#thank you for the ask zainab <3

[bisamwilson]

20 for those kiss prompts!

#20: ...on a scar

Bucky's arm hurts.

It always does on days like this, rainy and cold and gloomy. His shoulder starts to ache and the fingers he no longer has begin to itch. His prosthetic, light as it is compared to the old one, feels like it's weighing his entire body down.

He goes about his morning slowly, shuffling from the half full pot of coffee Sam made before his run over to the couch and burrowing himself under the blankets. He turns on a trashy reality show, something about a group of moms trying to date younger men from a pool of all their sons that Joaquín and Kate have been making jokes about for weeks.

It doesn't much keep his attention, as ridiculous as it is, and he spends the next half an hour or so barely watching and debating the merits of leaving his shoulder free of his prosthetic today.

He decides it's probably a good idea about a minute before Sam walks through the door, soaked through from his run but grinning a mile wide. "Mornin', baby. Jay and Kate got you watchin' that MILF show again?"

Bucky rubs at his shoulder but still smiles at Sam, hoping it doesn't look too much like a grimace. "I've never been more confused by the interests of the youth."

Sam carefully sets his water logged tennis shoes on the rubber mat by the door, and grabs the towel he'd left nearby to dry off just enough to not drip all over their floors. Bucky just stares as he dries off, always happy to indulge in his favorite form of birdwatching, and keeps a steady massaging pressure on his shoulder.

When Sam judges himself sufficiently dry, he immediately walks over to the couch rather than towards the hot shower he should be bolting for. He nods at Bucky's shoulder. "Need some help there?"

Bucky rolls it gently and shakes his head. "That can wait. You need to take a shower first, Sammy. Get warmed up. Can't have Cap in bed with pneumonia."

Sam jerks his head lightly in the direction of their bedroom. "Gotta wait for the water to heat up anyway. And a little bit of running in the rain isn't gonna give me pneumonia, baby," he says, pulling Bucky up from the couch and failing to hide his shiver. "You worry like a mother hen."

Bucky follows behind him to the bathroom mostly because he knows arguing will only keep Sam out from under the warm spray for even longer. He goes about turning on the water to Sam's preferred temperature as Sam strips off each article of wet clothing one by one, wincing a bit as the waterlogged fabric clings to his skin.

Bucky waits until he hears the loud, wet clop of each article hitting the floor before turning away from the shower and back towards Sam. He makes a show of looking him up and down and smiling as wolfishly as he can muster, but Sam just chuckles and rolls his eyes in response before walking up close to him.

He leans down and presses the lightest of kisses to the spot where Bucky's arm meets his shoulder, barely brushing his lips over the scarring, before pulling back. He waits.

"Help me take it off?" Bucky asks, the ache a little too strong to really ignore now, and Sam just nods, carefully going through the motions of releasing the arm and setting it aside gently, the way he's done countless times on countless days like this.

The mirror starts to fog up, and Bucky reaches his right arm into the shower to test the water, nodding when he finds it sufficiently warm. He shoves off the sweats and the briefs he's wearing and kicks them both to the side.

"Come on," he says, lightly grabbing Sam's wrist and tugging him towards their shower. "Gotta make sure you get warm, sweetheart."

He steps in first, and keeps a hold of Sam's wrist as he follows to guide him immediately under the warm spray. He doesn't reach out to grab any soaps or lathers just yet, just pulls Sam close and loosely wraps his arm around his waist, holding them both under the water at least until Sam's shivers stop.

It's easy enough to tell when Sam's sufficiently warm by the way he cuddles in closer to Bucky's embrace, no longer trying to hide his light trembling with distance. Bucky grabs Sam's soap and a soft washcloth from the caddy hanging behind him. Sam presses another light kiss to the scarring on his shoulder.

Bucky's arm hurts just a little less.

send me a ship and a number and i'll write a kiss!

[firstelevens]

8 9 and 17 for the fic rec meme?

8. 🥰 A fic that gives you warm fuzzy feelings

There's a fic called Like Waking Up that's about a newly-free Bucky experiencing the world and learning to make choices again, but it focuses on his experience of the world through fruit? And it's economical but devastatingly precise in its imagery; it absolutely evokes the feeling of coming alive to the beautiful things the world has to offer. It gets me every time.

9. 👌🏼 A fic someone else recommended to you

I really really love a good outsider POV fic, and a few years ago (incidentally, before I had ANY plans to write non-Spidey MCU fic), @sesamestreep recommended me Maisie Makes a Deal, which is a post-CA: TWS Steve/Bucky fic with a lot of the Cap Quartet, and it just does such a good job of making you care about the POV character and filtering the events of the story through the eyes of a school-aged kid. It's just so well written!

17. ✨ A fic you wish you could read again for the first time

I feel like I talk about this fic any time anybody asks me about fics that I love, but it absolutely HAS to be the Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic, Where Brooklyn At?!, which is an AU that reimagines the 99th precinct as a late night comedy show à la SNL and intersperses its prose scenes with media excerpts. It's such a richly developed AU, and it manages to preserve the character dynamics and the humor of the show's first season so well!

I read this fic the week that it came out and became so obsessed with the format that I proceeded to riff on it on and off for the next ten years, and now I feel like incorporating media has kind of become a calling card of mine, so I'd love to have that experience again.

[penny-hartzs]

Hi Christie! Hope you're doing well! (Also I hope you get to see Monkey Man soon because Dev looks SO GOOD)

Ask game :) List 5 things that make you happy and then ask this question to the last 10 people who liked and reblogged things from you

Zainab oh my god ❤️ this is so crazy because i was talking about you to my mom the other day, we were looking through old pictures and i found one of you holding a plate with some delicious delicacy you had baked for me 🥺 hope you're doing well and argh i want to watch that movie so badly!!!

Thank you for such a cute ask❤️ let's see, five things that make me happy:

1. Comfort sitcoms i never get tired of watching

2. Buying new clothes (dresses specifically)

3. Summer sunsets

4. Being obsessed with a good book

5. Cookies (hope i get to try yours one day)

[kartaylirsden]

🍎 For Ashana

She's Zainab, so she was born around their camp in the Grazelands in the late third era. She hasn't lived there for a very long time. By Skyrim era she was living in Solitude, and my current thought is that she eventually wound up in Blacklight after that, but I haven't gotten all the details parsed out that far.

Thank you so much for the ask! <3

[fasa-umich]

External Itinerary: 2024 Edition || Therese Cerdan, FASA's 2023-2024 Co-External Chair

Contact Information

Therese Cerdan: (000) 612-7692 Yes, I am writing this testimonial like an external trip itinerary. No, I am not putting my actual phone number. Before I get into my reflections on being external, I’d like to thank some very important people! (and because contact info comes first in our itineraries)

Sofia Gestiada: (000) 259-9023 Hi Sofia. I truly truly could not have asked for a better co. You’ve genuinely made this experience being on board a fun one, and having to do work never felt super serious or daunting because of you. Whenever I began to overthink or worry too much about FASA things, you were able to help me take a step back and come up with good solutions. I am going to rave about you more in a later section, so I will keep this short for now.

Alyssa and Bryson Madame and Mister President! This club could not run without you. I appreciate how you both were always there to give us advice, especially on how to interact with other orgs. Alyssa– I always tell you that you would be an amazing external. I love yapping with you about the other externals and MAFA in general. Bryson– You are such a reliable person. If I ever asked something from you, you always came through (benches 😭🙏).

Ashley and Mikey You guys are the blueprint. Sofia and I both came into this position having not interned, so we for real did not know what was going on at first. Thank you for showing us the ropes and for your advice throughout the year!

Board!!! Nicole, Andrew, Lizzy, Philip, Zainab, Eli, Mizzy, Gabe, Kendra, Ash, Taryn, Kayla, Sofia, Alyssa, Bryson (+ interns :P) – I’ve had an amazing time with y’all. Thank you for putting up with us adding random events to the calendar.

