To Those Who Ship Stucky or Are Otherwise Interested

ayameyume:

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

I will write a paragraph-length ficlet for anyone who likes or reblogs this post from the original source, not as a publicity stunt but as a writing exercise for an upcoming full-length, multi-chapter fic.

Come.

Mischief managed.

Update: Another post like this will come again, but, for now, this one is closed. Thank you all for your participation! :)

Ficlets are coming for the users reallyohcrap and idrathersleepforever. 

Waterlogged

Bucky would have never in a thousand years confessed this fact willingly to Steve, but occasionally his bionic limb would shock him when submerged or otherwise tainted by water. The super-soldier was already wary about the metal rusting or arm malfunctioning whilst Stark was out of town, the last thing he needed was the knowledge that Bucky’s nerves were slowly being fried by every shower or bath shared between them.

The pain had gotten to a point when it was so immense that he could not hide it anymore, accidently failing to bite back a strangled cry one night Steve decided to draw a romantic bath. To Bucky’s surprise, Rogers hadn’t decided to tear him a new hole, but give him an intimate sponge bath and cup of coffee instead. The scolding would come later, he knew, but he was happy at the time and, when you can die at any time, that was good enough for him.

On His Terms

Bucky Barnes no longer liked to be touched in any way, neither shoulders brushing in a crowd or a tender caress. He did, once upon a time, but years of brainwashing, experimentation and torture successfully scrubbed him clean of that human desire, at least for a long while.

A year spent with his old friend, now boyfriend, had managed to change his opinion ever so slightly from when he first was re-introduced to the world. Steve had a talent expressing himself through a kiss or through any embrace for that matter. He was always gentle with Bucky, easing in slowly until their lips barely touched before pulling back slightly, waiting for James to come to him. It was infuriatingly teasing at times, when it was meant to be, but mostly it was to ensure his comfort, to ensure that the Captain wouldn’t scare him away. Bucky could see the fear in those eyes whenever he took just a moment too long to reciprocate. That’s what he needed. Touch on his terms.

Anything else was too much. An off-handed arm around his shoulder would sent Steve to the floor. He couldn’t help it. It was instinct.

There where times, however that the Winter Soldier would grow frustrated, unsure how to ask after something so basic and physical as a hug or hand on his knee. In those times, Steve didn’t know to offer. Both would just sit there in a heavy silence waiting for the other to move.

Then a kiss, just as always: on his terms.  

Never Has He Ever

Never had he ever said “I love you”.

Steve had almost said it a million times before: back when they were barely teenagers, every time they said goodbye in person or over the horn. Whenever the silence grew thick between them the syllables would nearly slip from his lips like oil, halted only by the boyish fear of rejection. At the theater when they would sit just a slip too close. At his mother’s funeral, when Bucky was all he had left in the world. Nonetheless and despite all the opportunities, the simple phrase left unsaid.

As they grew older, James had his way with the dames, a trait he admired but never cared to have. While he wouldn’t have minded a doll on his arm at the time, those three pesky words still lingered within the lulls of conversation spent on double-dates or the times they discussed going off to war.

He almost muttered them as Bucky stepped aboard the military train. He called out “Save some of the action for me!” instead.

And he nearly confessed straight out before taking that zip-line down into that ravine.

In the end, Steve Rogers sobbed “I loved you” to an empty casket at a funeral devoid of people to mourn the loss of a great man and friend.

Never had he ever said “I love you”.

Just Like Old Times

Despite both men being physiologically enhanced super-beings, it was not unheard of for one to occasionally fall ill. As a child, Steve had his mother to care for him; as a teenager he had Bucky watching over him like a guardian angel. But he had almost always been the one who was sick. 

It had been over eight months since he’d been reunited with his friend-turned-enemy that he noticed the change. The Winter Soldier was off his game. Since waking up on the shoreline, he had fought Bucky at every turn, wherever Hydra had hideouts to exploit or information was being gathered at too fast a rate. It wasn’t until the man nearly toppled over from a punch that the Captain took notice. Knocking him out with a controlled palm-thrust to the jaw, Steve Rogers carried his old friend home.

Trussed and bound, the soldier’s enemy was nursed back to heath with blankets and soup and stories, everything that had once been provided for him by a young man lost to time.

