#I just need the five Ws you know

[waterthrush]

seeing a lot of very complicated and well written takes on tommys house being destroyed great job all But first can someone like tell me who did it or something at least

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[myfictionaldreams]

Hi, hello! I see requests are open and if you’re liking this idea, I hope you enjoy writing it. If not, it’s more than okay🙈🥺

OKAY OOKKAAAY!!

What if the winter soldier was triggered because of the high amount of stress + torture Bucky goes through while kidnapped by whoever.

Yes the Wakanda’s deprogrammed the soldat but no one really thought pass that. So when Bucky is kidnapped and put under that stress the WS is triggered, comes out to save himself/ Bucky from it

My Little Sun // Bucky/WS x fem!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy ღ

Tags: sfw, lots of angst, fluff, description of injuries, reference to torture, trauma response, anxiety, crying, overprotective (to the absolute max), possessive, sam wilson is a great friend

Words: 5.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The days were endless but the nights were torturous when he wasn’t there. The silence, the coolness of the sheets, the empty coffee cup left on the side, it wasn’t how it was supposed to be and that only made it all the more difficult to be in your home.

“I’ll be back in a few days Doll, it’s not supposed to be a big deal anyway, Sam just needs an extra pair of super strong hands”. Bucky always attempted to use his humour to try and ease the anxieties he knew that would be your worst enemy whilst he was away.

Hundreds of missions you’d been there to wave him off, and welcomed him back without even a scratch but this only made it worse, your luck had to run out eventually, right?

Not that your and Bucky's story was the happiest, to begin with. The two of you had been together since Hydra days, having been the Winter Soldier’s nurse until Alexander Pierce noticed the Asset responded better to your orders. For years and years, he only trusted you, even through the mental “resets” or being frozen, the Winter Solider would only trust you. This had its positives and negatives that Pierce liked to use against you but, when Steve Rogers finally found out about his best friend was alive, everything changed. This wasn’t the end of your story though, for two years following this, the two of you were on the run, then lived in Wakanda, saying a farewell to Winter Soldier, then the blip. Both of you were gone for five years which you were in a way thankful for, not sure either could cope without the other and now, after Steve was gone, Bucky was on the road to recovery - with the additional missions with Sam Wilson.

This wasn’t as bad for you but having returned to nursing meant that you couldn’t always be there when he returned or be able to check your phone for updates. At least the role kept you busy, as the days ticked by and finally, as the day of his return was due, you were stuck on restocking, which meant you could stare at your phone, waiting for the jet to return.

The second the phone buzzed, you were off, heart hammering in your chest with the adrenaline, rushing to the headquarters.

Maybe it was your anxiety that overthought the atmosphere in the room, overthinking why it was so quiet, no rushing of agents to unload the jet. It had to also be your anxiety as to why no one seemed to look into your eye or even smile and wave at your arrival, everyone was probably tired.

As you waited in your usual spot, your foot tapping anxiously against the stone floor, it was taking a lot longer to unload the jet. Eventually, an agent approached, suggesting you sit in one of the conference rooms, at least there you could sit down with a glass of water. They were just being polite, there was definitely nothing wrong, even as the 30-minute wait time turned into an hour. You tried to keep your spirits up, knowing that if those negative whispers at the back of your mind started to shout, you’d lose all composure. It was only a few days that they’d been away, only to infiltrate some stolen goods from being trafficked across the borders.

But then, it was strangely close to a known Hydra camp that had been whispered about throughout the underground market with recent activity. A shiver passed through your body at even the mere thought of the name that had ruined so many people's likes, it was almost like a swear word you weren’t allowed to think about.

The years of torture, life-ruining time spent with those demons and through it all Bucky was your saving grace, he always had been, even with the Asset’s mindset. There had always been hope and that had come in the shape of Steve Rogers and most importantly Shuri, giving the Winter soldier the peace to be deprogrammed and allowing Bucky to try and proceed with the life he should have had. Even though it had been years, there was always a small inkling in your mind that the Winter Soldier was ready to be released beneath the surface, something just holding him back and with one wrong move he would be set free and chaos would be caused. 

So as the minutes ticked by, waiting and waiting, the anxiety soon felt like impending doom, your chest ready to split open in fear.

Then finally, after nearly two hours of waiting, it all came crashing down as Sam Wilson slowly opened the door by himself, shutting it soundly behind him. He was still in his Captain America uniform, blood and dirt coating it.

You had stood as soon as the door handle turned, facing Sam, tears welling in your eyes, all control disappearing. Attempting to look into the light in the ceiling to stop the tears from falling, something wasn’t sitting right in your gut, it hadn’t for days, almost like an intuition.

“Is he dead?” your voice wobbled as you tried to hold on from having a complete meltdown, knees locking to stop from shaking and falling.

Sam took a deep breath, making sure to look you in the eye. “He’s not dead, but he hasn’t returned with us. We were ambushed”.

“Who…”

“Hydra”.

That one word, the tainted ugly word was enough to have your body giving up on any strength that it had retained. Sam was quick to catch you before you slammed to the floor, easing the seat beneath you and pouring a glass of fresh water, making sure you took a sip before sitting in the seat next to you.

His hand rested on yours as it lay in your lap, as he began to explain the situation and you were so very grateful for your friend, not trusting yourself to speak at that current moment.

They’d been ambushed, the entire operation was a setup and even the agents, specifically, Bucky was able to hold the enemy back, eventually, they had surrounded him and before Sam could reach him, they had gone.

“I knew this would happen” you eventually declared, looking at Sam’s tired face. “I knew they would get to him, I’ve heard the rumours and the threats but no one seemed to take them seriously! Sam what if they-”

“I know what you’re going to say but that will not happen, Ok? Zemo’s tried it, and others have attempted it. Bucky is just Bucky, Shuri has made sure that the Winter Soldier was deprogrammed so let’s try not to lose control here, we need to concentrate on getting him back and safely.”

There was no reason to disagree with him but the thoughts continued to send you into a panic, spiralling through your head causing only more detriment to your mental health but you wouldn’t verbally say them, wouldn’t want to manifest them into a reality.

“He’s not dead, I would know if he were”, you knew it didn’t make sense, you didn’t have a tracker on his heart but through everything the two of you had shared, it was almost like a silent connection. He often joked that you were both two of the same coin and you truly believed that too.

“He’s not, I believe that too, they wouldn’t want to kill him so quickly”. Saying it like that had sour bile threatening to spill from your mouth so you forced yourself to drink another sip of water, silent tears dripping down your cheeks.

“So what do we do now? Are there people searching for him?”

“Of course, we have everyone out there searching the area, drones are scanning the ground to sense any underground holdings. We aren’t stopping for even a moment. The only reason I’ve returned is that I wanted to be the one to tell you and get some more supplies”.

You tried to half-ass a smile, looking back at Sam with sincerity. “Thank you, I do appreciate it coming from you Sam. What time do we go-”

“That’s the other reason I’m here because I know you’d somehow get involved in the search and I’m sorry but I can’t have you anywhere near the site.”

The overwhelming urge to shout took over your body so much that you had to take a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders, ignoring the heat that had settled in your cheeks. “Listen, Sam, I can be useful please, I know what Hydra are like”.

“I understand that but, you’ve got to see it from my perspective as well. They’ve got Bucky, now what would happen if they also captured you too? What could they make Bucky do if you were in harm's way?  Even without the Winter Soldier, Bucky would kill anyone if it meant keeping you protected so there’s no way I’m letting that happen.”

This also made sense but it still didn’t stop your stomach from clenching as you refrained from arguing. As you tried to settle your emotions, you took in your friend, really looked at him and saw the overwhelming exhaustion and fear settled within his eyes.

“We’ll find him, Sam. Come on, I’ll clean you up, that’s a nasty scratch you’ve got there”, referring to the gash across his forehead. You wanted to be a good friend as much as he has been for you but also, it was a good distraction to fall into work habits.

Working soon became your only salvation, after looking after Sam and watching him return to the jet, you’d made your way back to work yourself. It was the only distraction that had worked and after nearly three days, it had quickly consumed your life, having not returned home once since discovering the news. If you weren’t working, you were sleeping in the changing rooms, showering there, eating vending machine food and returning for the shift.

If you didn’t do this, you’d have a complete and utter breakdown and it also stopped you from getting into a car or plane and going out to where he had been taken. You were sure that the agents were becoming fed up with your ungodly amount of phone calls but every update was needed, even though there had currently been absolutely nothing.

Eventually on the fourth day, your superior ordered you to go home for a full 12 hours but this only meant that you could go back to the office and watch the agents work. None of them asked you to leave which you were thankful for but it was an endless cycle after this, working as a nurse and then sitting with agents.

Four days soon turned into eight which was also when Sam returned again. He’d been out there every single day searching for Bucky, trying to find any clues and it was mostly his activity that you’d watch on the screen day after day.

Sam approached behind you, laying a hand on your shoulder, “let's go for a walk”.

You didn’t want to argue, following behind him as he led the way to the grounds, it felt odd to be outside for this amount of time.

