#“so much respect for how he held it together and avoided traumatizing those kids”

[red-hot-moon]

Please say sike right now

[allandoflimbo]

Ashens (Part 18)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17,000 (I’M SO SORRY) the first half of this story is flashback. The second half is the present.

Chapter Warning: Sex, twice. Sad Sex. Filthy sex. SMUT. VERY strong Language. Bucky and Reader will be very toxic in this chapter. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship. 

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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There’s an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background.

The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.  

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation. 

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much-needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious. 

If you weren’t eating it,  you might as well be smelling it.

To most people, it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He’s now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective. 

Within a moment’s relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don’t sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn’t stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world. 

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn-out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand. 

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it’s not like he was actually reading it),  he sighs in aggravation. 

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn-out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way. 

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about. 

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours but had been only mere minutes. 

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action. 

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He’d have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they’re born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so. 

They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it. 

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque. 

It read ‘Director' in golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity. 

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry. 

"I'm so sorry." 

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity. 

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes. 

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven’s sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak. 

And it was.

"It's not your fault.”

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

+  +  +

They were both laughing so hard that she started getting tears, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the bitter cold. They were both so caught up in the events of the night neither noticed how cold it really was. 

Once their laughter dwelled down, she continued to stare at him in total admiration. He was something else  for sure. She wanted to feel his arm around her again. She looked down at his freezing hand and took it into her cold one.

“Tell me about you, James.”

He smiled when she looked back up and he gave her a tight squeeze.

“First, tell me what a fine dame like you is doin here in Brooklyn.” A playful smile plays on her lips, but it’s a rhetorical questions so he continues, “What do you wanna know?" 

She smiles even wider and this time it reaches her eyes, “Everything. I want to know everything about you by tomorrow mornin’.”

The fact that she suggested spending the night with him made him gulp. 

He looks down at her lips and nods slowly.

He followed up by telling her that the apartment he had rented out for the next few weeks was just a couple of blocks away. On the walk there she had questioned what he meant by rent for a couple of weeks to which he responded with that he would explain there, but that they should get warm first. 

When they arrived, his door ended up being three floors up. His dingy beat-up door made her smile inside. He gave off a classy, rich, stuck up vibe, but really he was simple and not much for being out there. She liked that he seemed so original.

He inserted the key into the normal door lock and bolt lock and opened the door for her to let her in first. She stepped into the “foyer”, if it could even be called that, and took a look around. It was more like a two by two feet space. She walked in the rest of the way and took a look around. It was basically a small studio, but a lot smaller. It was one room, inside there was a tiny kitchen on the left corner, a window that looked out to another brick wall, and to the right a metal bed with a white blanket.

But it was made, military style.

He walks over to his record player and places the needle gently down on the vinyl. If You Only Knew starts playing quietly. 

He looks over his shoulder at her and notices her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry” he chuckled dropping his keys by his iron stove, “I know it’s not much, but it’s temporary. You should’ve seen my old place before I left for training.”

He catches himself when he says it but it’s too late. Her head snaps to his direction and her face holds an emotion that he can’t really pin point. He can’t tell if it’s fear or surprise. He swallows hard and tries to direct the conversation to a different direction. 

He curses himself in his head for his stupid slip up. He goes to the far kitchen and opens the cupboard, “I got some cookies, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to say with her staring at him like that. He closes the cupboard and runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s silent. 

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A car honks outside after it runs through a puddle and Ella’s voice is haunting. 

“You’re in the army.”

He’s caught off guard and his eyebrow raises at her voice. He looks at her. It wasn’t fear or surprise that she had felt when he said that, it was sadness. It was the one feeling he was afraid she’d feel, it was the reason why he didn’t want to tell her just yet. But it was too late, she knows now. 

He nods. 

He sees visible tears build up in her eyes. He doesn’t want this, he wanted this to be happy. Just a half hour ago they were laughing and now she’s in his apartment, shattered. She nods quickly and crosses her arms across her chest. 

She was different and he knew it the moment he saw her. Any normal girl would love to be with a soldier, but not in this case. Not when it was something like this. 

She looks at his bed and his window and shakes her head. This was a damn pit stop. 

The made bed revealed just how loyal he was to what he had signed up for and she knew there was no backing out. But he was perfect, she couldn’t lose him. She had to at least stay for the long hall, she thought. It wouldn’t last forever anyway. 

Her eyes meet his again. The tears had been blinked away and evaporated and her strong satire was back. 

He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the sink, sighing. He had been waiting patiently for her response. Whatever she said would ever make or break this, and for God’s sakes if there’s anything he didn’t want to do it was break this. 

“How long?” Her tone was strong. 

“How long till I leave?” He was a bit confused by the question.

She nodded. 

Bucky felt his heart sink. It wasn’t long. She would not like the answer. It was not good. She concluded this herself by his delayed answer and his stare at the floor beneath him. 

She let out an exhausted sigh and a click of her tongue as she turned away from him. Now she was angry.

“Five days.” 

They’re silent, standing there letting reality sink in. Minutes pass by. She takes a seat on his bed and takes off her coat. He watches her every move intently, wondering if she would decided to stay for the long haul or run out of his cheap room he dared call an apartment. 

“Like I said. I want to know you.”

He heart soars and he smiles. He re opens the cupboard and takes out a box of cookies. He fills up two jars with milk and hands one of them to her as he practically dances over to her. He sits criss crossed on the bed. She chuckles at how innocent he looks just sitting there like that in his dress shirt and suspenders, like a kid.

It’s awkward at first, trying to sit cross cross with a long dress on, but eventually she manages by pulling her dress up around her thighs. Bucky blushes at this. She brings him out of the moment.

“So what are you doing in Brooklyn?" 

He smirks, “I live here, Doll.” She gives him a confused look. He takes a deep breath and decides to start from the beginning, “I moved here when I was a teen. My father was in the army since we used to live back in Indiana. I used to go with him to camp, I loved everything about it. The respect those men held, the strong mentality they had, there’s was so much about what they were doing that made me see there was something greater to live for. To make this country better for us, so we can live and be peaceful and happy. There are way too many nasty people out there who don’t deserve to breathe our air. We are good people and I want to save the good people. It’s something serious, putting your life like that on the line. Unfortunately not all are willing.” 

Daisy smiles at him talking about his love for the military. She remembers her mother’s words at that moment. 

It really was in his heart, his love for humanity, “it’s in my blood, just like dad. I did training in New Jersey where he was stationed.” Mentions of his father makes him trail off for a second and Daisy notices. She places her hand on his, “and then they sent me back here for some additional work just until our physical forms go through to see who gets accepted. Who does leave in five days.” 

Daisy perks at this, “So you’re not actually certain if you will leave?” 

