memories relapsed

Oh broth-er!

Stan starts calling Ford “Soup” while they’re out at sea. At first Ford thinks he’s mis-hearing Stan, but he is consistently being called ‘Soup’. Ford starts worrying it’s a memory relapse with nicknames, and one day decides to gently confront Stan about it, in case it brought up any lost memories yet.

“Stan,” he started, hesitating to ask what’s been most on his mind for the last couple weeks.

“Yeah, Soup? What is it? Spit it out.”

Ford steeled himself and came to sit by his twin, who had taken to retying some rope they had, practicing knots. “Stan, do you realize you’ve been calling me something different for the last couple of weeks?”

Stan looked up, eyes narrowed contemplatively. Then he nodded, mostly to himself, and answered. “Yeah. What’s the problem?”

Ford was not expecting Stan to be aware of it. He leaned in closer as he asked, “Why have you been calling me Soup? Are you confusing it for a former nickname or–” Ford was cut off as Stan put a hand over his mouth to curb the spew of words flying from Ford’s mouth. He briefly considered licking the fingers but instead just slapped the hand away, closing his mouth so Stan could answer.

“Listen, Ford, I call it like I see it. I’ve been calling you Soup because you are my BROTH-ER, after all!”

Stan leaned back, howling with laughter.

Ford scowled. All the worry and uncertainty over the last two weeks was just the set up for another of Stanley’s ridiculous puns.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Stanley. But from now on you’re going to have to watch your weight.”

Stan looked a bit confused at that and asked why, wiping a few mirthful tears from his eyes.

Ford grinned and rolled back his sleeves. “From all the knuckle sandwiches I’m going to give ya. Come here!”

And Stan yelps, jumping up and running away from Ford, all around the boat, until the two finally dissolve into laughter after slipping on the deck. 

Yes, Stan had worried him with the strange nickname business, but at the end of the day, they were still brothers, and they were finally living their dreams.

“Hey, pass the harpoon, Soup.”

Ford rolled his eyes, passing the weapon over.

They never said they were perfect.

Mute Part 4

Part 3

Genre: Angst
Words: 2,046
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Rape mentions, hmmm possible cheating (pls don’t read if this will trigger anything & also i’m here to listen if anyone needs to talk)
Summary: Bucky doesn’t know what to do when traumatizing events result in your witty remarks dying down to nothing.

You vaguely remembered Bucky helping you brush your teeth of the acid that had come up before putting you back to bed. The memory was hazy, but you could still see the hesitation in his movements as he draped the covers over you. As he was walking away, you had reached out and gripped his metal arm with a strength you didn’t know you still had. You barely saw his confused expression before you drifted off once again.

The next couple of days were very experimental. Bucky would attempt to touch you in the slightest and most innocent of ways, always respecting your boundaries in the process, and he would always observe your reaction. It took a while, but three days after the incident he realized why you had accepted his touch in the bathroom, and why you did it on certain occasions the past few days. It was the metal. While the touch of his flesh hand still made you jump and kick out at times, the metal relaxed you as soon as it touched your skin. Nothing about it could remind you of the days you spent in pain. It solely belonged to Bucky and solely reminded you of Bucky. It was a reminder of his safety and his presence.

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The days when Stan wakes up screaming Ford’s name, rocks himself off his bunk and makes himself sick, still apologizing between heaves.

The nights when he wakes up in a cold sweat, the image of a closed curtain staring at him from where he lay sprawled on the ground.

The moments when Stan gets caught up in the mundane activities just like his day-time routine for thirty years, so much so that when he sees Ford he drops what he’s holding and whispers (wants to yell but the words are stuck in his throat)

You’re back?!”

[Ford has had thirty-nine reunions with his brother and thirty-six of them are the way Stan always dreamed they’d be.

The first bad reunion was their first meeting ten years after Stan had been thrown out. Not how Stan pictured that going.

Their second bad reunion was after Stan saved Ford from the portal. A punch in the jaw was not on his list of acceptable possible responses from his brother.

