romeo and juliet: suburban july. scraped knees, bruised knuckles, blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in a breeze. burning inside. an ill-fitting party dress, a t-shirt you cut up yourself, the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friend’s house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn-looking basketball hoop at the end of the cul-de-sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip-flops. a eulogy written on looseleaf. the merciless noontime sun.
hamlet: speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half-remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins, books with cracked spines, books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. a big black t-shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil under your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.
twelfth night: wicker deck furniture. new england summer. big dark sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean, patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. chlorine smell. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love, love for the idea of love, love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar, a crab fisherman with tattoos, a pretty boy with a slackened tie. a light house. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. finger guns. big floppy sun hats. double-speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drunk on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for, hope you weren’t expecting, pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. pool noodles. becoming less of a stranger.
macbeth: the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat, the stillness after battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. a sulfur smell. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path, an owl that watches you, a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke. dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.
much ado about nothing: the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck, military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch, a pitcher of iced tea. barbecue. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. indian summer. ill-timed proclamations. stomach-clutching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen, a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog-eared rhyming dictionary. camomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you have a home until you’re there.
king lear: cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lightning, a too-big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red-black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the tips of your teeth. the blown-out windows of skeletal houses. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes, shutting up, holding your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods, wondering if the gods are listening, wondering if the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.
a midsummer night’s dream: wet soil/dead leaves smell. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill somebody slipped you. fear that turns to excitement, excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hollow in an old tree. glow-in-the-dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.
Pairing: Kagehina Show: Haikyuu!! Summary: Howl’s Moving Castle AU, in which Kageyama makes a wish upon a falling star, and gets Hinata instead.
The days that followed passed by with
ever-growing tension. Upon reaching a safe distance from the town, Tobio had
carried a limp, rapidly cooling Hinata onward, up into the mountains, where he
found a cave deep enough to seek shelter.
There, he built a fire of his own,
contained in a little pit made of stacked stones, and he laid the demon out
beside it to keep him warm. He fed them both with dried wood that he gathered
outside the cave, and when he cooked for himself, he slipped Hinata his egg
shells, seeds, or cut-off strips of meat, but it was difficult. Hinata was
barely present enough to eat. Tobio spent his time crushing, grinding, or even
chewing up his food enough for Hinata to swallow it down.
All the while, the little hollow in his
chest where his heart used to be grew colder. In the hours when the weather
beyond the cave was dismal and the fire not enough, the empty space in him ached
with the chill, so much so he had lifted Hinata up into his lap before the
flame, and wrapped his arms about his chest to hold in what little heat he had.
It helped to warm him, but the pain
remained all the same.
The training room was silent, excuse the small ‘Oomph’s’ and the laid back grunts of a man piling the weights, with the scribbling of paper and pencil, then yes, the training room would have been considered a ghost town, if not for those distinct sounds.
“Your doing perfect-” A frail girl stated, jogging little notes of the soldier’s mental and physical Helth, who sat under a pile of weights. Bucky had gotten a new bionic hand, but they wanted to test out its limits and bugs.
“Perfect enough to take you on a date-” The old man retorted, watching as she benumbed in place. This wasn’t the first time the assassin tried to score a date with his little personal nurse.
“James…” The young girl threatened, tucking her lose brown hair behind her small little ear. “-Don’t let me call Steve on you again-” She pouted, her glossy pink lips formed in annoyance after watching him wink her way, not even giving much heed to her lilliputian threat.
“There’s absolutely no need for that, Sweetheart.” He sat up strait carful not to smack his forehead in the pole of weights. “It’s not much askin’-” He stood up, his ruthless form and glory emitted from his core sending waves of confidence to the girl standing just beside him. Tucking a strand of chestnut lose locks of hair behind his ear, with his new metal arm. He instantly took note of her staring, a sudden interest with his metal plates, to be perfectly honest, he was even awakened in the new metal arm extension, it felt different and didn’t even come close to making him feel as powerful and miraculous as his old vibranium metal arm. So, to make matters worse, he clipped down all the plates in his arm to cause a chain of reaction, rippling a soft gasp from his prey. Smirking as She absentmindedly tried to reach out to the vibranium metal to softly glide her hand across the smooth surface to satisfy her needs. And like that, she was scared down to a mere mouse, the sudden shout of Sam Wilson shattered the silent atmosphere like an anarchy. Causing the bitty little girl to flinch back, as if being brought to reality and not her fantasies about the winter soldier.
“Do you mind explaining to me why you’ve all of a sudden decided to hide Red Wing?”
