#polishing your writing

[lnk-and-lnspiration]

The Importance of Revisions: Tips for Improving Your Writing

Writing is a creative process that requires dedication, skill, and the willingness to revise and improve. While the initial draft of a piece may capture the essence of your ideas, it is through the process of revisions that your writing truly comes to life. Revisions allow you to refine your work, polish your prose, and ensure that your message is effectively communicated to your readers. In this…

[ancientroyalblood]

Editing and Revising: Transforming Your Draft into a Polished Gem

Writing is a journey, and the first draft is often just the beginning. The true magic happens during the editing and revision process. This is where your words transform from raw material into a polished gem. In this comprehensive guide, we will take you through the step-by-step process of editing and revising your work. From structural changes to proofreading, we’ll provide you with the tools…

[hauntingofhouses]

We all already know Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils. But you know what? Lemme just say it, here's what I think:

Taigen and Mikio are foils.

Not necessarily to each other as individuals in the way that Mizu and Akemi juxtapose each other, but mostly in the contrast between their relationships with Mizu.

I've covered specific parallels between Taigen and Mikio in other posts I wrote; but as the number of parallels I'm noticing between them keeps piling up, I'm compelled to just compile them all in one post. So! This is, thus, the post in question.

First of all, let's look at their similarities.

1. Their status in society is the same. They are both samurai who lost their honour and have dreams of reclaiming it.

2. They are also both diligent as they strive to achieve this goal, they both care deeply about their work, but here as they begin to contrast, as the work in question and way they go about their goals is different:

For Mikio, his work is in taming and rearing horses; in order to prove himself, he must tame Kai—a willful and strong horse—and present it to his lord. For Taigen, his work is in sword fighting and martial arts; in order to prove himself, he must kill Mizu—a willful and strong swordsman—and present her dead body to his lord.

In the parallel above, not only are Taigen and Mikio contrasting each other, but Mizu and Kai are placed in comparison as well. And of course, Kai is Mizu's horse, and represents her. Which is why, when later, Mikio sells Kai off, it represents the way he is tossing Mizu (and their relationship) aside.

From there, the rest of the details of their character begin to contrast and juxtapose each other more clearly. So let's look at those differences, shall we?

Their backstory:

Mikio was a great samurai who was banished. A somebody to a nobody. Taigen was a fisherman’s son who rose to the top. A nobody to a somebody.

2. The first time we meet them on-screen:

Mikio is an adult. An older man. Mizu's superior in age. He is Mizu's to-be husband. A love interest. Taigen is a child. A young boy. Mizu's peer in age. He is Mizu's bully. An antagonist.

3. Their maturity and growth:

Mikio is mature, but stuck in his ways. Taigen is immature, but capable of changing and learning.

4. Their overall attitude:

Mikio is generally relaxed, easy-going and unfussy. Taigen is uptight, irritable and severe.

5. How they talk to and conduct themselves around Mizu:

Mikio is aloof, soft-spoken, and serious. Taigen is obnoxious, brash, and sarcastic. Mikio is quiet, speaking only when spoken to, even when Mizu turns to smile at him and shows openness to be near him. Taigen is loud, talking while others are silent, even when Mizu turns from him and shows no interest in conversing with him.

Mikio doesn't show much of who he is to Mizu throughout their marriage, despite their growing affection. Taigen openly shares his traumas and life story to Mizu during their brief alliance, despite their mutual antagonism.

6. Their external vs internal selves:

Mikio is calm, gentle, and considerate on the outside. Taigen is hot-headed, rude, and selfish on the outside. Mikio is cowardly and deceitful on the inside. Taigen is brave and loyal to a fault on the inside. Mikio tells Mizu that he wants to know and see all of her. But he scorns and betrays her, the woman he loves. Taigen tells Mizu that he wants to duel and kill him. But he endures torture to not betray him, the man he hates.

9. Their hair, a symbol of their honour:

Mikio's topknot is untied by Mizu during their spar. This humiliation occurs in private, the two of them alone in a rural location where no one can see them. Taigen's topknot is cut off by Mizu during their duel. This humiliation occurs in public, the two of them being watched by many others in the Shindo Dojo.

10. Their power dynamic with Mizu:

Mikio believes he is Mizu's mentor. He teaches her to throw knives, how to ride and care for horses, and about the tactical benefits of using a naginata. Taigen believes he is Mizu's equal. He views Mizu as a samurai like himself who received all the same teachings he did, and who possesses the same values.