The third bad reunion was the first time Stan had a memory relapse since regaining his memories after Weirdmageddon—Ford had been so shocked at the sudden backtracking of Stan’s mind, he’d yelled and confused Stanley further. It was a bad night for both brothers.]

So uhh. About that ‘Asra tried bringing the apprentice’s memories back a few times and all ended up with their mind being broken’ ? Yeah. I hurt so much right now. :’) I kinda gave up in the end because I spent too much time on it and got distracted too many times so LOL

Have at it anyways, even if the quality worsens at the end. <3

It had been a few months now since the incident. Asra kept a close eye on them, making sure that if he did go out for trips, he’d come back sooner. He simply didn’t want to be away for too long, not knowing what could happen, like a relapse of memories, made him nervous and scared. But he knew their apprentice well, sooner or later, they’d start to question the missing gaps and he could no longer ask them to ignore it. 

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i work at the chapstick factory. my lips feel like god. getting a promotion to chapstick tester ruined my life because my lips are so smooth my wife tried to kiss me and slipped off, the concussion from which triggered the cointelpro sleeper agent in her brain and now she’s trying to kill me. so now i need to repeat the process and hope the next concussion relapses her memory back to before I got the job


Fiddauthor “Snuggles and Cuddles”

Alrighty and here’s my take on Day 2!

I’ve decided since I enjoyed it so much for a few other fan weeks I’ve done this month, I’m going to accept Fiddauthor Requests for this fanweek too! So if there’s any Fiddauthor ideas you’d like to see me write, just send me a request and I’ll start writing them after all the main prompts for the week! I’ll be taking requests until August 4th!

Until then, I hope you enjoy!

You can read this story under the cut or on my AO3!

word count: 1179

There were a few cracks of thunder outside when Fiddleford suddenly woke up. The sound was muted but the light was still there. And that rumble that shook his chest.

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Since Disney owns the MCU:

Merida is actually the daughter of Clint and Nat. The Winter Soldier kidnapped her as a baby and Hydra used her in a time travel experiment. She ended up in medieval Scotland.
Meanwhile, her parents were heartbroken. So, Fury erased their memories and told Clint that he was married to Laura and he and Nat are just friends. Only Fury and Laura know the truth.
Before Bucky goes back under, he states that he remembers Clints daughter and Clint has a memory relapse.

Soul Work Recharging from Heavy Retrograde Energies

I will admit lately i’ve been losing my mojo. I finished nursing{for those who don’t know, that’s hormonal overload. I’m getting my body back which i haven’t since 2012! Interesting date}, I’ve been hard working on the library and ecourse plans, dealing with my kids one is getting the awful molars and I was just burning myself out blantantly.
The energy has been heavy, leaving us drained and really feeling like i was suddenly unproductive and going backwards.

So I decided to step back and do some soul work.  When in doubt, go within.

I went back to my unplugging rituals, decided to slow things down, and have been coloring mandalas in the morning. Taking time to do nothing is amazing in this energy. Wow just this simple change has been helping give me back relaxation and release the built up energy of retrograde. It really put things into perspective and felt very heart healing. 

This Retrograde is pretty heavy and resistance if we’re letting it.

Advice for Retrograde:
 Go Deeper into the Subconscious Activities 

Retrogrades Highlight the Subconscious. 
I recommend going into the Right-brain activities.

Creativity. Decorating. Baking. 
Slowing down.
Intention settings - Manifest juice.
Gratitude - Any way to start raising the vibrations.
Watching the Synchronicity and deja vu patterns coming up  
Going within, talking to the universe/higher self/guides
Soaking in Imagery - Pinterest, tumblr, instagram good places for this.
Embracing the Inner Child - play, imaginative wonder, 
Comfort activities - Movies, Games, TV, nature,
Feeling more instead of over thinking, allowing yourself to let go more and letting intuition guide you during this energy. 

We are coming into the Lunar eclipse energy on the 17th. Therefore this will feel like a double dose of divine feminine energy.
Heavy intuitive right-brain feeling space.

