#scrib: thread

[scryillo]

still active on tumblr !! but a bsky for posterity’s sake

[orangetintedglasses]

( starts sketching thigh holster content, loses steam

is a liar who found a reference for how she wanted the legs to go and now it's everyone's problem-- )

[sibillascribbles08]

Not a ton today but i'm approaching an action scene and I'd rather do it tomorrow when I've got a clearer head

Hoping I can finish chapter four tomorrow though because oh boy !

Current word count: 13,253

[he11fireclubtm]

[[Ive noticed an influx of negativity lately and I want to counter that so I just wanna give some more love out :

@humanchewtoy - legit an amazing Stiles. Like for real. I love seeing all the amazing things that Lizard comes up with or seeing the shenanigans that stiles gets up to.

@filmdesque - NOAH~~ I love you, Jon, and Mike to bits and pieces. Our threads and your friendship means so so much to me. I’m so lucky to have you around.

@hellfireheroes - so many amazing muses here. So many wonderful ideas. And their Eddie? To fucking die for. Scribs is such a sweetheart

@bamsidsuperbitch - Top tier Sidney right here. And Splen is such a sweetie. The full package right here if you’re looking for great content.

@leadxxr - literally the embodiment of Dwight. I’m so amazed by their content and I would fight for them any day. I can’t get enough of Dwight or Max.

@breakcut - Atti is seriously amazing at every muse they attempt and I’m in love with their portrayal of Feng fr fr. Steve is smitten. I’m so thankful for them ❤️

@ferociium - WINTER~ love love love your ghostie even if I’m way too shy to approach a lot of the time. Loving all the ghostfield content and what you bring to the table

@dead-blondie - Tatum at her finest! Love all the shenanigans and fun ideas. Plus getting to talk to you about ST? So much fun!

@snnynatural - LUMI, you know I forever love Sonny in all fonts, seriously. You and Sonny are rays of sunshine that I adore

@greedaeye - CEEJAY, my child. Love you to the moon and back. And all of your bbys. You still wow me on a daily basis with all the lovely content you come up with

@malka-lisitsa - Queen Katherine herself. Literally Katherine Pierce and fierce leader of the digidestined. Thank you for always having my back and continuing to slay ~

[buckybarnestales]

Anchors in the Fathoms

Bucky could have never fathomed that what should have been a dull and ordinary day turning into a dangerous if not pleasant surprise. After a long and tiring afternoon of searching for a part-time job in the city, one that wouldn’t put him at risk of surveillance, he had been returning back to his cheap one bedroom apartment in the lower-east end when he’d been floored by reality of someone following him on a flashy motorcycle. After a short chase back to his hide-out, he was met by an even greater bewilderment when his pursuer turned out to be a very attractive young woman, late 20s, and the most dazzling brown eyes he’d ever seen.

Said a dazzling woman was now inside of the squalor he called home, walking around his living room and taking in the few decorations he’d adorned along the walls while he watched her from his seated position on the mattress of his bed. He felt incredibly small and self-conscious of himself and his state of living. The beautiful and mysterious woman, stood across the room, dressed in form-fitting leather black pants and a purple-trimmed leather jacket. High-heeled biker boots clicked with loud thumps across his floor, and a rich silky mane of mahogany flowed down her hair. The intoxicating scent of lavender wafted across the room, he could almost taste it.

He knew he should be wary of this woman who followed him home and who he briefly fought to an impasse. She could be a Hydra sleeper embedded in Romania who had been lucky to spot him, or she could work for SHIELD and was buying time for the cavalry to get here and lock him up. Despite the numerous dangers that could come from her presence, there was something that told him she was familiar and trustworthy. Funny, he never even got her name.

“So, uh…Miss?” He began, unsure of himself as he continued to watch her, her attention now locked on a notebook he had left on the counter with scribbed notes. He forgot to hide that.

Being within his virile-menacing proximity altered every instinct of resistance she harbored; remaining impassive in her vigilance, Selina knew the faltering ground between her and Bucky Barnes was dangerous for her to brazenly tread, it was a damn risk worth taking.

Ignoring the stink of urban decay that maddeningly wavered through his derelict apartment- a high-point for effective isolation; she glimpsed fleetingly at the scribble handwritten in Russian, her jeweled coffee fixed all intensity of her depths at the list of names and scraps of paper clippings he taped on the marked pages. It was a manifest infused with guilt-ridden, reinspected memories that ensued demons-apparitions of his torturous past to bleed into the ink. A wasteland of abstract misery that he discarded on the pages.

Her latest infiltration stint in East-Germany only gave her a location where HYDRA rogue operative was stationed on deceptive grounds, all she obtained against the diffusion of false hope after slashing a knife through a mattress, was a tattered pocketbook with a name scribbled on the cover: Zemo.

With the veriest fraction of her lithe fingers, Selina caressed the paragraphs, trying to weave together his enigma threads and find a more vivid understanding of what unspeakable measures of horrific pain those ruthless HYDRA vipers did to her Winter Soldier. She felt the glacial heat of his steel-aquamarine eyes penetrating through her, searing into her bones with laser intensity, evoking ardent desires to seize his full-bow shapely lips, to steal his deadened pulse and make him come alive against her wake of passion.

The grounds tension was equally unwavering between them. Raw ache echoed in shadow, as contrasts of streetlight piercing from newspaper coated windows gleamed over her alabaster skin. She needed to anchor him back with delicate tactics of coaxing, first was reigniting his memory of her, and rein up his unhinged-explosive aggression that was triggered akin to a powder-keg.

Closing the notebook in haphazard motion, she pivoted fluidly on her spiked heels with a sway of feline grace, mirroring his guarded stare, the extension of trust needed more distance. It was too damn obvious, Bucky was readjusting into a human element, trying to find some tenacity that didn’t involve slashing a blade or executing kill shots. This low-cut apartment was his asylum in solace-he was a stray dog. “Look, I know you’re having trouble with the whole memory game,” she whispered with smokiness edged in her rueful tone.“My aims of being here aren’t to gun you down, handsome…”

With a swift clutch of lethal precision, she quickly removed a 9mm Glock from her belt hostler and placed it visibly on the kitchen counter and stacked plates, fully disarming herself, as she watched his brows furrowing into a notch, coveying his distrust. “This isn’t a Romanian charity call, I’m here because some cruel bastard took someone very precious from me, and I won’t stop until he comes out of the shadows again.”

For a moment Bucky felt grateful at the distraction her words brought, but it was dashed immediately as his confusion resurfaced. After the incident in Washington almost a year ago, he’d been filled with nothing but questions. Few of them were answered when he visited that Smithsonian Captain America exhibit before leaving America on a cargo ship to Amsterdam. He knew he had a name and a past, James Buchanan Barnes, born in 1919 in Brooklyn, New York. It was a dot on a blank parchment that made up his mind. He could find no other dots connect to other than the one named Steve, but it was too dangerous to seek him out. Now this woman showed up, tracked him down with a curious purpose he couldn’t fathom. Not for the first time, he felt an inkling of stress at the not being able to remember.

“And you think I can help you find this person?” He asked, feeling a surprising pit of disappointment at the thought she had a significant other out there. It shouldn’t have felt strange but it did. Until months ago, he neither felt curiosity towards the attractive women, nor had he craved their company. Hydra had done more than suppress his memories, but also all impulses and drives connected to them such as love and lust. Until now, there wasn’t a single woman to catch his eye; that this one had told him that there had to be a reason. She seemed too familiar. “I haven’t even caught your name?”

The resonance of his graveled, husky undertone held stinging betrayal against his own heart, Selina feigned at the mild pang that imploded emptiness in her taut veins, the man-beast machine she loved was just a damned ghost in distorted reflection. His roguish and boyishly chiseled visage had devolved into a pudgy, disheveled vagrant; he no longer channeled the bestial vigor of an untamed wolf. He reeked of the slew of abated despondence and soul-encompassing regret, from her eye-level she alarmingly noticed a growth of flab under his stubbled, cleft chin, sagging over his Adam’s Apple. It was his strikingly glacial blue irises that were tellingly devoid of recognition.

Stowing back bone-deep calamity against HYDRA that steeped into a vise, despite she craved for the sweetness of vengeance, Selina wrinkled her nose in utter disgust, trying to figure out the reason why Siberia’s elite assassin had allowed that deformity against his stunningly masculine beauty possess his battle- conditioned body. Disturbed by the underlying changes, her coffee irises flared with a dangerous glint, alighting her hardcore spirit.“Sorry handsome,” she paused in a terse breath, suppressing a relenting stab of masked anguish. “…but I don’t give away my pretty name to a stranger…” she played out, sleekly, challenging his controlled measure of reserve.“The man I’m looking clearly doesn’t exist in here…”

A shrug came off of Bucky’s shoulders, both frustration and uncertainty pouring out of him in a constant flow that hinged on his patience. “Sorry to disappoint you, miss. Maybe he checked out before I moved in, or maybe he was never really here to begin with,” he said with a creeping hostility in his words. He knew he shouldn’t allow his emotions to get the better of him, but there was an underlying aggression in his body that ached to be let loose after months of inner-turmoil as he waged a constant war within himself. The things Hydra did to him might’ve been considered brain-washing, but the imbalances they triggered were already there after years of war. He wanted to let his anger out, but he feared the devastation it might cause.

