making a concerted effort to go out & hang out with friends more/meet more people, and it went well last night! wandered the boston common, saw some gay swans, made a new friend whose name i cannot at all remember. the only thing is that i forgot restaurants on boylston street will still charge $12 for a cocktail that barely has any alcohol content
its 8 o'clock on a summer day. thursday morning in fact. (post cryo) bucky hums to himself as he’s making french toast. as steve rounds a corner, he overhears. he knows this tune, they danced to it once - feet shuffling around on tenement floors. the worn sofa, the stacks of books - things relocated, music streaming through the radio. an open window in the heat of summer, the sound of new york traffic. they’d continued to sway long after the song ended; bucky smiling through kisses and singing off key.
(life was easier then, bright as the sun)
after, they’d eaten mediocre biscuits for dinner with a jar of homemade jam from an upstairs neighbor. steve remembers bucky wiping a smudge from the corner of his mouth and how it led to more for the first time. he recalls how emerging hours later to find that they’d forgotten to clean the kitchen. dirty dishes, sticky jam on the table, buckys jacket carelessly tossed on the back of the sofa; scenes from a life.
upon hearing this familiar tune it’s 1935 again and everything is right with the world. only…it isn’t. steve’s eyes begin to fill up with tears, bucky cannot know this. there’s a very slim chance of him actually remembering why the song stuck with him anyway. as such, steve throws a “going for a run, be back soon” over his shoulder and doesn’t wait for bucky to respond before he leaves. the last thing bucky needs is guilt that isn’t his to carry.
he returns some 3hrs later to find a plate of cold buttered toast lightly spread with blackberry jam waiting. the minute he steps through the door, it is thrust into his palms. buckys face lights up like a million starlights lighting the way home.
“you had jam….right,” he brushes a thumb along the outer left crease of steves lip. “…here.”
the sensation gives steve goosebumps; a long dormant sensory memory. bucky takes the plate before steve has a chance to eat the food. a prop then, a quiet unspoken way of saying, “I remember us.”
god, it hurts so good.
steve can feel the shift, the bridge lowering. the fog lifting from buckys eyes, the unoccupied metallic hand curling around his wrist; gentle. he is always so gentle.
steve closes his eyes, takes and breath and counts to ten. of all the things he has missed when it comes to bucky, casual stolen intimacy is the hardest. he misses kissing, skin to skin contact, misses tracing the shadows and angles of buckys body. seventy + years is a long time.
“why didn’t you tell me?,” bucky questions. his voice comes out hushed, cautious.
it’s hard, this. “you were wearing those ridiculous oven mitts that nat bought us last christmas and humming. you were burning the french toast in this kitchen, our kitchen. and I couldn’t, buck. I couldn’t take that from you.”
bucky scoffs, shaking his head. “I was humming it ‘cause I was hoping *you* would recognize it but I didn’t want to push in case you and carter were…you know. a couple. if…I’m wrong about her, I want this steve and I don’t want much in this life. heaven knows I never have. but it’s…you.”
steve takes both of buckys hands in his own. if steve could see himself he’s sure he’d recognize soft blue eyes from another life, staring back at a wide eyed bucky. he’d recognize that look.
“am I too late?,” he whispers.
“late? by seventy years, yes. too late? no such thing pal, not here. not with you.”
steve steps forward, dropping his head on buckys chest. it’s warm and solid, bucky is alive. this is real. it’s not the product of a fevered grief stricken nightmare, a ghost sent to taunt him with notions of what he could never have.
“dance with me?”
buckys face splits into a wide grin that takes steve back to brooklyn, 1927. a sketchbook and bullies, buckys nine year old fists. home.
“thought you’d never ask.”
bucky takes steve in his arms and begins to hum.
there will be thousands of kisses, each one different from the last but for now there’s a dance that’s been 70+ years in the making.
'Bootstrap’ Bill Turner: My son… William! He’s alive! Will’s alive! He survived the Kraken, me boy, and he’s sent you to tell me he’s coming to save me! God’s wounds, he’s on his way!
Elizabeth Swann: Yes, Will is alive. And he wants to help you.
'Bootstrap’ Bill Turner: He can’t help me. He won’t come. I know you. He spoke of you. He won’t save me, he can’t come because of you!
Elizabeth Swann: Because of ME?
'Bootstrap’ Bill Turner: You’re Elizabeth. He who stabs the heart of the Captain must take over as Captain. Dutchman must always have a captain. And if he saves me, he loses you. He won’t pick me - I wouldn’t pick me! Tell him not to come. Tell him to stay away. Tell him it’s too late. I’m part of the ship… part of the ship, part of the crew…
Elizabeth Swann: Bootstrap…
'Bootstrap’ Bill Turner: You know my name… my son, he’s coming to save me. You wait and see…
Ok this episode of critical role has actually been killing me because I realized something.
“I’ve known a lot of people with money, and they are definitely not worth you.”
Percy is stating that even if he has feelings for Vex, she doesn’t deserve him, she doesn’t deserve the man who almost killed her. That he is inferior to her in every way.
And this layers on his disbelief that she’s forgiven him for the accident, because it still weighs greatly on him. He feels that because of those actions, it doesn’t matter how he feels about her, he’s a horrible person that doesn’t deserve a girl like her.
The undertones of the sentence is so powerful it makes me want to c r y.
The way he structured the sentence is beautiful, as a longtime writer, this is a beautiful sentence you can only dream of for their level of relation ship and I-
Can’t stop thinking about it…
It’s ruining my life…
Chihiro: Haku, listen. I just remembered something from a long time ago, I think it may help you. Once, when I was little, I dropped my shoe into a river. When I tried to get it back I fell in. I thought I’d drown but the water carried me to shore. It finally came back to me. The river’s name was the Kahaku river. I think that was you, and your real name is Kahaku river.
Haku: You did it, Chihiro! I remember! I was the spirit of the Kahaku river.
Chihiro: A river spirit?
Haku: My name is the Kahaku river.
Chihiro: They filled in that river, it’s all apartments now.
Haku: That must be why I can’t find my way home, Chihiro, I remember you falling into the river, and I remember your little pink shoe.
Chihiro: So, you’re the one who carried me back to shallow water, you saved me… I knew you were good!
I’ve wanted my Louden Swain tattoo for so long but I really wanted it done in Rob’s handwriting, so I’ve been waiting to ask him. And, on Thursday, I finally did.
I wasn’t planning on getting it done so soon i needed to save money for it but my Vegas roommates convinced me to! So, Thursday night, before the Louden Swain show, I got this tattoo done and I am so in love with it.
The next day, I split a Rob photo with Angie because she wanted to see Rob’s reaction when I showed it to him and oh gosh it was amazing. I told him that I got it and he looked so excited. He asked if he could see it and then was amazed when it was actually written exactly how he wrote it and was pointing out to Chris that it was his handwriting. Then he asked if it was okay if he took a picture of it on his phone which I said yes to. He also asked me whether it hurt and the next couple of times I spoke to him he would ask if it was hurting me and he called me amazing :’)). He was so sweet and this really just made Vegas such an unforgettable weekend.
I’m so happy :’) I can’t stop staring at my tattoo. I just can’t believe I finally have it.