probably will make tomorrow or sunday

this is a weird post to make at 12:15 am on a sunday morning but basically at the end of january i had to quit my job and file a human rights complaint with my former employer and it was just a shitty, scary time because i didn’t have another job waiting for me and i only had enough saved up for a couple of months but honestly like, in the past month and a half i’ve started freelancing again and getting paid real human money to write about music and tv shows that i care about, tomorrow i get to interview one of my favourite musicians of all time and i pitched that and set it up all by myself, i put out a chapbook of my writing and it peaked at #3 on amazon’s young adult lgbt chart, i finished revising 54,000 words of my manuscript and i’m working on the ending now, and now i’m in the third stage of interviews for a wonderful job that is exactly and precisely what i want to do (fingers crossed, everyone), and my mental health has improved so, so, so much, and i’ve managed to keep myself afloat financially in the meantime with a part-time job and freelance writing gigs, and i couldn’t have done aaaaaaaaaany of that if i’d just stuck it out at my old job and spent my evenings sending out resumes and hoping for something better to come along, so what i’ve learned in all of this is that if someone is treating me badly, getting out of that situation asap and focusing all my energy on taking care of myself is always the right thing to do

Welp, just found out that I’m probably working a double tonight. And probably have to work overnight tomorrow as well. Haven’t had a day off since last Sunday.

Only thing getting me through right now is thinking of the extra money I’m making sands that in just over a week I’ll be two states away on vacation.

Coffee is my friend y'all.

It has been the longest week

Probably because I started the week on such a high- I was out in the woods, learning to make syrup, dreaming of a life in which that could be my life- making and creating things. Becoming an artist of sorts.

And the rest of the week has just dragged on and on forever it seems.

The high of Sunday and Monday has made the rest of the week almost depressing. Like maybe I’m actually in a minor depressive episode.

But I have the annual team trivia contest tomorrow, and that is always fun.

I hope all is well with you all.

katlady13  asked:

Omg I know you're writing leading suspects for pbg, but I feel so spoiled! I love it so much. It's been hilarious and the relationship development is basically what I live for. That and Peeta freaking out over Katniss getting hurt. I know you said the chapters would be slowing down, which is understandable, but each chapter literally brightens my day. Before I even read it, I'm smiling!

Thanks so much! I’m glad I could spoil you along with @peetabreadgirl. ;-) I’m kinda stoked by this message because while most of the humor is included in the book it’s based off of, I took some liberties with where I felt the relationship development fell short of my Everlark expectations.

I’m chugging away trying to get to a very specific chapter, but after that one posts (probably tomorrow but no later than this Sunday), I have got to get back to some obligations I’ve been neglecting and maybe make a crack at starting my piece for the everlarkficexchange…

Anyways, thank you again and hope you have a lovely day, @katlady13!

Just because.

I wanted to write some fluff and I did it.
I still feel like this isn´t my best work, maybe also because I´m beyond tired but I still have to go out later. Ugh. (Ugh not because I don´t wanna go out, bbut because I´m always tired. It´s annoying af)

I didn´t want to have time to proof read this, so please be gentle. 

p.s: Roomates going to be up either tomorrow or on sunday but I have to write the party and it´s hard because I´m trying to make it super fluffy and yet somehwo cool.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warning: fluff, angst

Length: 1463 Words

Originally posted by justaboutsupernatural


Are you Dean Winchester´s ex girlfriend?”
You looked up from your phone and stared at the girl that had just walked over from across the bar to ask you the question you hated most in the world.
She looked vaguely familiar, you had probably met her in a hunter´s bar before, maybe was someone´s daughter.
“That´s what my ID says”, you answered sarcastically and the girl tilted her head: “Seriously?”
You didn´t know what to say to something this stupid so you just made a gesture as if you were shooing a fly away and said: “Please, fuck off!”
The other girl looked pretty offended, but you couldn´t care less and just stared back at your phone, trying to concentrate on the newest case you had found online, but couldn´t.
You cursed that girl for bringing Dean up again and you cursed yourself for caring so much.
Even though you hadn´t seen Dean in months, he kept coming back into your life with dumb little bitches like that girl.
Of course you knew that Dean was some kind of celebrity in the hunter scene and you also knew that back in the days, when you still had been with Dean, you had become known around here too, but you had never imagined that one day people would start referring to you as Dean Winchester´s ex girlfriend.
It was humiliating, to say the least.
Especially since you tried everything to forget that you ever even knew Dean.
Which was hard, considering that you had been together with him for three years.
The breakup, aka the worst day of your life, flashed before your eyes again without you being able to do anything with it.