11. Their perceptions of Mizu:

Mikio sees Mizu's feminine side first. He sees her as sweet and gentle, but also clumsy and incompetent. Taigen sees Mizu's masculine side first. He sees her as terrifying and deadly, but also strong and skilled.

12. The way they approach sparring with Mizu:

Mikio only spars with Mizu once. As the fight progresses and she is beating him, he tries to put a stop to it. When she teases/provokes him, he starts taking the fight personally and seriously, finding no enjoyment in it. Taigen spars and brawls with Mizu all the time. No matter how many times Mizu beats him, he doesn't back down. When Mizu challenges him with a chopstick, he is eager to compete with her and gladly rises up to the challenge.

Mikio and Mizu's one and only spar is a friendly match; Mizu is smiling and having fun while he grows increasingly frustrated. Taigen and Mizu's last-seen spar is a playful wrestling match; both him and Mizu are having fun and laughing.

Mikio cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, so he scorns her and walks off, avoiding her thereafter. When Taigen cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, he follows her to observe her moves and continues training in hopes to eventually beat her. After being bested by Mizu once, Mikio leaves her and sells the horse he'd previously gifted to her. After many times losing to Mizu and fighting alongside her, Taigen commends her and admits she is better than him.

13. When Mizu pins them down in a friendly spar:

Mikio sees Mizu's whole face objectively. Taigen stares at Mizu's mouth and eyes.

Mikio gets angry when she kisses him, throwing her off of him and snapping at her, calling her a monster. Taigen gets aroused, apologising, so she pulls herself off of him.

14. Mizu's blue meteorite sword is a reflection of her soul. She believes most are undeserving to face it, let alone hold it. And on that note:

Mikio is the first person (chronologically) that Mizu fights against using her sword. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) that Mizu fights against with her sword. Mikio is the first person (chronologically) to ever hold her sword, as she passes it to him, letting him wield it. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) to ever hold her sword, as she passes out, and he picks it up and carries it for her.

15. Then, last but not least, in Fowler's fortress, when she is drugged and in pain, she hears Ringo's voice in the dungeon. She then follows it to an open cell:

Mizu first sees Mikio as a hallucination, the sight of him haunting her and causing her to lose her grip on reality. Her eyes glow a surreal blue to represent this. Her Mama appears then and says Mizu's name accusingly.

Mizu then sees Taigen, but he is real, the sight of him a relief and grounding her back to reality. Her eyes return to their normal blue colour to represent this. Taigen looks at Mizu weakly and says her name softly.

Then, later, when facing Fowler, her revenge awaiting her, she instead chooses to follow her conscience (represented by Ringo's voice in her mind), putting aside her vengeance for a time, in order to save Taigen.

So that's basically all the ones I've noticed so far, but even then, I feel there's already so much that forms a contrast between these two.

What makes it especially incredible about these juxtapositions is that Mikio was Mizu's husband, the man she had fallen in love with, the one person she had ever been intimate with, the man who made her begin to accept herself, to put down her desire for vengeance and instead live a life of peace and happiness.

So for Taigen to have so many parallels with him... Do you see what I'm saying here!

Not to mention that Mizu clearly already has some burgeoning attraction to him, as indicated by how she thinks of him when asked about her desires. And Taigen clearly has shown interest as well (see: him getting a boner after their spar, him holding her hand and telling her, "We're not done yet.").

And on the topic of speculating future possibilities of this relationship, this post by @stromblessed has pointed out yet another parallel between Taigen and Mikio:

Mizu promises Taigen to meet him for their duel in autumn. Mizu fell in love with Mikio and duelled him during autumn.

With all that said, I do believe Mizu and Taigen's relationship is definitely hurtling towards something. But whether they will actually end up together in a sustainable relationship and have a happily ever after? Well, that is a whole other story; we'll just have to wait and see.

