it's this narrow all the way through

katsukiyuuristrophyhusband  asked:

rules of [redacted]

“Be a secret agent, they said. You’re the Russian James Bond, they said. You’ll drive fast cars and wear sharp suits, they said. Bull shit,” Victor grumbles into his scotch. “Here’s the truth: you will bust your ass to chase your dream and in return you will spend your whole career sitting in a windowless basement and redacting things.”

Christophe brushes away a nonexistent piece of lint from his sharp suit. “Victor, you’re a valued member of the team.”

“Oh shut up,” Victor groans, downing the last of his scotch and reaching over the bar to grab the bottle and pour some more. “You don’t have to toe the party line with me, Chris. We’re off the clock. Just admit that I’m the laughingstock of the entire agency. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

Chris smirks. “First of all, no, you can’t. Second of all,” he leans in close, “you get to read everything. Do you know how many people I’d kill for your security clearance levels? Seven. I would kill seven people.”

Victor narrows his eyes. “…you already know which seven people you’d pick, don’t you?”

Chris snaps back upright with effortless grace. “A girl’s got to have some secrets,” he grins, taking a small and dignified sip of his drink. Victor takes a gulp of his own, wiping the corners of his mouth and grimacing as the alcohol burns its way down his esophagus.

“This stuff is all a lot more boring than you’d think,” he grumbles. “It’s also useless unless you know the code words, so everything is just gibberish to me. Earlier today I went through an entire file that read like it was spit out by a Markov Chain bot with a severe syphilis infection. It said something like ‘Don’t allow Eros to totter the puntsman, it vertically genders vermiculites.’ I don’t even know what they could possibly be talking about.”

Chris goes deathly white and he grabs Victor’s arm so hard that he splashes scotch everywhere. “What did you just say?”

Victor furrows his brow, looking from Christophe’s saucer-wide eyes to the white-knuckled grip on his arm and back again. “I just said a lot of high-scoring Scrabble words, so you’ll have to be more specific?”

“The name, Victor. That name. Did you just say Eros?!”

“…yes? Why?”

Chris slams his hand down on the bar. “Motherfucker. He’s back. Shit. I have to call Yakov.”

“…what did I say?”

Chris is already off his barstool and has tossed a bunch of cash on the counter. “If Eros is back, we’re boned, Victor. Just…okay. We can get this under control but I need to work fast. Find everything you can about Eros for me, please. Please. Off the books, okay? And whatever you do, do not engage with him.”

And just like that, he’s gone, like the perfect spy that he is.

Victor looks into his glass with a skeptical eye and briefly wonders if he’s been poisoned, but the fact remains that he’s the world’s most useless secret agent, so who would possibly want to?

| Protected | Yixing X Reader AU Series | Chapter 2 |

Assassin!Yixing X Bodyguard!Reader

Genre: Action, angst, mystery

Warnings: Blood, violence, language, guns

Word Count: 4,514

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3




Before you could open your eyes, the repetitive sound of a hospital monitor reverberated in your head, the monotonous drone of it quickly unsettling you.

Why am I-

The soft, yet unpleasant sound of metal screeching against metal caused you to force your eyelids open, presenting you with the blurry image of a male nurse making his way through the doorway with a small metal cart.

Your head jerked up, wincing at the bright intensity of the overhead lights as you examined the cramped hospital room you found yourself in.

“How are you feeling, miss?” The nurse’s words rang in your head, causing it to throb.

“I’m- I’m-” You struggled to get a single word out of your system as your throat contracted dryly.

The nurse pulled up alongside the hospital bed and began to fumble with the medical instruments that lay sprawled out on his cart. “It’s alright, your senses will come back to you slowly. The IV you have right now should help with the pain.”

An IV?

Glancing down, a thin tube that protruded from your forearm confirmed the nurse’s statement.

“What- how-… Why am I here?” You brought your other hand to your hair, scratching your head in confusion.