The Left-brain processing will feel a bit off. Brain fog. hard to do more logical things.   This results in what some would call “short circuiting”. You begin to experience brain fog, memory relapses, a brief moment of dyslexia, inability to focus on tasks, inability to read for very long, lack of focus, forgetfulness, thinking words but not speaking them, scatterbrained, losing interest very quickly, feeling overwhelmed with understanding the concept of communication and language. 

Lunar Eclipse is very internal, reflective, & emotionally driven. 

There is lots of push and pull going on. Be the Eye in the needle. 

Take Time to do Nothing. Step Back go outside the mind and Find the comfort in the stillness. 

Remember this is the past baggage. don’t hold on too tight.

Wishing you Smooth sailing,
Bucky Barnes x Reader (Love Kills) Part 1 *Requested*

Originally posted by sebastianstahp

Request:  Can u make Bucky x reader where reader is a super soldier mentioned in ca:cw and is recued by the avengers from another base of hydra with the days bucky start to feel more than friendship to her and decide to take her on a date final fluff

Word Count: 707 (sorry if it’s short. But hey, it’s the first part :/)

Warning: Whatever :/

A/N: Hey guys, so this is my new series! I hope you like it! If so, message me if you want to be tagged! Thank you! Love ya <3


October 4th, 1980

You couldn’t remember anything. Your mind was blank. Unable to form and thought, let alone memories. A man stood in front of you. You were tied up to a machine. His voice was muffled, but it almost sounded Russian to you. Suddenly the words made you winced in pain. Every syllable, every letter felt like pure agony that you had no escape from. You shut your eyes tight from the pain. Your muscles began to constrict. You No longer had any control over your own body. You screamed, hoping someone would here you, but you knew it was no use. You were trapped. You fluttered your eyes open again, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening to you. But nothing. You felt nothing. Then, everything went black.

The man stopped speaking and walked over to where you were confined, surrounding by the abnormal machine attached to you.


“Ready to comply.”

Present Day; Bucky’s POV

Bucky looked around the room, sipping his coffee quietly. The room was completely white. White walls, white table, white chair, even his clothes he was wearing were white. One of the walls was almost completely made of glass. Behind the glass was a swarm of doctors and other people he didn’t recognize, busy with writing something down or talking to one another for them to even notice he was staring at them. He did see one familiar face. It was T’challa, the man who had helped you in more ways than one. Bucky told Steve that it would’ve been best for him, for everybody, to go back in cryostatis until they could get all of Hydra out if his head. So he could start becoming the man he used to be, before the Winter Soldier. He gave a faint smile the Black Panther, raising his mug to him. T’challa smirked, walking through the doctors to the door. He opened it with ease, shuffling his feet towards the chair across from Bucky.

“Welcome back, Mr.Barnes.” He smiled, shaking Bucky’s hand. His grip was firm, as Bucky remembered.

“How long have I been-”

“Several months.” T’challa interrupted. “7 to be exact.” 

Bucky sighed at the number, raising both his eyebrows. “How is everything? How’s Steve doing?”

“He’s doing well. He comes here often to check on you.”

“Yep, sounds like Steve.” Bucky chuckled, looking down at his hands. “I always told him I’m with him ‘till the end of the line. But now, I guess he’s saying the same thing to me.” T’challa pulled out a file from his jacket and placed it on the table. Bucky grabbed it instantly and quickly flipped it open. “What’s this?”

“We believe we found a way to get everything Hydra did to you, out of your mind.” T’challa stated, shifting in his chair to get a better look at the information. Bucky formed an almost relieved smile upon his face, growing bigger and bigger as he read. 

“Thank you.” Bucky muttered.

T’challa patted Bucky on the shoulder. “You’re welcome Mr. Barnes. We just want to help you get back on your feet. Now let’s say we get you something to eat.”

“Yes, please. I haven’t eaten in forever.” Bucky grumbled, squeezing his stomach as he and T’challa made there way to the door. 