It wasn’t until the cybernetic gears to his prosthetic arm began to audibly whirl that he realized he’d unconsciously balled his hand into a fist. Alarm setting in, Bucky discreetly shifted his gaze from the woman in the room, whose brown embers burned like hot-coals in his direction. She’d heard.

“You don’t have to hide that from me, handsome” Selina gritted, the iciness in her undertone surprisingly felt like cutting like razor’s edge. Molten steel fringed on her tongue as she leveled her dark eyes at the faded cranberry wall, measuringly. A pasty smear of dried plaster concealed holes that were caused by hammering force of his metallic knuckles, tortuously evident to his depth of threadbare restraint, to subdue the vicious impulses of the Winter Soldier.

A darkened scowl traced over his shapely-wide lips, as the sharp, broad planes of his rugged features set into a graven clench. She was aware of his bestial strength, the fuel that pumped in his veins and hard swells of rigid muscles as she keenly registered the voltaic shift of his chrome-alloy plates, responding intrusive tension, evoking murderous intent to possess his conscious-grappling back into an impassive stupor. The glacial heat in his steel-blue irises receded under the malignant shadow; he on the explosive verge of morphing back into the beast machine again, and she needed to tug at his reins. She wouldn’t surrender like a kitten pinned under a wolf’s paw.

A subtle verve of masculine ferocity impended when she caught the slightest heady whiff of sandalwood and frosted mint, the scent that arrested her pulse when she remembered clutching the material of his Kevlar tactical jacket, breathing in frigid air as she would splay her palm over hard paved muscle while his knuckles traced the supple nakedness of her skin. They were unstoppable to the equal caliber of high-octane steeped passion, dueling arsenal that welded hot rods of ecstasy in their veins. A feverish urgency pulsed through her as definite friction intensified to combust, drawing a wake of traitorous fire beneath her skin.“If you want to dance right there, that’s fine with me…” she imploringly challenged, with a deviant glint in her eyes. “I’ll even let you take the lead…”

And just like that, Bucky felt the last shred of patience inside of him snap in two, and before he could stop himself, he bolted across the room, in the woman’s direction, as if he were a force of nature. A hiss followed in his wake accompanied by the overturning of several pieces of furniture. The noisy ruckus was deafened by the whirring of his cybernetic limb springing into action as if it were a waking beast. His fist flew towards her direction, only to collide with the wall of his living room/bedroom. His fist went through it like a knife through butter, leaving nothing but a gaping black whole. Not missing a beat, he pulled out his arm and lunged for her again with a right-hook, only to feel her dodge his attack again, this time with a balletic grace as she backflipped steps away from him.

“I’ve had enough of your games, lady. They sent you after to me, didn’t they? You can tell them I’m not going back!” Bucky grunted as he quickly blocked a staggering judo kick to his right shoulder, and another meant for his pelvis.

Against the cacophony of metallic-alloy plates synched into a voltaic pulse from his surgically-cybertronic enhanced arm, arresting her heartbeat as the erratic resonance of dread amplified throughout the nondescript apartment in tumultuous force; Selina remained poise into a challenging stance, her alabaster features betrayed no cast of hesitance as she adapted to the vaporous reality besieging her.

Coldness penetrated her veins, the infestation of parasitic HYDRA was still possessing him as he enforced intimation with mechanical paces-nothing reserved. Moments between them were accelerating.All instincts stoked up, urging her to make the flight before his ruthless, unslackened grip viciously seized her throat-her dance partner wasn’t Bucky Barnes, he was pushed aside by Siberia’s beast machine-the Winter Soldier. She needed to destabilize him before a drop of blood hit the floor.

The rawness of his unhinged lethal aggression was electrifyingly unstoppable like a wake of a second-blinding thunderbolt clashing against her, as Selina reeled back to opposite position under his massive-intimating shadow. Bucky tensed with predatory readiness, his metallic hand brandished into a fist, capturing her reflection in glints of chrome. In a fluid motion, she braced herself defensively with effective feline poise, unshakeable like a drawn blade as she grounded with rigid footing. Her serrated chrome heels dug into the floorboards. Adrenaline surged through her veins, generating a feverish rush as she prepared to counterattack.

Composing a smooth breath, her dark coffee irises gazed at his unkempt wolfish mane flitted over his tensing shoulders, as Bucky gnashed his teeth, pulling the bow-shape of his lips into manically an animalistic sneer, morphing him into a rabid wolf. Selina recognized the inevitable, untampered visage of his feral power, the blinding ferocity that dangerously infused him with explosive-bestial momentum, drawing out a guttural roar, he stomped menacingly closer to the wall; the Winter Soldier was conditioned to rend and destroy without a vital pulse of tolerance-humanity to deter him.

“Listen to me, I’m not leashed up to those HYDRA bastards, handsome,” Selina gritted breathlessly in vehement interjection, swaying her head against the wall, as disheveled mahogany whorls slashed over the delicate curve of her clenching jaw, at the fraction of the second she evaded instinctively under his robotic arm that delivered a haymaker sweep with fluid -elegant reaction, as white fragments of plaster dusted her tangled strands.“No one owns me…”

She reared her head up, unmistakably catching a flash of heated scarlet within his slitten pupils as his steel-blues depths shockingly liquified into lucid ice against a ghostly cast of murderous intent. Seething in Russian, Bucky parted his lips, as loose brunette tresses hung over the chubbiness of his bewhiskered jaw, there was a subtle intrusion of fringed resistance as he lurched back, gazing at her with a jolt of perplexity grappling over him.

“Then how the hell do you know me, lady?!” Bucky grunted still fueled with aggression and hostility that kept him remained locked in a fighting stance. He didn’t like how much this woman seemed to know about him, especially given the fact he knew nothing about her. Trust might’ve been a privilege he was willing to grant in his older life when he was innocent and unbroken. Times had changed. Trust would now get him killed, locked up or worse; unmade all over again. He had lived a quiet and isolated life for the past few months in this crummy apartment. It wasn’t ideal nor lavish, but it gave him what he needed and that was safety and anonymity. He wasn’t about to let that be threatened.

“You show up out of the blue, knowing too much more than you should. Even if you’re not with em’,” he conceded with a vexed shrug watching her carefully as she remained locked in her own stance yet appeared more casual about it than he did. “You should know its not safe to be around me.” There was a double-edged meaning to those words he didn’t care to divulge, but the truth of the matter remained, anyone that got close to him was sure to receive a target on their backs, not just from his enemies but potentially himself as well. He was dangerous and unstable at his worse of times, and just plain unsociable at his best. Being cut-off from the world for the past number of decades tended to leave that effect.

Knowingly smirking with a kittenish glint while he furrowed his brows incredulously as his ultramarine blue eyes stared monotonously dumbfounded at her voluminous crimson lips deviously curving to match the piratic darkness of her coffee irises; Selina detected that her invasive allure distrubed him, deceptively with fluid balance, as she effortlessly crossed her stiletto heels at her ankles -the dangerous crux of element heat was growing increasingly feverish, as the sheer dynamic need to feel the cushioned softness of his full lips graze her lithe, pale throat was exhilarating to discard while she defied the modicum of his restraint.

Within the ambiance of obscurity, Selina was cunningly instrumental with caution at every deviation, only unmasking that she wanted him to see.“Funny I was just going to say the same thing about me, handsome…” she purred daringly with a trace of sultry enticement while attempting for dominance over him. “…and I never play nice.”

He felt an inexplicable urge to smirk at her coy response. Despite the aggression and hostility of the situation, Bucky couldn’t help but find the mystery woman to be witty and exhilarating. She was like an elusive cat that was daring him to give chase and for some reason he felt his anticipation soar at the thought. His caution, however, remained at the forefront of his thoughts and with it came a prickling of vexation that she appeared to be stubborn against his warnings and unwilling to divulge any information about herself. He knew she was trained, that much was clear, but she also appeared to be too much of a thrill-seeker that she continued to play this game with him. He needed to get her to leave, for both their sakes, and needed to disappear again.

“This isn’t a game, darlin’,” he felt a smidgen of satisfaction as he watched her eyebrows rise at his endearing term. Somehow it felt natural and like something the old Bucky would say to disarm a pretty girl. His stance grounded he tries circling her to get to match his movements, putting her with her back towards the living room. “Leave now while you can…”

“Why, don’t tell me you’re not in the mood to dance, soldier boy,” Selina nonchalantly snarked back with a devious pout, her velveted purr ghosted with a flavored smokiness of a decadent whiskey that seemed to seep into his veins in the barest instant of subtle recognition, giving him what had been an underlying of the versatile fierceness of her feline caliber. Her dark coffee irises tellingly flashed with a lethal contrast of beckon, in the intensifying moment she heard the metallic plates of his cybertronic arm rotate in unison under his red sleeve, she was blindingly quick in a balletic swift of reversed motion on her spiked heels, giving him a deft semblance of her flawless precision of elegance as they became mirrored on equal ground, daring their warring souls to retake a seize of volcanic dominance.

As she intently expected, Bucky drew in a breadth closer threateningly to the low-flat mattress, his predatory stance fearsomely shadowed over her lithesome form while he kept a fraction of distance for good measure.The heady masculine of sandalwood, vanilla, and frosted mint ghosted over her smirking lips, colliding with her wantoned senses as she met the iced blue embers of ultramarine, darkly radiating molten steel underneath tousled dark tresses.

