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ego-meliorem-esse · 11 months

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A Clear Shift

1942(ish), London

Amidst the tumultuous turmoil of war, the Kirkland family found themselves gathered in the solemn atmosphere of Arthur's countryside estate, located on the outskirts of London. The living room, or rather the parlor, served as the setting for this tense encounter. The once-grand parlor, contrary to the turmoils of war itself, was adorned with no signs of wear and tear. The room, bathed in muted hues of deep mahogany and faded gold, bore no witness to the toll that the conflict had taken. The wood paneling had not lost its sheen, its edges weren't marred with scratches or scuffs. The vibrant, newly installed wallpaper, showed no sign of peeling at the corners. It still very much showcased the semi-vibrant pattern chosen by its owner. The room was adorned with antique furniture, the air heavy with an unspoken tension that seemed to permeate every corner. It served as a temporary and solemn gathering place for the Kirkland household. The somber atmosphere hung heavy in the air as if the weight of the world had settled upon their shoulders.

Seated around a once expensive, sturdy wooden table were Matthew, Zee, Jack, and their father Arthur, each one bearing the visible marks of war, bandages wrapped tightly around their weary bodies. Their countenances mirrored the weight of their experiences, etched with lines of concern and shadows of exhaustion. The war had taken its toll on them, physically and emotionally.

Alfred, the only one not seated at the table, occupied the couch on the opposite side of the room. His piercing gaze surveyed the book and its contents. His eyes conveyed an unyielding determination and a sense of detachment. Alfred sat quietly. Much more quietly than he had ever sat anywhere. More quietly than he was known for sitting. For once a grand room was not filled with Alfred's thunderous voice, but rather the lack of it.

Alfred was seemingly in his own world, burdened by his own thoughts and concerns.

Jack and Zee sat opposite their father at the much too-long table, simply watching and enduring the scene unfolding in the room. Or rather, they were watching the lack of a scene. Usually evenings like this resulted in shouting, arguments, and someone getting thrown out of the house by midnight. No such thing happened the entire evening and while they were glad a sense of normalcy engulfed the parlor and its occupants, a sense of unease resided within its walls as well. Namely, the source of that unease sat right opposite of them.

Arthur, for once not sitting at the head of the table, but rather at the side of it, grasped a bottle of not-at-all-expensive American whiskey in his hand, drinking from it slowly and yet with a certain urgency. A lone figure, illuminated by the dim light filtering through the partially drawn curtains. The amber liquid seemed to fuel his frustrations and exacerbate his anxieties. Each swig, lacking Arthurs's usual politeness and propriety, seemed to fuel his frustration. Despite his current engagement in this particular vice, his words weren't any more slurred or unclear. In fact, Arthur had seemed to only find his footing and eloquence in the matters at hand when his glass was only recently empty and refilled as needed. And Arthur had deemed it a necessity indeed.

As the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the occasional sound of Arthur's ungentlemanly gulps of the American corn whiskey, his children exchanged worried, yet at the same time quite numbed glances.

Matthew dared to suggest that perhaps it was time to retire for the night. His voice was laced with worry.

"Maybe it's best if you put that down and get some rest," Matthew cautiously ventured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

Arthur, his words surprisingly unslurred by the effects of alcohol, dismissed Matthew's concern with a wave of his hand, demanding the undivided attention of his children.

"Matthew, I unequivocally do not need your lectures today," he retorted sharply, yet not as loudly as he had wished. His tone laced with frustration and alcohol-infused defiance.

Matthew recoiled slightly at his father's curt response, his voice lowering in tone.

"I'm just saying... you'll feel better if you rest, considering your injuries and all," he added, his words trailing off, not knowing how to finish the sentence in a way that would make Arthur listen and comply.

"Oh, now you find your voice?" Arthur snapped, his anger bubbling to the surface. "Now you have the cheek to command men around?" His voice dripped with bitterness, an underlying resentment that had been building over time. Though, presumably, the anger released was not really aimed at Matthew personally. Not really.

"Truly, I would have loved to see that resolve and strength of will during the shit-storm that met us at the damn Dieppe." Dieppe became a textbook example of "what not to do" in amphibious operations. And while Arthur knew that there was nothing Matthew could have done to prevent the disaster, his anger wasn't really looking for a rational approach.

Matthew fell silent, his eyes slightly downcast, his attempt to help met with scorn. He felt the weight of his Arthurs disappointment bearing down on him. In situations like this, where he attempted an altruistic approach with his mentor, the aim of the metaphorical gun only seemed to turn towards him.

At last, he backed off and settled back into his chair, silently pondering his fruitless efforts. As he was used to doing.

In that tense moment, Alfred, who had only come out of his own thought and gazed up upon hearing his fathers scorn filled voice, observed the scene unfold. He rose from the couch without a word, setting down the book he was reading in a calm and slightly eerie manner. He strode purposefully toward the table where his family sat, his expression unreadable and uncanny. The room and its occupants barely registered his approach as he lifted the bottle from the table, his emotionless eyes fixed on his father.

With a sudden shift in tone, Alfred flung the bottle against the wall with all his might. Indicating his disapproval of Arthurs's words and settling the matter without any use of his own. The sound of shattering glass shattered the room's uneasy silence, and the fragments of the bottle scattered across the floor like the exploded shrapnel parts of a handheld grenade.

Arthur, his eyes widening by mere millimeters, did not utter a word. His face was unchanging. Alfred stood tall beside him, his gaze unwavering, an unspoken declaration of his strength and authority. The shift in the power dynamic was never as obvious to the onlookers as it was at that moment.

Alfred turned away, retreating to the couch, his face a mask of unyielding composure.

He picked the book up and reticently continued where he left off on the page.

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the shattered bottle a tangible metaphor for the fractured relationships and undeniable swap in dynamics within their family. Arthurs's anger, if even present, was meticulously hidden behind a facade of stoicism. He stood up on his wounded leg, aided by his cane for support, and without a single word he made his way through the dark hallway, up the large, creaky stairs, to the master bedroom. The sound of Arthur's footsteps and the rhythmic clack of his cane echoed through the hallway as he retreated upstairs. The weight of his absence lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the changing hierarchy within their family.

Zee, breaking the silence, mumbled under her breath, barely audible but laden with significance, that she too should retire for the night. Her voice carried a mixture of resignation and, surprisingly even to her, relief. The weariness of the situation was etched on her face. Jack, his gaze fixed on Zee's retreating and visibly fatigued figure, followed suit without uttering a word, silently beckoning Matthew to accompany him.

Matthew, caught between the remnants of Arthur's authority and the newfound power Alfred had asserted, rose hesitantly from his seat, his gaze never leaving his brother at the opposite side of the room. He exchanged a brief glance with Jack, the weight of unspoken words passing between them. With a nod, Matthew followed him, their footsteps fading into the distance, leaving Alfred alone in the parlor.

He remained seated, the silence enveloping him as he stared blankly at the word-filled page before him. The room, once filled with the echoes of heated arguments, now resonated with the quiet realization that their lives were starting to and were going to change. Alfred's emotionless facade masked a tumult of thoughts and feelings, his mind a labyrinth of complexities.

Outside, the world engulfed by the night's murkiness continued its relentless march, oblivious to the fractured harmony within the walls of the manor. The war raged on, each passing day leaving scars both seen and unseen.

As the final embers of the candle (because Arthur insisted on candles while they resided in the manor) in the center of the table flickered and died, Alfred closed his eyes, allowing the silence to envelop him even for a moment. Silence was never something Alfred liked. And while that could mean peace to everyone else, for Alfred silence meant unease and boredom. Though unease he could stand, boredom he could not. In the stillness of the parlor, he sought solace by turning on the radio on the cabinet next to the grand table his family was occupying a while ago, finding temporary refuge from the tumultuous realities of their wartime existence, as well as the anxious silence he seemed to avoid like the plague.

The night pressed on, leaving the manor cloaked in darkness, its occupants scattered to their own private realms of introspection and unrest. The only source of sound was the radio Alfred kept on as a way to ease his discomfort with quietude. Alfred couldn't help but wonder about his siblings' worries and the unrest that plagued their minds. He had no doubt in his mind that new, uncertain things were afoot. Change was coming. Change of his own making at that.

Good thing he had no problem with change.

But for now, they remained suspended in the suffocating grip of uncertainty.

Alfred looked at the ridiculously oversized Victorian grandfather clock in the corner whose ticking had stopped a good 5 years ago. He sighed, deciding that 3 am was a decent time to retreat to his room and go to sleep. He calculated that if he fell asleep in half an hour and woke up a bit earlier than 8 am, he'd get at least a solid 4 hours and 30 minutes of rest. Nodding to himself, he turned off the radio, which by now was playing an unknown tune from the 1920s. He went to blow out the candle but realized it had already reached the end of its life. Alfred realized he was sitting (now standing) in almost complete darkness for quite a while.