Bucky chuckles to himself and looks down. He reaches for another cookie, “Doll, my dad was well respected on the forces. They raised me to do the same. They practically have my name already there ready for me. I know I’m not staying.” 

Daisy stays silent again. Bucky tosses the cookie back down and reaches for her cheek. She gasps and looks up at him, her blue eyes soft, “I’m not saying this to make this harder. I’m being honest with ourselves, because,” he looks at her eyes and then her lips. She swallows hard when she sees him looking there. Her heart starts to race in his chest as he moves in closer, “because I know all we have is five days and I want to make the most of it. I’ve only known you for a few hours but what I feel with you is something I know will last forever.” 

The moment he says this he feels like he’s just put his heart own on his sleeve. Something he has never done. There was no taking it back now. He’s never had a relationship like this before, he prays to God he didn’t just mess it up. He starts getting afraid when she doesn’t respond, she just stares up at him. His eyes swell up slightly and he wants to add that it’s okay if she didn’t feel the same. 

But No. he didn’t not want to lose this. So he slides his hand from her cheek even higher up the side of her head through her hair and watching her, “Please tell me you feel the same.” His voice is low and full of emotion. Hopeful.

She’s never felt this. This had to be the boy of her dreams, and now she felt like the one that was dreaming all over again. Just three hours ago she never even knew this man existed, but all of a sudden she felt like she’s known him all her life.

She moves in closer and watches his Adam’s apple bobble up. The proximity was too much to bear. He was too much, and yet she wanted more. She wanted him.

And she only had five days. They had five days. 

And they were going to make the most of it. 

The moment her lips crashed onto his was a moment he wouldn’t forget. The fire that exploded inside of him was a bright red flame and it burned through his heart. Instinctively, he brings his other hand up as well and slides it to the other side of her face. She slides her left hand up his thigh and he growls against her mouth, their tongues meeting for the first time. It was fast, hard, and needy.

He raises himself up onto his knees so he’s towering above her still criss-cross body. Her hand raises up higher up his thigh and he feels her delicate fingers reaching in his waist band. He growls against her mouth once more.

She uses his belt loop to bring his body downwards as she uncrosses her legs and lays herself down onto his bed. Bucky’s right leg drops down the side of the bed and accidentally kicks the glass over. They’re lips still stay connected and he’s bringing his right hand to the strap of her dress, and now Ella’s voice sounds like a goddamn melody. 

He’s about to pull her strap further down but he stops himself. 

He pulls away and they’re both breathing heavily, Daisy whimpers at the distance he puts between their lips. The sound makes him want to go back to what he was doing, but he stops himself. 

She’s about to question him when he places her strap back against her clavicle. He pats it down gently and the act makes her laugh. His lips are swollen and she kisses them one more time. He moans into her mouth. She pulls away and lets him speak. 

“I want to know you, too.” He says. 

“We will. We have five days.”

 +  +  +

Her legs had curled up against her chest as she laid on her side, a single finger making soft patterns against his chest. It moved up and down sharply as his breathing became affected by what her touch was doing to him. He had stared down at her finger and then grabbed it diligently. She watched silently as he used his right hand to unfold her twirling fingers and fold it with his, holding it against his body. 

She looked up at him incomplete awe, her eyes drifting down to his approaching lips. He dipped his head just slightly as he brushed his lips against hers. 

They had stayed up all night talking about their goals, and what they loved to do. Daisy was a simple, innocent,, young girl. She loved dancing and flowers and she also admired the simplicity of innocence. She grew up in a Christian household and her morals were up there. They both laughed together when she brought up the fact that she never would’ve had thought she’d be cuddled in bed with a man she met only hours before. 

They commented about their families, how Bucky’s little sister had been taken away from him not too far back, about his mother’s death. 

“What about your father?” She had asked. 

Bucky remained quiet as he stared up at her. She noticed his change in demeanor and her eyes squinted. Bucky let go of her hand and switched his position from on his side to on his back. He brought his leg up and folded his hands on his chest.

He felt her shift and lean against him. He looked over and saw her resting on her elbow, her left hand drifting up his neck and into his hair. She pulled on it slightly making him close his eyes. 

“James.” She whispered, pleadingly. He opened his eyes and looking into hers. 

“He passed away,” he could tell she was going to start saying condolences as her mouth opened but he beat her to it, “this morning.” 

He thought she was going to start giving him sympathy, he expected it. But instead he felt her rest her head on his sturdy chest. He was taken aback at first, but then smiled softly and took in a deep breath. He allowed his hand to snake in through her soft blonde hair.  

“You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” He swallowed as he felt her hand skim against his chest, feeling him. He didn’t want to push her into anything and was thankful that her hand just went to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers, “I can tell.”

“I want to be with you. And when I get back from war, I want to be with you again.” 

+  +

She knew she was taking a risk by inviting him over to her house, but she had wanted him to meet her family. Sure this was fast, but how long did they truly have together? She obviously remembered the stories her mother told her.

Underneath the anxiety, love, and happiness she felt as he helped her mom cut the carrots, she genuinely hoped her parents would love him, too.   

“How long have you known this boy, Daisy?” Her mom had asked over her shoulder as she washed some lettuce and tomatoes in some cold water in a bowl under the sink. Daisy bit her lip. Her mom noticed her hesitate, “ Daisy .” 

Her tone was judging and all too motherly. Daisy looked up and saw her mom giving her a glare that quickly told her that she didn’t like where this was going. Daisy felt defensive. 

“Momma, before you judge me, he’s an amazing gentleman and I fully trust him with everything,” she saw her mom shaking her head to herself and murmur something but the sound of the sink water drowned it out. Daisy got up exasperated and walked over to her mom, “Think about it, when was the last time I brought a boy home? You know I don’t bring just anyone. You are going to love him.” 

Her mom smiled and looked over at her, shutting off the water.

“You are lucky I’m me and not your dang fatha’, Daisy.” She washed two more tomatoes, “Do you?”

Daisy gaped at her, not really know how to respond to that. To be fully honest she didn’t really think about it. When it came out while she was cuddly with Bucky earlier that day, it was natural and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But it seemed to soon to tell, but yet not fully impossible. She’d never felt the way she felt that when she was with Bucky. She felt heat creep up into her cheeks and her mom started to smile. The moment was interrupted by a strong voice.

“Love who?” 

Both Daisy and her mother’s face fell at the heavy tone that washed over them like pure ice. Daisy’s eyes drifted up to her dad who was standing in the door way. He held a cigar in his right hand, his leather covered foot tapping away. He eyed them both, clearly he was eavesdropping and was not liking where this conversation seemed to have been going.

Daisy gulped. She looked down and fidgeted with her fingers. 

“A boy, daddy.”

