when i was brought low


Summary:  Bucky is having a bad day.  The reader tries to cheer him up.

Originally posted by unlucky--bucky

“Come on, Bucky! Smile!”  I begged.  

Nothing.  No response.  He just continued to stare out the window at the snow falling outside. Far below us, on the streets of New York, people rush from shop to shop, shopping for the holidays.  Christmas was less than a month away, after all.  

Shifting my weight, I tried to catch a glimpse of Bucky’s face.  His eyes stared blankly ahead, not seeing anything.  I sighed.

I couldn’t tell what was going through his head but I had a pretty good idea of what it could be.  Christmas had been hard the past couple of years for Bucky.  He had celebrated it with Steve and I, but there was something in his eyes, like he expected it to all disappear.  He had teared up a little bit when he unwrapped his presents from us, though Steve and I pretended not to notice.  He had been shy about the presents he had for us, but they were perfect – a stack of letters for each of us, containing his fondest memories of us. I didn’t bother hiding my tears when I realized what he had given me and neither did Steve.  We had ended up in a group hug, which Bucky was very apprehensive about.  He had held me so carefully with his metal arm, cautious of his strength.

This Christmas, I was determined that Bucky be in a good mood.  He may have lost a lot and suffered through terrible pain in his life, but everything was different now.  He had a family again, in me and Steve.  He had a home and a bed where he could rest at night without being afraid of what would come for him if he let his guard down for a while.  The realization of how lucky we were to have Bucky in our lives at all made a lump appear in my throat.

I cleared my throat and scooted closer to him, pressing my side against his.  I felt him tense, but ignored it.

“You know,” I started, keeping my voice low.  “When we first brought you here?  Steve was so ecstatic just to have you safe in the same room as him, I don’t think he would have cared if you went turned back into the Winter Soldier, as long as you were with him.”  I took a deep breath.  “It scared the living daylights out of me.  Steve and I have been close ever since he saved me from Hydra.  I didn’t want to lose him.”

I felt more than saw Bucky turn his head to look down at me, but I ignored this too and kept talking.

“I had heard stories of what you were like before.  From Steve, of course.  It seemed like you were all we talked about.  So when I met you, I thought I knew what to expect.  Boy, was I wrong!”  I laughed and peeked at his face, catching the small smile on his face.  A moment later, I turned serious again.  “You were so…broken.  It nearly broke my heart to see you that way and I watched it almost kill Steve, thinking he couldn’t help you.”

Bucky was looking out the window again, but I could tell he was thinking about my words.  I smiled slightly and reached out a hand to touch his arm.  He turned to look at me.

“Look at how far you’ve come, Bucky.  You grow stronger every day.  I’m so proud of you.  I know Steve is proud of you.  After everything you’ve gone through…I don’t think I’ll ever get over how amazing you are.”

I was getting choked up again, but I kept going, wanting Bucky to realize how much I meant what I said.

“I will always be your family, Bucky.  Steve will always be your best friend.  We will never give up on you, no matter what happens.  Because we believe in you.”

He didn’t say a word, but he smiled and pulled me closer, tucking me under his arm.  We sat and watched the snow drift past the window, content to just sit and know we had each other.

Author’s Note:  This is for @ursulaismymiddlename, because she’s having a bad day.  I’ve always admired your writing from afar and I think you’re great.

Mobile Masterlist

bareb-bones  asked:

26 or 38 for newtina?

well hold me fast, hold me fast, 

because I’m a hopeless wanderer 

Newt is surprisingly…tactile, more so than Tina might’ve guessed when she first met him, those madcap, wondrous, terrifying days in New York, when thunderbirds and Obscurials roamed and she caught a glimpse of something huge and glowing and otherworldly over the sky. Then he was quietly and resolutely hands off, at least with other human people. With his beasts he was gentle and tactile and affectionate, stroking the snouts of creatures who could take off his whole arm if they wished it.

