#so I have to leave the site and so much more.

[emptymasks]

They're done! I really want to try and make prints again as it's been years and I've never felt like I was very good at making whole posters. Dipping my toe back in with these silly chibis of each Papa with every Ghoul they've had. Perhaps they can also work as a guide for those wanting to learn all the characters? I added in a fair amount of little references with the Ghoul's poses so it'll be interesting to see what you guys figure out and notice!

The prints are on pre-order and won't ship out until November. I've put up 25 of each to start with but if they get low on stock I'll keep adding more until I have them printed and then it'll be a set amount in stock.

Also a reminder about the stickers of every Ghost Papa and Ghoul that I made earlier this year that are also available as customisable badges! Thank you so much to everyone who already bought them and got Etsy to list them as a 'bestseller' for a while. They're still up and in stock.

Characters featured on the prints and are also available on stickers and badges: Papa Emeritus I / Primo, Papa Emeritus II / Secondo, Papa Emerirus III / Terzo, Papa Emeritus IV / Cardinal Copia, Aether, Air, Alpha / Fire, Aurora, Chain / Water, Cirrus, Cowbell, Cumulus, Delta, Dewdrop / Sodo, Earth, Ifrit, Ivy, Lake, Mist, Mountain, Omega / Quintessence, Pebble, Phantom, Phil / Special Ghoul, Rain, Sunshine, Swiss, Zephy.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Four landscape drawings, one for each of Ghost's Papas and the Ghouls that were in the band with them while they were the lead singer. Each Papa is in the center with each of their ghouls standings to their sides. Every character has their name written above or below them, on brightly coloured backgrounds for each Papa's robe colour. Also, individual pixel art chibi drawings of 69 characters from various European musicals (listed above) that are available as stickers. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

For those who want to know what the little references in the prints are and don't want to guess, they're under the cut:

Omega can be a stompy boy when he's playing guitar, Alpha likes to throw up peace signs, Air is very found of the rock horns hand symbol, there's one close-up photo of Lake out there where you can clearly see his black sclera contacts and he's doing double 'horns' hand symbol, Mountain infamously takes his shoes off when playing the drums and leaves them on the stage at the site of his drumkit, Dewdrop likes to like.. most things including his guitar and his picks and sometimes his own hand, Pebble liked to hand out his drumsticks at the end of shows by dropkicking them into the crowd, Omega wore a flower tucked into his guitar strap during one show and Terzo constantly flirts with him more than other ghouls, Delta is suspected to be the ghoul that attempted to kick an audience member off stage when they climbed onstage and attempted to kiss Terzo, Zephyr was the only band member and only keyboardist who sat down while playing, the special ghoul played by Tobias wore a nametag 'Phil' in an interview, Swiss constantly is showing all his teethies with his smiles and always wiggling and moving around, Aether and Dewdrop often interact with Dew teasing/bothering Aether, Dew and Rain also often interact with Dew constantly reaching to grab his neck and attempt to kiss him, aaaand I think that's everything I intentionally included other than just generally tried to get the poses and expressions to match the personality we've seen from each ghoul.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Forever

@loose1cannon Thank you so much for your request! I was so hyped with the Ace one, but I need to apologise because my angsty wired brain might have made a poo-poo. I'm so sorry if it's too sad! 😫 I promise that the other part of your request will be happy, okay?? I hope you still enjoy it! ❤️

Source for pic

Forever

Word Count: 1270

Tags: fem!reader; angst, so much angst; NSFW; feelings; hurt; sorrow; grief; spoilers for what happens at Marineford; slightly NSFW

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: It has been a year since Marineford and you still can't cope with the loss.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil (guys if you only want to be tagged for specific characters, please send me a message! I don't want to bother you with excessive tagging!!🙏)

|Masterlist|

Rain poured down from the skies mirroring your inner turmoil exactly. The steady downpour cast a sort of halo over your figure. It felt like a shroud. The site was eerily quiet aside from the sounds of the heavy drops crashing against the stone graves. 

And for the thrumming of your heart. 

An unsteady rhythm beating out of sync, skipping a beat now and then, as if it were missing something to make it whole. And it was.

Ace.

One year had passed since he left you, or since you lost him. Honestly, it felt like the world itself had lost him, since he belonged to everyone. He was life itself. And without him, there was only demise. 

“Did you miss me, baby?” His tongue swiped against yours in desperation while his scalding hands roamed your clothed body. “I missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. All day, every day.”

Ace was always so eager for you that his touch singed your clothes, leaving small burn marks on the hem of your shirts or on your jeans. It used to piss you off. You’d scold him saying you didn’t have berries lying around just to buy new clothes and that he should be more careful. He laughed it off, or kissed it off, murmuring that he could buy or steal all the clothes you wanted, or better yet, you could just walk naked.

A sob clawed its way up your throat and scratched it, yearning to get out, needing to be free, but you clamped it down and pushed it back into your insides to fester and rot like all the other feelings of grief, sorrow and despair. 

No more crying. No more sadness. Ace wouldn’t want that. Ace loved your laugh.

“Laugh for me, Sunbeam!” You were both lying on his bed, sheets tangled on naked limbs and sweaty bodies, heaving from exhaustion and pleasure. 

“No. I’m mad at you.” But you weren’t, you were just downcast.

“It’s just a month. I’ll be back before you know it.”

No, no. You can’t go there, this one is too painful. If only you insisted, if only you had pushed further. He wouldn’t have gone after Blackbeard and he would still be here with you. 

Your knees hit the muddied floor with a soft thud as your hands clutched your chest. Slim fingers crumpled the drenched fabric as your breath left your lips in shallow, ragged heaves. “You weren’t supposed to leave me, Ace! Not like this!”

Your arms circled your torso in the only hug you allowed yourself these days: your own. It was nowhere near enough, but then again, there would never be another hug like Ace’s. 

It was crushing, bone-breaking, suffocating. It was home. 

“Ace!”

“I’m back, baby. Missed me, Sunbeam?” With a little jump you were straddling his lap, legs wrapped securely around his waist as his hands rested on your ass. Your mouth devoured him while your fingers tangled in his unkempt greasy hair. “I guess that’s a yes.” 

That smirk. Those freckles. The mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Gone. All gone. Buried in front of you, six feet under and beneath layers of cold, unforgiving dirt. 

Alongside your heart.

You tried to stifle your moans against the pillow, but he would have none of that. Stopping that sinful lapping of his tongue and removing his fingers from inside you, he lifted himself onto his knees and threw the pillow to the other side of the cabin. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Ace!” You whisper with a groan of frustration. You were just about to unravel when he left you feeling empty.

“Yes, sweetheart, just like that.” He aligned his leaking tip with your wet entrance and teased, pulling a little mewl from your lips. “But way louder.”

And you did what he told you to.

Was that the last time?

There’s no stopping the tears. You tried, you really did. But they were relentless. You have a million memories from the past and a million and one memories of Ace. You can’t afford to lose any of them.

"God, Ace, why?” The clenching in your chest expands and swells, taking up all the space inside. Filling you like a balloon and you feel ready to pop. How are you supposed to survive without him? One year was already hell, how can you survive another one?

And another one…

And another one…

“Smile, Sunbeam!”

“You’re shining, love!”

“Ah, that laugh right there, I could die a happy man.”

“You make me feel worthy.”

“I can’t live without you, baby.”

“Don’t ever leave me. I wouldn’t make it.”

You didn’t leave him. You kept your promise. He was the one who left. And now how are you supposed to move on with your life as if what made you live wasn’t ripped apart from you? How is a sunbeam supposed to shine when there is no reflective surface?

How can you be light, when all you feel is darkness?

“Ace… This was never supposed to be easy, but I didn’t expect it to break me…"

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you.”

“You’re my life.”

“My happy, little Sunbeam.”

“My love.”

Getting up on wobbly legs you took another two steps forward. Your tears mixed with the rain, salt and water. Pain and grief. Hurt and sorrow. Reaching with trembling, frail fingers, you grabbed the remnants of Ace’s hat. It was torn and tattered, the beads were barely hanging on, but it was still there.