Turning your head back to face the nurse, your heart lept into your throat. Upon reexamination, the staff-member didn’t seem much like a typical staff-member at all.. As your vision began to focus itself, the nurse’s hulking biceps and rippling muscles told your nerves that this man was significantly over-qualified to be working as a medical assistant. Lifting your gaze, you noticed the beginnings of a sinister tattoo along the man’s neck, the extent of its length as well as the design was obscured by the green medical scrubs. You squinted your eyes, drifting your vision all over the man’s body to get a read on who exactly was in the room with you. As he turned around from his cart, your colored, exhausted eyes met his black, beady ones.

Something’s not right.

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Set in Stone: The Light In The Dark

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Series for @whothehellisbella ‘s Song Fict challenge. 

A story told through time leaps about Bucky and reader’s relationship.

Based on the song: Waves - Dean Lewis (Acoustic Version.) The sadder the better.

Warnings: Angst.

Words: 2k

A/N: This is an experimental series that can be read in two different arrangements: following the posting order or, later when all parts are published, in a chronological line. I hope it turns out well cause idk what the fuck im doing.

Originally posted by softtroublemaker

There is a swelling storm
And I’m caught up in the middle of it all
And it takes control
Of the person that I thought I was
The boy I used to know

But there is a light
In the dark
And I feel its warmth
In my hands
In my heart
Why can’t I hold on 

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Sabbaths 1985, V - Wendell Berry

How long does it take to make the woods?
As long as it takes to make the world.
The woods is present as the world is, the presence
of all its past and of all its time to come.
It is always finished, it is always being made, the act
of its making forever greater than the act of its destruction.
It is a part of eternity for its end and beginning
belong to the end and beginning of all things,
the beginning lost in the end, the end in the beginning.

What is the way to the woods, how do you go there?
By climbing up through the six days’ field,
kept in all the body’s years, the body’s
sorrow, weariness, and joy. By passing through
the narrow gate on the far side of that field
where the pasture grass of the body’s life gives way
to the high, original standing of the trees.
By coming into the shadow, the shadow
of the grace of the strait way’s ending,
the shadow of the mercy of light.

Why must the gate be narrow?
Because you cannot pass beyond it burdened.
To come into the woods you must leave behind
the six days’ world, all of it, all of its plans and hopes.
You must come without weapon or tool, alone,
expecting nothing, remembering nothing,
into the ease of sight, the brotherhood of eye and leaf.

Okay but. Whitestone as this melange of Standard High Fantasy (so, like, late medieval England) and Eastern European tradition. A group of settles from the south winds their way through the mountains to this valley and builds a home within the vale, under the protection of their god but all alone. Because it’s hard, traveling south from this new town, trying to navigate the narrow mountain roads rife with danger and death, so they lose contact with a good deal of the rest of the continent.

But the sea is narrow between the Alabaster Sierras and the lands of Wildmount, far more easily traversed than the mountains, and the young city finds itself often in contact with its eastern neighbors. At first they share small things: trade grains for furs, wood for fine cloth dyed in the Wildmount styles, stone for luxury goods, etc. Wildmount cuisine slowly bleeds into Whitestone food. Wildmount fashion––thick furs, and caps to keep your ears warm during the long snowy winter, and heavy boots––become popular in Whitestone. Wildmount architects are consulted about the building of Whitestone castle, because they have experience building among the mountains (and because it’s the fashion, of course). Wildmount folklore and superstition gets mixed up with stories from the south and become new and unique as children raised on both go on to recount those same myths and legends to their own children.

And time passes, and technology improves, and by the time Whitestone returns to the rest of Tal’dorei, a city of trade and culture know for the pale stone with magical properties cut from its quarries, it is neither of Tal’dorei nor Wildmount, but something in between, entirely its own.

also: Russian-influenced Briarwoods

these late nights drip with complex notes
funereal under the crescent of a tired moon
music soared once, through hill and dale
taking a shape as amorphous as shadow
aortic to heart and synaptic to brain
hungry blood rushed like a broken dam
leaving in its wake unsteady echoes
ghostly for all the unremembered seasons
and familiar roads in different directions
no magnetic pull exists for this compass
only the passing of stars and ships
weaving their quiet whispers underwater
catch and release, the only way we loved
a diverged tangent between linear points
too distant and too narrow to calculate
love is just a number, its lesson indivisible

The Girl Is a Spy {Hux x Reader}

Request:  Hux finds out his lover fem!reader is a spy for the Resistance

A/N: This is longer then I intended and I’m a bit on the fence about the result, but Enjoy!