The pulsing frisson in their aching veins was revamping feverishly; soon they would clash like explosive forces of carnal nature, him, powerful as thunder and her electrifying as lightning. It was a dueling crescendo she craved to embrace with him again. She needed one more brazen play of words to ignite the stoking fire within his deadened gaze. “Boy you sure know how to treat a girl, usually men don’t blow a chance with me, and I’m not ready to call it night yet, so do yourself a favor…” She viciously delivered a sucker punch into taut ridges of his thickly defined abdomen, stealing his raspy breath as her dainty hand fleetingly recoiled back before his metallic digits seized her wrist.“… and dance with me, красивый (handsome).”

His sharpened senses remained on alert as he watched her unravel in front of him from a coy and reserved kitten to a feisty and aggressive panther. What came next was a flurry of twirling kicks and jabs that astonished him at first before he regained control of his focus and began blocking them. His adrenaline spiking while an unnerving itch manifested at the back of his mind, urging him to scratch at an unseen memory, buried beneath layers of mud. As they fell into a balletic dance of violence across the kitchen and into the living room, he couldn’t suppress the overwhelming turmoil engulfing him, demanding he react offensively and not restrain himself.

“Khorosho! (Fine!)” he seethed, his blocking arms now being used as an offensive barrage until he catches her with a jab to the waist, winding her and allowing enough time to pull her into his arms. She reacted like a true feline, twisting her body around his as if it were made of clay until she wrapped her legs around his torso, and his head into a sleeper-hold.

With surges of raw energy arrowing through her, Selina kept herself straddled frontally against the heavy expanse of his torso as he unceremoniously staggered back in weighted paces against the viperous grip of her rear choke hold. A fierce embrace that wouldn’t slacken as he rumbled out a bestial cadence. Selina didn’t relent against her supple flesh met with hard iron bulk, her slender arms were twined around the width of his shoulders, fluidly anchoring the desperate momentum of her lithesome, curvaceous body as she blindingly arched her head back in a furious wake of throated snarl, gritting her teeth against the intrusive pain that became concussive through her veins-it was a breathtaking moment of dueled aggression, a hostile fever that couldn’t be doused.

Against the rigid swells of muscles crushing her with each brutal flex of his tanked, honing strength, Selina’s lithe fingers consciously traced over the throbbing pulse of his throat with a deft glide that smooth of edged blade as bladed chestnut strands caressed her knuckles, the destructive gravity of their feverish bodies was increasingly ardent -nothing could be underestimated between them as their fitted bodies melded together. The robotic assonance of his metallic arm deafened a mechanical whir against her ears, as she felt the cold alloy plates abrade her damp skin under denim, at the galvanic second she met the scrying ferocity of his vacant gaze under the askew of dark tresses, that hauntingly reminded her of black ice with slivery gleams of azure breaching the frigid surface. Right there in a heave of a breathless reaction, her thudding heartbeat was arrested by the quake of his resistance.

For a lean woman a good five inches shorter than himself, Bucky felt her forceful weight begin to bear down on him as she grunted and hissed like an unrelenting animal that had just caught her prey. His eyes were like burning sapphires from behind tussled dark locks, his lips parted into a viper-like sneer as he attempted to wring her off his torso, only to find that she was stuck to him like gum with no hope of peeling off. His mind was a riot of conflicting thoughts and impulses, but the one that screamed out most to him was his tactical voice urging him to not yield.

Objects, including a fruit bowl, tumbled off the counter as he attempted to find something to latch onto to gain effective slack. His corners of his vision began to darken to a slumbering black. He was close to being subdued. The thought invigorated him to burst through with a second wind. With a small roar bellowing from his mouth, Bucky throws his weight into the living room, feeling her body adjust on his own until they both fell tumbling onto the queen-sized bed. The grip around his neck loosened just enough for him to slip his massive cybernetic limb up, and he pressed his elbow against the smooth expanse of her neck. His weight pressed against hers, keeping her pinned below him, his foggy blue eyes glaring unrelentingly into her surprisingly coy iris’. “Yield.”

Her crimson lips quirked up devaintly, as she rasped back with a husky purr, heatedly against the broad expanse of his neck. “Now where’s the fun in that…” Given the tempo and neutralizing force resonated from his cybertronic arm wedged bruisingly against her graceful throat, hissing out an irate breath, Selina lost her seconds of intrinsic reaction of effective combat, the thickened bulk of his corded muscles sank precariously against her; the V shape of his slender hips fitted harshly against her voluptuous, hourglass curves, seizing her rampant pulse as rushes of infusing heat washed over her sleek flesh; every muscle of his body locked in reactive implosion as she remained braced underneath him, cascades of tousled mahogany flowed over the mattress as felt his arousal shockingly throbbing against her, evoking for instinstive surrender.

Arching the swells of her ample breasts against the planes of his chest, teasingly she relished the feeling of fury ignited passion edging between them; his eclipsing shadow darkened the contrast her pearlescent, exquisite features; arcing metallic elbow harder, gnashing his teeth Bucky snarled bitingly in Russian, holding gleams of smoky wickedness that alluringly mirrored the piercing torridity of his shadowed aqueous depths with a hint of menace.

Tilting his head down with a subtle motion of vehemence, Bucky’s brow was fractionally over hers with a phantom caress, amber glow of streetlight vanished his gusting breaths of cool peppermint flitted icily over the crimson swell of her slitting lips, as silence ensued around them.

For a moment, all was still as he felt himself spiraling into a crescendo of intoxicating allure. His steel-blue eyes shimmered like stormy waters washing over her. Warmth and fire surged through him, and he tried his best not to revel in the feeling of her lithesome body pressed beneath his own, nor how perfect they seemed to fit together. Bucky shivered and swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling the adrenaline in his body that was triggered by a spark of aggression now being fueled by something completely different. His face hovered over hers, wolfish strands of dark brunette hung like curtains from his disheveled mane, giving him the appearance of a feral creature.

“What are you…” He blinked suddenly in confusion, jostled by a familiarity that scratched at the back of his mind that called back to a memory he couldn’t comprehend. A rooftop, an extraction helicopter lingering close-by as two elite combatants wearing leather, battled with a balletic grace and ferocity that led to them winding up in this same position. He was distracted and enthralled feeling himself drift between two realities and the desirous siren who was looking up at him with a seductive smile. “Have we done this…before?” He whispered with a touch of awe and confusion. He could feel her cool minty breath close to his cheek, sending pleasant shivers down his body as his gaze flicked from her brown orbs, to the slit of her parted lips.

“You might say so,” Selina played it coy in her response, drawing out a pained moan roughly against the ruthless pressure of his metallic arm easing off her delicate throat, for a space of distance, cool air ghosted over bruising, feverish skin, a telltale resistance that brandished incredulously over his knife-edge and thickened features, as he panted out raggedly, furrowing his brows into a pinched notch, against the vertiginous waves roiling against his marred conscience—soul.

The naked heat of unshed tears gleamed in his owlish steel-aquamarine irises, as he breathed out achingly in hitching grunts, clenching his stubbled, pudgy jaw, his wide-bow lips went tremulously slack when inscrutability assailed. Power was there-a fierce and relenting hunger — an elemental, headlong force that couldn’t be evaded, only driven by ravenous need.

Being captive against the hard length of him, Selina felt the graven curves of his abdomen tightening with expansive flexes that involuntarily bulged over her black sweater. With a painstaking stroke of her palm gracing over his tensing nape, she languidly threaded her lithe fingers through his lengthy, dark wolfish tresses, savoring the virile softness of his unkempt mane as she effectively steadied him down to intimate submission with her.

Shuttering against the visceral awareness, with a smooth tilt of her hips, Selina arced into him with her last visage of restraint. For a soul-stealing moment, her shivery breath urged him nearer in hushed beckoning that was above a purring whisper.“Don’t fight it anymore, James, just take the moment with me…” she implored huskily, patent to the sirenic intent glinting in her dark eyes—she wanted more than physical distance, as unfeigned instincts betrayed her unshakeable poise. “Don’t be shy, handsome…”

He couldn’t explain the feeling that drew him to her. She was intrigue and mystique. Despite the darkness that she danced with, there was a guiding light about her that he yearned to follow. It gave him hope and excitement. As he listened to her coaxing words, there was a softness in her tone had a triggering reaction. A force so palpable, its power guided him slow and tentative until his lips finally covered her own. It was a moment of warmth surging through their melded bodies, passing between them as if they were two halves of a whole finally uniting. There was a stillness that lasted a moment, uncertainty in his unpracticed ministrations before he felt her reciprocating beneath his touch. Hesitation was abandoned instantly, and for the first time in many months, Bucky allowed his guard to drop.

Somewhere in the space of things, he had forgotten what it felt like to feel this connection—this passion. Her hands weren’t idle as they trailed a path up his shoulders, fingers threading through his wolfish locks. His body unconsciously grinding against hers, a stifling moan passing between dancing lips as the kiss deepened. Like a moth to the flame, he yearned for her heat—he yearned to feel burned in her enveloping embrace.