A desperate wail left your lips as you fell back down, your legs no longer supporting the weight of your misery. This time, you let the sobs climb all the way out. And you cried as you had never cried before. Sobs, hiccups and ragged breaths mingled with the sound of approaching thunder.

But none of that compared to the tempest inside. It roared, raged and crashed, drowning you in its violence, dragging you to the pits of sorrow and darkness and you had no idea how to climb out of there anymore. Not without him. 

But then there was a sudden calmness. A break amidst the most violent of storms and then the echo of a whisper, soft and unmistakable. 

“You’ll be okay, Sunbeam.”

Ace’s voice. A gentle murmur in your soul. Perhaps a conjured thought your troubled mind had made up, but you’d take it.

You clutched his worn-out hat against your chest, wishing there was still a lingering scent of him anywhere, but he had disappeared so long ago. The rain slowed down and was now just a gentle pitter-patter against the leaves and the graves. 

A sunbeam peeked from behind a dark cloud and landed on your lap, near Ace’s hat and for the first time in a year you felt a sliver of hope on the horizon. You didn’t have Ace anymore, but your love for him would never fade or wane.

Your memories together would still be a part of you.

You would carry him inside you and remember him in those missing, uneven beats of your heart. 

Maybe… just maybe, that would be enough to carry you through. 

“I’ll be okay, love.” You forced a laugh. A bright smile like the ones he used to love. “For you, Ace. I’ll fight for you.”

The sunbeam on your lap flickered, faded behind a cloud and reappeared on Ace’s grave. Hope filled you and took back some of the space that grief and sorrow had claimed as territory. You’d learn to shine again, someday…

For him. 

For Ace.

For your love.

[luckyarchivist]

Ais helps Kuras in the clinic~

And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it for a while!! I was gonna write a fic but then I was like "Don't you have a Tumblr? Just make bullets lmao" so that's what I did and here's my HCs about Kuras and Ais in the clinic <3

Ais will just drop in on him sometimes. Like, no warning, Kuras will get back from picking up more laudanum or whatever he uses and Ais'll just be sitting on the counters, kicking his feet (but respectfully not letting his feet hit the lower cabinets).

He also never really gives a reason for being there. Always chalks his appearances up to boredom or loneliness. But then again, Kuras knows that for Ais, that's probably all the reason he needs.

They don't talk much while they're in the clinic together—just silently enjoy each other's company. Ais is also surprisingly good at organizing when he chooses to be, and Kuras has started putting away his supplies the same way Ais does subconsciously.

Ais does like to check in with Kuras to make sure people—and Monsters—haven't been harassing the clinic when he's not around. Kuras is perfectly capable of taking care of any problematic patients or unruly loiterers, but he appreciates the concern nonetheless.

When good patients visit the good doctor, Ais sometimes will play nurse: counting people's heartbeats, disinfecting minor wounds or injection sites, rewriting prescriptions so patients can actually read them. Regular patients recognize Ais, while occasional visitors have no idea who he is: both groups are a little scared of him, but also a little charmed by him.

When problems decide to show their faces, Ais acts as bodyguard instead. He certainly doesn't need an excuse to beat someone up, but he likes that helping out Kuras gives him one. Kuras always tells him to go easy on people, though, and Ais doesn't want to make more work for him, so he can't go all out unless someone's a real danger, instead of just a nuisance.

When Ais finishes beating somebody up, Kuras will take a moment before accepting another patient to inspect Ais for any injuries. Pressure is applied to cuts until the blood starts to coagulate. Kuras usually holds off on disinfecting or bandaging anything until Ais is about to take his leave, to make sure he doesn't immediately ruin Kuras's hard work.

On slow days, Ais will talk to Kuras in whatever language he's practicing or feeling like speaking. Kuras will converse back and, if he's feeling preachy (or like being a troll), correct Ais on his incorrect conjugations or lazy pronunciations. Ais keeps trying, but he has yet to find a language that he knows better than Kuras.

Just like his arrivals, there's no way to predict when Ais will leave. Sometimes he stays until the clinic closes; other times, he'll keep Kuras company for less than an hour. It all depends on his mood. For however long he chooses to hang around, Kuras tries to make sure Ais knows that he appreciates his presence.

And that's all my thoughts!! omg just rereading this checking for spelling mistakes i was like "i love them sm. i love them <3" in my head~

[callalillywrites]

Shooting His Shot Part 1

The original version of this story is something I've been wanting to expand for a while now. I finally got my chance, and it's become one of my most indulgent stories yet (I think). What was 1200 words is now over 8000 and split into two parts. Part 2 will be available in a few hours.

I had so much fun with this AU that I could easily persuaded to expand the universe a bit more. Ideas are already forming for a few of the other characters, but I'll hold off until I know others want to see them as well. It's not like I don't have plenty of other stories to work on anyway. 😊

The gif below is somewhat the look I was going for with Steve in this fic though he's given a suit jacket to wear. But yeah, this is it. One of my favorite looks of his btw.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Other notable characters: Bucky Barnes, Jake Jensen, Sam Wilson, Ari Levinson, Natasha Romanoff, Peter Parker, and honorably mentioned Curtis Everett

Word Count: 4350

Summary: Steve owns a steakhouse that you used to frequent before your ex came into the picture. Now, your ex is gone, and you're ready to head back to the one place you've always felt welcome and wanted. What neither you nor Steve count on is his staff, led by Bucky, launching a full-one assault effort to get you two together. It's time the two of you realize your feelings for one another.

Warnings: abusive ex (Reader's), pining, so much pining, fluff, two ridiculous idiots in love, a whole bunch of matchmakers

A/N: This is a completely self-indulgent story made like one of those cheesy rom-com which is my bread and butter at this point. It's proofread, but any mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

PART 2

*****

A few hours before dinnertime rush begins…

It might be his day off, but Steve’s made it such a habit that he can’t stop himself. After all, he keeps hoping that you’ll walk back in the door of his steakhouse one day. Even if it’s been six months since he’s last seen your smiling and pretty face.

To help the hours pass, Steve turns to their books and reviews them. He might as well work on payroll for the week and get the checks ready for the following week. While he’s at it, he might look at their orders and see how they’re sitting as well. Maybe he should venture into the kitchen soon and speak with Bucky about their upcoming inspection. Not that they weren’t ready, but one can never be caught unawares. Besides that, they pride themselves on having one of the cleanest kitchens in the county.

As if conjuring up his best friend, Bucky stands in the doorway with one of their famous lunch specials.

“You’ve been at it long enough, punk. Take a break and eat something.”

Without waiting for an answer, Bucky steps into the room and sets the plate down on Steve’s desk, careless of the few neat piles Steve’s created that morning.

Steve stares at the plate for a few seconds before his stomach makes it known how empty it is. He probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast after the workout he pushed himself through that morning.

While Steve takes a bite of food, Bucky sinks into one of the other chairs and sprawls himself out. He pulls out his phone and grins at whatever he finds waiting on his screen.

“What’s so funny, jerk?”

Bucky shakes his head, content to sit there and wait for Steve to finish the plate.

Knowing he won’t leave without Steve eating everything, Steve takes another bite. Each new fork or spoonful, he shoots Bucky a look, only getting a smug smirk in return. When Steve finally finishes the plate, he sets it aside and goes back to his computer screen. He’s almost certain Bucky won’t be sticking around too long, having enjoyed the small break he’d gotten in feeding Steve.

When one of their cooks happens to walk by, Bucky notices, too, and shouts out, “Hey, we get that order from the bakery down the street yet? I wanna make sure they sent along some of their best treats.”

Steve’s attention returns to Bucky.

Before he knows it, Bucky smacks his knees and pushes to his feet. With an efficient movement born of years in the kitchen, he grabs up Steve’s empty plate and turns toward the door.

“Hey, punk, you might wanna freshen up. We’re getting a special guest tonight. Maybe this time, you’ll man up and shoot your shot.”