“They called you back to talk to me, didn’t they?” You knew that your behaviour wasn’t normal but it was the only coping mechanism that you could handle right now and you weren’t interfering with anyone either.

“I’ve had my boss and your boss on the phone with me so yes, you’re quite the hot topic. I know you’re worried, I get it, I am too. But you’re going to kill yourself waiting around or working too hard. You need to go home, sweetheart, get some rest, and have an actual meal. If anything happens you’ll be the first person that I call.”

“I can’t go home Sam, not without him, we were supposed to go back together!”, any hope of salvaging the tears was useless as they began to drip down your cheeks.

“I understand that, but you know Buck would kill me if I didn’t look after you so for all of our sakes, let me please drive you home and I’ll even pick you up in the morning but I need you to look after yourself for once.”

The exhaustion truly hit you then, hoping that maybe you were so tired that you’d get in and fall asleep immediately, not having to think about the empty apartment. Eventually, you agreed to Sam’s request, letting him drive you back to your building which you stared at for a few minutes upon arrival, not making any effort to actually leave the safe space within the car. 

“You can do this, if you need anything I’m just at the end of the phone”, he attempted to motivate you, which you were thankful for.

Turning to him in the car, you smiled softly, probably for the first time in eight days, “thanks Sam, I’m lucky to have you in my life”.

“If you keep talking like that you might even make me cry”, he tried to joke, pulling a genuine smile to your cheeks as you exited the car and finally made your way into the apartment. For a good two minutes, you silently stared at the front door, taking a step forward and as the key entered, a small sob escaped your mouth.

The apartment had never looked so dark before as the sun began setting outside, much too quiet as you stepped in. Bucky liked to always have noise even as he slept, mostly from a distraction from his thoughts so you took a leaf out of his book and rushed to turn on the TV.

The background did help slightly, rushing to shower and load the washer but the place felt haunting, even though this was all in your head. Attempting to keep busy, you cleaned the apartment, emptying the contents fridge that held a lot of gone-off food, the milk having solidified so quickly, you threw it into the trash.

Heading downstairs, you disposed of the trash bag into the dumpsters, taking your time to go back as the stars twinkled in the night sky above.

Just as you were outside your apartment door, you stopped. On the floor, was a singular drop of blood at the threshold of the door, that you’d left open as the area was usually secure.

Patting your body quickly for your phone, you cursed for leaving it on the side. Also, you checked that somehow you’d not scratched yourself or even had a nosebleed but there was nothing. The sensible decision would have been leaving the building and not coming back but something within you drew you into the apartment, stepping quietly and turning on the main light, illuminating the kitchen and living room area.

Bucky’s name whispered at the back of your thoughts but you couldn’t let your hopes be lifted. There were no further blood spots anywhere in your home, and as you entered the bedroom, the last room to check, there were no signs of anything wrong, nothing was out of your place, even your phone was still left laying on the side as you reentered the main living space.

This was when a force bulldozed into you, a large hand covering your mouth and a sharp knife held at your throat, pressing over your artery as the weight pushed you back until colliding with the wall. Momentarily you were winded but the sight before you had instant tears welling in your eyes, a sob bubbling in your throat, the hand over your mouth stopping you from crying out the name, Bucky.

There he was, standing over you and there was so much to take in. He was coated in dirt and blood, fresh and dried. Cuts, grazes, gashes, bruises, every form of injury littered the exposed parts of his body, the rest were covered in filthy joggers and a shirt that you suspected to once be grey but now were mixed between black and red, especially the large blood patch in his abdomen that looked fresh.

Bucky had super soldier serum, he would always heal quicker than others, in fact, the paper-thin scratches that you noticed should have healed as you looked at them to nothing more than a pink line but they stayed, unhealed.

However, through everything, it was his eyes that had your thoughts screaming on red alert. The eyes, the stare, that you hadn’t seen in years.

Not panicking was key so even with the knife at your throat, you dropped your shoulders, showing you had no fear, the Winter Soldier always hated when you looked frightened of him. The usual soft clear blue eyes of Bucky were now hard and slightly glazed over as he looked down at your shorter form.

Trying to maintain your courage and not falter, you began to lift your hands, palms up, showing that there are no weapons and you meant no harm but the Asset already knew this. Taking a risk, you wrapped your hands around his wrists, gently earring them away from their hold against you.

The Winter Soldier did not fight it at all.

“Soldier?” you asked tentatively as his hand was removed from your mouth.

The Asset collapsed and any attempt you had to catch him was in vain as he weighed a lot more than you could carry but thankfully, you managed to cup the back of his head before it collided with the floor.

“Buck- Soldier? Open your eyes, please!” desperately you cradled his face, stroking both thumbs against his bruised cheekbones but he was out cold, not even his eyes flickered.

Nurse mode kicked in as you instantly went to the dark area at his abdomen, lifting his shirt to see a stab wound that was still bleeding slowly. Rushing off your feet, you grabbed the first aid pack from the cupboard as well as your phone, leaving it at your side to quickly put pressure onto the wound. 

This woke him up as he grunted in pain, his breaths leaving him in quick bursts as he attempted to grip your wrists.

“Shh it’s ok, I’m going to look after you, I just need to stop the bleeding, I know it hurts, I’m sorry”.

“Солнышко”, he whispered a name that you had not heard in a long time. Years ago, the Soldier had whispered it to you so no one could hear. Eventually, it was the only name he would call you, and one day, it was translated for you. “Little sun”. As he began to regain his memories after escaping Hydra, he would talk about why this name, only repeating that you were his light in a world full of darkness, therefore, his little sun.

“It’s ok, Soldier, you’re going to feel better, I just need you to stay still, let go of my wrists”.

He did instantly, always listening to you.

The wound was still bleeding, and you silently cursed at yourself for not having more resources to care for him but every time you’d care for his wounds after a mission recently, it had been at the facility. “What did they do to you?” your words were only a whisper, a question more for yourself as the panic began to set in. 

Glancing up into his eyes, you found that he had passed out again, allowing you to call someone. Easing one hand off of the wound, quickly unlocking your phone and selecting the first name to pop up, it answers within two rings.

“It’s not even been two hours yet, that’s not enough time-” Sam tried to joke on the other end of the line but you had to cut him off.

“He’s here”.

Sam paused for a second like he didn’t quite understand what you’d said. 

“What? What do you mean he’s there-”

“I mean, what I said Sam! He’s here, passed out on the floor and he's injured sam, I need some help, please!”

“Ok, ok I’ll get the medics to go to your apartment, I’ll head there now as well.”

“Wait Sam, that’s not the only thing. He’s not- He’s not Bucky”.

“Shit.” Sam cursed loudly.

“I can’t have them taking him away again”, you needed the medics but the risk of the Winter Soldier waking up in a room full of strangers was only bound to end in danger.

“They won’t take him away sweetheart, I’ll contact Shuri, it’ll be ok, we’ll sort out a plan.”

And this is exactly what they did. Turning up in force, you rushed to grab the equipment, ignoring the guns that were being pointed at Bucky.

“No one touches him but me, do you all understand?” Everyone agreed, Sam thankfully then turned up and was able to have the guns pointed somewhere than where you were. Eventually, it was decided that they would sedate him which was probably the best option compared to being on guard with guns. Even on transfer to the facility where he would heal, you stayed by his side, cleaning his wounds and suturing a few gashes. After all the scans and investigations, it was determined that other than the stab wound, he had a broken wrist, cracked three ribs, several fingernails missing and head to toe, covered in bruises, cuts and grazes and IV lines were giving him pain medication and antibiotics, he looked a mess.

He had stayed sedated for another day, allowing his body to try and heal. Sam had attempted to send you home once more, but in the end, you had agreed to change into some cream joggers and a t-shirt and then made a little nest next to his bed in the most comfortable chair available.

You’d dozed in your chair for a couple of hours, waking up to find Sam standing behind you but luckily no one else was, the armed guards currently waiting outside as the sedation was wearing off. 

This wasn’t the only precaution and even after arguing about it for hours, they still placed, large cuffs across his body, particularly his metal arm, just in case he woke.

“He’s just gotten out of imprisonment and now he’s back in it”, you mumbled quietly, looking up and down his body.

“It’s not forever, it’s just a precaution”, Sam tried to ease your anxiety, something he seemed to be doing a lot of these days but you were thankful for your friend staying until Bucky woke up.

Leaning across the bed, you held the metal hand, the feeling giving some comfort.

“This feels weird waiting for the Winter Soldier to wake up and you’re just casually there holding his hand.”

Smiling sadly at Sam’s statement, you continued to watch Bucky, or should you be say the Winter Soldier? It was all so confusing, and there was still some hope that it would be Bucky waking up. 

Just as your eyes became heavy, Bucky’s hand suddenly flinched in yours and instantly you were sitting further up on your chair, leaving over him.

“Bucky?” your fingers drifted through his short brunette hair. At first, his eyes didn’t open but he furrowed his brows like he was willing himself to wake up. “It’s ok, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere”, you whispered, leaning in to kiss his forehead, mindful of his injuries. Standing back up, his eyes were now open, staring at you and now it was noticeable that the whites of his eyes were stained with red but at least he could open them properly.