[girlsdads]

neurosurgery resident max the night before he’s scheduled to fly solo for the first time (he’s gonna be performing an awake craniotomy i decided), he can’t sleep bc he’s so anxious about doing everything right, normally he would jerk off to fall asleep but he’s like what if i accidentally jerk off too hard and my wrist is sore tomorrow and i fuck up someone’s actual brain

i lost the plot completely after this but lfg

he texts daniel who is also a surgical resident (he’s in trauma surgery so it’s still a precise field but more bloody and hectic and nobody he operates on is ever awake during it at least) and is like this sucks i need rest but i can’t sleep and i can’t jerk off bc i might sprain my wrist and then it will cramp tomorrow and i will stab my forceps into someone’s good brain tissue and daniel is like jeez max how hard do you jerk off lol. max is like *pouts, kicks his feet and pulls pillow over his face in frustration* dont make fun of me daniel this is very serious what do i do. daniel is like okay i’ll be there soon, be hard when i get there.

max is like what. but he’s honestly already at half mast from mentioning to daniel about jerking off and daniel is always taking care of him and max trusts him that he will actually help even if he has no idea what’s in store. there’s a little kernel of hope that maybe daniel means to get him off himself, but as max lays there hard and leaking as he waits for daniel to come over he tries not to get his hopes up even if what the fuck else would daniel say to be hard for.

daniel takes longer than expected to get to max’s apartment and by the time he finally arrives max is sweating and panting and about ready to tear his hair out if he doesn’t get to come or sleep or both. daniel approaches max’s bed (he has a key of course) and is stripping off his pants and underwear as he does (he keeps on his oversized hoodie from med school bc cozy), his cock is big and also getting hard and max hopes so much that daniel will wrap one of his lovely hands around max or maybe he will even grind his cock up against max’s and max can come that way.

max almost blacks out as daniel knee walks on the bed to straddle his hips and says softly tell me to stop if this isn’t ok, reaches back to spread himself open and lowers down to tease his hole over the soaked head of max’s cock. max is struck completely dumb as he feels daniel start to open around him, feels him already soft and wet and hot like he got himself ready beforehand because he was planning to do this for max.

daniel has barely sat all the way down on max’s dick before max can’t help but come right into daniel, bare and sloppy and perfect. when he’s done he makes grabby hands to daniel to get him to shimmy forward so he’s straddling max’s face, max is trying to hold his thighs and his hips and just grab him everywhere but daniel is like shhh baby you need these hands to be rested and gently holds max’s wrists and presses his hands down against the mattress by his sides, says be a good boy and keep them there for me, max nods because anything daniel, anything. daniel sits right down on max’s face and grinds on his tongue and his chin and his perfect nose until he comes all over max’s forehead and hair and a little on the pillows. daniel licks the come off max’s face then goes to the bathroom to clean himself out and comes back with a damp cloth to get the sticky remnants off max’s skin. daniel cuddles up to max after and max is asleep almost instantly, feeling safe and relaxed and happy.

the next day max nails his procedure, the patient does great and is recovering well in the PACU when his attending comes over and compliments the impeccable steadiness of his hands. max hopes the sickly fluorescent lighting overhead washes him out enough to hide his immediate flush.

max goes on to become one of the world’s leading neurosurgeons and daniel still sits on his cock whenever he can before max has a scheduled surgery the end.

[the-heros-sidekick]

❝ went looking for a creation myth, ended up with a pair of cracked lips. ❞

He feels it first at the back of his neck. A buzzing, like the crackling of electricity underneath his skin, reverberating against the hollow of his skull. Something is knocking, making its presence known: A particular kind of evil that had snuck into Stiles’ mind once already, stealing away control over his body. Condemning him to sit back, trapped in his own mind, rendering him powerless. Doomed to watch in horror as his  blood-stained hands wielded sharpened blades against those he loved. They’d gotten him out, though nearly at the cost of his own life—a sacrifice Stiles had been more than willing to make, so long as no one else would get hurt because of him. And yet something must have stayed behind, lodged into the membrane of his skull like a shard of glass. For the longest time he’d managed to keep the horrors contained to only haunt him in the dead of night, leaving him sleep deprived and wrung out, every nerve ending scraped thin. But now, even the light of day no longer offers refuge for Stiles to feel safe. Long gone is the once obnoxiously loud, carefree kid—left in its stead is a man carrying himself with caution, treading quietly across the space between other people’s reality and what lies beyond. He knows there are demons out there listening, waiting for an opportunity to exploit any sign of weakness—a door left slightly ajar, perhaps, much like the door to Stiles’ mind they’d never managed to close. The feeling of impending doom crescendos and Stiles, feeling sick to his stomach with fear, clings desperately to the words he repeats to himself like a mantra. "Nothing gets in unless you let it.” But the words turn to ash in his mouth, memories of past experiences proving him a liar. 