Sophie and Angeli To the gals who convinced me to do board….spare change 🪙?

Meg and Kyle Had to shout out the OGs. My first FASA friends. Here is the day we first met KGR lol. I am also writing this on Megan’s bday (3/15) so everyone say happy late bday Meg.

Freshmen us at Fall mass meeting ‘21

Housing Addresses

Cebu, Philippines. My connection to Filipino culture stems directly from my parents. Both of them grew up, met, and got married in Cebu City, Philippines. They moved over to Michigan with a group of other Filipinos in their engineering company, whose kids I grew up with. Because of this, I was fortunately able to grow up with a close-knit Filipino community and attend many family parties. I knew that in college I would absolutely want to find a similar kind of community, which is why there was no question that I would join FASA.

Dearborn, Michigan. This is the city I was born in and went to elementary and high school in. Although I grew up going to Filipino parties and the fact that Dearborn is already one of the most diverse cities in Michigan, I attended a predominantly white, Catholic school for almost my entire life (I did live in Shanghai for 3 years but I don’t feel like writing a section on it. Ask me about it if you want lol). I had very conflicting views of my identity as a result. I was microaggressed as the smart Asian my whole life, but I took this as a compliment and was simultaneously proud to be the different kind of Asian (aka not East Asian, like most of the stereotypes). Regardless of these external factors, I have always been proud to be Filipino.

Ann Arbor, Michigan. My sister Audrey was in Fil-Soc at Wayne State and I had various family friends in FASOU and SAFA, so it was a no-brainer that I join FASA at UMich. But my freshman year, I was a commuter student and ended up going to maybe 3 FASA events. Since I lived at home, I spent a lot more time going to FilViet volleyball up in Waterford/ Troy, which is where I met so many of my external friends. I guess everything happens for a reason, because if I wasn’t so inactive my freshman year, I wouldn’t have met the externals and eventually run for external chair of FASA as a result. 

Me and the fam swimming with whale-sharks (butanding) in Cebu 2013

Packing List

An amazing co The most important part of your trip as external is having an amazing co-chair. Sofia Beatrice del Rosario Gestiada has been one of the people I admire most in my life. Not only did she support me professionally, but she became someone I could depend on just in life in general. Your co is there to balance you out and provide support when the job gets tough. Sofia never failed to make me laugh when times got stressful, which was often because we were truly in the trenches together this whole year (we don’t talk about October).

Be okay with saying no With that being said, if you do not want to be planning external event after event during your tenure, be okay with saying no to some things! This is definitely something that Ashley and Mikey told us, but alas we did not listen. Oftentimes, FASA would be invited to join other internal events after we had finalized our calendar for the semester. Because we so loved our fellow A/PIA orgs, we wanted to join events when they invited us. Regardless, I have no regrets about any of the external events we planned and joined because they were genuinely all so fun and I loved working with the other externals/ outreach chairs.

A vision You have to want to build FASA’s connections with other orgs in order to perform this position correctly. There’s no question about that. Growing up, I had always known FASA as the “clique-y” Filipino org. During my whole term, I tried to help board and general members realize that external connections, both in and outside of the UM community, are important. You love the Filipino community found within FASA– why not expand it further within MAFA (Midwest Association of Filipino Americans)! Whether this worked or not, I am very proud of FASA stepping out of its comfort zone to interact with other orgs, especially the PSAs (Pilipino Student Associations). 

Connections! (not required) As I’ve been saying, my existing connections within the other PSA’s were the main reason I wanted to be an external chair. Not only was this helpful in shaping my vision, but it also helped make communication with them pretty efficient throughout the year. In fact, it happened quite serendipitously that both the Fil-Soc and Kapa external chairs this year were people I grew up with (s/o John Paul and Spencer), among other family friends on various PSA boards. But having prior connections are by no means requirements to do a good job as external! It’s all about how you build and maintain relationships, and wanting to build them in the first place. In my position, I’ve been able to meet and get to know so many of the amazing externals and outreach chairs of both internal and external orgs.

Baby me, Bea (Purdue PFA), JP (Fil-Soc), Spencer (Kapa), and Anton (SAFA) balling out

Itinerary

Now let’s get into some of the cool events that Sofia and I got to put on as externals!

Rice Bowl This was Sofia and I’s first event. Rice Bowl is an annual field day/ sports competition with MSU’s PASS in April/ May. It felt like we were thrown into it, having hosted it in AA for the first year since covid. This was a huge learning curve for me especially in figuring out how to work with non-FASA boardies, but luckily we had a lot of past documents to rely on (RIP FASA archives 💔). It’s amazing that we are able to maintain connections with another org through an annual event, so I’d love to see more FASA programs like this (hint hint @ next externals). Anyways, I believe that we will win Rice Bowl next year guys! Pls!!

Internal collabs During the FASA welcome week extravaganza of 2023, Sofia and I hosted our first internal collab! It was a cultural game night on the Diag with TASA. This semester, we also got to plan a huge tailgate with VSA, MSU PASS, and MSU VSA in East Lansing and it was just a swell, fun and safe time. We further bonded with the other UMich APIDA orgs during the Halloween LIVE collab, Celebrasia, ice skating night with CSA, and VSA’s annual Sweet Soiree. This semester, we were able to pull off probably one of the most rewarding events for me, which was Tsismis en el Barrio with La Casa. Being able to reflect on the shared culture and identity between the Filipino and Latinx peoples was an experience I will never forget. I hope this event returns sometime in the coming years.

Battle of the Bamboo 2024 This deserves its own category y’all. I am so beyond proud of our performance chairs and all the performers for all the work they put in to win us 3rd place! It makes the 3 hours a day working on spreadsheets for 2 weeks straight almost worth it! 😀Kidding. Not really. The trip to Chicago was the most demanding task of my time as external. But honestly, it was so worth it to hear how much of a fun time our general members had in Chicago. And it was really fun to make cars and houses and plan out what performers and non-performers should do with their time away from Ann Arbor. 

Music committee slay

Afterset Info 😛

Being on board felt like a never-ending party. I have never felt so encompassed by a community to the point where Filipinos and Filipino culture are found in all aspects of my life. Everywhere I go on campus now, I am able to see a familiar face, which makes this huge campus feel a lot smaller. Becoming an active member in FASA through being on board has been one of my favorite experiences in college. It’s opened so many doors for me not only socially and culturally, but professionally as well. It’s allowed me to make connections and learn about opportunities that will benefit me in my future career endeavors. Like many other boardies, I have wondered what comes next after FASA, but now I realize that FASA truly set me up for a great future. Being on a board like this teaches you so many soft skills like communication, problem-solving, and logistics planning. Most importantly, my time on board and in FASA has made me decide to pursue Philippine studies in my future anthropological research. 

To finish off this itinerary of my trip as co-external chair, I would like to wish the best of luck to our future boardies and next year’s external chairs. I know you will do great things <3

Inserting a pic of my Lakapati lin girlies bc I love them so

Ingat,

Therese Marie Enario Cerdan, FASA co-external chair ‘23-24

[zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas]

worst thing and best thing that has happened to you? (For the personal ask thingy)

sjsjsjjsjsjs ummmmmmmmmmm okay its very hard to definitely say but

worst thing- crushing on an asshole in 9th grade (im sure thats not the worst thing but i genuinely cant think of anything else)

best thing- theres so many buttttttt WINNING THE 1ST INTER SCHOOL DEBATE I EVER PARTICIPATED IN theres a lot of good things but i just tried to think of the most recent and the debate thing hit me lmao

[mediheal]

5 fave placements!

1. Gemini or Aquarius Mercury

2. Cancer Rising

3. Sagittarius Moon

4. Leo Venus

5. Libra or Sagittarius sun

[study-van]

Galaxy and melody for pretty asks <3

galaxy; what fascinates you?

