haunted-faces

If Harry Potter had been sorted in Slytherin House.

In the first year, Harry Potter decides to shake Draco Malfoy’s hand when he first offered to be friends. Even though he doesn’t like to admit it, it is Voldemort that spoke for him at that moment. Immediately after, he’s sorted with the blond in Slytherin. They team up quickly and Harry convinces Malfoy that Snape is not the nice guy. Harry discovers how Draco Malfoy was raised by a racist family and fights a lot with Malfoy and his nasty comments because he knows what it is like to be rejected for something you have no control on. Harry (and Draco, though he doesn’t want to admit it) becomes friends with Ron and Hermione when they find Ron, by himself, looking for Hermione at Halloween. Draco and Harry were sneaking out, trying to find the troll for the lols of it and Ron was doing according to the canon storyline. The four of them don’t completely get along first, mostly because Draco cannot stand the mudblood, but after heated arguments and a deal on the quidditch field (”If I catch the snitch, and I will, before you make a single goal, Malfoy, you stop calling Hermione a mudblood.”) he finally accepts to keep his mouth shut and roll his eyes a minimum when they hang out with the Gryffindors. The four of them goes in the trap for the philosopher stone. Draco helps Hermione carrying Ron to the infirmary.

In the second year, by having a true friend, Draco jerk attitude gradually fainted. Harry and him, both understand each other without words ever needed. They also hang a lot with Ron and Hermione. Draco is always quiet when they are with them. He’s too busy rolling his eyes. Harry tells Draco about Dobby and Draco forces Dobby to stop trying to kill his friend and tell them about the Chamber of Secrets. They practice Quidditch together all the time. Draco complains about his dad a lot. They use polyjuice to spy on the teachers to learn more about the chamber of secrets, instead, all they learn is about McGonnagall’s wife. Draco and Ron are both with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets but are separated when Lockhart uses Ron’s wand. They let Harry go find Ginny and stay quiet for a bit. After a couple of minutes, they start talking and recognise that they have a lot more in common than they thought. They start arguing about their collection of chocolate toads cards.

In the third year, Draco was with Harry, in the train, when the dementors strike. He says a sassy comment when Harry wakes up after fainting, yet he did hear a woman screaming. It was his mum. Screaming at his dad. They always fight. He’s jealous that Harry spends time with Lupin. He feels lonely. He hates the other Slytherins. Especially, Pansy Parkinson. She’s always following him around. He finds himself spending more time with Ron and Hermione in order to avoid her. They talk about how shitty is Divination class. Pansy Parkinson is the one that gets hit by Buckbeak. She wants to impress Draco. She’s the first one to notice that Draco is hypnotised by Harry Potter. She hates it. Draco is the one that falls off his broom. He cannot participate in the saving of Buckbeak nor Sirius because he’s in the infirmary for a long time (don’t worry Harry visits him often).

By the fourth year, we get to see both of characters to evolve together, tease each other, flirt with each other under sassy comments. Draco helps Harry getting ready for the Triwizard Tournament. Harry finds Draco tied up in the lake; he’s the person he cares the most about. Harry tells Hermione about how if he was a girl he would invite Draco to the Yule Ball. Draco invites Pansy (because he knows she’ll accept) to make Harry jealous. Harry goes with Parvati to convince himself he doesn’t have feelings for Draco. He promptly realises he’s been lying to himself when he sees Draco holding Pansy tightly. Draco starts going out with her. Lots of drama. The third task happens. It kills Draco to see Harry so devastated after Cedric’s death. If finds him in Maugrey’s office with Dumbledore and Co. Harry is angry at Draco because he saw his dad that night. Their dads. Draco is petrified, struck for the first time of the horrors his father took a part to. Maybe even is mother. Reconciliation. Draco’s character development of the end of the seventh book happens.

