⋆. 𐙚 rin˚

if you and i are a story that never gets told

[probuccalfat]

i know i’ve talked about this before but it’s really insane when you were passively suicidal for two decades and out of the blue you catch yourself saying shit like “i’ve been trying to eat a lot of fibre because i don’t want to risk colorectal cancer in my 40s” like okay … 40s are part of the plan now?

[heldbybarnes]

we like trolling John Walker in this household, yes? (Shhhhhhh we're a household now)

May I present: bucky and his wife having a telepathic conversation in the kitchen when in reality they're making weird ass hand signals and neither actually knows that the other is saying so they go with the flow. And other weird shit like that just to ragebait John :)

♡♡♡♡♡

John Walker swears the two of you speak without speaking.

And to be fair, you and Bucky do absolutely nothing to convince him otherwise.

It starts in the kitchen on a boring Tuesday morning. The compound is mostly quiet—just Sam, Walker, and Bucky milling around while you’re trying to prep breakfast like a normal person. But then your husband catches your eye across the island with that look.

That I’m bored. You bored? Wanna cause problems? look.

You raise one eyebrow. He raises two. You narrow your left eye dramatically for no reason at all. He squints like he suddenly forgot how to see. Sam, unfortunately in the middle of pouring coffee, mutters, “Oh hell. Not this again.”

John turns, confused. “What? They’re just… staring.”

“Oh buddy,” Sam sighs. “You’re about to have a bad day.”

Because Bucky decides this is the moment to start whatever bit he thinks you’re doing—lifting both hands slowly like he’s conducting an orchestra, then pointing at you, then at the fridge, then back at you.

You have absolutely no idea what this means.

So naturally, you pretend you do.

You flick your fingers twice—like jazz hands but menacing—then tap your forearm, then mime placing something gently on the counter.

Bucky’s eyes widen like you’ve just delivered the most profound psychic message of your marriage.

Walker looks between the two of you. “Are you—are you guys telepathic or something?”

You and Bucky answer at the exact same time: “Yes.” “No.”

Which only makes it worse.

Sam groans into his mug because he knows you’re about to double down, and both of you, in your infinite immaturity, absolutely commit.

Bucky nods gravely. “We trained for years.”

You nod back with equal severity. “Ancient Wakandan bonding ritual.”

Bucky blinks twice—slowly—which you assume means go bigger, so you raise your hand dramatically and swipe it through the air like you’re cutting through invisible fabric.

John flinches.

You are delighted.

Meanwhile, Bucky continues his totally-improvised, makes-no-sense gestures. He holds up three fingers. Then one. Then wiggles his thumb like it’s trying to escape his hand. You respond by tracing a circle in the air and pointing at the toaster like it holds the secrets of the universe.

Somehow, you and Bucky stay in perfect rhythm. Every gesture he makes, you answer confidently—even though neither of you knows what the hell you’re agreeing to.

To be honest, you're just riffing at this point.

It’s performance art.

Walker steps back uneasily. “Sam, are you seeing this?”

“Oh, I see it,” Sam says. “I’ve been seeing it for months. Therapy starts at ten if you want in.”

Bucky slams his vibranium palm flat against the counter, startling everyone. “It is done.”

You nod solemnly. “The pact is sealed.”

Walker stares. “What pact? With who?”

You shrug casually. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Captain.”

Bucky snorts. Sam chokes on his coffee. Walker looks one second away from spiraling.

But then—because the universe loves you—you and Bucky reach for the same bowl at the same time, pause, and share a look that accidentally syncs your next fake-psychic sentence perfectly.

Bucky: “Two hours.” You: “The extraction begins.”

Walker makes a strangled noise. “Extraction of WHAT?!”

“Can’t say,” Bucky says, poking his temple like he’s checking for WiFi. “Private channel.”

You nod, tapping your forehead like you’re turning up the volume. “Encrypted.”

Walker looks visibly alarmed. “Sam, what extraction? Are they planning something? Are we compromised?”

Sam waves him off. “We’re only compromised because you asked them a question.”

And that’s when you strike.

You turn your back to the guys, whisper loudly, “Initiate phase four,” and slam the cabinet shut.

There is no phase one through three.

There will be no phase five.

But John Walker jumps like you’ve just armed a bomb.

Bucky, bless him, plays along instantly. “Phase four?! You’re sure?”

You spin dramatically. “It’s time, James.”

Sam mutters, “Jesus, here we go.”

Walker’s face contorts. “What does phase four do?”

You and Bucky both shrug at exactly the same time.

You honestly don’t know.

He doesn’t either.

But that doesn’t matter.