T’challa laughed, “Only 7 months.”


A week had passed since Bucky had been woken up, and progress was moving quickly. He did everything the doctors said without questioning. He soon grew to feel better. He could sleep better, he could dream better. The first thing they did was replace Bucky’s metal arm. He was happy to see that the red star the tortured him for so long, was no longer there. The only thing he didn’t like about the treatment was how painful it was. Day in and day out, he had to relapse agonizing memories from his time as the Winter Soldier. The only thing that kept him going was his will to be in control of his life again. After a while of testing, he was finally finished for the day and decided to rest in his room for the remainder of the day. During this time, he would look back at his journals he had written in long ago. He would smile at the pictures he’d find in old newspapers and such. So much he had missed, yet all he could think about was the future.

Suddenly, his door busted open with a loud slam to the wall. Steve walked in, completely clothed in his Captain America uniform. 

“Steve? What are you doing here?” Bucky questioned, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Bucky, I need your help.” Steve said. His voice was serious, causing Bucky to grow nervous. 

“With what?” He hesitated to ask. He didn’t know what to think. Steve just stood there, trying to figure out a good way to tell his best friend what he had discovered. They both hadn’t changed much, appearance wise, accept that Bucky had shaved his stubble back a little. Steve looped his shield behind his back, securing it between his shoulder blades.

Steve sighed, gazing back up at Bucky, “We’ve found another Winter Soldier.”

@bovaria @avengebuckybarnes @dontstopwiththelyin @3brosangel @tumblinginoz @redstarstan @feelmyroarrrr @totheendofthelinepal @sebbystanimagines @cinema212 @best-username-in-the-world420 @yougotmeflying2806 @delectablyvaliantmentality @yellowtheremarvelfan @bucky-laufeyson

I know you don’t love me anymore, and I want you to know that that’s okay.
I want you to know that I’ve stopped crying over you at night.
I no longer feel like there’s a ghost in my bed, sending chills down my spine that can never be warmed by the daylight.
I want you to know that you’re not the first face that I see in the hallway.
I know you’re no longer mine to search for.
I want you to know that I can listen to our song without a relapse of memories.
Last weekend my friends and I blared it out of the car windows.
I want you to know that the first snowfall is bearable now.
I know we danced in it once, but I’m okay with dancing alone.
I want you to know that I’ve stopped being bitter.
People fall out of love, it’s okay that you did too.
I want you to know that I can love again.
I know more about love than I did before.
I want you to know that I don’t hate you for leaving me.
I know I am not what you made me think I am.
—  I learned more from heartbreak than I did from love -t.m.l
abandoning me

alone alone
and all alone
then, and now, but more alone
I chased away
the one I love
my sun, my light, my mourning dove
to save her from a life of pain
of must and swill and acid rain
I freed her from a life of me
from this monster misery

this wild animal
this mad hatter
this dark decent down Jacob’s ladder
this rabies ridden lunacy
this rotten decay that was me
impossible cohabitation
hopeless recluse rehabilitation
impossible love
no sensation
impossible life
slow castration

so I lock myself away from you
there’s nothing left but this to do
I bar the door hide the key
never found never free
never will I see her face
no more life in empty space
never remember what it’s like
no more love it’s just a spike
no more heart no more fear
nothing lovely lives in here
board up the windows
cut the lines
leaving all but me behind
pour out my water pour out my soul
moldy rusty leaky bowl
feed the birds and ravenous beasts
everything I had to eat