“Buc- … Soldier? How do you feel?” at the near mention of Bucky’s name, the heart rate monitor began to increase in speed so you resorted back to trying to calm him. “You’re safe, it’s ok. Your wounds aren’t healing like they usually would so I’m just keeping a close eye on you.”

“They laced the knives with a special solution”. You’d not expected him to speak so soon, it was gruff from lack of use but his tone was softer than anything the Soldier had ever used.

“What?”

“They bathed the knives in some green solution before cutting me and it’s stopped me from healing.” The sick feeling returned to your stomach with full force, dreading to ever find out what had happened that they had tortured him enough for the Winter Soldier to come out.

“You’re healing well now though which is the main thing. It just might have to be at the same rate as us normal lot”.

Leaning forward once more, your lips softly kissed his temple, fingers still coming through his hair. The sound of his shackles shaking had you looking down at his hands, he’d tried to reach for you too but had been restricted. The Asset also looked down in confusion as to why he was being chained up but his eyes didn’t even glance at the straps, instead, he saw Sam at the end of his bed.

“Soldier, it’s fine, they’re friendly, they just want to help you.”

This wasn’t enough for him, the heart rate spiking to a dangerous level as his muscles struggled against the cuffs, his body straining as he tried to escape. “Calm down Soldier, listen to me Buck-Soldier, stop please, it’s safe!”

It was no use as the more he struggled, the more the guards were getting antsy and before long they were entering the room and pointing their guns at him. Sam began shouting now but that made no difference as the Asset had ripped his arms out of the shackles and the other cuffs were like pieces of string, easily ripped off.

“Point your guns somewhere else! Please get out, I don’t want him to hurt you”, it was complete and utter chaos, you were sure your heart was beating as fast as the one displayed on the monitor. “Stop pulling them out, they are there to help you”, you shouted at the Soldier as he ripped the IVs out of his arm and detached himself from the monitors. 

In the next second, his metal arm was gripping around your middle as he raced out of the bed, staggering slightly with his injuries but that didn’t deter him from pushing you into the corner, standing in front with only his hospital gown on. 

Now you were even more confused. The Winter Soldier was the world’s most dangerous assassin and on many occasions, he had killed to protect you but here he was, not making that step to kill anyone, simply just standing in front of you, being a barrier between the guns and your person.

“Everyone needs to stop this, now!” Sam shouted, holding his hands out in front of the guards.

Placing your hand in the middle of the Soldier’s back, you tried to speak to him, “you- you don’t need to protect me from these people, they are your friends Soldat”.

“I know who they are”, he revealed, looking at Sam now. “I’m not the Soldier, not to the fullest extent. I still have my mind but he’s there at the forefront, I want to kill you all but not because I’ve been ordered to but because I need to protect- WE, need to protect her but I can’t get through to him that you’re safe to be around.”

“Oh Bucky”, you muttered, laying your forehead against his back for a second, savouring his warmth before standing on your tip toes to look over his shoulder. “Please can you leave us for a moment, even if it's just outside the door, I just need you all to leave us”.

It took some stern words from Sam and arguments before they relented and exited, with Sam giving a final nod before thankfully closing the door, leaving the two of you in peace.

“Sit down before you hurt yourself anymore”, you encouraged Bucky as he held onto the stab wound, turning to face where you stood in the corner of the room. Your breaths were coming out in quick bursts, as your eyes flicked between his two confused ones.

Lifting his metal hand, he gently cupped your cheek which you thankfully grabbed, holding it there, having never been more grateful for a moment until now.

“You look sad, and you haven’t been eating properly”, he uttered, looking across your face.

Brushing away his hands, “Yes well, I’m going to be pissed if you don’t get into this bed right now!”

“Yes ma’am” he retorted with the sarcastic tone you’d grown so fond of. Bucky grunted as he eased himself into bed, brushing away the mess left behind by the destroyed cuffs. 

As you began to sit in your seat, he requested, “lie with me”.

“Nice try Barnes but there will be no lying with you, not on that tiny bed, now lie back and heal”. It sounded like you were chastising a child but it was for his own good, the stubborn man.

At the mention of the name Barnes, his eye twitched slightly before rolling his neck and settling back into the pillows. Even though you would lie with him, you still sat as close as you could, holding his flesh hand which was covered in bandages.

“What did they do to you?”

“You don’t want to know Doll”.

He never hid anything from you, maybe it was for the best that he didn’t give you the details whilst everything was so fresh for him.

“Explain to me what you meant that he was in your mind, so you’re Bucky… but you aren’t?”

“Sort of. I think it got to a point where something snapped in my subconscious and he came out but I mean, it worked. His ruthless aggression was just the push I needed to snap my wrist out of the chains and get me or us- out of there”.

You weren’t sure what to say so he continued his explanation. “I have enough control not to kill them lot out there, but he’s still in here, lingering, ready to kill if needs be”, he pointed at his head.

“Well I’m very glad you didn’t kill poor Sam, he just about shit himself”.

Bucky laughed but then winched, gripping his fractured ribs.

“So what do you want to do now? I think Shuri is coming here”.

“That’s probably for the best, it would be nice not to want to kill my friends. I do ask one thing of you though, don’t leave my side”.

Your heart broke at the sincere note to his tone, tears threatening to spill enough that you had to look away from him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset”, Bucky tried to sit up to comfort you but you were quick to push his shoulders back into the pillows, moving to now sit on the edge of his bed, cupping his cheek as he continued his explanation. “I just meant, that if you weren’t here, I can already feel how agitated he is thinking about it. What I’m getting at is for everyone’s safety, don’t leave the Winter Soldier. You’re going to have to just deal with us overbearing pair for a little bit, that’s also why we came straight home rather than a hospital”.

“I think I can deal with that for a little while longer”, finally you were able to grin and truly mean it, leaning in to kiss his lips softly.

It was only a second long but he was already trying to deepen it which caused the pain to flare in his face.

You laughed sitting away from him, “you need to heal first Romeo, both of you do”.

Bucky’s eyes softened, before revealing, “he’s missed you. I’ve missed you”.

“I’ve missed you both too, my overprotective murderer”, you joke, kissing his bandaged hand. At this point, Bucky’s eyes had begun to become heavy, dropping slightly. “Get some rest, I’ll be here when you wake up.

“You better me, otherwise I’m killing everyone in that hallway, Солнышко”.

A/N: Солнышко - little sun. I must admit that I used google to find the translation so apologies if this isn't correct.

[meoproject]

Yeah. Well. Val knows Beriith is tall compared to her, but she lacked context as to how tall Beriith is compared other members of his race. And. Hm. Yeah. Beriith is tall, even compared to his own kind. Not, like, unnaturally so? but tall enough for other goets to note it as a significant feature of his.

I also never draw Val's and Beriith's actual height difference unless it's a full body picture :') she's just lunking around several Scully boxes so she can fit in the frame better.

(the map also isn't a representation of any region in the story/world, i haven't made any maps for the world so i had to whip up something map-like for this piece.)

(also Goet language isnt like. a real conlang and not even a real cipher, its just nonsense, i should redo the font too.)

BONUS!

One significant Beriith feature that I can't really convey well is that he speaks with a noticeable accent. I've thought about phonetic accents a lot (thanks to another of my projects which has a character with severe speech impediment of not having lips) and since the balance of fun and annoying is quite delicate, I don't really write them out unless I really have to, and even then I'd downplay it. Beriith's accent isn't meant to be to thick anyway.

More accent talk under cut for those interested.

If we take "middle common" (the language Val and Beriith speak with each other) to be non-diegetic "English", Beriith has, in comparison, fairly flat intonation, and he trills his Rs and has some trouble with "ng" sounds and Ws, which he generally pronounces more like Vs. He also pronounces "th" sounds leaning towards Zs, which sorta runs into the slight logic bomb of "wait, doesn't his name end in 'th', but the watsonian explanation is, of course, that transliteration of his name from Goet to middle common isn't perfect and the h just implies a sightly softened t sound :) (the doylist explanation is, of course, that I decided the name before figuring out how accents work, but if you explain it away, it's not a mistake, just worldbuilding!)

As mentioned before, Beriith's accent isn't thick or anything, definitely not Hollywood-thick, but everyone who hears him speak either knows where he's from or wants to guess where he's from (though you can know but looking at him, Goets are distinct enough, but you know what I mean.)

Val, by the way, speaks the most generic middle common imaginable, like only a step or two below news casters; that's by design (of her parents). They sent her (and her siblings) to a school that specifically taught middle-common without any strong regional accents to give her the most easily-understood accent imaginable. Her family are big into business, mostly in export/import, so her parents figured out having children with neutral, easy to understand, "trustworthy" way of speaking would be the best. Yes, this means Val's parents have a completely different accent than she does, and Val speaks their variation of Elvish with a middle common accent. It does cause some bitterness, Val is kinda... not okay with it, but since her studies are all in middle common anyway it's kinda... whatever, not good but could be worse, but her younger sister is especially upset with not really knowing Elvish that well.