Closing her eyes against the fringe of rapturous desire that seared intensely through her veins, Selina indulgently moaned in breathless succession against the heady softness of his cushioned lips dizzyingly fusing against her yielding mouth in rhythmic, possessive slides —she felt the urges of his dormant hunger awakening strongly, and the melting demand of his thrusting, slanting mouth devouring her at breakneck pace, as wet flesh solidified deeper with enticing delight; it was imploding storm of relentless ardor.

With her fingers urgently kneading and yanking his lengthy strands to anchor him, a dark swath of tresses fell messily on her flushed brow, Selina felt utterly boneless and enraptured in the ardent dominance of his powerful embrace as the mattress dipped underneath their aligned, mirroring bodies; the world faded away as they emerged into another plane of existence.

Shifting under swells of dense muscle, a voltaic shiver razed Selina’s pulse when his bucked teeth dragged a tantalizing wake as he sensuously recaptured swell of her lip, urging her to duel fluidly with his bruisingly sensual need of their melding lips as his instinctive, headier growl resonated through her against each tactile throb of his mouth shaping feverishly over her swollen lips, grappling her into throes of passion as the tenor of the warring kiss altered into a ravenous, breathless infusion of delving thirst to their abandoned senses.

No words were spoken as they allowed their actions to guide them. Bucky was triggered in a way he hadn’t felt in so long, a part of him he thought lost was awakened like a dimmed candle now flaring with renewed life. The passion scorching his veins made his skin flush with heat. The woman beneath him was like a soft blanket he wanted to envelop himself in, her scent of lavender was intoxicating he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in its alluring fog. His lips suckled on her bottom lip as he felt the kiss becoming more intense—no longer tender but full of want and desire. Slowly their tongues began to dance and their fingers began to caress and explore each other’s arms and waists.

When the need for air became too much, they parted and inhaled each other’s scent. Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest while the swell of his pants began to throb with pressure. How long had it been since he’d been this intimate with a woman? How long since he felt this good, this…human?

Their rapid hearts were thudding in breathless unison, a consonance of intimacy that suffused their infusing bodies, as they became mirrored with each flex and spasm of muscle against heated resilience. The groundless measure of their dueling exchange became irresistible, demanding and rip-roaring with brutal intensity. The passion their bodies orchestrated was a wave of need, Bucky’s fusing lips were surging deeper as the devouring pressure increased, as he ravingly kissed her like fire spearing into ice; every pulse of his swollen mouth was urging her to submit while the heat was erupting in their rigid veins.

Each conscious move engaged memory into sensual convergence —to surrender. Her lips were urgingly anchoring him back to an Elysium, as each contrast of heat was aglow over their slick flesh. Selina jolted in a voiceless gasp, as his robotic hand left a tracery of metallic coldness over her delicate throat -she missed his phantom touch chasing her heartbeat.

He had begun trailing a heated path down the slope of her elegant neck when he had sensed her sudden reaction to the cold touch of his metallic digits. It was like a bucket of water being tossed over his flaming thoughts and harsh memories resurfaced of the Siberian Beast-Machine. He felt hesitant in the emerging distraction, until her coaxing lips urged him back into their passionate spell. He recaptured her lips with a more bold and heated purpose, drinking in a moan that passed from her mouth and into his. He hummed, tasting the strawberry lip-gloss and shuddering as her cool breath caressed his cheeks, reminding him of an arctic wind.

The small observation triggered more latent memories, the earliest of which occurred only 10 years ago in 2005 when for the first time, the Winter Soldier defied his orders and failed his mission. His mission…The woman.

“Selina…” Her name escaped his lips in a panting breath as all seemed to fall into place.

“Don’t think of anything else, krasivyy (handsome),” Selina hitched out a feverish, murmuring breath, her eyelids lifted as the depth of her stare glinted against scones of dimly light, decadent coffee merged into an elemental bronze; her lithe thumb deftly glided over the dimple of his thickened, bristled chin and the angular planes of his face, each trace of delicate promise was stabilizing him as his wintry grayish-aquamarine irises were dilated, stripped from lethal intensity that he reflected.

It was a desiring moment of eternity-an embrace of a connective love in the crossfires of their hellish pasts. The masquerade was over. She was lost against the taut hardness molding his body, the gentleness buried deep under steel- the fluid, virile heat that he wielded against raw hunger. Selina wanted to love him again in this lifetime and anchor out of the unstable gravity of the hell road those HYDRA serpents forced him to trudge, blindingly. “I know what you need, and it’s not hiding in this damn place…” she gritted back a terse breath, staring unblinkingly into his teary eyes. “The man I lost to HYDRA’s damn mind games was you…”

Despite her coaxing words of reassurance, Bucky couldn’t help but feel the heated passion of the moment fade away and he was suddenly climbing up off the bed—off of her. He moved quickly and distractedly as if he were stricken with a spell of nausea. The past flashed like a projecting film in his mind, replaying each memory as if they were someone else’s life he was observing. A spectacle without the emotions necessary to make them feel real. Time had been cruel to him and saw fit to force those feelings—good and bad—onto him eventually. He dreaded when they occurred for the past never offered him much comfort beyond the bittersweet reality that at least Steve Rogers was still alive.

With this woman…Selina, he remarkably felt no bitter emotions nor haunting grief to weigh him down. She had been a bright light—a beacon—he couldn’t help but reach out for in a moment of doubt. “S-Selina?” He spoke quietly, almost to himself as he now stood listlessly in front of the window, his back to her. “I-I remember you…We did…"dance” before. The Odessa operation…"

The strained tenor of his growly voice was rough, as spectral casts of remorse gleamed nakedly in his dismal steel-blue irises shadowed by lengthy tresses, Bucky shifted fractionally in subtle effort to keep distance between them while grim tension infused him. In the fluid grace of her lithesome body, Selina eased off the mattress, and with a cautious measure to the genuine intentness of her approach, she came at his side in an expanse of a heartbeat, the vibrant warmth of her body urging him to remain grounded there when his fists warningly clenched with quaking restraint, barely controlled and apparent to his gnashing teeth-he was trying to fight against the unsustainable gravity forcing him to a level of submission as he gripped the window’s paint scraped ledge, revealing only the barest trek of stray tears maundering down the serrated edges of his pugdy cheeks.

As she listened to him stifle back a throated gnarl, realizing that he was a captive of infinite anguish; Selina closed her eyes and whispered against the smokiness of her undertone, a beckoning resonance to make his brooding demeanor recede. “You know that damn radio silence is getting old pretty quick, handsome…"She paused in a tight breath, as her crimson kiss-swollen lips curved ruefully against a transparent smile. "I never had much use for good memories to fall back on, being a stray wasn’t living, just well surviving if that’s how to put it…” Her dainty hand ghosted a delicate flex of heat over his metallic knuckles, anchoring him out of the listless void he was edging further into. “You had good memories before those bastards made you into what they wanted you to be…I know you’re going to say you’re not worth the risk of this new dance, but handsome you’re damn worth it…”

The warm and assuredness of her ivory voice was like the sun over melting ice. Bucky wanted nothing more than to let himself be enveloped in her heated embrace that poured life into his empty shell. But the questions that lingered were like a magnet drawing him away from the warm-spell and he could only gaze out yonder from the window. The masses of ordinary people walking outside felt so far and so detached, he knew in his bones he could never be one of them again. Like Selina mentioned, they were both outcasts that could no longer blend into a peaceful mundane existence where the specters of war and chaos could not haunt them. They were damaged. Broken. Remnants of innocent people, unmade and exploited by evil hands that turned them into instruments of devastation.

“What I remember of that life…” He began in a distant voice, cerulean orbs glistening as they gazed out unblinkingly. “Its like a dream. Vivid and real one moment, but then too far to remember in the next. I wish I remember what it felt like to feel that…lightness. To not feel the burden of these demons I carry.” He finally allowed himself to blink once his sight became too blurred to see. Warm droplets flowed down his scruffy cheeks, trailing a path down until they dripped off his chin. He wiped them off the back of his hand, uncomfortable with feeling so vulnerable. “You say I’m worth that feeling again, Selina… Do you even know the things I’ve done? How many have suffered because of me?” He asked tiredly, unwilling to meet her stare.

As the murmurous, underlying rasp of his graveled timbre infused through her veins, Selina watched a defeated etch of remorse flitting over the sharp and hardened angles of his shadowed, boyishly chiseled features, Selina allowed the palpable tension between them pulse, fueling their stares to clash against a heartbeat. Selina always like she was on the hairbreadth of darkness, balancing on the edge that was a withering tightrope crossed between two split existences -survival and freedom.

The fringe of desolation and mephitic carnage that reeked in the alleys and backdrops of Gotham, made her drown in blood-she played many thieving pantomimes, and embraced the lethal masquerade of being the Cat-a dark silhouette that faded in the crimson rain. “You think I don’t know what’s like to dance with demons,” she breathed a stifling breath, her dark eyes held a vacant cast as she gazed out of the foggy mist wreathing against the grubby window pane. “I survived each damn hell-storm thrown at me by ruining a lot of good people…I didn’t have static in my brain telling me to pull the trigger, I’m a thief, sometimes I robbed families of their most precious treasures…” her silken undertone fell into a tensed whisper.

