#just no ability to plan long term. absolute rocks for fucking brains and of course it's their daughters that pay the worst price!!

[atopvisenyashill]

look I'm a greenie but I'm sansa devotee first and foremost long before and I will be long after. that is why i have to agree that this idea that rhaenyra's marriage and children shouldn't affect her inheritance being something that doesnt gets applied to Sansa with her own situation by many of these same people is quite interesting.

And Sansa' own marriage hasn't been consummated, nor does she have any children by tyrion that the crown/lannisters can use to claim winterfell. they don't even have sansa anymore! she's escaped

to be completely honest, part of WHY i'm so partial to rhaenyra's side is in fact because of my stark (and martell) devotion. rhaenyra, in both books and show, is put in a really bad spot so her father can mop up his own mistakes, and is given no good options, then blamed for taking the option she thought would be the best. she knows rhaenys was given driftmark as a consolation prize, and she's worried about what happens to her if she's married off to a man that sees her as a womb; this is a girl whose mother and both grandmothers died in childbirth. of course she's being picky and weird about who she wants to marry, especially given that she's a teenager - like, we literally have that moment where Sansa thinks she's going to marry Loras because he's handsome and her age, and is disappointed about Willas, and this feels to me very similar to how Rhaenyra doesn't want to marry Laenor; she knows he's gay and this is going to be an issue for her, and she wants to marry someone she actually knows and likes and trusts.

so when people are like "well what did she expect" it's like well but what was she supposed to do in this situation? annul her marriage and completely alienate the most important allies she has? publicly shame laenor for not being able to have sex with her, once again, alienating her most important allies? rape her own husband?? just not have kids despite her father dangling her inheritance over her head while he's squirting out son after son? so she tries to have a kid, likely assuming her own genes will win out, and it doesn't work the way she wants, every single time. and then instead of anyone trying to offer her any sort of solution - again, no one offers to orys baratheon this, no one offers to annul the marriage, no one offers her a way to protect her sons without pissing off the velaryons, no one even assures her that they won't fucking execute her and the kids - they just go "welp that's why she can't be queen, because she's a WHORE" and then everyone keeps escalating the situation out of fear until she's turning to the one person who is actually offering her a solution and that's daemon. "oh well she could just give up her inheritance" i'm sorry, but you (general you, not you anon) are a fucking joker if you think that Rhaenyra or her oldest boys would ever be safe if she conceded after Laenor died when they're saying that she committed treason by having kids out of wedlock. Corlys may very well withdraw support if he's not getting his grandchildren on that throne as a prize for backing her clearly bastard born kids. She'll never be allowed off Dragonstone or Driftmark again. Something mysterious will absolutely happen to her kids and they'll die and her proof of that is ya know, the fact that this is exactly what happens to Harwin. She's still a constant threat to Aegon's regime, as are her dragon riding children. She was named heir so no, she doesn't get to go back to just ~being a sister~ if she gives up her claim and lives out her days on Driftmark, completely living off the goodwill of Corlys and Rhaenys.

so i find it endlessly frustrating that like, we can acknowledge that marriages in westeros are super fucked up, that jaehaera, aemma, alicent, dany, sansa, cersei, lollys, roslin, lysa, margaery, are all put in situations where they can't say no, where their children are in danger. rhaenyra is put in this exact same situation and she's an overreaching whore. she's a teenager put in a shitty situation by the adults around her, given zero good options, and chooses one bad option out of many bad options because she thinks it will protect her. she is just like alicent, she is put in the same fucked up situation by the exact same dudes - viserys, otto, and daemon - and told "okay don't freak out but your kids in danger" of course she freaks out!! of course they both freak out!!! they're terrified someone is going to murder their goddamn kids in their beds because no one in this situation is willing to de-escalate or bite back their pride and lose a bit.

[thefairyletters]

Showdown

Naruto and Hinata versus Sasuke and Sakura

According to stats: Naruto and Sasuke are almost equals, and Sakura is the most powerful Kunoichi, only second to Kaguya who is not a Kunoichi but a goddess. But if in Boruto, these two couples were to face each other for real (and not just spar) then it wouldn't be Naruto vs Sasuke while Sakura faces Hinata, contrary to what most of you may think.

Sasuke and Sakura have an extreme Intelligence advantage. The 3/4ths of the total brainpower in this fight would be coming from their team. Sakura is the second smartest shinobi in the Leaf village as an adult, only next to Shikamaru, and Sasuke is arguably a close third. It has been like that since their genin days. The amount of tactical planning going on from their side of the battle would be ridiculous. Naruto and Hinata are both the type to charge headfirst through sheer willpower and pressure, but this isn't going to work against any plan Sasuke and Sakura manage to think up. Brains are always one step ahead of brawns.

As an adult Sasuke shows us that he is capable of using the Rinnegan in far more versatile ways than he did in the war arc, when he was new to the power. He can jump dimensions, swap places with another body, affect the gravity around a person, throw immensely powerful genjutsus with a single glance, see any invisible barriers, predict movements, recognize patterns/codes/signals, and much more. Like holy shit y'all. You really think Naruto would preform as well as he did against war arc Sasuke now that Sasuke actually has a full understanding of his Rinnegan and frequently UTILIZES it?