Val is fluent in three languages, middle common, high common (it's occasionally used as a language of magic studies, it's kind of an older version of middle common, or rather a version that has more in common with the older version of the language and branched out a bit differently) and Elvish. Beriith is fluent in like five languages and conversational in several more and "can sort of understand" in many more.

(this wasnt the vignette i was talking about earlier but i needed to get this out of my system.)

[bulkyphrase]

Steve Rogers + Hydra Trash Party: A Valentine's Day Rec List

Happy Valentine's Day! There's nothing more romantic to me than absolutely terrible things happening to my favorite fictional men, so please enjoy this list of all my Steve-centric HTP faves.

I know these are not for everyone, so this first fic is a cute story where Hydra accidentally turns themselves into cephalopods:

The Better to Hug You With by Lauralot (@lauralot89) (General Audiences | 1,740 words | No Archive Warnings Apply)

Summary: As he's stepping off the Metro, Steve catches a glimpse of waving tentacles in his peripheral vision. An octopus is wriggling onto the platform. He's entering the Triskelion when it happens again: a flash of tentacles in the corner of his eye, this time roping around a filing cabinet. Clearly Steve needs more sleep.

Everything after this is more HTP-typical non-con and violence, so proceed with caution and be sure to check the tags before reading.

[Podfic] A Hostile Work Environment read by sallysparrow017 (Explicit, 45-60 Minutes, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings)

Note: The original has been deleted but at least we still have a great podfic version of this amazing fic

Summary: Podfic of stoatsandwich's 'A Hostile Work Environment' Five times Captain America fantasized about being gang-raped by the STRIKE Team, plus one more.

Blood from a Stone by shinelikethunder (tenlittlebullets) (@shinelikethunder) (Explicit | 23,651 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: Once you passed a certain point in the hierarchy, getting ordered to do shit like lead a gangbang on Captain America was a surprise but not a shock. Fill for a hydratrashmeme prompt requesting a Hydra/Steve gangbang where Steve has been dosed with aphrodisiacs to force him to get off. Or, a trash party dumpster travesty in two acts:Act 1: Steve Rogers: World's Most Defiant Hydra Party FavorAct 2: Post-Rescue Hurt/Comfort: Now With Bonus Steve/Sam Sex Pollen Dubcon Also available as a podfic read by sallysparrow017

Catastrophe (Breeds Strength) by sock_bealady (Explicit | 21,272 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage)

Summary: Not long after the events of Iron Man 3, the Avengers are captured by what they thought were friends. Rumlow promises they won't remember a thing. Steve is starting to hope he's right.

For What it's Worth by throttlegainwell (@throttlegainwell) (Explicit | 11,654 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: When he found the safehouse, after it had been scoured for evidence, he’d personally taken it down to studs. He recognized the room from the tape. What he hadn’t recognized so far was any of the men from the tape. None of them had surfaced, none had been so involved in Project Insight that they hadn’t run for the hills when defeat was on the air. And he knew their faces. He knew them. He knew their ugly jeering voices and their obnoxious laughs and their appendectomy scars and at this point he might even recognize their dicks at a urinal. He’d know them the second he saw them. If he saw them. Part of him hoped that Bucky wouldn’t, but Bucky seemed to remember a lot more than he claimed, so it seemed a stretch too far. As he rather violently found out seven months later, on a side street in Prague at two thirty-three in the morning, it was.

Four Across by justanotherStonyfan (Explicit | 5,728 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: Written for a prompt on the Hydra Trash Meme -So say HYDRA uses the Winter Soldier to seduce people as a spy as well as to assassinate people. Some people like it vanilla, some people like to dominate him - and some people want to be dominated by him. He's conditioned to be dominant when triggered by a certain word or phrase. There's a word/phrase to turn dom!WS off too, but the character of your choice has no idea what it is. They didn't mean to trigger this aspect of the Soldier, they just happened to say the wrong thing.

Give Me Your Filth by Dira Sudis (dsudis) (@dsudis) (Explicit | 15,378 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: "I don't care," Bucky said. "I don't care which one was you and which one was someone else. You're underneath me now. It's my turn. I do things now, and you lie there and take it." This was going to hurt.

I Remembered You Were Mine by hobbitdragon (Explicit | 4,455 words | Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: Steve awakes in a strange place with a familiar face standing over him. He has no idea where he is or how he got there, but at least Bucky is with him. Also available as a podfic read by Tipsy_Kitty (@tipsyxkitty)

Man in the Box by buckybleeds (@buckybleeds) (Explicit | 29,239 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: This is the fic I've been referring to as "the horrible boxfic." Hydra wins and Steve gets put into a put into a sex vending machine in the Strike team locker room.

Mnemosyne by MilesHibernus (Explicit | 6,924 words | Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: Steve's working on dealing with a mission gone wrong when Bucky comes in from the cold.

Salt by throttlegainwell (@throttlegainwell) (Mature | 7,168 words | Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: Memory is inconvenient – for so many reasons, in so many ways. Bucky’d read the books and seen the movies and, frankly, lived the horror show. He knew the misconceptions that people so easily believed. Memories weren’t like movies; they’re not so neat, not so cleanly edited, not so purposeful. They’re just bits of collected and confusingly collated data. Attempting to get around that fact, as had so been the case for the treatment of his mind, was unnatural.

Show You How by justanotherStonyfan (Explicit | 10,567 words | Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: Written for a prompt on the Hydra Trash Meme:Rumlow and Steve have started fooling around sometime shortly before the events of CA: TWS. They've done stuff - they've probably sucked each other off, maybe some fingering, whatever - but Rumlow hasn't actually fucked Steve yet. Steve is still a virgin in the sense of not having had penetrative sex, at least with a dude. Steve is taken into custody, maybe after the bridge fight if they didn't get rescued. He gets taken to whatever horrible gang-bang cell exists in the HYDRA sub-basement with Rumlow and other random thugs. Rumlow says something with super mean fake tenderness like, hey, sorry I've kept you waiting this long to get your cherry popped, but I really wanted it to be the right moment . Which, of course, is going to be right now in front of everybody. Up to the writer if other people then get involved too. Bonus points if Steve isn't particularly naive; he knows there's stuff Rumlow isn't telling him or maybe even that he's being played in some way, but obviously doesn't know the extent of it and is enjoying the sex and the general human contact/comfort before horrible things start going down.

The Wolf by ipoiledi (@ipoiledi) (Explicit | 5,114 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence)

Summary: So it started that way: a harmless joke.

to burn your kingdom down by glorious_spoon (@glorious-spoon) (Explicit | 12,370 words | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: The Avengers go after a Hydra splinter cell with a nasty habit of brutalizing their prisoners. Steve has some ugly history with them, and when a rescue mission gone wrong leaves him and Sam in enemy hands, the situation gets uglier still.

TsumBody to Love by buckybleeds (@buckybleeds) (Explicit | 7,067 words | Rape/Non-Con)

Summary: *handwavium* Bucky and Steve are now tsum tsums and Brock's gonna fuck 'em and they're going to be sad and squeaky about it.

[pulpandgristle]

I: TANK DUTY

Pilot ID: Dominic Roth, blockade runner of the 14th Compliment of the Greater Sixth Fleet Status: Deceased Cause of Death: Classified ----------------------------------------------------

They lost Dominic to the prototype last night. I want it on the record that it wasn't my fault.

He signed the waivers and I checked him into its tank, sure. Gave him the haptic credentials, opened the thorax, submerged him, but that's just Command borrowing my hands, y'know. That's courtesy.

No, he saw the guts on that thing and he wanted in. God knows why.

It's a fuckin' nightmare to look at—ninety feet from maw to tail, twice the size of his old model. Somehow it's not done growing yet. You're not normally supposed to pilot the gestating units, I guess, but they need intensive training for this one. Said something about how "it needs practice before it can walk".

I told Dom that the prototype was a monster, but he didn't listen. Just like him.

"I'm a killer, man. Won't even need the nerve shackles. Just you watch."

He was braindead before he finished plugging himself in.

Well, his brain worked fine. All of it worked, actually, every synapse at once, firing till they burned out.

It's some kind of feedback loop. A known bug. He's the fourth one to go like that. They left him in there; pilots on synaptic overclock are live wires, so you can't touch 'em without getting yourself fried too. Command calls those "daisy chains".

The prototype can filter your remains out of the cockpit if they tell it to. That's how they cleaned him out, apparently, cuz he was gone when I came back the day after. That thing turned him to slurry and let its kidneys handle him. Dominic Roth, pride of the Septarchy, ground down into fuckin' guano.

Serves him right. Pompous bastard.

It's almost done gestating. Only has five or six more eyes left that haven't opened yet. Command did a biopsy on one, and they sent me pictures.

The pupils are weird Ws. Same as a cuttlefish. The irises come off in these ribbons on all the contours, like a bike's spokes, crossing over each other till there's no white left. Kinda hard to figure out how it makes ya feel. My dad locked eyes with a whale on one of the wombworlds once. It's probably close to that.

The color was the craziest thing. Hazel, with little blue spots. Like Dom's.

