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winterarmyy · 2 years ago

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Welcome home... Soldat? | Part I

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Summary: Y/N had make a habit of greeting Bucky a warm 'welcome home' everytime he came back from his missions, but there was one particular day when she unknowingly greeted someone else.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 2.9k++

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, dubious con on groping reader's body, dark(?) possessive behaviour, google translated russian, our soldat is kinda cute(?) in his own twisted way, and well, basically fluffy times with the soldat.

P/S: Guys, I never planned this at all. I mean, who am I kidding? All of my fics are not planned and I clearly write things out of impulse. Therefore, this one don't have much of a story building/plot because it was born out of one scene that flashed in my head and has been replayed way to many times that I need to let it out. Anyway, I still hope you enjoy it, somehow.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N didn't know when exactly she started this habit but she swore to herself to never grow out of it.

It's been nearly 2 years since the fall of Hydra and the avenger has accepted the winter soldier under their wing. Begrudgingly by Tony, but the rest of them seemed like they're not against it.

Y/N used to be an agent from SHIELD but since the fall, she had been recruited under the avenger's programme and had been living in the tower since.

She remembered the day when Bucky first came in, he was quiet and weary all the time. Like an abandoned cat, picked up by a stranger to come to their home. And it took the whole team months before he slowly adapted.

Who knew he would morphed into a sassy, grumpy little shit, right?

Since the first day, Y/N had been making an effort to make him feel welcomed. Helped him to adjust to modern times. Though it was not regular but she's glad he came to her from time to time to ask about things.

Y/N only meant it to be casual when she greeted him back from his missions. Usually, it'll be something like,

"Oh you're back?"

"How's the team?"

"Good to see you well put together from such horrendous mission."

"God, you look like you fell from 5 flight of stairs."

"Are you even trying to fight back, Bucky?"

But one time, Bucky came back in the morning around breakfast, she wasn't feeling sassy or clever. So, instead of greeting him with playful remarks, in the glory of her messy bed hair and iron man pyjamas, she greeted him with a sleepy smile, "Welcome home, Bucky."

And that surely made the 6 foot, bulky hunk of a soldier paralysed in his spot. His ocean blues slightly widen, and his cheeks deepen in blush.

For a moment, he wondered if this is how he would feel if he had a wife waiting for him to come back from war back in the 40's. But, then again nothing can be compared to the sight he was seeing as he is now.

And Y/N didn't want to ever lose that memory of him.

Cute and flustered Bucky is a very rare sight to see. Perhaps, this was the only time she could witness it and she want to cherish it for the rest of her life.

Though Bucky never replied to Y/N's greeting, it didn't stop them from starting a whole new routine.

Y/N always knew that she had a thing for the sargent, but about 2 months from that moment, Y/N realized she was in love.

And she waited for him, every single chance she had for arrival of the team to come back. Just like she is now, at 03:45 in the morning, while scavenging for something sweet she can eat as she waits for Bucky's return.

When, she turned around she was not expecting to have her face into clashed into something, "Oww!" Y/N shuts her eyes close as she rubbed her aching nose to ease the sharp strike of pain.

For a moment there, she seriously thought she might have just bumped into some kind of a solid air that appeared out of nowhere, but when she opened her eyes, it was just Bucky who was standing rather ominously still.

"My god, you scared the shit out of me. I know you used to be an assassin but, you gotta announce yourself sometimes, man." She joked. Although she did find it impressive that he managed to silently sneak up on her with those thick, heavy combat boots he was wearing.

"Woah, someone's been having a field day kicking your ass, huh?" Y/N's eyes lingered a little longer on the wounds at the side of his temple that she didn't notice the void in his eyes.

"Anyway..." she continued as she shook of the thoughts of caressing the cut on the corner of Bucky's lip, before greeting him with a gentle smile, "Welcome home."

Bucky's unresponsiveness was nothing new to her. With the amount of silent glares and gruff eye-rolls that he had shot at her these past few months, she's used to it by now.

But, when she finally had the guts to look him in the eye, only then she noticed the underlying shift. Albeit, his signature frown was still as present as ever but, those eyes had made her questioned of the slight difference from what she recognized.

Bucky wordlessly step forward and cornered her until her back meets the side of the kitchen isle. He took his time assessing her, almost admiring the way her iris wavered in confusion.

Something is wrong.

Her guts were screaming at her to notice it but her body wasn't reacting accordingly. That's when the voice of the AI, Jarvis echoed through the walls.

"Emergency alert: Code Winter. Initiated by Captain Steve Rogers. All agent is advised..." The announcement went on based on protocol while the cogs in Y/N's brain finally moved, "Code Winter? That means..."

"...to be cautious of Sargent James Barnes; reprimand on sight however try not to engage alone. Agents is..." Jarvis voice in the background interwoven with Y/N's internal deduction, "...This is not Bucky?"

As she tried to put her own mind into perspective, trying to make herself believe that this man in front of her is not Bucky Barnes who she had been adoring over for these past few months, the soldat's hands reached the side of her neck, squeezing the softness of her flesh while his thumbs grazed the shape of her jawline.

His heavy gaze remained on hers, willing her to stay as still possible.

"Bucky...?" She called his name in hopes of triggering something, anything for within his controlled mind.

At end of the corridor leading towards the kitchen, Steve could see how the soldat had already gotten his hands on Y/N and panic strike him like lightning, he sprinted towards her as he despretely shouted, "Y/N! Stay away from--"

But Y/N was not able to render anything she heard from Steve, especially after a long silence, the soldat finally spoke, "Yes, I'm home..."

He carefully pulled her face closer to his as his lips planted on her soft cheek, "...мое cолнышко (my sunshine)" he lifted for a second just to kiss her again on her temple as he whispered lowly, "...мое Родная (my darling)"

Y/N's heart was beating madly for several different reasons. Parts of her was terrified that the soldat might break her neck within an instance, but it gradually changes into something much more confusing, a conflicted joy, when he keep on trailing his lips all over her face.

What is happening?

Both her and Steve was practically frozen in pure confusion.

Steve's mouth hanged open as words failed to form, while Y/N was unable to comprehend any sort of thoughts, let alone counter movements; when the soldat continue to whisper Russian endearments against her skin, littering sweet kisses on every part of her face, except for her lips as if he wanted to tease her.

His hands slowly travel down her back and stopped on the side of her waist, pulling her body closer until there was no space in between them anymore, before he wrapped his arms around her.

The drag of his stubble on her skin burned but it felt so good when he kissed it after.

Seconds later, Sam managed to catch up with Steve and his cautious approach fell as he witnessed the soldat's rather domestic actions towards Y/N.

Sam foolishly let his guard down as he approached with a question directed to Steve, "Is the tin man back?" That was when a bullet barely grazed the tip of his ear that then buried through the wall behind him.

Both Steve and Sam forced to stop any sort of movement as the soldat's aim was still locked towards their direction; his cold blue eyes pierced with a menacing warning, all the while posessively holding Y/N in his arms as his kisses trailed the side of her neck.

"Nope, not yet." Sam answered his own question as he waited for Steve's order.

Y/N felt like she have to do something to de-escalate the situation. After a quick deduction, and based on the soldat attitude towards her, she took the risk of believing that he would not do anything to hurt her, so she decided to play along.

Will it work though?

Well, she got to have to try for it work.

She gulped nervously before softly calls for him, "Soldat?" she looked up towards him.

When the soldat gave her his attention, she watched the loose strand of his hair fall down to his face. Her hand went up and reached for it, "How about we go back to your room and let me tend these wounds, hmm?" She cooed while tucking his behind his ear and briefly caressing his cheek with the back of her fingers.

The soldat didn't reply but instead silently process her proposition.

However, the hesitation only worried her more, so she continued to persuade, as she cautiously slide her hand, following his arm that was holding her teammates at gun point, "It'll be just the two of us. How's that sound?" She smiled warmly at him as she managed to lower it enough to grab the gun away from his grasp.

There was a glint of indecipherable emotion in his eyes when she mentioned that, which then he nodded in agreement.

"Okay then, let's go." She put the gun on the kitchen isle behind her and replaced her hand in his, pulling him towards his bedroom. The soldat did not protest to her lead, in fact her followed her obediently.

But before Y/N makes an exit, she looked back towards Steve and mouthed a reassuring message, "I got this."