“Daisy invited him for dinner.” Her mom added casually, draining the water out of the bowl with her hands. The silence was deafening. Her dad could tell she was avoiding his gaze. 

He chuckled maniacally as he tapped his cigar with his pointer fingers, some ashes tickling towards the freshly mopped floor. Daisy watched as if it were poison. Suddenly, she was very fearful.

“Is that so?” 

Daisy nodded, finally looking up. Her dad looked serious, territorial even. 

“Charles, quit scarin’ her. I hear he could be the one.” Her mom winked at her. 

Her dad squinted angrily, “The one? And I’m just now hearing about this kid?” He walked over to his wife and rubbed her back soothingly, still giving Daisy a disapproving look, “and did I just hear love?”

Daisy groaned in aggravation, running her hands through her curls, “Mom, stop that.” Daisy sighed as she wiped her hands on her little dress and walked back over to the stool that sat on the far side of the large kitchen, “he’s a great guy. Daddy, I know that, it’s why I invited him today.”

“I just don’t get why I’m not meeting this damn boy.” 

Daisy flinched at his tone, “Daddy, please.” 

“Then explain it to me!” 

Daisy dropped her face into her hands, “I was just worried about you meeting him because he’s not the typical guy you go for. But I do care about him, please, just give him a chance. He’s very sweet.”

Daisy practically felt her father roll his eyes. She looked up and saw a snarl on his face.

A soft knock on the door and Daisy immediately flew out of her seat to open it. Her dad made a comment to Daisy’s mother about agreeing to this in the background, but Daisy was now momentarily too excited to care. She took a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. 

She opened it and the moment her eyes landed on him, her heart went soaring and she literally felt herself smile. All the anger and fear she felt before dissipated. His reaction was mirrored to hers, his pearly whites making her blush hard. His gorgeous eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. He looked perfect in a soft black suit, underneath it is a  white dress shirt, but the top button undone. His hair was in a small quiff and shiny from his pomade.

She extended her hand out to take his in hers and pulled him inside playfully hard. They both giggled together, Bucky’s face leaning down to kiss the top of her cheek. She hadn’t realized how hard she really pulled him until he stood right in front of her, their fronts touching. She was blushing as he stared down at her face and then her lips. 

He tilted his head slightly and started to lean down, and her eyes drifted shut, when the moment was interrupted but a cough.

“So you must be the boy Daisy won’t stop going on about.” 

Bucky pulled back, red tainting his cheeks. At that moment he realized he had just been caught almost wanting to devour this woman’s daughter’s mouth right in front of her.  He stepped back bit and straightened out his back and cleared his throat. 

He brought his one hand across his chest and with the other he extended it out for a handshake. No longer lust in his eyes, he was now completely serious, his mission being to impress a high class family. Her mom smiled at how charming he was.

“Mrs Davis.” Bucky greeted with a firm shake and smile.

She could tell by his strong handshake that he had been raised well. She exchanged looks with Daisy, who clearly looked terrified and expectant of what her reaction to him would be. She looks back at Bucky.

“Daisy never mentioned your name.”

“James, mamn.”

“That’s a strong name.”

Everyone looked up to follow the voice. Charles stood there tall and brooding, another cigar in hand. Bucky stretched out his arm once more, too eagerly this time, “Please to meet you, Mr. Davis.”

Bucky waited as Charles stared down at Bucky’s hand, not taking it and clearly not wanting to anytime soon. Bucky stood there awkwardly, fear and rejection creeping into his guts. He slowly lowered his arm, Charle’s gaze not leaving his face.

“You live on the upper east side, too? What’s your Street? You’re dressed like a damn paper boy.”

Bucky’s face fell immediately and Daisy inwardly groaned. 

Bucky licked his lips nervously and then fixed his back to stand taller as if to appear powerful. There was no way he was going to let this man tear him down. 

“No, sir,” He hates that his voice is shaky. He gives Daisy a nervous side glance and then back to her dad, “I live in Brooklyn, sir.”

Her dad frowned and both Daisy and her mother knew this was going to go down fast.

“Brooklyn,” his tone was disapproving, “What do you do for a living, boy?”

Daisy took a step next to Bucky, “Dad, that’s enough.” 

Bucky frowned and realized Daisy hadn’t really told them close to anything about him. While he understood, he was now dreading the whole entire conversation that would go down. Him and Daisy shared a look before Barnes looked back up at Charles.

“I’m in the military, sir.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow as soon as the words left his lips, then a scoff. Daisy looked up to his her mother’s face fallen and sad. 

Bucky’s eyes darted between Daisy and her father, suddenly realizing that something that he said was not good.

“Sir, was something I said -“

“Daisy, tell me hows a boy who doesn’t have a real job suppose to be with my daughter? A goddamn soldier? Jesus.”

“For heaven’s sake, Daddy!”

“Charles, stop that!” 

Daisy’s mother’s angry voice made everyone go silent at once. Bucky felt small, wanting to fade away into the ground below him.  

Charle’s scoffed, tossing his cigar at Bucky’s beat up dress shoes. It was the best pair he owned and even those were not his best. He swallowed hard, trying to not feel small and sad.  

“I’m gonna get Jimmy and then we can eat.”

Bucky stared down at the cigar at his feet, his heart feeling heavy. “A goddamn soldier”. 

It replayed over and over in his head.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand on his back. He looked up and saw Daisy staring down at him, sad.

“Just a goddamn soldier, Daisy?” He motioned upwards with his hand. “What is this?”

Daisy looked down, “James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone.” That actually did help Bucky feel slightly better as he stood up taller. Daisy’s hand reached up as she cupped his cheek, “And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why.”

Bucky stared at her for half a second, doubting every word, before he simply complied and nodded. He smiled slightly. 

+ +

 The dinner was quiet and tense, and over much too slowly. Bucky had quickly pulled Daisy out into the hallway to say goodbye before he left, groaning into her mouth how he was never going back in there ever again. They both laughed and kissed.

And now here they were at the bar, the night before he had to leave. Bucky didn’t want to leave, because he had a feeling that this would be one of the last few days he would have any peace and serenity. His gut was twisting and turning as he played with the strand of her hair between his thumb and pointer finger. As his gaze drifted from her lips to her blue eyes he just knew deep inside that this is exactly the kind of feeling he wanted to be feeling for all of eternity.

He felt it when he touched her, when he looked at her, and when he held her in his arms. 

It was like a wave of fresh air that reminded him of home - Daisy was his new home. He knew it happened fast, they all did, but sometimes true love doesn’t have to be complicated. When its meant to happen, it just simply happens. It’s simple as that - as simple as him tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her that pearly white smile that made the cheeks on her face turn a crimson red.

