vice-admiral-vergo

I Have Questions

I can’t quite process the thought of Camila being this broken a year ago and she still managed to smile and being so good to fans. And then get up on stage and sing and dance and give her all because she loved/loves the group and US so much. That’s so inspirational, she’s such a great and strong person and artist.

I Need Coffee in an I.V.

Summary

Bucky points at the counter, pouting. “They took my coffee maker.”

Steve looks like he wants to laugh, but Bucky thinks he does an admirable job of biting it back.

“Good god, how ever will you survive?” Steve asks, and Bucky usually kind of adores that sassy mouth of Steve’s, but he doesn’t fuck around when it comes to his coffee.

In which the office coffee maker breaks and Bucky is forced to rely on the kindness of an unknown coworker.

You can also read it here.

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DEAR SAM WINCHESTER,

You are the light of my life and I love you so much I named myself after you.  You do not deserve any of the bad things that happen to you because you are a selfless, brave, wonderful man and you deserve so much love and happiness.  I relate to you on so many levels it’s kind of scary and if you were a real person I would probably be in love with you though I’d be happy just to be your friend.  I wish I could give you lots of hugs and tell you how valuable and loved you are and buy you new flannels and send you pictures of cute dogs when you’re sad but since I can not, this letter will have to suffice. I love you and hope you have a great day.

via @ifeelsinister 

Roses are Red - Dave Silk

Originally posted by eichelj

Really, Tumblr? No GIFs of Silky? If someone could do that, it would be so appreciated. Please and thank you.

-

You hummed and walked through the snowy streets of Lake Placid to the rink, bag of brushes and rollers hung over your shoulder. Your hometown always looked beautiful around this time of year. Covered in snow and ice, yet still so beautiful. Everyone in town was working today, it seemed. Many of the local shops and stores were open already even if it was only about 7:00 in the morning. Then again, the Olympics and all of the teams which your hometown have been eagerly awaiting had finally arrived, so you completely understood. 

Yes, somehow the IOC chose Lake Placid to host the games that year over some other city in the States or even in Canada, but you were ecstatic over this. Something huge was finally happening! When the announcement was made, the entire town seemed to already start planning.

You didn’t completely believe it at first when the mayor called and asked you to create a mural for the games. A freaking mural at the rink for the Games. He said he’d chosen you since you would be home for winter break and would have the time and since you also went to university not too far away. He also noted references from your art teacher and people in the community who had seen your works at student showcases or local festivals, all of which were met with praise of some sort. Who were you to deny the mayor and not do something for the Games?

You’d worked on the mural for months now and it was nearly done. Thank God the only people who went in were the teams who were just practicing and some journalists. No actual spectators yet besides a few fans who went in hoping to see the American team who had been here for a couple days now as athletes were allowed in to practice.

You arrived at the ice rink and used the key the owner had given you to go in and work on the finishing touches which would only take a few days which was good as the games would be starting in a week. It felt so exciting by also kind of terrifying that people from around the globe would be viewing your work. You walked in and shut the door behind you, keeping the cold air trapped outside where it belonged. You stomped the snow and slush from your boots, took off your cap, and undid your scarf. It was warmer in this area of the building compared to outside.

You sighed happily, taking a sip of the coffee in your thermos and heading to your painting space, the ladder still up and tarp still down from yesterday. You smiled and got to work quickly, painting little details every here and there and touching up on other places like adding white paint in certain spots to make the ribbons and banners or the blades of a skate shine, adding little stars to uniforms for American players to make it even more patriotic, and the like. It had to be like how your sketch in your book showed.

As time passed on, you began to hear sounds coming from an open hallway that led to the inside arena and the ice. The sounds of skates, of shouts, and of wooden sticks meeting pucks and ice. You smiled to yourself and looked at the clock. You’d been working for over an hour and a half now. That ought to deserve at least a small break. You put down your brush and walked over to the hallway, gazing at the sight below.

It was the Americans right now and it seemed like they had just started practicing their skating drills. You watched silently and smiled. They were good and around your age, what more could you say? You hadn’t seen any of them, though, but a few friends who had told you that they were pretty good looking and nice based off of their own encounters. You watched for a few more minutes in silence before heading back to the space to paint.