an exploration of Teen Wolf's 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐊𝐈—𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 who, after leaving Beacon Hills behind, settled down in New York where he's now considered the FBIs golden boy ― crafted for @fakevz. following canon events of the show with additional headcanons. low activity & very crossover friendly. minors dni. this blog operates in english only. est. 2014 ♗ ©

𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍: loss of innocence ⊹ comedic sidekick ⊹ overcoming demonic possession ⊹ a morally gray world ⊹ undying loyalty ⊹ survivor's guilt ⊹ agent of chaos ⊹ deflecting with humor

✧  𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 ✧ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 ✧ 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒

I think I've loved you since I met you. I just mistook it for curiosity.

Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I felt this unquenchable need to know you. I blamed it on ulterior motives, justified it because I needed something from you, because you held the answers I was looking for, because no one else was able to help but you. Looking back on it now though, I'm starting to think that maybe some part of me knew right from the start, that first night I stumbled upon you in the woods, what took me years to see: Maybe my heart recognized that it was going to love you right away, and I spent the years to come catching up with what it knew right from the start. That it was always going to be you. How could it ever have been anyone else? Through mayhem and bloodshed, through fear and loss, through grief and sleepless nights, you were the one constant that remained. When I lost sight of everything—first myself, then reality, then hope—you were the one guiding my way like a beacon, or a north star. If I've ever known peace, it's in all the moments that your hand has touched mine and that your arms have held me tirelessly, putting your body like a shield between me and every inkling of danger. Of all the late-night wonderings of trying to make sense of the last decade (and failing), what remains is this singular thought: At least it was you. At least it was me. At least it was us, together. I'd bear it all a million times over if it meant I got to hold your hand at the end of it all. You are the moment of quiet at the end of a long day, you are breathless laughter, you're the patch of sunlight filtering in through the window that I stand in to warm myself. You are everything good in this world and living proof that there is hope despite it all, and I love you beyond measure.

[tiktowafel]

do you ever think about how all you used to draw when you were 10 was ponies and that you should still know how to do that, then get an idea and proceed to draw something like these in nearly one sitting and it turns out better than any drawing you've done in the entire past month

sooo anyway does anyone have cutie mark or pony name ideas for them?? lol

[rambunctioustoons]

porch lights and fireflies

reader/moon, word count 1000

✨

Your socked feet quietly stalk along the hardwood. Groggily trying to evade triggering the call of creaky floors, stumbling your steps as you do. 

Led between the cracks of unpolished maple right up to the suspiciously wide open doorway. Unfocused sleepy gaze not deceiving you for once. 

Moon sat alone on the porch, huddled into himself. Dimmed painted casting blended right in with the night time sky, but his hat had always been a dead give away in the dark. 

Feeling your breath catch in your throat. So often darting away from you these days, you half expect his nimble limbs to straight up and bolt away from you into the forest. So many times as he had before. 

But you can't get your hopes up. "Hey," You say, barely above a murmur. Tightening the throw blanket wrapped around your shoulders, feeling the fibres brush up tightly along your fingertips. Time slowing almost. 

Choosing to approach. Hesitantly moving forward past the doorway, past the burn out porch lights. It shuffles further away from you, evading looking at you entirely. But not running, not bolting. 

"Good to see you." 

Polite statement radiating hollow, you could do better than that. Sitting down next to him, the squeak of protest from worn down wooden steps earning you a creaky twitch of his face plate. A faint chime of the bell from his hat. 

"go sleep." He tuts. Tone lacking the heeded warning it usually had. No walled in corridors anymore to chase you in, free reign surrounding you. 

Left fumbling on if that had been the reason you've barely seen him since the 'Plex. Sun having no answers, and leaving assurances in place of words you'd just needed to hear. Dancing around concerns with hurried careful statements, but never quick enough to turn away when a faint worried hum wobbled from his casting. 

If it's more freedom he'd wanted, that they'd both wanted, you'd be more than happy to oblige. More than happy to help if they'd just stopped reverting back to old habits. Shutting you out of whatever was happening. 

This was all still new, rubbed raw like skinned knees on asphalt. 