The remnants of shattered glass glimmered on the floor, which only now started to annoy Alfred. Deciding against cleaning up the mess, he stepped over it and closed the door behind him, leaving the room pitch black.

----

what can I say: Arthur, whiskey bottles and those same whiskey bottles being thrown at a wall are my kryptonite.

I have a part 2 but it's not really all that related to this situation hmmmm

#hetalia #hws england #hws america #hws australia #hws new zealand #meli writes #hetalia fanfiction #historical hetalia #dont take this seriouslyyy #shift in dynamicssss #pater familias is no longer all that powerful huhuhuhuhu

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whispersinthedawn · 1 year

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The Last of a Dying Breed (1)

“This is the Oracle of Delphi?” Bianca asked tremulously, staring at the girl whose face rang the sole bell of recognition in an otherwise unfamiliar world.

“Yes,” Annabeth said flatly, the twelve-year-old supremely unconcerned about sneaking into someone’s room while they were asleep.

“Should we come back when she's awake?” Bianca suggested hesitantly.

Annabeth snorted. “If you wish to wait forever. She's only been asleep for nearly fifty years. A modern-day Sleeping Beauty.”

***

The door slammed open with a thunderous boom disproportionate to the force applied.

Bianca should have taken it as the death knell for their plans it was. Unfortunately, being afflicted by a criminal case of amnesia left one particularly unequipped to interpreting the vagaries of abrupt gusts of wind. All she knew was that Annabeth Chase didn’t bother knocking before she threw open the door and marched inside confidently.

Bianca scurried in after her, wondering if the daughter of Athena had an invitation to visit the Oracle whenever she wished. Either way, she hoped the Oracle would choose to disregard their discourtesy long enough to give them a prophecy.

On first glance, the attic appeared to be a pretty enough room, wallpapered in blue and yellow and boasting mementos from past demigod victories. Nothing frightening about it to send dark looks on the faces of every camper Bianca had broached the matter of approaching the Oracle to.

Probably why despite the knick-knacks, the room had an air of disuse to it.

Bianca had almost dismissed the chamber as an office when she caught her first sight of the Oracle.

A slender, pretty, dark-haired girl lay asleep on the bed near the window, undisturbed in spite of the loud noise that had heralded the entrance of the two demigods.

“This is the Oracle of Delphi?” Bianca asked tremulously, staring at the girl whose face rang the sole bell of recognition in an otherwise unfamiliar world.

“Yes,” Annabeth said flatly, the twelve-year-old supremely unconcerned about sneaking into someone’s room while they were asleep.

“Should we come back when she's awake?” Bianca suggested hesitantly.

Annabeth snorted. “If you wish to wait forever. She's only been asleep for nearly fifty years. A modern-day Sleeping Beauty.”

That resonated alarmingly.

Bianca looked at the older girl on the bed with horrified sympathy. Wrangling with the fact that Bianca’s memories were comprised solely of facts from a history book was terrible enough.

What would it be like to literally sleep away decades and wake up to find the world had left her behind?

What would it be like to never wake up at all?

“Is that what the Oracle does? Sleep and give prophecies?” Bianca whispered, dreading the answer.

Annabeth scoffed, something bitter in her eyes. “I doubt Percy Jackson knew what she was signing up for when she decided to become the Oracle.”

***

Finally working on my Oracle Percy fic. Where Percy becomes the Oracle of Delphi in the middle of World War II. And Bianca wakes up with the grand ambition to recover her memories. And prevent World War III. Annabeth is pretty insistent on that.

#pjo #fanfiction #percy jackson #perpollo #bianca di angelo #annabeth chase #Oracle Percy #fem percy #percy x apollo #the last of a dying breed

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iamaboredpotatonugget · 1 year

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The best Harry/Hermione/Ron Fics because yes.

Molly wonders about them sometimes. How they are always so aware of each other, how closely they cling together. And she worries, too. She worries about them all. She just can’t help it—they’re all her children, in some manner of speaking.

The world is ending and they are three; a holy set amidst the thunder that still rolls through. Hermione does want to end this war, she does, but perhaps she only wants it for them.

Wars end, but that doesn't mean peace. Not always. Not for those who've fought and bled and sacrificed to free their world from a monster wearing the mask of humanity.

Rumors are spreading in the wake of the war that Harry Potter has gone Dark. Hermione and Ron are the only ones who know the truth—he has, and they’re going to follow him regardless. Their paths will always lie together.

It begins with Ron and Hermione moving into Grimmauld Place.

The Trio start repairing Grimmauld Place after the war, and find themselves updating their relationship along with the wallpaper.

Love is three points on a triangle. When Ron leaves, nothing is right. When he returns, the world falls right back into place.

No one is okay after the war, but everyone pretends.

All things considered, Ron thinks he's adjusting fairly well.

Unceremoniously ripped away from his family and friends and being dumped into the past with a baby Dark Lord to take care of is not exactly an easy thing to acclimate to, but he manages, somehow.

Eventually, they find a note tacked to the gargoyle who guards the passage to the Headmaster's office. It is in Granger's handwriting and signed by her at the bottom, and tells them that, the danger being over and the initial aftermath winding down, she feels that the three of them need some time alone to recuperate and will reappear exactly three days from that day, at four o'clock.

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laresearchette · 2 years

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Thursday, November 17, 2022 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

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WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT DRAGONS: THE NINE REALMS (TBD - YTV)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

CRAVE TV A CHRISTMAS STORY CHRISTMAS THE SEX LIVES OF COLLEGE GIRLS (Season 2, Episode 1-2)

DISNEY + STAR FLEISHMAN IS IN TROUBLE

NETFLIX CANADA 1899 BANTÚ MAMA CHRISTMAS WITH YOU DEAD TO ME (Season 3) I AM VANESSA GUILLEN PEPSI, WHERE'S MY JET?

NHL HOCKEY (SNWest) 7:00pm: Flames vs. Lightning (SN1/SNEast/SNPacific) 7:00pm: Flyers vs. Bruins (SNOntario) 7:00pm: Devils vs. Leafs (TSN2) 7:00pm: Habs vs. Blue Jackets (TSN3) 8:00pm: Ducks vs. Jets (SN360) 10:00pm: Coyotes vs. Knights

NBA BASKETBALL (TSN4) 7:30pm: 76ers vs. Hawks (SN1) 10:30pm: Pistons vs. Clippers

DRAGONS' DEN (CBC) 8:00pm (SEASON FINALE): In the season finale, a mother-daughter team plow their way into the Den; a married couple makes a splash and looks to clean up; and a designer hopes her custom demonstration will sew up a Dragon deal. Plus, a decorated entrepreneur hopes her journey to success lights a fire under the Dragons.

AMERICAN REALITY TV AWARDS (Out TV) 8:00pm

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN) 8:15pm: Titans vs. Packers

VEGHEADZ (CTV Life) 8:30pm: Chef Pino Di Cerbo creates a vegetable-filled holiday feast.

THE FIFTH ESTATE (CBC) 9:00pm: The Fifth Estate investigates the murky world of human smuggling after a family of four from India, including a toddler, froze to death in January trying to cross from Manitoba into Minnesota. Host: Steven D'Souza

NATIONS AT WAR (APTN) 9:00pm: By the 1800s, the Ojibwe were scarred by years of disease and bitter wars against European and Indigenous rivals. For over a century, they faced an impossible choice as turmoil threatened to destroy their nations: land or peace?

THE LAZARUS PROJECT (Showcase) 9:00pm: As George tries desperately to cover his tracks, his actions force Archie to question her faith in the Lazarus Project.

BIG TIMBER (History Canada) 9:00pm (SEASON FINALE): Tempers flare as Kevin and his team finalize building the Pipe Dream and finally get the boat out on the water; with the snow finally gone, the crew heads back up the mountain to yard wood; Kevin has a special surprise for Jack and Rachel's wedding.

MAKEOVER BY MONDAY (Magnolia Canada) 9:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE): Jenni Yolo remodels her friends' bedroom into an oasis that will provide a nice escape for the parents of four children. Jenni uses DIY-friendly techniques to transform the space including a custom wallpaper and a faux-denza. In Episode Two, Jenni Yolo sets out to transform her younger sister's dark, duplex kitchen into a design masterpiece in only three days. Stepping outside her comfort zone in some areas, Jenni makes some bold design choices in hopes her sister will be blown away.