Gravity and pull. Sasuke's Rinnegan gives him limited control of the gravity around a person or between him and another person. Using this, Sasuke has the ability to tap into some Deva path shit and yank Hinata towards him. It is immensely difficult to resist the pull, and someone as physically weak as Hinata would be easily ripped forward away from Naruto. Once they're separated, Naruto has no surefire way of getting Hinata back to his side and safe in enough time, because she would either be led right into a fatal punch from Sakura or a chidori or sword through the gut from Sasuke himself. Either way, if Naruto lets his watch on her slip even a little bit, she probably already dead or close to it. This could also be a support tactic. Sakura gets separated and is in danger. Using his Deva path pull Sasuke can drag Sakura out of a potentially dangerous situation and back to his side. Same works with the body swap. If Sakura is in a nasty situation, Sasuke can swap places with her in his Susanoo to easily tank a hit that may have killed her. That or he can swap her place with a rock if need be.

Two words: Summoning strength. Sasuke and Sakura hold two of the three boss summons in the three way deadlock. Naruto holds one. Hinata holds…nothing. It doesn't stop there though. Sasuke has at least two other powerful summons that we know of, and while they aren't as powerful as Aoda, they still give him some fair advantages. For example, Sasuke's hawk, Garuda, gives him an aerial advantage should he ever need to take to the skies as a countermeasure against Naruto. Naruto and Hinata have no summons who could reach Sasuke, and this gives him many solid opportunities. Sakura, on the other hand, has Katsuyu. Katsuyu can be spread out across the battlefield in various sizes to heal her allies wherever they may end up on the field. She could also be used in her original form to spit acid or protect the two from any taijutsu and most ninjutsu attacks. Katsuyu is stated early on to be extremely resistant to taijutsu and ninjutsu, and for fucks sake she can tank Pein's attacks with ease while protecting people inside, plus she survived Naruto's corrosive 8 tails chakra just fine. I see absolutely no taijutsu attacks that Naruto and Hinata pull getting through or truly damaging her, and Naruto would have to really put some effort into his more powerful ninjutsu techniques to take her down (also note that since Katsuyu has a very jelly like body type and is resistant to taijutsu and ninjutsu, Naruto's summons wouldn't be terribly productive on offense). But this leaves him wide open for counterattacks if he focuses too much on Katsuyu. And then of course Katsuyu can heal fatal injuries or at least sustain the life of a person fatally injured until help is given. The ultimate win for Sasuke and Sakura in terms of summoning.

Being an Active Shinobi is very important. Sasuke is an active shinobi. Very active. He is constantly on B through S rank missions, and Sakura has traveled with him on some of these. His teammate for this battle, Sakura, is still an active medical shinobi who easily accepts an S rank mission in the Retsuden novels and is originally dealing with part of it on her own before she teams up with Sasuke, who is also present. We have seen her fight in Boruto too. It shows that she is 100% still at her peak performance. Well, what about Naruto and Hinata? Hinata is a housewife who hasn't gone on anything above a C rank mission in years. She takes a B rank mission with her father and sister when Boruto is a toddler, and this is all we hear of it. She's rusty AF and doesn't have the experience nor mission bulk that Sasuke and Sakura have under there belt, nowhere NEAR it. Naruto is somewhat similar. He is, for lack of a better description, out of practice. He was only recently taking on S rank opponents in Boruto, and other than that he's been doing desk work and some minor shinobi guard training over the past few years. Sasuke and Sakura are more in shape and have more recent shinobi mission experience than Naruto and Hinata's combination, both by themselves AND as a team in a fight, which is immensely important here.

Everyone is always forgetting about how important Support can be. Sakura is a first class, kage-level healer at this point in the series. Her medical ninjutsu surpassed Tsunade's back in her own canon novel and is confirmed in the novelization of Boruto's movie a second time. Her ability to constantly heal or boost Sasuke's chakra in battle is important. Whereas while Naruto can amp up Hinata with a chakra cloak, Sakura can go even further. We see with Obito that Sakura can transfer her Byakugou seal markings with all it's chakra to another person she is touching, and in the Retsuden novels this is looked into further. By applying her seal to Sasuke, he becomes an absolute terror for even Naruto to handle. Imagine this: super fast shinobi w/ the Rinnegan abilities and Susanoo suddenly not only getting a chakra boost, but being able to automatically heal potentially fatal wounds completely over and over again for as long as the chakra exists. Sakura at this point has 15+ years of chakra stored in her Byakugou seal (we know this because she notes briefly in the canon novels after The Last that she has not stopped storing chakra and plans to continue doing so just in case she ever needs it). But let's say she didn't continue after that though. She would still have around 6 or 7 years of chakra in her seal. 6–7 YEARS OF CHAKRA. I don't care how much chakra you think Naruto has, it isn't anywhere close to the amount of chakra currently inactive within Sakura's seal, considering the fact that she could completely replenish Naruto's chakra with only 3 days worth of her general chakra. Sasuke would be a BEAST. Absolutely nightmarish on every level if this fight. And Sakura, so long as the chakra exists, would also be nightmarish - especially for those people who think Sakura and Hinata would end up dualing it out at some point.

Have we gotten to the whole dimension portal thing yet? Nope and this is a crucial winning point for Sasuke and Sakura. If in danger, in need of a new plan or simply to dodge away from a particularly crazy attack from Naruto, Sasuke can pull both himself and Sakura into a completely different space in the blink of an eye. He can also use this to jump around the space Naruto is in and really screw around with them. And if you're worried about Sasuke's chakra levels diminishing quickly, don't be. Once again, Sakura's Byakugou seal is the ultimate support ability. Remember that whole “she has at least 6-7 years of chakra even if she, for some reason, wimped out on her plans” spiel? Yeah…that's an easy fix. She helped Obito actually hold open AND SEARCH (people seem to forget that he had to use chakra to search dimensions) multiple dimensions when she only had 3 years of chakra in the seal, and even the she still had enough chakra left to reform the seal on her forehead soon after. Sooo…keeping Sasuke's chakra level high wouldn't be a problem. They can also use the dimensions for Sakura to heal and repair them both. Hinata can't heal and Naruto can't truly “heal" so much as his life force is just really strong, so they're at yet another disadvantage.