“Your toy?” The young man scoffed, now forgetting about the diminutive nurse he tried to win over just mere seconds prior to the Falcons conniption, “Pleas—I had never even touched that child’s play.” He ushered the air from one side to the other as if showing he had better things to do in his life then play with the ‘child’s’ toy Red Wing.
“And why would that be?” Sam wolfed, throwing his arms around like a silent ninja. “I distinctly recall that I found you quite interested in my Red Wing about a week ago when you asked how he worked-” He deadpanned, now coming in between the girl- Who he pushed quite aggressively to the side- only to get closer to the brunet of a man.
“That depends greatly on what you consider asking question about your little toy-” The assassin barked, his pointer finger accusingly jabbing Sam’s chest- to the point where Sam had to take a few unexpected steps back, pulverizing the nurse behind him- who in return stepped to the side to avert harms way.
“Then explain to me exactly what you meant.” His reply was just as nearly- if not even more force.
“I precisely remember asking you- and I quote, What is that thing?” Bucky retorted, shoving his foe to the side. Face rumpled in ache.
“That’s lingo for, 'I’m actually quite interested in knowing how this beautiful pice of machinery works-.’” Sam stated, raising his hand as if to call for a memory, while his other hand laid perfectly atop his heat.
“If you want to believe that, go for it; I won’t hurt your little boy ego. 'Cause apparently your damaged.” Bucky crossed his hands, tightening his black tank top around his sweaty body. His metal
Arm crunching from the force he was ejecting.
“I believe it’s the other way around, hotshot, your the damaged one. Hens why we’re even here.” Sam fought in an attempt to save what little respect the assassin had for him.
Bucky didn’t even budge, even if the statement was considered quite low for such a human, but at the heat of the moment Sam just wanted to see the man standing before him to show a bit of hurt in his baby blues, or flinch back in pain. Just to get something out of the argument from his side. After reviving nothing, not even a wasted gasp, Sam continued, “I am warning you that I will personally see to it that whatever little life you got left in you becomes miserable for you if you don’t give me back what you stole from me- Where is Red Wing?” Sam exploded, sucking in a deep breather with his winded response.
When the pair of men had took residence in Wakanda, it was quite evident that they were to not cross much paths. Or hell would break lose. Or so stated by Steve Rogers himself.
A scornful laugh emitted the stone faced soldier. “It already is miserable doubt you can make it an ounce bit more, and you’re not making things any better at your end, considering I can see a few white hairs peeking through. Although looking at you, sorta, makes me feel slightly better inside, just because.” Bucky pushed Sam aside and grabbed the girl’s upper arm, he wanted to end the fight before it got out of hand. Because if Sam continuities to assume that Bucky had broken and hidden Red Wing, he couldn’t promise his first won’t say hello to the Falcons face.
“Enough with the jokes. Give me back Red Wing- God your so annoying. I don’t even know how Steve putts up with you.”
With that said Bucky was already a few steps ahead of Sam, the inconsiderable girl being dragged by the taller boy, not even having much of a choice.
“…Now I’m definitely ignoring you.” Bucky whispered, while walking to the treadmills, “Although now I’m going to pretend you don’t exist, because unnecessary fights makes me angry. And I’m not suppose to be angry or I could- and would rip you to shreds.”
An irritated growl then filled the room, “Give me Red Wing!” At that loud outburst Steve had then entered the building. Watching as his best friend of childhood jogged down on the treadmill with his nurse beside him taking notes of his heart rate.
Captain America looked around the training room and heaved a long, embroidered gripe. Slumping his shoulders before waving a quite 'hi’ to his friends claimed nurse. Once acknowledged, he exited the room before being dragged down to their silly petty arguments.
Seeing as Bucky wasn’t making an attempt to answer his cry, Sam dragged his teeth together in hopes of letting out the pent up anger building up in his system or else he would be knocking the deadly assassin some common sense.
“Ooh, you’re gritting your teeth now?” Bucky faked a scared accent, clinching in horror all the while running. “Little Samantha angry? Did she not get her cherry on the ice cream?” Bucky cooed tying his hair in a bun all the while running down the treadmill.
“You’re not funny, you know.” Sam corrected, watching as the nurse held the bridge or her nose In between her thumb and index finger. Obviously irked from their pointless argument.
“Not trying to be.” Bucky counterfixed. Pressing done on the machine. He came to a slow stop, and once he came down from the machine, he looked down to his elfin nurse. “What’s next, Doll Face?” He grumbled, watching as the tiny girl hurriedly scribbled notes and pointed to weigh lifting.
“Already did that-”
“Not on the bench, just normal weight lifting.” She scurried off behind his long strides. Leaving Sam beside the treadmill section.
“I really don’t have time for this, just tell me where you hid it-”
“Why do you even need that, Red Wing thing?”