GOING NATIVE (APTN) 9:30pm: Drew steps into the Badlands to visit the Hoodoos formations in Alberta. Later, he travels to Thunder Bay to meet a sleeping giant. Lastly, Drew heads to Lake Huron and the Manitou Islands to uncover incredible Indigenous legends.

RIVALRY SERIES (TSN5) 10:00pm: USA vs. Canada

PAMELA'S GARDEN OF EDEN (HGTV Canada) 10:00pm: Pamela's takes matters into her own hands when she worries her team isn't putting enough of a modern, sexy spin on the old roadhouse front room; things come to a head when the designs for the boathouse are far off from her grand vision.

CANADIAN REFLECTIONS (CBC) 11:30pm: Tibbits Hill/Clothing

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #dragons' den #vegheadz #the fifth estate #nations at war #the lazarus project #big timber #going native #pamela's garden of eden #canadian reflections #nhl hockey #nba basketball #nfl football

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bilaldemirkr · 4 months

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Steam’den bir rekor daha!

New Post has been published on https://bilaldemirkr.com.tr/steamden-bir-rekor-daha/

Steam’den bir rekor daha!

Oyun denince akla gelen Steam, dünyanın en büyük dijital oyun mağazalarından birisi. On milyonlarca kullanıcıya sahip olan platform, yalnızca oyun satın almak için değil, arkadaşların birlikte oyun oynamak için buluştuğu bir nokta. Her geçen gün kullanıcı sayısını giderek artıran Steam, böylece yeni rekorlara da imza atıyor. Son olarak platform, bir rekorla daha isminden kelam ettirdi.

Steam, eş vakitli oyuncu sayısı rekoru kırdı

SteamDB tarafından paylaşılan bilgilere nazaran Steam, geçtiğimiz saatlerde 33 milyon 675 bin 229 eş vakitli oyuncu sayısı ile rekorunu tazeledi. Bundan evvelki rekor, 33 milyon 598 bin 520 eş vakitli oyuncuydu.

Yeni rekor: 33 milyon 675 bin 229 eş vakitli oyuncu

Eski rekor: 33 milyon 598 bin 520 eş vakitli oyuncu

Steam bilgilerine baktığımızda en çok oynanan oyunların Counter-Strike 2, Dota 2, PUBG: BATTLEGROUNDS ve Baldur’s Gate 3 olduğunu görüyoruz. Kelam konusu bu üretimlerin rekorun kırılmasında önemli bir hissesi var.

Steam’de en çok oynanan oyunlar şu formda sıralandı;

Sıra Oyun Fiyatı 1 Counter-Strike 2 Oynaması Ücretsiz 2 Dota 2 Oynaması Ücretsiz 3 PUBG: BATTLEGROUNDS Oynaması Ücretsiz 4 Baldur’s Gate 3 34.99 MENA-USD 5 Grand Theft Auto (GTA) 5 29.98 MENA-USD (-25%) 6 Apex Legends Oynaması Ücretsiz 7 Rust 39.99 MENA-USD 8 Monster Hunter: World 22.49 MENA-USD 9 NARAKA: BLADEPOINT Oynaması Ücretsiz 10 Team Fortress 2 Oynaması Ücretsiz 11 Wallpaper Engine 2.79 MENA-USD 12 Lethal Company 5.79 MENA-USD 13 Call of Duty 14 War Thunder Oynaması Ücretsiz 15 THE FINALS Oynaması Ücretsiz 16 Path of Exile Oynaması ücretsiz 17 Football Manager 2024 33.99 MENA-USD 18 Warframe Oynaması ücretsiz 19 ELDEN RING 33.99 MENA-USD 20 Unturned Oynaması ücretsiz

Peki siz bu bahis hakkında neler düşünüyorsunuz? Görüşlerinizi aşağıdaki Yorumlar kısmından bizimle paylaşabilirsiniz.

#Milyon #Oyun #Steam #Ücretsiz

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budgetlascl · 2 years

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tonkijazz · 2 years

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Incorrect displaying of waves in naval battles and replays when the camera was placed low or at a certain distance has been fixed.

For example, searching for "Danger Zone" will now display only the corresponding trophy, key and decal, but also all camouflages of the trophy, since they have the "Camouflage trophy: "Danger Zone" tag.

Tags can now be used in the item search text box.

Links to the market for traded items from the “Summer Cocktail” trophy have been added.

A bug where after the last machine gun belt was expended, the ammo indicator showed the refill animation has been fixed ( report).

A bug which caused the amount of SL and GE in the hangar in the player card to not be updated after purchase of an item in the store has been fixed.

HMS Hawkins - Guidance angle of the main calibre turret has been reduced according to installation limitations from 30 to 19 degrees.

Leningrad - Guidance angles of the fourth main calibre turret have been corrected to avoid collisions with anti-aircraft guns when firing.

Now radar locks on target while the tracking is on even while aircraft are pitched significantly.

Center of the view zone tracking target while TWS is on now automatically resets while the TWS is disabled.

SB2U (all versions) - incorrect display of objects i through the sight has been fixed ( report).

DEFA 553 gun- weight has been corrected from 150 to 81 kg.

SNEB Type 23 rockets - armor piercing value of the shaped charge has been fixed from 300mm to 400mm.

The shifting down of the guided bomb sight while target acquisition is enabled has been fixed for the gamepads.

A bug has been fixed due to which a canceling of a lock on target of guided bombs did not reset the crosshair.

A bug has been fixed due to which bombs were released asymmetricaly in Arcade battles - first from one wing, then from another.

Т-80U - total ammo capacity of the 12,7mm gun has been corrected from 300 to 500 rounds.

Т-80B, Т-80BVM, Т-80U - ammo belt capacity of the 12,7mm machine gun has been corrected from 150 to 100 rounds.

25mm PGU-20/U round - incorrect tracer element has been removed.

25mm PGU-25/U round - muzzle velocity has been increased from 1065 to 1085 m/sec, the tracer has been removed.

100mm BR-412, BR-412B, BR-412D rounds - incorrectly presented overpressure damage has been revoked.

Conway - a bug has been fixed due to which tracks were repaired before the track sprocket ( report).

SMK - inoperable machine gun of the radio operator has been removed from the x-ray view.

M48 Super - underestimated targeting speed of the AA machine gun has been fixed ( report).

Type 93 - speed of the Type 91 missile has been corected in the info card ( report).

BMD-4 - the value of the hull side armor has been corrected in the info card.

#Camouflage wallpaper

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byblackswan · 5 years

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wkemeup · 3 years

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Sunrise (8)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.3k warnings: sweet happy beautiful bucky, a unpleasant reminder of the past, whiplash of emotion, the angst I warned you about 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky wasn’t quite sure how to hold onto this feeling without suffocating it.

It had been nearly a year since he’d felt even an ounce of the relief like what washed through his body when you walked through the door. All it took was a single smile from across the room, the soft brush of your hair over your fingers as you nervously tucked it behind your ear, and he was gone.

Enough for his cheeks to ache from smiling. Enough for his stomach to twist and knot from laughter. Enough for the wrinkles by his eyes to draw long and pronounced— the physical embodiment of joy upon his face.

He wasn’t walking on eggshells, waiting for the carpet to be dragged out from under his feet, for the paralyzing darkness of an empty void to consume him whole. The shadows weren’t lingering in his wake, itching to clench their claws into his spine and drag him away from the one thing that finally drew light back into his life.

For the first time since he stepped back on American soil, Bucky Barnes was happy. Truly and honest to God, happy.

“So! What do you think?” your voice called to him, breaking the trance he’d been in.

“Hmm?” Bucky blinked a few times to adjust to his surroundings. You were laughing at him, a hand over your lips in an effort to muffle the sound. Behind you, a woman directed a pointed stare in your direction despite the busy chatter inside Luciana’s.

“The book, Bucky,” you grinned, tapping on the edge of the binding.

He glanced down. The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue sat propped in his right hand, the clip you’d given him the first day of book club nestled in at the center to keep the pages open. Truthfully, he hadn’t read a single word of it since he sat down with you an hour ago. His attention had been better kept watching how you tugged your lower lip between your teeth in concentration, how your eyes widened at a particularly suspenseful part of your chapter, how you clicked your nails against the coffee mug in perfect rhythm with the café music.

“It’s good,” he said, though you pouted at him.

“Bucky you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes!”

Busted. He shrugged, a laugh in his breath.

“Guess there were better things to look at.”

Your lips parted for a second, caught off guard, before you settled back into your seat. Your hands wrung out in front of you, eyes darting down the floor. It wasn’t easy to make you flustered, but damn if it was Bucky’s favorite feeling in the world.