I’m really fascinated by evolutionary medicine and how it can help us solve our current health problems (I’m not talking about eugenics that one is disgusting)

melody; favorite artists?

I’ve so many!! Some are BTS, Pomme, Enha, Beyza Doğuç, Hozier

some pretty asks

[adelinestudiess]

Hi can you name your 10 fav blogs?

Yes definitely! A more positive ask than the previous one :D

I may have shown some preference based on my interactions with people behind the blog but in no particular order

1. @coralstudiies (she's no longer active but she's super nice)

2. @septemberstudies (zee's very nice too and she has amazing handwriting and artistic skills!)

3. @learnelle (gabrielle has the most aesthetic pictures taken!)

4. @maeve-studies (maeve has a pretty nice desk setup!)

5. @gloomstudy (hello katrina! I feel like we have been mutuals since forever, thanks for being my long time mutual)

6. @study-van (yasemin has super aesthetic desk set up pictures as well and good study related tips on her instagram!)

7. @mid-afternoon-studies (mid, I'm in love with your posts!)

8. @museeofmoon (zainab has the prettiest cursive handwriting I have ever seen!)

9. @a-students-lifebuoy (a really amazing human being as well!)

10. @myhoneststudyblr (sophie, I love your lettering! And the study related tips!)

11. @wecandoit (sorry I missed dilli out, I had to add, she has amazing annotations in her picture!)

[philtstone]

Sam & Bucky, “grabbing onto their arm”

soooo ... i watched "why didnt they ask evans?" remembered that i loved agatha christie novels and immediately landed here. obviously wave the historical accuracy away bc i did just enough research for Flavour but not much for anything else. premise: everything remains the same as canon except bucky didnt fall off the train & a whole lot of characters were born much earlier in the 1900s. this isn't technically finished yet but it's enough to justify answering the prompt; i want to try to get the latter half of this "part" done & perhaps if the fates align even write a part 2 to actually complete the story but for now have this!! if you'd like to see more pls let me know <3 thanks for the prompt zainab love u

Sam figures this is just typical. So he’d decided to go to New York – get that loan. Hell, they need that loan. Boy, don’t do it, Sarah had said, but Sam figured it was his right just as anyone else’s, and Stark talked all that talk about his new GI grant. They won’t have you, Sarah said, and like an idiot Sam went anyway. He went, and he sat himself down in that nice fancy apartment building lobby across the room from the saddest lookin’ white fella he’d seen in a while, which was saying a hell of a lot. He got up, walked over, he spoke to the nice receptionist, he wrote his name down.

Of course, he was right – they would’ve taken him. Had the paperwork done up and everything. Stark may have been a bit crazy, hell if Sam knew, but he had money to throw at things. 

Only then, the very next day, Howard Stark died. 

HEADLINE EXCLUSIVE: HOWARD STARK FOUND DEAD IN ALLEY BEHIND MANHATTAN APARTMENT

The New York Times, Monday, October 12th, 1947

Nation mourns death of eccentric millionaire inventor and war hero Howard Stark, found dead of a gunshot wound this morning in the alleyway behind his Manhattan home. With him, also dead, was socialite fiance Maria Caruso. Police have yet to identify the nature of the death but have not ruled out suicide. However, sources confirm that the firearm found at the scene was not Stark’s, but rather belonged to Stark’s comrade and fellow veteran Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes.  

The thing about Peggy is that she understands him, which is just a bitch and a half sometimes.

“You threw the weapon out.”

She’s repeating this, flatly, but with enough inflection that Bucky comprehends the are you perhaps a massive idiot implied therein. Peg would say it like that too — use perhaps and massive and arch her eyebrows.

Bucky presses his hands harder where they’re clutched at his temples and grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t thinking clearly, alright?”

“James.”

James, full name, not Jim like when she’s being chummy and of course Agent Margaret Carter of His Majesty’s Royal Service never quite got around to following Steve’s lead on the Bucky front. Bucky grimaces harder. Peggy will stare and be sardonic and, God help him suspicious until he explains.

“I dunno what you want me to say, Peg – it was there in the drawer and I couldn’t bear lookin’ at it anymore.” 

Her resultant expression is just a touch too understanding for his taste. 

“How the hell would I know that tossing a Colt into the Hudson in the middle of the night would get Howard killed?” Bucky adds, to move past it.

Minutely as possible Peggy flinches. Balls of steel, he’s always said. The other guys thought the same, but none of them had the guts to say it aloud. Speaking of other guys –

“Dugan’s coming over.”

“Like hell he is,” Bucky says.

Peggy takes an elegant drag of her cigarette. She’s sitting at the dull brown edge of his made-up bed and being careful enough that the ashes don’t spill. What difference that’ll make Bucky’s not sure. His apartment’s the definition of sad. Becca nearly cried last week when she visited, but then instead of crying yelled at him ‘til he relented and got a pillow. 

“Evidently,” says Peggy, still on the topic of Dum-Dum, “he has not considered the double agent angle. His wife made you casserole.”

“Mm,” says Bucky, grim. He walks over to his meager kitchen, pulls a dusty bottle out from the cabinet and unscrews it. “Gonna get him killed one of these days.”

“Given my ongoing conviction that you are not in fact a spy –”

“Jury’s out on you though,” Bucky says, raising the bottle at her.

“-- you do realize that you are a prime suspect in the murder of our close personal friend.” She blows out. “If we can’t rely on our comrades, we’re rather fucked.”

“I am, you mean.”

Her mouth turns mulish and she looks away to the window then back. Maybe she did mean we, lumping the two of them under the tarp of some morbid umbrella. Steve’s dead and gone and sacrificed nobly, isn’t he.

“You didn’t kill Howard and he didn’t damn well kill himself,” says Peggy, steely. “I’d like to know which bastard did.”

Bucky puts his drink down. Sighs. Crosses his arms.

“So?”

“I’ll poke around at SSR –”

“You really do think it’s a spy –”

“Stay here. Word is they don’t want this in the press just yet, which, well. Neither of us were born yesterday.” 

“You callin’ me old, Agent Carter?” he asks, just on the right edge of bratty.

Peggy steamrolls forward, “Don’t do anything untoward, please.”

“You’re the one sitting on the bed of an unmarried man,” Bucky says. He walks over to the window and tugs it open, letting cigarette smoke out and giving him an eye to the dank alley below. It’s spring and the sunlight’s pale and his room’s not too high up; were anyone to jump, they’d barely sprain an ankle. And Howard’s fucking dead. Bucky turns back and flicks a thumb under his chin. “C’mon,” he says, “gimme the rest of your cigarette. I’m the one wanted for murder.”

“Christ,” Peggy mutters, getting to her feet. 

She hands the cigarette over anyway, and Bucky spends the minute it takes her to leave wiping off the lipstick stains. It’s a lost cause, more or less. 

He has to put it out, against the peeling windowsill. 

Sam’s rung the service bell a third time when the receptionist finally appears. 

“Concierge’s assistant,” she corrects in a trill voice. Her curls are pinned tightly and her skirt waist more so. The red of her lipstick clashes garishly with her hair. Her nametag reads Dolores. “Can I help you?”

“Um, yeah,” says Sam, “Ma’am.” He grips his bag. “I'm here to inquire about my loan.”

The lobby he’s in is just as fancy as it was the first time around, with tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers and fine imported rugs on the floors. It was pretty empty last time too, quiet and genteel the way rich white people pretend to be. Only last time Sam was kept company not just by Miss Dollie’s red lipstick but the scowling, oblivious man she kept batting her lashes at; this time the place is empty. Police have roped off the elevator and even the white folks’ plush seating area is out of bounds. Dollie looks pastier than usual.

“Oh,” says Dolores, “oh. From –”

“Yesterday,” Sam says, slow and expectant.

“You’d better go home,” says Dolores.

“They took my name down,” says Sam, a second time. “I wrote it on paper and everything.”