The captain had all the rights to be weary but at this point, he just had to believe in Y/N's action plan. He nodded and replied, "Be safe. We'll be outside."

Along the walk towards Bucky's room, all she could think was that she can handle it and she got this under control.

But, does she?

Well, Y/N did have it under control, in terms of keeping the soldat from going on a berserk rampage but what she didn't think through was how the fuck she should handle his behaviour towards her.

After they arrived to Bucky's room, she had instructed him to strip off his tactical suit and leave him sitting at the edge of the bed, only in his short to avoid him reaching for any hidden weapons he had, all the while she went to grab the first aid from his bathroom.

Now that she almost done tending the small injuries on his face, it finally dawned to her that the soldat had her immobilized in between his legs as his hands rubbed the back of her thighs, occasionally squeezing the softness of her body in his tender grip.

His intent gaze waited patiently for her to finish and as soon as she did, he pulled her on his lap, making her to straddle on top him as he smushed his face on her chest, "Oh, Родная (darling)... I have missed you."

Her hands found her balance on his shoulders while the soldat roaming hands held her body still by the back of her waist.

It will be a lie if she said her heart didn't skipped when he confessed; even if it was still the soldat's thoughts and words but it was Bucky's voice.

The soldat pulled his other hand to play with the buttons of her pyjamas shirt, specifically around her chest area.

Part of him wanted to just rip her clothes off from her body but another part of him didn't want to. He didn't want scare her; and his precious little darling deserved to be pampered.

He had her buttons popped off; one by one, slow and almost sensual while Y/N was still in a heated debate with herself on what she should to next. She wanted the soldat to stop but god the temptation of wanting more was beyond her will power.

This is not Bucky.

She knew that. But, she had been bewitched by the look in those familiar blue eyes. So enthralled and so keen to unwrap her.

Y/N let out a low yet sharp gasp as her chest was finally revealed, "Soldat, what..." The soldat take a quick glance into her eyes, "...are you doing?" before trailing back down to the curve of her breasts, cupped so beautifully with a simple black bra.

His hands went back to grabbed her thighs as he replied, "Just wanna hold you." He leaned closer and left a lingering kiss in between her breasts, mumbling deep, " Wanna feel you, мое Родная (my darling)"

Fuck, it feels so good.

"Wanna feel you..." Y/N's grip on his bare shoulder tightened as he lips warmed the top of her right breast, "...here." An unexpected moan slipped out of her lips as the soldat latched his wet mouth on her skin, bruising it with his mark.

He groaned to the taste of her, so sweet and soft, he wanted to pull the bra off her and suckle on her nipple. He bet that they're perky and so sensitive. Bet he could make her cum just by playing with them.

He wanted to leave his bite mark around them, make them look much more prettier. But, he needed to be patient.

He brought his left hand up to hold the other side of her chest; pulling another pretty noise as the cold metal of his thumb gently stroked the exposed skin of her breast.

"Wanna feel you..." His flesh hand made its way lower and cupped her clothed sex, unexpectedly making her grind down to his hold, "...here."

She couldn't help to find shelter in the crook of his neck when he began to stroke her sensually.

This is getting out of hand.

Y/N doesn't mind to entertain him if the soldat only asked for him to hold her but it was clear that he wanted so much more than just innocent touches. Especially when he languidly rubbed his middle finger in between the slit of her pussy.

She hates how easy it was for Bucky's touch turned her on, his hands and his lips; regardless if his actions was someone else's.

This is wrong.

This has to stop.

"No... soldat." She whimpered in his ears as his finger drew slow circles on her clit, his mouth latched on her shoulder.

"I can't touch you here?" He murmured softly as he pressed harder. Even with the barrier of the cotton panties, she was so sensitive to his touch; he loves that about her.

"N-no. You can't." She choked back a moan as she replied.

God, what if he doesn't care?

What if he'll get mad and force it on her?

She can't imagine the guilt Bucky had to experience if the soldat take her right now. And all because her stupid little brain cannot comprehend a plan to stop him, all because she let the soldat touch her as freely, as willingly.

Salty tears started to blur her vision when she sniffled them back.

Much to his deperateness, the soldat pulled her away and watched as her tears spilled out, "Oh darling, don't cry." He leaned in and kiss the corners of her eyes, murmuring his words of comfort, "I hate to see you cry, мое cолнышко (my sunshine)." His metal hand slithered to her back and his palm stroked her lovingly.

"Okay, okay. I won't touch your sweet princess part, okay?" He patted her pussy one last time before reaching to swipe her tears away. "I promise." He whispered.

As much as he wanted to fuck her stupid, fill her hole full with his load; however the soldat does hold her very dear to his heart and hates to see her sad.

"Just let me hold you close, darling?" He cooed as he kissed the edge of her lips.

Y/N didn't know why but she trusted his words. Maybe it was because he was so gentle with her, that she was tricked into believing him.

She watched the soldat waited patiently for her response and when she nodded softly, he swiftly lifted her in his arms and lay her down on the bed.

He tucked himself in under the sheets with her and naturally rested his face on her chest. His fleshed arms wrapped securely around her waist and his metal one around her thighs, as he pulled her closer; almost suffocating himself in between her warm breasts.

It was like an instinct for Y/N to encircle her arms around his neck while her hands run through the thick of his hair, absentmindedly playing with the softness of it.

She almost giggle when the soldat let out a deep-throated sound of relieved sighs as she continued to massage his scalp.

As the soldat started to sail deeper into dreamland, Y/N thought that maybe this will be the only and the last time she had the chance to hold Bucky like this and she knew it was wrong to feel grateful to the soldat because had done nothing but terrible, despicable things in the past.

But when she thought about it, none of those sins was his choice to make. He was created to kill and nothing else.

But what if he had something to hold on to?

A hope to look forward to?

A person to protect?

Or a home to go back to?

Would he still be the same monster he had been before?

She have not a slightest clue.

But, what she does know that this soldat who's clinging in her arms, deserves something kind.

And she hoped that she managed to give him a sense of peace for once in his life.

Y/N nuzzled to the side of his tired-looking face and placed a sweet kiss on his temple as she whispered ever-so-softly, "Welcome home, soldat."

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: This is possibly part 1? I'm not sure either. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! And reblogs is much appreciated!

#winterarmyyfics #welcome home soldat au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier × reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier!bucky #bucky fluff

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fourmoony · 9 months ago

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𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter Three.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: language, abandonment, falling, mentions of broken bone and reconstructive metal work, cheating.

ITN Masterlist

You –

The ice is smooth, freshly pressed by the Zamboni. You should be nervous. Usually, you’d be nervous. But you’re tired. Exhausted, actually. If Pince knew how much you want to turn boot and skate off the other side of the ice, she’d probably have an aneurism. This is it: your chance to become a National Champion. The gateway to worlds, to the Olympics. And all you can think about is the gaping hole in your chest, the knot your stomach has wound its way into. The sound of James’ truck door slamming an echo in the back of your head.

The crowd is silent, and your programme music starts. Four minutes. You only need to make it four minutes. Four minutes until you can walk away and spend the summer wallowing. Four minutes that hang over you like a heavy weight.

You know this routine like the back of your hand. You’ve practiced it so much you could do it in your sleep. Spins, jumps, twists. Every one of them brings a different memory. James picking you up off of your ass, frustrated and angry, sending you back to try again with encouraging words and an even more encouraging kiss. He’d cheer when you landed and buy you chocolate cake on the way home.

The music is loud and overwhelming. It grates on your skin. Images of James, of your happiest moments, of everything you lost – they spin and jump along with you. Heavy as the rain that soaked you on the twenty-minute walk back to your apartment that night. It hurts too much, burns too hot.

Pince likes to say that careers can end in a split second. You know well that they can. All it takes is a bad jump, a distraction. You’ve seen it happen. Countless young athletes losing their careers over one bad move. One fracture, one broken bone, one chip on the ice. One second and it’s all gone.

One second and you’re on the ice.

One second and the resounding crack of bone slices through the crowd.

One second and the lights have gone up.

One second and your entire life leading up to this moment flashes before your eyes.

One second and the world stops.

One second before the shattered sob leaves your throat and it all goes black.