What matters is the way Walker’s eye twitches as he tries to decode absolute nonsense coming from two people who are stone-faced serious while making gestures that belong in an interpretive dance competition.

Bucky lifts his hand again, makes what could only be described as “crab claw motions,” and you answer with a gentle circular wave like you’re blessing the kitchen with chaos energy.

Walker decides this is the breaking point. “Okay, that’s it. I’m telling Fury—something weird is going on.”

“Tell him what?” Bucky asks, leaning forward. “That me and my wife just think at each other sometimes?”

Sam: “You guys don’t think at each other.”

You and Bucky together, perfectly timed: “We absolutely do.”

Walker sputters. “Then what were you just saying?!”

And here, the two of you lock eyes—deeply, lovingly, mutually idiotic—and without missing a beat, you answer in perfect harmony:

“Lunch.”

Walker looks like he wants to scream.

Sam is wheezing.

You and Bucky high-five under the counter.

But Walker hasn’t fully learned yet.

Later that day, he passes you both in the hallway. Bucky lifts a hand—wiggles two fingers, makes a circle, taps his chest twice. You haven’t the faintest clue what that’s intended to be, but you raise an eyebrow, tap your own shoulder, and hum approvingly like he’s shared a brilliant battle plan.

Walker trips over his own feet trying to interpret it.

Your marriage? Strong.

Your communication? Absolutely nonexistent.

Your dedication to fucking with John Walker?

Unmatched.

[beefandcorn]

are you worried

About what? But yeah

[redstonedust]

crazy how quickly dust accumulates. i should be allowed to put my trinkets on a shelf and not touch them and they remain in perfect condition forever. dont even get me STARTED on the inside of a computer. why do i have to brush your teeth. youre technology.

[garfinkelstingle]

it's days like these were i wish i could carry even a semblance of a tune because i just wrote a song inspired by heated rivarly called "the long game" and some of the lines include:

every almost-confession we quietly defamed just made us better liars in the long game

and:

every year without you felt suspiciously like loyalty

and my personal favorite:

you were the only rival i ever hoped would win

i will now go and pretend i am a successful lyricist who actually had their song sold and it is now being produced for the final episode of season 2 of heated rivarly, and not someone who is more likely to get pooped on by a pigeon (which already happened, once).

[lizziehernandez]

I’m so sad… time for an x reader fan fiction

[wuntrum]

googling how to elimate ticketmaster from the face of the planet, how to dismantle ticketmasters floorboards, how to vaporize ticketmaster livenation, how to time travel to ensure ticketmaster never gets created, etc.

[humorholics-deactivated20200126]

Whoever thinks money doesn’t bring happiness, transfer it to my account

[thatbird-fromrio]

frat!Luke would be the type of lab partner to turn to you in the middle of a 3 hour lab and ask to just fake the data

[seashellenthusiast00]

[dailyswiftgifs]

[vetckkie]

girl get off that c.ai and embrace the 'x reader'

[my-2nd-account]

[my-2nd-account]

The difference is that jealous Ilya looks homicidal while jealous Shane looks suicidal

[livingasaghost]

genuinely i do think it's crazy how this show hit every single mark for no reason other than pure love of the game. like this wasn't a money grab and it didn't think it would be a big success, jacob just read a book he enjoyed and thought huh i think that would be a cool thing to make into a tv show. and then he brought on hudson and connor and they're fresh and passionate and not bogged down by the industry yet and they instantly became best friends and wanted to just have fun bringing these characters to life. and they didn't have a huge budget but they did the most with what they had and everybody took the show seriously and everybody took the book seriously. the cinematographer worked his magic. the music supervisor managed to snag a well-known queer hit and an up and coming new release and old school gems that have been around since the 2000s. it's canadian to the core, built from the ground up. it takes russians and the russian language seriously. it uses sex in such a specific, meaningful way that almost no other show has done thus far, and especially not in a queer context like this. they interlaced every episode with callbacks and parallelism and self-references. they didn't take themselves too seriously. they took everything so seriously. there is love and care baked into the core of this show and it's deeply queer and it doesn't shy away from the horrors of toxic masculinity and hockey culture but it is also, always, a story of joy and love and happiness. and on top of everything, it's almost word for word, the original source material from the book.

like damn it's no wonder this thing has made us all insufferable and become a huge fucking success! so few productions in hollywood are doing it like this!!!

[garfinkelstingle]

watching the boys but especially hudson during this press cycle answer all questions with sentences that start with confidence but end with vibes only has truly been a magical experience

[therozanov]

Ilya: I hate Hunter. Jane: No you don't. Ilya: I do. Jane: Stop. I'll get jealous if you keep talking like that. – Heated Rivalry, chapter 22