Dolores has busied herself with some stationary thing under the desk and distractedly says, “I just don’t think dead people can give loans. It’s a shame, don’t you think? He was a real dreamboat.”

“Ma’am – Ms. Dolores –” She stops looking wistful about Stark’s erstwhile good looks and refocuses, “Now c’mon. I paid train money for this. My sister’s got two kids – our family’s business is on the line. I’d like to talk to someone.”

“I’d guess you oughta get a lawyer,” Dolores says mournfully. 

“Dollie,” Sam starts, “can I call you Dollie?” She perks up, which is inconvenient, as Sam remembers that he knows better than to flirt with a white woman. “Don’t they have some kind of insurance in place?” he asks. “His family – estate, somethin’? I mean, Howard Stark, a guy like that wouldn’t leave millions lyin’ around.”

Not that Sam knows much about men like Howard Stark. But if the police won’t bother listening to him, he’s just gotta run with his own theories.

“Jeez,” says Dollie, sniffing. “I couldn’t tell you. The whole back door’s swarming with cops. No one’s even gone through the rooms yet.” And then she says, “Oh – oh!” And bursts into tears.

Sam hovers awkwardly on the other side of the reception desk and offers her his ratty handkerchief until she has collected herself enough to wave him off with one hand and stumble away to the bathroom. Her low heels thump unevenly on the carpeted floor as she goes. He straightens the tie of his dress uniform and looks around again. He can hear voices, but far past the desk, closer to the alley door and the mail room. Hell, he’d bet even the cleaning staff have been either sent home or brought in for questioning. 

“Ain’t this just our luck,” Sam mutters. 

There’s no one around. The elevator is right there. Sam takes a deep breath and heads upstairs.

Upstairs is fancier than downstairs in the sense that Sam’s been in lobbies before but has never been in the type of suite that takes up a whole floor. The tall gilded windows look out on nearly all of Manhattan. Someone – he guesses the same police who told him to stop wasting their time, they had better things to be dealing with – has taped off the entrance to each room, but other than that, Dollie was right: it’s more or less untouched. 

Which makes sense, ‘cause there’s a whole lot to touch. Sam can barely see the bedroom (with its big four-poster bed) or the bathroom (with its marble counter) because there is stuff everywhere. There’s a painter’s easel with a feminine aura to it in the corner and paints laid out, slowly drying, and yesterday morning’s newspaper. A large cylindrical contraption moves back and forth beside the desk, over the carpet in one corner, like someone forgot it there; it emits a loud suctioning noise (Sam can see the carpet hole forming) while steaming a smoking jacket to misshapenness at the same time. The coffee machine has three levels, one each for cream, milk, and sugar; the coffee smells burned. These are not the weird things. The weird things are the three stacks of metal drawers emitting a strange humming noise, and the industrial sized ice box, and the half-deconstructed bicycle sitting on top of the desk with what looks like a freakier version of a machine gun strapped to the handlebars. It has wires and hydraulics and everything comin’ out of its ends.

“Just check the desk and leave, Sam,” Sam mutters to himself, pushing down his nerves. You’re the fool who got yourself into this, says Sarah’s voice in his head.

She ain’t wrong. 

The glossy desk is smaller than Sam expected. He checks it; two drawers with locks on them, and the third opens to a couple loose lead pencils rolling around. He supposes an important man like Howard Stark wouldn’t keep his papers sitting just anywhere. Under the desk, maybe?

Nothing. Not even a damn cardboard box. 

He straightens, hums at the locked doors. In front of him a lopsided chalkboard reads CADILLAC IN OUTER SPACE???? ASK JARVIS in giant block letters. 

“Going around wastin’ my time …” Sam mutters, picking his bag up and rubbing behind his neck. “Maybe we do need a lawyer.” 

Then he narrows his eyes. 

There.

Right there.

Someone has picked the lock. 

The first drawer sits just off its latch and the second has scuff marks under where the key goes in. “Well, shit,” he mutters. He gets back down on his knees. There is definitely a splinter, right down the middle of the second lock, like someone wrenched at it when a gentle picking didn’t do the job. “Now why the hell would he have to do that if he’s got a key?”

Sam’s habit of asking himself rhetorical questions is very suddenly put on the spot when, instead of the silence he usually anticipates, he is answered by a faint creak from the foyer beyond the study door. Sam freezes. He doesn’t think his dress uniform is enough to stop him getting arrested if anyone were to find him here now. Then again, with these locks and the general strangeness of the situation, arrest could be the safer option. Scooping up his bag, Sam slowly rises to his feet and pads softly around the desk, just barely missing the steam-cylinder and its jacket (it lets out a sad whistle), and slips a small pocket knife out from the inside of his left sock. He stalls at the doorframe, trying to breathe as quietly as he can. There’s definitely someone on the other side.

Inhaling sharply, he pounces.

“Oomph!”

“Shit!”

On instinct Sam grabs the arm that swings at him. He brings his knee up and his elbow down and there is a moment where they grapple, with strong emphasis on the moment part – very suddenly Sam finds his arm knocked out of the way and himself grabbed by beneath his chin, and slammed into the foyer wall like his cousin Deedee’s flour sack doll, so hard that all the breathe leaves his lungs in one fell swoop. His hat gets knocked off of his head with the force of it and falls to the floor.

Sam blinks. There is a scruffy, pale face in front of him, which features two big blue eyes that are blinking right back, looking equally startled.

They stay frozen like that for the space of two heartbeats. Sam’s fingers tighten where they’re fisted at the guy’s collar, refusing to yield. He’s pretty sure his knife has skidded under the shoe rack. 

He really liked that knife, dammit.

“Who the hell are you?” asks the man suddenly, both loud and Brooklyn about it.

“Funny,” wheezes Sam, “I could ask you the same thing.”

He releases Sam, which is nice of him. Stumbling, he moves a few steps back, and looks quite suddenly more bewildered than before. He’s not much taller than Sam is, with dark floppy hair that hangs over one eyebrow and a frame like a heavyweight boxer. Despite his startling strength – Sam aint exactly the smallest of men – there’s an exhaustion that sits fragile under his eyes and a tense, well-concealed tremble in one arm. There’s something very familiar about his face. His slacks have scuffs at the knees and he’s wearing a lumpy-looking knit sweater that does little to mask what Sam’s dress greens are plainly revealing to him – that whoever he’s just run headlong into, trespassing in a dead guy’s bedroom, is a fellow soldier.

Or was, anyway. No more war to fight and die in. Sam tugs at the hem of his jacket. It’ll be a pain in the ass to steam again, and Sarah will raise hell about it ‘cause he’ll beg to borrow her steamer. They don’t get all that nice starching stuff at the dive motels Sam can afford. 

“No one’s supposed to be up here,” insists the man, still looking baffled. 

Sam straightens and rubs at his jaw, which feels like it just got caught in an industrial press.

“Sorry to disappoint,” says Sam, “but I am. Why are you here?”

“I asked first,” says the man, so unselfconsciously mulish that Sam can only stare.

“I didn’t just slam me into a wall.”

“You came at me with a knife!” protests the guy, which Sam thinks is a little unfair; that knife was kind of useless. He narrows his eyes. He oughta pick his hat up from the floor, but he figures it’d be kind of stupid to let his guard down. They stand there, eye to eye, at impasse. After the weird-looking carpet cleaner has whistled three times the man says,

“You don’t look like a German spy,” muttered, like he’s really thinkin’ about it.

“Seriously?” splutters Sam. He says this so forcefully that the other guy has the nerve to look a little offended. But now, come on – come on, Sam thinks. It’s a fair question. Only Sam’s been having a really difficult forty-eight hours, so he doesn’t appreciate it.

He decides to consider the situation a bit more fairly; how does he know this crumb hasn’t been having a tough time, too? 

It’s here that something big and important feeling clicks in Sam’s head. He’s seen that scowl before – just yesterday, ignoring poor Miss Dollie.