She leaned her forehead onto his as he held her close by her waist, the piano in the background that was once haunting, now insanely beautiful exactly like the woman in front of him. 

When Bucky had told Steve he might ask her to marry him one day.

Those words Steve said kept ringing in Bucky’s head, even as he now held Daisy in his arms, but they meant absolutely nothing to him. She was his sanctuary, his now, and he would take it by the hand.

He would take advantage of these last few hours he had with her and he would pretend all is good in the world and it would stay that way. It had to.

He kept telling himself that so he, himself, could believe it. The truth was it was all going to go downhill, he could tell.

He knew that once he left for New Jersey tomorrow that he wasn’t going to automatically be drafted into war, there wasn’t a necessary need just yet. But his father had told him the speculations of how the US wanted to go after the Nazis, and he knew there was something else his father wasn’t telling him, and it would not be long before hell broke loose. 

That’s when Steve and all the others would eventually be even more so analyzed and drafted, and so would Bucky - without a doubt.

Sure, he was courageous. It wasn’t that he was scared to go, but he needed to be certain that Daisy would always be safe. He would surely miss the moments of having her in his arms, safe and happy. 

Softly, he took her left cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her cheek bone,. He needed to take advantage of this moment that was staring them dead in the eye. He needed to. It didn’t matter how fast it was, how much he wanted to treat her preciously, and how much he respected her faith. He needed her. 

“Come to my apartment with me,” he noticed her gulp and her mouth opened slightly. Daisy’s mouth went dry and she watched his usual blue eyes turn a heavy grey.  Bucky smiled slightly, “I don’t want to seem like I’m making you do something you don’t want to, but I just…” his voice drifted off as his gazed dropped slightly. His eyes became clouded with disastrous visions of the future.  He blinked it quickly away, wanting to just see the image of Daisy underneath him. Just her and her pearly white skin and those gorgeous lips kissing him. 

At that moment Daisy knew exactly what he was asking.

She was a virgin and she had mentioned that to him when they started talking about the topic of her faith. She technically wasn’t supposed to be engaging in anything that was sexual before marriage to which Bucky simply nodded. At that moment, he decided he wouldn’t be too strong on her nor mention anything of his past sex life which would surely leave her blushing. He loved fucking.

But as she stared at him right then and there, realizing this could be the last moment where they’re both happy together and not  having to worry about anything, she wanted just exactly the same thing he did. She closed her eyes tightly together and leaned her face closer to his, giving him a deep and sexy kiss on his top lip, biting it as she pulled away. 

Bucky practically growled at her action, never seeing this side of her. Daisy was innocent, a classy lady, one that should always be treated as such. Sure, he knew of her passions for burlesque and lingerie (when she told him he had practically tried not to cum right then and there in his bed), but that was a dirty little secret that he concluded shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. She was always that beautiful, young, and morally behaved girl that stole his heart.

When she let go of his top lip, which was definitely throbbing now, he narrowed his lusty eyes at her and took it as a sign of acceptance.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly shaking the whole time he walked her to his dungy little Brooklyn apartment. He looked straight adorable in his little Italian flat hat and suspenders, his coat draped across one of his arms, the other holding her hand as he slid his key into all three locks of the door. 

She swore she could see him shake a little too when they had gotten inside and he put his coat on the tiny kitchen table and he turned to her. 

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the air between them hot and utterly thick. 

He eyed her up and down and swallowed hard. She wore a beautiful black dress that covered every single part of her that he now wanted to see exposed to him. 

Her lips were slightly red from the many kisses they shared on the way to the apartment, and her pinup eyeliner was so damn pretty as it shaped her eyes to perfection. She was damn gorgeous and she knew it. 

He slid off his dress shoes and then walked over to where she was standing. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his stunning blue eyes traced her body. The moment he finally stood before her, he realized he didn’t want to do with her what he did with every other girl.

He lifted his left arm to the side of her neck and watched her chest fall rapidly up and down. He grabbed her there lightly, and then slid it down the side of her body, eyeing the beauty that was simply her. 

“James.” 

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along over to his bed. She looked down at him as he stared up at her, in awe and in love. She brought her hands to his face and touched his perfectly combed hair, smiling.

She stopped when he laid his hands over hers and brought it down between them. His face was now serious as he whispered, “Lay with me.”

He wanted to make love to her tonight. 

Did they and it was slow and tender. 

+ +

Bucky had told Steve he’d be back soon. It wouldn’t be too long - maybe a month, maybe even a few weeks. Bucky stepped onto the steam train and Steve and Daisy had stood next to each other as they waved him goodbye. The moment he sat down in his seat and the vision of the love of his life and his best friend became nothing but silhouettes, he threw his head back against his cold seat, taking a deep breath. He made a vow to himself that now was the time to make himself, his father, and his country proud. 

The only thing he wanted more than his girl was to save the lives of every person he possibly could. 

He took an additional deep breath, running a damp hand over his face. He stared up at the iron ceiling as the train swayed side to side and up and down over the slightly uneven tracks, making its way south.  

He fidgeted uncomfortably as each horrible made up scenario of what could happen when he arrived went through his mind. He wondered if the chief and sergeant would agree that he’d be as fitting as his father in taking his place and if he’d make the best soldier he always wanted to be. 

He took a deep breath and simply leaned his head against the glass. 

His blue eyes watched as the scenery of green and trees became the last of peace that he had a feeling he would feel for a very long time.

+ +

Wheaton, New Jersey

 The train ride wasn’t long; a little over an hour which was just enough time for Bucky to take his well-needed nap. When he had arrived at the station, he had noted the Jeep he was told that would pick him up along with two others who were on board. He didn’t even bother to meet up with them while onboard the train, wanting to take as much time to himself as he could, knowing it was probably his last opportunity.

The Jeep zoomed down a dirt road and through an intimidating metal gate. Bucky watched as young men ran around the perimeters, training intensely. Others were talking amongst each other as they took their break, sweaty bangs dangling onto their foreheads. 

They looked at him in curiosity as his car sped towards its destination, probably wondering what was so special about this guy that he had to get to where he was going so quickly. 

Suddenly, the car came to a heavy jolt and a hand slammed down beside him on his seat announcing their arrival. He jumped slightly at the intrusion but took a deep breath and opened the dingy door. 

As Bucky stepped off the jeep and into the dirty mud of his new camp, he knew he needed to find his uniform and combat boots as fast as he could. 

He stared down in a slight grimace at his freshly destroyed dressed shoes - he had just gotten them shined. He scoffed to himself and dragged it’s front against a random dry patch of grass trying to get off as much as he could. A young man jogged by, kicking some mud up onto Bucky’s new pants. Bucky looked on at the man as he ran, a look of anger written all over his face.  

