OBSESSED with the fact that there’s a redditor out there who calls themselves “PISS BOT” but carries themselves with the unflappable politeness of a confused Victorian gentleman. 

the most beautiful stories repeat themselves over and over and over again, time weaving itself into a blanket to warm our beds

THAT’S THE BITCH

Sunshine in His Shadows

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: When Bucky withdraws into himself one night, you’re determined to remind him that his past doesn't define him and he doesn’t have to carry his burdens alone.

Word Count: Roughly 1.8k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, mentions of his trauma and anxiety

Author’s Note: You can never go wrong with fluff and a bit of angst. And, I already have an idea for a lighthearted part 2 

Part 2: Teddy Bear Bucky

Also, I added a taglist form!

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics 

The compound was quiet at night, except for the occasional creak of floorboards as you wandered the halls. You found Bucky sitting alone in the kitchen. His was tense; you could tell by how his metal hand clenched into a fist as if he were holding something invisible but heavy. 

You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to intrude. But you didn’t want him to feel alone, not when you could at least offer warmth.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You didn’t go out either, huh?”

Bucky glanced at you briefly, his blue eyes shadowed by something deeper than being tired. He didn’t respond; he just gave a quiet nod before turning his gaze back to the window. When he didn’t tell you to get lost, you took that as permission to sit beside him.

For a while, there was silence. Comfortable but heavy. 

You wanted to break it but didn’t want to push too hard before Bucky closed up again. Finally, after gathering your courage, you spoke, your voice as gentle as the night breeze.

“Bucky, um, you never talk about your past.”

Bucky tensed further, his jaw clenching tightly. You noticed how his breathing changed, becoming shallower as if the very mention of his past dragged him underwater.

“I just, I want to understand you better,” you added carefully, your voice barely a whisper. “Not what I hear from others. I want to know you.”

sometimes i’ll be sitting, writing fanfic on my laptop and then look down and remember that i am about to be a mother in 3 months. will my child think i’m a weirdo if she ever finds out about mommy’s miraculous ladybug fanfiction phase?

Being anti-self diagnosis = being classist and perhaps other things as well. (Such as sexism and racism).

There I said it.

You cannot change my mind.

if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.

Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.

in 2025 let’s bring back being enthusiastic on ao3. leave a comment on every chapter. leave kudos and, if necessary, leave “double kudos” in the comments. tags and notes on bookmarks. the whole nine yards. let’s show fanfic authors how much we love them.

a comic about fix-it fanfics

Waste a Moment Masterlist (Completed)

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/reader)

Most recent update : 30/11/2024

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum. Angst.

The title was taken from a Kings of Leon song of the same name, and the chapter titles are taken from bits of lyrics from Waste a Moment, Find Me, and Reverend.

A new chapter will be posted every two days.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

The Adventures of Captain and Mr. America

Part 564

You can read all the parts of The Adventures of Captain and Mr. America on AO3. If you're American, it's something to pass the time before you vote in November. And you MUST vote in November unless you think living The Handmaid's Tale in a country that looks a whole lot like Iran sounds like a good time.

This is for whoever needs to hear this but we're strangers. This internet space is a city bus. I don't know you. Confessions of romantic devotion or seething hatred are uncomfortable because we don't actually know each other. Like I wish you the best bruh but we've never actually met

Like genuinely as far as you know I could be anyone and instead of imagining me as a filthy rat bastard or an angelic beacon of virtue I'd prefer you just think of me as like. Some frumpy 20-something with acne scrolling on their phone at the bus stop. It's far more accurate

How do I stop being stinky? /hj

Okay but more seriously, how the hell do I convince myself to shower every day and brush my teeth twice a day? I first of all struggle to just motivate myself to do it. And then past that, it can be kinda tiring sometimes. There are times I have to lean against the sink while brushing my teeth because I’m so out of breath. Would a shower chair help? Everyone who talks about shower chairs talks about passing out in the shower or getting dizzy, but I don’t get that. Would I even notice a difference because my symptoms are so inconsequential? Are there ways to keep myself “fresh” between showers/brushing my teeth, or is there a way to sucker-punch my brain into just being cleaner?