Steve’s brows furrow at Bucky’s words.

At least they do until Jensen walks by with an excitement Steve hasn’t seen in a few months.

“Did you hear, Boss Man?” Jensen asks as he tells Steve about the reservation that’s just come in.

A reservation for one in your name.

*****

You check your new outfit a final time in the mirror, satisfied with your efforts. The makeup you’ve chosen for the evening is minimal since you’re only interested in pleasing yourself.

Almost a year wasted with a man who never appreciated you. A man who wanted to shape and mold you into some ideal that you could never be, never wanted to be.

Six months without visiting one of your favorite places in the entire world. All because that same man had been so jealous of the attention you got from everyone there but especially from one Steve Rogers.

Oh, you can only hope that you might see Steve again that evening, having missed his sweet smile most of all these last several months. He’d been one of the first there to make you feel welcome. One by one, so did the others, but you always came back because of Steve.

Part of you wishes still that he would’ve made a move on you during one of your many visits to the steakhouse over the past few years. Maybe then he would’ve saved you all those months with someone less deserving of you and what you had to offer.

He never did though.

So, you accepted the two of you would just be friendly toward one another, just like you were with all the others there.

You can live with that.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you grab up your jacket and purse.

A final glance in the mirror to ensure your outfit is still perfect for the night you have planned. It’s during this time that your phone pings with the arrival of your Uber.

The ride to the steakhouse takes you through the familiar streets you’ve missed. It amazes you how much they have stayed the same though there are some changes that surprise you. Your favorite used bookshop’s doors have shuttered, but the café you used to visit almost every morning still thrived. A couple of new tiny shops have opened while others remain with a couple that have closed. The eclectic collection of shops was what drew you to this area in the first place when you’d been looking at universities.

Anger fills you for a moment at how manipulative your ex had been with your routine and your life. How could you let him work you like he did? How could he take the very things that made you happiest because he couldn’t handle his own feelings of jealousy and inadequacy?

So many of the hours you used to spend on these few streets, window shopping and getting to know the owners of the shops. They’d been lost to you when you let your ex into your life. Friends lost because of him. You could only wonder what they’ve been up to these past months while you’ve slowly descended into a level of hellish isolation you never wished to be in again.

As the steakhouse appeared in front of you, you perk up. Your hands automatically fidget as they run over your outfit to ensure the few wrinkles from sitting in your Uber didn’t remain when you step out in a few minutes.

A part of you hopes that Steve and all the others haven’t forgotten you.

Yet, why would they remember you?

Friendly or not, you’re still just a customer to them. A good tipper, sure, and always courteous to every employee from the bussers to the owners. You’ve never had a reason to complain about the food or the service from them, and you always tried to make sure they had no reason to complain about you.

Over the years, you’ve even gotten to know a bit about each of them. Jake’s inability to flirt despite giving him lessons whenever he served you. Nat’s intense loyalty to those she works with and her regulars, including you. Sam’s sweet but serious nature. Bucky’s strive for perfection with each dish that leaves the kitchen. Ari’s innate ability to know just what drink you need the moment you step inside (always a mocktail for you). Peter’s awkward friendliness that’s just downright infectious.

Then, there’s Steve.

Oh, you’ve learned a lot about him over the last couple of years.

He’s never been one to back down from the rowdier customers, standing firmly on the side of his staff. It’s something you’ve seen firsthand a time or two, and you’re always impressed with the way he manages to keep his anger in check. At least, inside the restaurant. You’re not unaware of the bloody knuckles he’s come back in with after escorting these obnoxious customers from his place. No doubt they deserved it, but you did worry about the consequences for him and the possibility of pressed charges.

Steve’s also been the first to lend a helping hand to those less fortunate in the neighborhood. If it’s not a free meal to help refill their empty stomachs, it’s offering them small tasks for which he handsomely pays them, even those that take less than ten minutes. He always makes sure they get enough to help through the day or even a few days. You’ve seen the kindness that comes from him and his staff, and it’s one of the many reasons your crush on him hasn’t dwindled over the years. No, it’s blossomed in ways you kinda wished it wouldn’t. There’s little hope of him ever seeing you as anything more than a valuable customer.

You’re brought out of your reverie when your Uber driver clears their throat.

Embarrassed, you quickly apologize and wrap up your business with them, stepping from the car and waving them off.

The large wooden doors leading into the steakhouse speak of an understated elegance and welcome that calls out to you. Beckons you to enter the establishment and know you’re among friends, among family.

It’s a feeling you’ve missed greatly these last several months.

Taking a breath, you pull one of the doors and step into the small entryway. The glazed inner doors don’t hide the rich interior within though they do lend some privacy to those already inside. The place is packed as usual with some guests standing or sitting on either side of the entryway, waiting for their tables.

You smile as you catch sight of a familiar face standing next to an unfamiliar one at the host stand.

Without hesitation, you open the glazed door while your smile widens into a full grin. “Well, well, well, aren’t you looking spiffier than ever, Sam?”

Sam’s head shoots up and his smile matches your own. He steps around the stand and closes the distance between the two of you. A low whistle comes out as he moves his finger in a circular motion, getting you to give him a small spin. Another whistle escapes him.

“You are a sight for sore eyes. It hasn’t been the same since we last saw you here.”

The soft reprimand isn’t missed, but you don’t hesitate when he embraces you, his forgiveness as quickly given. In your ear, he adds softly, “He hasn’t been the same.”  

Your brows furrow at this new piece of information.

Yet, you’re not given a chance to think on his words before Sam’s sweeping you away from the foyer and deeper into the steakhouse.

“Come, your table isn’t ready just yet, but I know some other people who want to see your lovely face again.”

Within a few more steps, he’s pulling out a barstool at the full bar off to the side of the steakhouse. Another friendly face turns to greet you with a big grin on his fully bearded, handsome face.

“Ari,” you say with another genuine smile for the man behind the bar.

Sweeping his longer than before locks from his face, Ari flashes you a grin of his own. “Gorgeous, long time, no see. How’ve you been?”

“Doing much better since I dropped the one-eighty anchor weighing me down.”

Ari’s grin grows. “Good riddance. For your good fortune, I have just the thing for you. One of my newest concoctions that I think you’ll enjoy. On me.”

“Oh, no, I can’t let you do that.”

You’re not allowed to go any further as Ari’s large hand settles over yours. His gaze softens into one of sheer fondness and full sincerity. “Yeah, you can. We’ve all missed you. It hasn’t been the same since you stopped coming in.”

“I’m just a customer,” you say, not fully understanding.

Ari shakes his head. A sympathetic smile takes over his original welcoming grin. “You’ve really no idea what you’ve been to all of us, have you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, setting about mixing various ingredients in the special station he created some time ago. You lose track of all that he’s mixing and matching until he finally pours the concoction in a glass and tops it with a tiny umbrella in your favorite color.

The explosion of flavors that come has you wiggling a happy little dance on the stool. While you can’t help thinking the mix shouldn’t work, it does in ways that are pleasant and hits you with a burst of such happiness. It’s such that you can’t help taking another long sip.

“Oh, you’re a true genius, Ari.” Your words are punctuated with a sip. “Mm, I love it. I’ll have to make this a standing order every time I come in from now on.”

Beaming, Ari taps the bar. “I’m holding you to that, gorgeous.”

Another customer ends up taking Ari away, but it’s just as well. You’re more than content to continue sipping your new favorite mocktail, one of many Ari’s presented to you. The man’s a notorious flirt, watching him rake in several tips over the next few minutes, but he’s also a connoisseur when it comes to alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

He comes back at the same time Sam reappears.

“Your table is ready, pretty lady.”

Saying a quick farewell to Ari, you take Sam’s offered elbow and allow him to lead you to what you believe is your usual table.

It’s more than a little surprising when he sweeps past the main dining area and through a hallway towards what you assume are the back offices and other personnel only rooms. He doesn’t stop until he pushes open a door and reveals a table set for two in a private room.