Your ankle clicks and crunches when you roll it. It’s uncomfortable, but not sore – and as much as you hate to admit it, Pomfrey is right; that’s progress. Your toe touches the ground, your calf burns, your ankle hits a breaking point. With a wince, you straighten it, repeat the motion. The stretch room off the back of the rink is empty this early in the morning. The hockey team doesn’t come in for practice for another two hours, the ice is fresh, and as soon as the feeling comes back to the ball of your ankle, you’re going to make use of the free time.

With a breath, you pull your leg up, run the edge of your nail along the skin of your scar. There’s no feeling against the skin, there. It comes and goes, the numbness. Your doctor’s say it’s a side effect of the surgery, the damage to the nerve endings, the pins, the screws. Your finger trails a pattern up your leg, back down, over the ragged ridges of the marred skin. It’s starting to feel normal, the ways you need to live your life. Stretches every day, physical rehabilitation, being barely able to wear heels, mobility, and flexibility issues. Lily likes to joke that you’re a walking-talking-live version of the Met Office. The change in weather is, admittedly, easier to assume with the metal work in your ankle.

It’s been hard – rehabilitating. It’s been sore and scary, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Remus talks, often, about the limitations that his condition puts on his career. It’s nice, in a twisted sort of way, to have someone who knows your pain. In comparison, your pain is a nick on Remus’ radar. His pain is chronic, his bones brittle and damaged. His career will be short lived – but, you know without a doubt that his time in the NHL will be legendary, regardless.

The feeling comes back slowly, to the slow rhythm of your finger tracing up and down. You stand, after a while, and reach for your skate bag. You don’t bother with shoes, socked feet padding against the rubber flooring all the way down to the team box. To your surprise, the ice is populated when you get to the plastic door into the benched area. Sirius and Remus are skating laps around the ice, passing a puck back and forth. They don’t have their kit on, just joggers and their team sweatshirts. James is in the same attire, socked feet kicked up on the bottle shelf beneath the boards. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, hood over his hair. Stray, dark strands of chocolate brown curling out the sides. He looks tired. Exhausted, even.

His eyes follow Remus and Sirius around the rink, ever the dutiful, attentive captain. You know there’s millions of play ideas running through his head, critiques on players that aren’t even in James’ eyesight. It’s astounding, though you hate to admit it, how good of a leader James is.

“You’re all here early.” You say, setting your skate bag beside James on the metal bench.

Your ex startles, eyes wide behind his glasses when he looks over. It’s odd, to think over the Summer he’s somehow forgotten to remember your schedule. He used to know it off by heart. You skate every Saturday morning before the hockey team starts their practice. Realisation crosses his features, like the ghost of a past life passing through his eyes. “Shit, I’ll pull them off. Sorry.” James apologises, pulling his feet from the shelf and sitting forward like he’s getting ready to call Sirius and Remus in.

“No, it’s fine. I’m cool as long as they are.” You take a seat, unzipping your skate bag.

James nods, swallows. The silence is thick, almost suffocating. There’s no flirty conversation, no teasing, no kind words of encouragement. Things have changed. As much as James promised they wouldn’t – they have. It has a lot to do with how things ended, you suppose. As long as you were together, you’d always thought it’d be your careers, the distance, that split you up. Your ex-boyfriend places his feet on the rubber mats below the bench, bounces his legs. “They’ll stay out of your way, just watch out for stray pucks.”

“Got it. You okay?” You ask as you sit down to tie your skates. “You look exhausted.”

James’ hazel eyes follow Sirius and Remus around the rink. You don’t think they’ve noticed your presence, yet. Content in their own world. “Yeah. All good.”

It’s a lie. You both know it. But you’re not the person James is going to talk to about that, anymore. You don’t have a response for him, so you take your skate guards off and leave him to stew in the box. The air is cold against your face, a pleasant feeling. Sirius and Remus have scratched the ice a little with their skates and sticks, but it’ll be fine. They hear your blades scratching the closer you get, turn to you as you approach.

“Hey, I just want to run my routine a couple times before tomorrow. I’ll try stay out of your way.” You tell them.

Sirius’ eyes flick to James almost protectively, like he’s checking his captain, his best friend, is aware of your presence. Since you and James broke up, you haven’t heard much from Sirius. It’s not that he’s picking sides – though, you wouldn’t blame him for picking James. What they have is unique. They’re bonded. But it hurts a little. Stings, because there was a time where Sirius was one of your best friends. You’d all been close. It feels now, like Lily and Remus are the only ones who make an effort.

“You have practice tonight, your ankle going to be okay?” Remus asks, pushing the puck back and forth absentmindedly.

“How’s your knee?” You deflect.

Remus bites back a grin and scoffs good naturedly, but Sirius’ eyes fly down to Remus’ knee as though he’ll be able to see through layers of clothes and skin, right down to the muscle. He looks almost panicked. Then, he looks back up, icy blues lit with a fire you’ve never been on the receiving end of. “He’s fine.”

“Relax, Sirius. I know he is.” Your eyes burn, a little, “I’ll try stay out of your way.”

Remus mutters something to Sirius – likely chastising him. You’re on the other side of the rink, pretending not to care, so you don’t hear it.

They stay out of your way for the majority of your ice time. Only one stray puck gets in your way, and James calls out in a panic when you almost land on it. Instead, you miss a jump and shout a shaky thanks as you clamber back to your feet on the ice. He stays firmly in the box – making you wonder why he even bothered to come to the ice this morning, at all. Not that it’s any of your business. Remus and Sirius run drills on one half of the ice whilst you weave in and around them. It’s not until you’re on your last run through that your foot goes numb. It’s quick, instant. You land on your ankle, there’s no feeling there, your leg buckles.

You hit the ice with a nasty amount of noise. Skates scraping and clashing, a whoosh of pained air. Your hip hurts, a searing pain that you already know will need to be iced. It takes a minute to gather your surroundings, turning until you’re sitting up. “Jesus,” You mutter, angry. It feels like this will never end – the numbness, the frustration, falling. It’s been months of your ankle going numb mid practice. Months of falling on your ass. “Fuck!”

Remus is at your side in an instant, Sirius close behind him. “Okay, up. Up, C’mon.”

You know you can’t get up, but you refuse to admit why. No one knows. Not even Pomfrey, not even Pince. You can’t run the risk of needing a surgery to fix the nerve endings. Can’t risk having to sit this season out. “Remus, give me a minute.”

“No, the longer you sit there, the less likely you’re going to go again. Up. Now.” Your best friend holds his hand out.

He’s just trying to help. But there’s anger simmering in your chest. Hot and raw and you want to lash out. For the first time, you think you understand why Remus is the way he is. So, you look at him, really, truly look at him and you think he understands. James crouches in front of you, eyes brimming with concern. You hate how much relief the sight of him brings you. Remus turns and drags Sirius off. They go back to their own corner of the ice. Your eyes well with tears.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asks.

His hands rest on the skate covering your bad ankle. You can’t feel them. The thought panics you because what if? What if one day, the feeling never comes back and it’s too late? James notices the fear in your eyes, his finger reaches up to press into your calf and you flinch. A look of understanding passes across his features, brows scrunching and dipping in the middle. “No one knows?”

“No one can know.”

James looks like he disagrees, but he nods. “I’ll bare your weight to get you up. Feet flat or Remus will notice, but weight bare on your good ankle.”

He doesn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t care. It’s not his role, anymore. But you nod, regardless. Even if the idea of him helping you lights a furious rage inside of you because how dare he act like he gives a shit now? You need to get off the ice, though. So you give him both of your hands, left blade flat on the ice as he pulls you up. Your hip screams at you, but you ignore it in favour of James’ socked feet. He’s run out onto the ice without shoes on.

“You’re going to get frost-bite.” You murmur, eyes flicking up to find his already on you.

He looks sad. Nostalgic, maybe. “Worth it.”

Your heart cracks open in your chest as you let James lead you off of the ice, all the while praying he doesn’t go full James and snitch on you to Pince, thinking he’s doing you some sort of favour. You have it under control. You’re dealing with it.

Maybe just not as well as you’d originally thought.