You sat at Hux’s desk. His data pad glowing faintly with information on display. Nothing new here. You closed that file and moved to the next. So far you had collected a pretty decent amount of information about a current project labeled Starkiller. The general should be proud with how much info you’d be sending back to them.  As soon as you finished looking over this file you’d be ready to broadcast what you’d found to the resistance. As you suspected nothing interesting was in the file. You closed that one too and shut the pad down completely and placed it back in Hux’s desk. You pulled out your comlink and flipped it on. Strange. You felt surprisingly unsettled. Before doing things like this you got a little nervous but this felt different, more daunting and dangerous. It felt as if the room itself was watching you, waiting for you to start speaking to the resistance so it could expose your secret.

‘a spy’ the walls seemed to whisper ‘the girl is a spy.’

You shook it off. “You’re fine.” you said to yourself “You’ve done this a million times. You’re fine.”

You ran over what you were going to say in your head. There was no room for mistakes when relaying such sensitive information. A few deep breaths later and you were ready to go. You clicked the button down on the comlink and started talking. The problem with a lot of information is you have to talk more. Half way through your report and you wanted to tell them to hold on and give you a minuet but you pressed on. You took a moment to catch your breath at the end before asking for confirmation that they heard what you’d said.

The line was silent. It took a couple minuets for transmissions to reach the other person, especially from this far away. You leaned back in the chair relaxing a little as you waited. But relaxation was cut short. The door to the office hissed open to reveal General Hux himself. You leapt from the chair your stomach plummeting to the floor in the process. judging from the look he gave you Hux was just as surprised to see you.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked his tone was normal signaling he didn’t suspect anything.

“I was-” you trailed off noticing the comlink still sitting on the desk “I was looking for you. I-” you moved around the desk and swiped up the comlink, careful not to draw too much attention. “I just missed you I guess.” It was only a half lie. He had been working a lot lately. You really did miss him.

“Oh, well I was about to return to our quarters. I only needed to finish one last thing.”

He bought it. Releasing the breath you’d been holding, Your body relaxed a little. You moved to get around him and to the door. “In that case I’ll-”

“What is that?” He asked cutting you off half way to the door.

Your moment of relief was gone. It would do you no good to completely lie. “Its a comlink I found in the halls. Figured it might belong to a trooper or a lieutenant, so I was going to drop it by the command center.”

“You’re probably right.” He said sitting down behind his desk.

“Yeah. probably. So I’ll get going now!” You tried to excuse yourself and it would have worked.

As you went to press the button on the door the comlink went off. “Agent Y/N, report received. Please continue research on project Starkiller.”

Your eyes closed. There was no way he hadn’t heard that. You could feel the walls laughing at you now. ‘caught you! He caught you!’  You turned slowly glanging at him. His eyes were locked on you but his expression was blank. Maybe he hadn’t heard.

“Agent.” He said. The word was clipped short. He only spoke like that to you when he was angry.

“I- Its not. This isn’t-” you tried to think of something, anything to say to save yourself but you couldnt. There was no way to cover this.

“Agent! Is that not what it said?!” He was yelling now. standing from his chair and stepping towards you.


“Is it not!” He wouldn’t even allow you the chance to talk around this.


He straitened his posture and looked down at you through narrowed eyes. “It’s all a lie then.” He said. It wasn’t a question.

You didn’t say anything. What could you say? ‘Yes, I was lying about who I am and where I came from this whole time while I used your references to access top secret information!’ You couldn’t say that because he already knew. He’s a smart man.

“And your feelings for me. This relationship.” He spit the work like venom “That was all a lie too.”

“No!” This you couldn’t go silent on. “No,  Everything we have together, everything I told you about my feelings for you is true. I care for you I really do. I- I love you.” You hardly said that to each other. You reserved it for the most intimate of moments but this was an exception. He needed to know.