"Go charge." You settle on, getting much too comfortable much too quick. Sliding ever so slightly closer to him proves to be a mistake. 

Shifting away again, balancing himself half off the top step at this point, goosebumps of shame prickling along your neck. Face flush as you pull back again. 

"Sorry-.. I just- I miss you.”

Words crumbling out into the open air. Brisk cold breeze cupping your cheeks, as you hear another squeak. 

Much too sharp to emit from wood, but, there's no solace to be had if your fretting breaks the stairs. Quickly getting off the stairs, out of his space. The sprawl of cold ground trickling up your legs. 

Facing his direction upright, you catch him holding a throw blanket bundled in his lap. Little time to really question it, assuming it to be some kind of comfort. One he couldn't find with you.

Made sense, in some regard you suppose. Your visage is a direct reminder of the fever dream nightmare you'd all rescued each other from. 

Celestial bots gaze turned down away from you, pinprick pupils avoiding meeting yours at any cost. Desperate to reach out, you just can't help but open your mouth again. 

"I couldn't sleep, doesn't look like you could either. I—" 

The folded bundle on their lap, rustling and shrilling sharp. Their widened eyes meeting yours, clutching the displeased creature tighter. 

It's only now, you notice a striped bushy tail peeking out from the blanket. Wiggling and swishing in dis-contempt. 

In the end, little feisty claws are no match for his clutches. A raccoon, bolts from under the covers and out into the open. Blurry haze of fur illuminated by startled, scattered fireflies. 

Moon's stance no longer hunch, sprawling themselves out lengthwise along the steps in woeful defeat. Arms outstretched and flopped against the ground. 

That solves one problem. 

You know the answer. You know. You ask anyway.

"...You were trying to bring that inside?" You ask anyway, deadpan. Fighting the wobble of amusement threatening to upturn your mouth to a grin. 

"it's small, and alone." He mumbles. "likes peach slices." 

That. Explains why the peaches kept going missing, and Sun's insistence the fruit just goes bad super duper quick. Yet straight up refused to quit buying heaps of peaches. Glazed fruit decorated in smoothies and pies just didn't justify the madness. 

"It's got friends nearby," Leaning against the worn banister. "I'm sure of it." 

Moon hums. An off centred acknowledgement it hears you, but. He's for sure going to keep trying to bring raccoons into the house. 

No dice convincing him otherwise. Roaming around the yard, settling to lay down on a patch of overgrown grass. Your gaze trailing sleepily between the stars. 

"Is that what you've been doing out here, all this time?" 

"sometimes."  

Slinking down the rest of the stairs, crawling over to you to nestled up against your side in an impressive but entirely unnecessary half roll to get to you. 

Face plate pressed flat to the ground, theatrically slumping himself down. Like his whole body had participated in a sigh. 

A click somewhere in his upper casting, chiming alongside you as you'd giggled. 

Something gauges you'd been a front seat witness to an impatient attempt to whisk the creature inside. Too bad you'd missed the other attempts then, or joined in supplying the demand for treats. 

Moon stays pressed down in the grass, dawned in a t-shirt and hastily sown together pants. Often radiating lukewarm or cold, you've never known the temperature to bother him much. 

"We should name it," Names spurring immediately to mind, but you hadn't swaddled it like a baby. Didn't think that gave you any real leeway. "The raccoon." You add. 

Casually slipping the throw blanket out from under you, tossing it over the two of you. Moon making no attempt to move away. 

Muffled voice eventually piping up from the twilight grass blades. "peaches.” 

[camembri]

oda was listening to the part of work song when hozier goes "when my time comes around / lay me gently in the cold dark earth / no grave to hold my body down / I'll crawl home to her" when he wrote the zs death pact actually. who else is doing it like them huh. who else has such devotion written into the very fibres of their beings, to not only their captain but each other and the rest of their crew.

[pushing500]

The outpost at Arwell is paying off, damn!! If only Mechi had someone to help him install that bionic eye, he'd love it. In the meantime, he'll just enjoy the book.

How cute, he likes the present <3

In other news, our prisoner was miraculously cured of his paralytic abasia, much to Mechi's frustration, I'm sure. Also, it turns out he's Man in Black XiaoLiang's granddad. Small world!

Fortunately, the shuttle came to collect him before he got too annoying. Mechi is probably very glad to be rid of the company.