And just this morning, in the papers plastered all over his motel lobby.

“Oh,” says Sam, “you gotta be kidding me.” 

But alas, there’s no kidding to be had. 

“From the paper – they think you killed him, man!”

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes pales three shades under what little tan he has, but otherwise doesn’t react. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says instead, a divot deepening between his thick eyebrows. “It isn’t safe.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” says Sam. “Some guy just grabbed me by the throat.”

Barnes does not seem to find this amusing. Instead, he looks a funny cross between ornery and miserable, and sets his jaw to considerable mulish effect. Sam hums to himself. Fact of the matter is, Barnes has had plenty of opportunity to kill Sam so far and hasn’t taken advantage of it. If he really was guilty – Sam thinks, briefly considering the warped mind of a cold-blooded killer, a few inches removed from the necessities of soldierhood – wouldn’t he want to get rid of any witnesses or evidence? 

And yet here Sam is, very much not dead.

“Well … you don’t look like a murderer,” he says aloud, slowly, but keeps his arms crossed. Somehow despite his sardonic tone and clear mockery (at least, that’s what Sam hopes is coming across), there is something profoundly relieved about the expression that flickers across Barnes’s face.

Then it is back to its customary scowl.

“You gotta leave,” he repeats firmly, pacing once, back and then forth. Sam watches him carefully; there’s that tremble again, along with a steady, even tone and deliberate eye to the skyline behind them. More than just Barnes’s face is familiar. 

But Sam is still annoyed.

“Through the window?”

“There’s – a stairwell.”

“Through the stairwell definitely crawling with cops?”

“For the love of God –”

“I am just listing my options, here.”

“Just leave, go away, pretend you never saw me,” Barnes says, waving two hands in front of Sam’s face like he’s batting the whole morning away, and looking harassed. “Okay? Jesus, it ain’t that hard.”

“Pretend I never saw you, creepin’ around the apartment of the fella you’re supposed to have killed,” Sam says. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna tell somebody.”

“Seriously?!” It’s Barnes’s turn to sound offensively incredulous.

“Or,” Sam says, “you could tell me what’s goin’ on.”

There’s a long pause. Sam hardly thinks his voice is friendly – if anything, he’s annoyed as hell – but Barnes opens his mouth, two beats, a sudden vulnerability stuck to his chin. Too vulnerable for whatever Sam’s asking. In that split second it sucks the breath outta the room.

Sam doesn’t have any idea what it is that’s just made Barnes’s head whip around until a bullet explodes into the lobby mirror above their heads.

“Fuck!”

Two rough hands shove him back into the study and Sam nearly knocks over the artillery bicycle; he looks up in time to see Barnes throwing his lanky frame against the opposing wall and holding his arms up over his head, yelling loudly in annoyance when another three bullets spray into the beautiful engraved wood above their heads and nearly bring down the chandelier. The coffee maker starts whistling out of control. Sam groans. 

“Gimme your gun!” demands Barnes, which is beyond unhelpful.

“I don’t have a gun,” says Sam, waving one hand in the air to demonstrate this. “Where’s your gun?”

“I threw it in the fucking Hudson!” says Barnes. He looks like a guy who’s had a very long forty-eight hours; Sam can relate. “I’ve been framed for murder, remember?”

“We actually never established that that’s the truth,” Sam feels the need to point out, a second before another bullet tears through the poor over-steamed suit jacket.

Bang.

“Common sense!” exclaims Barnes.

Bang.

“Somethin’ you don’t seem to have much of!” yells Sam.

Bang.

“THERE IS A MAN SHOOTING AT US.”

Bang.

“HOW IS THAT MY FAULT?!” 

Jiminy Christmas, says Sarah’s voice in Sam’s head. His sister is not gonna be happy about this.

They scramble for the front door as another two bullets sound off. Sam just barely has the time to reach down and grab his hat, and can just make out a slight, shadowed figure ducking back behind the wardrobe in the bedroom before they burst into the elevator lobby – right in time for the elevator door to ding open, and the tomato-red of the huffing police commissioner’s face to peek through.

Barnes has grabbed him by the arm again and pushed him into the stairwell going back downstairs before Sam has any time to react. 

And, maybe importantly, before any of the many police officers squeezing themselves out into the hallway can see him.

Huh, he thinks, a second before the other man’s bulky shoulders burst through the door in turn, knock haphazardly into Sam, and half tumble them down the staircase with a garbled, “Come on, move!” tacked right onto the end.

“Can’t run anywhere with you fallin’ on top of me!” Sam says.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”

And for all that Sam was raised Southern Baptist, he has to agree.

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap : Chapter 10

Cold Snap : Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |  Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

***

Lucy stood outside the window, palms resting on the small cill, watching the team work. Her shoulders were sagging. In so many ways she was stunned by the sheer brutality of the efforts to keep Shona alive. Tubes everywhere, thankfully the places where they pierced her skin were hidden by the strange cooling blanket. The LUCAS beating on her chest. Lucy took a certain amount of pride in how well she could do chest compressions, but she couldn't deny the machine was so much more consistent, and unlike her or any of the nurses inside the trauma room, it wouldn't get tired.

She glanced up as she saw Dave walking out the trauma room. He stepped up next to her, back to the wall, sighing. "You did good Luce."

She nodded her head, still gazing through the window, struggling to even move. Dave reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder, breaking her vigil. Dave looked down at her, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

"Yeah...Yeah..." she sighed and turned away from the window. "How was it looking in there?"

Dave shrugged. "Still getting nothing, but it's not hopeless. They're the best, they won't give up on her easily." Lucy nodded again, she knew he was right, but she still felt helpless. "How about the hero, how's he doing?"

It took Lucy a couple of seconds to realise he was talking about Officer Jones. "He's with Zainab. I don't think he's in any danger. I was meant to be getting him a coffee...." She trailed off.

Dave forced himself not to sigh. He could tell this one had taken a toll on his partner. "How about you go and get that coffee. The station already radioed, we've got the rest of the shift signed off, so go and take that coffee to Jones. I'll come and find you when there’s any news." Lucy lingered for a few seconds. "Go on." Dave pressed, relieved when she pushed herself from the wall and started to head towards the central station of the ER. He grabbed his radio once she was out of earshot. "3008 to control, we're standing down."

***

The smell of the coffee immediately made Lucy feel better. She hadn't realised how drained she had been after the mad scramble to escape the boat, and the whole journey to the hospital. Even the hour old sludge from the nurse’s station had a revitalising effect. She felt a weight lifting as she walked through towards the cubicles. She peered around the curtain, seeing a welcome sight.

Jones was reclined in the bed, a heap of thick blankets covering him up to his neck. His eyes were closed, but he had a healthy amount of colour to his face, a marked contrast to the icy paleness that had still been there when she left. She stepped into the cubicle, reaching out to place the coffee on the counter beside the bed, trying to be quiet in case he was asleep. She was slightly surprised by the flutter in her chest when one his eyes cracked open to look at her, even more so when her face broke into an automatic smile.

"Hey." He said, returning the smile, before moving to pull himself up.

"Hey." She held up a placating hand. "Easy there." She told him, stepping behind the bed and lifting the head a couple of notches. She grabbed the coffee as she stepped around to the stool, handing it over as she perched.

Jones sniffed it appreciatively, taking a sip then letting out a long satisfied sigh. "Just like at the station."

"You'd think, giving how many lives we save, they could give emergency services some better coffee." Lucy replied. Jones shrugged a little ineffectively thanks to the blankets.

"I don't actually mind it." He said, pausing for a moment. "I mean, it's bad, but if it was good, none of us would get any work done." He laughed, joined by Lucy.

They both looked up as the curtain swished aside, Zainab walking in, looking at the chart in her hands. "Everything is looking good Mr. Jones, I'd prefer to keep you in just a little..oh." She'd finally looked up and noticed Lucy was there. She glanced between them.

