President Zelensky speaking to the House of Commons quoting Shakespeare and Churchill.
Smooth, sir.
Very smooth.
And after his address to Congress, I’ll raise that “smooth” to “brilliant”…
Referenced or quoted: Mount Rushmore, Pearl Harbor, September 11, Dr.King
Really, sir?!
And THEN switching to English after showing that gut-wrenching video?
Brilliant appeal. Brilliant rhetorical strategy.
What a leader.
“Strong doesn’t mean big.”
header by @luna-aestas
AU Walter Marshall x Plus Sized OFC (Irene)
Word Count: approx 6.5k
Warnings: Language pretty much… mention of ghosts? I got nothing.
Author’s note: Thank you, thank you, thank you to @amandalove for always making me look smarter than I am and @luna-aestas for being the best bitch with a mood board - You guys are my enablers and I can’t thank you enough for all your help and constant support. I love you.
divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics
Y’all. I don’t own shit. Walter, Nomis/Night Hunter, my car, my pride, nothing. I’m just playing around….a portion of the Welsh Lullaby - Suo Gan is included in here - I obviously don’t own that either.
As always, please let me know if you want on or off my tag list - I only have one and I leave you on it until you request to be taken off :)
18+ only please - minors please for the love of Pete, do not interact with my shit.
Please do not share my work on other platforms. Thank you!
Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four ~ Part Five ~ Part Six
I love this story so much. I have my thoughts why the barn lights don’t work!
summary: While on a stakeout in the heart of Russia, Bucky learns that touch can bring something more than pain and he will willingly give himself over to the ice if it means keeping you alive. pairing: Bucky x reader word count: 10.5k warnings: SMUT (18+), 🎶stake-me-out tonight🎶, some violence, near drowning, hypothermia, that good ol’ we-gotta-share-body-heat-or-you-might-die trope a/n: this was written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s follower celebration! My prompt was “have you been crying?” This clearly took on a whole life of its own…
Bucky didn’t care much for the cold. It always seemed to be more of a challenge to his mind than his body. It took him back to darker memories of enclosed spaces and lapses of time, to handlers barking orders and the electricity of the chair. Whenever a chill swept up his spine, he had to remind himself of who he was, had convince himself he was safe and not about to lose another decade under ice.
The serum pumping through his veins aided in keeping the shivers to a minimum and allowed him to tolerate more than most when it came to freezing temperatures but it didn’t make it any easier to sit in an unmarked car, deep into central Russia, watching as his breath left his lungs in small, isolated fogs.
He started to wonder why he ever agreed to take on a reconnaissance mission in a place where the icy cold of the air stung in his nose with each inhale. That was, until he heard the soft rustle of your jacket beside him as you yawned, readjusting your position, and he remembered.
He went for you.
This is just so beautiful
i see the younglings post things like "are you still on tumblr at 30?" and "go take care of your kids instead of reading fics"
and i just feel sad
because you have a bunch of young people who are terrified of getting older.
they think age is going to change them, into something boring, something different, something grey.
and i just want to tell them, reassure them:
you will still be the same person.
isn't it wonderful?
you will love the things you love for so many years. you will find joy in the same things, decade after decade. you will feel the same inside, through all this time.
yes, the body will change. yes there's more responsibilities, less time, even less energy.
but there's no magical age where you stop enjoying that specific story, that specific game, that specific hobby.
but you know what also comes with age?
you have less fucks to give.
