The Netherlands democratically puts a list of the 2000 best songs together every year around New Year’s and the biggest mystery every time is whether Bohemian Rhapsody wins again
i’m serious, if it doesn’t win, it’s second place
every winner before 2005 is Bohemian Rhapsody as well
why arent we talking about the constant presence of hotel california
She looks to him again. “You can feel it, too, right?”
Around him the prairie seethes, like the world breathing. The shadows of the clouds race by, surging and flowing with the ribbons of sheet-iron. He nods. He can feel it. The rush of the land.
“It wasn’t him or her, you know,” she says, so soft. “It was me. I was the angry one. It was me.”
thank you so much to the amazingly lovely @transatlanticalienart for this beautiful commission from chapter sixteen of my fic Slip and Fall Season you are the best and we are so lucky to have you making art for us all
(i’ve also added the ink version at the end of the chapter!!)
Here’s the second “Familiar” for Elfuary, featuring Saeren and their trusty potassium Phoenix, Seer! Phoenixes in this universe aren’t always birds, but the ones that are tend to be different types of flaming fancy pigeons.
Bucky is struggling and you don’t always know what is best to say, but this is both of you trying.
AN:this is based on the fact that Bucky KNEW what Steve planned in Endgame…
7:06 PM EST
“That’s it.”
“That’s it?!” You bolted up from the chair you sat in. “That’s ridiculous! The implications of it, alone! Didn’t Bruce warn us about this, about branch realities?”
Steve leaned back in his chair as you shouted, arms resting in his lap. His face was stone stoic, eyes focused on you, he was hearing you. Yet, you knew your words had no impact. Steve had made up his mind long before he called you and Bucky in to talk. This was just a courtesy.
“You’re just going…going to leave? After everything, after we got everyone back?”
“Tony,” at the dead man’s name, Steve took a sharp breath. It still stung, still was a fresh wound. “He had the right idea, he had a family, a life. After everything, it’s time for me to retire, to give myself the chance to have that too.”
You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You can’t do that in this timeline?”
“I promised someone that I wouldn’t be late.”
“What about promises you made the team?!” Anger, boiling hot, bubbled up in your chest. “You can’t just-”
“Y/N.”
The sound of Bucky’s voice cut through the shock and hurt in your system. You turned, eyes wide, to the soldier sat beside you. Bucky was in his seat, still as a statue. His attention was fixed on Steve, and you knew he saw that same unshakable resolve you did. When he looked up at you from where he sat, Bucky’s eyes were pleading, desperate.
You were tired of wishing for people to stay, but you couldn’t say it.
You glared back at Steve, with a fury in your heart, and tipped your head towards Bucky. “What about the promise you made him? End of the line and all that?”
Silence greeted your question. Steve glanced from you to Bucky and back again. You had only ever seen Cap speechless once, after the defeat in Wakanda. So, it took you a moment to realize that he had nothing to say. When you looked back down at Bucky, you saw the same, quiet expression on his face.
“How are you not angry?”
Bucky did not reply to your question. His blue eyes flicked to the ground and something in his down-turned gaze made filled you with sour regret. It was too late, you had said what you said. You looked back at Steve and frowned.
“I won’t stand by and watch you go.” You turned to walk out the door, leaving the two super soldiers to discuss Steve’s departure.
2:01 AM EST
It was two in the morning when you first heard the knocking. The muddy view of your clock made you believe that you were still stuck somewhere in a dream state. For the past five years, since Thanos, your sleeping patterns were unpredictable. You grew used to tossing and turning, sleeping for scattered, small periods of time, or not sleeping at all. Not to mention the strange night terrors that invaded your rest-weary mind.
After your argument with Steve, your dreams this night, torrid and bitter, bleed into your hazy, waking reality. In the early morning hour, you convinced yourself the knocking was a hallucination blurred by disrupted sleep. With a grumble, you fell back against your pillow. Warm and welcoming, you were ready to fall back into the darkness of sleep. Then, just as you began to close your eyes once more, another round of knocking reached your ears.
With a groan, you tossed your legs over the side of your bed and let your feet hit the floor. Blood rushed to your head as you stood in one quick, too quick, movement. Rather than take a moment to ease your dizzy head, you started towards your bedroom door with your hand pressed to your still pounding skull. As you padded down the hall, the knocking dulled, trailed off into dwindling thuds, as if the source started to grow wary.
Before the sound faded completely, you turned the latch and threw open your front door. Light from the lit, apartment complex hallway shone across your vision. Senses already drained from a lackluster sleep, you were momentarily blinded. As you squinted and struggled to adjust to the light, a shadow moved to block it.