Command took me to the prototype's next inspection and I asked 'em how that happened. They said it didn't matter. I knew better than to push things, but they could tell I had doubts. So I played along for a bit.

"Hell of a thing, isn't it?" The prototype, not Dom turning into guano. Unremarkable, that.

Holloway was there, the Primarch, vetting the next batch of waiver-signers and admiring his baby. The rest of Command still had the scalpels in their hands. Fuckin' vampires.

"Expediently," Holloway said. "Beyond expectations, in fact."

He sounded venomous. Scornful. He frowned and scraped some tarry placenta shit off his gloves while the sentence fell out of his mouth. His idea of a joke.

I laughed, played it off. "Did it at least get good practice?"

Dom's C.O. was there. He still had the probe from the optical biopsy: a big, wet needle on a pneumatic armature, obsidian-tipped to pierce the cornea, three feet long and thick as a fuckin' pencil. He just nodded.

"Yes," he said. "She learned very much."

[imjustthatbad]

The Ending We Won’t Get:

A/N: FIRST AND MOST IMPORTANT THERE IS MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND BEING CHAINED UP (not in the fun way) if that bothers you please do not read. Anywho… This is my first attempt at this kind of fanfic so please if you read this go hard on me. I did it without an editor and in the middle of the night but I needed a conclusion to this story so I’m making one. There will be some creative direction on my part but mostly trying to stick with what I have researched. Please give a read and let me know if it’s something you want me to continue. If Netflix won’t fucking save our Warrior Nun then gods damnit I will do my best to. From here on out all A/N will be at the end and I’ll add T/Ws at the top. Hope you enjoy this fellow warrior nuns.

——————

Chapter One: Dancing With Your Ghost

… A week after Adriel’s defeat…

“Have a good night Hans, remember to push the specials.”

“Alright Beatrice, have a good night and let me know if you hear from her.”

The air was cold and the rain bit her skin through her shirt as she walked from the bar back to her home above the butcher’s. She wasn’t sure what made her return to the Alps. Maybe because that’s where she was happiest, maybe because that’s what she wanted, maybe because she hoped that Ava would walk through that door any second. It’s been a week and that hasn’t happened and her hope dwindled more and more with each passing moment. As she approached the door to their…her…apartment she paused for a moment. Pushing back the hope that maybe if she opened the door she’d be greeted by the woman who she had once shared it with. She closed her eyes as she pushed the door open and once she heard the door gently hit the wall she slowly opened her eyes and… Empty. To be expected but most definitely not wanted.

She sighed and walked in, locking the door behind her. She crossed the small apartment and turned her kettle on before looking into her apartment. Nothing had changed since she and Ava had last left it. The bed meticulously made something Ava used to make fun of her for.

“It’s just going to get unmade Bea, you really don’t need to make it. I swear you can take the nun out of the Cat’s Cradle but you can’t take the Cat’s Cradle out of the nun.”

“Well, you live under the scrutiny of Mother Superion for a majority of your life and tell me not to make this bed. Besides, it helps you stay out of it till it’s time to sleep.”

“Trust me, I’ve spent enough time in a bed that I don't need any motivation to stay out of one. Well unless it involves having se..”

“..I get the point! …I’m still making this bed, now will you help please.”

“Yes mother.”

The sound of thunder pulled her from the memory far too soon. She shook her head and entered the bedroom pulling fresh clothes from the dresser and changing into warmer, less soaked clothes. Her timing was perfect as she pulled her sweatshirt down just as the kettle began to whistle. She watched the rain fall from a window in the apartment slowly sipping on her tea and attempting to relax. Being free from the obligations of being a warrior nun was still very new, she always had the pull to do something. Train, study, guide others, learn new things, help everyone with anything but now, now was just for her. An attempt at a normal life she had never had. At just being Beatrice. It felt weird, she felt wrong but “It’s still new, it’ll get easier.” Camilla had assured her a five days prior during a surprise phone call. She hadn’t wanted to lose all her friends and kept in contact when she could but at the same time she wanted to be alone. Wanted to start over. In this life or the next didn’t necessarily mean you had to die to get a second chance.

She watched the rain fall for several minutes, finishing her drink before starting her night time ritual. Same as it’s always been; shower, brush teeth, brush hair, get dressed, and pray. She knows she doesn’t have the obligation to do that last bit anymore but it made her feel less…she wasn’t sure but it helped. She walked to the couch and got under the blankets. She hadn’t gotten the courage to sleep in their bed yet. She let the soft sounds of rain and thunder lull her to sleep.

“Oh Bea…”

She opened her eyes and saw her, the small yet strong brunette kneeling next to her a soft yet sad smile on her face.

“Bea…what are you doing? Why are you gone? Where are you?”

Her eyes fluttered with confusion, she felt her eyebrows pull together as she tried to sit up but found that she was unable to move.

“Ava? Ava! Ava I can’t..I can’t move, are you okay? How are you here? What happened?”

She felt Ava’s hand run down the side of her face as she cupped her chin. She desperately wanted to pull Ava into her but when she tried to move her arms she felt the pull of metal on her wrists. Looking down she saw that she was chained to the ground.

“Ava, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

A singular tear ran down Ava’s face, did she look older? More weathered?

“I’m fine Bea, but why are you gone? Where have you run off too? You’re going to miss all the fun.”

She watched as Ava’s eyes got darker, the singular tear slowly turning black. Her voice sounded lower and harsher, like she had been screaming for years without pause. Beatrice pulled hard against the chains, she felt the all too familiar feeling of skin ripping on her wrists as her binds cut into her but she didn’t stop trying.

“Ava! What do you mean? Where are you? What’s going on? Ava please..please help me so I can help you! I miss you so much, please let me help you.”

Ava stood, her eyes continuing to darken, a dark purple light emitting from her back. The halo? No the halo is golden it doesn’t shine purple that’s impossible there’s been no mention of it ever turning purple or any other color. She pulled against the chains again, she felt a give and Ava must’ve heard it too, her focus moving from Beatrice’s face to her wrists.

“Nothing can save her now, she’s under my control. Nothing can stop my halo bearer.”

That’s not Ava’s voice but it’s not Adriel’s voice either. Who’s speaking through her? She pulled harder on the chains and felt her left arm break free and she reached out to Ava but she wasn’t fast enough. Ava side stepped and began laughing but it wasn’t her light and airy laugh Beatrice had come to love. It was someone else. This wasn’t Ava. It was her body but she’s not in control.

“So close, yet so far. We will find you, we don’t like loose ends. This war will be won by the superior army and nothing will stop us.”

Ava’s body begin fade as if she was phasing and right as Beatrice’s right arm was freed she was gone in a puff of smoke.

“AVA!”

Her eyes popped open as she quickly sat up, hearing herself scream for Ava. She stood up quickly and looked around getting her bearings. She saw her apartment, the made bed, the small night light tha Ava liked to keep on next to it. It took her a moment to convince herself it was all just a dream, no night a dream. A nightmare. She covered her face with her hands and took a deep breath.

“It was just a dream, nothing more.”

She assured herself and laid back down but as she laid back down and pulled the blankets back over her she noticed it. Her wrists, bruised but not bloody. As if she had been chained days ago and she was slowly healing from it. But that’s impossible. It was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

[women-are-hot]

6 for Lina Magull please

“I think you’re forgetting something…” - (Prompt List 5)

As Lina gave her teammate, Sydney, a high five, after they had won the semi final against France, Sydney had a little surprise for Lina.

“Lina, I have a surprise for you,” Sydney said.

“What is it?” Lina asked, confused.

“Look behind you at the crowd” Sydney answered.

“O-okay” Lina said and turned around.

Then Lina’s eyes meet someone she didn’t think could be here.

“Y/n? Is that really Y/n?” Lina asked Sydney.

“Yes silly. Now go get your girl” Sydney answered and pushed Lina towards Y/n’s direction.

Lina then tried not to look too excited as she walked quickly over to Y/n.

“Why are you here?” Lina asked as she took Y/n into her arms in a tight hug.

“What a way to say hi to your injured girlfriend that traveled all the way from Germany only to see you” Y/n answered with a smile.

Lina just rolled her eyes.

“Sorry. I just can't believe that you’re here” Lina said as she then looked into her favorite person's eyes.

“Well, believe it babe” Y/n replied with a light chuckle.

The couple then talked about how their cats and dogs ws treating Y/n at home.

“I think you’re forgetting something…” Lina suddenly said.

“What do you mean? What have I forgotten?” Y/n asked.

Lina then leaned forward.

“A kiss…” she whispered.

“Didn’t you want to stay private?” Y/n asked in a low voice.

“Not anymore. I want the world to know that I have the best girlfriend in the universe” Lina asked.

Y/n didn’t need to hear anymore as she smashed her lips into Lina’s.

Out of nowhere, there came what felt like a million cameras.

“Ich liebe dich” Lina whispered against Y/n’s lips.

“Ich liebe dich auch” Y/n whispered back.

[kotaka-kun]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

saw @middleearthpixie doing this and I wanted to do it too :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

249 works

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

380,279 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Most recently I’ve been writing for Phantom of the Opera and Love Never Dies, but according to my AO3 dashboard, I’ve posted fics for just under 40 fandoms and naming them all seems excessive... That being said, my top five are Lord of the Rings, Phantom, MCU (mostly Captain America), Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Harry Potter. 