No, thank you, we don't wanna risk being exposed to that much flesh again if we can help it! Sorry, you're on your own.

First | Next | Previous

[lavellyne]

can the "finding your art style" discussion finally end because it does nothing but feeds people's insecurity and obsession with finding something... that they already have?

i've been there, trust me. growing up i was obsessed with "finding" my own art style. but you know what it only did? it made me almost quit drawing altogether on many occasions when in reality i already had one.

an art style is how you interpret everything around you through the act of creation. it's how you draw right now. it's how you place the lines. your line-weight. it's how you draw the eyes. it's how you shade.

an art style grows with you. it grows with your improvement. of course you can explore and bump it up by testing bits and pieces from art you love. but you don't add those bits to nothing. you add to what you already have, to the art style you already have. it's how you draw.

[thresholdbb]

Do we think Seven can feel all of her face and body?

The Borg know when things happen in the collective and can arguably feel them, but when an individual is severed from the Borg, that expansive collective consciousness is violently narrowed down to a pinpoint. We know Seven has pretty good proprioception because she agrees that her shoulder hurts when the EMH finds that her biradial clamp is off by 0.3 microns. Because of this, she arguably has a very good understanding of how things in her body feel. That said, she doesn't really complain about physical pains, and we really only see her struggle when things are emotionally difficult.

Since she had been in the collective since she was 6, she wouldn't necessarily know that certain sensations are not normal. If there were any issues that happened as a result of her assimilation, she wouldn't necessarily know they are unusual after she was severed because that's what she has always known.

So back to my original question: can she feel all of her face? Looking at the placement of her facial implants, they are both on the trigeminal nerve. The cheekbone implant is right around the root of the nerve, and the eyebrow piece sits right over another branch. Trigeminal neuralgia is crazy painful, but she could have trigeminal neuropathy and think it's completely normal because she doesn't have a typical baseline to compare it to. I imagine the Borg implants must interrupt some nerve functioning to ensure that the drones move as they are supposed to, and the nano probes would repair any damage that would affect their functioning. But the Borg would consider physical discomfort irrelevant, so relatively minor issues like neuralgia, pins and needles, or any other unusual sensations would not be considered an issue.

[hanzajesthanza]

also i realize i'm saying all these noble and beautiful things about the channel from the purest depths of my heart. but actually i'm also just doing this because i fucking love the witcher books and it pisses me off that people don't know about them that much in english and i can only go for so long (seven years) with people not knowing that there are books. or that the witcher is from the 90s. or polish.

[writeshite]

i don't know if you are writing rn but do you remember that request of bucky and his boyfriend promising in his apartment then only bucky comes back after hydra? what if bucky eventually finds him so they can talk?

Previous: One | Two |

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they said, for you, it made you angrier. Angrier at the world for taking away your happiness. Angrier at yourself for not sneaking off and following Bucky during the war. Angrier at Bucky for dying. You couldn't bare the look of the empty apartment after everything; every inch of the place had memories of you and Bucky, even the fucking table corner where Bucky had slammed into when chasing you around the area. 

You'd bumped into the Ancient One entirely by accident, and as one does when seeing actual magic for the first time, you'd thought you were black-out drunk and promptly nearly shat yourself when one of the things she'd been fighting came lunging at you. You're not sure what prompted her to take pity on you, but it was enough. The war had taken everything from you; what else did you have to lose?

“Are you crazy? Nepal?!” June had exclaimed, following you around your apartment as you packed what little you’d decided to take with you. 

“I can’t stay here, June…not without Bucky,” you told her.

"So your solution is to go someplace that you won't even tell me about, might I add, in the middle of the fucking mountains?! You've run away from problems before, but this," June pinched the bridge of her nose, "this takes the cake."

You paused, turning to June, and asked, “What do you want me to do, huh? Get hitched to some gal and have a miserable marriage thinking about my ex?!” Your voice raised to a yell before lowering, breath shaky, “I can’t stay here, June; I can’t pretend to be normal…I’m not like you or Pa; I never fit in here, remember?” You hadn’t ever spoken about the elephant in the room; June had always been better at shoving herself in a box; she’d been quiet about it all, a girlfriend here and there when Pa wasn’t looking, you’d tried, but you’d always been louder, less subtle. You smiled at her as best as you could, “See ya around, June.”