“Because Red wing helps me, plus he’s mine and I need him.”
“Sam go bug someone else who has time to play with a flying airplane toy.”
An annoyed silence filled the atmosphere, with the nurse shaking her head in nihilism of the two grown men fighting over something so trivial. The silence lasted for several minutes before it was broken yet again by Bucky himself. “Why haven’t you left yet?” His annoyed growl erupted from his shaking chest.
“You have something that belongs to me, that’s why!” Sam shouted standing beside the nurse, hip to hip.
“I’ve already told you I don’t know where it is- Go bother someone else.” Bucky repeated, having about enough weights for one day. The useless blithering the men were so engaged in had become a very bad distraction for Bucky, he couldn’t even finish his laps because little Sam wants his toy back, plus this new arm Extension just wasn’t cutting the job, if anything he feels bleary of having to constantly pick up the copious metal around.
“At this hour?” Sam asked, “No way anyone is even awake- and I won’t leave you until you return what you stole!”
“You finally grasped what time it is?” Bucky convulsed, holding onto the girls shoulder for support. Even if he didn’t want to admit it he felt pretty dizzy with the metal almost draining him down. “Good for little Samantha, did you know she knows how to read a clock.” Bucky Looked down at his personal nurse and fazed astonishment. “I already told you that I didn’t play with your toy- please now leave me alone to train.” Bucky growled, after gaining enough strength to push past Sam.
“Your so ugly.” Sam thundered, again, heat of the moment and just the fact he wants to see a reaction from Bucky had clouded his better judgment.
“Right back at you, sweetheart.” Bucky chuckled, turning to his nurse who was shaking her head. “What’s wrong with you, Doll?” He asked, ignoring Sam.
“That’s exactly why I will never-” The brunet had begun, but stopped mid way, “Never mind. Just get to push-ups.” She shook her head, brown locks waved down in a chain reaction. Bucky huffed before a light bulb had appeared atop his head. “Mind slitherin’ below me, so every time I do a good push up you could reward me with a nice lil’ ol’ kiss?” Her cheeks flared scarlet. Watching as he didn’t move an inch waiting for her to respond. But it had appeared to be just mild flirting in her eyes, never taking note of it more. Obtrusive at his fit posture and cheeky remark she pointed to the ground and then tapped her clip bored waiting for him to get a move on.
“Alright, alright,” He assured, cutting her sentence half way through. Tucking a lose lock of hair he went about his mission. Before a foot to his back came dragging him down to the ground. He shot up with rage. Pushing Sam to the ground and tackling his body.
“You son of a bitch-”
“No need to bring my mom into this Samantha!” Bucky hollered, punching his friends cheek as if to grab what little honer he had for his mother.
“Then give me back my Red Wing!” Sam argued, shuffling around the matted ground earning a low blow to the assassins stomach. Which in return earned a deep growl, and a sudden shove to Sam’s family Jewels.
“Stop, stop both of you!” The girl tried to pry Bucky’s metal arm away from smacking some scenes into Sam’s head, only to have doubled the pain from her first too.
“James Buchanan Barnes!” And it all ended. She had just about enough of it. Their constant fights grabbing at her last bit of patins as if playing a game of tug of war. She growled in sleepy irritation, it is just dawn for goodness sake. She had to get up to get Bucky’s system data when he was fresh and stable, which proved to be futile to Sam’s sudden rage of Red Wings lose- and false accusation.
There was another long silence, both men stared her up, Sam’s fingers jammed in Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky’s hands grabbed at Sam’s ears. With Sam on top and Bucky straddled on the ground. The long silence was then broken only by the sound of a door opening.
“Give him back.” Sam argued instantly once the nurses gaze was faltered to the unexpected guest at the door.
“Oh come on, already. I’ve already told you that I didn’t do anything to your little airplane!” Bucky shouted, pushing Sam’s fingers out from his mouth and slamming a fist to his cheekbone.
“I don’t care what it takes, but before I go to out today, I’m getting Red Wing!” Sam argued the more, pushing Bucky to the ground.
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Bucky cried, “I don’t have it!” He flipped Sam to the loam and choked him.
“Yes you do!”
“You do realize you’re fighting feather and brick here with me right?” Bucky questioned, watching as Sam tried to pry his metal arm away from his neck. “I’m Not breaking!”
“Says you. You’re arguing just as much as I am if not even more, where is Red Wing!”
“One, you started this little argument.” Bucky held his index finger and counted, still his metal arm wrapped around the Falcons neck “Two, I’m not going to give back something that I honestly didn’t even steal.” Bucky, held out another finger, “Three, just ask Steve if he’s seen it around.” Bucky unanticipatedly let go of his neck and stood up. Whatever ounce of dignity he had left, he decided on gathering, in hopes of whatever little show the nurse saw wasn’t going to ruin his chances with her.