“What’s all this? Sam, what’s going on?”

Sam merely grins as he leads you to the table and holds out your chair for you. It’s only after he’s given you a menu you don’t need that he says, “I’m trying to make sure Bucky wins the bet this time.”

“Bet? What bet? You have a bet that concerns me?”

Rather than answer, Sam shoots you a wink and disappears through the door, closing it softly behind him.

A moment later, soft music drifts through hidden speakers. The melody is low but romantic though that does little to answer any of the questions this evening’s brought so far.

*****

Steve’s just finishing up the last of the paperwork when Bucky barrels into his office.

“She’s here, punk.” Bucky slams his door shut and gives Steve a thorough though quick once-over. “Is that what you call freshening up? I’m never going to win my money back from Sam if you keep this up.”

“Aren’t you slammed right now? What are you doing here?”

Bucky waves his hand in dismissal. “Everett’s got it for the next few minutes. I’m here to make sure you don’t mess this up a second time.”

Steve’s trying to follow his best friend. Really, he is.

Bucky just isn’t making much sense at this point.

“Mess what up? Buck—”

Another wave of Bucky’s hand has Steve going silent. Strong hands move his chair out of the way before he’s being tossed a garment bag.

“I had Nat pick this up before she clocked in. It should still fit, so hurry up and put it on. You can’t keep a beautiful woman waiting too long.”

Still not following but at least complying for the moment, Steve unzips the bag and finds a nice button-down shirt with what appear to be new pants. A suit jacket completes the look though he’s unsure why he needs such clothing.

“Nat’s got a good eye,” Bucky muses aloud as Steve pulls the ensemble from the bag. “That color will certainly impress her. Now, come on. We don’t have all night here.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve hurries to change his clothes.

If Bucky’s going to be like this, it’s easier to just go along and figure it out along the way. At least that’s been Steve’s experience every time Bucky’s been excited about something. It goes for everything from the latest technology to the ladies, and it’s been like this since the two became friends so many years ago.

The only time it really changed was the six months or so after they both discharged from the army. While they’d both seen combat, something happened to Bucky that he still refuses to discuss most days. Those were the hardest months of their friendship, but Steve refused to walk away, even when Bucky practically shoved him out the door a few times over.

Their eventual takeover of Bucky’s grandparents’ restaurant helped give them both a new direction and strengthened their friendship into something stronger than before they’d enlisted together.

His thoughts clear as he finishes putting on the shoes Bucky hands him, also in Steve’s size.

“Better?” Steve arches a brow at Bucky in question.

Another thorough once-over has Bucky reaching out and unbuttoning the top button of Steve’s shirt. A quick tug of the collar soon brings a grin to Bucky’s satisfied features. With a nod, he says, “Better. Let’s go win your girl, punk.”

*****

You aren’t left alone for long as Jake and Peter come into the room. While Jake’s carrying several items rather precariously, Peter follows him with flatware in their signature napkin wraps.

The fancy cloth’s colors have changed, you note, from a deep blue to a burgundy red. It’s a sign the steakhouse is gearing up for their fall season. Each season has its specific color as you learned from Nat some time ago. Something started by Bucky’s mom back when she and Bucky’s dad ran the restaurant.

“Hey, Pete, how’s school going?” you ask as the younger man moves out of Jake’s way.

Your gaze briefly leaves Peter’s face to take in the small crystal vase with a mini bouquet of seasonal flowers. Their signature glasses follow it on the table as well as everything else one might need at a steakhouse. The table soon overflows with all the items those in the main dining room have though the table itself is a bit too small to accommodate so much.

Peter pulls your attention back to him, saying, “I graduated a couple months ago. Classes at university aren’t bad though they’re not leaving me as much time to work as I’d like. Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers promoted me to server as my graduation gift. They say I earned it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you did.” You grin at him, quite proud of him. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“It’s okay.” Something in Peter’s voice tells you it’s not really, but he’s also not going to hold it against you.

Hoping to make amends for your absence in some way, you turn to Jake. “Well, maybe I can make it up to you if Jake here doesn’t mind sharing me with you tonight. I’d love to do something for such a momentous occasion, Peter. I know how hard you’ve worked through school and in school.”

Jake nods quite enthusiastically. “Not a problem with me. Nat might complain though.”

“No complaints from me,” Nat calls from the doorway, walking past with some plates from the kitchen. “He should be joining soon. Jensen. Parker, make sure he doesn’t screw this up again.”

“We’re not miracle workers,” Jake quips.

With that, Nat’s gone though you can make out her laughter down the hall.

Turning back to Jake and Peter, you ask, “Who is he? What is he not supposed to screw up?”

The two exchange a glance before Jake clears his throat and mumbles, “Boss Man.”

It might’ve been some time since you’d been at the restaurant, but you know Jake only calls one man that name in this place.

Steve.

You’re not sure what Steve has to do with you or why he’d be joining you. After all, you only made a reservation for yourself. The thought of someone else joining you hadn’t entered your mind.

Yet, you can’t say you don’t like the idea. You, in fact, really like it. It’s been something you’ve wanted for as long as you can remember and every time you’ve come here single. If only he had made a move, then maybe you might believe that he’s interested in you now. Nothing in the few years you’ve known him has hinted that he likes or liked you the way you like him.

Before you can get too far down that rabbit hole, another voice breaks the quiet of the room.

“There’s the most beautiful doll in the world.”

You smile as Bucky enters and pulls you from your seat for a hug.

“We’ve missed you around here. My kitchen staff has suffered dearly with your absence. Lost all their inspiration without your unique combinations.”

Shaking your head, you accept his kiss on your cheek and give him one in return.

“I’m sure you keep them on their toes plenty. It is nice to be back though. I’ve missed you all, too.”

Before he lets you go, he whispers, “If the punk is too dumb to shoot his shot, I just might if it means keeping you around. You light up this place in ways it hasn’t since my ma retired.”

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them back.

Leave it to Bucky and the others to make you feel so special even after such a long time being gone. It’s your sincerest hope to never stop coming here, not letting anyone keep you away from somewhere you’ve always felt welcome and wanted.

“You’re very cute,” you whisper back, “but you’re not really my type.”

He chuckles, not offended in the least. It’s not the first time you two have had this conversation. It probably won’t be the last, either, which suits you just fine.

At last, he releases you from his loose hold.

“I should get back to the kitchen. Don’t need Everett or the others to burn it down.”

You shake your head fondly. “Give Curtis more credit than that. He’s a wonderful sous chef, and you’re lucky to have him. I’m glad you took my thoughts to heart where he’s concerned.”

“How could I not? You’ve never led us astray before,” Bucky says, shooting you a wink and a farewell nod. His heavy footsteps can be heard on their way back to the kitchen where he’s always felt his most calm.

When your gaze follows Bucky’s path, it soon collides with the one person you’ve been hoping to see all day.

Your smile grows once more. It’s almost certain your cheeks will be sore in the morning from all the smiling you’ve done this evening. In a breath, you say his name.

“Hey, bijou,” he says, his voice low but warm.

You do your best not to fidget, to seek out any invisible wrinkles in your outfit.

It’s taking everything in you to keep your gaze locked with his even as you take in the navy-blue suit he’s wearing. No tie and the top button unbuttoned does something for him in ways you’re wholly unprepared for. This man is too handsome by half, and he doesn’t even know it. How fair is that to any poor woman who happens upon him?

At last, you find your voice. “You look handsome. Big date?”

He doesn’t get the chance to answer as Nat walks by again. She’s wearing a big smirk when she says, “If he’s not a complete idiot, it is.”

Your confusion isn’t lessening while Steve sends a look at Nat though he relaxes a bit, his voice almost amused. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Not only are my tables handled, boss, but I have time to make sure you win your lady.”

You don’t miss the way Nat’s gaze trails to you, her smirk intact, before she returns her attention to Steve.

“Don’t mess it up,” she says, moving away, “boss.”