“You´re not actually doing this, are you?”, he shouted, staring at you angrily, balling his hands into fists at the side of his body.
You stuffed the rest of your stuff into your overloaded suitcase: “Dean, I just don´t see this happening anymore.”
“Why?”, he said, even louder than before and you closed the zipper and looked at him, feeling a little sad too, but you were over it already, had replayed this conversation in your head so many times that it felt like a dream.
“Are you really asking me why I do this?”, you asked, feeling exhausted.
“Of course I do. This is madness”, he gave back and you sighed: “That you don´t know why I have to do this, is part why I have to do this.”
He rolled his eyes: “You´re being ridiculous, just drop that suitcase and we can talk it out.”
“No, we can´t. We can´t because we never talk about anything, you never talk about anything.
Our relationship has gone from something special to something that feels like we´re ex college roommates who decided to live together after college and now have our own lives.
That´s ridiculous, not me.”
It felt right to say it out loud finally, the concern that had been on your mind for weeks now.
He frowned: “You want to talk? That´s what this is all about? That you want to talk?”
“Yes Dean, this is about me wanting to talk. I´m tired of you shutting me out because you feel like it, and I´m done”, you made your way to the door but he grabbed your wrist.
“Fine”, he said and you looked into his eyes, “let´s talk.”
You pulled your hand free and shook your head: “It´s too late, Dean.”

It had been almost two months after that breakup and you were regretting that step terribly.
At first it had felt right, like you were finally getting rid of something that dragged you down, but as the weeks rolled around, you started missing him more than you had thought you would.
You missed him when you were hunting, missed your partner that had always been there, you missed him when you were laughing about something he would have found funny too and you missed him when you went to bed alone every night.
Your glass was now empty, the stupid girl was gone and you pulled out some cash to pay the bartender before heading out into the cold October air.
While you zipped up your jacket, you thought about finding a case in California or anywhere else where it was a little warmer than in Maine.
It wasn´t far to the motel that you had decided to stay in and since you strictly were against drinking and driving you walked the short distance.
You tried thinking about something else, but your last words “It´s too late, Dean”, echoed trough your head.
It was pretty ironic that you had said them in the first place because you had tattooed: “It´s never too late”, on your left rib cage.

You thought about that a lot, about the fact that maybe, if you had given him the chance, he would have turned it around, but then again he probably wouldn´t have.
He wasn´t the kind of guy to change for a girl.
You arrived at the parking lot of the motel and scanned your pockets for the keys before you stopped dead in your tracks, getting the biggest shock of your entire life.
Right in front of you, only a few feet away from your door, stood a sixty-seven Impala and not just some Impala but Deans.
You would have recognized that car anywhere.
Quick, shallow breaths made it hard to focus on what you should do.
You couldn´t drive, not now that you had something to drink, so you would have had to hide out in your room.
Without thinking twice, you hurried towards your door and then again searched for the goddamn keys before you heard a voice behind you that let your blood freeze in your veins:
You didn´t turn around, didn´t need to. You knew who that was, you never knew a voice better than his.
“Dean”, you said and finally turned around, facing him.
He had changed, seemed older, more mature.
It was weird to see him because part of you really wanted to kiss him.
Instead you just stood there in the cold, hugging yourself and feeling like everything was going to explode.
“Are you working a case here?”, he asked you and put his hands in his pockets as if he was freezing too. You knew that this was his nervous-gesture.
“Yeah”, you said and the moment was filled with awkwardness.
“Uhm… Do you wanna come in or something?”, he asked and you knew that this was maybe your last chance to make this right ever.
And before you could think of something else, you nodded and he took a step back so you could slip past him into the motel room.
It was finally warm in here and you pulled off your jacket before standing in the middle of the room like an idiot, feeling like it would be too familiar if you would sit on the bed.
“So…”, you said. “So…”, he said and then smiled a bit, making you smile too.
“Wow, I´ve missed that smile”, he said bluntly and you frowned while keeping to smile.
He held up his hand: “Hey, you remember how you wanted to me to talk more? I practiced. Now I´m telling anyone everything.”
You knew that is was supposed to be a joke, but somehow it reminded you of why you shouldn´t be here and you shook your head:
“Dean, I´m tired. I should leave.”
But he moved in front of the door before you could reach it: “Wait!”
You stood very close to him now and your heart was beating fast because this was everything it wanted.
Just your head told a different story.
“Why?”, you whispered and he closed his eyes for a second, seeming like he had really practiced this for a long time.
“Because I want you back. Because I missed you so bad. Because I made a mistake. Because I know that back then, you had been the one walking away, but I had already left at that point.
Because I´m sorry. Because you belong to me. Because I love you.
Because… Just because.”
This felt silly, like something out of a romance novel and you felt like you should just leave right now, but the problem was that you didn´t want to.
Instead you leaned up and kissed him, just kissed him, plain and simple didn´t say anything, just let the moment speak for itself.
When it was over, your pulse was racing and you still felt like you made a huge mistake, but when he pulled you into a big hug and said: “Oh and because of that of course”, you knew that younger you had been right.
It really never was too late.