Over the course of the illness, the Winter Soldier was released from his tethers under the wary eyes of a man once betrayed, and the very same eyes were met with those of a repentant friend. 

What Constitutes a Hero

"When the people look upon a superhero, they see the great accomplishments; they see the power and, at first glance, they celebrate. They cheer, but it isn’t long before they begin to see past the facade. That they realize that we, the heroes, are no different from their villains that we put away. We are violent. We don’t follow the rules. We are the unstable variables that society tries to prevent and the one-man armies that the government can sick on anyone at will. What makes us better? A cape? A shield? Why would they trust us? News flash, they don’t. To them, we’re just the kids who got bullied in school. What makes us different is that we fight to prevent fighting. We try to save the world, and we don’t need anyone’s approval but our own.” Steve Rogers stepped down from the stage not bothering to listen for the applause. Not a person in that hall was innocent of killing a man, including himself, and he felt the weight of those lives every day. 

Just as he reached the bottom of the shallow staircase leading stage-left, a strong hand caught his shoulder, holding him firm and bracing him against his thoughts. Pulling the captain closer against his chest, Bucky slung his arm over Steve’s shoulders like he did back in the good old days before either of them had to carry the dead on their backs. And, somehow, that made the world seem all that much lighter.

To Those Who Ship Stucky or Are Otherwise Interested

I solemnly swear I am up to no good.

I will write a paragraph-length ficlet for anyone who likes or reblogs this post from the original source, not as a publicity stunt but as a writing exercise for an upcoming full-length, multi-chapter fic.

Come.

Mischief managed.

So now when you do Alt + Reblog, the reblog symbol turns green, “explodes” and then disappears.

letusc:

the-doctor-and-his-companions:

ask-pinkamena-diane-p:

theshelbylife:

incestuous-lesbianponies:

laurarw:

image

I THOUGHT THIS WAS KIDDING SOGMLASG


HOLY SHIT

((Fuck, I’m on mobile))

If you your on mobile you can just hold the reblog button down

OH SHIT

(Source: dont-blink-korra, via pastelgrungemonkey)

bluedogeyes:

Captain Uhura should have been a thing 

(via S.T. Enterprise D Bridge Restoration)

Okay, story time: I actually met Nichelle Nichols once in person without even realizing it. We were both waiting in line at a hotel convenience store in the lobby when I recognized her necklace as a unique piece that I’d seen somewhere before (perhaps a rare collectibles page online?). Naturally, being me, a person who will go up to anybody and start a conversation without a thought, I apologized for intruding upon her life but proceeded to compliment her on her necklace. She couldn’t quite hear me, so her attendant had to repeat what I said, but she thanked me and continued on her way out. The cashier looked dumbstruck. I only later realized why I thought she, and the necklace, looked familiar.  

(via moonworrior)

boycheck:

your-average-homestuck:

This is how me and my family are living these months.

My mom has a great job but doesn’t make enough to support all five of us. She’s working extra hours but it isn’t enough and with school starting for my brothers and them needing over priced uniforms, we’ve all reached the end of our rope.

On top of this, my mom also has diabetes and sometimes has trouble getting the money for her medication. And as people who have/are dealing with this kind of disease you know that everything is so much more harder for her. When she gets a paper cut it can last a month and when she gets caught in the rain, she is guaranteed to get sick and as she says so many times “[she] cannot afford to get sick”.

Right now we are trying to move from this house into a smaller, more affordable one but the chances of that happening anytime soon are dwindling. In addition to this, my mom wants to visit our sick grandfather in New York who has multiple myeloma. If anyone who has heard of this would know that it affects your organs and there is no cure for it. We are all hoping for one last visit before he passes on.

I’m asking that you please help us. I don’t like this life for my brothers who have to wonder if it was okay that they are ramen for breakfast or that my mother can’t see her father one last time. Anything and everything you donate will be used to help my brothers and mother have an easier more enjoyable life.

I have set up a fundraiser and a paypal on my blog. Again, anything and everything you can spare will be much appreciated and if you cannot donate, please share this so that it gets around.

SIGNAL BOOST THIS PLEASE

(via nikkcreatingbeauty)