By the fifth year, Harry sassy comments to Draco’s father made Draco realise that his home is not at the Malfoy’s manor. Narcissa, loyal confident of her son, offers that he moves definitely with Andromeda after a torrid fight she has with her son about their link with Voldemort. She knows he will be happier there. She also knows Voldemort plans and she wants to distance her precious son from this toxic household. Andromeda’s house is also very close to the Dursleys. Draco teams up with Harry for the Dumbledore Army. They also team up with Fred and George to prank Umbridge, a lot. Harry and Draco kiss for the first time at a meeting everyone forgot except them. Harry tells Hermione. Draco tells Ron. Draco goes to the Christmas party at 12 Grimmauld place. Harry tells clumsily Sirius about his bisexuality. Sirius is moved by Harry’s confidence and tells him about how James and Lily would be proud of their son. How he is proud of the man he became. Harry and Draco cuddle secretly and it helps Harry with his nightmares. Draco freezes at the fight of the ministry. What if his father or his mother are there? He cannot risk hurting them. He holds Harry when Sirius dies. He holds Harry after Voldemort’s fight. His parents learn about it. Narcissa knew. Lucius is infuriated, goes to Andromeda’s to talk his son out of the noxious relation he shares with Harry Potter. Draco stands up for the first time against his father.

In the sixth year, they accept their affection for each other and team up with Ron and Hermione to destroy Voldemort. The whole Halfblood Prince thing isn’t happening nor is Draco plotting against Dumbledore, Snape is charged to kill Dumbledore and he’s the one that lets the Death Eaters into the castle. Draco is constantly haunted by the face of disgust of his father when he looked at him the last time they met. He accepts to help Harry but makes him understand he won’t be able to fight Death Eaters if they meet any. 

It all goes according to canon until they are at the Malfoy’s manor and Bellatrix tortures Draco for having betrayed his family and his blood. The scars he gets replaces the one left by Sectum Sempra in canon. Narcissa is at Andromeda’s when it happens. When she learns about it, she breathes in painfully and promises to herself to help Harry when the time comes. Lucius tells her when she comes back in order to win back her trust. She’s so angry at Bellatrix but she hides it impeccably, she volunteers to do extra work for Voldemort to conceal her rage. It makes her gain even more his trust for when the Moment comes. Everything goes as canon, except that it is Pansy Parkinson that goes hysteric in the Room of Requirements and set fire to it. Draco was the one that went in the Chamber of Secrets because he always hears his boyfriend talk in Parseltongue in his sleep. Draco has a breakdown when he sees Harry in the arms of Hagrid and Narcissa, helpless, by his side. When Harry moves, he automatically runs to him and throws his wand at him. He then runs into the castle to find another wand but ends up helping Sybil Trelawney with an injured student. He understands that even if he despised her classes, she’s a good person and is worth respect.

The epilogue is that after the war they both become professors at Hogwarts; Harry is the D.A.D.A. teacher and Draco is the potions teacher. They adopt Teddy Lupin and it makes them want to adopt more children: James, Scorpius, Neville and Lily. All is well.

every time i meet an adult that says that children are liars, i automatically distrust them. yes, some kids lie. but you need to focus on why your kid feels the need to lie before you start labeling all children as liars. they may need attention for a reason more complex than you write it off as.

do you know what calling children liars does? it guarantees that the day a child comes to you with the truth, asking for help, maybe over a matter as grave as their god damn lives, youll disbelieve them and let that child suffer. what happens to them will be your fault because you didnt fucking save them. and if it rots their mind when they grow up, itll be your face haunting them just as much as their abusers’

fragile ones

on ao3

title taken from 10am gare du nord by keaton henson. i love his music so much its just so….open and raw? it felt fitting for a fic like this, it just really works for late nights and emotional talks idk

i started this fic back at the end of august on a bad night and there isnt much plot to it just…speculation i guess. a character study of alya? but in this au?? im not sure. theres not much to it at all and its a little all over, but it was a fic i felt like i had to write

enjoy


Alya wakes up with her heart in her throat and her hands tearing at her hair. She groans and rests her forehead on her knees.

If only he’d shut up.

She checks the time. It’s only three, because of course it’s unreasonable to ask for a full night’s sleep. She stays where she is for a little while longer, curled up in a ball and hugging a pillow, letting her heart rate level out and her head slow its spin. When she stops feeling like she’ll throw up if she moves, she slides out of bed and pads into the bathroom.