Regulus –

Barty is lying, rather annoyingly, half on Regulus’ legs and half on the bed. But he won’t ask Barty to move. As much as a distraction he’s made himself, Regulus finds he quite enjoys the idea that Barty wants to be this close to him. The sketch book on his lap stares up at him tauntingly. There’s half-finished scribbles of planets and stars; none of which Regulus has the energy to perfect. He does, however, have a strong notion to draw the way Barty’s body is curling around his legs. Regulus isn’t sure how to feel about that, so he ignores it; because if he thinks too much about it, he’ll start to push Barty away.

He’s aware that this isn’t going to last. Just like he’s aware that after his thesis paper is published, he’ll be returning to Grimmauld Place. Taking over Black Industries is probably at the bottom of the list of things Regulus wants to do with his life. But the thing about Barty Crouch is that he’s persuasive. He’s irresistible, as Regulus has come to realise. It’s more than just his regal looking cheek bones and sinful smile, his toned body, and tattoos that make Regulus more inspired to draw than he ever has; if only to one day see one of his drawings on Barty’s pale skin – it’s also his carefree attitude, his rebellious nature, and the big, bold, ‘fuck you’ middle finger he holds up to the world that makes Regulus want to get wrapped up in him and never get free.

He wishes he could keep Barty, but he can’t. So, he won’t draw him. For now, he’ll enjoy his rebellious streak brought about by the sarcastic, smart mouth, piece of shit guy he met in the art supply store in the spring and worry about the calendar counting down his return to Grimmauld place later.

Admitting defeat, Regulus places his sketchbook and pencil on his bedside table. Barty stirs at the movement, head straining to look at Regulus with a devious grin. He threads his fingers through the soft strands of Barty’s inky black hair and smiles softly. It’s obvious his smile isn’t believable, because Barty huffs, pushes himself up until he’s straddling Regulus’ hips. He’s not in the mood for whatever Barty is about to initiate, but Barty seems to notice that because his eyes soften. “What’s on your mind?”

Regulus studies Barty. He really is very beautiful. He’d be easy to draw. The itch is there. But he can’t. So, he won’t. “I was thinking that I can’t focus when you’re lounging over me like a stray cat.” It’s obvious in his voice that it’s a lie. But the good thing about Barty is that he doesn’t push Regulus to talk when he clearly doesn’t want to.

“We both know that you’re the cat, in this relationship, Regulus. You’re all claws and uptight attitude.” The boy on top of Regulus quips, a smile that tells Regulus he’s rather pleased with himself.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not all claws.” Because Regulus knows he’s uptight.

Barty grins. It’s charming and knowing, practically dripping with sin. He reaches for the neckline of his t-shirt; acts like he’s going to pull it upward. “Should we look at my back?”

Regulus holds the hem around Barty’s waist and tugs, scowling. “No, let’s not.”

Barty laughs, collapsing on top of Regulus. He enjoys the weight, presses his fingers into his shoulder blades because he knows he likes rough touches. Gentle touches make him jumpy. He listens to Barty laugh for a while, enjoys the sound of it vibrating against the skin of his neck. He stares at the ceiling and wonders if he should tell Barty that one of the reasons he’s struggling to draw is probably because his estranged brother has cropped his ugly head up.

Barty is good with advice. Mainly because the majority of his advice is to get high and ignore all of your problems. His mother would pitch a fit if she knew all the shit Regulus was getting up to, these days. She calls once a week, always short and curt. It’s more of a call to make sure Regulus is behaving, than to check in on how he’s actually doing. He’s not sure what he’s going to tell her when she asks who his student assistant ended up being. If she knew, she’d likely pull him out of university all together and ban him from leaving the house ever again. Not that he had any choice in who it was.

“Sirius is my student assistant.” He breathes out, the admittance bringing a hollow ache to his chest.

He doesn’t talk much about Sirius. Mainly because it hurts, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that as much as he tried, nothing was ever good enough for his older brother. Not enough to make him stay. And Regulus knows that expecting Sirius to stay was unfair – maybe it’s more to do with the idea that he left him there. Scared, alone. Baring the crown that Sirius found too heavy. Barty lifts his head until his eyes meet Regulus’. Reading, trying to gage how he should treat this. He’s not sure if he wants Barty to get him high and help him say fuck you to his problems, or if he wants him to offer to kick the shit out of Sirius.

“Okay. Go on.” Barty urges, fingers tracing Regulus’ collar bones.

The feeling grounds him as he huffs and closes his eyes. Thinking. Trying to sort through his emotions because, really, he’s not sure how he feels about it.

“He said I’m just like our father. I was a dick to him.”

Barty smiles sadly. “You were surprised to see him.”

“I knew I’d see him, eventually. I mean, I’ve done a good job of avoiding him. But I thought, maybe naively, when I came to Hogwarts that maybe there’d be a chance he’d want to explain. But he didn’t. He just looked at me with pure hatred and stormed off into the stacks.” It sounds childish, the way Regulus’ voice takes on a petulant whine.

But Barty nods, like he understands. He doesn’t. He doesn’t have siblings, but he does have an uncomfortable family situation. So, he’s sympathetic, at least. “Maybe he’s scared to apologise because he thinks you won’t hear him.” Barty offers.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.”

The other boy scoffs amusedly, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You think he’d want me to be a part of his life? If I could forgive him.” Regulus asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

Barty presses his lips to Regulus’. It’s soft, caring. Rare, for them. “I dunno Sirius. I’ve never met him. But I do know that anyone who doesn’t want a part of you in their life is a fucking idiot. And you don’t need another idiot in your life. You already have me.”

He likes that answer, so he kisses Barty until they’re both a mess of tangled limbs and swollen lips. Until it turns out that there’s other ways to forget his problems. And all of them suddenly have a lot to do with Barty Crouch.

James –

He’s pacing. He knows he’s pacing, and he knows that his footsteps are clunking against the wooden floorboards, and that Remus will likely lose his mind if he continues. But James can’t stop. It’s how he thinks, how he processes. Years of thinking on his feet, of having to have a mind as sharp as a tack, having to move whilst processing a hundred different outcomes. The only outcome he can think of right now is you hating him even more than you already do when he inevitably goes to Pince and tells her that your ankle isn’t properly healed.

He did the necessary reading to conclude that prolonged numbness is definitely not a normal side effect of having a reconstructive surgery. A temporary side effect, yes. But it’s been months since your surgery. That’s not a good sign, according to a very reliable source (if you count Reddit as a reliable source; James isn’t sure if he does). And he knows he’s catastrophising. He’s prone to it. But he’s worried. And wouldn’t he rather you hate him that little bit more and eventually be able to get back on the ice next year (after another surgery, Reddit had confirmed) than risk it all now and never skate again? James doesn’t feel qualified to make that decision. He hasn’t been a captain long, and even then, it’s not like he’s in charge of people’s livelihoods. He wouldn’t have taken the job if that was the case.

James knows how much Nationals means for you – it’s the gateway to the World Championships, to the Olympics. He cost you that last year, and he hates himself for it. Is he really willing to do that to you again? He’s not sure. So, he paces. He loses count of how many times he picks up his phone and almost hits the green call button next to your name. He’s not even sure you’d answer, even less sure of what he’d say to you if, by some miracle, you answered. ‘I think you should miss out on Nationals again, this year, have another risky surgery and hope for the best. Okay, bye!’ doesn’t exactly seem like a good plan to him.

Remus is the embodiment of exhaustion when he pushes James’ bedroom door open and leans against the frame like a parent ready to chastise their hyper-active child. James cringes. Remus needs all the rest he can get. Between hospital appointments, hockey, and his classes, he never stops. “Sorry. I’ll try be quieter.” His voice comes out rushed and anxious, an alarm bell sounding off to alert Remus of his worry.

The taller boy tilts his head and studies James. Sometimes, he loves how perceptive Remus can be. It helps offence, and it generally means that he’s a better friend. But now, he shifts awkwardly because for the second time in the space of a year, he’s keeping a secret from his best friend. He hates lying to Remus. But your words play on a loop in his head. No one can know. You’d been so scared. Terrified, even, at the idea of everything you’ve worked for over the summer being ripped away from you. Call James selfish, but he doesn’t particularly want to be the one to do it. Even though he knows he should because it will be better in the long run.

“Or” Remus suggests, “You could stop pacing and tell me what’s going on with Y/N.”

James opens his mouth. Subsequently closes it because he doesn’t know what to say. He won’t betray your trust. He hates lying to Remus. But he knows, ultimately, if he really doesn’t want to talk about it, his best friend won’t push him.