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. thank you for the food (ATLA, zukka, Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Modern AU) 2. Simple Happiness (ATLA, zukka, Fluff, Living Together, Modern AU) 3. Bucky has a belly kink, but Steve doesn’t mind in the least (MCU, stucky, ABO, Belly Kink, Pregnancy Kink) 4. Surprise (MCU, stucky, ABO, mpreg, Birth, Twins) 5. New Colors (One Piece, zosan, Fluff, Color Blindness, Gifts)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do try, though I know I’ve missed a few over the years... but I do love and treasure every single comment I get!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’d have to say that it’s probably a tie between The Worst Thing (MCU, Steve/Bucky, omegaverse, infertility, miscarriage) and overboard (LOTR, Frodo/Sam, trauma, depression, suicide attempt)

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

Hard to say, since aside from the two mentioned above, I write mostly fluffy happy endings... 

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Thankfully, no. But maybe that just means I need to write more divisive fics? 

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

I do write smut, and it’s probably mostly -- if not all -- omegaverse tbh... 

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

I love love love writing crossovers! I think they’re fun and silly and a good time all around. Don’t know if I have one that’s significantly crazier than the rest, but I think i read the hobbit (in 1937 when it first came out) is one of my favorites to think about. I’ve got a soft spot for ws!Bucky is all. Putting him in Middle Earth and adding him to the Fellowship was just for funsies :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of...

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! A reader translated New Colors into Chinese, which was super neat!

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

Absolutely, 100% -- in the sense of collaboratively plotting out and writing a story, as well as taking turns in an improvised narrative style RP, and also something in between where the premise of a fic was agreed upon and each of us had characters to write, RP style. 

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t think I can pick a singular ship to label as my favorite... I’d call Zoro/Sanji my OTP, but only because they were the first ship I got involved in fandom for -- I haven’t read a fic of them in years. I’m reading almost exclusively Erik/Christine fics right now, but I’ve come across Erik/Raoul fics that have made me fall in love with them, as well as Erik/Raoul/Christine fics that are so so good... I guess in terms of longevity and my ability to always come back to them, Steve/Bucky has been a solid ship for me? 

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

Gonna go with Zoro’s Promise, since it’s the only multichapter fic I never bothered to move from FF dot net to AO3. It’s literally been ten years since I updated it lmao

16. What are your writing strengths?

On one hand, I guess my ADHD-fueled hyperfixation that allows me to write fic after fic could be considered a strength...?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

On the other hand, as soon as my ADHD-fueled hyperfixation loses its vice grip on me, I lose all motivation to write. Especially if I’ve already written out the scenes that I had in my head, I become incapable of filling in the gaps and making it a cohesive fic... I honestly don’t think I have very good writing hygiene even after taking classes on being better about being a hobby writer oops 

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

I personally tend to avoid writing in another language, because I think it’s hard to do well. Sometimes it takes you out of the fic because you have to copy-paste it into Google Translate to figure out what they’re saying, sometimes it takes you out of the fic because you speak the language and the author evidently doesn’t and they used Google Translate. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First fandom I wrote fic for and then posted would be One Piece... but in actuality, I’ve been writing fanfiction from long before I knew that’s what it was called. I was probably in second or third grade when I wrote self-insert Peter Pan fics. Also Shrek fics. I don’t have the notebooks I wrote them in anymore, but I have a very vivid memory of writing them.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

This is maybe the hardest question of all to answer, because while I like a lot of my fics, I don’t know that there’s one that I could call my favorite. My current WIP stranger than you dreamt it (PotO, Erik/Christine, ABO) is one I’m excited to keep working on because, well, omegaverse. But also time and time again (LOTR, Frodo/Sam, Time Travel, Fix-it) was one of the first multi chapter fics I’ve actually finished, so in that regard I’m rather proud of it. I liked the time-travel-y premise of it as well. And even though what comes after (HP, Snape/Harry, Time Travel, Fix-it) is still technically a WIP, I’m still pleased with how it’s coming along... though it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated it oops

tagging... you! 🫵 if you're an author, i'm tagging u! i want to know about what you write!!!

[giraffeinthebathtub]

My five Ws and an H and a Ż

In every good newspaper lead there should be an answer to the five W questions. Every journalist knows it.

I am not a good journalist, and neither a journalist even, but I think it a good idea on how to introduce myself - a lead of sorts of this blog. And those five essential questions are sure worth answering.

Treat this post as an artistic statement, public one too, personal even and maybe a little bit of political? We will find out soo enough.

Who?

A Polish lad with head full of stories characters and visions that torment him both during the mundane and exciting. A tormented soul but a potent one. A game designer. A programmer. A baker.

What?

Writing. Writing. And writing. I was always obsessed with it. Mostly for the first couple pages, then I got tired and gave up. But hopefully won't give up know.

Game design and development. Making my own effort to entertain and amaze.

When?

Only when I am the most uncomfortable, restless, supposed to be sleeping or getting some work done. And when the finals draw near.

Where?

From everywhere and that is mainly airports, buses, cars, trains, waiting rooms, work, bike seat (probably illigal), toilets (probably too much information) and occasionally from hell.

Why?

Because it is time to take my brain and make a little hole so it will not explode and maybe, just maybe it can serve as an archive of my insanity that will be studied by psychologists in a hundred years. (totally not the main reason)

.

.

.

And as I have also teased an H, I feel the need to explain that it should also appear in the lead of a story - but only slightly. A good journalist knows how to grip the reader with their H.

My How?

Short stories. Snippets. Opinions. Questions - both open ended and closed. Just anything that comes to my mind and future me will judge it as deserving the digital immortality.

I will not be fake, I don't like being fake and don't like following the trends. I will sometimes write stuff that can challage some ideals. Not doubting and not questioning the world around us makes us blind. I will not be blind. But it does not mean I don't welcome conversation. Ask me anything, challage me, I seek minds brighter than mine.

So that is it. Me and my mission. I will make sure to make myself uncomfortable, to question everything, subvert my expectations and grow. And you can watch this dumpster fire. For free.

And the Ż?, you are probably asking. Well the Ż stands for Żaba. A frog. The first protagonist of my little Book Of Lies. Curious? Well I won't hear nor read the answer so just stay tuned and see the story unfold.

Thank you for reading and hope you will stay here a while. But don't forget, I will tell you only lies.

[creature-wizard]

The thing about "conviction in one's own understanding" is that it's all around horrible for helping you obtain and hold a reasonable grip on reality. It's extremely ineffective at stopping people from internalizing bad info, and it also prevents them from absorbing good info. So here's the deal: conviction is a feeling. It makes you perceive yourself as right and just, regardless of whether you actually are. Now the thing is, it's impossible to know just how much we don't know, and people who feel like they know more are usually the ones who know very little. This is called the Dunning-Kruger effect. Everyone has gaps in their knowledge that they aren't aware of, and the thing about a lot of wrong info is that it aims to fill a gap you don't even know you have. Let's use flat earth, for example. To the average person, the whole idea feels really ridiculous - key word, feels. This isn't because they have a solid grasp on how the evidence points to a round Earth, or because they fully understand how we obtained that evidence. They just know it's round because it's what they were told, and it's what everyone else believes. This means that a flat earth believer can come in and ask, "yeah, but how do you know? I mean, you know what you've been told and you know what everyone else believes, but how do you know?" And then they stop and think about it, and they realize... actually, they really don't know. They begin to realize that they have massive gaps in their knowledge. Their conviction, which up to this point felt unassailable, is now critically shaken, and the conspiracy theorist can move in and fill these gaps with a lot of incredibly wrong information that this person has no way to evaluate right now. And you might think, "well, they can just evaluate it later-" but no, that probably won't happen, and here's why. So our average person here - we're going to call them Jamie - feels like their mind is being expanded. This information is completely novel, and it's huge. Jamie gets a big dopamine rush, which makes everything they're hearing feel super deep and profound. The whole time, the conspiracy theorist is explaining how they don't want people like Jamie to know the truth, and that all of the history books, science books, etc. have been written or edited by in on the conspiracy, or at least brainwashed by it. With these seeds of mistrust planted, Jamie is very unlikely to try and debunk the flat earther's claims. Now Jamie has a new conviction - that the world is flat and there's a massive conspiracy dedicated to covering it up. And this time, Jamie's conviction is backed up by massive amounts of information that appear to provide lots and lots historical context. The more Jamie internalizes the worldview of a conspiracy theorist, the more Jamie sees evidence of the conspiracy everywhere, and the more Jamie's conviction grows. Conspiracy theorists have conviction up the wazoo. What's far more important than having conviction is being willing to recognize and acknowledge when the evidence doesn't actually stack in favor of your belief. This is what the vast majority of conspiracy theorists lack, and is the main reason they remain conspiracy theorists. Instead of learning actual critical thinking skills, they simply get better at rationalizing things away. Another thing you need? The Five Ws - Who, What, When, Where, and Why. Find out who started claiming shit and find out exactly what they said. Examine the politics and prejudices common in the place and time they lived, and observe where their claims align with those. Find out why they were so invested in putting this stuff out there - what did they stand to gain from it? (There's always something to gain, even when it seems like there's nothing to gain.)