“I don’t believe you.”

Your heart stopped. He didn’t believe you. The only true thing you had ever told him and he didn’t believe you. Pain pierced your heart. Is this what heartbreak feels like? “I do. I do!” they were the only words you could utter. Your mind raced a mile a minuet trying to think of anything to say in this moment but it was blank. He doesn’t believe you.

Hux stepped to the side of you barely giving you a downward glance. “Get out of my way.”

Your mouth opened and closed trying to protest his leaving but you fell silent as you stepped out of the door frame. He left just like that. Leaving you stunned and hurt. In all honesty his reaction was rather good compared to what you imagined it be. There was a lot less screaming and the conversation was short, But this one felt worse. You could feel the hot tears brimming in your eyes. Your world had finally come crashing down on you and this was the result. You had to leave. You had to leave now before he returned with troopers to arrest you.

A Hard Question


Once upon a time an author did a lot of handwaving and our OTP got a magic Force Bond and lived happily ever after.  (For a while. *sweary growling*)  Except Force bonds shouldn’t really be that convenient, and while we’re at it, there was too much talking and not enough Feels™.  I decided to do something about that.  After much anguished keyboard smashing, here it is - a re-write of That Scene from Vision of the Future, except with really shitty action and waaaaaaaaay more emotions.

You’re welcome.  (I hope?)

Read it at AO3

MUSIC:Coward,” Hans Zimmer, Interstellar //Rachel’s Song,” Vangelis, Blade Runner //Where We’re Going,” Hans Zimmer, Interstellar //Truth/Mal’s Speech,” David Newman, Serenity

“I’ve never had to find a hard question in my life.  They’ve always found me first.”

“Well, I’ll be Kesseled.  I was right.”

Mara’s arm shot out, smacking gently into Luke’s midriff to stop him from taking a step any further into the chamber.  Even as the details of the massive room trickled through her periphery, to be filed away for use or caution, her attention remained fixed on a single spot nestled inside a deep alcove.  Upon a figure floating in repose within a fully-outfitted cloning apparatus, a deceptively tranquil sight.  The heat in her blood rose, peeling her lips back from her teeth.

“Ten years.  Just like you said,” Luke murmured beside her, his voice laced with something between awe and grim resolve.  Mara’s eyes narrowed; she could already feel him grappling with the moral quandary he suddenly faced, could practically hear the well-oiled gears of mercy cranking to life.

“Thrawn liked to believe he thought of everything,” she said with a spiteful satisfaction.  “He obviously didn’t think of me.”

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The Photographer and the Lonely Artist, Pt. 4

A/N: No, my dear, your eyes do not deceive you. I am actually updating this. I’m actually not being a little shit and uploading something new. Now, I originally said this is going to be the last part but guess what? Not happening yet. This is +5K words and I am not even halfway through to the ending. And since I have been very busy and have been going through so much shit that’s making writing difficult, I decided to go ahead and divide the part into two so that I can post faster. 

I’ll stop talking now. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Part I, Part II, Part III

They are standing in the same spot where they once danced, in the center of his hallway, right between the small living room and the dining table. It’s such a narrow space she remembers worrying that they might end up stumbling over the neglected food sitting atop the table. And she remembers her worries vanishing as they swayed together. She remembers the heat of his touch through her clothing, the slight tremor of his breath as it blew over the top of her head, the small movements of his fingers, gently caressing. But most of all, she remembers the way her heart burst, the way it wanted to escape its shackles, the way it fluttered and shook and wanted to meet his. This odd space separating one half of his apartment from the other was incapable of any harm in Caroline’s eyes at that time. But even it betrayed her.

Now, they stand rigid in it. Now her heart races; drums against her chest uncomfortably instead. Now his shoulders are stiff and his face is disinterested. She’s been through this before, knows the dreadful feeling of watching someone’s figure retreating into a darkness that will never return them back to her. It is a bitter one. Its taste is that of a million disappointments and its pain is that of a burning knife slowly entering once-untouched flesh.