“Then I guess we’re both sinners that deserve to be where we are now. Lost with no purpose other than to hide in the shadows and survive to see the next day,” Bucky mused darkly, a bitter edge in his once somber tone that carried the weight of his guilt he had before been unwilling to confront. A damn had ruptured in his once stoic and reserved façade and the flood came pouring out. His stance shifted as he turned side-ways to look over at Selina, dry tears remained on his cheeks, glistening like crystals in the sunlight outdoors. Looking at her now was like looking at her in a whole new light. The soft glow of her rosy cheeks and the slight tussle of her once kept mahogany locks were the only indicator of their vigorous dance.

But what captivated him most was the fierce intensity of her coffee brown orbs that revealed the depth of her own sorrows. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s really a life worth living. Don’t you?” he asked, a vulnerability in his tone unveiled, a desperation that he’d been unwilling to reveal.

Watching the power of Bucky’s impassive, guarded stance grow rigid as tempered steel being clutched in shadows, Selina remained unperturbed with the knifing intensity of his grayish-aquamarine irises-a wolf’s gaze. His stubbled, heavy-set jaw grew taut as the sharpened edged clench in a reactive pulse to the inescapable remorse that seemingly gouged him deeply.

There was no effective answer for tuning down the soul-deafening volume of his screeching demons that regained possessive of his frayed conscious. Their gazes alight held into a silent beckoning, as Selina instinctively shifted her lissome form until the cool alloy of his cybertronic arm grazed her back. “People like us, don’t get happy ever afters when it comes to normalcy, but it doesn’t mean that we can’t have some fun dancing with the royal stiffs, James…” she implored, deviously, while her delicate fingers smoothed a tactile caress over his knuckles.

“Is that why you’re here? You want a dance partner to share the spoils with?” Bucky asked, his tone more bemused than bitter at this point with a soft smile on his boyish features. Though he held no illusions that solitude was the best course of action for his anonymity and safety, it did get dull after a while. He’d been unwilling to admit to himself that there was a part of him that missed the adrenaline that came with a new mission to undertake. He didn’t miss the bloodshed however, nor feeling a life expire beneath the crushing pressure of his indomitable fist…

‘Help… my wife… help my wife. Sergeant Barnes?’

A lance pierced his heart as perhaps the most devastating memory of his crimes resurfaced in his thoughts once again. His eyes closed, his expression deteriorating into a painful grimace that he fought to control. “That might not go as well as you think,” he tells Selina warily, opening his eyes to reveal a glimmer of distrust—towards himself. He was a wildcard who could hurt anyone and anything without knowing it.

Listening to the derisive seethe emit from his sneering lips, as he dipped his head down lengthy tresses curtained his stiffened jaw, it was damn evident that he was fighting against the undertow of repentant guilt in fruition; unflinchingly Selina reeled back with a casual measure of feline poise, giving him an extent of distance as the space between them solidified with unwarranted tension. Her coffee irises misted with tears, achingly, as he fisted his hand erratically at his side, restraining another bestial-murderous urge to deliver an unforgiving attack. 'What the hell did those snakes do to you, handsome…’ She glanced back passively at the notebook on the counter-his outlet to anchor him out of the damning labyrinth. “You don’t have to stay here and be alone…” she whispered tentatively, while he pinched his eyes shut. “Look, I know you’re in pain, James, but let me fight this with you, I’m not losing you again to HYDRA.”

Inwardly, Bucky could help but feel warm at her words of support and devotion. Of all the atrocities and dark things to have come from his tenure as The Winter Soldier, he never expected something good to have come from it. He was nothing more than a tool, a beast-machine manufactured to do nothing other than execute and obey. That somewhere along the line, a woman as gorgeous as an ethereal moonlight against a dark blue sky, had crossed paths with him and found him to be something—someone—worth chasing. Worth fighting for. Unexpected the warmth in his chest spread throughout his body, igniting his features into a soft smile.

“You’re an amazing woman, Miss Kyle, to consider chasing down a guy like me,” his smile curled into a flirtatious smirk as he noted how her eyebrows arched in surprise at the compliment. Somewhere deep down, the kid who charmed some of the most gorgeous dames in Brooklyn, took the wheel and drove him towards the brunette with one methodical step at a time. The distant and increasing tension was palpable as was an increasing heat in their bones. Though a shroud of uncertainty hung over him as he considered her offer, he could repress the resurgent need to reach out and touch her once more.

“But you’re right…” He swallowed a lump of emotion in his throat as he stood now in front of her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off of her body as he gazed down and into her swirling brown depths. “I really don’t want to be alone—not anymore. All this time it feels like I’ve been scratching at a wall I can’t climb, but for some reason with you here…” He trails off, uncertain of his own point and where he was headed as he became lost in her stare. “Nothing seems impossible…kotenok (kitten).” It was then that his thumb and index finger of his metallic digits reached up to caress the edge of her jaw—warm and coaxing.

Feeling the vestigial pulse of his metallic palm curve under the edge of her tilting jaw, evoked welling of painful tears inside her to slip over her cheeks, leaving a glistening line that vanished against the deft, unerring stroke of his thumb. The grievous iciness of her desire to feel his touch was embedded deep into her veins, that she had ached for Bucky Barnes-her shadow wolf.

There was always a high cost of emotions-true love, Selina knew. It was a fringe of eternity that reunited them for a moment to breathe; embracing a chance freedom out of the encompassing shadows, but their rebellious-tortured souls still adhered to the cold darkness, morphing them into stray apparitions that existed with a false reflection that was split down the middle with a stripe of blood. One variation of resistance would make the ground underneath them unstable. Right now, the silver gleams of moonlight held them for a joined heartbeat, against the traction of anguish that drove into their souls. Could they overcome this dividing rift and fully engage another dance without the masks? Closing her eyes, Selina bowed her head down, letting his sensual caress anchor her.

Everything flowed like a natural spring as Bucky guided her fully into the solid embrace of his arms and tilted her chin upwards. His heart ached to see the trail of emotion pouring out of her glistening brown eyes, so full of longing and grief, it was a look he was too familiar with. An overwhelming urge to dry those tears and ensure they’d never again spill due to sorrow. It was both a powerful and ridiculous feeling, but it gave him life and purpose—something needed more than his next breath. The longing in his heart increased ten-fold as his gaze flicked from the enchanting spell of her eyes, to the parted slit of ruby-bladed lips. The distance between them decreased as they each shuttered their eyes to a blissful darkness and allowed warmth to encompass them as their lips touched.

It wasn’t chaste nor full of the vigorous hunger that came with their initial make-out session on his bed. But there was an underlying desperation, an unspoken promise being passed between their breaths. Bucky held her close, his metal arm snuggly holding the small of her back while his hand made of flesh cupped the softness of her cheek. For a moment all was still as the world vanished around them, and Bucky decided there was nothing he wanted more than for this unexpected reunion to last as long as it could. Selina felt so perfect—so right in his arms, and he wasn’t about to let her go.

A slow flush of ardent heat suffused her as the steely flex of his torso hardened against the cool leather of her jacket; in the rapt wake of naked hunger, Selina could barely contain a breathless moan as her seized lips felt the exquisite contrast of velvety softness encasing the masculine firmness of his slanting mouth, a torturous intensity that edged against her—this indulging need was drawn out of them, a clashing duel of hearts that fought within a firestorm of challenging emotions. She felt dangerously enthralled as the full bow of his tracing lips archly increased into a deeper, heady thrust, pulsing and driving into an intoxicating ravish against the equal convergence of ebbing pain.

A guttural snarl grew increasingly ravenous, as the controlled strength of his braced flesh and metallic hands kneading the graceful lines of her delectable curves invested his bone-deep promise, as she became pure, fluid heat against his possessive fingers-an elemental fusion that imploded the depth of their kiss into a tempestuous ecstasy. Blindingly, her arms twined over the width of his broad shoulders, his tresses whisked her knuckles as he angled his sliding lips hotly to recapture her swollen, fevered mouth at the second their locking bodies fused until it felt impossible to separate as they both clung to the lifting steadiness of a chaste kiss-a ghost of reluctant heat. Reality struck as Bucky intimately laid the heaviness of his bristled cheek against hers, their eyes met with recognition anew glinting in liquid embers of bronze and glacial azure, unwaveringly against the streak of moonlight.

Once they parted for breath, they said nothing but allowed themselves to revel in the glow of their embrace and proximity. For a long and blissful moment, Bucky had forgotten about the demons haunting him at the back of his thoughts. For the first time in what felt like an entire life-time, he felt a bloom of happiness inside himself, as if something he thought lost had finally been returned to him in the most unexpected way. Placing a soft kiss against Selina’s temple he inhales the relaxing scent of her floral shampoo and asks with a low timbre. “Will you…stay tonight? It’s uh, getting late and gray out there.” He said, gesturing to the stormy clouds gathering outside.

“Wouldn’t want you to have to drive that fancy bike of yours out in that storm,” he offered with a cunning smile, looking down at her.