Kamar Taj was cold. Far from everything you knew, it was perfect. You hardly left Kamar Taj; even now, you kept the walls of the sanctum and ignored the world outside.

"I know you can hear me," Stephen's voice interrupts your thoughts; meditating in the courtyard had been a good idea in hindsight, but then he’d had rushed past from who knows where and spotted you.

"I can't hear you, Stephen."

"Yes, you can,” Stephen poked you, “you just replied to my statement."

You swat Stephen away with a flick of magic and return to your meditation, “Unless the world is ending, fuck off.”

"Remember how I saved your life a few months back, and you said you owe big time?" Stephen muses, and you groan in equal parts annoyance and defeat.

“Fine, what do you want?”

Bucky fucking hates the cold. If he could, he’d be back home, suffering through his nightmares under a warm blanket on the floor, but not today. Today, he gets to suffer in the middle of Greenland because Sam won at rock paper scissors, and A.I.M.’s new quantum processors need a colder climate to operate efficiently. All that doesn’t explain why Sam called Stephen Strange, but Bucky’s not going to complain as long as it gets him out of the cold quicker. A.I.M.’s base of operations was north of Summit Camp and buried into the ground; from the sky, it looked like part of the ice sheet and was barely visible even from where Bucky was scoping from.

The air turns warm for a moment as the familiar sound of magic tearing open a portal can be heard behind Bucky; the super soldier sighs in relief at the sound of Strange´s arrival, “Took you long enough, Strange,” Bucky turns to greet the sorcerer, and is instead left wide-eyed at the sight of you. You’ve hardly aged a day, dressed just as meticulously as Strange - an attire of pale colors to match the frozen landscape, ink-stained beautifully like a pattern across your skin, dog tags around your neck, and so many other details Bucky could hardly capture as his mind tried to process that you were alive. You blink a few times, expression soft and painful; your own eyes drift over him, widening at the sight of his metal arm, ‘What happened to you?’ he can see the question in your gaze. 

“Doll?” Bucky’s voice is strangled, weak; he’s almost prepared for all of this to be some sleep-deprived hallucination.

“Buck?” You say simultaneously, reaching out but drawing back when the sensors pick up movement from the A.I.M. facility. You turn your attention to the mission. Bucky stammers something, and you reply, “After the mission.” You tell him, and he holds you to that, catching you before you can run off; he drags you to Nuuk, and you spend a few minutes before your first proper conversation in years in uncertain silence. 

“You…uh…you look nice.” Bucky compliments.

“So do you, I…how are you here, Bucky? I thought,” you stammer, “They told me you died. You fell off a train.”

Bucky wrings his hands, his jaw clenched; the words don’t come easy to him. He runs through sentence after sentence in his mind, eyes darting from you to his hands; what does he say? ‘I was tortured for years and had my mind fucked up so bad I can barely remember my name some days’ or ‘I became a tool for HYDRA, I killed people’? Neither one was an easy answer. How could he even begin to explain his time with HYDRA?

“I…I wasn’t in a good place,” he finally replies, “I can barely remember some of it; I don’t think I want to.” Bucky doesn’t elaborate; he doubts he could without breaking down. “What about you?”

“Me? Oh well, I thought a change of scenery would be nice,” You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, "playing hero now, huh?"

Bucky shrugged, "Suppose so, you some wizard now?"

"Yeah, and a pretty good one too." You laugh, feeling a little lighter; you briefly glance at his arm and think of reaching out to touch it; the smooth metal looks inviting, "Nice arm."

Bucky snorted, half baffled by the comment and unsure how to reply without self-deprecation, "Thanks?"

"Take the compliment, Buck," you teased, "you still owe me a home in the woods and a trip around the world, remember?" He doesn't, but he'll take your word for it and build you whatever you want, go anywhere, just as long as it's with you.

[tanczysz-z-demonem]

"Pisałem twoje imię markerem na moich klatkach..."

~kukon

[0rchidm4ntis]

I was born something/What could I be?

[mantisgodsdomain]

Anyways, to those who have been wondering what we've been doing during our impromptu Tumblr Vacation or whatever we're calling it, we've been trying to find a playthrough of Baldur's Gate 3 that is made by someone who doesn't annoy the shit out of us, and also tormenting Karlach Cliffgate (as you do)