But worst of all, is its haunting permanence. A shadow of unforgiving mockery, it hangs over her head. Laughs deviously whenever she looks at herself in the mirror, or pauses to take a picture: Never good enough, never good enough.

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Civil War

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3,326

Genre: Fluff

Note: I absolutely love the Avengers, so I couldn’t help but write this scenario. Nevertheless, this is my very first reader-insert so hopefully you like it!

It was another uneventful Tuesday as you waited at the bus stop, impatient to get back home. You had just finished your classes at the local university, and you were eager to fling yourself into your bed to catch a few hours of sleep before your shift at the bookstore started. You were really starting to regret taking morning classes. The whole point of college was that you could choose what time you wanted to show up, so you had no idea why you decided on torturing yourself with the same hours as a high school student.

You look around and a couple more people were standing underneath the awning of the bus stop, glad to have relief from intense rays of the afternoon sun even for a little while. The bus was running a bit late, but you were used to this by now. Not everything in this city was perfectly punctual, no matter how much the people of Seoul busied themselves to try and make it so.

You repositioned the bag that was hanging from your right shoulder, its heavy contents slowly starting to take a toll on your muscles, as you reached into the inner pocket and pulled out your phone. You woke up the screen to check the time and realized that you had gotten a text message from your brother, Yoongi.

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This universe is in chaos. Entropy, degradation, a slow collapse of all we know and all we do not. Within its vast expanse lies the spinning arms of the Milky Way Galaxy, hurtling through space. Look closer. Look much, much closer, into the Orion arm, find the Origin System. Closer still: Factions of tiny specks battling other tiny specks for the control of larger specks. Some of these specks are Tenno, fighting under my banner. Do you see how small they are? I do. Their sight is so narrow, their reach so short. But I know the passion that is within them, the passion that drives and pushes them to beyond the sum of their parts. They were made for more, and so was I.

Why remain complacent reigning over all Tenno when there is an entire galaxy, nay, an entire universe awaiting order and rule? Why stop at one Grakata when you could have two? Why CAN’T you ride on your massive purple kubrow through a shower of credits? These are the questions that will move us forward, Tenno, with me, the Lotus, as your leader.


im extremely supportive of all gays but saying dream daddy is exclusively for gay men is really??? narrow minded. this game is for everyone in the lgbt+ community and its supporters not just gay men its there to portray very real people who have lost a lot and are trying to make their way through life properly raising their kids

there are trans characters, bi characters, pan characters, outright gay characters, characters who are using you for their own gain, there are so many ways your relationship can crumble before it even begins, you need to treat these characters like people, you need to relate to them you need to be understanding of them

like you would a real relationship

but you need to be aware of what bad things can happen like in josephs route; he is canonly a man whos just doing whatever he feels like because he can he’s representing the part of the gay community who dont treat their sexual partners like actual people and yes whether you want to believe it or not there is a side like that

being hypercritical of people and using people isnt exclusive to straight people and we need to understand that not shun it because we dont want to believe gay people could possibly do something wrong

this game is a teaching tool for everyone in the lgbt community, young and old. gay people shouldn’t be stereotyped as what straight writers always make us out to be. we’re humans, we’re flawed, we all have our own personalities and interests, we’re not perfect and we need to start supporting the idea of lgbt characters who dont have good morals because not ever lgbt person has good morals

these devs put their heart into a wonderfully crafted game that has amazing writing and characters. either play the game and respect it for what it has to offer or dont. nobody ever said you had to play it or get angry at people who were just trying to give you a good story about a man and his daughter moving and going through some shit.
When the Crowds Don't Remember My Name | Chapter 2
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

 Mike didn’t know why he missed the exit for his house, why he kept going until he reached downtown. Petco was lit up like his last birthday cake, but he didn’t stop there either. He’d never been to Ginny’s new condo, but he knew which building it was in. He left his car in her parking garage and headed to a bar around the corner.