As hope grew alight in the cast of his sultry grayish-aquamarine eyes, Selina fell captive by the glacial intensity, a knife edge of passion that searingly pierced under the swath of his disheveled chestnut tresses, contrasting against the boyish curve tugging at his full lips. For an ambivalent moment, she unbearably glanced back at the doorway, feeling her steps edging closer to once again stray away. Only coldness and the emptiness of rain would grace her lips, not the supple virile heat that melted against her mouth, the icy taste of sensual mint that she relished. She felt his love-the undying promise that steadied the crescendo of her restless heart. When his metallic hand reached for her, openly, she took it without the obstruction of hesitance, but the need to finally be embraced by the depths of a true home. Giving him a radiant flash of a kittenish smile, her fingers curled over his knuckles, as she whispered, surely. “I’ll stay with you…”

Her acceptance brought life and youth to Bucky’s brightened smile. Months of loneliness and confusion had led him through a tunnel of sorrow with no light at the end of it. Despite the dangers and risks that lay ahead for both of them, Bucky was sure of only thing; they stood a better chance of succeeding if they were together. The past had molded them into hollowed shells with only dim sparks to fuel them. Those sparks had now become bright and powerful as the sun, and Bucky never felt as warm and strong as he did now as he guided Selina back into his apartment, allowing the door to close behind her. Tomorrow they would share a new beginning. Tonight the ghosts of the past wouldn’t haunt them.

Perhaps they never would again.

Completed: February, 17th, 2018

[morendodifame]

matteo hummed softly against quin's lips, taking the opportunity to thread his fingers through the man's hair. he pouted when the other pulled back, then nodded enthusiastically, " I definitely do. go get the water started and I'll grab us some towels. " he smiled back at his partner, then slipped out of the bed. he made his way out into the hallway to grab them some towels from the cupboard, and walked back into his room to check his phone quickly.

he quickly started a shopping list, making a note of picking up curtains for tonight and allowed his gaze to drift around his room, looking for anything else that he needed to consider. matteo's eyes fell on a small drawing in the corner of the room, lips curving into a faint smile. he'd drawn stick figures, one of him, one of kieran, labelled as such, and then, hidden behind his bin, was a small bear, the name " chauncey " scribbed above it. matteo frowned, he didn't remember any bear he had called chauncey, of all names, but decided not to dwell on it. he made his way back into the bathroom and grinned, " I love this view. "

quin was quick to shake his head , " you don't have to apologize , really . " he looked back at matteo , offering a gentle smile as he leaned in to press a kiss against his lips , " happy to be here with you . " he didn't understand some of the tension when it came to being here but maybe it wasn't for quin to understand . " shower with me ? "

[punkcherries]

also plushie hissi redesign bcus i dont much care for the one we have

[lostcybertronian]

3 + 16 with Darkstache 😌

I didn't do 3. I couldn't fit it in. But I do like how this turned out.

Tags: @tiny-yan-an @darkstache-iplier @cookieface678 @bing-iplier @storm337 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @pixelenchanter @itsjustkyss @darkiplurrr @demon-dark-666 @moonysmayhem @xpouii @projectwkm @sororia04s @purple-anxiety-blog @rabbitsartcorner @tried-my-best @endangered-cryptid @swag-droid @skatle-skootle-demon-noodle

Prompt 3/16: “Your pulse is weak.” / “Would it be okay if I checked your pulse?”

In. Out. Breaths he didn’t need left him with the crackle of soft frost, drifting into the still air to hang with the dust and rot.

This wasn’t the Manor, but he lay on the floor regardless; limbs twisted at those unnatural angles they still seemed to remember, despite everything. This wasn’t the Manor, but his room seemed to model it; the slightly sour, earthy stench of decay permeated air heavy with pitch black motes of dust. Sound echoed in here and grated on the ear, but Dark didn’t make much, nor did he feel the need to listen to his thoughts echo back to him, distorted beyond all intelligibility.

“Darkie.” Wilford appeared suddenly, a sudden invasion of sound and color that hurt Dark’s eyes and made him wince. He didn’t dare look at him. It was too painful. The ceiling was much safer.

After a pause, Wilford got down on the floor next to him, sprawling across the cold nothing. But he didn’t try to touch Dark, nor did he ask to; sometimes Dark needed not to be touched, and he understood that. “Doing okay? Haven’t seen you breathe in a while.”

Another pause. Then, when Dark didn’t answer or bother to shift his dead-eyed stare, “Can I check your pulse?”

There it was. That fool, so utterly convinced that if Dark breathed and walked around his heart might beat. That this might mean something for him and the bodies piled at his feet.

Dark rolled his eyes, but nonetheless thrust out his wrist for Wilford to take, ever-gentle even as Dark’s gray leached into his skin.

He pressed his lips to the brittle skin above the artery briefly before placing two fingers there and waiting.

Of course he would find nothing, and of course he did, but not a flicker crossed his face. He must have been disappointed; it meant Dark was the exception, not the rule, and his friends were still long gone.

Then, Wilford grinned. “Still dead as a doornail, I see,” he remarked, threading their fingers together and clasping Dark’s hand tight. “But that’s okay. You be as dead as you need to be.”

Finally, finally, Dark looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot; spidery black veins crawled over dingy whites and disappeared into an iris void. He heaved a sigh that left him with the crackle of soft frost, but otherwise said nothing.

That was fine; Wilford didn’t have anywhere to be anytime soon.

[bradenthompson]

The MG Zaku ii Experience, Part 1

Idk what else im gonna call this, thought It'd be good content regardless, y'know. Catalog my first attempt at what I'm calling my REAL gunpla build. Decals, weathering, topcoat, panel lining (not doing any scribbing or whatever the word is, don't trust my skills yet).

Step 0: O What a Box

I started doing gunpla on the suggestion of some discord friends and was instantly drawn to the Zaku silhouette. Mostly because it unlocked a core memory*

*SD Gundam toy from when I was like 5 that im 99% sure was also a Zaku ii

Even when I do attempt panel lining, I like to straight build the kit first, mostly because a) it's fun and b) I like to have the whole thing in front of me. Helps with decision making.

That said, inner frame:

Already a handsome lad. No pre-molded mechanics like I am to believe newer MG kits have, but there's enough stability and secondary joint motions to make me happy. Also love the dimension including the cockpit has.

(As an aside, I'm so green when it comes to Gundam lore I was heretofore under the impression that the robots were like transformers, ie had autonomy and minds of their own, and the human characters were tagging along. This is in fact NOT the case, and piloting a gundam is tantamount to operating a tank. You guys can keep editing the wikis I'm comfy over here in Wow Cool Robot land)

When the inner frame was finished (I've learned to embrace nub marks) I debated a metallic topcoat. Then I decided not to, since I'm not doing a frame-exposed build or anything wild. At the end of it all I may spot-paint the joints, still

Had a lot of fun just posing the inner frame, so just imagine how lame I'm gonna get when he's closer to being done. Will update the thread later tonight probably

[scriibble-fics]

Scribs. Pal.

There's a reread of EA happening on the Bought Meltdown thread on discord and I was wondering, nay hoping, I could convince you to upload more chapters to Ao3 so that I can re-comment my every thought and emotion.

I know it's a ball-ache BUT go and just do it?

I will repay you in endless support but also relentless abuse, which I know you love.

I await your response.

Relyingonoldships.

The fact that you signed your name. ☠️☠️☠️

Doing it nowwwww YOU'RE WELCOME WHERE IS MY RELENTLESS ABUSE.

[scryillo]

alright that’s a little bit of backlog out of the way

[orangetintedglasses]

( you think I won't put his hair up this is what he looks like in Discord land right now--

edit: I FOUND THE ORIGINAL SKETCHES I DID-- )

[theesteemedladydebourgh]

3 and 15 if you've not done them before 💕💕

favorite line/scene you wrote this year

ah, okay this is so hard since i wrote 300k since this summer (lol)and i'm going to try to make it easier on myself by picking a few.

from Good Old Fashioned Love Letters, i love this scene at the very end:

“You’re going to miss me.” His words are simple and they’re surprising enough that she lifts her head, meeting his eyes. They’re steady and soft. “That’s what you’ve been trying to say, isn’t it?”

Lily swallows, eyes suddenly burning. “I—“

He places his fingers gently over her mouth, stopping her words, then leans forward and kisses her cheek, her forehead, her eyes, much as she had done in that rental car the night of Petunia’s party. “You love me,” he says. “You’re going to miss me." A lingering kiss on her temple. "You know I’m coming back.”

Lily sucks in an unsteady breath and kisses his fingers. “I do,” she says.

because it shows how far they've come in their antagonism and miscommunication that James can read her so easily, and that Lily wants him to stay.

from When We Lost One Another, the scene where she hugs Sirius after a year apart, despite everything that's happened, was so fun and poignant to write, because the whole theme of the fic is how people can make so many mistakes in love, but in the face of war or the end, loving the people who are important to you is the only thing that matters.

also this scene, because of how much they care (i'm also realizing i have a bit of a common thread with these scenes...)

“—I’d wake up in the middle of the night in a dead panic, sure that something had happened to you,” James continued. He shook his head, letting out a choked laugh that didn’t have an ounce of humor in it. “I’d pace and go absolutely mental and Sirius would have to stop me from trying to track you down or—something. And the worst part was I had no way of knowing. I had no idea if you were alive, or okay or if I’d ever see you again. I’d reach for you in bed at night and it would just hit me all over again.”

Lily couldn’t breathe, her cheek pressed against the sheet.