Terrain manipulation and swaps. This is where it gets really technical. Sasuke has the Rinnegan, and with it he can do serious damage very early on in the game when his opponent is not expecting such a rush. Try to imagine a scenario like so: Sakura winds up for a full power punch directly behind Sasuke as soon as the fight begins, or otherwise as early on as possible. She fires off the punch at Sasuke. Sasuke, at the last possible second he can manage, swaps his place with Hinata, and BAM. That's one down for team Naruto. Hinata would either be dead or close to it immediately after she hits the ground and stops. Same applies for a switch with Naruto. At that close of a range with literally zero time to dodge at that point, even Naruto would be fairly damaged from a point blank shot, and a damaged Naruto from the start spells bad news for Hinata - the girl basically fully depends on Naruto in the fight, she can't do anything to Sasuke or Sakura without his constant support.

Overall, we can go into arguments if whether Naruto is stronger than Sasuke or Sakura stronger than Hinata, but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't really matter. What matters is that Sasuke is at least competitively close in power to Naruto, and Sakura arguably the most powerful kunoichi in the series at the moment. Their power gap is extraordinarily close, so at this point it all comes down to who is best tactically suited and best prepared for this kind of nuclear fight. And honestly, with their ability to manipulate their surroundings and work more with the terrain and constantly replenish, there's no doubt about the victory. 80% of the time it'll be Sasuke and Sakura if they play their cards like they should.

Answer credits goes to Alex Hendrix, Quora

[cannebady]

Prompt: Aziraphale and Crowley reading reviews for the bookshop

Thank you for the prompt @captainclickycat!

In hindsight, Crowley isn't sure why he set the blasted thing up to begin with. It was, more than likely (read: most definitely), the result of quite an extraordinary amount of alcohol, because all of his best (read: worst) ideas have always started that way and why would this one be any different?

This one, evidently, was him setting up an official Yelp account for A.Z. Fell & Co., Antiquarian and Unusual Books located singularly in one London, Soho. He's sure that it'd seemed like it'd be a laugh riot at the time, though he's not entirely sure why, and he's sure that his sloshed self had been perfectly positive that Aziraphale would never even find the page so honestly what did it matter?

What his sozzled brain hadn't counted on was that, for all of his long and storied existence, he'd been the architect of his own irritations and, like the best of cosmic jokes, it seems that he would continue to be for the rest of bloody eternity.

First of all, he'd truly never thought that Aziraphale would acquire, much less actually use, a mobile phone. But, here in the after of the world that shouldn't have been, it seems that stranger things have truly happened. Of course it didn't help that he'd kept suggesting that Aziraphale get one and then, had gone so far as to actually present the angel with one, fully loaded. He just hadn't counted on the angel taking the blasted thing with his bright, shiny, sea-foam eyes, to which Crowley had no functional defenses, and then take to using it like a fish to water.

The second thing, that came on the tails of learning to use his mobile, was that Aziraphale discovered that he could look up restaurants wherever they were and didn't have to count on Crowley to do so. Additionally, there were reviews he could look at that were just, "So helpful Crowley! Look at these humans, inventing something so useful. They always have been wonderfully creative." Each word was imbued with absolutely heinous amounts of love and good will and Crowley was really just the worst demon there ever was, because he was so damn charmed by Aziraphale being charmed that he didn't put two-and-two together before it stuck him upside the head like a two-by-four.

---

"Crowley", Aziraphale whispered intently while Crowley was quite comfortably napping on the back room sofa.

Crowley tried to ignore it, he really did. He was so wonderfully comfortable and it really would be a shame to wake up. However, it's been established that he has fuck-all in terms of ability to deny Aziraphale anything, so of course he took the bait.

"Yes angel?", he replied, trying to infuse demonic levels of annoyance of nonchalance (read: sleepy, part-yawn, part-soft demon noises) into his tone.

"There are reviews, for the bookshop, on the Yelp!"

It takes Crowley a minute to catch up, because he's still not used to Aziraphale having internet access or knowing what something like Yelp is. He's about to wonder aloud what customer would actually be satisfied enough with Aziraphale's customer service skills to go so far as to write a review about it, before he realizes that he's the one who set up the account in the first place and promptly forgot.

"Wha, erm, what're they saying angel?" he asks, just a bit concerned that this might all be traced back to him.

Aziraphale scrolls down to the first review and Crowley comes up to read over his shoulder.

Marci S.

Soho, London, United Kingdom

2 Stars - 25/1/2020

"I've lived in Soho for years and finally decided to go in. The shop is in complete disarray, but the selection is great. I was satisfied until I actually tried to buy a book. The shopkeeper was icy, difficult, and downright combative. I left empty-handed. Not worth it."

Crowley cringes for a second, before Aziraphale huffs.

"Well, honestly, what did she expect? Hefting a first edition Austen around like that. Am I supposed to sell that to just anyone?" And Crowley wishes he wasn't so fucking impressed by Aziraphale's lack of propriety in these situations, but here he is, smiling like a loon.

"Oh, well of course. Why would she think she could buy a book in a book shop?" He gives a patented shit-eating grin which Aziraphale returns with an eye roll so well rehearsed it'd put Liz Lemon to shame.

"What else, angel?" Crowley asks because he's a glutton for punishment and he just loves that he still gets to rile Aziraphale up. That there's still a world where he can.

"Well, ah, here's another one." Aziraphale scrolls and lands on the next review which is, somehow worse.

Peter W.