Timeless | B.Barnes

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: I was listening to Timeless By Taylor Swift and was clearly inspired.

Masterlist

——

2024

The night sky was ablaze with flashes of light and the crackle of energy blasts as you and the Avengers fought your way through the remnants of a fortified enemy base. The mission had been straightforward—take down a group of rogue mercenaries who had been experimenting with dangerous, uncharted technology. But like most things in your line of work, nothing stayed straightforward for long.

You dodged a barrage of gunfire, returning fire with precision, while Steve and Bucky fought side by side, taking down enemies with practiced ease. Natasha was up ahead, taking out a sniper nest, while Tony soared above, providing aerial support with his repulsors. You could feel the heat of the battle on your skin, your senses heightened by adrenaline.

“Stay sharp, everyone!” Steve’s voice crackled through your earpiece. “Something’s not right about these guys.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. There was an eerie, unnatural energy surrounding the mercenaries. They were moving too fast, their reflexes too sharp for ordinary humans. And then you saw it—a strange device in the center of the base, pulsating with a sickly yellow glow.

“Tony, what the hell is that?” you called out, your eyes fixed on the device.

“Not sure, but it’s giving off some seriously weird readings,” Tony responded, his suit’s HUD lighting up with unfamiliar data.

Before you could react, one of the mercenaries—his eyes glowing with the same yellow hue—turned his attention toward you. He raised his hand, and suddenly, you felt a force tugging at you, pulling you off balance. The ground beneath your feet seemed to shift and warp.

“Y/N, get out of there!” Bucky shouted, his voice desperate sprinting toward you, but it was too late.

The world around you exploded in a kaleidoscope of colours as the force yanked you from your place in reality. Your vision blurred, and your body felt like it was being stretched and compressed at the same time. You could hear the panicked shouts of your teammates growing distant as you were sucked into a swirling vortex of light and sound.

“Bucky!” you cried out, reaching for him, but your hand grasped nothing but air.

And then, everything went black.

Time Travel Barnes? Part 2

19...43,” he hesitated, his eyes dropping low with strong pain and confusion. He was hurting, but not mentally or physically, he was just hurting. The idea, the thought that… if he was in that particular year, in Europe, then… World War II. He was in the middle of World War II. But, then that would mean that the present times’ James Buchanan Barnes was there, depending on ‘where’ in Europe he was.

His eyes snapped wide open an on reflex he grabbed the wrists of the hands that reached out to him, instantly loosening the grip at seeing the woman crying in front of him, focused on him. He was panting harshly, his breath barely taking its’ time and he was panicked. A panic attack. James blinked rapidly and forced himself to ease up, twitchily releasing the hands and letting the woman hesitantly reach again, her cold, dry hands delicately resting on both sides of his jaw with her thumbs being the only skin contact above the balaclava he wore. He forced his breathing to slow, keeping his eyes firmly focused on her as he spoke fast in German. The soldier barely had time to take in her words as he tried to drop his fear, confusion and mild rage at his stupid situation. Though he was sure there had been a ‘calm’ and ‘deep breathes’ said in a shaken tone. Without her needing to even say it, he tried. It impressed him that she had even attempted trying to calm a man that killed another right in front of her. She was something else and he was grateful for the effort.

“Thank you,” James spoke in her tongue, giving a small, single nod as if to acknowledge her. He reached his hands up, resting the gloved flesh palm over hers and being reluctant to touch her with the other. He simply used his two first fingers to carefully remove her hand from his face. He lowered them, giving another nod before taking a last deep breath and turning to glance at the body he disarmed completely.

