without a parachute

i miss the nights spent with you half-drunk and slurring vulgarities, telling me secrets that shouldn’t have come anywhere near your lips. those times felt a little like flying and a little like falling, like skydiving without a parachute that you never really wanted anyways.

i can’t stop soaking my mind in the compliments, even if they were backhanded, or lies, or more about my body than they were me. attention for the right reasons packed its bag and left long ago; love without lust isn’t something to be expected here.

nine months ago i told you to stop getting high and i’m beginning to see that i am more hypocritical now than ever, that i’m smoking our memories and floating ten feet above the ground.

i can’t tell the difference between my heartbeat and a heartbreak and i’m pretty sure it’s because of you.

(it’s definitely because of you.)

—  withdrawal symptoms (catherine w // sempiternalwriting)
Hetalia Humor
  • America: Sees ghosts and is best buds with an alien
  • England: Sees fairies and unicorns
  • China: Sees dragons and will fight them
  • Russia: Stays drunk and jumps from planes without a parachute
  • Canada: Communicates with polar bears
  • Germany: will talk to tree branches when left alone too long
  • Norway: Thinks he can perform magic and talk to trolls
  • Romania: Thinks he is a vampire
  • Finland: Thinks he is Santa Claus
  • Sealand: Thinks he is a country
  • World: Is crazy

So, what I want to talk about in regard to the moment above is why can’t Steve lift it? Why can he only move it slightly? This is my theory;

We all know Steve Rogers is the epitome of a good human, the best. No flaws. All strengths. But if you like I love to look between the lines, behind the smiles and masks, you’ll also know him as an incredible sad, broken human being who has lost everything and still is expected to soldier on.

Now, a few days ago I read an amazing meta on Steve Rogers and his suicidal tendencies; crashing the plane, jumping about twenty stores out of building and down in another with a shield as his only protection, jumping out of a plane without parachute (a thing that is insinuated to be reoccurring ‘Did he just jump without a parachute?’ ‘Hehe, yeah’), dropping his shield and not fighting back when he fought with Bucky, there is nothing that makes him happy (’What makes you happy?’ ’I don’t know’). There are countless of other incidents but right now I can’t remember them. The important thing to take from this is that Steve Rogers, the grand Captain America, is depressed, suicidal and so guilt ridden over what happened to Bucky (and knowing Steve, he probably blames him self for hurting Peggy over and over, when she rediscovers he’s alive ’It’s been so long, so long’ too).

But he is still Steve Rogers, he is still an amazing person with principles, he never bends. His morale isn’t compromised like Natasha’s is. He doesn’t fight for his country, he fights for its people and for freedom. For what’s right. If anyone is worthy of wielding Thor’s mighty hammer, it is Steve; the sickly, little kid from Brooklyn who were to dumb not to run away from a fight.

So why can’t he lift, why can he only move it slightly? Because Steve Rogers is depressed, because he blames him self for every bad thing in this world, that he maybe could have prevented if he had powers like Superman, because Steve Rogers doesn’t believe he is worthy and certainly not of lifting the hammer of a god. And I believe that not only do you have to be worthy, you have to deem your self worthy of lifting Mjolnir. And Steve doesn’t see what we see, he doesn’t see his amazing gifts; he sees all his mistakes, he sees Bucky falling and the destruction of both New York and DC hears Peggy crying and there’s no way those actions and fall outs can make a man worthy of lifting Mjolnir.

I’ve spent everyday since you left; crawling between dictionary pages; looking.
But there is no word for this kind of pain.

No word for the way your heart explodes silently between your lungs; a nuclear bomb in a land the world forgot.

No word for the way your stomach drops like a man without a parachute.

No word for that moment; when you realize you’ve had your head in the clouds all this time.

No word for the taste on your tongue after trying cough up a broken heart.

No word for the sound of empty promises cracking open in the hollow of your ears.

No word for the way it hurts to become a regret; a left behind; a yellowed memory forgotten in the darkest corner of their mind while they shine so bright in yours; it burns.

No word sad enough; empty enough; harsh enough; desperate enough to describe this kind of pain;

Except your name.