okay here are my plans for posting in the next few days (in case any of y’all care lol):

i’m gonna post more hamilton wallpapers tomorrow (probably the last for awhile unless y’all want more)

and then either saturday or sunday i’m going to post twenty one pilots wallpapers

and after that i’ll post the regular lyric wallpapers like i usually do

It says a lot about my willpower that this is heading to be the first week I’ve actually full on stuck to a calorie limit/healthy diet every day…. (if I haven’t lost any weight I will probably have a breakdown on Monday so heads up for that)
the weekend is a worry though, I’m working today tomorrow & Sunday and work makes me hangry. More than exercising does ffs 🙄 I can’t really meal plan cos I’m at Ryan’s (🙄🙄) so I’m not sure what I’ll eat yet.

Sorry, guys, I feel…terrible. I’ve had the third in a line of shitty days, and I’m pretty sure tomorrow is going to suck and probably Sunday too, and I’m actually glad I’m working all weekend, because at least that’s pretty straightforward and simple. Which is kind of fucked up.

And writing would probably actually make me feel better, since it did yesterday, but I’ve gotten stupidly bogged down in one crappy line of dialogue, and I can’t seem to make Nightingale sound like Nightingale instead of–oh, I don’t know. All the other characters I write. I feel like nothing I write is ever in character, it all just sounds like me.

…And I’m feeling sorry for myself, which–sorry! I’ll be better and writing again tomorrow, I just need the night to have a pity party, apparently. And if you can’t tell the internet, who can you tell? :P

Anyway, I wrote about fifty words, so I definitely didn’t make word count, and I’m not snippeting anything.

Stupid Cupid

Sam x Reader x Dean

A/N: This is a request from @livsly11 . Apparently I’m not capable of writing something short, so this will be probably a four parts series. Part 2 is almost ready so I hope to post the whole series within a week. I added some stuff here and there to make the whole story more believable because I think Dean wouldn’t easily do something like that to his brother. This is more of an introduction to the story and I hope to post part 2 tomorrow or on Sunday. I hope you like it. :)

I was wondering if you could do one where she is child hood friends with the Winchesters and later on dates Sam and lives in the bunker but Dean is always flirting, trying to get in her pants, kinda like Damon in the vampire diaries and later falls in love with Dean. And can Sam go on a hunt and dean and the reader kiss and maybe some smut for the first time while in the bunker alone. And Sam sees that she is in love with him but didn’t say anything and let’s them date in the end.Thanks

Originally posted by themegalosaurus

Sam Winchester was perfect.
You realized that the first time you saw him, at Bobby’s, when you were 12.

Sam Winchester was perfect. He was all your heart wanted.

He was your best friend, your shoulder, your anchor. He was everything you needed.

Dean Winchester wasn’t perfect.

He was all you didn’t want, until, one day, things changed. Suddenly the muscle beating inside your chest didn’t crave Sam anymore, it craved his brother.

Dean Winchester wasn’t perfect, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Growing up in a family of hunters wasn’t easy; you were forced to move around with them, to change school constantly, to be alone. 

You didn’t even had the time to make friends because, when the hunt was done, you would move away again. At one point you stopped trying; it was easier to be alone. In this way, you didn’t have to lie about your life or about your father’s job. You were alone and, even if you craved friends, even if you craved affection, it was okay. In a week you would be in a new town and would start over, for the hundredth time.

This was your life when you were twelve.

Things changed when you met the Winchesters.

Your dad was on a hunt and had left you at Bobby’s; it wasn’t the first time that had happened, but it was the first time that Sam and Dean were there at the same time.

Things changed and you weren’t alone anymore, you had Sam. You were the same age and shared the same ideas and the same passions, you shared the same wishes for the future. This helped to build your friendship.

You spent only a week there, but that was enough because in seven days you found what you had been looking for, a companion.