 Inside, the game was playing on the TVs. The Padres were down 3-2 in the top of the fifth. Mike sat at the bar, earning a double take from the bartender, and drank a couple of beers while he watched. Whenever they showed the dugout, Ginny was either deep in conversation with Livan and Sonny, or standing by the stairs cheering her team on.

 She looked as tired as he felt.

 Mike hadn’t stopped moving since the end of September. Within three days of his retirement party, he’d jumped on a new BMW motorcycle and headed east. He’d needed to clear his head, get some distance before he did something stupid like show up at Ginny’s door with his heart on his sleeve. What if he only wanted her because he couldn’t have her? What if he told her how he felt and she didn’t feel the same? Because she drove him crazy, and not just because he wanted to get her in bed. If they crashed and burned, he stood to lose one of his best friends. Mike didn’t make friends easily, not ones he could trust.

 Some time apart would be good for them. He’d been sure of that when he picked up Route 66, followed it through the Southwest and up into tornado country, hitting a few major league cities to talk to other retired players. There were women along the way, some who knew who he was and some who didn’t. Mike had been friendly and charming more out of habit than genuine interest. It reminded him too much of the early days of his marriage, when the groupies hadn’t believed that Mike was faithful to Rachel.

 Except he wasn’t married now. He wasn’t even dating anyone. His former teammates would never believe it, but the man who’d fucked his way through most of the groupies in the National League had been celibate for more than a year. The endless parade of women with their coy smiles and wandering hands had lost its appeal.

 The woman he wanted was standing under the hot stadium lights, her face glistening with sweat, her eyes narrowed as she focused on Livan’s signals.

Continue reading all 8000 words on AO3

s y n d r o m e s - pt. 13 (m)

Group : BTS

Members : All seven (Park Jimin is main, tho)

Genre : Criminal!BTS, psychology themes, slight smut, fluff, angst

Words Count :

Description :  “Lima syndrome is the result of the abductor / kidnapper sympathizing with his hostages”. And Park Jimin had never heard of it before, when he took you as his hostage.

A/N : this chapter is a little intense, I guess?

previous : part XII | next : part XIII


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I Can’t Save Her: Part 23

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Violence Against Women, Mentions of Torture

Word Count: 1,629

Catch Up Here

Summary: You have been with the Avengers for three years and during that time you have developed a close friendship with Bucky. When you discover another woman in Bucky’s room you begin to question what your true feelings for him are.

Author’s Notes: Bucky’s back, but for how long? Tags are at the bottom. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged/removed.

Originally posted by peter-quills

Originally posted by magnetosmind

Originally posted by hayleymarshalldaily

For all of its strength that was built upon blind loyalty – H.Y.D.R.A. agents were typically not the greatest advisories when faced by an Avenger. Steve, Tony, and Nat made quick work of the guards on the first floor as I hacked into their security archives. As I typed furiously I heard movement from behind me – without thinking I pulled my gun and quickly spun around.

“Easy there, Tiger!” Tony said sardonically as he raised his hands in the air.

“Well…. Steve did tell me to be on my guard,” I added sourly as I turned back around.

“Have you found what you’re looking for yet?” Tony asked impatiently as he hovered behind my shoulder.

“I’m almost there,” I added as I hit one final key. Suddenly the screen was filled with a live video feed of Bucky. My hand reached out instinctively to touch the screen. “Steve,” I called hoarsely.

“What is it Y/N?” He asked breathlessly as he rushed into the room.

“I found him. I found Bucky,” I muttered softly.

“Tony?” Steve asked.

“Already on it. I’ve scanned the building – if you and Y/N go over there you won’t be seen by incoming hostiles. Once we have lured them in you can sneak behind them and get downstairs to Barnes,” Tony pointed to a shadowy hall as he spoke.

I began to follow Steve out the door before I stopped for a moment and turned to look at Tony. “Tony?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“How do you plan on drawing them out?” I asked nervously.

Tony grinned slyly. “Oh you just leave that all to me.”

I wasn’t sure exactly how Tony managed to pull it off but he did it brilliantly. He was certainly the flame that attracted and burned up most of the H.Y.D.R.A. guards. During the chaos Steve and I slipped through unnoticed.