The offended incredulity on Steve’s face has you fighting laughter. You’ve never seen him quite so put upon and by his staff, no less. It’s not like Bucky doesn’t tease him from time to time as you’ve witnessed. This is the first time though that the rest of the staff has joined in. You honestly can’t help wanting to laugh at the spectacle, even if you don’t quite get what they’re trying to do and what it has to do with you.

Steve seems to shake himself when his gaze finds yours. His throat clears before he finally says, “You are stunning, bijou. Special occasion?”

“Yeah. Celebrating me.” You can’t help the heat that rushes into your cheeks as you say the words. They’re so much easier to consider when you think them, but saying them aloud is something else entirely. You quickly add, “I also really missed this place.”

I missed you.

You manage to keep that thought from spilling out, leaving you open for rejection.

Eager to keep that thought from coming out, you glance around the sparsely decorated room. It’s clear this wasn’t a private dining area before, but no clue exists on what it was before the others must’ve hastily redecorated this space. For what purpose, you can’t say with any certainty.

Yet, there is a hope.

The room might not have much, but it does have enough to appear something cozy, something charming. Maybe a bit more mood lighting, then the others would succeed in whatever they were creating.

When your gaze finally returns to Steve, you swallow.

He remains in the doorway, but the look he has while watching you is something you’re not wholly prepared for. One corner of his mouth is curled upwards while his eyes are soft but focused solely on you. It’s almost like he hasn’t stopped looking at you as you take in the room. That’s a heady sensation indeed for you as you haven’t experienced that ever.

Not any of your exes. Especially not Brock. Not in the way Steve’s doing anyway.

There’s wonder and perhaps longing staring back at you.

It’s that look that compels you to ask, “Would like to join me? I mean, if you don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“I’d really like that if you’re sure you don’t mind,” he says, pushing off the doorway.

You shake your head. “I don’t mind.”

*****

Main Masterlist

[the-mandawhor1an]

Searching for the stars | Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Summary: You're about to end your work day as an achaeologist, when a call comes in that will change your life forever. Who would've guessed that the stranger causing havoc on your excavation site in the middle of the night could end up being the very owner of the villa that has long been buried.

Words: 2.7k

Tags: Time travel; Marcus is a little drunk; Mentions of death; Yeah that's it this time around.

Speech in italics indicates that Latin is being spoken.

Notes: At long last, my entry for @burntheedges's Roll a trope challenge! My trope was time travel with Marcus. I know, I know. There's not much and this thing here ended up being soooooo cliffhangery. But I've decided I will revisit these at a later point, so consider this the pilot chapter for a mini-series. I have more plot points open but I want to give them the attention they deserve, and I couldn't do that while also working on my costume project.

Comments etc. are appreciated, thank you to @rivnedell for beta-ing this for me.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Have you ever looked up at the sky and wondered?

Wondered why the stars seem sad? 

They mourn the loss of their dear sisters

Who descended from the sky to sparkle in your eyes. 

I will make sure their departure was never in vain.

You are the light of my life. 

I love you.

It was dead of night, your head in your hands, leaning above an ancient tablet. The words carved into the semitransparent block of wax touched you in a way you never thought possible. A declaration of pure devotion and love, written by a man almost two millennia ago. This deep connection he felt for the woman he addressed these words to must have been unbreakable. A love like this must’ve been nice, you thought to yourself. To be practically worshiped by a man.

You leaned back into the backrest on your chair and rubbed your eyes. The clock over your desk, endlessly ticking, told you it was close to two in the morning, meaning you’d been up for 20 hours. Time to head to bed instead of yearning for men who had been dead for a long time. 

Just as you were about to switch off the light in your office, your cellphone buzzed in your pocket. “Philippe, what the fuck, it’s –” you started when you picked up the call from your coworker, turning silent when you heard the shouting in the background of the call. “Sorry, we need you at the site right now. We have an intruder.” There were several male voices in the background. How were you of any help there? “I don’t understand, can’t the police –” “Just come,” he urged. With a sigh you pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fine, I’ll be down in a minute.” 

It had been a little longer than a minute until you approached the excavation site, hearing the shouting in the distance. The city was relatively quiet compared to the site, out in a field in the outskirts of Rome. Philippe waved you down, two security guards held a stranger, forced onto his knees, both arms in a death grip and his head forced to face the ground. He wore dirty, off-white robes, similar to the tunic a Roman would’ve worn underneath a toga. It didn’t look like a costume, either. “Drunkard, we found him stumbling along the ruins. He’s mumbling and we can’t tell if his accent is just super thick, or –” Just as he wanted to give you more insight, you heard the gravelly deep voice of the stranger. His words were slurred and you were tired, to it took a moment for your brain to register his words. 

“You’re on my land. LEAVE!” With a look of absolute bewilderment, you looked at the man, then to Philippe. “He speaks Latin?” “That or that’s the weirdest dialect I have ever heard. My Latin is rusty, I figured you’d still be up and might be able to help.” 

“This is your land?” You asked and knelt before him. His face was still turned to the ground, his breath was labored. “Yes it is, woman. Tell these men to get their hands off of me. What happened to my villa?” What a warm welcome. Something about his words made you wonder. You knew this villa belonged to a Roman general once. Said general had practically been an obsession of yours, so your heart started beating faster. With a nod you motioned the guard forcing his head down to take the hand away.    

“Woman?” Philippe asked. You turned to him for a second, still on your knees. “He claims to be the owner of this land. Asking us where his house has gone.” “What do you mean? The owner is a farmer.” “I think he’s trying to claim that he is … the general” Philippe roared with laughter, until he realized you meant it. “You actually think that is possible?” 

You turned back to the man. His breathing had calmed, but he was still mumbling to himself, about the gods, and something about the stars. Wait a second, the stars.

You hesitated for a moment, not sure if you should mention something that only the man he claimed to be would know. “Don’t you think the stars look sad tonight? I’ve been told they’re mourning.” His demeanor changed when he heard you refer to the poem you had been over for the past hours. His head turned upward slowly, almost like time was stopping, dark brown eyes finding yours. You recognized the strong facial features, although they were a lot dirtier right now. His gaze was still hostile, his forehead wrinkled, but a hint of confusion hid in his furrowed brows. You continued as you suddenly had his attention “They have lost sisters, haven’d they?” 

He swallowed, parting his lips to say something, but the words failed him. His eyes turned glassy. That might be the confirmation you had expected to see, although it pained you to see a man of his stature seem genuinely pained. He responded, “They mourn the ones that descended to sparkle in your eyes. How do you know that?” “You’ve told me… in a way. I found your scriptures, general,” you replied to him with a soft smile. It was cruel to quote what basically amounted to a declaration of love to his wife, but you figured this was something only he would have known. You looked at the two men still restraining him and asked them to let him go. He landed on his hands, not tearing his eyes from you. He was cautious, yet curious about the woman before him, speaking his language and knowing something only one woman should have known. 

“Where am I?” he asked. It was like the little interaction had sobered him up enough that he was coherent and beginning to understand his situation. If he could even understand, because you sure didn’t. “You’re in Rome. About 1800 years after your time. I’m sorry, this is probably not what you wanted to hear, General Acacius.” You straightened up, standing in front of him, offering a hand to help him up, which he declined. “You’re lying, this must be Elysium. Where is Astra?” He rose to his feet, unstably so, and stumbled into you. Your instincts kicked in and you put both hands on his chest, catching the falling body. “Astra is dead, Marcus,” you said, this time more empathetically and your eyes crossed paths again. He was so close that you could smell the wine in his breath and a hint of rosemary, possibly coming from his dark brown curls. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but please, allow me to prove it.” A strong heart was beating underneath your finger tips, his breathing was steady. Face turned downward, he watched your hands for a second until he locked eyes with you again and nodded. “Fine.” 

Accompanied by a very confused Philippe and security, you make it back to the temporary ‘head quarter’ which consisted of fully furnished, heated cargo containers. The stranger was, for the most part, cooperative but a little confused about his beloved city changing so much. Neither electricity nor any kind of wireless device was familiar to him, but he took the culture shock surprisingly calmly. Maybe he still thought he had passed, after all. 