Alya avoids the floorboards that creak and is careful to close the door softly, but it doesn’t really matter. After a few months, her family got used to her getting up at strange hours and wandering around the house. Once she stopped screaming, it was easier for them to sleep through her nightmares.

Keep reading

On Jakku, she’d etched marks into her home, etched marks into the wreckages she had raided and claimed, and now, she’d etched a mark into the Monster’s face that haunted her nightmares, her daydreams. Mine, mine, mine. Always a scavenger of broken things.

I love/hate TFA because I ended up with three new ships, one of which apparently is Problematic™ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Anyways, here’s my contribution to the amazing Reylo fandom!

Something More Powerful;

- A playlist for Hurley and Sloane from The Adventure Zone. For @tazladyweek Day 5, (because they’re pretty angsty lbr).

Tracklist:

Shut Up and Drive - Rihanna // Hit & Run - Hayley Kiyoko // Kickstart My Heart - Motley Crue // Funky at Heart - Studio Killers // Delilah - Florence + the Machine // All We Know - The Chainsmokers ft. Phoebe Ryan // One Bad Night - Hayley Kiyoko // You’re On - Madeon ft. Kyan // Loose Lips - Kimya Dawson // Fake It - Bastille // I Love You - Woodkid // Strange - LP // Haunted - Radical Face // February Air (Acoustic) - Lights // Somewhere Only We Know - Lily Allen

Listen on Playmoss

[Image Credit]

✧ — Phantom of the Opera Prompts.

❛ My power over you grows stronger yet. ❜
❛ Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind. ❜
❛ Your part is silent, little toad! ❜
❛ Perhaps it is you who are the toad… ❜
❛ Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide! ❜
❛ Seal my fate tonight. ❜
❛ I hate to have to cut the fun short, but the joke’s wearing thin. ❜
❛ Let the audience in. ❜
❛ God, give me courage to show you you are not alone! ❜
❛ Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? ❜
❛ I heard as I’d never heard before. ❜
❛ What you heard was a dream and nothing more. ❜
❛ Those pleading eyes, that both threaten and adore… ❜
❛ That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. ❜  
❛ And do I dream again? ❜
❛ You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge. ❜
❛ I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge. ❜
❛ In your mind you’ve already sucummed to me. ❜  
❛ Now you are here with me. No second thoughts. ❜
❛ Past the point of no return. ❜
❛ What raging fire shall flood the soul? ❜
❛ What rich desires unlock its door? ❜  
❛ What sweet seductions lie before us? ❜
❛ Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. ❜
❛ Did you think that I had left you for good? ❜
❛ Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! ❜
❛ You’ve past the point of no return. ❜
❛ You try my patience make your choice. ❜
❛ I gave you my mind blindly. ❜
❛ Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance. ❜
❛ Have you forgotten your Angel? ❜
❛ Wildly my mind beats against you… ❜
❛ Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigne. ❜
❛ Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind. ❜
❛ Can I ever forget that sight? ❜
❛ Can I ever escape from that face? ❜
❛ Past the point of no return - no going back now. ❜
❛ When will the flames, at last, consume us? ❜
❛ When will the blood begin to race? ❜
❛ I remember… there was mist. ❜
❛ Who was that shape in the shadows? ❜
❛ Whose is that face in the mask? ❜
❛ Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! ❜
❛ Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you! ❜
❛ Now you cannot ever be free! ❜
❛ Come. We must return. ❜
❛ Those two fools who run my theater will be missing you. ❜
❛ No kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere! ❜
❛ Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. ❜
❛ Lead me, save me from my solitude. ❜
❛ Say you’ll want me with you here beside you. ❜
❛ Anywhere you go, let me go too. ❜
❛ Can you even dare to look or bear to think of me? ❜
❛ Have you no pity? ❜
❛ Your lover makes a passionate plea. ❜
❛ Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world! ❜
❛ Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before! ❜
❛ Only then can you belong to me… ❜  
❛ You alone can make my song take flight. ❜
❛ It’s over now, the music of the night. ❜
❛ Twisted every way, what answer can I give? ❜
❛ Say you love him/her, and my life is over! ❜
❛ Now, let it be war upon you both! ❜
❛ See you later, because I’m going now. ❜
❛ This haunted face holds no horror for me now. ❜
❛ It’s in your soul that the true distortion lies. ❜
❛ For the past three years, these things do happen! ❜
❛ And did you stop them from happening? No! ❜
❛ Why have you brought me here? ❜
❛ We can’t go back there. ❜
❛ I can’t escape from him/her/them… ❜
❛ Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes! ❜
❛ Refuse me, and you send your lover to his death! ❜
❛ Go now, don’t let them find you. ❜
❛ I fought so hard to free you! ❜  
❛ Say you love me. ❜
❛ Your chains are still mine! You belong to me! ❜
❛ Wait! I think my dear, we have a guest. ❜
❛ I had rather hoped that you would come. ❜
❛ Free him/her! Do what you like only free him/her! ❜
❛ Does that mean nothing I love him/her! Show some compassion! ❜
❛ The world showed no compassion to me! ❜
❛ Did you think that I would harm him/her? ❜
❛ Too late for prayers and useless pity! ❜
❛ You little demon - is this what you wanted to see? ❜
❛ Farewell, my fallen idol and false friend. ❜
❛ Look around, there’s another mask behind you! ❜
❛ Please promise me that sometimes, you will think… of me! ❜
❛ Where in the world have you been hiding? ❜
❛ I only wish I knew your secret. ❜
❛ Who is your great tutor? ❜
❛ Why you spray on my chin all the time, huh? ❜
❛ The final threshold! ❜
❛ They say that this youth has set my lady’s heart aflame! ❜
❛ Go away, for the trap is set and waits for its prey! ❜
❛ There is no phantom of the opera. ❜
❛ Look, your future bride! Just think of it! ❜
❛ Please don’t, they’ll see. ❜
❛ But why is it secret? What have we to hide? ❜
❛ It’s an engagement, not a crime! ❜