Things were different with Dean. You weren’t comfortable around him, not that you wanted to be near him anyway. He cared for his little brother, that was pretty clear, but other than that he was a mystery.

While some girls were attracted to that, the mystery and the bad boy attitude, you weren’t.

He had so much to offer, underneath his tough exterior, but you didn’t know that then, and you didn’t bother to look.

When your father came to pick you up, ready to move toward a new destination, your heart broke a little. You didn’t want to lose Sam, but you had to go.

He had to go.

That was your life.

You met again 2 years later, at a motel you were staying; it wasn’t the younger Winchester the one you saw first, though. It was Dean.

He looked different; the attitude and the mystery were still there, but he seemed to have gained even more confidence. That, plus his looks, was a great combo and you couldn’t deny that your heart accelerated a little when you saw him.

He was in the hallway, in front of a vending machine and you were discussing with yourself whether to go there and say something or shut up and go back to your room. That’s when Sam spotted you, “Y/N?”

That one was a good day. You talked for hours and you were glad to discover that the younger Winchester hadn’t changed; he was still like you. The most important thing, though, was that you were still friends; it didn’t seem to matter that you hadn’t seen each other in 2 years, and that was surely a nice feeling.

The next day they were gone and you were alone once more. But this time it was different because you were convinced that you were going to see them again and that things would still be the same that day.

You were right.

Over the years, you saw them a couple of times and every time things were always the same. You and Sam were still there for each other and Dean was… well, he was Dean.

He was a ladies’ man and he flirted with all of them, you included. He was always there with some sneaky remark, with his smiles and his green eyes. There was something magnetic about him, but you decided to stay away from that.

It’s true that 8 years had passed, but you were just the same and those guys with all that mystery around, those guys that didn’t talk about feelings just weren’t your type.

That is when you were sober.

Drunk you, on the other hand, saw things a little differently.

Your dad was gone and for the first time you were truly alone. You gave him a hunter’s funeral and then found a bar to drown your pain in some alcohol.

That wasn’t something you usually did but that day nothing mattered.

The Impala was parked in front of the bar, not that you had noticed it, and probably, if Sam had been there, things would have been different. But he wasn’t.

He was at Stanford and Dean was all alone, like you. That day you got to know him, for real. He was 24 and already so broken. All his confidence was just a mask, now it was so clear.

You spent the night together but no, no sex was involved. You wanted to, sure, but no matter how broken he felt, he would not take advantage of you.
Drunk as you were, every decision seemed good, but he was sure that you would have regretted it in the morning.

That night you just talked, for hours, and in the morning you didn’t remember a single word you had said. 

You didn’t know that that night you got into his heart.

You didn’t see him or Sam for many years, until one day you were on the same hunt. They were interrogating some witnesses in their FBI suits when you stepped foot on the crime scene.

Dean noticed you immediately, still remembering clearly the night you had spent together, and he smiled.

You saw none of that because your attention went to Sam. He was so tall, but he wasn’t intimidating at all. He was all grown up but his smile, his eyes, were the same, the same gentleness in them. He was perfect, as usual, and Dean’s smile died on his lips when he saw the way you were looking at his little brother. 

Not that he blamed you for it. He too thought that Sam was the good one, the perfect one, while he was just a waste of time.

He pretended not to care about the way you were flirting with each other, the way Sam would smile whenever you were around, the way his own heart ached a little at seeing that.

Dean craved things as well, he had desires and passions too, but he decided to ignore them, like he always had.

And he kept doing that until, suddenly, he couldn’t anymore.  

part 2

[3/100] - 2.2.2016 // So I got home from school not that long ago, finally. I wrote the test from economics, I managed to answer every single question so I am hoping in the best aka B or at least C nothing worse - hopefully. There was one exercise to calculate the loan that we were supposed to solve though and I went through it but we were also supposed to count the days so I messed up on that… but hopefully the answers for other questions will make up for that one exercise :)
I am making notes for surrealism now for my history of art class. I did that on Sunday too to prepare a bit for today (just because there was no test) but I want to continue and hopefully learn it properly, together with a couple of other art movements that follow.I have a test from English tomorrow but I am hoping I will ace it like I usually do, so I probably won’t spend too much time on that one.
Also this time Hoseok is keeping me company together with my elephant planner. Isn’t it cute.

How’s it all going for you? Make sure you drink and eat enough and also take breaks! 


A/N: I’m not sure how I feel about this fic…haha. I’m excited to write the next imagine because it’s going to be sad remand those are my favorite. I hope to have it up Friday or Sunday, I work all day tomorrow and Saturday so I probably won’t be able to write then. Anyway, leave some feedback!