Before long, it was your lunch break so you left the space and went back home for a bit to get some food. You were gone for only about half an hour before you got back and went back to paint. Everything seemed okay until-

“Wait… What is that?” you mumbled. “What is that?”

You walked over to your ladder to find a beautiful pink and white carnation had been placed on one of the upper rungs of the ladder. You carefully picked it up off the rung and examined it. You looked around and saw no one, hearing no more movement from the hallway and rink. There was no note either.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. “I have a secret admirer, don’t I?”

You set the flower down carefully into your bag and got back to work. Once work ended for the day, you went home and carefully placed the carnation into a vase of water, keeping it close to your bedside and admiring its beauty. You tried thinking in your head, but no one came to mind who would do something like this. No one that you knew at least.

Over the next few days, more flowers came to your painter space. In order, a daffodil the next day, then a pink chrysanthemum, then a stem full of white and light pink sweet pea. You tried asking the owner of the local flower shop for help, but unfortunately she could not release client information unless to an official. You grew beyond curious by this point and your last day working on the mural was tomorrow. Maybe you would catch him.

Finally on your last day, you took your break, hurried home, which was merely only less than ten minutes away, grabbed your lunch, and hurried right back. He had already visited somehow. You had been gone for about 20 minutes and he had already left the flower. There, sat upon a rung, was a white lily there, perfect in the lights of the hall. You walked over, feeling as though this mysterious gentleman of yours would keep being a mystery since today was the day you were finishing anyways and the deadline for the mural as the Games themselves began in only 2 days. You felt more than just sad about that.

That was until you heard the flutter of a paper on the cement floor.

You looked down and saw a piece of folded paper beneath you from where you stood. You carefully knelt down and picked it up to read it.

‘If you want to know who I am, meet me in front of the rink tonight at 5.’ Was carefully written in ink on the paper’s surface. 

You folded it back up and bit your lip. Should you? You wanted to know and he couldn’t be bad if he was sweet enough to do this for you, right?

You decided you would.

A few hours later, you found yourself walking back to the rink, hands shaking and not due to the cold. You were nervous, to say the least? Would he be cute? Was he funny? Was he sweet? Was this all some kind of sick joke? There were many possible answers to this, none of which you had answers to just yet.

You arrived at the building and looked around, finding no one. You sighed and started to fear that it really was just a joke, but you held on and opted to wait rather than head home, admiring the snow-covered trees as you did so until-

“Hello?”

You looked over to see a tall young man standing there. He was dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt with a jacket over it, and sneakers. He was very handsome, too. You weren’t going to deny it. Shining eyes, soft-looking brown hair which was well combed, and a small smile. Then you noticed the rose in his hands.

“H-Hi.” you said. “Are you… you’re the guy, aren’t you? The one who’s been leaving me flowers all week.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s me. Got the idea from my teammate, Buzzy. I’m David, by the way. David Silk. You can just call me Dave. I play for the hockey team.”

You blushed. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Dave. I’m (Y/N). It’s really nice to meet you. You’re really sweet, you know that? Sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

His smile grew wider. “Yeah? I find that hard to believe. A girl like you. You’re so talented and everything. Oh, this is for you by the way.” he said, handing the rose over to you. You carefully took it, admiring the petals and how beautiful it was. Completely red and unblemished with the thorns snipped off to not prick your fingers.

“Thank you.” You looked up to see him with a blush on his cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was from the cold or not. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. I wanted to do it… So, I was… I was wondering if maybe you would like to go out with me on a date tonight.”

You widened your eyes. An Olympian was asking you on a date. Tonight. Like, probably now tonight. “Tonight?”

“Yeah.” he said. “Y-you don’t have to. I just… It’s your choice. I’m not forcing you to do it if you don’t want to do-”

“Yes.”

He looked at you surprised. “Yes? As in like… You will?”

You nodded and smiled. “Yeah. I will. I’m not doing anything tonight. And I know a couple good places around here. It is home after all. So, yeah. I would love to.”

He grinned. “That sounds great. Do you mind if we go now? I kinda have a curfew and, if I stay out late, Herb is going to kill me.”

“It’s okay.” you smiled, using a free hand to take one of his. “Come on. I know a good diner around here. Good for a firstie.”

He nodded, holding your hand, smile still fond and warm even in the cold evening air. “Lead the way, miss.”