…well, that escalated quickly. I posted it way back at the end of 2014, it got reblogged by several BNFs in quick succession yesterday, and then it proceeded to rack up like 2,000 notes in one day, so apparently it still needs to be said:

Yes, you are allowed.

You are allowed to write the fic you want, rather than the fic you feel obligated to write. You’re allowed to write crack, crazy realism-defying stunts, self-indulgent trope fic, fucked-up fic about problematic people doing unhealthy things. Fic that doesn’t go through the pre-flight safety check for every swordfight and every BDSM scene, fic that glosses over the ugly real-life fallout of psychological trauma and/or jumping out of a quinjet without a parachute. Or, hey, if that’s your thing, fic that dwells on psychological trauma in loving, messy detail and has at least three punchlines about characters not being able to defy the laws of physics. Any of those things! All those things! We contain multitudes!

Any fic you write is probably going to be a net positive for fandom. The people who were looking for something in your niche get it, the people who didn’t know they wanted something in your niche discover a new thing they like, the people who don’t like it click the back button, the people who really really hate that entire genre of fic get to stroke their hateboners and get high off their own self-righteousness.

If it upsets people? The back button is a failsafe and instantaneous safeword. If it’s not as ~quality~ as other people’s fic? Don’t make me break out that “holy shit! TWO cakes!” comic. If someone takes away a disturbing, unhealthy, or otherwise less-than-wholesome message from your fic? You are not responsible for their failures of critical thinking or reading comprehension, to say nothing of those reading with outright malice looking for something to pounce on after interpreting it as uncharitably as humanly possible. Jesus fucking christ, it’s fanfiction, if people legit want sex ed they should be on Scarleteen. It’s not your job to educate them, certainly not with your fic. It’s not. It’s not. Fic serves so many other purposes. You are allowed to write what you want.

Loving you was always something of an extreme sport… a sort of self-destructive thrill seeking behavior I found terrifying yet strangely addictive. The highs were unlike anything I’d ever felt… the happiness, the excitement and the laughter were all so intense. Being with you was like every happy moment I’d ever had combined into one feeling and magnified a thousand times over.
But the lows are worse when you compare them to a high like that… and they didn’t just come at the end. I can remember there were times when it hurt to love you… a painful sadness that comes from knowing that nothing lasts forever.
But still I dared to hope. And it’s a frightening thing – to hope. To wish for something you know can never be a reality. That’s what loving you was like… Like jumping out of a plane without a parachute and thinking “Maybe I’ll be lucky and have a soft landing” but knowing full well it was probably going to be the end of me… But I did it anyway. I jumped right in knowing the consequences but despite it all, I wouldn’t take it back even though it ultimately destroyed me… Because until I’d met you I’d always felt as though I merely ‘existed’… and even though a part of me died the day I lost you, I still believe that being with you was worth it because when I think back on the time we spent together… I know I lived every moment……
—  Ranata Suzuki | I lived every moment

50%  Off  {Sentence Starters}
{ contains nsfw & triggers }

  • “They’re my ostriches!“
  • “Oh my god, he’s got a gun!”
  • “We’re not going to kill anyone.”
  • “WHAT is WRoNG wITh YoU?”
  • “That doesn’t sound fun at all…”
  • “Ooooh, that’s probably not good.”
  • “I wasn’t thinking about killing you.”
  • “SSSHH! I smell boys being gay…”  
  • “Aw, it should be illegal to be that fine!”
  • “Awesome! Wait, what just happened?”
  • “How’s your repressed love life doing?”
  • “How much of that stuff did you have?!”
  • “You know what I’m sick of?! All your shit!”
  • “Yeah it’s probably too cold. We’ll get sick.”
  • “I’m not going out there without a parachute!”
  • “Okay I’m gonna break in! Don’t be naked.”
  • “I like him in those positions… of leadership.”
  • “If you get scared, you can squeeze my hand.”
  • “They hate each other, but they also fuck each other!”
  • “Man. This place sure brings back memories for me.”
  • “I assure you all that I will not embarrass myself like last time.”
  • “I always thought swimming was kinda like doing somebody.”
  • “Okay I’m coming in. Also you’re gonna need a new backdoor.”
  • “Why’s he touching my man? Where’s he going with my man!?”
  • “Come on, let me get them digits, baby! Let’s make this a thang!”