As soon as the other men had left you after more than a couple of reassurances that you could handle the visitor, said lost soul regained his voice. “Show me the scripture,” he asked you, albeit in a rather demanding tone. “Right here,” you motioned over to your desk, where the tablet sat. He walked over and carefully swiped his fingers over the wooden frame that had saved the tablet from erosion over the years. “Please, be careful,” you urged, panic audible in your voice. Said relic was invaluable and probably one of your favorite discoveries of all. His hand removed from the delicate piece and he sighed deeply. The pain in his voice was palpable. “I wrote that as part of my marriage proposal for Astra. I am surprised it survived if this really is 1800 years old.” “I’m sorry you lost her. And I didn’t want to be so harsh out there, but that was the only way I thought I could verify your claim to be Marcus.” 

Marcus huffed and turned to face you, but something else piqued his interest. Right behind your back, there was a replica of one of the busts that depicted him. One of the first traces to his existence you had found in your career. The replica was made in ceramic, made to look like marble, but a lot less expensive and less delicate. 

He stared at the bust in disbelief. It had his armor on, looked similar to him, but still, what you were telling him didn’t make sense to him. You watched him from the side and were actually impressed how well the sculptor had managed to capture his features. His prominent nose, the strong brows, the serious look on his face. Even the fullness of his hair they had somehow managed to simulate despite the unmoving medium it was carved into. His hair war unruly after the fight with security, but the curls were still there. It was hard to deny that he was handsome, even more so in the flesh. 

"What do they say about me?" he asked calmly. His fingertips brushed over the sculpture’s hair. He pulled back, remembering how protective you had been over the wax tablet, but you nodded in silent reassurance that it was fine to touch. 

"You were a fierce warrior, but deep down you were a broken man, yearning to be reunited with your lover. You fought like you never feared death, in fact you would have embraced it, but the gods didn’t grant your wish. You might have never seen yourself as a man of words, but the few I found made your love for her very obvious. I’m really sorry that you lost her." 

A frown crept up to his lips with the mention of his wife. As much as the characterization fit, he hated that he was known for the pain he endured and the pain he caused. You saw the muscles in his jaw flex. "How did I die?" He turned back to you.

You shook your head. "We… never found out. You disappeared one night. The last accounts of sightings said you got drunk one night, stumbled across your estate and begged for the gods to have mercy, to take your life so you could be reunited with her. And you vanished. Some speculate you killed yourself in a nearby creek, or maybe died accidentally." 

"That was just before I woke up here," he said in confusion. His arms crossed in front of his chest, a sigh rumbling through his lungs. You couldn’t help but scan over his arms, so on display without any fabric covering his sunkissed, muscly biceps. 

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, mimicking his expression, more on accident than consciously. “I’m not a very religious person, especially as very little people believe in the Roman Gods any more, but… it would explain why you’re here. Maybe you need to do something here and then you get to be with her.” You couldn’t believe what you were saying, but he was here after all, and you were actually convinced that this was Marcus Acacius. If this was a dream and you had fallen asleep on your desk, this sure felt real, realer than any dream you ever had. 

“Perhaps,” he mumbled and wiped over his face with his right hand, never breaking eye contact with the statue. His gaze wandered to the walls, all of them plastered in hints about him, everything you found out about the general in your years of study. “You know a lot about me.” You nodded in response. ”Yes, I’m … a scholar. I studied history and you more specifically,” you explained, motioning towards the walls of information with your hand. It was odd, to say the least, to have your subject more or less in front of you. There was so much you wanted to ask him. You had to stop yourself though, the shock probably needed some time to settle for him. For you it would also take some time to accommodate to the fact you had a Roman General in your office. ”You are surprisingly calm for someone that just woke up 1800 years in the future,” you added as an afterthought. 

His dark brown eyes met your again. Gone was the drunk attitude and all that remained was a broken man. ”I thought I must be dreaming at first. But I could never imagine a world like this. And then I thought this might be Elysium and you were my guide” His lips curled into a soft smile. It seemed genuine, and you were impressed how open minded he was, given where he came from. It must have been extraordinarily strange to wake up here. Strange clothes, strange languages, artificial light and electricity. 

”You might want to get some rest. Sleep the wine off and start arranging yourself with the new environment. I will see if I can get you something to wear in the morning. Unfortunately you can’t stay dressed like this,” you motioned to his tunic. It might have been quite normal back then, but now? They would think he was some weird larper. 

”Do you live here?” he asked. You shook your head, a little confused by the question. ”My house isn’t far from here, though. A few minutes walk.” “And you will sleep here?” ”I prefer my bed to be honest, but it’s for the best if someone stays with you.” He made a little grunt before he said ”I won’t be trouble, go sleep in your bed.” 

You shook your head. “I know you mean well but I can’t leave you alone. This … place isn’t safe for someone who’s not familiar with anything.” He scoffed again, but didn’t press the issue further. 

You left the office for a second to get a mattress and a blanket to make yourself a little bed in front of the couch. You motioned for him to flop down on the couch before laying down next to the sofa on the small mattress. ”We’ll get some clothes for you tomorrow. I’ll take you to my house so you can wash yourself,” you said with a yawn. Marcus turned to look at you, his gaze was intense like he was studying you. 

”What is it?” you asked him when his staring lingered for way longer than necessary. ”Are all women today strange like you? Why are you helping me?” was all he asked. Well. Why did you? ”You’re stuck here,” you started, looking at the ceiling. “I might be the only person that can maybe help you find whatever you’re supposed to find. It probably is a bit of my pride as well. I’ve studied you for so long and I would regret not spending time with you. You can teach us so much about Rome in your time. About the emperor. About the wars you were in. About the arena.” “You don’t want to hear about that,” he simply stated and turned his back towards you. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. Then we’ll just find out what your reason to be here is.” You also turned your back toward him, hearing the rustle of his pillow about half a minute after. It fell quiet in your office, only a few hours before the sun rose again. 

While you couldn’t remember any of your dream that night, Marcus must’ve encountered some divination during his rest. The voice of his late wife echoed in his mind, soft and warm like her lips whenever she kissed him. 

‘We will be reunited, my love. Find me where you laid me to rest.‘ 

He woke up a mere 5 hours later, his heart ardent with the knowledge of what he and his new found ally would have to do. Find Astra. 

Taglist: @jennaispunk @burntheedges @whocaresstillthelouvre @roughdaysandart

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[shybluebirdninja]

The Wrong Wedding

Summary: You and Bucky accidentally show up at the wrong wedding after his GPS leads you astray. Instead of leaving, Bucky (in all his grumpy glory) suggests crashing it “just for fun.” You two end up on the dance floor, Bucky makes a hilarious speech, and by the end of the night, you’re taking home more wedding cake than the actual guests. Who knew the Winter Soldier could be so mischievous?

Pairing            : Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Genre              : Fluff

It all started with Bucky's insistence that his GPS app was better than mine. He was so confident—borderline cocky—about it. We were supposed to be headed to Steve’s cousin’s wedding, which was in the middle of nowhere, somewhere off a dirt road, in a place with more cows than cell towers.

“Trust me,” Bucky had said, flicking his phone screen with his vibranium fingers. “I’ve been using this app for ages. It’s foolproof.”

Clearly, Bucky hadn’t met the one fool who could outsmart even the most advanced piece of Stark tech: himself.

An hour into the drive, I noticed something was off. The trees were looking... different. Like, spooky, “I’m going to kill you and your super-soldier boyfriend” kind of different.

“Bucky, I don’t think this is the way,” I said, squinting out the window. “Did Steve’s cousin plan their wedding in the middle of a horror movie set?”

He just grunted, glancing over at me for a second. “Relax. We’re fine. GPS says it’s just a few more miles.”

I leaned forward and saw the little blinking dot on his phone. “What does ‘Danger: No Road Access’ mean?”

He blinked. “Probably just a suggestion.”