I throw my shit out the window
freaky fodder freaky kindle
I trash and burn everything I own
a reminder that I’m all alone
break and melt my valued things
every guitar song note and string
everything that made me smile
I found a new way to defile
art and beauty ripped from walls
no more sex life, no more balls

carefully I lay her dark dark locks
on her picture in a box
inside this precious drawer I lock
rests a locked and hidden box
I kneel before the picture drawer
bruised knees skinned from floor
I will see her, never more
(if I can’t see her, I can’t miss her
if I can’t feel her, I can’t kiss her
If I can’t steal her, I can’t kill her
I leave behind the things I will her)

then I throw the fucking key
and every hope that’s left in me
out the window to the ground
to the lover lost and found

drizzled discontent, scribbled hate
bloodied colors, no more paint
written on walls so I won’t forget
every single fucked regret
my shit and shame stare me down
no more glory, no more crown
if my eyes forget I’ll just remind them
of the brain that lurks behind them

everything is gone
it’s all destroyed
there is no song
there is no void

and now my world, my life, my being
is dripping water from the ceiling
and chipping paint from these feelings
everything I see is trashed
everything my anger’s bashed
all my love reduced to ash

I set my true love free from me
the way it always has to be
the one who suffers should be me
her silent burning memory

I think what is going on in the undercurrents is Newcomers are stepping on board and we’re feeling them. As we are ONE collective consciousness we can easily feel the others stepping on. The emotional triggers seem to be occurring for everyone which is a sign of the brain rewiring or people being triggered inti their awakening. Some may even get a taste of dark night of the soul recap or begin experiencing their own dark night.  Many people will begin to face their shadow or antithesis as the veil gets thinner and thinner. 11.11 is coming which is a stargate and a catalyst for change. For me it is easy to see people are changing they are getting sick, flu symptoms, having life triggering moments, death and the energy is hard to contain. You may be euphoric one minute and burst into tears the next. For others we are sensing more strength and with that comes our minds getting stronger and stronger. Our abilities are heightening but it feels much like were in limbo or void space needing a direction. Spurts of wanting to “ create” then suddenly lacking motivation. Our minds feel murky and our bodies heavy not sure what to do as if we are stuck in two different worlds at once. 

It feels as if we are dying yet being reborn within the physical. The old paradigm is losing it’s bearings which means the Old consciousness is dying and the new evolved consciousness is being born. This means there will inevitability be a DEEP resistance that we need to let go of, some may even have memory relapses where you feel crazy or still trapped in the illusions then the next minute you are free of them. There is an intense push and pull as the ego loses it’s bearings over our consciousness. It wants to fight for control but we just have to let go. It can feel like an direct purge of our reality, you may want to retreat from the world but at the same time you want to be emerged into it to help others. As the resistance deepens there is soooo much egocentric playing the victim, you just have to let go. Cleanse. Purge. Release. This is a strong one and it’s only going to get stronger the more we recalibrate towards these new energies. Its not the end it’s only the beginning. I’m  very excited for what’s coming, we are beginning to watch the world change right before our eyes. Its kinda unbelievable but this is very real and bigger than you can imagine. Evolution is real and it starts with us.


I have arrived in thought, numerously,
to those places inside my mind, where,
light never glints and the fading corners fuse;
I always find, doors tightly shut,
windows boarded closed;
It is inconsequential,  
to debate the reasons for this obscurity,
from my own self,
for in a way everyone is concealed,
behind shells of their own making,
safe-keeping parts of them,
pure and unadulterated;

Here I have sequestered,
a lifetime away from scrutiny,
festered into relapsing memories;
I am not complete, I am best ambiguous,
Yet I am not incomplete?

Now my senses are sublimated,
induced drugged with foibles,
as I begin to furiously dig
away seeking, the shadows, with every step,
the chiaroscuro...the dance of dark and light within me
I feel myself elongate like the flame of a candle,
and curve and break into an abstraction;
Then I congeal in the hands of the nefarious incubus
who has eyes of amber;
I feel love take me in its hideous paws,
and break my wishbone-backbone insouciantly;
I become the lake, aloof, mysterious, placid…
and then just as quickly I erupt into the crashing waves of the sea,
that dab my fires and evoke a different turmoil;

I am stymied by my half-humorous perversities,
my attempts at dissecting my whole;
The inexorable irony of it,
that my fugues should be the sole reason I query,
into the dismal,
without any means possible,
to define these blurry prints permanently.

© SoulReserve 2015