Prompt: Hi! Well if it’s not too much of your time, I’d love a Bucky imagine in which the reader was taken in from the streets after learning they can control plants and so they just sit around with him, making flowers grow out of the cracks in the floor and making crowns for him when he’s upset? Sorry if this is too specific, please only do this if you have time- I love your blog though!

You walked through Central Park, smiling, softly. Your fingers grazed over the soft leaves of the plants that grew as you walked by. You’d recently developed your powers of controlling plants. It sounded and to you, at first, but it helped you appreciate the beauty in nature. Typically, you hid your powers, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, but you wanted so bad to be able to help the dying plants return.

“Ma'am,” you turned, hearing a male voice. You saw Captain America standing in front of you a soft smile on his lips. You could tell he’d just gotten done fighting. “We’re evacuating this part of town. Things may get ugly.”

You nodded, looking back to the plant you held. Taking a deep breath and gathering all the courage you had, you grew a small, blue, flower. You picked it, smelling it softly. “Okay, good luck, Cap,” you murmured to the giant hero. You handed him the flower and continued walking away.

You made it to another part of town, one that was clearly being attacked. Taking a deep breath, you began growing vines around the people behind you. Turning, you looked at the frightened people. The green sundress you wore blew in the breeze as the vines grew bigger. “Go,” you spoke, nodding away from the battle. You could hear people getting closer.

Turning back to the vines, you grew more, creating a wall. You tried to reinforce it, but the wall shattered, and a man stood in your way. His arm was metal and his hair hung in his face. He wore a mask that covered his mouth, glaring into your eyes, he stayed silent. Fear coursed through your veins. He reached over, effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder.

A sharp pain went into your leg and you knew he was sedating you. The last thing you saw was Captain America rounding the corner, throwing his shoulder at more soldiers.


You woke up, sitting in a cell, surrounded by dingy lights. The room was damp, dark and cold. The door was heavy metal and the only window was a small rectangle on the door. You noticed you were still wearing your sundress and your hair was ratty. You sighed, resting your head against the wall you sat by. Your head hurt.

“You’re awake.” You jumped at the gruff voice, turning your head to the left. The same man sat across the room. His shirt was removed as was the mask. You could see the metal arm was surgically implanted as scar tissue ran along the edge. His eyes looked weak as he took a deep breath. “What’s your name?”

You turned away from him, curling into the wall. You were confused. Wasn’t he just kidnapping you? Why was he in a cell? Questions swirled through your mind as you played with the fabric of your dress. “Y/N. What’s yours?”

The man scoffed, looking away. A shrug was his only answer for a while. After a period of silence, he took a deep breath. “I don’t know. They call me the Winter Soldier, but I don’t know my actual name.”

The weakness of his voice struck a chord. He couldn’t be a bad man with this tone of voice. You looked over at him, trying to see if he was telling the truth. His eyes held a broken and lost look, his shoulders were slumped as he stared at his hands. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “What should I call you?”

The man shrugged, again. He looked away. “I wish I knew.”

You crawled over to him, feeling bad. You sat so your back was against the wall and your shoulder was pressed next to his. “Want to see something?”

The man gave you a questioning look, but you only tucked your legs under yourself and focused your energy on the crack next to his leg. It was harder for you to grow things in a condensed area, but the moisture helped. A small green sprout popped out from the concrete. The man next to you let out a small gasp as he watched you grow a small rose. You picked it, slowly handing it to him.

You smiled as he curiously inspected the flower. “It’s not going to hurt you.”

The man let out a small bark of a chuckle, looking at you. “It’s interesting.”

The door to your cell started to open, the door knob echoing around the cell. The man stood up and stood in front of you, blocking you view from the door. The door opened and two men walked into the room, roughly grabbing the man you were with.

“We need you for another mission,” the one who gripped the man’s metal arm spoke, roughly.

They dragged him out of the room as he fought. The door slammed roughly behind them as the room echoed with silence.

You focused on creating more flowers and vines to pass the time. You weaved the beaches together, inserting flowers here and there, working hard to weave the right crown.


The man returned, a day or so later, bruised and broken. His eyes held an air of confusion and guilt. He sat down next to you, silently at first. You could tell he was trying to work something out in his head with the way his eyebrows kept furrowing. “What happened,” you whispered, bumping his shoulder.

“I was fighting a man, he knew me. He called me Bucky and he seemed confused.” The man turned to you, upset. “How would he know me? I don’t know myself.”