He feels himself shrug, his best attempt at feigning nonchalance. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Remus’ honey eyes read like a book. He knows James is lying, scrutinising him whilst simultaneously trying to figure out why he’s lying for you. As far as Remus knows he’s on bad terms with you. And technically, that’s true. But James would give anything to fix that. He just hasn’t figured out how, yet.

“You know,” Remus pushes off the door frame, ever the one for imparting wisdom in the most dramatic of ways and pushes his hands into his pockets. “If I didn’t know well enough, I’d say you’re trying to decide her future for her. I can tell you right now, that won’t end well. Whatever it is she’s hiding, I’ve been there. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but one she has to do on her own.

“Don’t make her hate you any more than she does now, James. I’m still rooting for you.”

“You know?” James asks, throat dry.

“About the numbness or you cheating on her?” Remus asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he leaves James standing, alone, in the middle of his room with a sinking feeling that he’s let everyone down.

He’s not sure how Remus knows. Maybe you told him even though you’d told James you weren’t going to tell anyone.

An amicable breakup, you’d suggested. It’ll save us both the embarrassment.

He hates himself. Hates himself for all of the things he wishes he’d sat you down and forced you to listen to over the summer. Hates that he didn’t fight for you more. There’s so much you don’t know. So much you don’t want to hear. So much James wishes he’d done differently. Starting with how he wishes he’d run out onto the ice, consequences be damned, the minute he saw you land on your ankle, the minute he heard you sobbing in pain. He wishes he hadn’t walked away, feeling sorry for himself that he’d ripped Nationals from you. That, despite how hard he’d tried, he’d still failed you.

And he hates even more that he even considered doing it for a second time.

James sits on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, and he decides there and then that he’s not going to tell Pince. But he is, even if you fight him every step of the way, going to find a way to fix this for you. You’ll have a chance at Nationals if it’s the last thing James does.

And it starts with a call to Euphemia Potter.

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techav · 18 days ago

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On Keeping Time

To run a simple program, a computer needs some kind of storage, and some kind of input/output device. To run a simple operating system, a computer will also need some random-access memory for holding onto information temporarily. To run a sophisticated operating system that supports many users and programs reliably, a computer will also need some way to make sure one user doesn't hog resources and prevent other users' programs from running.

My Wrap030 homebrew computer currently has a flash ROM which holds a bootloader program from starting other programs from disk. It has 16MB of RAM. It has 9 total serial ports for I/O. It just needs that last thing to be able to run a sophisticated operating system.

I've written before about how computers can share a single processor between multiple users or programs. The simplest option is to have each program periodically yield control back to the system so that the next program can run for a little while. The problem with this approach is if a program malfunctions and never yields control back to the system, then no other program can run.

The solution is to have an external interrupt that can tell the CPU it's time to switch programs. Each program can be guaranteed to have its chance to run because if a program tries to run too long, that interrupt will come to force a switch to the next program.

The way this is typically accomplished is with a periodic timer — ticking clock that interrupts the CPU regardless of what it's doing.

And that's what my Wrap030 project is missing. I need a timer interrupt.

The catch is, my system has always been a little fragile. I have it running well right now with three expansion boards, but there's always a risk of it being very unhappy if I try to add another expansion board. If I could somehow pull a timer interrupt out of what I already have, that would be ideal.

Nearly all of the glue logic pulling this system together is programmable logic in the form of CPLDs. This gives me the flexibility to add new features without having to rework physical circuitry. As it happens, the logic running my DRAM card currently consumes under half of the resources available in the card's CPLD. It also has several spare I/O pins, and is wired to more of the CPU bus than any other chip in the system.

So I added a timer interrupt to my DRAM controller.

It is very minimal — just a 16-bit register that starts counting down every clock cycle as soon as it's loaded. When the timer gets to 1, it asserts one of those spare I/O pins to interrupt the CPU.

And all it took was a couple bodge wires and a little extra logic.

I put together a quick test program to check if the timer was running. The program would spin in a loop waiting to see if a specific address in memory changed. When it changed, it would print out that it had, and then go right back into the loop. Meanwhile, the interrupt service routine would change the same address in memory every time the timer expired.

This is great! It was the last significant piece of hardware I was missing to be able to run a proper operating system like Unix or Linux — which has always been a goal of the project. While I still have much to learn before I can attempt to get a proper OS running, I can still put this new timer to use.

I had previously built my Multibasic kernel to run cooperatively. Each user instance of BASIC would yield control whenever it needed to read or write to its terminal (which it does at every line while running a BASIC program, checking for the Ctrl-C stop sequence). This worked well enough, but a particularly complex BASIC program could still slow down other users' programs.

Converting my Multibasic kernel from Cooperative multitasking to Preemptive multitasking was actually fairly easy. I just needed to initialize the timer at startup, and add an interrupt service routine to switch to the next user.

(It's not really something that can be seen in a screenshot, but it's doing the thing, I promise.)

Now that I have all of the requisite hardware, I guess I need to dive into learning how to customize and build an operating system for a new machine. It's something I have always wanted to do.

#mc68030 #motorola 68k #motorola 68030 #wrap030 #retro computing #homebrew computing #homebrew computer

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otomes-world · 1 year ago

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Six impossible things before breakfast

Little twist with sentient twst au, yes, I didn't expect this either. Masterlist with more works here

We've probably all heard the joke about "How many light bulbs does it take to (insert whatever)." Who would have thought that you would use a slightly modified version of it: how many more coincidences must happen to realize the truth.

Although can anyone really blame you for not wanting to admit that you are a bunch of colored pixels created purely for entertainment purposes? No, it even sounds nice. After all, your purpose was to create extras, a stage on which the main characters performed and shone. Those who had faces.

Did you always have yours? Could you always see it in the mirror in the morning?

Did figurative shivers run down your spine every time a faceless classmate addressed you? One of ten, hundreds, exactly the same. Have the main bunch had the same problem? That's the question you'd been asking yourself lately. Did they shrug off empty, replaceable shells, or at least for a second consider them their equals?

Perhaps the question should have been asked differently. Was this in the order of things for them, because the thought of the incorrectness of worldly norms did not flash through their heads. Or it was something simple and very banal - they did not realize that they were part of the game.

Were you special? The thought was flattering, but it was stupid to start turning up your nose. Maybe the supreme programmer, like the smart guys from Ignihyde, could consider you a virus, a bug, an annoying nuisance, which can be gotten rid of in a couple of seconds. Click and that's it, your file would be deleted.

The idea that death could be more than just literal took you by surprise.

It all started with a strange feeling of déjà vu, with a strange cyclical nature of what was happening. How the seasons did not change according to the laws of nature or, on the contrary, lasted longer than expected. Sometimes you wondered what month was going on, at least by counting. Or how you couldn’t say with certainty what year of study you were in. When was your graduation? Would it ever come?

How many times did the main characters celebrate their birthday? How many times had you celebrated it? Did you celebrate it from the start?

Lessons

Breaks

Exams

Holidays

Lessons

Was there an end to this merging stream of eternal students? Was the dormitory assignment ceremony that important? How many real “first-year students” were admitted each year? Why couldn't your educational journey end? Time adjusted and obeyed an invisible force; it existed only when it was convenient for someone.

Catching the attention of the local spotlight and getting on stage was the best way to get labeled as a "bug" and ask to be removed. However, the main threat was only the erasure of memory.

The next discovery was doubt about one’s own “specialness.” When consciousness had nothing to do, it began to cling to different details, trying to look for differences in a series of events repeated in the film.

When you knew what to look for, small mistakes that were not noticeable at first glance stand out more than usual. A slight shadow of boredom on the faces of the main ones. Lack of interest in the educational process and exams. As if only one “exam” was important in a bunch of exactly the same events. When the first years of Heartslabyul signed a contract with Ashengrotto.

With new information in mind, it became easier to identify important “events” and track time based on them. By how many times they were repeated in the endless flow of time. Taking notes and somehow recording data was more dangerous than you thought, all that was left was to come up with methods known to you alone. For example, in a dorm room on the bedside table there was a cluster of glasses, each containing specific color of pencils.

Did your roommates start to think you were weird and obsessed with order and cleanliness? Their right. You didn't care what they thought, besides, they would forget about it with the coming of a new day.