From a distance (from beneath a random tent that provided cover for a rest area, Colonel  Douglas Smith watched in amusement the entire scene unfolding.

“This is Barnes’ son? The sniper?” He snarled under a grimace. He turned his head and gave Williams a disappointed look.

Another man -Williams- which sat to his left, looked towards Bucky’s direction over his daily newspaper. He watched on along with Douglas and smirked as Bucky looked around, lost. 

His eyes drifted to Smith and then back down at his paper,  giving it a slight smack, “Yes, sir.” humor tinted his voice heavily.

Smith shook his head in wonder as Bucky dusted off a piece of lint that was on his coat’s collar, “He better be right about this, or I swear to God.” 

Bucky’s eyes scanned his vicinity, eyes narrowing diligently. His eyes finally landed on someone who seemed to be who he should be looking for, judging by their attire and posture of authority. Also, the fact that they had been looking at him first.

“He seems too pretty to be as good as they say.”

“His father says he is the best.”

Colonel Smith eyes Bucky up and down as he made his way over, sporting his new suit and fresh suspenders. As soon as he reached the two men, Bucky nodded at each one and took off his Italian flat hat, tucking it into his armpit revealing a perfectly groomed gorgeous head of hair drenched in pomade. 

He reached out with his right arm for the Colonel to shake with a bright smile on his face, “James Barnes.”

“Colonel Douglas Smith,” he nods over to the man sitting down who seems very busy jotting something down, “This is Sergeant William of the one-oh-third.”

“Colonel. Serg.” Bucky confirms with a nod to each.

“Sit, boy.” Colonel demands with a motion of his hand in front of him. Bucky politely abides as he pulls out a chair to sit himself down. Bucky places his hat down in front of him and takes a deep breath, “First, I’d like to give you my condolences.”

Bucky momentarily stalls as his eyes drift back and forth between both men, but then clears his throat nodding, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your father was a great man. Quite a fighter used to say he raised you from young to be the same way.” Colonel eyes Bucky up and down. Bucky gulps, finally feeling the pressure he had been slightly dreading from the beginning. He knew they were expectant of him, and now he was here to prove it and he wasn’t sure he had the balls of steels he had one day ago, “That true?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Yes, sir.” He leans down to reach into his briefcase and pulls out a beige file. He puts it onto the table and slides it across to Colonel. Smith is impressed by his promptness and professionalism and sees William smile from his peripheral. 

“What’s this?”

Bucky clears his throat once again, “Dad trained me for many things,” he took a brief glance around the base, “I experienced boot camp at the age of fifteen. I’ve done long races, obstacle races, everything that tested my endurance, boxing, running- both in the rain and scorching heat. I’ve bled, I’ve learned not to cry and hold my own. I know tactics, I know what it takes to be a soldier, sir,” Bucky notes their faces still hold no expression of amazement he was looking for and he feels his palms sweating harshly, “My father did it so I knew how to be strong and prepared for when the time was right.” 

Colonel Smith crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, not yet touching the paper in front of him. Bucky looked on in simple embarrassment from Smith to his folder, wondering if it was pointless to show as much pride as he did.

 Smith’s strong voice makes Bucky jump when he starts talking, “You think that because you’ve trained since you were a young boy, but clearly have no experience being on the front line, that you are an American Soldier?” 

 Bucky automatically becomes defensive and his posture becomes confident. He didn’t like the nagging, the accusation of something he was not. That’s when he realized, he needed to prove himself. He was good, and they wanted to see it. 

He leans closer to the table and crosses his hands out in front of him, “No, sir, of course not. Not yet,” His voice was strong and clear. The colonel sat there waiting for what Barnes had to add, “I have no experience yet with being in a war, not yet. But I have other experiences, first-hand experience.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Guns.” Both Smith and William now give Bucky their full attention, looking straight at him in total interest. Smith even moves up closer to Bucky.

Bucky is almost one hundred percent more confident now than he was ten minutes ago because now he’s finally talking about something he knows he can own up to well. This he enjoyed immensely.

“Sure. Your file we have here does show you are good with targets, that you know what weapon is best for what, that you helped your father when it came to assembling and reassembling them for the troops, and that you are great at knowing the anatomy of a gun but many here can do that with intense training. What do you have that the others here don’t, James?”

The colonel was pressing now, and Bucky at that moment realized that what he was doing was not because he didn’t see a reason to not trust Bucky, but more so so he could prove himself, and this was his chance. 

Bucky looked Colonel Smith straight in the eye with a snarl. He slammed one finger down on the table in front of them, “I’m not just good with targets. I hit them all.”

“I do not miss. This file,” Bucky again slams his finger down on the folder in front of them, “There are diagrams, spreadsheets, rough drafts, charts, and all my grades for every algebra, geometry, physics, and trigonometry class I’ve ever taken. All As. It also includes my use of Pythagorean theorems.” Colonel raises an impressed brown and opens the file. His mouth is slightly agape as he reads on what is pages and pages of mathematical equations, transcriptions, and each a different weapon usage. 

For a cocky good looking guy, Bucky was clearly very very intelligent - a closet nerd.

“I might no be a soldier yet, but I’m already a good fucking sniper.” 

William and Smith are smiling now as they see Bucky in the way they wanted to, “Look, I’ll go out there tomorrow if you need me to. Sure, I’m a kid, but that just means I have the time to learn more. I’m ready to fight.” 

Colonel stares at Bucky for a beat. He nods, takes the folder in his hands, and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, “You will be here to assist Serg. William and I. And then we’ll see where we take you from there. We want a hard-headed kid here to help get these other guys in order.” His voice was softer now as he spoke on, “Soon, we’ll be out there in the real world and I feel you’ll do fine, kid. Your health record looks great, I saw your previous training records here at the base and they are impeccable,” 

“Thank you, sir-“

“but,” Bucky swallows hard. Smith hands the file over to William, “We want you to focus on shooting. And train these damn ass kids that this isn’t just a game. William will escort you to your temporary quarter.” 

 Bucky nods and stands up, a wide grin on his face as Smith initiates the handshake this time, “Good luck, Kid.”

+ +

Letters.

That's how he spoke to her for two years. He missed her, he missed Steve, and he missed school. He missed Brooklyn, but he missed her most of all. She was everything he had ever wanted and more. 

They refused to lose touch, but it seemed to have gotten harder the longer he spent time away from her. He almost started forgetting what it was she looked like and he did not like that at all. 

He hoped more than anything that she didn’t forget what he felt like, what his cock felt like the inside of her pretty self. God, he missed her so much. 

He’d be laying down in the bunker after one of her letters where she’d admitted that she missed all of his body, and suddenly he’d find himself a panting mess, a hand wrapped around himself. No other women in his life made him cum as much as she did. She was perfect.

Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.