It takes three years for him to touch her with anything besides extreme carefulness and gentleness, and it takes Tina four years for her to realize that it isn’t distaste for human contact that leads him to do this; it’s a way of respecting her space and autonomy. (It may also have to do with the fact that she’s prickly and cautious with anything resembling sentiment, unless it regards her sister, but alright. She can get used to it.) 

Now, in a small cottage in Provence (she can’t get over that, an cottage in Provence, where lavender fields stretch out before her like oceans of gentle purple), she stands at the tiny, antiquated stove (no different than the one in her own apartment back in New York), and makes tea, the old fashioned way, because Newt is a ridiculous man who insist it just tastes better if it’s made without magic. It’s mid-morning and the whole air is golden and mellow like honey dripping down from the cone onto cream, and she’s unusually loose-limbed and relaxed, her robe just barely tied. Her feet are bare and her hair loose, clean but uncombed. 

She’s concentrating on making eggs too, scrambled with a dash of pepper like how she likes, when a tall, warm body makes its presence known to her from behind, strong arms wrap around her waist and an unshaved, rough chin nuzzles the side of her neck and the underside of her jaw. 

“Hi,” she says softly, not wanting to break the atmosphere of slow, pooling sweetness. 

“Good morning my dear,” says Newt softly and his voice is an octave lower than usual from sleep and something shivers in Tina’s belly, a memory from the night before and other nights, when Newt’s voice dipped low and lovely. “You could’ve woken me, I would’ve brought you breakfast.”

Tina cuts him an unimpressed look over her shoulder, he smiles sweetly, unrepentantly in response. “Nice try, mister,” she says dryly. 

“Well, I am unafraid of toil, you know,” he says seriously. “And getting you to stay in bed for a period longer than the average night’s sleep is most certainly one of the nicest ways of toil I know.”

“Sweet talker,” says Tina, amused despite herself. “But I was hungry and didn’t feel like waiting for you to haul your lazy bones out of bed.”

“Now, now, love,” he protests gently, tugging her closer, nuzzling her cheek like an affection leopard. “Laziness? After all my efforts to give you a pleasant holiday? I shall have to try harder.”

Tina rolls her eyes, stirs the eggs to keep them from burning. “Lord help us all.”

“Mhmm,” agrees Newt distractedly, clearly not paying attention any more, because he’s focusing on undoing the admittedly uninspired knot that holds her robe together. “Definitely shall have to redouble my efforts.”

“Not before my breakfast,” Tina says, trying to inject a measure of firmness into her voice, but it’s easy, in this mellow, golden light, to push the eggs off the heat and turn, easy to let him lift her on the battered table and tug the robe away and her nightgown up past her knees, her thighs and then, her waist. It’s easy to curl her hands in his hair and sigh into his mouth, pliant and sun-warmed, as contented as a cat in sunshine, let him murmur roughly into her mouth, dear, darling, love.    

Our God is Love.
“The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the unwary; when I was brought low, he saved me. Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. For you, Lord, have delivered me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling,”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭116:5-8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

forget-it-i-give-up  asked:

"The cords of death entangled me, the anguish of the grave came over me; I was overcome by distress and sorrow. Then I called on the name of the Lord: 'Lord, save me!' The Lord is gracious and righteous; our God is full of compassion. The Lord protects the unwary; when I was brought low, he saved me. Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you." - Psalm 116:3-7 This is another Psalm where the entire thing is comforting, so if you get a chance read the rest of it.

Thank you so much fren 💜💜💜

I honestly ship Scott with every single person ever. It’s and actual problem. Scott’s just such an amazing cupcake I just want everyone to be able to enjoy him. Is there not enough Scott to go around?