[kittybells-writes]

AO3 Masterpost

Your guide to everything I've written & posted on AO3!

I will define its rating with the color that matches for example. if my fic is rated E, it will be colored as such. due to not having access to yellow anymore for some reason, blue is now teen rated.

as of right now, all of my non-yellowjackets fics are posted so that you need an account to see them, due to the ai scrapers.

sorted by fandom, alphabetically, if it shares a fandom I will put the secondary fandom in brackets before the genre. things that aren't smut/pwp will be given a genre after the title that'll be in parentheses!

I will also put pairings in {these brackets} for relationships, both platonic and romantic/sexual, defined by the & and / tagging system on ao3.

Beetlejuice

one is the loneliest number [Wednesday] (fluff)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

make me move like a freak {Faith/Buffy}

alley way play {Vamp!Willow/Faith}

D.E.B.S. (2004)

a kinky kidnapping {Amy/Lucy}

Doki Doki Literature Club

I hear your heart beat beat to the beat of the drums {Natsuki/Sayori}

I'm so hot I'd fuck myself {Monika/Monika}

Five Nights at Freddy's

join us and die [Hatchetfieldverse] (hurt/no comfort)

Heathers

veronica gets a motorbike and rides up to seattle {Veronica/Chandler} (some plot)

Scream

fear and panic in the air, I want to be free

I might kill my ex {Billy/Reader}

Spider Verse

I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you from the inside {Miguel/Reader}

let me go home, I'm too far away from where you are, I wanna come home (fluff/angst) {Gwen & Miles}

sweet little unforgettable thing {Miguel/Reader}

Stranger Things

darling you're so pretty it hurts {Chrissy/Robin}

"do not enter" is written on the doorway (hurt/comfort)

eleven is bleeding (hurt/comfort?)

hellfur club (angst/hurt/comfort) {Steve/Eddie}

I can see clearly, now the rain is gone (hurt/comfort)

I tried to find a cure for the pain (hurt/comfort)

I've been hiding these feelings for so long (self discovery, fluff, hurt/comfort)

I will always write back {Steve/Eddie}

strip truth or truth {Chrissy/Robin}

tw: gay (bonding/fluff!)

you're the first to fight, I know something's wrong (hurt/comfort)

The Sex Life of College Girls

don't cry, don't cry [T] {Tatum/Leighton} (angst)

I'm breaking the habit tonight {Alicia/Leighton} (angst) Wednesday

I love my dog as much as I love you {Wednesday & Enid) (agere/fluff)

cry me a river {Wednesday & Enid) (hurt/comfort)

I'll hold your hand if you want me to {Xavier & Tyler} (hurt/comfort)

Yellowjackets (2021)

a light in the crack between your thighs {Lottie/Nat}

all along there was some invisible string {Jackie & Shauna} (fluff?)

all the other girls are thinner, so she makes you skip dinner {Jackie & Shauna} (hurt/comfort)

baby it's halloween, and we could be anything {Lottie/Nat} (fluff)

better run faster than the bullet {Van & Nat} (hurt/comfort)

big doe eyed, amazing {Jackie/Shauna} (petplay)

did you miss me? oh come and kiss me {Jackie/Shauna}

for you, there'll be no more crying; for you, the sun will be shining {Jackie & Shauna} (fluff)

help me find myself {Jackie & Nat} (fluff?)

hold me up, tie me down {Lottie/Nat} (fluff??/nx kink)

I apologize for skipping any tracks, it's just the last guy that played me left a couple cracks {Jackie & Shauna} (hurt/comfort)

I can't really explain it, I'm so into you {Jackie/Shauna}

I can't remember to forget you {Jackie & Shauna} (hurt/no comfort)

I'd throw a thousand parties and never be sorry if you'd walk through my door {Lottie/Nat} (fluff)

if it feels good it can't be bad {Lottie/Nat/Everyone?} (adult tl)

I gave your boyfriend cunnilingus on my couch {Shauna/Nat} (t4t) I like how you look when you really beg {Lottie/Nat} (ws)

I'll dance with my hands above my head {Crystal/Misty Quigley}

I'm coming home {Jackie/Shauna} (fluff)

I'm feeling sexual, so we should be sexual {Nat/Misty}

in the land of gods and monsters, you were an angel {Lottie/Nat}

it's not my fault you're like in love with me [T] {Jackie/Shauna} (drama, slow burn)

I wanna get in trouble, I wanna start a fight {Shauna/Lottie} (angst)

I want you all to myself {Lottie/Nat}

I wish I knew you wanted me {Lottie/Shauna + Jackie/Shauna} (hurt/no comfort)

I would take a bullet for you just to prove my love, only to find out you are the one holding the gun {Jackie & Shauna} (hurt/comfort)

jet set bonnie and clyde {Van/Tai} (additional angst)

know it's for the better {Nat/Lottie} (angst)

like real people do {Jackie/Shauna} (angst)

long story short I survived {Lottie/Nat} (adult tl porn w feelings)

losing sleep every night, keep trying to cover my eyes {Lottie} (agere hurt/no comfort)

love became the high that's the drug and not the pill {Lottie & Nat} (whump)

love you to the moon and to saturn {Shauna & Callie} (hurt/comfort)

now the pain is for pleasure, 'cause nothing can measure {Shauna/Jackie/Lottie}

on her knees like religion {Lottie/Nat} (a/b/o)

one hour, two bottles and straight to the hotel {Lottie/Nat} (ws)

to me, you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny {Lottie/Shauna} (emotions?)

we were built to fall apart {Lottie/Laura Lee} (angst, adult tl)

when I think about you I touch myself {Tai/Van + Misty?)

why don't you lay down and sleep, shauna {Lottie & Shauna / Shauna & Jackie} (hurt/no comfort)

wish you were here right now, all of the things I'd do {Jackie/Nat} (phone sex)

you drew stars around my scars {Lottie/Nat or Lottie & Nat} (fluff/agere)

you wanna fuck me right now, you wanna see me on my knees {Jackie/Shauna}

[f1-disaster-bi]

I just saw your send me asks post and I come bearing two ideas. Just choose which one you like more or none or both whichever rocks your fancy! I've just rediscovered your disabled lando au with Jenson and Seb as parents and it sounds so good! Do you have any more ideas for it? Maybe something where Lando experiences a setback when he's a bit older after he just got through quite a serious case of pneumonia and is still incredibly weak. Or on a happier note, Lando's first race where he can watch it with his dads and being a complete gremlin but so so loved by all the staff and drivers. The second idea is neurodivergent Lando: I don't know whether you would be interested or comfortable writing this but I really like your writing and would love to hear your thoughts. So I think racing would be his passion and when training and in the car he would always feel at peace and the most himself, but there are many aspects connected to f1 that he really struggles with. The constant swarm of people as well as the loud noises constantly. So I think noise-cancelling headphones and someone he knows close by (Jon my beloved) is a must. Also, Lando saying in interviews that he often wears sunglasses, even inside because he finds it too bright or always wearing hoodies because the material and fit feel a lot better to him. There are days where his sensory issues are less and days when they are a lot more prominent and I just love the idea of trainer/big brother Jon being the biggest support through everything and especially someone Lando trust wholeheartedly even when he doesn't feel good and his anxiety is bleeding through.

I absolutely adore the second idea, but it's been so long since I've gotten to think about of explore my foster child Lando/Disabled Lando au that I just can't not think about it now!

I hope these two ideas were what you were referring to ( one and two) what you were think of.

Lando having some complications as he grows older from the car accident when he was two that took his leg. Especially after how the orphange he was at often failed to bring him for check up's, so when Seb and Jenson adopt him when he's five-turning-six, they make sure to keep on top of everything. That's when they find out that Lando has some issues with his lungs because of the crash, and they often find themselves back in the doctor with colds and sore throats so they never turn into something worse

But when Lando is a little older, maybe ten, he starts to realise that people look down on him because of his prostetic leg. He realises other kids make fun of how he walksh and runs, how he gets so sick sometimes, and he just wants to be normal. He wants to be healthy, so when he starts to get a cough after going swimming with his class and someone dunking him under water a few times, Lando tries to hide it.

Seb and Jenson notice something is wrong but they think maybe it's the start of his pre-teen moodiness that he doesn't want to cuddle and watch movies or hang out with them in the evenings. They notice he's a little pale, but Lando brushes them off.

And then Lando collapses on the way out the door to school one day and Sebastian is in bits. Jenson was already gone for the gym, and Seb was doing drop off and he ends up calling Jenson from the hospital in a panic because "we missed it, he was in pain and we missed it". He'd feel so guilty, especially when Lando admits to everything, but first he was to endure his little boy needing surgery because his pnuemonia had collapsed his lung.