“Uh-huh. And what about ‘Entering Restricted Area: Authorized Personnel Only’?”

Bucky shrugged, his fingers tapping the steering wheel like he didn’t just guide us into a potential military test site. “It’s fine. Steve’s family is kinda military, right? They probably booked a spot near a base.”

“Right.”

Another fifteen minutes passed, and finally, we pulled into a parking lot filled with cars. There were people milling around, music playing, and... was that a fountain of champagne?

“See?” Bucky smirked, throwing the car in park. “Told you.”

I eyed the fancy decorations and wedding arches. “Steve said his cousin’s wedding was supposed to be a ‘rustic, simple affair.’ This looks like Beyoncé’s vow renewal.”

Bucky frowned, glancing around. “Well... maybe rustic means different things to different people?”

I shot him a look but shrugged. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with. But if this isn’t the right wedding, you’re making the speech to the bride and groom.”

“Deal.”

As we got out of the car, Bucky fixed his suit jacket, pulling at the cuffs like he wasn’t used to dressing up. I, on the other hand, was just praying my dress didn’t ride up in the wind as we walked toward the entrance.

The moment we stepped inside, something felt... wrong.

First of all, there were way too many people for Steve’s cousin. Secondly, there was a chocolate fountain. With gold flakes.

I leaned over to Bucky, whispering, “You sure Steve’s cousin isn’t like, the secret heir to a throne or something? This feels kinda royal.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. “Yeah, this seems a little... much.”

Just as we were about to turn around, a woman wearing a glittery, over-the-top dress—clearly tipsy—grabbed Bucky’s arm. “Oh my God, you made it!” she squealed, eyes wide. “Natalie will be so happy!”

I stifled a laugh as Bucky’s face froze in horror. The woman didn’t even give him a chance to respond before dragging us toward the dance floor, where the bride and groom—Natalie and some dude we had never met in our lives—were having their first dance.

“Yep,” I whispered, biting back a smile. “We’re at the wrong wedding.”

Bucky glanced at the bride and groom, then back at me. “You wanna leave?”

“Are you kidding?” I grinned. “Hell no. We’re staying.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Why do I let you talk me into this crap?”

“Because you love me, obviously.” I tugged him toward the open bar, smirking. “Come on, might as well enjoy the free booze.”

We spent the next half hour trying to blend in, sipping champagne and stealing bites of hors d'oeuvres that looked way too fancy for regular humans. Bucky kept looking around, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. I, on the other hand, was living for it.

“So,” I teased, leaning on the bar, “when are you going to make that speech you promised?”

His face went pale. “You were serious about that?”

“Dead serious.”

Before he could protest, the tipsy glittery woman from earlier suddenly appeared, now holding two glasses of champagne. “Oh my God, you have to give a speech! You’re practically family!”

Bucky looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “I’m practically family?”

The woman waved him off. “Natalie will love it! Go, go!”

I shoved him lightly. “Come on, Barnes. Time to shine.”

He groaned but stood up, adjusting his jacket like he was going into battle.

As he took the mic, I could see him searching for something to say. Anything.

“Uh,” Bucky started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “So… weddings, huh?”

I bit my lip to stop from laughing. This was already a trainwreck.

“They’re... great,” he continued, glancing at the bride and groom who were staring at him expectantly. “You know, marriage is like... teamwork. Like... um, the Avengers. You got your Iron Man, who’s always doing his thing, and then there’s Cap—Steve—who’s, uh, really good at giving speeches...”

Oh. My. God.

I buried my face in my hands as Bucky rambled on about superheroes and teamwork, comparing marriage to “coordinating a mission,” and something about “taking down Hydra together.”

By the time he wrapped it up with, “So yeah... uh, congrats, I guess,” the room was dead silent.

Then, suddenly, the bride—Natalie—burst out laughing, clapping her hands. “That was amazing! Best speech ever!”

The rest of the crowd erupted in applause, and I couldn’t stop laughing as Bucky stumbled off the stage, red-faced and glaring at me.

“Did you really just compare marriage to taking down Hydra?” I gasped between fits of laughter.

“Shut up,” he muttered, downing the rest of his champagne. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You love me, remember?”

He grumbled something under his breath, but I saw the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The rest of the night was a blur of dancing, stealing more fancy food, and somehow convincing Bucky to slow dance with me. He wasn’t great at it—he kept stepping on my toes—but seeing the Winter Soldier awkwardly trying to sway to a love song was probably the cutest thing I’d ever witnessed.

By the end of the night, we were sitting by the chocolate fountain, eating cake and pretending we belonged there.

“So,” Bucky said, licking some frosting off his thumb, “wanna tell Steve about how we crashed the wrong wedding?”

I shook my head. “Nope. This is between us. Our little secret.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

As we got up to leave, the bride ran over to us again, giggling as she handed Bucky a massive box of cake. “Take this with you! You guys were so fun, I’m so glad you came!”

Bucky blinked, looking down at the cake. “Uh, thanks?”

And just like that, we walked out of the wrong wedding, carrying more cake than we could eat in a month.

As we got into the car, I glanced over at Bucky, who was still holding the box. “So... GPS app of yours, huh? Foolproof, right?”

He shot me a death glare. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

I grinned, leaning back in my seat as he started the car. “Admit it, Barnes. You had fun.”

He didn’t respond, but the small smile on his face told me everything I needed to know.

And as we drove away from the most ridiculous night ever, I couldn’t help but laugh. Who knew the Winter Soldier could be such a troublemaker?

[foxlightwill]

forgot to say earlier that i noticed in my visit summary to my PCP today she put down that i did have a surgical site infection. those are extremely uncommon. i called them and asked about it and she wasn’t certain i did without labs but that the drainage i was having made her worried i did have one and that may have been what pulled the stitches open, as she had seen the incision a week ago and noticed it didn’t look too good. i had already been on antibiotics from her, and was taking good care of it, which could have slowed the progress. but she did think it WAS starting to heal and not as bad as it could have been.

she, too, found the surgeon’s conduct questionable, so honestly i’m getting very close to leaving my first ever review for a doctor online and of this surgeon.

(and not a good one, if that wasn’t clear!)

he didn’t prescribe me *any* antibiotics after surgery (which even the *OR staff* seemed surprised by — one said “really?” even!), and he said he was just going to “call me” for a follow-up… never did. this is also the same office that wrote down a literal date and time for my surgery, then didn’t actually schedule it simply because i said i didn’t know if i could make that time, then tried to blame me.

and i have a creeping suspicion that he didn’t install the device correctly when he put it in in the first place, i even recall him mentioning he had “trouble” with it, and that’s why it wasn’t working and had to be removed. after my surgery he didn’t even talk to me to tell me it hadn’t been working — he told my dad then left! the nurse did not inform me either, and they discharged me only about 15 minutes after waking up.

if you haven’t had surgery before, they wait at least an hour! it was very odd! not to mention i acquired *two* infections after the operation, apparently!

i try to be very generous towards doctors who aren’t psychiatrists, because i was never formally educated in medicine. i try to see their point of view before jumping to conclusions… and i know antibiotics aren’t always prescribed after surgery as well, but holy shit, i’m just starting to think all of this was unprofessional behavior and poor conduct. i have had much more complicated surgeries than this with no problems. it was a simple removal of a device underneath the surface of my skin in my fat tissue!

(and, i also wonder if some of this strange behavior may have been related to me being transgender, which they knew. they did not treat me this way pre-transition during the installation of the device. it was radically different!)

i’m so grateful i found such a great PCP… she’s been very good to me for years now, even when i came out to her as trans, she has treated me no differently. still just as kind, understanding, and compassionate. i got lucky for once.

hell, i might have been in the hospital by now if not for her!

[azulathetrashyler]

I’m gonna have to move houses.

my mom just set up an apartment deal for us and our animals..

but- but when she gets sad, she gets clingy- and I’m not sure if I’m gonna be able to use tumblr, roblox anything for a long time after we’ve moved.

if I just, disappear? This is why..