"It's ok, she can stay." Jones said, having a passing familiarity with privacy regulations.

"Right. Um, where was I... Ah, yes, I'd like to keep you here for a few hours more, just to be on the safe side. Make sure you didn't catch anything from the river water. Trust me, it's nasty." She waited until Jones nodded. "Ok, I'll check in every so often but, well, it's pretty busy." She said with a smile before she left, closing the curtain again.

Lucy and Jones sat in silence for a moment, though it was a comfortable silence. Jones was the one who broke it. "So... How is she doing?"

Lucy had been dreading this part. "They're still working on her."

"That's...That's not good is it?" Jones frowned.

"It could be better, but the hypothermia also protects her brain." Lucy, reached out, lightly touching his arm. "She still has time."

 * * *

 The trauma room had settled into that state of strange quiet. There was plenty of noise. The hissing, scraping and clicking of the LUCAS machine pounding down on Shona's sternum. The occasional whoosh of the ventilator  as warm oxygen was forced through the endotracheal tube and down into her lungs. The whirs, hums and gurgles as warm saline was pumped through chest tubes, flowing around her chest cavity to warm her core. Similar sounds came from the dialysis machine and the warming blanket. And yet, all those sounds had been filling the room for so long, over half an hour now, that they had effectively faded into the background.

Carl glanced towards the muted monitors, seeing the barely moving lines of asystole indicating the Shona's heart was still devoid of electrical activity. It took concentrated effort for him not to let out a sigh. He couldn't afford to dampen the mood of the team. Even though he knew logically that they still had time, Shona's hypothermic state helping in that respect, the fact that she had been in cardiac arrest for over 80 minutes now was more than enough to cause anyone to begin losing hope. The whole team would be feeling it now, so he had to maintain a confident front, keep them engaged. Keep them willing to fight for the girl on the table.

Carl glanced at the monitor again, this time ignoring the lines showing Shona's non existent heart rhythm, focusing instead on the numbers on the right hand side. Ironically the smallest of these numbers was the most important. Shona's temperature had been creeping upwards steadily thanks to all of their efforts, reaching 30.4 degrees Celsius. Initially Carl had planned to ramp up their efforts once she reached 32, but a quick look around the room changed his mind. Shoulder were slumping, eyes were downcast. The team needed something to get them back in the fight.

"Ok." Carl announced, gathering the attention of the team, "Let's get her started on ACLS drugs. We'll go with a round of epi and atropine, and follow that up with dopamine." He made solid eye contact with each of them, hoping he was exuding the confidence they needed. It seemed to work. The team started to move, heads held a little higher. Kirstie grabbed the drug boxes, pulling out the vials and handing them off to Roger, who drew out the necessary dose in a syringe, before carefully placing them on a tray, needle point down. Anna picked up each in turn, feeding the drugs into the IV line to enter Shona's body.

It was a flurry of activity, and once done, the stillness descended once more, but at least heads were raised to look at the monitors. "Let's give it a minute to circulate." Carl said, stating the patently obvious, but also breaking the monotony of the noises in the trauma room. He just hoped the drugs would have an effect.

 * * *

 Anna stood by the table. Like the others, she watched the monitor, hoping to see something break through that agonisingly straight line. She suspected though, that she was the only one forcing herself to watch it. Forcing herself not to watch the young woman in front of her undergoing almost fully automated resuscitation. Forcing herself not to imagine being the one on the table.

It was hard though and her mind kept drifting. She glanced down at Shona's pale form, taking a beating from the LUCAS, and for a single timeless moment she was the one in that position. She could almost feel it, the Lucas pressing down her sternum, the connections between the bones pulling her shoulders inwards slightly and rocking her head. The motion transferring through her arms, fingernails scrapping gently against the hard body of the device above her. Each artificial compression forcing her organs to shift so much that her abdomen distended. The rhythmic bulging of her belly making her legs sway and her feet bop. A pulse of pleasure rushed through her, her back straightening involuntarily at the sudden rush.

It was that definitive sign that forced her to shake off the reverie. Almost by instinct she began to feel shame, then she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. She looked over, meeting Carl's gaze. His eyebrow raised just slightly. Anna took a slow, steady breath, matching the whoosh of the ventilator as it forced much needed oxygen into Shona's lungs. The respirator let out a hiss as it released the pressure, and Anna let out her breath, reasserting control. She pushed away the shame, replacing it with acceptance, just like Carl advised. Then she took the day dream and filed it away, for future reference, She gave Carl a near imperceptible nod, which he returned, then she turned her attention back to the job at hand.

Carl covered the rather obvious throat clearing by launching into fresh orders. "Ok, that's two minutes, lets go with another round of epi and of atropine." Anna noticed he glossed over the part where Shona hadn't responded. The monitor continued to show a complete lack of cardiac activity. In fact, the only thing that had changed was the temperature. It had risen, ever so slightly, to 30.7, in the last 2 minutes. In a way, Anna was glad it wasn't rising faster. They'd reached the point at which Shona's heart should be able to respond, even just to show them a little something. Once she hit 32, they'd be back on the standard time limit, so a few extra minutes could only help.

They proceeded through the same system, one nurse drawing the drugs then handing them to Anna to inject them into the IV line. Once again they finished quickly and settled back in to watch the monitors, the squeaking and clicking and humming and whooshing of the machines turning into an ignored background soundscape. It faded away so far that almost the entire team was startled when the speaker on the monitor suddenly burst out with an alarm.

[bisamwilson]

Very Normal Fic Asks: 2, 7, 19, 25

hi zainab!!! thanks for the ask <3 (from this list)

it gets a little nsfw under the cut btw

2. if you put all your fics into a crockpot, what would be the resulting soup?

okay to start i'd like to note that this is the most makcore fic question of all time. if my apartment was on fire i would grab my dog, my phone/laptop, and then my crockpot in that order.

but to answer the question itself, i think it would end up being homemade chicken noodle soup. a lot of my fics are more character focused than plot focused necessarily, and, perhaps the star wars au aside, even my sadder fics have their fluffiness to them, which makes the hearty, classic, comforting nature of chicken noodle soup work here. also it's a favorite of mine bc i'm boring and also a mom friend that way

7. Which fic would you be too afraid to orphan, lest it enact revenge?

i feel like it's either renaissance man or save a horse (ride a cowboy) because those are the two smut fics i've written with the most ridiculous premise and both of them have to make sure that i spend the rest of my life knowing that i've written and published a fic where bucky ends up fisting sam bc he sent him a photo of the statue of david's ass and another fic where they have sex on a mechanical bull. these will continue to haunt me.

19. You've been arrested for [insert crime], which fic is the prosecutor submitting as evidence?

zainab messaged me after to say that the crime should be treason, so obviously the answer is either hey princess or i slithered here from eden because bucky might as well commit treason in the first one and sam definitely commits treason against god in the second (note: sam is valid here! bucky was not, even if his motives were understandable)

25. All of your fics are featured in a nature documentary, which one goes viral for its absurd behaviour?

because i already used save a horse and renaissance man, i gotta go with stuck a feather in his hat because the premise of this fic is bucky burns mac and cheese so often he ends up seducing sam with how bad of a neighbor and a mess he is, and it's named for yankee doodle. i had so much fucking fun with that one

[firstelevens]

hi zainab!!!! 2, 3, 6, and 29 for the fic writer ask???

Hi Mak! Thank you for sending these in!

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

Yes, because I am absolutely my own biggest fan!

On a much more practical note, sometimes I reread because it's part of a series and I'm checking a canonical detail (although if it's in the Bake Off AU I'm better off just asking @sesamestreep, who is the official lorekeeper and knows that universe's canon better than I do.) Other times, there's a fic where I just really like what I did with a character's voice or the general tone of a scene and I'll go back just to get a feel for what I did the last time.