In order not to completely go crazy, you began to peer into the “faces” of other students, trying to spot at least a feature that distinguishes one from another. Either this world was too lazy, creating copy after copy in every dorm, or there was no point in trying. If you somehow came to terms with the feeling of the meaninglessness of what was happening, then the appearance of one student in several places at the same time still caused rejection.

Disgusting

If this world was someone’s experiment, then why were events cyclical? If this was a cage, then where was the exit. If this was a prison, then who was being held in it?

You made a mistake in observing a person without magic from another world. Trying to figure out whether Yuu's "world" was truly different or just as much a part of predestination as everything around. Was “Yuu” really the main one or just an extra? You could have sworn they didn't have a face. At least such clear features as all the main ones. Just as there was no character, how in each of the repeating events they could behave differently.

It was a breath of fresh air in the routine of never-ending study. The watching of the only part capable of changing in the world, subject to the same rules.

That's why, when one of the main ones suddenly approached you, you thought you were dreaming. Whether it was possible to fall asleep in the simulation was another question. Usually you went to bed, closed eyes, only to open them the next second to the sound of the alarm clock.

"Can I help you with something?" You smiled politely, but was it worth it? Could the main bunch distinguish between persons different from their privileged group.

Hunt. Was that his name? You weren't completely sure. He was part of something forbidden, something to be avoided at all costs. Part of the three “don’ts”: don’t look for information;don’t mention; don’t give yourself unnecessary temptations. Returning to the present moment, he just looked into your eyes with his constant smile, as if trying to find confirmation of something.

Like a true NPC, you continued to stand, frozen in one position and waiting for his answer. Until awareness came as abruptly as his appearance in principle. He looked straight into your eyes. Could he see your face the same way you saw it in the mirror? How long ago? Could the rest of the main ones see you too?

A billion questions were spinning in head at the same time as you tried to come up with a suitable excuse and reason to leave. The changes turned out to be too unexpected and frightening. Perhaps with the advent of a new “day” everything would return to normal.

“Is there a knight in the world who is not ready to devote all his deeds to one and only one, if this opens the veil of secrets at least a little? Will it allow him to find out what thoughts are spinning in head?”

It's a pity he was not a knight. Even though each word was pronounced with a special intonation, you only thought about how much water there was in his speech. Unfortunately, saying this out loud was an unaffordable luxury.

"..Is that so?"

“You are right, an étoile (star), I may be not one of their noble number, but even so I am not able to deny their order.” You let him continue, mentally counting down the minutes until the bell rang for lesson. “I may not have a sword in sheath, but It won`t change a way I live! Your smile can make my whole heart melt. There isn't lie in way I felt”

“I’m not good at poetry, but the rhyme is lame, Sir Hunt,” if it’s there.

“You’re right, writing poems is just one of my hobbies, to which I devote my few free leisure hours,” he continued, as if your words didn’t hurt him at all. “I hasten to assure you that there was no malicious intent in my actions. This modest hunter only wanted to greet a new connoisseur of everything beautiful and interesting."

No matter how much you hate beating around the bush, doubts creeping in from randomly thrown words. Sometimes the phrases spoken directly were the most frightening. However, not wanting to part with your role as an extra - which was burdensome, but at the same time giving a semblance of freedom - you continued to pretend to be an NPC.

"Should I congratulate you?.. Congratulations!" Any member of the film club would envy your feigned sincerity. A bell in three, two, "I don’t dare detain you any longer.”

The unsaid `like you would me` hung in the air. You had to hold out for the few remaining hours until the end. Fortunately, the main one did let you go, but smile, saying that its owner knew everything in the world, left an unpleasant aftertaste. One that your intuition suggested would accompany you for the next days.

It's going to be a very long a few hours.

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galdra-studios · 5 months ago

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Happy New Year Everyone!

Time has once again, like a gust of wind impossible to grasp, rushed by and left us breathless. Between family gatherings, cookie baking and a bad cold to top it all off, December went by in a flash and here we stand at the start of a brand new year, out of breath, with runny noses, but smiling, because despite all the tumult, 2024 holds many great memories for us to look back on. So let’s take a moment to do just that!

The big event of the year, of course, was the Arcadia Fallen II Kickstarter! So much work went into planning it, from designing merchandise and promotional material, to building and releasing our very first playable demo. We’ve tried running Kickstarters a couple of times now, and we’ve learned a lot from each of them, but things online change so quickly these days, there was really no way to know how it would do. Thankfully, we were blown away by the result! We’re so grateful to all of you who supported us and we’re looking forward to using that generosity to make the game the best it can be^^

What else…? Oh! We continued working on the game! xD We’ve been writing so many new scenes, character sprites have been drawn, music composed, and weird sound effects recorded! Backgrounds have been drawn, GUI updated and it’s just a satisfying feeling to see all these different parts of the game coming together. We’re looking forward to continuing production-mode in the new year.

One of the things we’re looking forward to in the new year is getting more mini-games into the game. Daniel has been swamped by other tasks for months now so it’s gonna be great having him back into programmer mode again. We’re gonna continue producing assets like music and art and we’re gonna be working on hooking scenes up, putting all the pieces together. One big milestone we’re looking towards is wrapping up all the content for the extended demo so we can share it with you all. We hope you’ll look forward to that^^

Thank you so much for your support this year! We’re looking forward to making 2025 a year to remember!

Cheers!

- The Galdra Team

#arcadia fallen #galdra studios #indiedev #visual novel #vndev #vn development #indiegame #arcadia fallen ii

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hyunjilicious · 2 years ago

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dog walkers [hwang hyunjin x reader]

Summary: it wasn't enough that Hyunjin already missed you beyond words, but then he also had to sit down with Felix and reminisce about one of your guys' best dates and make everything worse. (FLUFF) 2.2k + texts

Warnings: none except for hyunjin being absolutely adorable and this being completely self indulgent and not edited ❤️ (also pls ignore the fact that halfway through this I forgot how time zones work, just go with it. Thanks 😖)

"What's my ideal date…" Felix hummed, scrolling through one of the online quizzes his phone recommended. It was the middle of summer, the intolerable heat of Seoul's July forbidding any of the boys from leaving the house.

"Yeah.." Hyunjin chimed in, his phone instantly falling down onto the couch they were both sitting on. "What is your ideal date? I never heard you talk about it before - about dates in general"

"Probably because I've never been on one," Felix shrugged. "I mean, I have… but just like.. casual dates. I've never actually been on a 'let me take you out' kind of date"

"Casual dates count too!"

"All we did was sit down and talk. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change that memory for the world, but now that I think about it, I kinda wanna go on crazy dates too. Like you and Y/n used to do"

Just the sound of your name brought a smile to Hyunjin's lips. The memories flashed before his eyes at lightning speed, from the first time he saw you, 3 years ago, to the last text you sent him, which had been that morning. "I miss those"

"Which was the best one?"

The enthusiasm in Felix's voice somehow made Hyunjin sad. "Urgh, don't make me do this. I already miss her so much"

"Don't pretend talking about Y/n is not your favorite thing to do"

Again, he couldn't help but smile. "Not when she's on the other side of the globe"

"You're just grumpy today" Felix shook his head. "Do you want me to show you a picture of her? Maybe it'll cheer you up"

"Pff, yeah right" Hyunjin threw an eye roll and pointed his phone in Felix's direction. On the lockscreen there was a picture of you two hugging in front of a blossoming tree. The sun was setting but the gentle and warm artificial light from the fairy lights made it so that both your wide smiles and the flowers around you were perfectly contoured and visible. "I have her as my wallpaper"

"Aww" Felix pouted, grabbing the phone and bringing it closer so he could examine the details a bit more easily. "And it's such a nice picture too."

"Yeah, it is"

"Come on, tell me about your best date. I know you're dying to talk about her"

He wanted to refuse. He knew he should've refused because just the thought of that night filled his heart with so much pain. It was now that he finally understood the true meaning of the word bittersweet. But it was too late, his heart rate already picked up and before he knew it, he was settling better against the cushions on his corner of the couch, feeding off of Felix's radiant and awaiting smile.