Scydia would be so hot and passionate
Scallison was so beautiful and perfect
Scira is so adorable omg
Sciles would be so amazing
Scalia looks so good together I can tell they would be great

(when they first brought Malia in I low key thought she was gunnu be his new live interest)

Scerek, sciam, scisaac the list goes on and on

In support of Benedict & Sophie

On November 5th 2014 Benedict Cumberbatch announced his engagement to theatre director Sophie Hunter and since that date the amount of cruel posts and hate blogs that have been created about Sophie is appalling and uncalled for. These hate blogs represent a dark side of Benedict’s fandom, which is tarring us all in a hateful light, and it’s really unnecessary. If you dislike Sophie (for whatever reason that may be) then okay, but do you really need to be so nasty online about her? Do you really need to spread rumours and acquisitions about her? The answer is no.

Benedict Cumberbatch has found the woman he wants to make his wife, the woman who’ll be the mother of his child and the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with and it really is none of our business about the goings on of their relationship. Benedict is an insanely popular and famous man and he really goes out of his way for his fans. He attends as many events as he possibly can and always tries to chat to his fans and sign autographs and take selfies when he can. Remember last year when he stayed on late at the Australian Comic Con because he didn’t want to disappoint fans that had come to meet him? Benedict thinks very highly of his fanbase and often refers to us as intelligent, ambitious and courteous people with a smile on his face when interviewers talk about us. Hell, he didn’t even like us calling ourselves ‘cumberbitches’ because he thought it was an insulting name for us! Benedict loves us and we love him and writing hate about the woman he loves is hurting him. What if Benedict finds it? What if he reads it? What if after reading it he doesn’t want to associate with us anymore? Is that what you want?

The next time you go to write a hateful tweet or blog post just think “what if Benedict saw this?” Writing hate about Sophie Hunter isn’t right, writing hate about anyone isn’t right. How would you feel if you were in a relationship with someone, someone you really cared about and there was Twitter/Tumblr pages dedicated to calling your relationship a sham and hating on your bf/gf? You’d be outraged, upset and absolutely disgusted. And so would Benedict if he saw what’s out there online.

Benedict Cumberbatch means a lot to me, I discovered his work at a time when I was really low and he brought me out of a horrible place in my life. I feel like I owe him a lot and to see him happy and in love with a child on the way fills my heart with joy because he deserves it, he really really does. He deserves all the great things in life and he has found happiness in Sophie Hunter.

You don’t have to love the fact he’s in a relationship but if you care or respect him at all please at least don’t hate on it. Think about what you’re saying before you post it.

Thank you.

Psalm 116:1-9

I love the Lord, because he has heard
    my voice and my pleas for mercy.
Because he inclined his ear to me,
    therefore I will call on him as long as I live.
The snares of death encompassed me;
    the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me;
    I suffered distress and anguish.
Then I called on the name of the Lord:
    “O Lord, I pray, deliver my soul!”

Gracious is the Lord, and righteous;
    our God is merciful.
The Lord preserves the simple;
    when I was brought low, he saved me.
Return, O my soul, to your rest;
    for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.

For you have delivered my soul from death,
    my eyes from tears,
    my feet from stumbling;
I will walk before the Lord
    in the land of the living.

I love the Lord, because he has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy. Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live. The snares of death encompassed me; the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me; I suffered distress and anguish. Then I called on the name of the Lord: “O Lord, I pray, deliver my soul!” Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; our God is merciful. The Lord preserves the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me. Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you. For you have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling; I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living. I believed, even when I spoke: “I am greatly afflicted”; I said in my alarm, “All mankind are liars.” What shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits to me? I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord, I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints. O Lord, I am your servant; I am your servant, the son of your maidservant. You have loosed my bonds. I will offer to you the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the Lord. I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people, in the courts of the house of the Lord, in your midst, O Jerusalem. Praise the Lord!
—  Psalm 116

Psalm 116:5-9 (NIV)
The Lord is gracious and righteous;
   our God is full of compassion.
The Lord protects the unwary;
   when I was brought low, he saved me.
Return to your rest, my soul,
   for the Lord has been good to you.
For you, Lord, have delivered me from death,
   my eyes from tears,
   my feet from stumbling,
that I may walk before the Lord
   in the land of the living.