I turn 50 in July. I had this HUGE list of things I had to do, that I absolutely KNEW I had to be, before I turned 30, or I was a total failure. I didn't do any of those things, and it didn't matter. I was CONVINCED that by the time I was 40, my life was basically over. All the fun stuff I liked, all the music I liked, the games I liked to play, all of it was done for some reason, and I would be a Boring Adult. ALL OF THIS IS BULLSHIT. I am here to tell you that when you get older, it's fucking AWESOME. You don't put up with anyone's bullshit. You figure out who deserves your time and attention, and you have the fucking BEST TIME EVER with them. All the time. I still play video games. I still go to concerts. I do everything I can to see and validate and celebrate young people when they come into my life, because I want an entire generation to know that the lies media and advertising tells you about life basically ending at 40 so you'd better buy all the shit they're selling you is GARBAGE. The older I get, the cooler and more awesome my life is. I am still the same punk rock weirdo I was when I was in my 20s, I'm just wiser and more comfortable in my own skin than I was then. Getting older did not do ANY of the things I believed it would do. If I may offer two pieces of advice on the small chance a younger person than me is reading this: take care of your core strength. When you hit middle age, your body is just weaker than it was, and it's easier to hurt yourself. It takes longer to recover from injury, and if I could change one thing, it would be paying more attention to my physical strength. And the only currency, the only thing the ultimately matters in our lives, is choosing to be kind. The world is a cruel place full of awful people. Don't be one of them.
It has been literal years but every time I see Martin’s tweets posted somewhere and his word is shared as truth while her post is not shared it sort of reiterates the fact that we trust men to speak about feminism more than we believe women who experience it.
Interesting, innit? https://medium.com/@nickyknacks/working-while-female-59a5de3ad266
Reading her account of how their boss treated her blows me away. Men are so emboldened that they will literally admit to illegal discrimination casually and face no consequences.
In all the years of seeing this post I’ve never seen a link to her side. Didn’t even know she’d written one.
Adding screenshots of her post. His whole post is there without needing a link. Hers should be, too.
Also, she posted this is 2017! It’s fucking 2020 and I’ve seen his side of this for years, but it took 3 years for her side to make its way to my dash…
First time I’ve seen her side of this. Share it.
Parts: 10/10
Words: 14.4k (yes, that’s not a typo)
Summary: When you first replied to a stray text message that was accidentally sent to you from an unknown number, you couldn’t have known who the virtual stanger on the other end was, or would be. You couldn’t have known that he was soon to become your very best friend and steady companion. You couldn’t have known that you would fall for him quite as deeply as you did. You couldn’t have known. After all, you had never even seen a glimpse of each other, nor heard the other’s voice. You only ever conversed through text messages, even if you did so every day and every night. You couldn’t have known that you would fall for a stranger, who you knew even better than yourself. Even if you did not know his name. Yet there is another question that remains unspoken: If you really are best friends and even live in the same city, why does he not want to meet you in person?
~virtual strangers to friends to lovers~
A.N.: What exactly are you getting from this story, you ask? An online friendship-turned-romance? Check. Flirting via texts? Check. Annoyed yet overly supportive publicist and friend Luke? Check. Literary references to classical literature and plays? Check. Bobby being adorable and a valid character in the story? Check. Just the right twinge of angst? Check. Humour? Check. Fluff? Check. Super long chapters because I just can’t be bothered to keep it short? Hell yeah.
Find Part 1 here! All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!
______________________________
“The thing is, darling… Looks can be very deceiving.” With that, Tom snatched the box of cake out of your hands and stood back in an instant, moving away from you and out of your reach only to sit down on the swing next to the one you had taken with a huge grin on his face. That little stunt had inevitably made his heart beat way too strongly now again, relentlessly trying to break free from his chest, but going by the delightful look on your face, it had been absolutely worth it.
Such a great ending! I loved this story so much 💗
hot shower or cold shower // texting or calling // earphones or headphones // paperback or hardcover // matte or gel // 12 hour clock or 24 hour clock // blue or green // sunsets or sunrises // tulips or orchids // candle light or moon light // sci-fi or horror // pen or pencil // pandas or koalas // gold or silver // sneakers or boots // denim jacket or leather jacket // pink or purple // wind chimes or dreamcatchers // chocolate or sour candy // deodrant or perfume // drive-in movie theatre or the cinema // pastel colours or neutral/earth tones // butterflies or honeybees // lemonade or iced tea // past or future // constellations or aurora borealis
From @nacho-bucky Tagging @imanuglywombat @mywritingsblog @bolontiku @brooklyn-boy and anyone else who wants to play
Summary: Cheery young aide Elle Andersen has a natural propensity for care and comfort, making her an ideal compatriot for Captain America, Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, and the rest of the ineffable Howling Commandos.