anonymous asked:

"There are few men more superstitious than soldiers. They are, after all, the men who live closest to death." -- Mary Stewart (i'd love to see something about superstitions and traditions in the alliance, resistance, first order, empire etc!!!)

It’s mostly arbitrary, the things that survive from one war to the next. The uniforms, even if the desert world they were designed for was some fifty rebel bases and half a war ago. (Before my time, General Organa says, waving her hand. But we’re not really in a position to turn down surplus.) Call signs—there will always be a Blue and Red and Rogue Squadron, in every rebellion from here until the star death of the galaxy. Soldiers complaining about where the sleep, what they eat, the weather—some things are eternal. 

There’s drinking, the night before Starkiller, the night before every morning, and Leia tells the leadership to be gentle on these living wakes. We who are about to die salute you! she remembers Wedge laughing, before—she doesn’t remember the battle, but she remembers that, Wedge stumbling into Luke and laughing, though his face was haunted and pinched-white. 

(Say goodbye to me, Skywalker, Wedge said, and Leia remembered going hot at the raw, awful yearning in his voice. You might not get a chance, tomorrow.)

Other things that survive are less arbitrary. Leia Organa, who has clawed her way back to the battlefront. (War is her sister, born clutched between Leia and her brother. It is natural, easy, that she should find herself here again. What sort of sister does not come, and embrace her twin?) Certain battle plans…They haven’t learned, really, but in some cases neither has their enemy. Images and symbols too—Leia brings with her the flame of the Rebellion, the Jedi lost to sands and myth but born again. The Force. The Light. 

She didn’t know the story, the first time, but she’s a master of telling it now. (She was living it; you can’t see the forest when you’re standing among the trees.)

And still, other things, which survive because there is no killing them, not at all. One morning, Poe finds her  in front of—he’s not sure you can call it a mural, but it’s painted and scratched and nailed onto the lone, crumbling stone wall of old D’Qar. Names. Sometimes sigils. Sometimes lines from songs, and poetry, and stories like the one they’re writing. 