Covent Garden, London, United Kingdom

1 Star - 22/12/2019

"Ponce of a shop owner wouldn't let me look at any of the rarer books. Been looking for a first edition Wilde for my son but the pansy wouldn't even let me near, real bastard he was."

Crowley can't help himself. Aziraphale is radiating righteous anger and looking more indignant by the second and it's just too good. Crowley's practical jokes never work out this well and he didn't even need to manufacture the reviews! A.Z. Fell & Co. has a 1.7 rating overall and he knows, he just knows, that every single one of those reviews are 100% honest.

Horribly, once he starts laughing, he can't quite stop. It takes the angel a second to realize that Crowley's breathy sounds aren't commiserating sounds of support but are rather poorly held back guffaws and he pulls out his best thin lipped glare and that's it, that's the end of Crowley's self control. He starts laughing in earnest, nearly bent over at the waist and feeling tears line his eyes, when he hears a truly irritated squawk leave Aziraphale's mouth.

He tries to speak through his bouts of laughter, "Oh, hah, angel, you-," he breaks off again, "you really are a bastard though." To which he receives a thunderous look, laced with millennia of angelic righteousness, a scathing, “Do shut up”, and a fussy turn that would've been a hair flip had Aziraphale had the hair to do so.

Aziraphale is manically scrolling before he stops and the air changes. If Crowley had been less filled with mirth, or had been less self-confident, he would've felt the change in tension. He would've realized that the specific change meant that Aziraphale had found exactly what he needed and that he was about to hand Crowley's arse to him for the 99 millionth time in their very long lives. But, as it was, Crowley was feeling far too chuffed for anything so fleeting as self-awareness.

When he finally looks back to the angel, planning a bit more gloating, he sees a carefully serene, calm smile reaching back, and his blood runs ice cold. This can't possibly be good.

"Well, how about this one, then?", he says and gestures for Crowley to read what's on the screen.

Naya L.

Lambeth, London, United Kingdom

4 Stars - 13/10/2019

"Mr. Fell is actually quite nice, if a bit fussy once you get to know him. He really knows his stuff. He let me use some of his original texts for my thesis. A bit odd, though, every time I went to do a bit more work or look at a new text, there was a man completely asleep, snoring, on the sofa. Weird look about him, sunglasses while indoors (even while sleeping?) and lots of black leather, definitely dyes his hair red. Looked a bit like a washed up rock star. Maybe a friend of Mr. Fell's? Either way, the selection is fantastic even if it smells a bit odd and seems a bit dingy."

Crowley's not laughing now. It takes a moment for him to register that the "indignant squawk" he heard was actually from his own mouth rather than the angel's.

"How dare she-, a washed up-, these are Valentino!"  He yells gesturing wildly towards his own face and the sunglasses that aren’t actually there at the moment, creating more of a chaotic flapping than any recognizable gesture. And now it's the angel's turn to stifle a giggle behind a well-manicured hand. "And I do not dye my hair! It's just like this! I'm a demon, remember?"

At this, Aziraphale starts making a sound that Crowley will respectfully refer to as cackling.  Of course, this was going just too well. And he clearly needed to stop kipping on the sofa as often as he did or it'd do awful things to his carefully crafted reputation.

"Oh, my dear, that's just divine” the angel says wiping an ancient handkerchief primly under his eyes. Crowley wants to be annoyed, and he is to some extent (he'll find bloody Naya L. and give her a piece of his mind, he will), but Aziraphale is just so happy and he's a true sucker for that laugh and that smile.

"M'not washed up, m'just retired."  Through the haze of exasperation, he realizes, perhaps for the first time, that he really is. Retired, a retired demon. That’s what he is. Aziraphale seems to realize it too, because his smile morphs from snide and down right bastardly to warm so quickly it gives Crowley emotional whiplash.

"Yes, I suppose we are, dear." The angel puts down the phone and herds Crowley toward the sofa where they can get comfortable; Aziraphale seated on the far end and Crowley's head comfortably pillowed in his lap, angelic fingers carding through his (definitely, absolutely not, dyed) hair.

Were either of them to look at Aziraphale's phone screen, they'd see the review just below Naya L., which read simply:

Damian R.

Soho, London, United Kingdom

5 Stars - 10/10/2019

"Can’t remember why I went in there in the first place but there was a huge snake. Just a real big snake, all black and red and gigantic. Just sitting in the bookshop, not sure why. Nice lookin snake overall tho. Would probably go back." 

[hellomissmabel]

“I can’t fall in love without you”

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Angst but with a happy ending. Mentions of car accident, death, loss of left arm.

Word count: 2.507

Summary: Five years after moving away from her friends and everything she knows, Y/N receives a surprise visit by Tony, bringing some bad news with him. Sequel to the fic I wrote for @bionic-buckyb that you can find here: “Someone will love you”

A/N: I know I promised you a fluffy fic @mrshopkirk but that’s coming next, okay?

Bucky was your happy pill. He told you he’d hold you until you died. So when you left, every single time you scratched your nails down another man’s back, another man that wasn’t Bucky, you forgot about everything cordial and just let go. Because you have nothing but a memory to hold on to now. A memory and some curse words you’re about to get thrown to your head in order to deal with some overdue debts. Because you’ll pay in order to heal your wounds and those of others, too.

You had set up shop in a little sunset town in Europe. Your motivations for travelling all this way were as clear as day but you feed the same story, the same lie to everybody who showed at least some interest in your previous life; A family member died and left you a generous amount of money, enough to give you a fresh start. They didn’t need to know that you broke your lover’s heart and asked your ridiculously rich best friend Tony Stark if he fancied funding your escape to Europe, to which of course he said yes. With a little pushing and shoving from Caroline, your partner in crime.