Warning(s): Language, war-related violence, character death; grief
Word Count: Approx. 13.5k
A/n: I am so excited to be posting this chapter! I’ve had the last paragraph written (particularly the last two lines) for about two years now, since October 2018. I hope you all enjoy!
In the amber cup of a reluctant dawn, Elle felt her own heart snap in two. It was an undramatic sensation, coming quietly, after days of suppressed weeping, of silent struggles to look upon an emptier life than she had once had enough hope to envision. Her heart broke after practicalities: a mission briefing, wherein she was forced to listen as her husband’s death was described in the most distant details. He was a stranger to her, in dying. The Bucky she knew could not have left; could not have lost his grip upon the train door. The thought of her Bucky, her James, her love, simply falling into the icy depths of that ravine – it was almost laughable.
But her heart broke just the same.
Pillow crushed beneath her, Elle curled upon his narrow bed, clutching his shirt to her – white, worn, half-hanging from the top of his dresser. He had been in a hurry to leave, she thought, with a fresh wave of agony. The bedroom around her was in a surprising state of disarray, and she wondered if his mind had been as muddled as the pile of clothes on the chair; as the book left splayed on the bed.
She searched for him in everything. Walking through his room on soft, bare feet. There were splotches of warmth on the floor; someone had lit a fire. But holding his shirt to her, and sliding her arms through the sleeves was the closest thing to a warm embrace she could grasp now. The oppressive shape of Bucky’s absence lay against her, pushing her to the very edge of the mattress, nose buried in search of his scent.
Her grief was animal.
I’ve shared this before, but I reread the series this week and had to share it again. It is so well written, the words a balm in themselves. So beautiful, so heartbreaking 💗
i have not stopped thinking about this from the moment i saw it
Summary: Cheery young aide Elle Andersen has a natural propensity for care and comfort, making her an ideal compatriot for Captain America, Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, and the rest of the ineffable Howling Commandos.
Warning(s): Language, war-related violence, character death; grief
Word Count: Approx. 13.5k
A/n: I am so excited to be posting this chapter! I’ve had the last paragraph written (particularly the last two lines) for about two years now, since October 2018. I hope you all enjoy!
In the amber cup of a reluctant dawn, Elle felt her own heart snap in two. It was an undramatic sensation, coming quietly, after days of suppressed weeping, of silent struggles to look upon an emptier life than she had once had enough hope to envision. Her heart broke after practicalities: a mission briefing, wherein she was forced to listen as her husband’s death was described in the most distant details. He was a stranger to her, in dying. The Bucky she knew could not have left; could not have lost his grip upon the train door. The thought of her Bucky, her James, her love, simply falling into the icy depths of that ravine – it was almost laughable.
But her heart broke just the same.
Pillow crushed beneath her, Elle curled upon his narrow bed, clutching his shirt to her – white, worn, half-hanging from the top of his dresser. He had been in a hurry to leave, she thought, with a fresh wave of agony. The bedroom around her was in a surprising state of disarray, and she wondered if his mind had been as muddled as the pile of clothes on the chair; as the book left splayed on the bed.
She searched for him in everything. Walking through his room on soft, bare feet. There were splotches of warmth on the floor; someone had lit a fire. But holding his shirt to her, and sliding her arms through the sleeves was the closest thing to a warm embrace she could grasp now. The oppressive shape of Bucky’s absence lay against her, pushing her to the very edge of the mattress, nose buried in search of his scent.
Her grief was animal.
I... I just... I cannot find any damn words. Those last two sentences gave me actual literal chills. I don’t know what I expected, but it was not that. And now I can’t stop thinking about it - the whole freaking story - thinking over everything and how wrong I was about it.