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

I mean, the Bake Off AU has my whole heart and there's so much of me in it that it will always be special to me BUT!!! I really love the Thunderbolts-era epistolary fic counted days, counted miles because I think it's an exercise in me managing to show writerly restraint, which is a skill I'm still working on. (And also I got to come up with so many fun spy tricks for hiding letters; it was great.)

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

How fortuitous that you picked this question when I have reread wish that i could wind (like a spiral stair through time) FIVE TIMES in the past month. That fic is a work of art. I am also never far from rereading and never ever watch the ten o'clock news, which is Emma's phenomenal Psych AU of Rogue One which is just so wonderful and funny and it continues to hold up. Oh also! There's don't read the last page, which is a Brooklyn Nine-Nine fic that is short and sweet and just so warm and cozy and I go back to that one a lot just for the mood of it.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic.

Okay so this question reminded me that there's a 1200 word scene from the Formula 1 AU that was originally going to be the epilogue but got canned which SUBSEQUENTLY reminded me that there's a whole scene that I wrote for the Bake Off AU that got cut from Chapter 6 because things ended up going another way!

The beginning will looks familiar if you remember anything from that chapter, but then there's a sharp left turn that involves the lost plot point of Becca Barnes creeping on Joaquín's thirst trap and restaurant review filled Instagram in order to figure out where Bucky could go for dinner. I was sad to lose it tbh but the restaurant still made it into the fic as the place where Sam and Bucky go out on their definitely-not-a-date in Chapter 10.

A peek at the alternate timeline under the cut!

Bucky is starfished on his bed, trying to muster the energy to get up when his phone rings. His eyes are squeezed shut, but he opens one to peer at the screen. He only answers because it’s Becca, but he’s too tired to do more than grunt into the phone when he picks up.

“Good day, huh?” she asks, laughing when he just groans in response.

“Hope yours was better than mine,” Bucky says, when he finally manages to talk. “How’s day shift treating you?”

“I’m discovering that there’s this thing in the sky called the sun, and it provides light? And makes people happy? Do you think other people know about it? Should I be telling them?”

He laughs tiredly. “You can use all this newfound energy to make a TikTok about it.”

“I’ll get on that,” Becca says. “What about you? You okay?”

“Yeah,” says Bucky, bringing his hand up to his face. “I just need to lie down for a while.”

Not that lying down for the past half hour has helped, but he’s got high hopes for that sixty minute mark.

“No, what you need to do is eat something,” Becca says, sounding remarkably like their mother. “Tell me your head isn’t hurting right now.”

Bucky freezes, his fingers still pressed into his temples. “It’s creepy when you do that, you know.”

She laughs. “I know. Hey, why don’t you go to that place that you and Steve went to all the time, the one with the waffles?”

The last time Bucky had been there, four years ago, he’d spent the entire evening bickering companionably with Sam while Steve dealt with a work emergency. It had felt remarkably like flirting, and he’d even thought about asking Sam to get a drink sometime—and then Bucky had been eliminated after the next day’s Showstopper, and that put an end to that.

He shakes his head to clear it. “I’m tired, Bec, and they pick us up at like, six AM. I think I might just grab something from the convenience store.”

“Buck, I spend half my time listening to newborn babies cry and that is still the most pitiful thing I’ve heard this week. You are not eating yogurt for dinner alone in your hotel room.”

Bucky huffs. “Well, I’d grab a random stranger off the street to join me, but I’m not looking to get murdered today, Rebecca.”

He can hear the sound of Becca typing, doing the thing where she studiously ignores his asshole behavior until he comes around and starts acting a more like a person. It’s annoying how well it works. 

After a minute or two of typing and what he assumes is scrolling, she lets out a, “Huh.”

When he waits for her to elaborate and she doesn’t, Bucky sighs. “What is it?”

“Do you know a Joaquín Torres?”

It’s far from the question he was expecting but Bucky answers in the affirmative. “He’s a baking consultant on the show.”

More typing. “Does he have good taste?”

There’s a tiny, childish part of Bucky that wants to say no, because Torres is chirpy and bright-eyed and his unfailing enthusiasm is exhausting at times, but that would be a lie. “Yeah, he knows his stuff. Why?”

“He lives in Atlanta; he posts about a lot of local hidden gems. There’s a Tunisian restaurant a couple blocks from your hotel, apparently? Kind of looks like a hole in the wall but he says the food is amazing.”

“I don’t know, Bec. It’s late and eating out alone is depressing.” His limbs feel heavy, and his shoulder is starting to hurt from having the prosthetic on for so long, and he knows that food would make his headache go away, but he just can’t drag himself off the bed.

Like Becca knows what track his mind is on—and honestly, she probably does—, she chooses this moment to go for the knockout. “Come on, Buck; it’s my job to look out for you, and you’re too far away for me to drag you out to dinner and make sure you eat. Throw a girl a bone here.”

She’s too powerful for her own good.

Bucky drags a hand down his face, sighing again. “You know, I hear some people don’t let their baby sisters tell them what to do all the time.”

“Poor them,” says Becca.

“Poor them,” echoes Bucky, and asks her to text him the address.

When she does, he looks it up and realizes that it really is only two blocks away: completely walkable, even in Atlanta’s late spring heat, and only a little further than the convenience store where he’d planned to grab his apparently pathetic dinner.

It’s only when he gets to the door of the restaurant that he remembers it’s a Saturday night and he probably should have thought to make a reservation. The place only has a handful of tables to begin with, and they’ve all got people at them. The host already has an apologetic look on his face as Bucky walks in, but they both turn in surprise when they hear someone inside the restaurant call out to him.

“Bucky!” says Joaquín, as brightly as ever. “Come sit with us.”

Because the universe has a sense of humor, ‘us’ is of course Joaquín and Sam, who are having dinner together. Alone. On a Saturday night.

It can’t be a date, Bucky reasons. No one would invite a random acquaintance to third-wheel their date, right?

He realizes that he still hasn’t responded when the host assures him that of course they’ll be able to add another place setting to the table, and before he knows it, Bucky is being whisked over to their table.

Whatever mood had settled over Sam after the signature today seems to have dissipated, and he turns to Bucky with a grin on his face. “I hope you trust Torres over here, because he ordered way too much food for us and didn’t let me see the menu.”

Joaquín shrugs. “I come here a lot,” he says. “Not enough people know about it, but it’s amazing.”

“Which is why he’s on a mission to be their one-man marketing team,” says Sam. “We got here half an hour ago and he’s already posted on Instagram like, ten times.”

Bucky thinks of the sound of Becca on her computer as she’d talked to him earlier, how she’d pivoted from suggesting the diner he’d probably have ended up at to this specific restaurant, and suddenly, this coincidence feels markedly less like a coincidence.

He’d probably feel more annoyed about it if he didn’t spend the meal close enough to Sam for their shoulders to constantly be brushing. Torres is right; the food is great, but if anyone asks, Bucky’s pretty sure the only thing he’d be able to recount is how many times Sam touched his arm to ask him to pass things, or dished some more food onto his plate, or gently nudged him while telling Joaquín stories of their time filming season two.

When the check comes, Bucky insists on paying, to make up for crashing Sam and Joaquín’s dinner, and as they stand on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, Joaquín offers to drop them off at the hotel on his way home. He’s about to accept when Sam waves it off. 

“I think we’ll just walk back,” says Sam. “It’s so nice out, and the hotel’s probably closer than your car is.”

There’s a moment where all three of them silently commiserate over the trials of city parking, and then Joaquín says he’ll see them tomorrow and heads off.

Bucky glances sidelong at Sam, whose eyebrows are knitted together as he looks down the street towards their hotel. He can see the entrance from where they’re standing, but Sam gently touches his elbow and nods down the street to their left—the long way, Bucky realizes, a moment too late.