You turned your key into the lock, opening the door to your two-bedroom apartment you shared with your colleague Henrietta. You both worked two jobs, not that you needed to with all of Tony’s money, but it was more to keep your mind from wandering to Bucky. Henrietta worked as a waitress at the diner around the corner with you and was a house sitter on the side. But your job at the diner is only your side-job. Henrietta needs all the help she can get since she can’t run the place on her own with the owner always passed out between the liquor bottles. Your actual job however is at a little pastry shop two blocks down where you have built up quite the loyal clientele thanks to your mad baking skills.

“Y/N, my love, would you mind sharing a piece of your famous apple pie with us?,” Henrietta asked you from her spot on the loveseat in the living room as the door falls back in the lock. Unaware of any visitors you might be expecting, you cautiously followed the sound of her chipper voice.

“Yes, Y/N,” a slippery charming voice pipes up, a familiar dark-haired man sitting next to Henrietta. Your groceries bags slip from your hold and through your fingers, crashing onto the floor with a clattering noise.

“Tony you motherfucker Stark what the living fuck are you doing here?” you scream at the top of your lungs. But it’s all inside your head, because once you open your mouth to let the words out, you have lost all ability to speak.

“I ran into this handsome stranger at the diner. He asked me if I knew a certain Y/N Y/L/N and I told him of course I knew Y/N, she’s my roomie!”

You rush towards the kitchen and taking out the leftover apple pie, the need to escape from Henrietta’s good-natured chatter too great. Yet you soon feel his presence hovering behind you and as you turn around, you dive deep inside the bubble of pain growing inside your chest. The apple pie is soon abandoned on the kitchen counter as you begin a staring contest with Tony, Henrietta having vacated the room the give you two some personal space.

You’ll be damned if you let him be the first to speak, so you clear your throat and ignore the chills running down your spine. “Is there something wrong with Bucky? Is that why you’re here? Because I clearly remember our agreement like it was yesterday and I’m fairly sure it didn’t involve any impromptu visits.”

“Just calm down first,” is all you get. A sarcastic chuckle and a friendly warning. So you turn your back to Tony and take out a knife from a nearby drawer. Whilst cutting the apple pie in three pieces, one for Tony, Henrietta and you, your gut feeling tells you it’s a lie. He is withholding a very vital piece of information from you.

“Where’s Caroline?”

“Home. Taking care of our two kids.”

There’s so much left unsaid behind those eyes but you’re too proud and too scared to probe any further. Nevertheless, there’s no goodbye hiding behind that picture perfect smile, all your goodbyes discarded a long time ago when you couldn’t be bothered to tell anybody you were leaving. Anybody but Bucky.

“How long have I been gone?”

“Like you haven’t been counting, Y/N,” he strikes back with sharp precision. You have been counting, that much is true. But your tongue is tied.

“I need to hear it from you,” you press with a stubborn insistence.

Tony sighs a desolate “Five years.”

Your old home is now a place the world around your forgot. There’s nothing you can do except forget about it too, forget about the brightness of Bucky’s smile and the longing, the aching of your heart for his touch. “How’s Nat?,” the masochist inside you asks.

“Y/N…,” Tony replies with another languid exhale.

What follows is an unfortunate reunion with the tiles of the kitchen floor, your knees giving out instantly due to the shock. Tony’s there to catch you before you hurt yourself, lifting you up and sitting you down on the kitchen counter, locking eyes with you as he cups your face in the palms of his hands. His thumbs stroke your cheeks lightly, scared that his touch will somehow make you combust into flames.

“That’s exactly why I’m here. Nat and Bucky were in a car accident. She… She didn’t make it.”

“They were arguing,” he explains and it’s as if all the tiredness you’ve ever experienced in your entire life comes like a tidal wave right back at you. Mind reeling, eyes red from the tears, you listen to his quivering voice.

“Bucky and Nat separated not long after you left. Well, it was Bucky’s decision and Nat just went along with it, much to her dismay. And not long after their break-up, they got back together. The two of them have been dating on and off again for as long as you’ve left the country.”

Tony heaves out a dry laugh but there’s no humour to be found in his expressionless eyes. Taking out a handkerchief, Tony hands it to you and you gladly expect it, wiping away the excess tears. “The only reason they stayed together is because all their other romances failed.”

You want to wash out your brain with bleach the moment those words reach your ears, processed by every single brain cell tainted by the memory of Bucky Barnes. “I don’t want to hear it, Tony. Just tell me when it happened.”

“The car crash happened just yesterday. Like I said, we planned an intervention at my place. The medics said Nat died on impact. Bucky suffered some severe injuries... They immediately took him to the OR and according to the doctors he’s out of the woods. For now.” Tony looks down at your shaking hands. “I came here as soon as I heard.”

“Why? Why would you ever think about coming to me first? You should be there with Bucky and everybody else. I’m not a part of this anymore.”

“Y/N, you will always be a part of this. Bucky needs you, he will need you now more than ever. He’s… He’s lost his left arm, Y/N.”

So this is what it feels to have hit rock bottom. Tony tries to save the conversation by ensuring you that you have a flight back thanks to his private jet, already getting prepped for take-off. Part of you wants to come, wants to go with his so desperately you can’t even be bothered to pack your things. Bucky is badly injured, the thought following you like a ghost.

But there’s another part of you that whispers like the devil, coaxing you with wrong intentions. You can’t go back. You can’t face all your friends, or now former friends, after eloping half a decade ago without another word. “They’ll hate me, Tony. As soon as they see my face, they’ll cast me out.