“Which way?” Steve whispered as we slowed to a halt. We had made it down six flights of stairs and were standing in a narrow hallway. As I looked down both ends of the hall– trying to remember the relation of the room to its surroundings – a bloodcurdling scream echoed from our left. I had heard that scream before – every night for the last two months when I had drifted to sleep.

“Bucky,” I muttered under my breath as I broke into a dead sprint down the hall.

“Y/N!” Steve whispered violently behind him.

I had been trained for events like these – but my training and rationale were thrown aside. All I wanted was to stop the cause of Bucky’s screaming. I had to – it was pure instinct that drove me to find him. I was so distracted that I was surprised when a thick metal door slid closed behind me, effectively blocking Steve’s entrance into the room. Of course, it certainly shouldn’t have surprised me when a fist met with the back of my skull causing me to crumple unconscious on the floor.

I awoke to a sharp kick in my ribs which knocked the breath out of me. “Wake up,” a thickly accented male voice demanded. My sharp intake of breath certainly didn’t help the throbbing pain in my side. Heavy footsteps trailed off into the distance as I began to become more conscious of my surroundings. My head was throbbing– luckily nothing felt broken, but it hurt like a son of a bitch. As I lifted my head away from the floor I could feel my matted hair gently tug at my scalp – it had stuck to the dirty floor with the blood that had oozed from my injury. I slowly lowered my head back to the floor – my body felt limp. As I tried to raise my hands to brush away the hair that had fallen into my face I felt the cut of cold metal against my wrists.

Panic set in.

I slowly opened my eyes and blinked to try to clear the blurry images before me. Once my vision had cleared I met the gaze of crystal blue eyes that I knew all too well.

“Bucky,” I whispered hoarsely.

And it was him – under the dark black, and purple bruises. He looked unblinkingly at me – his chest heaving with exertion as sweat trickled down his brow. They had beaten him severely since they had brought him here. Blood had crusted in different areas of his face and head from cuts that he had no doubt received while he was struggling against his captors. The room fell into silence as I watched his chest rise and fall – his eyes never leaving my face. He was bound using some sort of contraption I had never seen before – no doubt because of his incredible strength.

I shifted uncomfortably on the floor. I had wished for this moment for months – now the weight of his stare was too much for me to bear. I closed my eyes and sighed. In the back of my mind I silently hoped that Steve, Tony, and Nat were on the other side of whatever door had been sealed – trying to get us out.

A few minutes had passed in silence and I was once again teetering on the edge of consciousness when he finally spoke. “Y/N?” he asked timidly. The sound of his voice, which I had missed for so long, cut into me like a razorblade. I opened my eyes to look at his face which was etched with worry under its many bruises. I opened my mouth to respond, but was cut short as a stocky man in his late forties to early fifties strolled into the room from a door on the opposite end of where I had entered the room. I could tell by the sound of his boots that he had been the individual that had gifted me with throbbing ribs. As he neared Bucky’s body language changed and his facial expression grew fierce. A sense of dread slowly crept over me as I realized that this man had been the one to make Bucky scream.

“Well… well. I had assured Sargent Barnes that you would eventually join us. I’m glad you proved me right,” he said with a smirk as he dragged me to my feet by my arms. I grimaced at the pain in my arm which he seemed to immediately catch on to. “Ah – my dear. Have you been injured?” he asked curiously as he roughly squeezed my arm. I bit on the inside of my cheek to prevent myself form reacting until he finally flung me in a chair directly across from Bucky. My arm, side, and head were throbbing as the salty metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I stared at the man without speaking.

He chuckled as he shook his head and looked over at Bucky. I diverted my eyes to Bucky’s— silently asking what our next move was. He stared unseeingly in my direction. And I suddenly realized there was a very real possibility that the torture he had undoubtedly endured probably included H.Y.D.R.A. trying to tap into the dark recesses of his mind where the Winter Soldier still lingered – and the thought absolutely terrified me.