He needed to pull himself together, there were more men around and they needed to be taken out. He’d make this his mission and try to ignore the fact that he may have time travelled. Though he still had solid doubt about this. And he wouldn’t admit that if it was, he was in complete denial until he saw himself. Which he highly hoped he wouldn’t. If he met himself, what kind of trauma would that bring? He'd be unstable, for sure. If he saw his face from before Hydra, it could really screw him up mentally and that would be bad for everyone. Would it trigger him? How would he react? There were so many questions starting to fill his head.

He couldn't think about it. James pushed the thought and questions to the back of his mind, wanting to get this over with and quietly cleared his throat and easily turned to lift the body by its’ upper torso, his hands slipping under its biceps before standing and walking in a half circle to drag the body to the back of the house, gracelessly dropping it in the empty doorway of the cleaning cupboard. It was out of the way of the door, which he surveyed quickly before bolting the lock and returning to the living room where a gradually calming, but hesitant couple sat against the back of the sofa, huddled low and out of sight of the windows.

James also crept low as he re-entered the room, peeking over to the windows to glance out. Luckily, there weren’t many there, half a troop maybe? Barely passing double digits. From what he could see, there was precisely nine insight, maybe a few out of his view, so all in all, there may have been up to over twenty in his area of the town. He’d have to watch carefully for more. This wasn’t an overly large town, but if he was spotted, he was sure more would come to aid the Germans. Meaning he’d have to fight in the open. He’d rather be a ghost at this current moment, and that idea seemed to work perfectly in the current time. It was dark, passed from day to night and this was perfect for what he had planning. Stealth was his forte, his renowned skill. He was trained for this.

“Stay,” James ordered slightly in the native language, aiming a firm glance at them and getting frantic nods in return. He gave only one back and turned the corner of the couch, crouching his way to the front door. “Lock the door behind me,” was his next order and he heard light shifting behind him. The man came up to his side, seeming fearful and shaken. He swallowed thickly and the soldier reached up, grabbing the handle and easing it open with a very faint ‘click’. He gradually tugged it open and he slipped out into the dark, his raided weapons at the ready. James glanced both ways before darting out towards the gap between two houses across the narrow street, hearing the tiny ‘clicks’ of the door closing and locking behind him. Once hidden he glanced back over, to make sure that his order was obeyed and then saw that it was closed.

He let a silent breath pass his lips, feeling the heat of it gather in his soft mask. He eased his way down between the narrow walls and crouched low, lessening the chances of being caught. James slipped the gun further over his shoulders, making so it would barely move and make a sound, he grabbed one of the two hunting knives and held it tight in his right hand, his grip punishing. He could take this town out in a matter of minutes, easily killing these men with gunfire, but stealth seemed like the better option if there were more civilians alive. Hopefully, the elderly couple weren’t the only ones left breathing. He needed the chance to save these townspeople and doing his job quietly would heighten the possibility.

The soldier reached the other end of the lane-way, already seeing a few men there with wide gaps between them, three easy targets. And one of them didn’t even seem to be paying attention at all. His stance portrayed boredom. They either felt like they were wasting their time there or they were just stupid and didn't think that there was anything worth being alert for in the area. Inexperienced? More than likely.

The man took another quiet breath, easing the tension in his shoulders before peeking out around the corners and glancing for more men. Once he deemed it clear, he gradually edged out, a knife in hand as he closed in. He swiftly slung his left arm around the first, silencing him by easily snapping his neck with faint, sickening ‘crack’. He threw the knife at the next man turning his way in shock, the end piercing through his skull and he quickly darted forward, grabbing the hunting blade and sprinting for the one that had been paying the less attention, holding the knife as he stabbed it through the upper side of his throat.

The first few, swift, subtle and undetectable. He’d dragged the three back to the lane, quickly and quietly pulling each one back to his little hiding place and leaving them there to continue his stealthy takedowns. He continuously used the shadows to his advantage, keeping out of sight.