[abnerkrill]

🧐👀

(For the fanfic writer asks)

thank you friend <3

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

rarely, but if i do it can get intense!! i am very much an in-depth researcher for original fiction, but fanfiction is my personal fun time, so i'm often happy just to bullshit based on pure vibes :)

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

...so Simon Monroe is an incredibly repressed Christian gay and that just makes me sooooo *clenches fists* blorbo of all time and i simply must write a character study that drifts from his religious upbringing to his accidental matricide (which i realized recently, abner has committed accidental matricide too which makes the simon abner Venn diagram absolutely HILARIOUS) to his zombie cult membership all the way to falling in love. love saved him, zainab!!! love saved him!!!!!!!!!!!

ask me about fanfic!

[raee-studyblr]

alrighty!! so this me your very own studyblr valentine <333 (did you guessed it already or had an idea 👀) i hope you had fun while reading my asks and i wish we will be frens for longgg! here's lil present for you( soft/in love vibes) <3

Zainab! Hiihii, I hadn't initially thought of you lol but I had an epiphany yesterday thanks to your last post where you were listening to 'Polaroid Love'. It was great getting to know you and thank you so much for the playlist! It'll be on repeat from now :) And I hope we'll be friends for a long time as well!

Here's your moodboard, I made one for Soobin since I wasn't sure what you'd like

[myhoneststudyblr]

something crazy just happened...

i started this blog a year and a half ago and i honestly never imagined i would reach 100 followers let alone 15k!!! so i want to thank you ALL for being so lovely, welcoming and supportive - whenever i come on to tumblr, the studyblr community never fails to make me smile

this studyblr has been such an important journey for me and since i’ve made it i’ve grown as a person and as a student. it has taught me so much, from good study habits and self-care tips, to even some things about who i am as a person!

since i’ve created this blog and particularly in the past few months I've had the honour to meet and get to know some truly incredible people and i want to tag some people who i love and im so thankful to for being so kind: 

(you should all go follow their blogs if you haven’t already)

(btw it is probably gonna be quite long cause i have so much to say about these incredible people!!! sorry but im not really sorry XD)

@redlitmusbluelitmus MIA!!! i have already told you so many times how glad i am that you are my friend but i am going to do it again right here cause i can!! you are quite possibly the nicest, funniest and supportive people i have ever had the pleasure to meet. we haven't known each other for that long but in that time you quickly became an amazing friend and we have always just *got* each other!!! 💕💕💕

@study-van yasemin - our first conversation was pretty much a car crash and every one since has made me laugh and look like a proper idiot cause im usually just staring at my phone! i’ve followed your blog for so long and i’m so proud of all the amazing things you are doing and i’m so glad to have you as a friend after so stalking your blog for so long 💕

@museeofmoon zainab!!! we’ve known each other only for a short time now but our friendship was pretty much immediate!!! our conversations are filled with emojis, emoticons, capitals letters and XDs and i wouldn’t have it any other way!!!!! your posts are works of art and i will forever stan them <3

@headgirlstudy Ellie - discovering your blog was one of the best things to come out of my 2020 quarantine challenge cause you have this incredible style and simple beauty to your posts that i just can’t get enough of! i’ve loved having our fangirl conversations about taylor swift and all her incredible songs! you probably don’t know this but one of those conversations took place when i was feeling very low but discussing all the songs with you lifted me up so much so thank you xxx

@jeonchemstudy DAPHNE!!! if i ever create a bujo, i want it to look like yours because honestly, i don't understand how you managed to create such beauty!! we are interested in such similar things and it’s been so cool to find a fellow Gallagher girl lover (i was so shook when i found out you loved the books cause i usually feel very alone in my loved of them XD) and someone who is obsessed with last week tonight as me!!! x

@bulletnotestudies sabrina... you are just incredible and such a joyful person!!! i will always remember you messaging me when i posted that i was stressed about an exxay exam and your message was the last thing i saw before doing it and honestly if gave me such a boost! you’re positivity and supportiveness blows me away and i want many many more conversations with you xxx

@lattesandlearning laura - you were one of the most dedicated posters throughout the quarantine challenge and i loved seeing each and every one of your posts! i’m so glad to be following your journey and seeing what you’ve accomplished even in the short amount of time that I've known you <3

@upside-down-uni mo!!! another incredibly dedicated poster in the quarantine challenge and one that i always specifically looked out for! you and your blog have truly opened my eyes to other experiences and educated me more than you know just from your responses and posts! i always see that you like my posts and even on my dumb little text posts you often reply and it always makes me smile! i’m so glad that you’ve created this officially studyblr and thankful to you for making the community even more colourful 🌈

@coffeeandpies pat, i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again but you are the basically the third person that i followed in the studyblr community and to think that we’ve actually had conversations and we are friends and mutuals is downright crazy to me because you are imo just one of those iconic blogs!!! you are a beautiful person inside and out and your text posts are hilarious and tell the best stories. thank you so much for being so lovely <3

@coralstudiies you were the first person ever to really message me on tumblr and i remember being so shook because i think your blog is just mind blowingingly incredible! every picture of your notes looks like a work of art and i don’t know how you manage to make them look so perfect!!!

@problematicprocrastinator beth, you are a pillar of positivity in this community and your supportiveness and openness is at a level that i aspire to! your morning messages are usually the first thing i see (at least when i still was going to school on the bus every morning before all of the corona stuff) and it always gave me a little boost for the day! you are an incredible writer and your dedication to supporting everyone in this community is amazing <3 (also your blog name is probably the best one i’ve ever seen and i’m so jealous ngl)

i could wax lyrical about every studyblr i know but this post is getting really long so here are more of my favourites (just know that if you are in this list i have a little monologue about how amazing you are in my head and i appreciate you so much 💕💕💕)

@chazza-studies-alevels @stuhde @captainofstudies @sosiaalitieteet @elleandhermione @mid-afternoon-tea @athenastudying @learning-to-think @serendistudy @philology-studies @rivkahstudies @emili-a-a @nabasynth @divinity-study @cals-desk @abbieestudia @studywithprincess @studybuddiesareoverrated @casual-minimalist @stu-dna @coffe-in-cup @adelinestudiess @intellectys @eintsein @einstetic

there are so so many more that could be added to this list and i’m sure i’ve forgotten people!! basically i ADORE every single person in this community and i’ve loved getting to know all of you and i hope i’ll be able to meet more people in the next few years 💕💕💕

Now here’s the blograte celebration!!!

I did a blogrates for 10k followers but i enjoyed it so much and it was a while ago now that i want to do it again with all you amazing people!!!

Rules

Must be following me although new followers are welcome too!

Must be a studyblr or at least mostly (cause I want to find some more studyblrs to follow)

Reblog this post

Send me an ask : in the ask begin with your favourite emoji so I know it is a blog rate then tell me a funny story! 

Please don’t send anons - if your studyblr is a side blog just tell me this in the ask

Please let me know what you tag your original content with (specifically if it is not in your bio) 

Please be kind and patient! i am very busy this summer with lots of work as well as running my Summer Studying Challenge so it may take me a little while to do it but hopefully, i’ll get it done as fast as possible

I will be doing these blogrates until Wednesday 22nd July 

Format

URL | not my style | I kinda get it | awwww | I’m loving this! | how did you even come up with this masterpiece!?!??! |

Icon | what is it? | nice | aesthetic™️ | *heart eyes* | I WANT IT NOW THIS IS SO GORGEOUS |

Mobile theme | eh | nice | good | amazing | aesthetic af |

Desktop theme | default | nice | good | amazing | give me the code pls |

Following | no sorry, but you’re still amazing! | I am now omg! | how could I not?!?!! | forever and always ❤️ |

Original content | couldn’t find any :( | nice | great | well done! | I LOVE! | ABSOLUTE GOALS!!! |

i will be tagging my blograte posts with #myhoneststudyblr15k if you wanna blacklist them so your dash doesn’t get filled up!!

Thank you everyone!! <3