Oh my God. I really just can’t move on here. I need more. My heart needs more. This was so painful, and then it was so shocking, and now I need hope.
But damn that was beautiful. And heartbreaking. And wonderfully broken and lovely. And I’m seriously just a mess and cannot word properly. Wow. Damn. This is just fucking amazing.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word count: 1100
Rating: All audiences
Warnings: None. Or… a little awkwardness?
We’re finally here, chapter seven. I’ve loved posting this series and seeing how you guys have taken to it. If this has at all in any way made days of self-quarantining and shelter in place a little easier, than it’s been my honour posting this and I hope you will enjoy the last chapter. I think someone asked at some point if we’d get something from Bucky’s POV, and well… who am I to deny you? Please stay safe, my darlings.
I loved this whole thing! Loved it. Perfect!
Summary: Cheery young aide Elle Andersen has a natural propensity for care and comfort, making her an ideal compatriot for Captain America, Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes, and the rest of the ineffable Howling Commandos.
Warning(s): Language, war-related violence, smut, pregnancy
Word Count: Approx. 13.8k
In the sweat-soaked, gasping afterglow, Elle snuggled closer against Bucky’s side, curling there as though the dips and hollows of his strong, lean body had been carved for the precise shape of her. “Remind me again,” he huffed, slicking back his hair, muscles jumping in his arm as he reached to encircle her, “why the hell we waited so long. We coulda been doing this for months.”
At the mention of ‘this,’ Bucky swept a hand down the length of his chest, gleaming and smudged with faint kiss-bruises and lipstick. Elle stifled her laugh by burying her face in his neck, fastening her lips to a sensitive juncture with that wicked streak of humour he always seemed to bring out in her. “Because we would have gotten in terrible trouble,” she said softly, resting one hand on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat fluttering under her fingers. Tracing small whorls onto the sprinkling of dark hair there. “I think we can enjoy it now, though.”
And enjoy it they did. Thoroughly.
Oh Ellie. I’ve waited with bated breath for this next chapter. I even tricked myself into thinking we might never make it to this point.
Everything is so beautifully written. Even this chapter’s ending which is so haunting. You have a wonderful way of making even the heartbreaking pieces beautiful. I love this story of Ellie and Bucky, and I can’t wait to see how you take it from here.
Summary: Bucky and his wife write their own story.
Word Count: 3000
Warning(s): Smut, soft angst
Author’s Note: This is my submission for @moonbeambucky’s 5k writing challenge! My prompt was “Bookstore AU.” I’m sorry for being so last minute, but thank you for letting me participate!
A soft, familiar advance; bare feet on hardwood, maybe a little damp from the bath. Sugar curling prettily on the air, clinging to warm skin. A rustle, a glide – maybe silk. Bucky’s hands pause over the keyboard, but he doesn’t turn, not yet. Because he knows what comes next.
“How was your bath?” he asks quietly, muscles flexing as he grips the edge of the front counter. Knows the answer before she whispers, knows the routine here. A Saturday night reprieve. Building these habits of living together, carving out normalcy from torment, from grief. He’d been chip-chip-chipping away at himself these past two years, since he left the desert and the danger, come home to his wife with his heart in raw pieces, unsure how to stitch it back together.
Work. And books. And this tender, gentle love.
Warm hands press lightly against his back, and then slide around his waist. Up his stomach, under his t-shirt, and Bucky shivers, leans back against her. Soft curves and a slide of yes, silk. He wants to ask another question, wants her to know how this feels, to be held. To know the faint scratch of nails against the planes of his chest, teasing touches. To feel her lips trail across his shoulder, through the grey cotton. Down to kiss the place where flesh gives way, to something not quite him. And she kisses him there first, always. As though anchoring him, claiming him, in this new way.
Oh my god, this is beautiful!
Reblog with whatever tag first shows up when you type “I just want”.