----------

By early dawn, around four or five in the morning, he was hunched low near the couples house, switching between each home that he’d deduced had people in. James had a patrol and would skulk his way around the small town, keeping vigilant for more Germans. After taking out the last, there were none left in the area. He’d rounded the bodies up and dumped them in a large pile near the barn-like shed, close to the cornfield, which was thankful, out of sight of the roads if more men did decide to appear.

He let a tired sigh leave his lips and he stood, keeping his senses sharp as he crossed the street casually, walking tensely towards the building while pocketing his knife and trying to seem harmless again, even with the mild blood splattering his gear and some skin. He’d hoped that maybe they’d allow him to borrow a shower or bath, to wash it off before leaving. The drizzling rain didn’t seem to wash it off.

James reached out his fist and gently rapped on the wooden door, not having to wait long to see the faintest of movement and the curtain being drawn an inch or so to see an eye peeking out. And within seconds, the door was thrown open and the man was standing there in shock and a curve suddenly grew on his lips. He seemed happy that he was back and with no German soldier in sight. This meant that killing them was the right thing to do. And it would be even right-er if this date was, indeed, 1943. The Nazi were in the wrong.

“Come, come!” the man ushered him inside, a hand carefully reaching up to rest against his upper back to move him faster. The door was closed behind him and re-locked as he was walked across the room towards another back room, through a door to an almost empty, small area. There was a large, long metal bath near the wall, a fire heater below keeping the water hot with steam floating above. The woman was kneeling next to it, messing with the warmth-gauge, as if sorting to a perfect temperature. She quickly looked up at the sound of them entering and she gave him a wary smile, somewhat crooked. Maybe she wasn’t as happy about the idea of him being in their house as the man was. Maybe this was his idea and she was just going along because he saved them. He wouldn’t be that surprised, if so.

James watched as she stood and wiped her hands in her long skirt, seeming to dry them before smiling again and walking past him and out of the room. His theory was just being proved now.

He felt a gentle push at his back and stepped further into the room, the door half closing behind him as he strode closer to the metal tub. He stared at the heated water before turning to glance over his shoulder at the man, watching as he rifled through the drawers in the corner, pulling out a towel and placing it next to the clothes he hadn’t registered were there before. They must’ve guessed his size or gathered a load of old clothes that used to fit the man, assuming that James wouldn’t be any bigger than what the man used to be.

“Get in,” the man urged after noticing the lack of movement, eyeing him a little warily as he just stood there. “My wife won’t let you sleep on the couch or have breakfast with us if you stay like that,” he joked with a light smile, gesturing to his gear and the blood dripping slightly. The man was right and he felt a mass of relief at his words that he’d be able to rest and have a meal, and there were clothes out for him to change into. It was more than he’d expected and he was incredibly grateful. He’d have to thank the woman once he was cleaned up.

James gave the man a slow nod before he started unclipping and unbuttoning his stupidly designed jacket, the zip behind the buttons slipping down easily before he peeled it from the skin of his arm and slid out of it, the sleeveless side practically falling off first. He dropped it at his boots and went about taking them off next, hating out the drying blood seemed to turn into a type of glue after several hours. The redness cracked while he unlaced his boots and dropped them off as well, moving to his shirt and then feeling reluctant at the knowledge of another in a room. He was aware that it shouldn’t bother him, having walked around without shirts on in multiple HYDRA bases. They’d seen the scars and wounds and where the metal met skin, but… he was in a civilian home with a nice couple and he was afraid that he’d scare them more than he had already. This would surely shock the man if anything.

He took a shaky breath and hesitantly reached for the hem of his dark vest, pulling it up and over his body, his torso showing more and more skin was revealed. There was a stifled gasp when it was pulled up to his shoulders and then over his head.

James didn’t dare turn to look at him, afraid of the expression he’d see. He hated the look of fear, and even more… he despised pity and sorrow ‘for’ him.