“Don’t insult my books like that, Barnes,” you teased, lingering smile upon your face.

“Wouldn’t call it an insult,” he said simply. “There’s not much that can hold a candle when you’re around.”

The stun didn’t leave your face for a few seconds. You stared at him, then glanced around the room nervously as if he’d said something incredibly intimate. He couldn’t remember the last time this came so easy to him – the flirting, the charm. It was something he’d thrived on before the war and now, it seemed you brought that side out of him again.

“You’re a charmer today,” you observed, laughing through the nervous energy. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Bucky shrugged, reaching across the table to break off a piece of your pastry and plopped it into his mouth. “I’m happy. Can I be happy?”

You nodded quickly, almost a little too enthusiastically, with a smile so wide on your face he wondered if it were possible for it to touch your ears.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be happy.” The words left your lips almost breathlessly. You were looking at him like he was the goddamn sun and damn if that didn’t tug straight at his heart. “I like you happy.”

“I like me happy, too,” Bucky chuckled. He glanced up at the clock. “Come on, we should head over to the VA.”

You downed the rest of your coffee in a single chug and set the cup on the counter. Luciana waved at you as you moved towards the exit, Bucky in tow, and she winked at him as he passed by. He nodded, offering her a tight-lipped smile as he stepped out into the cool Autumn air. Your hand naturally slipped into his and you tugged him along the sidewalk.

“Promise me you’ll actually pay attention to Steve’s spiel instead of staring at me the whole time,” you teased him as you walked over the crosswalk, nudging his side.

Steve was giving a presentation at the VA for the open house; explaining the benefits, the groups, different opportunities, and the respite rooms. It was a big deal apparently and helped to bring a lot of former soldiers into the fold. It was one of your favorite days because there was usually an increase of members at book club for a few weeks after.

“No guarantees,” Bucky replied, face as even as he could manage it. That was, until you swatted his chest and he burst into laughter, drawing the attention of a group of teenagers who eyed him as they walked by. Their lingering stare meant nothing to him when he stood at your side.

When you reached the VA, you pushed open the door, considering his hand was otherwise occupied, and led him inside. There were dozens of people in the lobby, certainly more than he’d ever seen inside. Men and women were mingling around the tables, some sitting on the couches, with paper plates of cheese and crackers from the grocery store.

Tony stumbled by carrying about four boxes filled with cookies, barely keeping his balance.

“I could use a little help, kid!” he called, eyeing you as he frantically made his way to the kitchen.

“Coming, Tony!” You turned to Bucky, smile still present on your face as you ran a hand along his arm in comforting sweeps. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Go.”

Maybe if he looked close enough, he might have seen a well of pride on your face, but you didn’t give him the chance before you leaned up and pressed a kiss straight to his lips— no cares for the crowd in the room or the fact that Sam and Steve were lingering around the VA somewhere. Bucky couldn’t find it in himself to worry about the stares because, hell, maybe he wanted people to know you were the woman he had the privilege of kissing.

“Go,” Bucky said again, pulling away from you reluctantly as a clanging could be heard from the kitchen, followed by an aggravated moan which could have only belonged to Tony Stark. You pouted, stealing one last kiss before bolting down the hall and out of sight.

Bucky spent a few extra seconds staring down the end of the empty hallway before he turned back to the room. The crowd didn’t bother him as much as it might have a few months earlier. He didn’t feel the same rush of anxiety in his veins as he felt on busy streets, but it didn’t mean he was explicitly comfortable either.

So, he kept to the outskirts of the room, standing along the wall and observing quietly from the corners.

The event seemed to be going well. He’d spotted Steve mingling with a group of older guys with long white beards and biker jackets, laughing as they told him about their adventures biking cross country. Sam found his way over to the couch beside a few of the guests who had busied themselves with the food instead and even found a way to get them talking to one another. Bucky kept his hand pressed into his pocket, a semblance of a smile on his face as he watched Sam pick a chip of the plate of the woman he was talking to without reservation.

It was a good place. A respite. Just like Sam had told him it would be. Bucky found a sense of normalcy in this building he couldn’t have hoped to find out in the real world alone— a belonging – and he knew a lot of that had to do with you.

He was just about to head down to the kitchen to see if you needed any help when he heard a voice that ran like ice through his veins. What it had said was indistinguishable, but Bucky could recognize the thick grovel of the tone almost anywhere. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, trying to remain as small as possible, as he spotted Jack Rollins emerging from the entrance.

With slicked jet-black hair, hardened angular lines upon his face, and a permanent scowl etching down on his features, Jack Rollins was not a man Bucky ever wanted to see again. He spoke with the two men in his wake, gesturing to a woman who was standing quietly by herself, reading the flyers on the bulletin board, as if he were stalking prey.

Bucky’s heart was thunderous as he took a step back. His black slammed against the wall, catching the breath in his lungs. His fingertips brushed over the chill of the pealing wallpaper, trying to find his grounding before Rollins noticed he was there. But luck was never so kind to him.

It only took one scan of the room before Rollin’s eyes landed on Bucky. He stilled, just as surprised to see him, but then, something dark twisted upon his features.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he called over the crowd, a jeering sort of laugh in his voice.

Bucky gritted his teeth, forcing himself to meet Rollins in the eye. “Jack.”

“Been over a year, man. How you been?” Rollins was conversational only in statement. His tone was near threatening, his men following behind him like a shadow. Dark eyes trailed down along the empty sleeve on Bucky’s side, a smile rising on his face.

Bucky tried to pretend as though he didn’t notice. “Recovering. You?”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” Rollins chuckled. Then, he puffed his chest up. “I’ve been working for the private sector.”

That didn’t surprise him. Rollins always had an affinity for the darkest parts of the job overseas. He took too much pleasure in the use of his weapon, paid no mind to the destruction left behind in his wake. Rollins was exactly the sort of man the military hoped to produce; follow chain of command without question, find purpose in your mission, execute without remorse. Seemed he found more of the same when he returned home. Only this time for a bigger paycheck.

Bucky could still picture him dressed in army camouflage with the weight of near forty pounds of combat gear on his back, finger always on the trigger. It felt a bit like that now, Bucky realized, as Rollins narrowed his eyes as if he were going in for the kill.

“You know, Barnes,” Rollins shrugged, exchanging a snide grin with his friends, “I’m a little surprised you’d even show your face around here after what happened. Takes guts.”

Bucky swallowed as though there weren’t blades in his throat. He tried not to let the hitch in his breath show or how his stomach dropped about ten feet below the surface. Instead, he pressed his lips together into a thin line, holding Rollins’ stare as if he were made of stone.

“You should leave,” Bucky said, his voice low enough to break gravel.

“Me?” Rollins mocked, laughing as he turned to his friends. Then, facing Bucky again as a darkness clouded over his features. “That's rich, coming from you.”

Bucky held his breath. He tried to draw on images of you sitting across from him at Luciana’s, how you smiled at him, how you made him feel like he didn’t carry such a heavy weight upon his back. He pictured you curled up next to him in your bed, imprints of the pillow on your cheeks and the covers pulled up tight to your chin. He imagined how your hand felt in his, how it brushed along his back, how your lips felt on his cheek, on his mouth.

But those pictures started to fade the longer Rollins stared at him, that devilish smirk upon his face as he ran a hand along his jawline, cracking his knuckles against the bone. Those comforting images of you sunk into the darkness, pulled from him somewhere far beyond where he could reach and suddenly, he felt like he was standing on a pillar at the center of the ocean, nothing but violent waves surrounding him for miles. Alone.

“I mean, what the fuck are you doing here, Barnes?” Rollins jeered, picking up a cookie from the table, inspecting it for a moment before he tossed it back on the platter. It crumbled on impact. “You think you even deserve to step foot in this building after what you did?”

“It didn’t go down like you think,” Bucky shot back, his voice uneven, wavering, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

He tried to repeat the words that Sam had worked to instill in him again and again for months after he came home. They never seemed to stick until the last few weeks but now – now they felt as far away as ever.

I did everything I could.

Some things are outside of my control.

It wasn’t my fault.

He wasn’t sure he believed that with Jack Rollins circling around him like a vulture, amused by the distress quickly forming against Bucky’s features.

From across the room, Sam stood up from his place on the couch, a hand gesturing over to Steve as he caught sight of Rollins. Bucky retreated in his stance, feeling as though Rollins was towering over him, his chest caving in. Rollin smirked, teeth bared and ready to strike.

With venom like precision, Rollins spat, “You’re the reason half our unit is dead, asshole.”