“They might. What you did was ugly, Y/N. You were unfair to so many people, so many people that loved you. But I have come here to make peace, I’ve come here to offer you a way to make amends.” He takes your hands in his, squeezing them softly. “Pack your bags, sweet thing. You’ve been hiding for long enough.”

You never set a foot in a hospital unless it’s absolutely necessary. It’s ironic that a hospital is the first place you set foot in after five long years.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Tony Stark here to see James Buchanan Barnes,” Tony announces to the woman at the nurse station. Her light blond hair is tied back in a neat bun, her sharp facial structure on full display. But her soft lips cut off the edge of her symmetric face, adding a kindness to her obviously very beautiful face.

“Mister Rogers is still with him so you’ll have to wait until he leaves to visit mister Barnes.”

“Very well,” Tony concludes and with a curt nod thanks to lovely woman.

Nervously you sit down on one of the chairs nearest to the nurses’ station, staring at the people passing you by in order to give your mind a welcome distraction. That is, until your name falls from Steve’s lips with the utmost indignation.

“You brought her back?” he then turns to Tony. “You brought Y/N back? You actually thought this was a good time to bring back the one that got away? Nat just died, Tony!”

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” you say in a meagre attempt to save Tony’s ass as well as your own.

“Damn right you shouldn’t be here. You left, Y/N. I’m never going to forgive you for that.”

Tony’s vice grip on Steve’s wrists prevents him from turning away, his eyes spitting the fires of hell whilst darting back and forth between you and Tony. “Let go of me, Stark,” he snarls in a hostile tone.

“You know, Steve, I never pegged you for the type that holds long-term grudges.”

“Fuck off. You had no right to involve her in this. She’s not our friend anymore. She stopped being our friend when she left without a word five fucking years ago.”

“Please stop. Both of you,” you snap in the middle of their hurricane.

Addressing Steve directly, you waver slightly as your system drops into a critical mode. He is so angry. He is fuming. He is pissed at you and he has every right to. Before you and Bucky, there was you and Steve. You were friends with benefits and even though the transition back to just friends went smoothly, you don’t think he ever let go of you. Maybe he’s still cross with you for going from his booty calls to romantic dates with Bucky and not some other dude you picked up at one of Tony’s parties.

“Steve, I’m not going to overstay my welcome at all. I promise you I’ll be outta here by nightfall.” You take a deep breath and finish with an insecure “But only if Bucky wants me.”

The blond huffs, eyeing you suspiciously, but agrees to your terms after which Tony releases him. “If you hurt him again, I’m going to come after you.” Giving Tony the stink eye, he albeit power walks around the corner.

“C’mon darling, let’s go see your boy,” Tony encourages quietly, his hand on the small of your back as he leads you towards the right room. You’re afraid to walk inside, so you let Tony do the knocking first, hoping that Bucky will already be fast asleep and didn’t hear anything of the altercation that occurred earlier.

“Yeah, I’m awake. Come in, whoever you are.” He still sounds the exact same, your heart skipping a beat at the sound.

Shortly peering your head inside, you quickly retract again as your nerves catch up to you. Steve was right. Steve was right and you shouldn’t be here because Nat just died and they were still together even though their relationship wasn’t all too stable and they weren’t faring well at all and…

“Y/N, is that you?”

It’s Bucky’s voice that snaps you out of your insecure ramblings. You had only shown your face for a feeble second, how on earth could he have known it was you?

“Tony kept his promise,” he mumbles to himself and suddenly all the pieces to the puzzle fall together. Your feet lead you through the door and into Bucky’s hospital room.

“Y/N,” Bucky whispers softly. “Sweetheart…” And then he starts to cry.

You rush over to him immediately, cradling your ex-lover into your loving embrace. It’s then that you notice he indeed only has one arm and that there’s a firm bandage around his left shoulder. But you’re not given too much time to think any further about it before Bucky’s ugly cries turn into whimpers and his heartbeat levels out to a steady thumping.

Pulling back a little so you can take another good look at him, you finally get to see the changes behind his eyes. The long hair, the lush and thick, black eyelashes together with that million dollar smile. It’s all still there. But his eyes, his baby blue eyes carry a dead sentence. They show you the five years you’ve been gone in just mere seconds, all the hurt and the misery he’s been through, trying to fix himself up with little help from Nat.

“Nat’s dead,” Bucky chokes out in between loud sobs. “I lost my arm. My God how I’ve missed you,” he croaks out in a hoarse voice.

“You don’t have to talk about that, Bucky. Not now,” you reassure him, weaving your fingertips through his chestnut hair.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to say that, Bucky. Not now,” you repeat weakly, your movements having come to a stop.

“Do you still love me?,” he questions as he looks up at you, baby blues drowning in a sea of tears.

“Of course I still love you, Buck.”

“Then what took you so long? Why didn’t you come back until now?”

The questions hovers mid-air, mingling itself with the air in your lungs. “I couldn’t. I didn’t know if you’d still want me. You will always live in my heart, I just can’t fall in love without you. But I hurt you, I hurt you so much.”

“Don’t. I’m also to blame for this mess. Just – Just stay. Please stay this time, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod softly, “I’ll stay.”

“Okay,” he smiles and in the heat of the moment Bucky makes a rash decision, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, chaste kiss. He inhales deeply, savouring this reunion as much as he can.