“Dude, if you just give me my Red Wing, everything would be fine- But you and your man whore hands just had to fuck up something else.” Sam spoke, standing up and dusting his chest, watching as Bucky menace glare was sent Sam’s way. If looks could kill, Sam would have been nothing but relics.
“Really? You don’t say,” came the sarcastic reply. “Except your dumber then you actually look. I don’t have your cheap pice of plastic!” Bucky shouted, his chest raising and falling from the argument. Obviously the morning work out T'chella scheduled for him was long overdue. He was suppose be taken vitals of his system from fresh, without any distractions, in hopes of seeing how his body would react to the new construction of metal.
The door of the building had opened once again. “Honestly? Your both such kids!” The platinum man nearly roared in frustration. “Now drop the petty argument and get over yourself’s both of you! Bucky go back to your room and Sam, Red Wing isn’t in Bucky’s care.” Steve gazed around the room, falling on the nurse and T'chella watching as if a movie of drama was presented just before their eyes.
Slapdash footsteps carried the two arguing people out of the audiences earshot and eyesight, taking them down to the doors.
Steve stalked irritably out the door, the King of Wakanda also following suite, leaving the little girl to take off her jacket. “Your such kids,” She started. “Especially you, James Barnes.” Shaking her head in brickbat, she briskly walked back out the doors only to be calamitous enough to hear the argument had resumed just down the hall the two men had absolutely hated each others guts. The bickering continued on for the remainder of the early hours of dawn. Bucky barns and Sam, if only they can see past their differences, they would make quite the great friends.
Summary: Avengers High School AU. Gender neutral reader-insert. You, the new kid, just want to be left alone. But instead, you get the Avengers gang – and maybe, a new home too.
Warnings: Cursing. Drinking / alcohol. Campfire. Tons of feels and angst. Slight ScarletVision. Mention or implications of bullying, thievery, drugs, domestic abuse, bystander effect, parental death and porn. Lots of references from the movies and a few from the comics.
Author’s Note: THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG, and it’s SO LONG. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. So, keep in mind that the backstories they mentioned here are just the backstories I come up in parallel to what they’ve experienced in the MCU, mixed only a tiny bit with their origins in the comics. I only hoped I balanced all of them well, they’re so many. Have fun with your Avengers gathering! 💖️
Holy shit. Arms around yourself, you stopped pacing as a limousine – a limo, of all things – slid down the road with the ease of T’Challa and the swagger of Tony Stark, glistening beneath the orange glow of a nearby streetlight. It stopped right in front of you.
A large man in a suit stepped out from the driver’s seat, and approaching the passenger door, gave you a nod. “G’evening,” he said, then clarified your name. You bobbed your head in return, and he beamed. “Name’s Happy. Tony sent me.”
Your wide eyes swept across the length of the vehicle. “This is really unnecessary,” you said, just as he opened the back passenger door.
“Tony wanted to show off,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. You stepped inside, and sitting on the plush, black seats, you scanned its stylish and elegant interior, all black and grays and silver, and –
Yuri Plisetsky Week: Day 7 (Free Day) || Yurabek Soulmate AU
a/n: a little less that 1k, yuri/otabek soulmate AU where you experience flashes of your soulmate’s life a couple times a year. this ficlet is yuri-centric. written for day 7 of @yuriplisetskyweek. it’s still March 22nd somewhere, right?
Soulmates are a distraction. As Russia’s most promising
young figure skater, Yuri Plisetsky has no time for distractions.
Luckily, distractions are hard to come by. A strict training
regimen since the age of six has kept him occupied, has kept him from
letting his mind wander to more trivial things. Even then, it’s still impossible
to ignore the Visitings. Everyone gets them, figure skater or not, and he can’t
avoid the sudden and vivid out-of-body experiences, the flashes of another
life. It doesn’t happen often—once, maybe twice a
year—but it’s always unpredictable.
A Visiting is the last thing he expects that summer when he’s
prepping for the Grand Prix, his senior debut. He’s just coming out of a triple
axel, the one he keeps fucking up on the landing, and then suddenly he isn’t at
the Saint Petersburg Ice Arena anymore. Suddenly, it’s raining hard and he’s
drenched, his jacket clinging to his skin and water squelching in his tennis
shoes. The taste of ozone is thick in the humid air. It’s hot—hotter than it ever
gets in Saint Petersburg or Moscow, and Yuri feels like he’s drowning.
Prompt: Obi and Shirayuki stumble across a village where the people speak in riddles and shed their clothing from dark until dawn in a trance-like state. Shirayuki has to figure out what is going on because now Obi is running around naked with them