The General is pressing her fingertips to a black inscription—Han Solo, and a crude scratching of the Falcon. Poe is pretty sure it’s Rey’s handiwork, but he doesn’t know how to convey that without admitting what this is.

It turns out he doesn’t have to

“On Yavin it was a statute,” the General says, and Poe swallows back his excuses. “It probably had historical value, belonged to the native Yavinese, but—we wanted something that would remember us. The temple had stood so long, we thought….on—Hoth, it was in the ice with a vibroblade. I wonder if it’s still there.”

“Endor?” Poe asks quietly.

“A tree,” the General says. “We stripped the bark and carved our names and the names of our dead into the wood. The Ewoks helped.”

Her hand moves, and Poe stiffens when she presses her palm to Shara Bey, in Poe’s careful Aurebesh. “Her name spans eight worlds,” Leia says, very quietly. “Wood and stone and paint and—where she was, she was there, and she left her mark.”

The General smiles absently. “Well, her name and three diamonds, arranged in a triangle—one for herself, one for Kes, and one for you. On every world. In every…she painted it on the side of her x-wing.”

“I remember.”

The General’s gaze is distant. “Thank Rey, for me,” she says finally. “Though hopefully her handwriting improves before we have her submitting reports.”

“Yes, General,” Poe says. When he turns to watch her go, the morning sun is in his eyes.

Here’s the fics I read (and like) this month ! (friendly reminder I read mostly E or M rated)

☾  Bruises and Hickies, Stitches and Scarsby ElisAttack :  “You’re my lawyer, Derek.  What are you going to do, draft up a contract for yourself?”Or the one where Stiles is a professional dominant, Derek is his lawyer, and their professional relationship suddenly becomes not so professional.  Also, faeries. (89k, E)        

☾  Worlds Apart, by exclamation Nothing exciting ever happens in Beacon Hills… until Stiles appears to get a stalker. A strange guy is breaking into his house, watching him at lacrosse practice and grabbing him outside of the school. This guy claims that he’s a werewolf who knows Stiles in another world… and he needs Stiles’ help to figure out what happened to him. Agreeing to help a werewolf research parallel worlds is one thing… hiding it from his dad is another.  (32k, E)

☾  The Feeling That I’m Under , by  wearing_tearing : Stiles is a paramedic and Derek gets into a bike accident.It’s kind of love at first sight. (289k, E)

  Flowerwolf & Beacon Rootsby alisvolatpropiis :   Derek tries not to show his surprise, curiously hopeful, but still suspicious of Laura’s involvement. “Oh. How do you know my coffee order then?”He grins. “The cute baristo knows your order, dude. All I had to do was ask for Grumpy Flower Guy’s usual.”Derek huffs. “I’m not grumpy.”“He says grumpily,” Stiles smirks, winking.The sound of his own laughter surprises Derek, so yeah, okay, maybe Stiles has a point.“Laura said that you weren’t really into dating,” Stiles goes on, “but that uh, you uh, well you know.” Stiles’ cheeks flush a very pretty ruddy pink under the scatter of beauty marks that Derek aches to taste. Stiles turns away, towards the cooler of roses, muttering to himself under his breath, which of course Derek can hear perfectly well. “Great freakin’ advice, Lydia, ‘just bring up sex and tell him you’re cool with having a one night stand,’ okay, sure, that worked fucking beautifully.”“Okay.” The word is out of his mouth before Derek can even think about the consequences of saying it, something unusual for him. He wants Stiles however he can get him, it seems.“Okay?” Stiles eyes are wide when he spins back to look at him.“Yeah, okay. Let’s have sex.” (5k, E)