I’m so so sorry @madcatdaderpydrawer-blog @sleeping-little-cloud

but- I’m pretty sure pretty soon I’m not going to be able to talk with you guys for- 3 more years until i’m 18..

I’m sorry, I’m so.. so sorry.. I din’t want to. I don’t want to have to leave you guys but..

i can’t, she’ll get clingy, and I won’t be able to use my iPad without her constantly on my ass.. I’m sorry everyone..

I’m so. So sorry…-

Keep March 9th 2025 in mind. That’s my birthday, and past that? If I don’t come back after?… assume the worst. As it’s probably the truth.

[moeblob]

A lil guy !

[fedoraspooky]

I haven’t been here long. What irritating changes have been made?

Credit where it's due, some changes have been good, like polls and stuff! But the big recent changes thus far that I would classify as irritating are:

- The UI change. This one may be less irritating for newcomers because it's basically the same layout as twitter and instagram, but for a lot of folks who've been here a long time, it feels cramped and like a loss of identity for the site. For many, the appeal of tumblr is that it ISN'T an algorithm hell like twitter or insta. Also, there's the annoyance of having to relearn where everything is, because it all got moved around.

- The users being lab rats for various tests the devs wanna pull out of nowhere without consenting to beta testing new site features- like the one that took away user icons on the dash for like half the site. They finally put them back after getting enough feedback that said NO, but users were so used to their feedback being disregarded that they were half expecting the change to be pushed through anyway.

- The Netflix tie-in advertising being pushed even to people who had PAID tumblr for a no-ads experience. Complete with them somehow thinking it would be a good idea to put an unescapable-by-scrolling spooky clown on peoples' dashboards that u had to use ublock to get rid of. While I'm not scared of clowns and often find them quite charming, it sucks that staff didn't take coulrophobia being a common fear into account.

- A wave of fully sfw trans posts being wrongfully marked Mature and staff doing little to nothing about it. Not sure if this is still ongoing, but it destroyed a lot of trust and good will. (LGBT+ users have been having to fight a constant war against censorship ever since the adult content ban on tumblr, so yeah... Nevar 4get the list of banned search words that would bring back no results, like 'girl')

- The site gradually moving away from customization. Tumblr is a BLOGGING site. But it seems to have lost sight of that fact, because most new users don't even know you can fully customize your blogs with css and stuff (an option that is now off by default for new accounts!), because of the in-dash viewer giving you only how blogs look on mobile, which is a lot more uniform. There, it's more like every other site- you get a banner and icon. Oh, but you can change colors and fonts from a drop-down list too, that's cool I guess. Though they recently took away custom color schemes on Message windows, just another little bit of personalization taken away.

- TUMBLR. LIVE. Basically tumblr teamed up with a skeevy dating app partner to allow for livestreams- but not the cool kinda livestreams like on twitch where you can draw or play games, no- to a site full of people who value anonymity, they decided to push phone cam only livestreams. Not only that but by agreeing to the terms, you're giving out tons of personal data including your location to said skeevy dating app partner and all of THEIR third-party ad partners. Needless to say, most people didn't wanna use it, so instead of users it's flooded by p*rn bots (which is ANOTHER issue we've been dealing with for a long time and have been getting an even bigger influx of FROM tumblr live) and scammers. And thus, since tumblr likes to put a carousel of current streams on people's dashes, you often get softcore p*rn thumbnails from the bot streams with no way to avoid it except for toggling off tumblr live entirely.

- Oh wait. That's right. You CAN'T toggle it off. Because you can only snooze it for a while until BAM, you're jumpscared by a carousel of ladies licking your screen again! But hey, at least they made the snooze 30 days instead of the 7 it used to be, right? Yeah, except for the fact that you can't get rid of the tumblr live button itself on the app anymore, and now it's front and center with a NEW notification tag on it, overlapping your dash and cramming useful stuff like the search button out of the way.

NOW- A lot of this stuff CAN be at least mostly fixed on desktop by installing ublock and xkit and tampermonkey + dashboard unfucker... But that's a lot of stuff just to make the site usable, you know?

[cryptids]

Guys tumblr isn't going to be deleted....!! 😭 a skeleton crew is just the bare minimum amount of staff required to run the website. It will still be here and it will still have staff/people working on the site, just a lot less of them

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various recent pictures of things

[therentyoupay]

“This year has been kind of wild, hasn’t it?” Anna muses much, much later that evening, well into the second round of dessert. Elsa looks up, startled by the wave of somber thoughtfulness from Anna’s side of the table. She isn’t quite sure what’s going on in her own headspace, let alone her sister’s.

“I mean,” Anna’s face crumbles, and she hides it poorly, “between me moving around so much, and finding my new job, and. You know. Dealing with Hans.”

Elsa’s fingers tighten imperceptibly on the handle of her fork. She lets Anna talk, and offers her a single encouraging nod, precise and controlled. Anna’s mouth is brave, tiny smiles and courageous words, but her eyes glisten with disappointment, with fear, with countless questions that Elsa cannot answer.

“I guess I wasn’t expecting my life to really… turn out like this?”

That makes two of us, Elsa can’t help but think but doesn’t dare let the thought rise any closer to the surface. These thoughts are not fair, she knows. They are not real, or maybe they are, but perhaps they shouldn’t be; Elsa has made her own decisions, and Anna has made hers—because Anna is an adult, because she’s starting to think like one—and now the two of them are left to pick up the pieces.

“I can understand that feeling,” Elsa shares, reluctant to offer anything more encouraging, such as no one does, really, or there’s still so much more, and your life isn’t over yet. “Sometimes plans change.”

Anna makes a face. “Sometimes for the better,” she mutters darkly, grimacing into her cup of cold tea. Elsa faintly wonders when Anna will think to reheat it but lets her make that choice on her own; she tries to keep a tally in her head, these days, of how many choices she consciously relents to Anna. She knows Anna does not notice. “Like. A hell of a lot better.”

Elsa cracks an amused grin at the grit in Anna’s voice, of fire and violence, and you won’t fool me again, and allows herself a deep sigh of unexpected relief.

“It’s okay to blame me, you know,” Anna’s confession cuts through the contented haze of Elsa’s awareness. Her sister’s eyes are so honest, and all over again, Anna is breaking, breaking her heart. “You gave up your doctoral program for me.”

Elsa turns her gaze to the contents of her mug, still warm. Whatever she says next will stay in Anna’s heart forever; she wants to make sure the words are the right ones.

“I did,” she answers eventually. “But I left for me, too.”

“But you’ve been waiting for that opportunity your whole life,” Anna insists, and her cheeks are dry but there are tears in her voice, in her throat, in her essence. “You want it. And you gave it up, because I’m a mess.”

“No,” Elsa corrects. “I withdrew because life is a mess.” She thinks in sudden waves and flashes—of freedom, of feeling trapped by four walls and a bedroom set of furniture, of opportunity, of wanting escape but not knowing how to find it, of feeling crowded and alone, of realizing that control is relative and everything and nothing, and says, “It may not have been the best thing to do, but it was the best decision we could have made at the time. It happened because it needed to happen.” Elsa lets that sink in. “And I’ll go back someday.”

“When?” Anna wants to know.

But Elsa still doesn’t really have an answer.

————

start from the beginning of livable 🎄🎁❤️

[hawkeyedflame]

.

[swagging-back-to]

im actually floored by how well the girls are getting along. they're all running on the wheel together and just napping. they are literally so chill together rn it's insane

[quincywillows]

@staff i just gotta say as someone who has been on this webbed site for well over a decade, seen its prior highs and lows, had my crits but accepted all nice things have flaws and genuinely does love this platform and what it’s all about, all these new twitter-centric type updates has me for the first time in over ten damn years thinking about abandoning the site. i know im just one of hundreds of thousands of users, but it’s not a joke or exaggeration when people are saying you’re alienating and scaring off your core user base.

please. stop. dig into what you’re unique and good at, and do not try to become a replica of failing websites many of us fled or hate in the first place