Justmymindandstuff - Welcome To My Shitshow

This isn’t “goodbye”, this is simply “see you later” - Series Masterlist

Part 1: Goodbye my lover 

Part 2: Without you

Part 3: cooming soon

never getting over the fact that merlin is THE MOST POWERFUL SORCERER OF ALL TIME, and simply does not give a single fuck.

bro just uses his magic to clean his room, prank his boyfriend, and occasionally (begrudgingly) save camelot from its own stupidity.

the fact he could do ANYTHING with his level of power. and yet he chooses arthur, every time, over every other possibility.

bbc never admitted it, but that’s pure love right there folks.

justice for C. S. Lewis’s line “battles are ugly when women fight” being read as “women are bad fighters” and not “when women are forced to go to war, that means that the atrocities have come too close to home” and like in context of, you know, when he was living, and like, also, now, it kinda makes sense what he’s getting at

Documentary Now | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! If you haven't watched Documentary Now, I cannot recommend it highly enough :)

If you like what you read, please reblog so that others can find my stuff 🥰

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“Alright, I’m outta here,” you leaned over Bucky’s shoulder and left a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll see ya later, Barnes”. Bucky abandoned his breakfast and snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you close for just one more moment. “Have a great day, doll- and good luck on your presentation. You’re gonna do amazing”. He moved his hands from your waist to your face and brought your lips to his, “I’ll see you tonight”. Bucky watched you scurry out the door and off to work, leaving him alone in the apartment you two shared. He cleaned up from breakfast and flopped down onto the living room couch, apple tv remote in hand.

Bucky still couldn’t believe he had a safe, comfortable place to call home. His room at the Avengers compound, though it had belonged to him, never felt like his. It sat mostly empty, aside from the standard issue bed and dresser. His space was cold and almost sterile, and he hated the sense of loneliness it saddled him with. But he never felt like furnishing it. He didn’t feel like he deserved any soft, homey touches of comfort, so he lived without them. One thin blanket, one uncomfortable pillow, and an armchair Sam had planned to donate were the only things he allowed himself- until he started spending time with you.

You treated him with a kindness he’d never experienced before and welcomed him into your life with a warm embrace. And as the months passed, he seemed to spend all his free time in the comfort of your apartment, the two of you swapping life stories and marathoning movies while lounging on your comfy couch. A soft, cozy blanket always lay strewn across your bodies as you laid together, dozing off each night in the comfort of the other’s embrace. He’d always apologize for sleeping over, and even tried to sneak out in the middle of the night a few times, but you never let him feel like an imposition.

And every time he woke up screaming, you’d lead him out of his nightmare with a soft voice and gentle hands. You’d remind him who and where he was with patience and kindness until he could finally speak, but his first words were always “I’m sorry”. No matter how many times you told him not to apologize, he did it anyway. But you wanted him there all the time- wanted your home to be his home, too.

And when he’d finally told you how he felt about you, you suggested he move in. He deserved somewhere safe and comfortable to call home and you wanted to give him just that. Something about you eased the tension from his tortured soul. He trusted you, felt safe with you- loved you. And for the first time in years, his nightmares subsided. His blood-curdling screams no longer made an appearance every night, and his violent thrashing ceased almost completely. He didn’t know how you did it, but you quieted the horrors in his mind- and he could never thank you enough.

As the apple tv connected, he perused the list you’d left on the coffee table. When Bucky had time off from his world-saving missions, he wanted to familiarize himself with your favorite movies and tv shows. He wanted to understand all your references, so he’d asked you to jot down your top ten movies and shows as a starting point. He appraised each title on the list and decided on something called What We Do in the Shadows, smiling at the little note you’d scribbled next to the name: “this one’s on Hulu :)”

Bucky located the Hulu button and pressed enter, only to be greeted by his own face. “What the fuck is this…” Bucky leaned forward, mouth hanging open as he stared at the cold, dead eyes of the Winter Soldier. Hulu’s new docuseries, Winter Soldier: How Hydra Shaped a Century sat proudly displayed on the home screen. It rested under the New, Trending, and "Hulu’s picks" tabs, boasting its millions upon millions of viewers. Bucky felt a pit begin to settle in his stomach, the sheer dread throwing him into a hopeless abyss. He wished he could call you, just to hear your voice- but he didn’t dare interrupting the presentation you’d been working on for months.

So he pushed play. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he was curious. He needed to see how he was being portrayed, how the world truly saw him- but the answer was ugly. The foremost ‘experts’ on Hydra and the Winter Soldier experiment pulled no punches, characterizing Bucky as nothing more than a villain, a weapon, a “soulless, murderer”. He saw photos of himself that he didn’t know existed, taken while he received yet another wipe or lay dormant under cryo.

He’d experienced such peace with you in his life, having finally accepted the side of him that existed as the Winter Soldier. But these expert testimonies, these photos of the Winter Soldier in action, left his sense of peace dead in the water.