Instead, he reached for his trousers, unlacing the belt before unbuttoning the button fly and dropping his underwear with the combat pants. He stepped out of his clothes and then reached up to the mask, forgetting that he’d still been wearing it. He slipped it up over his head and dropped it as well before stepping closer to the tub and then gracefully climbing it.

The tension instantly evaporated in the water that uncased him and warmed him. He gradually leaned back and started to relax, feeling everything just sudden drain and he even closed his eyes and took warm, easy breathes. He was vaguely aware that the man had returned to whatever he’d been doing, shifting things, grabbing others. Glancing over tiredly had shown that he’d grabbed the necessities needed to clean oneself, a brush, rag, towel, a razor, scissors if he needed his hair shortened. He wouldn’t use it. He was content with its current length and it was needed if he was in 1943. Shortened hair would be his downfall if he ran into the 107th. He’d be found easily. With longer hair, they’d need a second glance, and by that glance, he could’ve disappeared.

“The sofa should be ready by the time you leave the bath,” the man said, catching his attention. He watched as he gave a wary smile and then turned to leave, closing the door behind him.

James was incredibly grateful for this, he was content for once. He hadn’t felt this calm in a long time. He’d realized that he wasn’t being chased, wasn’t being controlled. He’d saved the remains of a town and was rewarded with a hot, much-needed bath and he was allowed to rest and relax for the first time in a long time. This felt simple to him and it was nice. He hoped that it would be just as simple when he returned to Steve… ‘if’ he returned to Steve. He would check in on him if he could, and then be on his way. He didn’t seem like a wanted man here, that was a sure thing.

Once James was well rested, he’d see if anyone needed any help, maybe bury the bodies and burn the German soldiers in a pit, cover their corpses and get rid of the scent of death. He’d like to pull more of his weight after being rewarded with a bath and a pillow to lie on.

He gave a warm sigh and sank further into the water, his hair slipping in and getting soaked as he dank his head under and letting the water cover him completely for a moment before resurfacing and threading his metal hand through his drenched hair. Just looking down at the surface brought a furrow to his brow-line, seeing the remnants of red fading in the water, the blood dispersing and spreading, fading until there was only clear again. Glancing at his metal arm, he saw the watered down pinkish tint of soaked blood, gradually dripping and fading from the metal. The blood was the only constant thing in his life, and just thinking about it gave him a grim image, the Winter Soldier, the suit he wore, the blood covered gear and metal and the mask. It wasn’t a nice thing to see and he quickly dunked himself back under the water, his hands gradually ghosting over his skin and arm to get the blood off of him.

He wasn’t that man anymore, not the Winter Soldier, nor Bucky Barnes of the 107th, Steve Rogers’ best friend and Sergeant of the Howling Commandos. He was none of those. Just James...

… he may need to change that if he really was in 1943, and ran into the platoon, which he doubted would happen, but if it did then… having the same face and name as the Sergeant would seem more than a little coincidental.

Jamie, Jimmy, Jefferson, Jack… he’d have to think on that one. He could easily just use Barnes as his last name, maybe pass himself off as a relative or twin that was separated years ago. And he could easily play dumb at seeing the man if they had a run-in. Act surprised, shocked. Maybe he could wear his balaclava and avoid confrontation altogether. Seemed simpler.

He’d have to ask the couple of ‘where’ they were in 1943 to be sure that there wasn’t a run-in. James was more than sure that seeing his own face at this point would be bad. He was still unstable that'd only make him more so and he was fine without any more identity issues. He had so many already and if he'd run into himself, it'd only add to it. He could barely remember how he used to be in this timeline. How he used to act around people, specific people as well as ordinary and the German's. How was he meant to handle seeing himself? How would he process it?

aoouugghhh this was so good! I'm really enjoying the story you're building here. Good pacing, and I really like the way of speech you've given him. Just *chef's kiss* good luck on your research btw, I know this can't be easy to write.