It hit like a sucker punch to the gut, made him stumbled back a few paces as if he were clocked in the chest. The initial blow only lasted for a few seconds before the overwhelming sense of shame seeped back into his veins, slipping through his blood like muddied waters and stealing away the careful, steady progress he’d made.

Then, a lingering acceptance as it cleared him to the surface.

A numbness took over, casting back to the shadows inside his mind. It was what he’d been waiting for since the day he’d stepped foot off that plane – for someone to confirm all the destruction and self-loathing he’d felt since that day.

Rollins was right.

I could have saved them.

I could have prevented all of it.

It was my fault.

He’d been foolish to convince himself otherwise.

“Hey!” Sam barked, jutting out in front of Bucky and shoving a hand to the middle of Rollin’s chest as he attempted to draw closer. “What the fuck is your problem, man?”

“My problem? My problem is you’re letting just about anyone walk through those doors!” Rollins shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Bucky. “Your buddy here is responsible for eight of our own coming home in caskets!”

Bucky flinched, visibly recoiling as if something had burned him, and it seemed to be the reaction Rollins was looking for because a snide grin slid up along his cheeks.

Steve was suddenly on his left, a hand pressed to his shoulder. He was whispering something in his ear, but he couldn’t quite hear him. He could hardly make out what Sam was shouting as he attempted to push Rollins towards the door. A crowd was gathering – standing in watch to observe the shame of a soldier who should have burned in the desert with his friends.

“What’s going on?”

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sound of your voice as you appeared on his right. He didn’t know how long you’d been there or what you heard, but it was the first time he ever regretted allowing himself the luxury of your presence, of your warmth and kindness. You should have been an anchor beside him, but he could feel the rope slipping from his grip, letting him sink down into the ocean or float high into the clouds – somewhere far away from where you were.

You ran your hand along his arm, trying to thread an ounce of comfort back into his body, but he was rigid as stone. The touch was paralyzing. It was a reminder of his emptiness, of his ill attempt to be worthy of your affection. You seemed to notice as you stared up at him, worry filling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’ve got a girl now, too?” Rollins sneered towards Bucky, shoving Sam aside.

“Leave her out of this,” Bucky warned, his voice returning to him only in your defense. He stepped out in front of you, shielding you from Rollins’ gaze.

It only seemed to amuse him more. “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like? I mean, can he even get the job done? You wanna try being with a real man again?”

It was Sam that roared in response. “Watch your fucking mouth!”

Your hand rested on Bucky’s shoulder blades as if you were trying to ease him but he felt like he was on fire. Rollins shoved Sam aside to get a better look at you, a predator going in for the kill.

Rollins’ cold eyes stared directly into yours and Bucky felt his breathing stop.

“Did you know half of our unit died under his watch?”

Everything became white noise after that. Bucky didn’t dare turn to look at your reaction, nor could he hear Sam’s defense or Steve’s angry shouts as Rollins continued his taunts. He didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, Rollins was on the floor. Sam was shaking his hand out, holding his fist against his chest.

Rollins stumbled his way back to his feet with a vengeance, folding his hands into fists as he charged at Sam.

“Get him out of here!” Steve’s muffled voice called to you as the crowd began to swarm in. Former soldiers joining the chaos, cheering or barreling fists. A man bumped into Bucky’s shoulder, but there was no trace of a reaction on his face. He was empty. He was numb.

Bucky could vaguely feel your hand as you slipped it into his pocket, drawing his own to intertwine between your fingers and you tugged him down the hall. He knew better than to look over his shoulder at the mess he was leaving behind.

***

You took Bucky into the empty library, quickly closing the door behind you to muffle the sound of the shouting down the hall. Bucky stood at the head of the couch, his eyes downcast.

“Are you alright?” You knew there was no good answer. It was a foolish question. And still -- you asked.

Your hands slid along Bucky’s chest, up to his shoulders to try and draw some of the tension away, and for the first time, he recoiled under your touch. Your hands quickly dropped down to your sides as you took a few steps back, hands held tightly in front of you. A flash of remorse covered his features as he looked at you, but then the stone swept back in its place and hardened the softened edges you adored. You pushed aside the splinter inside your chest.

“Who was that guy anyway? He seems like a real piece of work.” You laughed, though it was tense and forced. Bucky didn’t so much as crack a smile.

It was silent for a moment. The only sound coming from the low hum of the radiator in the corner of the room. Bucky’s gaze was fixated on the carpet, staring at the years’ faded stains and the dust bunnies at the foot of the couch. A terrible aching tugging down on his lips, on his eyes, on his cheeks, and he barely resembled the man who had teased you over coffee at Luciana’s just an hour earlier.

“He was right, though.”

You swallowed, daring to ask, “what do you mean?”

“I'm the reason half my unit is dead,” Bucky replied flatly. When he looked at you again, you found his eyes were red, his lips swollen from chewing on the edges. His right hand had indents in his palm from where he’d dug his nails into the skin. Your stomach lurched.

“Oh, Bucky.” Your heart broke at the sight of him. “That... That can’t be true.”

He didn’t say anything, but the grit in his teeth was enough to tell you that he believed it. You’d only seen glimpses of how the war had touched him, how it cast shadows over the man he’d been before he stepped on that plane and adorned the uniform, but now – now, it felt like those shadows had consumed him whole. He couldn’t so much as see the soft rise of the sun over his shoulder. He was too swept up in the embrace of darkness. The light couldn’t touch him where he stood shielded by night.

“Why don’t we go to my place?” you offered, inching a step closer. When he didn’t retreat, you gathered his hand into your own. While he didn’t pull away again, you could feel the reluctance in his grip, the rigidity in his stance. “I can make dinner and we'll throw on a movie, okay? Let’s just get out of here.”

Your right hand slid along the side of his face, cupping at his cheek. He usually leaned into the touch, pressed a kiss to the inside of your palm. Instead, the most he could force out was a tight-lipped smile that did not touch his eyes. You could practically feel how hard he was clenching his jaw, the muscle tired and aching. Still, he nodded.

As you led him out the back exit of the VA, you glanced behind you to see Rollins sitting on the floor, nursing a bloody nose as a police officer stood over him, jotting down notes as he spoke with Steve. Sam caught your eye for a second, nodding in your direction. A relief washed through you and you tugged Bucky outside before anyone could notice him slip out.

It was silent the whole walk to your apartment. It wasn’t entirely unusual, but it was the first time the air carried a lingering sense of discomfort in it. You wondered what was going on in Bucky’s head, how badly he’d construed whatever Rollins had said to him, even before you arrived. Sam had told you of Bucky’s self-destructive habit of carrying guilt far heavier than he could carry, guilt that didn’t belong to him. He seemed to welcome it like it was made for him. He didn’t mind if it ripped him apart and left him broken and empty when it was done. He seemed to think it was what he deserved.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it might draw back a sense of comfort, but he kept his eyes forward on the empty streets ahead. His hand was little more than limp in your hold.

***

Bucky was just on the edge of sleep when it began to creep up on him. Slow at first, and then, sudden, in violent flashes.

Sweltering heat. The low rumble of a jeep. An infectious laugh on his left and the cold compress of a gun in his hands. A sudden stop.

Bucky gritted his teeth, trying to turn away from the images attempting to draw him under, to sweep him beyond the current, to drown him in the darkest parts of the depth. But the riptide caught hold of his leg and forced him underwater.

Heavy equipment on his back. Sand under his feet. The sun blinding in his eyes.

He swallowed, but his throat was lined in rust. It burned. He couldn’t breathe.

A reflection over a valley. Someone shouting. Screaming. Warning. Frantic.

The kid. Get to the kid!

Then – the heat of a fire scorching his skin. Ringing in his ears. Muffled. Agonizing silence. Blood on the sand, on his shoes, dripping down his side and soaking into his uniform.

Pain. So much pain. So much pain. So much—

Bucky’s eyes shot open. He sucked in a breath of air and it came in short and shallow, barely filling his lungs, and he was panting for more. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, gasping for breath until he took enough in that the dizziness started to subside. His forehead was lined in sweat, his right hand shaking uncontrollably as he gripped at the sheets.

It was as mild as it’s ever been – the nightmares. Usually, he woke up screaming, his voice so raw it ached until morning. He thrashed and kicked and drew blood until something finally jarred him awake. He’d broken the lamp beside his bed four times in the weeks after he came home. It was violent and messy, and it was a damn miracle he’d only felt a sliver of it tonight.

But it had been so long since he had one. He almost thought they had finally released him from their hold before Rollins showed up. For a while, they let him be happy. He should have known better than to expect it to last.

The mattress dipped slightly behind him and with a sharp hilt, Bucky suddenly remembered where he was.