He would pick up his pen and start writing.

Daisy, 

 I’ll be home soon, my love. I want and miss you, too. 

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”. 

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye- 

“James!” 

Bucky jumped up looked upfront his lap from where he was writing to see Williams looking at him in curiosity, waiting. 

“Be right there, Sergeant.” 

Take care of Stevie for me, Daisy. Be careful, both of ya. 

Much love,

Bucky

+ +

He’s standing in front of the men, showing them how to correctly calculate the wind and kickback of a PPSh-41. Ten iron cans laid on the grass as Bucky allowed his gun to swing back towards him. He smirks and slides it back into place in the holster around his waist. 

“Johnny, you’re up.” Bucky would announce each boy’s turn until they’ve all managed to hit all targets. Some of them taking more thirty tries each to succeed.

As much as he’d try and teach them how to properly shoot each and every gun they had on hand, it was evident that they’d never be as good as him.

But there were good in other aspects, some of which actually reminded him of Steve back at home.

“Faster.” Bucky would demand as he walked in front of them as they did fifty push-ups each. He knew they could handle it.

Williams and Smith watched from afar as Bucky’s men eventually became some of the strongest and most courageous they’ve seen in a long time. 

They shared a knowing look and Smith gave a small nod.

Bucky’s gaze drops from the men he’d grown to love down to his feet. He didn’t expect to be there for two years. He didn’t think he would go that long without seeing Daisy, but they ended up loving having him there.

 Within weeks he had the entire infantry under his finger. At first, he wasn’t too keen on yelling at them at what to do and how to do it, but with time he realized it was for their best and they realized that too. He was actually not a complete asshole when it came to bossing everyone around, but to be fair it mostly had to do with the fact that they were all not too much younger than him either, some even older. 

+ +

It had been Friday night when Bucky had everyone in their bed by 8 o clock, without a complaint or disobedience.

Bucky sat in his little office under the vintage desk light as he was reading one of Daisy’s latest letters, where she spoke about how her father had come home briefly but was quickly leaving for Siberia within a few weeks and how much she was dying to hold Bucky back in her arms again. 

She kept begging and begging him non stop. 

Bucky’s face was crestfallen as he wrote back that he promised he would be back, and that he had to talk to her about something special when he saw her again for the first time.

Truth was, he was going to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her even if it was from such far away. Bucky was tucking the letter into the envelope when someone cleared their throat from his left.  

His head snapped and he smiled when he saw it was colonel Smith.  

“Bucky, mind if we speak for a second.” Bucky nodded his head and tucked the letter in his back pocket. The colonel noted this with a nod, “That for the lady?”

Bucky smiled slightly, although it was also sad, “Yeah. Miss her,” 

Colonel patted a hand on his shoulder, “I know, kiddo.” 

They were about to go into Colonel’s office when Smith turned around. Bucky practically walked into him, not expecting him to stop so suddenly in his path. Bucky’s face was serious and he felt worried at the tension that quickly grew, “What is it, Colonel?”

Contemplating before speaking, he looked over Bucky’s shoulder, “The men love you,” 

He looked back at Bucky, “You’re good. Really good.”

Bucky should’ve been proud of his words (he was slight) but he could tell something was going on. Smith’s tone and his eyes were off, something was clearly up. 

“What’s going on?”  

The colonel looked down. It looked like for a second that he was going to back out on telling Bucky. But clearly this wasn’t something anyone could control anymore, “They want them in.”

World War II had merely started about a little over a year ago. Nazi Germany was at its peak and troops were being sent out constantly. Bucky knew there were several infantries being sent in, along with the heavy draft. Bucky had spoken to Steve back at home and Steve kept mentioning about the guys all being deployed out, but not all. They were still trying to recruit more as time came, seeing who was eligible and who wasn’t. Bucky tried to convince Steve as much as possible to quit trying to join the army, to stop lying on his forms to get accepted.  

At their base, they were training until they were to be pulled out.

And now was the time.

“But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.” 

Bucky’s heart plummeted for a fraction of a second.  He wondered what else he possibly had to say. 

Colonel turned into his office and allowed Bucky to follow behind. Bucky closed the door behind him, reluctantly and with a hard swallow. 

“There’s a group being deployed in two days. To England, the one-oh-seventh.”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat. Pride filled deep within his gut and he tried to contain as much excitement as he could. 

Smith went around his desk, “We agreed that you’re more than suitable to be deployed as well. So you’ll be with them.”

Bucky smiled. It was finally his time. It wasn’t just his men, but him as well.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks. The week before you’ll be allowed one week at home to see your friends,” Colonel looked at the letter that was peaking out behind him, “and your girl.” Bucky felt like he was going to cry from excitement at this point. Colonel’s face was still serious, “we want to assign you as an official Sergeant.”

The earth seemed two have shifted for a moment while Bucky processed the words. He couldn’t believe they would want him to serve at that level. Bucky’s brows raised in surprise as he stood motionless.

A soldier he always knew he would become one day, it was practically in his blood, but “Sergeant?”��

“Yes, sir.” Smith crossed his hands out in front of him and stared up at Bucky, hopeful, “I knew the moment you started talking that you were different. You’re good, you’re loyal, you’re a true born soldier just like your father always said you were. You wouldn’t dare lay a hand on something unless they were worth it. You know how to take charge and you’re willing to be on the front line.”

That same image of a tormented child being strangled to death by a hand flicker’s through his mind's eye, except now the kid is thrown against a brick wall, completely deceased.

Bucky swallows hard, “My men, they will be with me?” He knew the answer because he was already told upfront but Smith but he needed to be sure. He needed to know all of them would be there by his side when he killed Schmidt.

“Yes. Drafting starts soon, son. You’ll be home for a little bit to say goodbye.” Smith smiled, “Go get your girl.”

+ +

He’d made sure all their beds were made before they all left to say goodbye to their loved ones one last time, and he made his as well. What good Sergeant would he be if he weren’t the best example if he were a hypocrite?

He hadn’t told Steve nor Daisy that he was coming home- wanting it to be a surprise. He stepped off the train, a tailored uniform, his new Sergeant cap on his head, and a pin on his left chest. He was ready. 

A sharp wind blew in from the west, making him frown slightly in pain. The January air burned him like fire but yet gave life at the same exact time. This was reality and it was like a slap to the face. He was here to say goodbye. 

Bucky had grabbed a paper from the boy at the train station and saw something about Howard Stark’s Expo and he felt like a little boy all over again. He loved Howard Stark, to be frankly honest he was quite a nerd for it. Not only did he make the best weapons that Bucky would love to have his hands on one day, but he also loved how smart and genius he was. How he was never afraid to reach the unreachable and to do what no one else had the guts to. He would kill to meet him one day and just tell him how amazing he was.