The man had been prattling on as I watched Bucky’s every move. When he turned to look at me and realized I was only paying attention to Bucky he punched him squarely in the side. Causing Bucky to wince in pain. I adjusted my gaze to the man and hissed, “You don’t get it do you? Regardless of what you do… you’ve already lost. It’s only a matter of time.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “Oh my dear, you haven’t been paying attention I’m afraid. This is all part of H.Y.D.R.A.’s plan. I never intended to leave this facility.”

This revelation unsettled me. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair as I looked at him. He caught my sudden understanding and grinned wickedly. “I heard that you met one of my associates… well met and murdered him,” he paused as he looked at me. Bucky shifted at this revelation – breaking his glassy stare to divert his gaze to his feet. I remained silent – staring only at Bucky. “Listen – I assume we don’t have much time together. I had hoped that Captain Rogers had been less pragmatic on rescuing his dear friend, but it seemed that your recovery took precedent. I had hoped to draw this all out but time is of the essence,” he smirked. At his mention of Steve Bucky had turned his gaze back to me. I was finding it increasingly difficult to read the very slight emotions that played across his face.

I pulled my gaze away from Bucky and looked at the man. “Whatever you have to say… I already know. I know it all. You can’t hurt me,” I said vehemently. My response caused him to lapse into silence for a moment and I seized the opportunity. I turned to Bucky and looked at him earnestly. “Bucky, I don’t need to forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive.” His face crumpled in pain. It was as if I had stabbed him. I swallowed hard as I blinked back tears – this was the exact reaction I had worried about.

“Ah,” the man said amusingly. “You see Sargent Barnes and I had a little heart to heart before you got here, and there may be a few things you don’t know about him that will change your mind.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but the look on Bucky’s face made my breath catch in my throat. I suddenly realized what the man had been eluding to when he had explained that he had no intention of leaving the facility.

I closed my eyes and readied myself for what would happen next.


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In the earlier days of his training an initiate goes through an exceedingly strict discipline, and every departure from the law of the Path meets with immediate and severe punishment. There is but one way of safety for him, and that is a way as narrow as the blade of a sword and as straight as its edge. No human hand metes out this discipline to him; his teacher, the adept under whom he works as an apprentice, does all in his power by example and advice to save him from error, but he cannot constrain him, any more than he can avert the consequences of a broken cosmic law. Action and reaction are equal and opposite upon the Path as elsewhere, and the neophyte has to receive the reaction of the forces his every thought sets in motion. By these forces he is uplifted or bruised as the case may be.
After this section of the Path has been passed, the way opens out, and the initiate may then safely take up again those things which he laid upon the altar of sacrifice which stands before the gate. The more richly endowed he is, the more he has to bring to his work. But after the discipline of the straight and narrow way he will never again become attached to external things as he was before; he will always be their master, able to use them without becoming obsessed by them; so that, being free from the bondage of things, he can use and enjoy them to the enriching of consciousness. But the preliminary discipline, the cautery of freedom, is essential.
—  Dion Fortune
Don’t Feel

Anon: Please could you do a Damian Wayne one in your beautiful writing about when you die? I’m feeling very angsty atm!!! Xxxxxxx
Genre: Drama and angst (mention of blood)
Words: 631


           Damian kicks the assailant that looms over you. His mid-air roundhouse kick was enough to send the attacker against the wall, making his knife clutter away to the far end of the warehouse.

           You watch Damian’s yellow cape come down and flutter towards your side. His hands desperately press down on your stab wound. You hear him yell out orders to Nightwing, Oracle, and even the Red Hood, screaming that you need help. But it’s too late.  

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anonymous asked:

My aunt is a conservative. Last November when I expressed my dread over LGBT rights being clearly threatened, my aunt accused me of "whining over nothing, president trump will protect your precious gay friends' rights". Today when I confronted my aunt about what trump's done, my aunt said "it's not that big of a deal, don't be trans if you don't want to serve".😤 So I warned her that trump will come after her - and all women's - rights eventually and again she thinks I'm whining over nothing.🤦

its not possible to get through to these people, there is no empathy for others, the only way is when it directly affects them and even then they only see it through their narrow ass worldview