No matter how deeply it hurt him, he couldn’t stop watching. He burned through seven of the eight episodes without moving from the couch, only stopping when he noticed the time. If you came home from work and found him watching something so damaging, you’d surely be upset- and he never wanted that. He knew to expect you home just after six and didn’t have much time until you came sweeping though the front door, so he forced himself to press pause. With a few clicks of the remote, he selected the pilot episode of What We Do in the Shadows and headed for the kitchen to start dinner.

Something about Bucky seemed off when you got home. The warm smile you fell in love with felt forced somehow, and his eyes betrayed a darkness you couldn’t quite pinpoint. But when asked if something was wrong, Bucky said no. “Just kinda tired, doll. Rhodes sent me about a thousand emails today- had me searching for intel in some confiscated files. That’s all”. He served you a heaping plate of stir fry and left a kiss on top of your head before sliding into the seat next to you, changing the subject completely. “I want to hear about your day, though. Tell me all about your presentation, baby”. Bucky ate his dinner and listened intently as you detailed your successful work venture, but the docuseries starring his previous-self still haunted the corners of his mind.

Bucky woke that night to a familiar sensation. A cold sweat trickled from his brow, and he gasped for air as his heart beat wildly in his chest. Screams ripped from his throat and echoed through the room, startling you awake. You couldn’t remember the last time a night terror had woken Bucky so violently, but you knew exactly what he needed. You flicked on the light beside your bed and rested your hands on either side of Bucky’s face, pulling his focus from the horror. “Baby, hey. It’s me- it’s just me. You’re okay- you’re safe. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. You’re no longer the Winter Soldier. You’re home. This is our home, and you’re safe here”.

The far-away look in Bucky’s eyes dwindled slowly as he listened to you repeat yourself over and over, dragging him out of the dark depths of his soul. And when he finally felt like himself again, he breathed a weak “I’m sorry” followed by a quiet “thank you”. You fetched him a glass of water as he caught his breath and sat with him as he took small sips, “That hasn’t happened in a while, Buck…did something happen today?” You raked your nails gently through his hair and stared at him with worried eyes, but Bucky just shrugged. “Could be the stuff Rhodes sent me…” he suggested between sips, “parts of it were in Russian. Maybe it triggered weird memories?”

But Bucky knew what caused his nightmare, he just didn’t want to admit it.

And so started a vicious cycle. Every day after you left for work, Bucky would sit in front of the tv and consume as much Winter Soldier content as he possibly could. He watched BBC documentaries, Netflix dramatizations, even low-quality YouTube conspiracy theories. He found interviews with families of a few of his victims and watched as many as the internet had to offer, burying himself under an avalanche of guilt. It seemed like every streaming service and news outlet had a series about the Winter Soldier, and Bucky was determined to watch them all.

He knew viewing these things was a terrible idea- unhealthy, even. But he couldn’t stop himself. It grew into a strange form of self-flagellation that Bucky felt was appropriate, no matter how shameful. It acted as a makeshift-punishment that he felt he deserved, and he was determined to make himself suffer.

And every night without fail, he’d wake up screaming. His nightmares terrorized him every night for over a week, haunting him with the images he’d seen on the tv just hours earlier.

And you took care of him every time. You comforted him no matter how tired you were, and made sure he felt safe and comfortable before the two of you eventually drifted back to sleep. He hated waking you. He hated knowing that you were exhausted and worried, but he couldn’t stop himself from watching every Winter Soldier documentary in existence. He tried time and time again to watch something from your list, but always ended up glued to some horrifying retelling of his time under Hydra.

As you pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building and grabbed the bag full of Bucky’s favorite takeout, you checked the time. 5:37pm- perfect. Your last client of the day cancelled last minute, giving you enough time to swing by Bucky’s favorite sushi place and grab dinner on the way home. You loved surprising him with little treats and kind gestures, but doing so usually proved difficult. His enhanced senses always told him when you were sneaking up on him or hiding something, ruining the surprise before you had the chance.

But Bucky didn’t even turn around when you opened the front door. His eyes remained glued to the tv, focused on something you weren’t familiar with. As you dropped your purse to the ground and kicked off your heels, you listened in:

“Credited with over a dozen assassinations and countless collateral casualties, James Buchanan Barnes remains history’s most ruthless killer. He did Hydra’s bidding- taking orders like a rabid guard dog until his identity was revealed. And now, we’re supposed to forget the things he did, the lives he took? Regardless of the atrocities he committed? The families of those he murdered will never forget. His country will never forget-”

“Buck?”

Finally, Bucky turned around. He saw you standing there, teary-eyed, holding a bag of take out and looking like someone had punched you in the gut. “What- what are you watching?” Bucky quickly scrounged for the remote and paused the tv, but turned it off completely when he noticed the screen frozen on a picture of him shooting at Steve, Sam, and Nat in DC. “Bucky, what was that…?”