"Ok, but I'd like to start by apologizing to all the other dates we've had, because I feel like an asshole just choosing one-"

"But you know exactly which one it is"

"Yes'' Hyunjin laughed with no hesitation. "Ok, so I don't know if I already told you about this date. I might have, it was the best day ever"

"I don't think so," Felix dreamily shook his head. "I think I'd remember"

"It was right after Y/n got accepted into the programme at work. The day I realized she's leaving. Like she's legit leaving. Like I knew she'd leave, there was no doubt in my mind she'd get accepted, she's the best at what she does, but reality hit me when she showed me the email"

"I remember the email," Felix laughed out loud. "You called me crying, remember?"

"Yeah…"

"One eye crying happy tears, one eye crying sad tears"

"Leave me alone" Hyunjin exclaimed with a fit of giggles, knowing damn well there was no way to deny it. That whirlwind of emotions was still familiar to him, he was still going through it, one day so proud of you his heart could burst, and the next, so pained by your absence that he could just drop everything and hop on a plane. "I was going through something. That was what made us come up with these ideas for the dates. We always had fun staying indoors and doing absolutely nothing together, but when I realized she'd be leaving for two whole years I kinda freaked."

"Yeah, exactly! Like the other person being there is enough, but if you can do something different, why not do it?"

"Yes. And the first date we had after this was the best day of my life"

"I remember you made a list at one point? The planetarium, you wanted to go hiking, all that stuff-"

"Yeah, well, the first date wasn't so-" Hyunjin trailed off in search of the right word, "Date-y"

"What did you guys do?"

"We decided to walk dogs"

"That's such a Y/n thing, I love it!" Felix laughed, his head thrown back as he clapped his hands. "And no, you haven't told me about this one, I'm pretty sure"

"It means I was saving it for the right moment"

"How many dogs did you walk?"

"Yeah… about that. Y/n posted an ad somewhere, mostly as a joke. We didn't think anyone would actually ask us to walk their dogs, especially because it was on a Saturday. Like during the weekends people actually have time to do this… so we just said ok to every person that contacted us and before we knew it, it was Saturday morning and we had 9 dogs to pick up"

"9!?"

"Yes… I know"

"How did you-"

"Don't ask… please don't ask. They all pooped at least twice and it wasn't just small dogs… every one of them was pulling in different directions and ok, I'm totally used to sticking my hand in Kkami's mouth to take out whatever gross thing he found on the ground and decided to chew, but I wasn't familiar with all these other dogs! Other chihuahuas are fine, but any dog bigger than a beagle? Never doing that again"

"Jesus Christ" Felix was hardly able to contain his laughter, the mental picture being just what he needed. "Only you two could've had this happen"

"It was her idea!"

"I'd be surprised if you didn't jump up and down in excitement when you heard it"

"I might have, but still, I'm not the one who thought 9 was a reasonable number"

"How did you even get to the dog park?"

"We took the car, obviously."

"As if you and Y/n in a car alone with 9 dogs is so much better"

"Hey, we got it done, that's what matters"

"How is this your best date, I don't get it"

"Maybe it was the trauma we went through together. It brought us closer. No, I'm kidding. But it actually was very fun. Once we got to the park, I swear it was like heaven. They were so, so sweet and adorable. And we didn't even have to sweat. All we did was sit down on the grass while they chased each other and played around us. I've never had my face licked so much. We were literally covered in dogs. And at one point-" Hyunjin said with glee and sat up from the couch to exemplify. "- I'd just say turn around and they'd all turn around! Or sit, and they'd all sit. It was like a little dance, they were so happy. It was the best"

"Ok, I take it back. It actually sounds nice" Felix agreed.

"But then we had to take them all back" Hyunjin sighed, his smile slowly fading off his face as he sat back down. With his legs now gathered to his chest, he continued to speak. "I was starting to get attached. And most of the people that asked us to walk their dogs were older people, you know. And when we brought the dogs back, they were so nice. We obviously didn't want to accept any money, but most of them refused to let us go just like that. One lady gave us flowers from her garden, and I actually painted them. I'd show it to you but I gave the painting to Y/n. And others also gave us pie, and fruits. And like you could tell some of them didn't have much, but they still wanted to share it with us"

A little frown settled on Felix's face as he blinked a few times, "I would've cried" he said sincerely, his eyes not showing even one glint of sarcasm.

"Oh, we did," Hyunjin nodded with a giggle. "We cried on our way back. Not ugly cried, but we cried"

"It counts"

"Yeah.. and by the time we were done with the dogs, I don't remember what time it was exactly, afternoon anyway, we didn't really know what else to do. We initially planned to go to a restaurant and eat, but we were already full. So we settled for a walk, and we found online this garden in the center of the city - thought it would be nice to go check it out. But when we got there, there was a wedding going on"

"A wedding?"

"Yeah, and the problem was that we didn't realize it was a wedding.. we thought it was just busy so we just strolled in not even bothered by the fact that everyone was dressed in suits and fancy dresses. And so we went towards the back of the garden, where there weren't that many people. It was gorgeous, by the way. You have to see it too, it feels like a different world."

"So you crashed a wedding"

"Well… technically yes, but when we realized what was going on, the bride and groom were very nice about it. They hadn't rented the whole thing so we could've been there for a whole different reason. Like we could've just been there to eat or something but we didn't know. They offered to let us stay if we wanted to dance or something, which was probably just them being polite - we obviously didn't, but we did take some pictures! I mean their photographer took them for us-"

"Your lockscreen!"

"Yes, exactly. And then we left. We stayed there for like 10 minutes maybe? So it wasn't that big of a deal, but we interacted with so many nice people that day. Like, how often does that happen? I don't know, it filled me with joy"

"I can tell, it sounds like a really nice break. Especially since it was the first date like this"

"Yeah… it was very nice. After that we just did a little bit of shopping, went home, cooked together and went to sleep. Like, nothing major happened, but it's still one of the best days of my life. And Y/n was so happy. She didn't stop smiling the whole day. And until then she had been so stressed with work, but that day she was so relaxed, and I got a full day of Y/n just being herself around me, with literally no worries in the world. And I think that's what makes that day so special, because others have technically been more fun, but as time passed and the day she was supposed to leave started approaching, she stopped being so.. I don't know, free. Um… yeah, I don't know what I'm saying-" Hyunjin stopped himself to take a deep breath. "I'm rambling"

"No, I know what you mean," Felix reassured him. "I miss her too."

"What time is it?" Hyunjin asked but was also the one to tap his phone screen to check. When the picture of you two in the garden popped up, both of them smiled. "It's almost 5pm"

"Got any plans?"

"Yes, pester Y/n until she gives me attention. But she's usually working at his hour so I don't want to bother her… too much"

"Send her a selfie" Felix suggested, "It'll make her smile"

"No, I look horrendous. All I've done today was sweat"

"Come on, you could send her a picture of your pinky finger and she'll still find something nice to say about it"

"Yeah, she would," Hyunjin giggled, "somehow…"

"Just like you would, about her pinky"

"Hey, she has very nice hands. And I'm not just saying that"

"I know you're not"

Shortly after, the topic of conversation swiftly shifted. They left the couch in search of food, and neither of them refrained from complaining when they realized there was none left and they had to cook. It was a daily occurance, the complaining and the cooking, but today it was different. While Hyunjin did his part, he moved a bit slower, showed less enthusiasm and his usual jokes were at best delayed, but mostly absent.

While they both knew the reason, they didn't want to address it. Felix knew his friend would come to him and speak up if he needed someone to listen to him, but he also knew that wasn't enough. Maybe that conversation really wasn't the best idea.

The day drained itself pretty slowly, especially because the only person he wanted to interact with was busy and on the other side of the globe. He wasn't in the mood for anything else and thought he'd go insane, so there was only one thing left for him to do.