James looked at her directly, eyes pained. “So yes, I worry about you. I worry about you every time you walk out that door, and every time you come back I nearly break, because I’m so damn sure that one of these days you won’t.”

The silence between grew, two sets of breaths, two pairs of hands lying on the sheets. Lily reached out and gently slipped hers into his. She squeezed. “I will come back,” she said. His damn, stupid, all-consuming faith. Her, Icarus, falling for the sun. “I promise.”

and finally (after i've really puffed myself up, i know), this scene from I Want It to Be Us in the End made me tear up for no particular reason except they're young and it's fate, isn't it?

It's a regular day in school. They’re sixteen years old.

James Potter is being an arse with his friends, chuckling and loudly going on about the latest amusement in their teenage lives. His lack of concern for volume means the entire classroom is getting the play-by-play of Sirius Black’s ill-fated trip down to the pond. God, sometimes she can’t stand him.

James drops his bag on the floor by his desk and smirks at her. “Alright, Evans?” he asks.

Lily rolls her eyes. “Shove off, Potter,” she says, returning her gaze to her notes and she hears him laugh.

It’s stupid, but the sound of it stays with her, and against her will she glances back over at him a few minutes later. His head is bowed over his desk, dusty sunlight shining through the dark strands. He’s doodling something—she seriously doubts it’s the assignment—his other hand tapping against the top of the desk. He’s…nice to look at. Lovely, even.

Suddenly, Lily knows she’s going to remember this scene for the rest of her life. She can’t say why, because it’s so mundane and surely she’s seen him look just like this a thousand times, but…

But she knows she will.

His hair falls over his brow, one elbow braced against the desk, pen scribbling on paper. He’s sixteen and stupid and she likes it far more than she should.

She’s going to remember this.

something you learned this year

that writing can be a balm to the soul, and that people in the world can be lovely.

Send me an end of year ask from this list! 🥳

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 42

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Your captor loses patience.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, brief but intense torture

AO3

It was the beginning of the fourth day when your captor spoke with you again. The Alp had been delivering your meals and exchanging your buckets lately, so you’ve been without conversation and another human presence for a full day.

His appearance was not comforting. He was unshaven with hollow bags around his eyes, his lips chapped and his expression thin. He looked as if he hadn’t slept.

Good, you thought with no amount of sympathy. I hope you’re sleeping on a bed of nails.

He dragged the folding chair in front of the bars and sat down, staring at his hands for a moment before speaking. When he did, the words were heavy and drawn.

“My name… is Helmut Zemo.”

You watched him carefully. Learning the name of your captor wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Why reveal it now?

“I am formally an officer of the Sokovian Armed Forces. I was there, when the Ultron army attacked my country, and I was called upon to defend it. I did so with pride and determination.” He glanced down, voice flat as if he was recounting a report. “I lived in Novi Grad with my wife and son. It wasn’t safe for them, so I took them to stay with my father. It should have been safe.”

You digested what he said; it made sense and his accent did sound Sokovian now that you thought about it. But you couldn’t figure out why he was telling this all to you now, so you decided not to speak.

“My son was excited. He could see the Iron Man from the car window. I told my wife, ‘Don’t worry. They’re fighting in the city. We’re miles from harm.’ When the dust cleared, and the screaming stopped, it took me two days until I found their bodies. My father… still holding my wife and son in his arms. And the Avengers?”

He shook his head, emotions creeping back into his voice.

“They went home.”

A hollow pit of dread grew in your chest.

“The irony of it is, I was a great believer of the Avengers, once. I always wished to see them, especially the Iron Man, and fighting alongside them should have been an honor. Instead, my dreams turned to nightmares and my hopes to ash.”

He met your eye and the rage in them was so palpable you drew back a fraction. It was the gaze of someone who had nothing left to lose and would stop at nothing for revenge.

“I knew I couldn’t kill them. More powerful men than me have tried. I have been seeking the solution for years. An empire toppled by its enemies can rise again. But one which crumbles from within? That’s dead. Forever.”

You fought to suppress the chill that shot up your spine. It didn’t work.

“But how to do it? What weapon could I wield against the Avengers that would achieve such a goal? I turned to HYDRA for answers. I explored their old labs, the ones that were left untouched. There are many with evidence of their demonic experiments. And there was one in particular that caught my eye…”

Zemo leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees as he peered at you.

“Do you know what secrets it held within it? A large stone archway. Ancient. Powered by a piece of the Tesseract itself. It could create portals to other realms. Or at least, that was its purpose. I had no intention of walking through something so untested. HYDRA’s idealism is more realized than its creations. But… I was able to summon a demon. I bound it to me. And it had a very, very interesting tale to tell about another demon in this world… along with the human he protected.”

His smirk was thin.

“I’m sure you can guess who the demon was referring to.”

The Alp that Bucky had banished… had ended up in this lunatic’s hands. The odds had to have been astronomical, and either this man was lucky or you had the shittiest luck in existence.

As if he knew your thoughts, his eyes brightened with dark amusement.

“It was as if the universe was answering my prayer, and the opportunity to end the Avengers was within my grasp.”

Zemo rose to his feet, adjusted his brown coat, and looked you in the eye as he added:

“Who better to kill a Stark than a demon who has done it before?” He clicked his tongue. “Captain America’s own childhood friend.”

You jumped to your feet, prepared to scream every obscenity you knew at him, but then Zemo snapped his fingers. Black smoke poofed next to you and a pair of claws grabbed you by the shoulders.

Your shout was choked off as the Alp teleported you out of the cell. Even the short distance was enough to disorient you, sulfur cloying in your nostrils as you stumbled and gagged.

“I did warn you,” Zemo said, the regret there surprisingly sincere. “Your cooperation will be given. How painful it will be is your choice.”

You were still coughing, unable to respond, and the demon dragged you beside its master as you left the room for the first time in days.

The hallways were made of cold stone, much like your cell, with bulbs spacing the ceiling every few feet. There was nothing to be heard except scuffling footsteps and ragged breathes as you tried to break out of the demon’s hold around your neck. You might as well have been trying to fight with a statue all the good it did you. The Alp was very strong despite its jutting bones.

The room where your journey ended was considerably large and cylindrical in shape. You glanced around in confusion, and it took you a minute to realize you were in some sort of silo. Metal catwalks spanned overhead, tied to them were strings of bulbs, but the thing that drew your eye were the glyphs. Covering the walls, the ceiling, and there was even a large, elaborate circle carved into the floor made out of chalk. It looked like an especially evil children’s game.

Your struggles increased when Zemo pointed toward your destination and the demon obeyed. Directly in the circle was a table with wrist and ankle restraints built into the metal.

Every primal instinct in your body screamed that this was a bad place, but the demon dragged you onto the table and fastened the shackles around your limbs without difficulty.

“Don’t do this!”

You didn’t exactly know what he was planning, but you desperately didn’t want to find out.

Once the demon stepped out of the circle, Zemo bent down, and you had to turn your head to see what he was doing. He had a piece of chalk and scribbed in the last piece of the circle.

You wanted to know what it meant, but when Zemo approached a lectern a few feet away from the table, you grew still. It was covered with black cloth, and what he lifted from the surface froze your heart. A dagger, curved and constructed of ink black metal, flashed sinisterly in the light. Glyphs were carved into the handle and blade, leaving a cold wash of fear across your skin.

“This blade is called an athame. It’s necessary to the process of creating and binding demons.” Zemo drew closer, studying the blade as he slowly turned it, appraising it with quiet reverence. “It’s a sort of demon-bane. No doubt you are feeling that affect right now. The part of you tied to a demon will respond very strongly to this blade. But don’t worry. The human part of you will not be harmed beyond a physical wound.”

He was right—just staring at the blade filled your stomach with a sick churning, and you flinched when he used the blade to rip open the shoulder seam of your jacket and shirt. You tried not to whimper, heart racing as your chest tightened in panic. He lowered the blade toward the unchanged, faded mark on your shoulder.

You could have sworn the faint lines of the pentagram turned red as the edge drew closer. Once the flat of the blade touched your skin, you couldn’t watch anything at all. You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but scream as cold agony ripped through your body.

The blade was removed from your skin long enough for you to take a breath, and then it was applied again, sending you into another ripple of agony. You thought Zemo might have been talking to you, telling you this was a last resort to draw in Bucky short of killing you, but you were already dying. How could your body tolerate so much pain and still survive? How could your mind continue to function and not break as the agony lit up your nerves like a power grid?

And then, something changed. Through the electric pain that was so intense you thought you would catch fire, there was a shift. Small at first, like a leak that had sprung in a dam, and then all at once it released, flooding your body with warmth, a balm against the pain.

It felt so wonderful you actually laughed, throat raw from the screaming so the sound came out broken, but it was unmistakably a laugh.

Zemo pulled the blade away, but you ignored him. All of your thoughts were turned to the golden thread in your mind, no longer cold and dead, but alive and thrumming with… with… confusion, and then worry, and finally…

Rage.

Your smile died. The emotions you were feeling weren’t your own.

“That’s enough for now,” came Zemo’s soft voice. He seemed pleased. “Your cooperation is appreciated.”

“Nnn…” You struggled to speak, finding your control over your body was sluggish and distance. “No…”

His retreating footsteps were your only answer, leaving you tied to the table where you were helplessly bound.

