everything in this branch original content and it's at the point it's at after four to five years of growth and development alongside the main narrative of the guild. It's a project that I have personally cultivated with the help of others for years and has been personally invested into by the guild as a whole through nearly three expansions now.

On top of it, a while ago we were accused of having said our runes were celtic or something. That's not true. They're stylized elder futhark, we've never bothered to hide that. In fact, I've attached some images below.

https://i.imgur.com/q5MHveU.png

This is an image from Varian's grave in Stormwind. The runes are translatable elder futhark, and this is the closest representation to Common we have in the game.

https://i.imgur.com/C9jc7sG.png

This is an image from Haustvald in Stormheim. These runes too are Elder Futhark, though they've been slightly stylized and include some runes that are gibberish it's meant to represent Vrykul. The angle's a little bad but if you go there in game Elder Futhark is literally lining most of Stormheim. You can translate these as well, it's pretty nifty.

The premise of our written language for the project we have for runes has never been 'celtic', we just based it off whatever Blizzard ended up saying was 'humanity's language'. Our group takes some minor inspiration from norse and celtic themes, but the majority of it is original writing, and the runes themselves are based around the idea of having descended from vrykul runes; so we just kept to the format that Blizz themselves are using for humans in the game.

4. Concerning Flames of War. While this one has largely died down, I'd still like to address it. Flames of War is a team effort, something with over ten coordinators that all of us still actively communicate with one another fairly regularly. During this time I'd been claimed as a dictator, or that I was giving special attention to myself/my own. Flames of War has never been solely 'dictated' by my actions. Every major decision has been either voted on or come to consensus one way or another, including story decisions. Sure I'm the dude who made the server but I've forfeited any real 'power' that gives me in favor of a council system. Ergo, if you're mad at me for something that happened in Flames of War, I highly encourage you to re-assess the things that happened and either speak to myself or another coordinator. We're not in this for some weird power play or whatever, this is a video game in the end of the day and unlike some past 'moguls of the server', I'm earnestly just looking to make my virtual barbie doll be in some cool situations, not make him grand poobah of the alliance or whatever. I can speak on behalf of the rest of the team and say they feel the exact same way.

5. Concerning our adherence to lore. I know there's been some people who have accused my guild of breaking lore/saying I don't care about lore. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a giant lore fanatic and for whatever reason people use me like an almanac in a few servers for lore questions. I really honestly do try to keep the boundaries of my guild within reasonable lore parameters. Despite the rumors, no, my character doesn't have regular casual chats with Genn Greymane, no, our lands are not 'flawless with millions of gold and soldiers', no, we don't RP like we run Gilneas either. All we're trying to do is have fun with the game and tell a story of a rundown kingdom trying to get back on it's feet.

6. Concerning deleted secrets. Yes, I've requested secrets be deleted before because, honestly, ever since this nick-name stuff started it's stopped being remotely ambiguous. Sword of Genn isn't even remotely ambiguous. Neither is Knives of Greymane, that's just changing one word. The rules for the blog on the side state anything that can be considered trolling or abuse of anonymity is grounds for removal of secrets; so I've just used those rules since honestly, a lot of these are really weird accusations. Each time I've been willing/or have provided screenshots to prove the contrary. Not all secrets concerning my guild have been deleted; only the ones that break the rules. This segways into my final point.

As I said at the beginning of this huge post, I've always been a believer of transparency. If you have issue with me, or any of my guild mates, I'm honestly imploring people to contact me over Discord or in game. My tag is:

Berenal#0693 In game it's just Berenal, no weird letters. I'll be online in Boralus.

You don't need to contact me on your main account if you're afraid I'm going to 'out you' or whatever. Any conversation we have will be one on one between us. You can even delete it afterwards, I don't mind. So come to me on a throw-away discord account, let it out to my face, or maybe we can even hash out our differences. I'm more interested in getting this shit done with than trying to start a flame war, honestly. In the end of the day this is a game to me and mine, and we're all paying 15 bucks a month to have fun. I've cleared out my block list entirely, so there's nothing stopping people from contacting me.

I do hope folks reach out so we can hash our differences out and do our own thing, instead of whatever vendetta seems to have brewed up over play pretend for god knows what reason. I earnestly don't understand the point of the majority of these vitriolic posts; it just seems to subsist off the idea of throwing words around for what real reason? To upset people? I don't get it. I don't see what posting incessantly here about it does to fix anything.

If you've got issue with me or my guys come talk to me about it, my door's open.