So he had to go to his expo before he left. He was ready to see his best friend and his girlfriend and that’s exactly who he was going to go with.

Bucky had been walking excitedly from the train station to Steve’s house, but he was not expecting to see him getting beaten up by a gentleman in an alley outside a theatre. 

Anger blew up inside of Bucky as he ran towards the scene, “Hey!” He called out, grabbing both of their attention. 

When Steve saw Bucky his eyes lit up. 

Bucky grabbed the bully by his collar and kicked his ass while Steve watched from the corner of the dirty alley. 

“I think you like getting punched.” 

Bucky said as he helped Steve off the floor. 

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky decided not to comment any more on how Steve needed to lay off and instead wanted to spend the last few hours he had with his best friend and his girl. He told Steve about how he was sergeant now for the 107th and that he was leaving for England in the morning the next day. 

But he was also excited to share with Steve the one thing that Steve knew Bucky loved the most - Stark. When Bucky pulled out the newspaper that showed the expo that was happening that night, Steve notices the fanboy smile written all over his face. He couldn’t wait to pick up Daisy so they could all go.

When Bucky and Daisy saw each other for the first time, he had spun her around so hard her dress spun with her. Bucky kissed her so hard and she cried as she told him how much she missed him. 

Steve just stared back in boredom. 

“Are we going, or…?”

They both giggled and Bucky punched him playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, punk.”

The three of them walked into the expo. Steve was looking around in awe while Bucky had the biggest grin on his face as he held Daisy’s hand. She wore a beautiful dark drey below-knee dress and brown leather oxford heels and her lips were coated in the most beautiful shades of red. 

It was everything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Stark literally blew his mind, especially when he brought out the beautiful to die for women and then make a car fucking fly. Even if it was for just a second.

Bucky’s heart soared.

Daisy looked up at him wonder and she watched his face light up in pure happiness. She didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and that she could love someone so much. She raised her right hand up to his face as a firework went off behind his head in the sky. It was blue - the same shade of his eyes. 

He wasn’t expecting that gesture from her at that moment, so when he felt her soft little fingers on the side of his face, he snapped his head down to look at her. Her smile faded as he gave her a look of pure want.

She traces his lips with her thumb and leaned her head down on his chest. Her heart soared even more as he brought her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and then told Steve that they should call it a night.

Steve gave Bucky a tight hug and told him to be safe. 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky warned him with a smile.

When Steve split ways with the couple at his door, he knew exactly what they were up to. He was happy for his best friend, he just hoped they weren’t too emotionally involved more than anything. He didn’t want to see Bucky get hurt.

He looked at his best friend with a weird sorrow. He wasn’t sure why something in his gut was telling him that this happiness, this simpleness, was going to be very short-lived. 

+ +

When they had gotten back to his apartment, he had her against his door and his lips were on hers.

This was it.

 Snippets of that flash of that dead child kept hitting Bucky over and over as he kissed Daisy up against his door. 

He tried to get rid of those images as much as possible as he grabbed her gorgeous legs, pulling them around his waist.  

That seemed to have done the job perfectly because he felt himself growing hard for her. 

“Please.” She pleaded desperately over his lips. He pulled away from her for a second and just stared at her beautiful face trying to take it all in. Reality hit them like a truck as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. This was goodbye, for a while. 

He leaned in slowly, and this kiss was different. It was love and care, and so much need. A need for forever. He felt tears building behind his lids as the thought of never getting the chance of holding her like this ever again tried to take over his brain. She tightened her legs around him, her hands going to the straps of his belt.

“God, I missed you, Daisy,” He moaned against her mouth. He brought his right hand between her legs, pushing her panties to the side. He slid one finger from her clit down her slick slit and her head fell back with a thud against his door. She groaned out loud at the sensation that wracked through her body, “Missed the sounds you make. I love you so much.” He growled against her.

She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face away from her neck to kiss him deeply again. She nodded against him as her hips met the rhythm of his hand, confirming that she felt the same way. 

“Please take me, James.”

He walked them over to his bed and gently laid her down. She stared up at his lustful eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her dress bundled up at her waist.

Bucky didn’t waste two seconds to pull it off her. Next, she helped him pull off his uniform jacket and shirt, revealing his gorgeous abs that she wanted to lick over with her tongue. 

Next, she removed his pants. 

She slowly tucked her fingers into the underside of his underwear as she bit her lip. It was obvious that she was teasing him. 

“Just take it off.” He ordered. 

She did as told and practically whimpered as his hard cock was revealed to her. She sat up and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. 

When he saw her perky breasts, he leaned down and kissed her once more. The first time they had sex it was different. It was innocent and timid, but now that he knew her body and she wasn’t so shy anymore, it was more carnal. The first time was about opportunities and their future. 

But this, this felt like goodbye.

“I can’t wait, Daisy. I need you.” He confessed as he laid her down all the way. She nodded against his understanding.

He stretched out his left hand to hold onto the headboard while the other grabbed his pulsing shaft. She spread her legs and he slid into her with a long moan. 

He looked down at her and watched as she arched her neck back in pleasure, the nails of her left hand digging into his sides.  

“Faster.” She moaned. 

The other thing that was different about this time was how fast it was. The first time it lasted for almost an hour, they had made love in the most sensual way that left his skin crawling. This time they were both so close so fast, they just needed that release due to being away from each other for so long. 

She was practically screaming as he fucked her fast and oh so deliciously into the bed below her. It was so good that after only a few minutes she was looking down at the spot where they both met, her lips formed into a perfect o. 

She started nodding quickly. She cried. Bucky groaned as he twitched inside of her, his pleasure growing just as strong as hers. He was right behind her. He put his other arm up on the headboard too, letting his restless hips do all the work. 

All that was heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin and their moaning.

He picked up his pace as he stared deeply into the blue orbs. When she shut her eyes she let out a silent scream, and he felt her clench around his cock. 

That did it for him. He whimpered. 

He increased his speed until he felt his own end approaching, and it was going to be strong. When it did, he groaned, tightening his grips on the headboard, making it bang against the wall behind them.  He continuously slammed his hips harsh against her.

“Fuck.” He groaned slipping out of her. She watched in awe and as he stroked himself so fast his hand became a blur - little spurts of white falling over her pretty tummy.  

His eye drifted back to her face and he watched as a smile played on her lips. Her face was extremely flushed as she bit her bottom lip in a way that made him want to take her again. He chuckled lightly. It made his heart heavy, and he knew that now was the perfect time to ask her what he had been wanting for the last two years.

He let go of the bed and laid himself next to her. He placed his left hand above her hand and the other on the side of her face.  They watched each other in complete love before he kissed her long and hard.

When he pulled away, she felt him slightly shaking and noticed the look of nervousness in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever. 