“You’re home early-”

“My last client of the day cancelled. I got us sushi from Akura.”

“Oh. Wow, thank you, doll. You’re so sweet, I-”

“Why are you watching a Winter Soldier documentary?”

Bucky couldn’t stand to look you in the eye any longer. He found himself escaping to the kitchen in search of plates and glasses, but you were hot on his heels. “Buck, why were you watching that?” He finally turned to face you, and air of defeat pooling all around him. “I don’t- I’m sorry, sweetheart”. You shook your head and dropped the sushi on the counter, taking Bucky’s face in your hands.

“You don't have to apologize. I just- that didn’t sound like a very kind retelling of your story. Doesn’t it hurt you to hear those things?” You stroked his stubbled cheeks gently and watched as he offered you a subtle nod. You thought the documentary had broken your heart completely, but Bucky’s answer found the tiny, intact piece that remained and splintered it into shards.

“How often do you watch this kind of stuff?” Once again, Bucky couldn’t make eye contact. The shame overwhelmed him completely, forcing his gaze downward. But his non-answer was answer enough, and suddenly, you connected the dots. “Buck, is this why you’ve been having nightmares again?”

With another nod, Bucky confirmed your suspicions. “Baby, why- why would you do this to yourself?” Bucky unwound himself from your grasp and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He wished he had a sensible answer for you, wished he could provide you with something- anything- normal, but he came up short.

“I didn’t mean to…I didn’t seek it out. I saw one advertised on the Hulu homepage, and I don’t know why- but I clicked it. And then I couldn’t stop”. He thought back on every dramatic reenactment and tell-all interview he’d consumed, each one seemingly nastier and less sympathetic than the last. “But seeing all the things I did, seeing the people I killed…it felt like something I needed to do. I hurt so many people- it’s only fair that I let something hurt me back”.

“Buck, you’ve already been hurt- over and over again”. You reached out a hand and waited for him to take it, his cold fingers reluctantly weaving in between yours. “Hydra hurt you for decades. They hurt you on purpose- for their own gain. You don’t deserve to hurt anymore.”

Bucky pulled his hand from yours and raked it through his hair, tugging on the short strands that he still wasn’t accustomed to. “But I did those things. I killed those people. And some of them were just collateral damage. This kid RJ just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He saw me eliminate a target- so I had to take him out…” Bucky fell quiet for a moment as he thought back on that mission, the mission that took a son from his loving father. “I watched an interview with his dad, this guy Yori. He didn’t deserve to bury his son…”

“And you didn’t deserve to be abused for almost a century. You had zero choice-”

“It doesn’t matter… the blood is on my hands whether I had a choice or not”.

You stared at Bucky with a deep sadness welling in your chest. He’d been doing so well, making such great strides, and fixing the tumultuous relationship he had with his past self. He’d almost learned to live with his demons in something resembling harmony, only for a few shitty docuseries to tear it all apart.

“I just want- I need you to understand that you’re so much more than the things you were forced to do, Buck. And I know I can’t tell you to stop caring about what people think of you- but the opinions of YouTube conspiracy theorists don’t matter. The people at Hulu don’t matter. There are people in your life who understand you and care about you- Steve, Sam, Nat, Wanda…me. We love you for who you are, Winter Soldier and all”.

Once again, you took Bucky’s face in your hands. You watched the guilt eat away at him in real time, feasting on his kind heart. “I know you feel like you deserve to be punished for the rest of your life, but you’ve suffered enough, Buck. You don’t have to keep torturing yourself, okay?”

You knew Bucky well enough that you could practically hear the protest forming on his tongue, rattling off all the reasons why he deserved pain- but his objection never came.

He let his forehead fall against yours as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth of his body. “I just felt responsible- like I needed to know every fucking thing I did. And then I spiraled…” You gently traced the length of his spine with your nails, slowly easing the tension that forged his muscles into tight knots.

“I know, Buck. It’s okay. But you don't have to do that anymore, alright? We're not gonna do that.” Bucky nodded, promising to banish the documentaries for good. “Thank you- for everything, doll.”

The two of your remained lock together for a moment, the heavy burden of Bucky’s secret finally leaving his shoulders. “I think we should probably eat before the food gets…um, warm?” He pressed a long, deep kiss to your lips before carrying the bag of sushi to the living room while you grabbed plates. And with dinner spread over the coffee table, Bucky grabbed the remote.

“Okay, let’s actually watch something from your list”, Bucky found the folded up piece of paper and perused the titles, “how does Arrested Development sound?”

“Like it’s not gonna give you nightmares…”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you and pressed play, settling in for the first night of peace he’d experienced in a long time.

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the power that that has, the intelligence that that has, the clearance that that has, the access that that has, the influence that that has, the profile that that has, the international implications that that has.