@beccaanne814-blog @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @knittingknerdy @winterboobaer @italwaysendsinafightt @viollettes @hymnofthevalkyries @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @austinamelio @volklana @4theluvofall @bovaria @themcuhasruinedme @theoneandonlysaucymo @caplanbuckybarnes @hymnofthevalkyries @nenyakj @amrita31199 @emilyevanston @minervaem @howlingbarnes @buchananbarnestrash @austinamelio @youandb @you-and-bucky @fvckingsteverogers @thatawkwardtinyperson @that-sokovian-bastard @abovethesmokestacks @justareader @marvelrevival @marvel-fanfiction @justanotherbuckydevotee @barnes-heaven @heartmade-writingbucky @buckyywiththegoodhair @captnbarnesrogers @mellifluous-melodramas @its-not-a-phase-hux @melconnor2007 @ivvitm1109 @toofuckinfabulous @ailynalonso15  

[jessicaptain]

I had given up on the idea of racing a mountain bike after choosing the Guanella Pass Hill Climb over the Beti Bike Bash. The Beti Bike Bash has a race category specific to women who have never raced before. I was all about that because mountain biking intimidated the shit out me. To factor racing in totally freaked me out.

I thought that if I could take on a race with other first-timers, it wouldn’t be as humiliating as opposed to racing another course with experienced athletes. At least if I was going to suck, I’d have the camaraderie with other noobs.

When I saw one of my teammates, Teena, offering her registration to Battle of the Bear, it was hard to pass up. Especially when my husband was also planning to race it. I was originally planning on racing the Senior State Time Trial Championship which was the same day as the Battle of the Bear, so it came down to racing a 40K Time Trial to prove I was better than last year (DFL last year) or racing 16 miles on a mountain bike having absolutely no clue as to how that race would turn out. I opted to throw myself out of my comfort zone (and hopefully not off my bike) in a big way and race my first-ever mountain bike course.

I asked and verified with my teammates the technical difficulty on the course as I’ve never ridden the mountain bike trails in Breckenridge (note: this race was rescheduled and relocated due to a storm on the originally scheduled date). I knew my weaknesses were downhill and weird, technical spots on trails. I certainly wasn’t going to huck myself into a race that would be absolutely above my abilities and therefore, making it completely miserable. I knew I could take some misery, but not 16 miles worth.

When I received the email notification that Teena transferred her registration to me, boy, did the butterflies start whirling around in my belly.

I told Chris we had to preview the course before the race. There was no way I was going into this blindly. Chris, on the other hand, was comfortable with the unknown. Sometimes (okay, a lot of times) with road races, I’ll neglect to preview courses. And usually it doesn’t work out in my favor. At the very least, if I was going to give mountain bike racing a try, I sure as shit was going to see what I was getting myself into.

Saturday morning we packed up and drove to Breckenridge (which, in hindsight, we probably should have found a hotel room so we didn’t have to drive so far). On the drive up, it hadn’t quite settled in that I would be hauling ass over trails. I had no idea what the course was like, other than what my teammates promised; which was, “You’ll do great. It’s not techy at all.”

Luckily, the race organizers had the signage up, making it easier to learn the route. Within the first ten minutes, we hit a pitchy climb and it continued. This is where I do well. I can do climbs. There were more climbs and I was feeling good. I kept up with the group although the quads burned a little. (Note: I only have flat pedals on my mountain bike so it’s all quads.) About a mile in I was like, “Sweet. I got this.” And then we hit the downhill, which, as a Roadie, fucks with my head too much. And I know I let it.

And it couldn’t just be a downhill; it had to be a downhill coupled with sand and tight turns, a combination of worst-case scenarios for a roadie. On pavement, you would never see a cyclist take a tight turn with sand sprinkled all over, let alone a pit of sand (unless, of course, they’re racing cross, and they already know it’s there). That’s a straight line to blood, bruises, and broken bikes.  

So there I am, inching my way down this twisty, turny trail at a snail’s pace. It would have been faster if I just walked it. I wanted to “session” the section so I could figure out the best line or at the very least, get a tiny bit more comfortable with it. But by the time I caught up with the group, they started rolling out. Any confidence I had on the uphills quickly eroded – much like the sand that used to be rocks.

I think Chris realized my anxiety when he saw me death-gripping my handlebars as I traversed the sandy pit of hell. He reared up behind me and reminded me that a lot of racers struggle uphill so that’s where I needed to focus because that was my strength. I needed to “stop fixating on my weaknesses and to race to my strengths.”

We continued previewing the course, my confidence steadily waning. I kept telling myself that this was supposed to be fun. If I wasn’t having fun, why was I doing it?

There was one rocky section toward the end. The group sat at the bottom, watching me descend, which makes anyone nervous. “Don’t stryder. Don’t stryder.” I wanted to put my feet down, but with the pressure from my audience, I kept my feet on the pedals. I knew this part could make or break the race for me.

The last section of the course was like, a bmx park. It’s obvious I don’t mountain bike often. I don’t know the terms. There were berms and it winded back and forth. I could have jumped off a couple hitters, but I tapped my brakes instead.

We rode underneath the official finish line and my nerves were still rattling. Previewing the course made me more nervous about the race, but I was also happy to know what to expect.

My legs felt heavy from the first loop so we decided to stop after one go-around instead of going through it a second time.

After picking up some grub from King Soopers, Chris and I drove all the way back down to Littleton. I didn’t sleep well that night. 

As we packed the car, Littleton weather was beautiful. Which is why I neglected to bring cold-weather gear. It was a tough lesson when we rolled up to registration, wind gusting, cold rain tapping against my sunglasses, and the hairs on my arms standing at high salute.

I quickly realized how different mountain bike racing is from road racing. Unlike road races, mountain bikers were chatting away, drinking beer, and taking naps. I kept looking at my watch, wondering what time we’d start warming-up.

And there wasn’t much of a warm-up. I think I went up and down the same hill six times before lining up to chat some more. As we grouped together, I checked out everyone’s calves and saw that I was only racing two other women (also, unlike road, they mark your calves for your category and age group).