☾  Kaleidoscope , by Vendelin Derek didn’t look at all like Stiles expected. After all, he deliberately chose a school where being a nerd was cool, so he certainly wasn’t expecting his hotter-than-a-thousand-stars roomie to be an actual cool person. Derek has muscles, like everywhere, which he has a tendency to display in skin-tight, sleeveless t-shirts for bands Stiles has never heard of; his jeans are always tight and ripped too, and he has an impressive five-o’clock shadow, the tips of his jet-black hair dyed purple. And his eyes. Stiles is pretty sure he’s only seen eyes like that in comics, or on a movie screen, or in his freakin dreams. They’re somehow simultaneously all of the colors and none of them, transcending something so pedestrian and insignificant as words to encapsulate their beauty. Stiles would come to learn that he’s also wickedly smart, and he plays the guitar and speaks multiple languages, and his sunshine smile is even more alarming that his resting murder face.  (7k, E) 

☾  Poker Face, by tanwencooper  :  Is there any punishment in the world worse than parent-teacher night? History teacher Derek Hale doesn’t think so. That’s until he meets the guardian of one of his more troubled young students. Stiles Stilinski has been left to look after his adopted brother Isaac after tragedy stuck their family and Derek is determined to help them if he can. However after Stiles and Derek’s paths repeatedly cross, Derek’s concern soon turns to something deeper. Soon the pair begin the game of attraction. The only problem is neither one of them knows the rules, and both wear their poker face too well for their own good. (43k, E)

☾  My Moon My Manby  orphan_account   :  Derek starts paying Stiles visits during full moon nights. They sort of become a couple, but neither of them realizes it. Deaton ends up being the one to enlighten them. And then stuff also happens. (15k, E)    

☾  In Case The Daylight Never Comesby  plume_bob : There’s a relentless dark shape tearing through the pack and that’s only the half of it. Stiles just wants to sleep and stop being haunted by the faces of his night-time tormentors. His dad thinks he’s suffering from post-traumatic stress, Scott thinks he’s suffering the after-effects of the ritual; Stiles thinks they’re both reasonable theories, except for the part where Derek Hale is the only thing that can take his nightmares away and it seems that fact is no coincidence.   (82k, E)

[Sleep]Walking After You, by  relenafanel       Derek is a sleepwalker who keeps wandering into his downstairs neighbour’s bedroom.Stiles is pretty sure the hot guy from the park is going to kill him in his sleep.  He knows he shouldn’t have been so obvious about objectifying the guy’s really fine ass.  Too bad it turns out Derek is easier to get along with when he’s sleeping. (56k, M)     

Tonight, the foxes hunt the hounds., by LucifersHitman Stiles always knew finding a mate would be hard for him. He’s not bright and beautiful like Lydia, or stong like Danny or adorable like Scott. He was just Stiles, fox kid with ADHD who loved to draw. Derek Hale was everything, popular, strong, smart and gorgeous.They get put together on an English assignment and it doesn’t go at all like Stiles expects. (21k, E)

☾   In Sanguinem Scriptum Est , by secondstar  : In order to stop a new onslaught of nightmares from plaguing him, Stiles decides to become an emissary. No longer defenseless, he begins to realize that not everything is as it seems. (31k, E)

Stuff that need to happen at WTT

-Boyangman in an actual spiderman costume X  I forgive you for the spin you did at EX you meme lord

- Nathan in a polar bear onesie X come on! now I’m waiting for the twt update! You can’t get away from this Nathan!

- PoohLoco interactions (yes thats the name of the ship now fight me) ✓✔✓✔✓✔X10000 what the hell happened you guys went from friendly to HONEYMOON PHASE like WHAT

- Embarassed!Shoma but Cheering!Shoma ✓✔✓✔ Yeah mah boi even screamed for his teamates!

- Team France shenanigans ✓The Eiffel tower was the cherry on the top well done guys!

- No one giving a fuck about the scores NOPE come on guys it’s the end of the season you can chill (still haunted by Yuzuru’s face after SP)

-Tech controlers costume fest ✓ HELL TO THE FUCK YEAH

- Evgenia cosplaying✔ The return of sailormoon !

- Team Chants with the public ✓ not as much as I’d like but okay

-Team Japan stepping up their Team Spirit Game (come on Yuzu I’m counting on you to lead the shenanigans) ✓ Shoma in a pink bow tie, Shoma in a flower crown #BLESSED + PPAP REMIX VERS YOU GUYS WERE FAB!