Lando wakes up to both his dad's holding his hands, just watching and waiting, and it makes him want to cry because he ws so scared the kids at school were right and that his dad's were tired of his disabilities but then Seb is there playing with his hair, kissing his forehead and whispering to him in German while Jenson kisses his hand and tells him he's safe and okay, and Lando knows his dads love him and feels so stupid for not telling them everything and doubting it

[more-than-a-princess]

🎔♫↫ share your Ws girlie

Positive Munday meme - Accepting!

🎔 - What is the best thing that has happened to you this week?

That's a tie between Molly (my cat) getting a clean bill of health at her bi-annual checkup and reserving some more things for my honeymoon! Molly has now reached 'senior cat' age and it's recommended she get two physicals a year instead of just one. They also did her bloodwork and everything came back normal. Not that I thought anything was wrong, but she had accidents in her carrier both on the way and returning home from the vet, and shivered in fear the whole time she was in the examination room.

She forgave me later after about 8 cat treats and time on the heated blanket.

And for honeymoon things, my husband and I finally booked both of our afternoon teas in London and our hotel/park tickets for Disneyland Paris. We still have a lot of train transport to sort out, tickets to Versailles and some museums in Paris, and probably some other things I'm forgetting right now. But those afternoon tea reservations were going to be the hardest to get unless we did it as far in advance as we could.

♫ - Which one of your accomplishments do you feel the most proud of? 

Probably making it to six years at my job (the daily source of my stress, usually) and getting enough experience to qualify for some higher-level positions. And finally getting some health stuff sorted out, including keeping excess weight off for the first time, ever. I'm very thankful to have a doctor who takes my concerns seriously and is doing the tests and prescribing the meds I need to manage my health issues.

If I had to go back further than that, graduating from the university I attended. It is a notoriously difficult school, no matter what your major/concentration is. Some undergrads drop out, many of them seek therapy for the amount of pressure you're under. I'm still in awe that I managed to get my diploma sometimes.

↫ - What is the most impressive skill that you have? 

Gestures at this blog-

Probably sticking with this blog for four, almost five years. Beyond that, it was weightlifting for awhile (until my gym got too crowded and I had a trainer I really didn't get along with). My squat, deadlift, bench press, and snatch numbers were pretty impressive, especially for a woman. The aforementioned health issues allow me to put on muscle more easily than most (and fat, unfortunately. We're still working on that), so heavy weights and powerlifting are things I had some natural affinity for.

Also wearing sunscreen every day, if not a commitment to a full skincare routine. But you know my feelings on the importance of sunscreen. 😉

[wh0re-behavi0r]

five fave fics

nobody tagged me, but self-promo is always the wave! (when it's ethical of course)

(s)he lives in daydreams with me: “You’re too good to me,” she admits, tear-stained face stuffed into Buck’s chest.

looking for you but you're right on time (angel of mine). : Sometimes he wakes up to soft snores and sniffles, a heavy wiry arm wrapped around him, tufts of blonde hair on his chest. He assumes that this is his partner. He looks down and realizes he has a metal arm and has no idea how it got there. - Or the Captain America Post WS AU that nobody asked for.

I don't need no candlelight, you just need to fuck me right: “You know,” Buck scrambles up from where she’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, “I can watch Chris any time you need to go on a date.” The offer is a bit bashful, but Eddie can tell it’s sincere and it makes her choke.

Has she been so obvious in her long-lasting crush on Buck that she feels the need to chase her off? She tries to discourage her with a “no, it’s okay” but Buck insists.

She rolls her eyes and says, “come on, you don’t want to struggle to find someone every time.”

Eddie isn’t sure what her face looks like. She knows she scrunches her nose and furrows her brow and Buck still doesn’t look discouraged. “Are you sure that’s not uncomfortable considering...”

“It was one date, I’ll be fine.” That was Eddie’s worry. She’s going to spend every date wishing that they looked, talked, smiled, laughed, and smelled like Buck since she couldn’t have the real thing. She would be disappointed every time.

or the girl buddie fic I was supposed to publish for pride month

happiness is a phone call away: The audio file is titled: thinking about you

i like how you are with me in our future history: “So we’re all probably wondering what I’m doing here.” A lame opener, as awkward and off center as Buck feels. He has no answers. He doesn’t even know where he is, but traveling to a universe where he meets up with himself is kind of cool.

They sit down in the kitchen together, deciding the bedroom ultimately feels too cramped and throws past Buck off a bit too much.

“Nice to meet you all, I’m Evan Buckley. I’m 26 years old and I’m a firefighter. How about you?” He’s just met with stares. He hopes they start talking soon because he doesn’t know what else to say or do.

“I’m also Evan Buckley. I’m 33 and I’m still a firefighter.”

“Wait, babe, maybe you shouldn’t say anything about who you are. What if that messes something up for future me?” Buck tacks on.

“What, like the timeline?” Eddie looks just as concerned as the other Buck does.

“Or,” future Buck emphasizes, “what if we don’t end up together?”

or the time travel au that nobody asked for

tagging @rewritetheending @queerbitchdiaz @bibuddie @halosdiaz @eddiessluttytanktop @fearlessdiaz @eddiediazisascorpio

[sasster]

gimme a peek of what redivi’s up 2

>Well, you can't be Redivi Duxile right now.

>You can be someone else that is occupying the room with him, however.

>There is one thing you need to do first though.

>Wake Up!

Disgust.

The feeling permeates your very core as consciousness returns to you. It fills you to the brim and proves itself to be terribly overwhelming as it does so.

It’s all that you feel. Aside from a hunger pulsating from the pit of your gut that you have, thus far, chosen to ignore.

How long were you out anyway? This was unlike any sleep you’d had in the past.

Sleep? Were you asleep? No. It felt like something else.

When would you have fallen asleep? Where?

While we’re on the five Ws, who are you?

That’s a hard one, and your search for the answer is cut short when you are hit by another pang of hunger. This one is extraordinarily harder to ignore. It’s hard to place, too, you can’t even tell what it is exactly that you’re hungry for. It is very difficult to stop thinking about it.

You take a moment to roll your shoulders, crack your neck, find a way to get comfortable in your own skin again. The movement must have grabbed the attention of whoever else is in the room with you, your eyes snap open to the sound of them advancing toward you.

Suddenly, the cavern ceiling fills your field of view. The familiar coldness of damp air washes over you, and while usually that is not an issue because you always wear your cloak when you are at work, the chill causes you to shiver visibly.

Why are you at work?

“Welcome back, Hirsch.” The voice that hits your ears, soft and gentle as it is, brings your attention back to the disgust that filled your empty stomach. Redivi.  “My apologies for your missing cloak, I understand your attachment to it. Remora insisted it be removed in case there were any other weapons hidden inside of it. He was uncomfortable with the idea of my being alone with you otherwise.”

Alone is right, it really was the two of you alone in this section of the caverns, wasn’t it? You couldn’t even make out the scurrying of little grub legs across the floor, or the shouting of their handlers behind them. Just the sound of his voice and the growing pit in your stomach.

“You know how protective he is of me.”

There is something about the way he speaks to you, the slightest bit of contentedness that has etched its way into his tone. It tells you one thing – Redivi has figured himself the victor of your little skirmish. 

No longer are you shaking from the cold, but the residual anger left over from your untimely demise. The anger is not alone, however, it is underscored by something that isn't the hunger gnawing at the lining of your stomach. It was heavier than even that, sharper than the disgust.

Shame?

“What is wrong with you?!” The pool of unpleasant emotions, coupled with the troll whose presence you are in, leaves your shout to come out much louder than you anticipated. It booms off the cavern's ceilings and it stops Redivi in his tracks.

There is something different about his mannerisms, however, he isn’t fidgeting and twitching. The crazed look in his eye, it’s gone completely.

Panic! On the cavern cot.

Marqez. Did he touch Marqez?

The panic must be clear on your face, because he smiles before speaking.

He is pleased.

“Oh, dearest Hirsch. You attacked me.” He doesn’t move any closer to you, but he does toss something that lands with a disgusting squelch on your chest. “You declared my death imminent. You pulled out a weapon. Remora was only trying to de-escalate.”

There is an earnestness to his voice, as though he genuinely feels bad. Or at least he wants you to think that that is the case. 

Well, that just pisses you off. He doesn’t get to feel bad.

“I died! You had me killed! You made Theo watch!” This time, as you yell, you sit up, the package on your chest sloshes down into your lap. You are starving. “You’re sick, Redivi!”

“Am I sick, Hirsch? A little demented for your tastes? Is that what you think I am?”

Now that you are looking at him from a better angle, you notice something in his eye, the way he is looking at you.

It’s almost like. A cat.

Playing with a new toy.

Like he’s playing with you.

God. He’s playing with you.

When the realization hits you his smile broadens, an unknown light source catching on his fangs.

The caverns are never this bright.

“Well I think, presently, what I am is the only person that knows that you’ve come back.”

Your stomach drops, you grip the edges of the cot you are still seated in as you begin to scan the cave you’ve woken up in. He blocks the only exit. You swallow, he seems satisfied with your reaction.

“Now why don’t you have your meal, so that Remora can get you home?”

The blood pack in your lap feels heavy.