The ladies joked that all we had to do was finish and we’d place. I didn’t want to place that easily. Like road, I wanted to earn my placement. If I was going to land on the podium, it was because I worked my ass off for it. Because in the road races, I’ve worked my ass off and still ended up in dead fucking last place.

I watched Chris line up ahead of me and as soon as the whistle was blown, he was gone.

My goal was to stay on Kristi’s wheel as long as I could. I knew uphill wouldn’t be an issue. It was the downhill. She’s a strong rider so I had my work cut out for me.

The whistle blew and us seven women shot off. I was on Kristi’s wheel, just like I planned.  We quickly dropped the rest of the women. I wanted to pace myself, but I wanted to stay with Kristi more. We caught up to the men within the first ten minutes of racing. I didn’t think I’d say, “On your left” at all, but I called it out several times as Kristi and I pedaled up the first steep hill.

I shook as I kept speed with Kristi, focusing on her torso, watching her seamlessly weave around rocks and slightly brushing against bushes that lined the trail. She stopped several times from some mechanical problem, apologizing each time I slowed down with her. I was doing well until we reached the twisty, sandy downhill. She was off like the White Rabbit and I was Alice wondering where the hell she went.

Slowly traversing down, trying my damndest to stay loose, Marc and the men we previously passed, caught up to me. I pulled over and told them to go. Marc yelled, “You’ve got this, Jessica! Trust your bike!”

I knew he was right, but I also knew my back tire was sliding and I hated it. They took off, leaving me in the sandy pit of hell I thoroughly remembered from the day before.

I knew I’d catch up with them on the fire road and told myself so. I tried convincing myself I was fearless, that my bike and I, would be fine. I took the last few turns and saw them on the hill ahead of me.

The fire road was simply an uphill dirt road. I saw the men ahead of me. I took a sip of water and kept pushing my pedals, slowly cutting the distance between us. I caught up to them on a very short yet very steep hill. I didn’t have enough momentum to pedal up so I jumped off the bike and started running up the hill.

Marc and Simon both yelled, “You got this, Jessica!” And I yelled back, “Let’s go, guys! Come on!”

I jumped on Marc’s wheel. “Let me know when you’re ready to pass!” He said. We came to another hill and I took off. We continued leapfrogging through the first lap. They’d drop me on the downhills and I’d pass them going up.

Kristi was long gone but I knew that would happen.

As we pedaled under the main banner, signifying our second lap, seeing my mom and Dean, posing for Kyle’s photo, I told myself I couldn’t keep leapfrogging Marc and the guys. I knew it was messing with everyone’s race. I knew I had to buck up, stay loose, and trust my bike. So I pushed harder on the uphills and loosened my grip on the downhills. I felt like I was flying (really, I wasn’t that much faster than the first lap but our brains like to play tricks).

I tried looking ahead on the trail instead of directly in front of my tire. In a few of the sketchy sandy spots on tight turns, I threw my foot down to help with the turn. I had nothing to prove to anyone and if using my toe to keep me comfortable made me go faster, then so be it, I thought.

Every time I saw a racer ahead of me, I’d take it up a notch and catch up to them.

My quads screamed. My lungs burned. And my hands shook from adrenaline.

One section was a steep, sandy downhill, with washboards. On the first lap, two dudes yelled at me to let go of the brakes. The second time I rolled around, they yelled at me again. I yelled back saying I was a roadie and to hush it, semi-jokingly, of course.

As I took off, their departing words were, “Sweet tattoos!”

I spent the next five minutes ruminating over those two dudes who found it easy to tell someone how to ride, yet they were standing on the sidelines. It’s always easier said than done.

As I took a second to catch my breath, I looked up at the sky and saw the mountains encircling me. It was clear why mountain biking is preferred by my husband. No cars. Just nature.

And then I was thrown back into the reality of racing when I came upon the rocky downhill section that freaked me out. This time I was ready for it. I lowered my saddle and followed the line clearly taken by all the bikers before me. No one was around but I still felt the pressure to stay on my pedals. And I did just that.

Shaky and exhausted, I shifted up and kept pedaling. My goal was simply to finish unscathed and not totally ashamed of my performance. I crossed the finish line without expectations and a cheering crowd. I kissed my husband, gave Jim his gloves and Kyle his arm warmers, and hugged my mother. We continued to cheer as other racers rolled in. We reminisced on tough sections, sketchy descents, and funny moments. Then Chris offered to get my timing receipt for me.

Chris handed me my race report. I finished first.

I was shocked and excited. No way in hell did I think I could pull off a first place in a mountain bike race when it totally terrified me. But this race was less about my placement and more about the experience. And while I was full of stoke as a climbed up to the top step, I was also regretful that I rarely give myself credit for the road races.

The mountain bike race was a way to try something new with no pressure or expectations. I didn’t expect anything of myself except to finish. I’ve never patted myself on the back for finishing a road race. If I don’t land on the podium, I feel like a failure. If I come in Dead Fucking Last, I usually sulk and maybe cry behind sunglasses when no one’s looking. I take road racing too seriously and I think it’s because I have these lofty goals of becoming some sponsored racer where I get to travel the world and ride my bike. I’d love that.

And when I’m not excelling, I realize that dream may only ever be a dream.

I applaud myself for my mountain bike racing efforts because I don’t have those same goals with mountain biking as I do with road racing. I’m thankful to have another form of biking that I can just enjoy while also pushing myself. I’ll keep Road where it’s at: serious and my number one passion. Mountain biking will stay as my let-loose sport where I can cheer on teammates while we race along the course; where I can enjoy the beautiful scenery as I pedal and gasp for air; where I can leave for the day without a podium and still be proud of my efforts.

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