He turned over his shoulder to find you laying on the bed beside him, hair cast up and around you against the pillow, eyes closed, the steady rhythm of your breaths indicating you were still fast asleep. He stilled for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the light scrunch in your nose.

You’d tried so hard to get him to smile the whole evening after what happened at the VA. Constant touches to his cheeks, along his arm, playing absentmindedly with his hand. You made him dinner and curled up against him as you put on a movie that you were certain would turn his mood around, but he remained stoic and cold until you finally resigned to the bedroom.

He could tell how exhausted you were. Even reaching for his hand, there was a helplessness in your grasp, but you’d begged him to stay, insisting you didn’t want him to be alone after what happened at the VA. You held him tight to your chest, told him over and over again that you didn’t care what Rollins said, you knew he was a good man and that was all that mattered.

Bucky wanted so badly to believe that.

But here you were – so beautiful, a light, something good in his life he didn’t deserve.

Sam would kill him for giving into those thoughts again, but all he had in his head was violence and agony and there you were – so peaceful and soft and kind. He'd taint you with all the mess threatening to break through his seams. He’d hurt you. He'd break you. You couldn’t hold him together no matter how hard you tried. He didn’t deserve such kindness. Today reminded him of that.

Bucky leaned in and pressed a short kiss to your temple. It was feather light and still, you sighed in your sleep. He tried not to notice when the corners of your lips curved up into a smile.

Then, he crept out of the room, stealing one last look at you as you turned onto your side, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Something tugged inside his chest, begging him to stay. He could feel it pushing him back toward the bed, to your embrace and the comfort it brought, but he turned his back. He ignored his every instinct to return to your side and dragged his feet of the bedroom instead.

Despite his reluctance, he found himself lingering on the photograph in your hallway of the Air Force pilot; sandy blonde hair, a tight-lipped smile, features that made him look younger than he probably was. A pang of jealousy wretched into his stomach at the sight of this nameless man. Shame quickly followed.

You never spoke of the man in the photo – the nameless Air Force pilot who stood at your side in front of your parents. The way you pressed out a smile despite your tears, the position of your stance angled closer to the pilot as if to preserve your last remaining moments together, made Bucky question what had happened to this man. This was clearly a man you had loved. Might still love.

Bucky didn’t dare allow himself to wonder if he had ever measured up. He supposed now he would not get the chance.

Bucky let out a sigh as he turned away from the picture. He made it all the way to the door before he heard the squeak of the floor boards behind him.

“Bucky?”

Sleep was still etched in your voice. You yawned as you folded your arms, squinting at him to adjust to the dim light in the kitchen. Bucky clenched his jaw, reluctantly turning to face you.

“It’s the middle of the night,” you said, eyes flickering to the clock above the stove. It was then you must have noticed the jacket draped over his shoulders, boots on his feet, hand begrudgingly releasing the door knob. Your face fell. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t know what to say. Was there an easy way to break your heart? Was there any excuse that could allow both of you to walk away from this unharmed? There was no good answer, but his silence certainly was worse.

“Bucky?” you tried again and he could hear the inflection of concern etched into your tone. You took a step closer to him and he held himself firm. He was stone now. It was what he had to be.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered out, voice low, though he met your eye. “I can’t do this.”

If you were still half asleep a moment ago, you weren’t anymore. Your eyes widened, lips parting. Your arms fell down to your sides.

“What... What are you talking about?” you exhaled, barely above a whisper. He could hear the hurt in your voice, the confusion, and he hated himself for it. You stepped closer, reaching out for his hand. “Please, just come back to bed. You look like you haven't slept for—”

Bucky pulled his hand away the moment you touched his fingers. It forced a hitch in your breath, a step back. You hadn’t expected him to recoil from you like that. Two times in the same day. You were losing him, the realization clear in your eyes. He was slipping and he would not take the tether as you threw it to him.

“This is about what that man said at the VA, isn’t it?” you asked timidly, your lip quivering. You shook your head, trying to hold back tears though Bucky could practically hear the tension from the lump in your throat. “He was... he was just being cruel. I don’t believe a word of it. And neither does Sam or Steve – the people that love you, Bucky. Don’t give in into him. Don’t let him win.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, rendering his reaction colder than you deserved.

You reached out for him again, a habit, though you pulled your hand back to your chest before you could touch him. It was shaking.

“Honey, please,” you tried again, unwilling to give up on him like you should. “Come get some rest and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning. Just... don’t go. Don’t be alone with this.”

You were begging. He could hear it in your voice. The desperation. And still—Bucky offered you nothing in return.

He sank so far inside himself you couldn’t reach beyond the cliffside to offer your hand. All it took was a single push. He was already standing so close to the edge. Rollins had set a hand on his back, like an old friend, like an enemy, and shoved. Bucky didn’t even try to catch his fall.

“Whatever this is...” Bucky murmured and eyes focused down at the tile, unable to look at you as he broke your heart, “it’s over.”

His heart was splintering as he said it and still, he turned and left without another word. He didn’t wait for your response, didn’t wait to see whether his cruelty had ended in tears, and closed the door behind him. You didn’t attempt to follow.

You’d understand eventually, he convinced himself. Even a woman as compassionate and loving as you couldn't possibly love a man so broken, with jagged edges and open wounds, with shards of glass embedded inside him and poison in his touch. Empty and hollow. Broken.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes

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kinga-of-queens · 3 years

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Hia dears

Wanted to draw something more dramatic this week, it’s been a while since I did my interpretation-of-Gods wallpaper, so this week we have Perun wallpaper.

Also an reminder that I’m live-streaming this Thursday, 16th September at 14:00 UTC +01, on my Facebook page, so hope to see you there 💜

Papatki~

#slavorum #slavic #slavicgod #pagan #perun #thunder #lighting #war #warrior #digitalart #artistsoninstagram #kingaofqueens #polishartist #characterdesign #scottishartist #illustration #myart #digitaldrawing #artoftheday #ametureartist #cartoonstyle #instaart #characterdesign #design #wallpaper #phonewallpaper #freewallpaper

#kinga-of-queens #my art #digital art #polish artist #slavic #folk #perun #slavic myths #slavic gods #slavic mythology #slavic folklore #thunder #pagan #art of day

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casxmorgan · 3 years

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Books Books Books

100 Years of Solitude

11.22.63

120 Days of Sodom

1491

1984

A Brief History of Time

A Canticle for Leibowitz

A Child Called It

A Clockwork Orange

A Confederacy of Dunces

A History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters

A Land Fit for Heroes Trilogy

A Little Life

A Naked Singularity

A People's History of the United States

A Scanner Darkly

A Series of Unfortunate Events

A Short History of Nearly Everything

A Song of Ice and Fire

A Storm of Swords

A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again: Essays and Arguments

A Thousand Splendid Suns

A Walk in the Woods

A World Lit Only by Fire

Accursed Kings

Alice in Wonderland

All Quiet on the Western Front

All the Light We Cannot See

All the Pretty Horses

America, the Book

American Gods

American Psycho

And then There Were None

Angela’s Ashes

Animal Farm

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

Anna Karenina

Anything Terry Pratchett, But, Mort is My Favorite

Anything Written by Robin Hobb

Apt Pupil

Artemis Fowl

Asimov's Guide to the Bible

Asoiaf

Atlas Shrugged

Bartimeaus

Batman: the Long Halloween

Battle Royale

Beat the Turtle Drum

Behind the Beautiful Forevers

Belgariad Series

Beloved

Berserk

Bestiario

Black Company

Blankets/habibi

Blind Faith

Blindness

Blood Meridian

Blood and Guts: a History of Surgery

Bluest Eye

Brandon Sanderson

Brave New World

Breakfast of Champions

Bridge to Terabithia

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: an Indian History of the American West

Calvin and Hobbs

Candide

Carrie

Cat's Cradle

Catch 22

Cats Cradle

Chaos

Child of God

Choke

Chuck Palahniuk

City of Ember

City of Thieves

Cloud

Collapse

Come Closer

Complaint

Confessions of a Mask

Contact

Conversation in the Cathedral

Cosmos

Crime and Punishment

Dan Brown

David

Dead Birds Singing

Dead Mountain: the Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident

Delta Venus

Die Räuber (the Robbers)

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

Don Quixote

Dragonlance

Dune

Dying of the Light

East of Eden

Educated

Empire of Sin: a Story of Sex, Jazz, Murder, and the Battle for Modern New Orleans

Enders Game

Enders Shadow

Escape from Camp 14

Ever Since Darwin

Every Man Dies Alone

Everybody Poops

Everything is Illuminated

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Fahrenheit 451

Far from the Madding Crowd

Faust

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S Thompson

Feet of Clay

Fight Club

First Law

Flowers for Algernon

Flowers in the Attic

Foundation

Foundation Series

Foundation Trilogy

Frankenstein

Freakonomics

Fun Home

Galapagos

Geek Love

Gerald’s Game

Ghost Story

Go Ask Alice

Go Dog Go

Godel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid

Goldfinch

Gone Girl

Gone with the Wind

Good Omens

Grapes of Wrath

Great Expectations

Greg Egan

Guards! Guards!