-add more as you’d like

-JAVIER & KANAKO !

2AM - part 7 (A Minseok Series)

Genre: Angst

Characters: Minseok X You

2AM [M] - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8


Had you become desensitized to him now? You had been seeing his face all night. All month actually.

But seeing Minseok in person felt like a dream. Of all the places, in that stupid bar that you loved because of its dark quiet hidden corners and the proximity to your apartment and that damn smile of his.

So wide and so believable. And yours, just as wide and just as believable.

Keep reading

Reaper

I saw this piece of art on Pinterest, if anyone knows the artist, please tag them because this drawing inspired the story.


A/N: You always hear about the lives the team (Avengers) saves, but what haunts them are the faces of the ones they couldn’t save. Enjoy!


I awoke in the middle of the night to see Bucky’s vacant side of the bed, his pillow was soaked with perspiration and that meant one thing. He had another nightmare. It was the third one this week and they seem to be getting progressively worse.

He’s been having a difficult time adjusting, since the mission in South America when a young boy he befriended died in a mudslide that he thinks, he could have prevented. The little boy’s body was never found and it has taken its toll on Bucky, who was given a mandatory and at a minimum two weeks of rest and recuperation, following his hallucinations and short temper with the rest of the team.

There was nothing I could do, except to be the light for him when he resurfaced from this darkness. I crept from the bed and followed the streak of light that shone beneath the closed bathroom door and listened to the running water and indecipherable chatter. I opened the door quietly and saw him hunched over the sink, the muscles on his naked back moving up and down as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. His navy blue pajama pants hanging loosely from his hip and his dark hair was a matted mess, clinging to his sweat soaked neck.

We made eye contact through the mirror and he turned slightly, “I’m sorry I woke you,” He croaked before he turned to stare at his gaunt reflection in the mirror, which had a crack in it.

“It’s the third time this week, babe.” I say as I padded across the room slowly, noticing that the crack in the mirror was from his fist, which had blood trickling down the knuckles of his right hand that he didn’t seem fazed by.

“I could have saved him.” He says, his left arm gripping the sink with such force it began to crack.

I hugged him from behind, pressing my frame into his hardened mass of muscle, reassuring him, and letting him know that I am here and will always be here. “You did everything you could.” I say, lightly tracing my fingers across the fresh bruises that ran along his torso, noting his muscle twitches in certain tender spots.

He shakes his head. “He was screaming out for help, I heard him clear as day, but then it stopped. As soon as I got to the area where I thought he might be, I screamed for him.” He choked. “Yenny, I’m here just scream out! I’m here, buddy! B-but, he didn’t.” He turned to me. “Why didn’t he scream out?”

I shook my head as I thought about Yenny, how scared and alone he must have felt in that moment and then choking on the mud and dying. I shake the unthinkable from my mind and held Bucky tighter as I felt his body vibrate from the force of his emtions, “I don’t know, baby.”

He turned to look at the mirror and his fist connected with the remainder of the glass that shattered, pieces falling into the sink and on the floor. “I was there, I dug through all that mess, but I couldn’t find him.”

The blood was now oozing from his knuckles. “Babe, I’m sorry.” I grabbed his right hand and ran it under the faucet until the water turned from crimson to pink and then clear. 

I walked across the bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit. I motioned for him to sit on the edge of the tub. “Your foot.” He gestured.

I looked down at my bloody footprint as I sat in front of him. “It’s your blood.” I lied. We exchanged a glance and we both knew he didn’t have the strength to question my lie.

It was going to be another one of those late nights that will turn into an early morning and the splinter in my foot didn’t compare to splinters that have pierced his heart. He held out his hand and I began the slow process of extracting the glass shards, disinfecting and bandaging his wounded hand.

This is the side that doesn’t get glorified; my big, strong, and indestructible Soldier, whose massive frame has shrunken down to that of a fragile child, a breath away from shattering.


Happy June 1st, my lovelies. I am on a mission. For the entire month of June I am going to consistently post two stories a week, forcing myself to get back into writing regularly. That will be ten stories for the month.