Then, the shadow became a figure, an outline in a familiar, awkwardly friendly shape. A sharp nose and slight cleft chin came into focus. Long strands of messy, brown hair and the glint of eyes stood out in the semi-darkness. Finally, when your eyes accumulated, you could name the shadow of a man that lingered in your now open doorway.
“Bucky?”
You saw him clearly then but lacked the proper verbiage to describe him. The right word was lost somewhere in his eyes that drooped down and darkened around the sockets. Or along his lips, how they parted as if he had something to say, but let the words die on his tongue. Scruff, patchy and thick, covered his face. Haggard. Bucky Barnes looked haggard as he lingered in your doorway at two in the morning.
When another long moment passed, and his mouth opened only to close and open again, you only nodded. “Come here.”
Before Bucky could change his mind, your hand closed around his wrist of metal. A small, sharp intake of breath reached your ears but you were too caught up in the thrall of your late-night, early morning guest to wonder why he breathed so strangely. It was only when he was inside, the light of the hallway was trapped behind your front door, did you realize you were the cause of Bucky’s now wide eyes. After you flicked on the nearest lamp, you followed his downturned gaze to your hand, your fingers that were wrapped around his Vibranium limb.
“Oh, I didn’t realize I-,” you said, pulling your hand away.
“It’s, it’s fine,” Bucky interrupted. Despite his words, he shifted his metal arm behind his back. “It’s just…no one ever really…”
Bucky trailed off, his eyes falling to the side then the floor, away from you. Your tiredness ebbed at the sight. Five years without Bucky turned your heart to rough stone, but now that he was back, you could not deny how the man softened your harder edges. Steve mentioned something about it before, how Bucky found a way to catch you in your best worst moments and pull you out of the dark. Though, it felt as if you hardly knew Steve anymore and, back then, you didn’t know Bucky at all.
All you knew was the Winter Soldier; not the man that stood before you, glancing around your apartment, at anything but your eyes.
A man that seemed swallowed by the very darkness he pulled his loved ones from time and time again. You could not help but begin to reach out. Silently, with itching fingers, you hoped that he would take your hand. You wanted to say that you were sorry for your earlier outburst, sorry about Steve. You wanted to tell him to let you be his anchor, let you hold him in place while he put his world together. Only a couple of days ago he returned, only to attend a funeral, and face the nightmare of Steve’s looming absence.
You wanted to….but you lost your courage and let your hand fall back to your side.
“What’s wrong, besides the obvious?” As you asked, you cleared your throat of all that you wanted to say.
Bucky finally lifted his eyes from your floor and met your gaze. “I…It’s hard, being back and…I’m not adjusting.”
A wave of aching sympathy and confusion rolled over your shoulders. Never before had you seen Bucky so shaken, so exhausted. Even in your somewhat sleepy state, you could so clearly see depths of sadness in Bucky’s widened blue eyes and the defeat in the slackness of his jaw. He could have gone anywhere, but he was there, with you.
“Okay.” You nodded and echoed, “okay.”
On your heel, you turned towards your small living room. The lamp you had flipped on bathed the room in a soft, warm glow. If it weren’t for Bucky’s worry, you might even find the scene relaxing, welcoming. But, as you fell back on your couch with a small sigh, you felt hardly any relief. You looked back up and saw that Bucky was watching you, expression unchanged.
His eyes flickered to you and to the unoccupied cushion at your side. You could not help the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth at the softness he exuded. Though, Bucky seemed blind to the small hints of his heart that slipped out through his silent ask for permission. To answer, you patted the empty space beside you.
“You can sit, I don’t bite.”
Bucky didn’t move to sit down next to you. He stayed still, watchful, wary.
“Please, I,” you sighed, “I want to apologize.”
Bucky shifted at your words as if he were expecting a punch rather than beg pardon. With careful steps, he moved across the floor of your apartment and sat on the couch beside you. The cushions dipped beneath his weight and caused you to tip over slightly despite the fact he sat a fair distance away. Bucky left a vast space between you and him. Within an arm’s length but seemingly so out of your reach.
To better face him, you shifted in your seat and sat cross-legged at his side. Bucky held your gaze and in the lamp’s light, the blue of his eyes seemed brighter but his face gave away the true depth of his tiredness.
“I want to apologize about before. I shouldn’t have said that, or asked him, or asked for you. It was rude, out of line,” you breathed, eyeing him as you spoke. “And I’m sorry.”
In typical, aloof, Bucky fashion, he only stared back at you in reply. A long few seconds of quiet stretched between you. You considered apologizing again, unable to bear the silence. Then, Bucky’s eyes flicked from yours to your lips and back again, and you lost your courage. You peeled your eyes away, feigned interest in how your hands rested in your lap.