Guns Germs and Steel

Guts (short Story)

Half a World

Ham on Rye

Hannibal Rising

Hard Boiled Wonderland

Hatchet

Haunted

Hawaii

Heart Shaped Box

Heart of Darkness

Hellbound Heart

Hellraiser

Hell’s Angels

Helter Skelter

His Dark Materials

Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

Hogg

Holocaust by Bullets

House of Leaves

How to Cook for Fourty Humans

How to Win Friends and Influence People

Huckleberry Finn

Hyperion

I Am America, and So Can You

I Am the Messenger

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

I Was Dr. Mengele’s Assistant

In Cold Blood

In Search of Our Mother's Gardens

Independent People

Infinite Jest

Into Thin Air

Into the Wild

Introduction to Linear Algebra

Invisible Monsters

Ishmael

Jacques Le Fataliste

Jane Eyre

Jaunt

Job: a Comedy of Justice

John Dies at the End

John Grisham

Johnathan Livingston Seagull

Johnny Got His Gun

Jon Ronson

Journal of a Novel

Jurassic Park

Justine

L'histoire D'o

Lamb

Last Exit to Brooklyn

Les Miserables

Lies My Teacher Told Me

Life of Pi

Limits and Renewals

Little House in the Big Woods

Lockwood & Co.

Lolita

Looking for Trouble

Lord Foul’s Bane

Lord of the Flies

Lyddie

Malazan Book of the Fallen

Maldoror

Manufacturing Consent: the Political Economy of the Mass Media

Man’s Search for Meaning

Mark Twain’s Autobiography

Maus

Meditations

Megamorphs (series)

Mein Kampf

Memnooch the Devil

Metro 2033

Michael Crichton

Middlesex

Mindhunter

Misery

Mistborn

Moby Dick

Mrs. Dalloway

My Side of the Mountain

My Sweet Audrina

Nacht über Der Prärie (night over the Prairie)

Naked Lunch

Name of the Wind

Neuromancer

Never Let Me Go

Neverwhere

New York

Night

Night Shift

Norwegian Wood

Notes from Underground

Nothing to Envy: Real Lives in North Korea

Of Mice and Men

Of Nightingales That Weep

Ohio

Old Mans War

Old Mother West Wind

On Heroes and Tombs

On Laughter and Forgetting

On the Road

One Flew over the Cuckoos Nest

One Hundred Years of Solitude

One of Us

Painted Bird

Patrick Rothfuss

Perfume: the Story of a Murderer

Persepolis

Pet Sematary

Peter Pan

Pillars of the Earth

Poisonwood Bible

Pride and Predjudice

Ready Player One

Rebecca

Red Mars

Red Night (series)

Red Shirts

Red Storm Rising

Redwall

Replay

Requiem for a Dream

Revenge

Riftwar Saga

Ringworld

Roald Dahl

Rolls of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Round Ireland with a Fridge

Running with Scissors

Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes

Sapiens, a Brief History of Humankind

Scary Stories to Read in the Dark

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Schindler’s List

Sein Und Zeit

Shades of Grey

Sharp Objects

Shattered Dreams

Sherlock Holmes

Sho-gun

Siddhartha

Sisypho

Skin and Other Stories

Slaughterhouse Five

Smoke & Mirrors

Snow Crash

Soldier Son

Sometimes a Great Notion

Sphere

Starship Troopers

Stiff, the Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Storied Life of A.j. Fikry

Stormlight Archives

Story of the Eye

Stranger in a Strange Land

Surely, You're Joking

Survivor Type (short Story)

Suttree

Swan Song

Tale of Two Cities

Tales of the South Pacific

The Alchemist

The Altered Carbon Trilogy

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

The Art of Deception

The Art of Fielding

The Art of War

The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation

The Autobiography of Henry Viii

The Autobiography of Malcolm X

The Beach

The Bell Jar

The Bible

The Bloody Chamber

The Book Thief

The Boy in the Striped Pajamas

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

The Brothers Karamazov

The Call of Cthulu and Other Weird Stories

The Cask of Amontillado (short Story)

The Catcher in the Rye

The Chronicles of Narnia

The Clown

The Color out of Space

The Communist Manifesto

The Complete Fiction of H.p. Lovecraft

The Count of Monte Cristo

The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night Time

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime

The Dagger and the Coin

The Damage Done

The Dark Tower

The Declaration of Independence, the Us Constitution, and the Bill of Rights

The Devil in the White City

The Dharma Bums

The Diamond Age

The Dice Man

The Discworld Series

The Dresden Files

The Elegant Universe

The First Law Trilogy

The Forever War

The Foundation Trilogy

The Gentleman Bastard Sequence

The Geography of Nowhere

The Girl Next Door

The Girl on the Milk Carton

The Giver

The Giving Tree

The God of Small Things

The Grapes of Wrath

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gilly Hopkins

The Hagakure

The Half a World Trilogy

The Handmaid’s Tale

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

The Hiding Place

The History of Love

The Hobbit

The Hot Zone

The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Hyperion Cantos

The Jaunt

The Jungle

The Key to Midnight

The Killing Star

The Kingkiller Chronicles

The Kite Runner

The Last Question (short Story)

The Lies of Lock Lamora

The Little Prince

The Long Walk

The Lord of the Rings

The Lottery (short Story)

The Lovely Bones

The Magicians

The Magus

The Martian

The Master and Margarita

The Metamorphosis of Prime Intellect

The Monster at the End of This Book

The Moon is a Harsh Mistress

The Music of Eric Zahn (short Story)

The Name of the Wind & the Wise Man's Fear

The Necronomicon

The New Age of Adventure: Ten Years of Great Writing

The Night Circus

The Nightmare Box

The Odyssey

The Omnivore's Dilemma

The Orphan Master’s Son

The Outsiders

The Painted Bird

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

The Phantom Tollbooth

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Pit and the Pendulum

The Plague

The Prince

The Prince of Tides

The Princess Bride

The Prophet

The Queen’s Gambit

The Rape of Nanking

The Red Dwarf

The Republic

The Rifter Saga

The Road

The Satanic Verses

The Screwtape Letters

The Secret History

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel

The Selfish Gene

The Shining

The Shrine of Jeffrey Dahmer

The Silmarillion

The Sirens of Titan

The Six Wives of Henry the 8th

The Solitude of Prime Numbers

The Speaker of the Dead

The Stars My Destination

The Stormlight Archive

The Story of My Tits

The Stranger

The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck

The Suspicions of Mr. Witcher

The Tao of Pooh

The Things They Carried

The Time Machine

The Time Traveller’s Wife

The Tin Drum

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

The Unthinkable Thoughts of Jacob Green

The Wasp Factory

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle

The World According to Garp

The Yellow Wallpaper

Their Eyes Were Watching God

Things Fall Apart

Thirsty

This Blinding Absence of Light

Tiger!

Time Enough for Love

To Kill a Mockingbird

To Say Nothing of the Dog

Toni Morrison

Too Many Magicians

Traumnovelle

Tuesdays with Morrie

Tuf Voyaging

Undeniable

Under Plum Lake

Universe in a Nutshell

Unwind

Uzumaki

Various

Village Life in Late Tsarist Russia

Walden

War & Peace

War and Peace

Warriors: Bluestar’s Prophecy

Watchers

Water for Elephants

Watership Down

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

We Need to Talk About Kevin

Wheel of Time

When Rabbit Howls

Where the Red Fern Grows

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Why I Am Not a Christian

Why People Believe Weird Things

Wizards First Rule

Wool

World War Z

Worm

Wuthering Heights

You Can Choose to Be Happy

Zen & the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

#some of these are fucked up #but #all the better

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wallpapers4freexd · 7 years

Photo

#wallpaper #war thunder #gaming

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weasleytwinwheezes · 4 years

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i wanna get better | GW | part 2

Summary: After accepting an invitation to Ron’s birthday, Y/N Black returns back to the Burrow after 10 months. She’s pushed by Molly to go see George who has been holed up in his childhood bedroom since Freds funeral.