#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fluff #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz au #skz fake texts #skz imagines

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dancingontheblades · 9 months ago

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Things to read while Can You Hear My Heartbeat is on vacation #4

Beneath the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights

Summary:

Viktor had forgotten when he had last felt the rush of adrenaline giving way to drunken euphoria. As the photographers raised their cameras, he hid the emptiness in his heart behind a dazzling smile, sculptured to perfection in two decades of competitive figure skating. Flashlights ripped through the arena like sheet lightning on a murky summer night. Viktor swept back his hair and lifted the golden disk that hung heavy around his neck to his lips. A collective sigh rippled through the crowd as he performed the ritualistic kiss of his medal. Viktor flashed the press another star-smile. Then he hopped off the podium. Twenty years of being Russia’s poster athlete have drained Viktor Nikiforov off the passion he once had held for his sport, but caught up in duty and habit he cannot escape the icon he has become. Thoughts of retirement cross his mind when a drunken Japanese Cinderella dances into his life, stirring a dream of life and love beyond scores and medals. But that which sets his heart on fire also holds the power to throw Viktor into an even darker state of mind. This canon story covers the four months between the GPF and Viktor deciding to become Yuuri’s coach.

Tags: Depressed Viktor, light angst, character study, Viktor lives in his own world, the making of Eros and Agape, lonely Viktor, creative burnout, past Nikimetti, Yakov and Lilia are still married (but for how long?), this story made my beta cry

Excerpt below

Excerpt:

“How do you feel having broken your world record in the free programme for the third time?”

“Where will you compete next?”

“Now that you’ve won the Grand Prix Final more often than every other skater in history, what is your next goal?”

“You kept surprising the audience season after season. Do you ever run out of ideas?”

“There have been rumours circulating about you wanting to retire. What are your thoughts about your future career? How will you reassure your fans?”

Viktor tucked his black necktie into the waistcoat of his dark-grey three-piece suit and regarded himself in the mirror. As so often, his silver-blonde bangs exhibited an irritating life on their own. He returned to the bathroom.

I wish I had known my hair would do this before I had it cut, he thought as he fixed the stubborn cowlick with hair wax. Now, it’s too thin to let it grow long again. What late-adolescent fit made me think short hair would give me a more mature image?

One last time, he checked his mirror image before he returned to the bedroom. The day had been crammed with gala practice, interviews, gala, and more interviews he had braved with non-committal answers and his star-smile. Now, one last social function loomed ahead and he would survive this one with more star-smiles and non-committal answers.

What people took for the beautiful and mysterious ice prince was a carefully crafted façade. Never give the press what they’re lusting for. Information was power, and Viktor preferred to stay in control of what he wanted to reveal.

They’ve been talking about my retirement as if I’ve already announced it.

Suddenly, he was choking on the sadness that had been lurking at the edge of his mind during the competition. He had thought it was gone. Why was it back? After three days of competition, he had no energy left to deal with this. And all because some overzealous fan had interpreted his expression during his recent performances as a growing contempt for his craft. As if Viktor’s presentation stood in contrast to his season’s theme.

Just two more hours. I don’t need to stay until the end. There will be champagne and music, and small talk. It’s just a different kind of performance. I have scripts for that.

But he was deluding himself. Unlike a programme that relied on muscle memory and an intense, innate focus, social functions demanded constant attention. Just the thing to look forward to after competing had drained Viktor of the energy he had scraped together to get through the event in the first place. And the Russian Hero was expected to attend even more than any other skater, and Viktor hated to disappoint.

There was a knock on his door.

Taking a deep breath, Viktor composed himself. I kept myself together for a long weekend. I can manage another couple of hours.

He picked up his blazer from the comforter. “I’m coming!”

He opened the door and stared right into a red-cheeked face framed by short blonde curls.

“Chris!”

His friend grinned. “Curious. Your hair doesn’t look like that, dear.”

*end of excerpt*

Read Beneath the Shine of a Thousand Spotlights here.

Reblog appreciated 💙💜

#yuri on ice #viktor nikiforov #figure skating #yoi #yoi fanfiction #fanfiction #cat's YOI fanfiction #ADTLTBAverse

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blackvahana · 3 months ago

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Hey, love your blog! I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about the mindscape, headspace, etc. is it a place in the astral or somewhere in between, and does it count as astral work/travel to go there. Thankyou :))

Hi, thank you!

I'll answer a bit out of order for a reason... I wouldn't count it as astral work/etc, I personally classify is under "mindwalking".

It's rough, in my experience basically every plane including this one is on a spectrum between Material and Mental. Every one is... both, at least if you can traverse it, which makes things confusing. However, just because both the ocean and the rain are experiences of "being in water", that doesn't make differentiating them unimportant - likewise just because technically even the physical plane is partly mental, that doesn't mean differentiating astral and mental are no longer important.

I answer classifications first mostly because I think its important that astral projection/etc is "Astral" not "mindspace" projection, "astral" is a term used for specific types of spaces in the way "physical" is. If "astral" and "mental" work were to be classified as the same thing, genuinely we may as well class "physical" things as "mental" too. None of that is saying you're (insert some negative word here) for asking about them, specifically Im lingering on it because the classification in itself is the biggest source of definitive lines drawn between things.

I'll say it this way: I guess its like asking about... Is a mountain a part of a valley? No. There is definitely a part where they are indistinguishable - but mountain climbers climb mountains, rivers settle in valleys, so while you can walk the line between these two things if youre aiming for Astral work (say: mountain climbing) youre not doing the same thing as mindwalking (say: river settling in a valley).

All that out of the way, I absolutely can tell you about those things in my experience. Mindspaces/headspaces (the only distinction I draw between terms is headspace is, in my experienced, used for systems and... as much as I know plurality comes about through many means, I am actually very big on medical terms being left to those that have medical disorders. Is headspace as much a medical term as system is? no, but Id rather stay out of it and just leave that term alone personally) (thats to say theyre likely similar or the same, but I cant talk on what gets called a headspace).

Mindspaces are complicated. They're essentially heavily rooted in the mental, which is to say the elemental mental... highly influenced by thought, extensions of self, mental is hard to define. That said, as I said earlier, theres places where mental and Astral blur. I actually have a portal in my mindspace to a place in Astral Mongolia, but that... involves weaving reality in... well. ok. TLDR its currently not super connected because it involves stitching a hole from unreality (not. nothingness, not nonreality) into reality, which is loosely like birthing something from nothing - but possible given the ties between them

Mindwalking does involve quite a few sort of... similar skills to AP and Astral work though. Not just that, but it shares similarities on a surface level IE you can meet spirits there as well as people you know irl, and so on. It is.... highly programmable

I think - on that note - a quick detour is important. The mental can be programmed to be incredibly realistic or absolute nothingness. Reality Shifting in all my experience - including creating and going into an "alternate reality" out of my control with my husband - is a Mental function. Dreams (everything from nonsensical flashes of memories, to weird unlucid adventures, to nightmares, to lucid dreaming) are Mental functions, "alternate realities" shifted into with RS, mindspaces, as well as autonomous other people/servitors/i-cant-stand-the-word-tulpa-but-thats-what-it-is-colloquiallys, manifestations of memories, visions/autovisions, as well as what Ive had in two mindspaces now, portals to other things including the astral, are all mental things... And so with that complexity hopefully its more understood when i say that one can go to the mindspace like they can project

its a different process but can be done with the same process, if that makes sense. You can lie down and get into the void state or whatever and "project" into the mental. That makes it complicated and hard to differentiate - if youre treating them as the same. if youre not its much easier to navigate. So, TLDR: Mindspace is a function of the mental where one creates a mental space that is sustained outside their image conjuring (if you put a book down in the mindspace and forget, it should still be there. if you put a book down in imagination while youre imagining youre in a place, it shouldnt still be there when you get back - mindspace is a stable mental space, imagination is a simulation of a space. technically both are simulations but mindspace becomes passively simulated and imagination is actively simulated), and theres a difference between astral and mental work (mindwalking is a type of mental work), but they do get mixed up and arent quite fully separate in many ways

#Hopefully this makes sense. And uh. disclaimer of course that while i do have some amount of experience w this stuff...#i forget a lot that i know lmfao. this post will likely become outdated in my own work soon so... dont take it as anywhere #near definitive. i also havent really talked about mental-astral places like for instance Zeus' Lightning Field but....#if youre starting off its one of those like. you know how we teach kids theres two genders and those are sex based because they need #to know that before they can get into complex biology and sociology to actually understand -#''mental and astral are separate'' is key and absolutely an important Fact to learn starting off.... but also then theres spaces that #are both or. neither. lmfao and other things. but still that beginning fact remains true in its own way. because yeah no the astral #isnt mindspaces and stuff. anyway im just rambling bc i love this stuff lmfao #~abyssal murmurs #~mindwalking #~astral

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