“Steve told me,” at the sound of his voice, you looked up to meet his gaze, “that you were a lover and that’s what made you a fighter.”
A nervous laugh slipped out of your laugh. “I don’t…I don’t know what to say to that.”
“Neither did I, but I don’t know what to say about a lot of things. So, I don’t talk. But you, you try. You say, you love, and you fight-”
“And I say too much,” you interrupted. Bucky’s gaze grew a serious edge. “Sorry.”
“You ask the questions others want to,” he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. “You say the things no one else seems to have the pluck to. You’re the one thing I never have to adjust to, you’re always you.”
“That’s not true.” Bucky cocked his head at your words and you shook your head. “I mean, I don’t say what I want to all the time, not how I want to.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Are you implying that I talk too much?”
Gently, you pushed a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. Beneath the layers of his jacket and shirt, you could feel the warmth of his arm on your palm. He hardly budged with the push, but a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth ever so slightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you had seen him smile, perhaps five years ago.
“I know I’m rusty, but that feels like a trap,” Bucky drawled, letting his eyes fall from yours. It seemed that, as quickly as you noticed the hints of a smile on his lips, he began to frown again. Your heart stung at the sight.
“I’m glad you’re back.” You reached across the cushion between you and let your hand rest on his forearm. Again, warmth kissed your palm. Bucky turned his gaze back to you at your touch. His blue eyes studied your features with an intensity you had never seen before.
“You’re stuck with me.”
“Not stuck. I want you to stay.” Your eyes widened as you realized what you had said. Quickly, you added, “stay around. People leaving after everyone else being gone…”
“People? You mean Steve.” He craned his neck and shot you a knowing glance.
“Yeah, I mean Steve.”
Bucky sighed and let his eyes fall to your hand that lingered on his arm. “He’s right, about giving himself a chance.”
“You mean that you would do the same?”
“Maybe,” Bucky paused before he lifted his eyes to yours, “if it were you.”
“I…” You shook your head in the hopes of clearing away the shock. When it did not recede with the tide of blood that rushed to your face, you forcibly tore your eyes from Bucky.
You wanted to blame the early morning hour for your speechlessness. The lack of sleep had dulled your senses, making you slow to respond. But Bucky’s words rang in your head like a siren echoing through the streets of a city. There was no escaping it, not walking out of this room, leaving the matter in your dust. No, you would have to find that courage to speak up, that pluck, Bucky claimed you held.
Though, you were too consumed by the warmth of him sitting so close and the wild beating of your heart to search for it.
“Hey,” Bucky’s tone, soft and luring, immediately pulled your attention back to him. His eyes, they were pleading again, desperate again. “Say it. Say what you want to.”
Somewhere, in Bucky’s eyes, you found it, that courage.
“I’m tired of wishing for people to stay,” you murmured, “I don’t want to watch you go, either. I want you to stay.”
“Then I’m with you.” Bucky’s hand, the one your fingers brushed against, lifted. Carefully, hesitantly, he reached for your face. The tips of his fingers kissed your cheek and cupped your jaw with a softness you had never felt before. “I’m with you.”
A thick strand of brown hair fell before his eyes. Instinctually, you moved to brush it away from his face. You tucked it behind his ear and, at the light brushing of your fingers, Bucky leaned into the touch before you let your hand fall into your lap. For the second time, you caught his gaze flicker from yours to your lips and back again.
Though, this time, your resolve did not tremble. You leaned in and met Bucky in the middle, closing the gap between you. The tip of his nose knocked against yours like buffer, giving you the chance to pull away if you so wished. When you didn’t, when you pressed your lips to Bucky’s, he reciprocated. His hand held your face to his as you shifted, moving from your sitting position to lean in closer.
Bucky shifted too, melted into the cushions of your couch until you were settled above him. Your lips parted and you took the chance to catch your breath. Bucky’s eyes were half-lidded, focused on your lips before he met your gaze. It was then you caught the glint of his Vibranium limb from the corner of your eye. When you looked over to his arm, hung off the edge of the couch, Bucky followed your gaze.
Carefully, you reached a hand out towards his metal wrist. The surface was cool against your fingers, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body below yours. You brought his mechanical hand to your waist, let his metal fingers take a hold of your hip. As you did, you met Bucky’s eyes once more and saw the worry in them.
“You’re with me,” you echoed, “and I trust you.”
And that was all Bucky needed to hear as his fingertips, both flesh and metal, pressed a little harder into your skin as he pulled you in for another kiss.
Goodnight to everyone!! Except whoever brought form to my nightmares today. That person whom sketched upon the classroom whiteboard, anonymous and unaware, is now the person I fear most and my newest enemy.