Word Count: 1.8k

Authors Note: this HURT me and HEALED me. Post-war George makes me so sad to write but here it is. I’ve also decided that this will be a 3 part series, but I’m planning on leaving the ending open in case I later want to come back

Warnings: mentions of death, slight fluff

Part 2/?

part one

~tag list~

@auggie2000 @anxious-alto @painfullyravenclaw

Missus Y/N Black

Number 12 Grimmauld Place

Claremont Square

London, England

You are cordially invited to a celebration of the Nineteenth

birthday of

Ronald Bilius Weasley!

On the 1st of March 1999 at 7pm

At The Burrow

With love,

The Weasleys

You stared at the invitation that had been clipped to the fridge for the last week. Truthfully, you hadn’t decided whether or not you were even going to go. Mentally slapping yourself for agreeing to come in the first place, you momentarily considered feigning sickness to get out of it. Although, you knew that would just result in Molly rushing over to care for you. With a long sigh, you wandered throughout the reset of the house. A month had passed and you were quite proud of the progress you had made on the dreary interior of the house. The dark muted wallpaper had been replaced with cream and robin egg blue paint. You worked hard to restore the hardwood floor to its former glory, ridding it of the dust that collected during its time abandoned. New furniture covered the sitting room and a landscape painting of Hogwarts replaced the spot the Black family tapestry once hung. However the thing you were most proud of, was tearing down the portrait of Walburga Black. Now guests would no longer be subjected to the screaming of your Grandmother. Despite her use of the Permanent Sticking Charm, you had the entire wall knocked out and rebuilt. Now her painting laid at the bottom of a landfill, her screaming unable to be heard.

Finally making your way upstairs, you found yourself staring into your wardrobe. Truthfully, you knew it didn’t matter what you wore. Molly would be over the moon that you even showed up. Giving in, you grabbed a cream cardigan and black blouse. Nice but still cozy enough to keep you warm in the crisp, spring air. Taming your wild hair, you grabbed the card you bought for Ron and apparated to your destination.

___________________________

Apparating at the end of the stone path, you gazed upward at the house in front of you. The house that had offered you warmth for so many years, looked darker than usual. Memories of playing quidditch in the field and throwing snowballs from the roof ran through your head. You hadn’t been here since the funeral and the reminder of that hit you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes shifted to the willow tree that stood above the edge of the murky pond. You knew if you walked closer you’d see the headstone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You turned your gaze back to the door ahead of you, pushing your body up the path. It seemed as though your presence had already been noted, seeing as you barely lifted your hand to knock when the wood door swung open.

With her hair as bushy as ever, Hermione wrapped you in a hug, “Y/N! You’re here! You’re actually here! We were worried we wouldn’t see you! I’m so happy you’re here!”

With each word, you felt yourself grip her tighter. You hadn’t seen the younger witch in so long, that you almost forgot the comfort she brings. Pulling away you smiled at her as your eyes scanned around the room. Filled to the brim with Weasleys, you spotted Harry and Teddy cozied up beside the roaring fire. For the first time in months, a genuine smile came to your lips as you gazed around the room. The Burrow looked as it always did, the only thing missing was the sound of mischievous laughing and the thunder of footsteps on the stairs. Catching the eye of Molly, you made your way towards her.

“Y/N dear! I’m so glad you made it! I was beginning to think I’d have to send Ron for you!” she chuckled, pulling you into a quick hug.

“I’m sorry I didn’t send an owl with my response! I’ve been so busy renovating, I must have slipped my mind,” you apologized, “Also I got a card for Ron! I’m not sure where to put it.”

Taking it from you she looked about the room, a sad smile stretching across her face. “You know, this is the first real celebration since the funeral. The holidays were too rough to face last year. I just wish George would come down from their room.”

“He’s here? George is here? Not at the flat above the shop?” you questioned.

“Merlin, no. He moved back in after the funeral. Says the flat is too much, it reminds him of him. The entire shop is, it wouldn’t even be up and running if Ron didn’t force him to let him help. Poor boy hardly even talks to us he just works, eats, and goes straight up there,” she confided in you.

A sudden pang hit your heart. You couldn’t bear to think of George holed up in their childhood bedroom. You thought of all the late nights you spent with them, testing new products and sneaking firewhiskey. The idea of him up there alone, seemed so foreign to you. Never had you ever seen just one Weasley twin in there.

“You know if you went up, you might be able to talk him into coming down for dinner,” she suggested, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“I don’t know Molly. I haven’t spoken to him in months, he might not even want to speak to me,” you replied anxiously.

“Oh honey, he would love to see you. If anything else, you’re one of the last pieces of Fred he has,” she comforted.

Her words were like a slap to the face. How could you have been so blind? How could you have gone 10 months avoiding the one person who shared in the loss you felt? What best friend would do that? Tears stung at the corner of your eyes as you lifted them to the stairs. Turning to face Molly, you gave her a nod before making your way towards the stairs.

____________________________

You weren’t sure how long you had been standing outside of Georges bedroom door, staring at the posters and photos that littered the outside of it. Smiling as you looked at the Weird Sisters poster, thinking of how the three of you danced the night away at the Yule Ball. The door held the first batch of Weasley Wizard Wheezes scratch and sniff stickers, grimacing at the rotten egg scented one. After studying the door for at least ten minutes, you half-heartedly knocked on the door. A small groan was all of an answer the man on the opposite side gave you.

Quietly opening the door, you were faced with a sight that made your heart drop. George laid face down, in Freds bed. Clothes were strewn around the room and the mirror that sat above the dresser had been covered. Slowly clearing a spot on the empty bed, you sat down. Looking at George, you saw he hadn’t moved a muscle. You honestly were not even sure that he knew someone had entered the room.

“Hey Georgie,” you spoke softly, watching his every move.

Watching as the muscles in his back tensed, he shifted slightly to face you. Eyes wide, he reached out a hand. Placing your small hand in his large one, you were surprised when he yanked you into the small bed with him. Arms wrapped around you, you heard a small sob escape the lanky man. Turning to face him, you let him burrow himself into you. Stroking his hair, you thought of the nights building up to the Battle. You had found yourself huddled up in the twins shop, sharing a bed with George. You were reminded of the fear that encased you that only he seemed to cease. Now it was your turn to help him.

“I’m sorry George. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I’m sorry I ran back to Grimmauld Place and hid away from everyone. It wasn’t fair to you and it wasn’t fair to Fred. You deserved to have someone here for you and I fled at the first chance. Everyday I’m reminded that I’m the one who sent him back into the school and everyday I hate myself for it. I’m just so damn sorry,” you choked out, tears trailing down your cheeks.

The arms around you tightened with your words and you wanted nothing more than to hear his voice. Seeming as though he heard your thoughts he pulled away to face you.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N,” he whispered out, “I missed you.”

“Oh love, I missed you too,” you cried out. Staring at his tear stained face, you shot him a sad smile.

“It really isn’t. Don’t ever think that. He knew the risks when he went in and he wouldn’t want you to think that way,” he spoke aloud, wiping the tears from your face.

The two of you laid there for what felt like hours, relaxing in the forgotten comfort of the other. Every creak in the house had you on edge, thinking Fred would burst in on the two of you at any moment. You know he’d make a big scene about how you chose the ‘less attractive twin’ and feign hurt at ‘the two of you sneaking around behind his back’.

Noticing the sorrowful look that had come over your face George broke the silence, “What’s going on in that big head of yours?”

“I’m just thinking about Fred and how he would tease the hell out of us for being in the same bed,” you replied.

You watched as his face lit up at your words and his loud laugh filled the quiet room. Your heart leaped at the sound of it, relishing in the small happiness of him.

“He’d definitely give us hell for it, that’s for sure,” he chuckled out.

Laughing, you pulled your arms from his lanky ones and sat up on the bed. Looking at the messy redhead you all but whispered, “Would it be crazy if I had the idea that we go downstairs for dinner? Of course you wouldn’t have to stay long! I’m just not too sure if I can face it without you.”

Scanning his face for any flicker of emotion, you were surprised when he suddenly started to stand up. Pullings yourself off of the bed, you faced him. You made your way to the door before you reached your hand out towards him.

“We don’t have to do this alone George. Together?” you spoke.

Grabbing a hold of your outstretched hand he whispered, “Together.”

__________________________

Walking down the last few stairs, you were surprised when the room went quiet. You watched as everyone looked at you, then at George, before finally settling at your hands interlocked. Looking upwards at Molly, you saw a smile come to her face. She seemed to cherish the small moment before clapping her hands and loudly saying, “Alright everyone! Take your seats! It’s time for dinner.”

Making your way towards the long table, George squeezed your hand. All that matters right now, is whatever the two of you face. It would be together.

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