Steve and Tony cuddling underneath a big blanket after a long mission is something I need. Tony has come away with some bad bruising while Steve is lucky to not have killed himself jumping out of the quin jet without a parachute…again. Bucky yelled his ear off for that because he never gets used to it but all he does is just wave him off as he carries a tired and sleepy Tony to their room. 

The rest of team head off to their own floors while Thor makes his way back to Asgard for important princely duties. Steve enters the room, thanking Jarvis for opening the doors, before gently placing Tony onto the more than spacious bed. He lets out a weak moan and reaches for Steve which causes Steve to smile as he leans down, pecking Tony’s forehead. 

He quickly checks him over before removing his suit and deciding that they’ll shower in the morning. The mission was a rough one and it took them about three days to complete but it was worth it in the end as they achieved their goal. 

Steve lays himself next to Tony before curling up around him, his arms wrapped loosely around his waist to avoid jolting his bruised ribs. He rests his cheek against Tony’s curls and takes in the familiar scent that is Tony, the scent that makes him feel right at home, that makes him feel safe. 

Tony releases a loud yawn before relaxing against Steve’s chest, hands curled into fists as his knees pull in, his face going slack and peaceful. He’s completely settled in the warmth that Steve provides, taking comfort from that fact that Steve is there and he’s with him. 

Steve pulls the blanket over the both of them before letting himself sink into the soft mattress as well as the feeling of Tony next to him. Within a few minutes, he’s asleep and the world around them, for once, goes still. 

[Alternate version of where this is actually a memory that Steve remembers for long ago while he’s hiding out with the rest of Team Cap. It’s a bittersweet memory and he doesn’t go back to sleep until the sun rises because the pain the memory brings is too much.]

Dating Steve Rogers Would Include:
  • Early to bed, early to rise
  • Running every morning together
  • Sunday morning = Pancake Day
  • Adopting Bucky Barnes as your guys’ Man Child
  • Playing with the shield while Steve isn’t around
  • Getting caught…
  • “My shield looks good on you”
  • Begging him to grow his beard out… just once
  • Dancing in the living room
  • Arguing about the tracker in your phone
  • Losing  because you give it a try and he goes into panic attacks
  • Adopting a tabby cat
  • Ruffling his helmet hair
  • Buying custom sleepwear that matches his different uniforms
  • Being suddenly slung up over his shoulder, fireman style
  • Surprising him in a complete 1940s outfit/makeup for a dancing date
  • Insomnia when he’s on a mission
  • Overcompensating that insomnia through working out late at night
  • Sometimes having to be the Big Spoon when he has nightmares or is just overcome with stress / Cradling him against your chest
  • Finding out about the stupid and unnecessarily risky stunts he pulls on each missions, glaring at him while he averts from eye contact.
  • “Steve Grant Rogers, you promised to stop free falling without a parachute!”

    “There wasn’t any time!”


    “There was time.”

    “Thanks, pal.”

Hetalia If It Was Real: Chapter One (Hetalia)

Surprise- No O.C this weekend!

Instead, I have something much worse. 

Much, much worse.

“Wouldn’t it be so cool if Hetalia was real?” That was the question that started it all.

Keep reading

  • Steve: *in a crowd and can't find bucky*
  • Steve: *murmurs* Captain America sucks..
  • Bucky, jumps over the crowd pumping his metal fist into the air: FIGHT ME
  • Hawkeye, speaking with a mouthful of sandwich: hey..LANGUAGE!
  • Falcon, flies over the crowd: On your above, you ass.
  • Tony Stark, zooooms from the opposite direction of Falcon: DON'T INSULT SENIOR CITIZENS!
  • Black Widow, appears out of, literally nowhere: *looks visibly murderous*
  • Peggy Carter, rises out of her grave: I HEARD YOU TALKING SHIT ABOUT STEVE ROGERS lemme tell you---...
  • Agent Phil Coulson, jumps out of the helicarrier without a parachute: NAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH FIIIIGHHHHTT MEEEE
  • Nick Fury: *pulls trigger on his gun*
  • Steve: what