You grew uncertain of how to answer the clearly hurting man. “Look, pokey, I don’t know who it is your talking about, but maybe he does know you. You haven’t been here your entire life, so maybe he’s the key to figuring out who you really are.” You poked his chest, smiling softly. “Just because he knew your name doesn’t mean he knows you.”

Bucky looked down, still confused. “Did you call me pokey?”

You nodded, turning to your side to grab the crown you made, you set it on his head. “You seem really rough around the edges, but I think when you open up, you could be a wonderful person. Kind of like a rose with its pokey stem.”

Bucky nodded, sitting back against the wall. He took in your dirty and tired appearance. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I’d be better if I was home, but no, I don’t need anything. Probably a shower.”

Bucky looked towards the door, sadly. He didn’t say very much for the rest of the night, just told you to get some sleep.


The next day, you woke up in a different room. Your arms were chained behind your back and your legs were handcuffed to the legs of the chair you sat in. You took a deep breath to try and calm yourself.

“Good, you’re awake.”

You looked up to see a man with curly hair and glasses. He was older, wore a suit, and held a cold smile on his wrinkled face. You held eye contact, trying to hide the fear you felt coursing through your veins. “Where am I?”

The man pulled up a chair and sat in front of you. “The interrogation room. I’m here to ask you a few questions about yourself. Are you ready?”

You nodded, staring into his eyes. Your ratty hair hung like a curtain over your cheeks. “Okay.”

“What’s your name?”

You relaxed a little at the easy start. “Y/N.”

The man nodded, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a nice name. Where are you from, Y/N?”

You looked around, still nervous. “I’m from Y/C, but I live in New York.”

Once again, he nodded. He crossed his arms, pondering his next question. “How did you get your abilities?”

You shrugged. “I was walking through a forest and a flower bud opened up. Something spilled out and burned my arm. There’s still a scar. I woke up the next day with plants all around me.”

The man shook his head. His smile and all traces of his false kindness were gone. He reached his hand back and whipped it at your face. Your head turned at the impact his hand hit your cheek. “I don’t believe you,” he spoke furiously, leaning down to glare at you. “Did the Avengers have anything to do with it?”

You looked up at him, helplessly. “I don’t know, what you mean.”

The man slapped you again, this time your mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood. Tears filled your eyes as he roughly grabbed your chin and turned it back towards him. At this point, you’d rather be in the cell with Bucky. “Did they give you your powers?”

You shook your head. “No! I’ve never met them!”

The man slapped you again, shaking his head. “Fine,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead and standing back. “We’ll go to different questions. How long have you had them?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, about a year?”

The man nodded, still running his forehead. “Did anyone ever try to test your powers?”

You shook your head. “No one knows about them. I don’t go around showing it off.”

His hand came to contact with your face, yet again, pushing blood out of your nose. You spit the blood that collected in your mouth, out onto the concrete. “Don’t mouth off to me, girl.”

He took a step back, looking to the guards. He mumbled something to them and stormed out of the room. A guard walked up to you a menacing grin on his face. “Oh, we’re going to have fun.” The last thing you remember was his hand hitting your head.


You woke up, hours later, still in the chair. A hand gently rested on your shoulder as something cold cupped your cheek. “Y/N.”

Your eyes opened, more, showing you Bucky’s worried eyes. “Pokey,” you mumbled, sleepily. “What’s going on?”

You felt his hands move and yours become free. Soon, he unlocked your legs and held you up. You noticed he had put the crown you made him on your stomach as he carried you out of the room.

As the two of you walked down the hall, you could see red lights illuminating the hallway. Injured guards lay on the ground. “What’s going on, pokey?” Your voice took a more panicked tone.

“I’m taking you to safety,” he murmured, pausing to kiss your forehead.

After hours of walking, you were in front of a large tower. Bucky walked in, nervously. Before you slipped into unconsciousness, however, you could see Captain America running down the steps.

“Steve,” Bucky nervously whispered.

“Bucky,” Cap breathed.


Promo for Tony Goldwyn on Who Do You Think You Are? airing Sunday April 5th at 10pm ET on TLC [x]


My gamer Peridot cosplay, featuring Robezpierre as Pearl. Gotta make some gloves, respray the wig and put on some shoes, but this is pretty much done. 

My Lapis is probably not going to make it to Sacanime, sadly; health stuff. But I will be there, and I will be Peridot on Saturday. Sunday is Mightily Oats and Friday is Pyro.