You squeezed your eyes shut as tears leaked from the corners. You should have fought harder. Should have resisted instead of letting that crack form within you.

Because of your carelessness… Bucky was awake.

And he was furious.

Next Chapter

[kagrenacs]

Dreaming...Fish Pond. Skipping stone.

“Like this?”

“No, curl your arm more, that’s it.”

[[MORE]]

With a flick of the wrist Nall released the smooth, grey stone. It skipped across the glassy surface of the fish pond two times, before falling to the murky depths below.

“It skipped twice this time! I bet you can’t do better!” The child grinned.

Sil smirked. “Oh yeah? Watch this.”

He flung the stone in his hand across the pond, hitting the surface three times before plunging. The Gourami Ide that resided in the pond scattered at the disturbance.

It was a sunny day in Ald Sotha, the warm rays of the sun beating down, though not unbearably. The children of the minor house were out playing in fields of Gold Kanet and ponds of fish.

“How did you do that?” Nall asked, mouth wide.

“I’ll show you again...”

Dreaming...Pottery Wheel. Laughter.

“What is that?” She laughed

Sil looked offended. “It’s clearly a guar!”

“More like a pile of Kagouti dung.”

“Children, hush.” Their grandmother said, her weathered hands shaping a lump of clay into a simple bowl. “These are important skills to know. Your father may teach you about politics, magic and history, but I can teach you the real useful things. How to make pots to store spices, the best ways to skin a fish, how to stitch up a hole. He forgets that there’s a life outside House business.” She glanced over to Sil’s deformed creation. “We’ll work on it.”

Dreaming...Torchbugs. Overturned jar.

The night was cool and the familiar chirp of crickets could be heard through the otherwise silent air.

Sil walked in, clutching a jar of glowing torchbugs.

“You’re sure this will keep the monsters away?” Nall asked, huddled under a pile of blankets.

“Absolutely. You see these torchbugs? They’re magic torchbugs.” He said.

“Are not.”

“Are too! I know more about magic than you do, trust me they’re magic torchbugs. And everybody knows magic torchbugs keep away the monsters under the bed. The monsters are scared of the light you see, so as long as you have this jar beside your bed they won’t bother you anymore.” He gently placed the jar on the nightstand beside her bed. A faint glow illuminated the room, chasing away shadows.

“Thank you Sil.” Nall said, relaxing a bit.

He smiled as he turned to leave. “Goodnight Nall.”

Dreaming...open window. Sunlight through glass.

“Theuda dear, will you pass me the needle and thread?”

“Of course mother.”

Nall sat with her grandmother, and mother, the afternoon was sunny, a perfect day to play outside with her cousins... had her mother not insist she worked on her studies.

She idly watched a spider slowly crawl across the sill of the open window.

“Nall, don’t get distracted.” She scolded, pulling a needle through a swatch of fabric.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the dull book.

It was not even a second later before she sprung up and turned to her mother again. “Is Sil coming home today?”

“Tomorrow.” Her mother corrected. “The road to Mournhold is long, and he must do his duties as arcane councilor to our Hortator.”

She let out a puff of frustration and rested her head on the table, watching the way the sun danced through the glass of the windowsill.

Dreaming...Deceased Bird. Handkerchief.

“Chirpy, beloved friend, cherished member of House Sotha.” Sil recited, the recently deceased bird swaddled in a handkerchief as his younger cousins encircled him.

“Gusuron na d’lain, comfort is given to the family grieving at the time.” He recited, gently lowering the bird to a makeshift ash pit. “Beloved of Chirpy, step forwards.

“Devahrokad, ash, Return to the ash you were born of.”

Udok and Serlyn stepped forward, towards the tiny body. Flames washed over the bird until nothing remained but ash.

“Walk through the Waiting Door and join the ancestors.” Sil finished.

Without a word Nall teary eyed, placed a bouquet of Gold Kanet on the pile of ash.

“I hope he’s happy with Grandata.” She whispered.

“I’m sure he is.” Sil said, pulling her in an embrace.

Dreaming...Scrib Jelly. A rainy day.

Nall sat by the window, a half eaten piece of toast coated with Scrib Jelly sat beside her. Rain pattered against the window sill, tiny droplets chasing trails down the glass.

“I’m bored!” She yelled to no one in particular. “I want to play outside!”

“You’ll catch a cold!” Her father smiled. “Besides there’s plenty to do inside.”

“Like what?”

“Well you could paint, you could read a book, you could play a board game with one of your cousins.”

“I don’t want to play with them. I’m mad at Sallaemu.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah he said I smelt worse than muck on a Guar.”

“What about Sil?”

“Hmm, I guess. He’s always busy though.”

“Well why don’t you go check and see.” Her father smiled kindly.

She walked into Sil’s room, not bothering to knock or announce her prescience, instead just flopping onto his bed with a groan.

“What is it Nall?” He asked, nose deep in a book at his desk.

“I’m bored!” She complained.

Sil turned to face her. “Do you want to see something cool?”

She raised her head. “What?”

Mechanical legs creaking, he got up and sat himself next to her on the bed. His hands were cupped and a faint squeaking came from them.

“Close your eyes.” He instructed. “Now hold your hands out. Ok, open your eyes.”

She obeyed and looked down at her hands. Within them rested a tiny mechanical mouse. It’s little wire legs squirmed in her grasp and it’s metal ears perked up.

“What is it?” She asked in wonder.

“I made it, it’s a creature made of clockwork.” He said, proudly. “You can keep that one, I’m planning on making more.”

Dreaming. Glowing Embers. Wool Blanket.

She sat curled before the fireplace in the main living space. It’s embers crackling in the dimming light. A wool blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold.

Her mother, two cups of tea in hands, sat down beside her, warming herself by the fire.

“Thank you.” Nall said, taking the Canis Root tea and leaning on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m tired.” She murmured.

“You can rest my little scrib.” Her mother said soothingly, stroking her hair until she drifted off.

Dreaming... One netch. Two netch.

“One netch, Two netch, purple netch, blue netch...” Her aunt sung to baby Mileitho.

He was named after his grandfather and it was easy to guess why, the resemblance was strong. Especially in the eyes, the same intelligent eyes her grandfather once had could be seen in both Mileitho and her brother.

Sil extended a finger to the child, who happily clenched his chubby little hand around it. Sil smiled, watching the baby look around with wide eyes.

“Do you want to hold him?” Her aunt asked with a smile. Nall eagerly nodded.

“Sit down and I’ll pass you the baby, make sure to support his head.”

The swaddled infant was placed in her arms, and she watched his face with wonder.

“He’s so small!” She remarked.

“You were that small once.” Sil pointed out. “You were uglier though.”

“That’s mean!” Nall said, sticking out her tongue and scrunching up her nose.

A cheerful giggle erupted from the child, his face lighting up with glee at the face his cousin was making.

“Let me try.” Sil said, leaning over her and making a face at the baby. More laughter erupted, filling the room with giggles.

Dreaming... Knee abrasion. Lullaby.

“There you are.” Her father said, finishing the healing spell. The cut on her knee repaired itself, leaving only but the faintest mark.

With rough, but gentle hands her father wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t cry my dear, it’s all better now.”

She sniffed and nodded. “Thank you Ata.”

“You’re welcome my dear. Let’s get you tucked into bed, shall I sing the Brave Little Scrib for you?”

Dreaming...Familiar embrace. Moonlight.

“Sil?” She called out in the darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in.

“Mhmm?” He groaned sleepily.

“I had a nightmare and Ata isn’t back yet.”

He sighed and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Come here.” He said, pulling her into an embrace. “You can sleep in my bed, I’ll grab some pillows and sleep on the floor.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

Dreaming... Storm clouds. Wind.

Her father gazed out the window at the horizon, the storm was overhead, rain beating down on the small village. Wind whipping the trees and stripping them of leaves.

“Mehrunes Dagon must have sent this storm himself.” He muttered, turning back to his task of sealing off the windows.

“Is it bad?” She asked, taking a peak out of the window before he closed the shutters.

“I’m afraid so, yes. I want you and Sil to stay away from the windows. These winds are so bad they can pick up branches and break windows.

“Do you think we angered the gods?” Nall said, following her father as he moved around the house, doing various tasks in preparation for the worst.

He raised an eyebrow. “A curious question. But I doubt it. We made all the proper offerings to the Good Daedra, and prayed for protection against the bad. Sometimes these things just happen. Now pass me that screw.”

Dreaming... Burning tapestry, screaming.

Fire. That was all she saw, crawling up the wooden walls, enveloping the tapestry that hung over the mantle piece.

Sil lay unconscious beside her, his left arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Pieces of the crumbling house trapping them together.

Somewhere, someone screamed. Maybe it was her.

A horrible cracking sound, as if wood was splitting, came from above her, and the ceiling started to bulge inwards.

“Azura. Please let it be over soon.” She begged, tears steaming down her soot stained face. She closed her eyes and waited for the end.

[erotomaaniac-blog]

Best thing that’s happened to you involving rp?

Munday Storytime!

Tough question! I think the best thing that’s ever happened was getting Scribs to join in on the fun. We don’t actually write together, it would be a disaster if we did, most likely. But it has definitely helped us connect as siblings because we like to talk about our threads and headcanons and AUs and whatnot.