+ + 

Diamond ring on her hand, big heart in his chest, Bucky Barnes had been ready to devote his life her and to love.

Life had other plans for him. 

Why be a husband when he could be brainwashed into becoming the Head of Hydra? 

Why love with his heart and soul when he could kill and become the world’s greatest assassin?

They’re at the New York Library. Steve stands behind him, hands in pocket and eyebrows furrowed together.

70 years later, Bucky detests himself for who he has become. He hates it all. He hates that he woke up.

His hand trembles as he reads the article. It’s worn out, ink faded.

YOUNG WOMAN, FOUND IN HALLWAY, SHOT

Reason unknown, ongoing investigation

The blonde 21 year old was found shot through the skull in the five story building but an other woman after a shot was heard. 

The woman states: “There was blood everywhere. It reeked of disaster. The poor girl was always so quiet and sweet.”

Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —

Bucky’s heart shattered, but those beautiful memories still stayed fresh in his mind.

Present 

You watched him from underneath your lashes as his chest slowly moved up and down. He looked deep in thought, as if his mind had been somewhere else, even though he was physically there. 

As his eyes examined you across the bed, you wondered what was going through his head. 

You were shocked when he stretched out his arm and you felt his hand run through your hair, letting his thumb linger over the back of your neck. 

“What does it mean?” He asks. His voice is deep and filled with emotion. 

He’s asking about your tattoo.

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly. 

His eyes were enthralling. 

“There’s no meaning?” 

“No.” You eyes leave his and you look out towards the direction of the dining area.

“Why did you get it?” He asks.

“It was in the moment. It felt like it would be thrilling; fun. The thought of forever made it even more so.” You say without a thought, letting your eyes close.

His hands don’t leave the back of your neck, and his touch remains gentle.

“You’re absolutely insane.” His tone has a chirp to it that you’ve never heard before and a near chuckle escapes your chest. He rubs his thumb there again it sends a jolt into your stomach. You open your eyes again to take a peak at him and the looks he’s giving you must’ve triggered something in your own appearance because his eyes furrow together, “What?”

“You reminded me of someone.”

He swallows thickly.

“Yeah?”

“Will.” You feel your throat grow tight at the mention of his name. Bucky senses a change in your tone and he knows that whoever this Will is, he had an impact on your life, “He died just a few days before Fury found me. He was my best friend. He was sweet, humble, funny, sarcastic, optimistic,” there’s a crack in your voice and Bucky’s breath hitches, “I loved Will. He was supposed to be here with me. We were coming to the Capitol together.” Bucky watches you intently as you speak so fondly of your dear friend. Emotions consume him and he’s in a warped daze, right hand that had been on your tattoo running up the side of your face and into your hair, “he was the only friend I ever had.”

Your eyes meet his and he sees in the tears in your eyes. He looks at you confused, fingers tightening in your hair.

“And then after I laid him to rest, I walked into the woods. I was crying and I was angry at him for leaving me. I fell down at slope, hurt my hand and my leg —” Bucky says your name quietly but you ignore him, “it was dark. I was afraid. But I wanted to continue on. Deep down I know I did. I needed to do it for Will. Then this man came and he was going to ruin everything, so I killed him. I had to,” it’s the first time you’re addresses your killing so verbally and so emotionally and it affects you more than you thought, “I had to kill him.” Bucky watches with concern as your fingers tremble against the sheets, “And then Fury found me and took me to your camp. I met Steve, and then I met you.”

Bucky pulls his hand away moments later. 

You both lay there in silence. It’s the most you’ve spoken to each other since the night he first fucked you. 

After you had sex in the kitchen, you both had separated quietly, going your separate ways until night time. You both slept on opposite sides of the bed and a couple feet apart.

It wasn’t even that it was awkward. There’s was just too much unsaid and still too much tension. You kept falling harder and harder, and you were getting weaker.

The next day you had gone to work and Bucky had found a plan to get into Ashen’s tower. 

A day later, you finally spoke again.

At nights it was the hardest. You hated his sudden silence.

You hated that you had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Your eyes met in an intense gaze. 

Bucky watched curiously as your left hand grazed over the sheets and up over his waist. You watched as his breath hitched, his breathing picking up. 

“What the hell are we doing, Bucky?” You asked sincerely. 

Part of you genuinely wondered if he was only doing this with you because you were the only girl available. 

“Fucking.” He spats out too quickly. He continues to watch you as tug your fingers into the band of his dark grey sweats, “we’re fucking.”

You feel a surge of energy build its way up your body. You don’t know if it’s lust or anger, and it scares you that you can’t distinguish it. You begin to wonder if possibly it’s both.

You move closer into him dragging his sweats down as best as you could. Bucky had to help you by lifting his hips off the bed for a second. He lets out a long breath as his length escapes the confinements of his pants. 

Your heart hurts as you take in his glorious body and his face. The face of a boy that you wished could give you more than this, the face of a boy that changed your life. 

Because even though he was pure man, you knew deep down inside he still felt young. He felt robbed. You hated that you wanted to take him in any way you could. You hated that you loved making him cum and that he let you.

Eyes darting down to his half soft cock, you lick your bottom lip. You take him into your hand, thumb sliding over his tip. Bucky lets out a tight moan. It comes out heavy and needy.

His reaction gives you a boost and you give him a few languid strokes. 

“Over the head, and under it.” He tells you with a gruff. You do as told, watching as pre cum oozes out of his hole. Bucky groans, stretching his right leg out. He mumbles something you can’t make out. Your look up to see him quickly lick his hand and the replace yours with his own over his growing dick, “Like this.” He curved it up towards his body and he teaches you how to stroke. You watch amazed as his flesh hand moves over his cock, noting how where his thumb and pointer finger meet focuses on the edge of the mushroom tip.

You put your hands over his and he lets himself go, letting you take charge again.

The feel of his saliva on your palm over his cock is filthy. Dirty. Fucking sexual.

You mimic his actions from earlier for about a minute until you decide to lick a strip up the underside of his shaft.

You hear him gasp underneath you and a heavy hand meets the back of your head. You look up at him timidly and he’s looking down at you. He looks as sinful as ever. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape. You can’t tell if it’s the pleasure you’re giving him or if he’s shocked. 

It kills him how innocent you look with your head between his legs. Your lashes are so long and pretty and, oh, your lips look small plush too. You keep eye contact as you flick the tip of your tongue over his tip and a whine escapes his throat. You do it again, and again.

“Oh my god.” He moans. You take him into your mouth little by little, careful to not let your teeth scrape him. 

You bob your head up and down, your right hand stroking what you can’t take down your throat.

You feel his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift pony tail and you groan around him. 

“Fuck.” He gasps at the vibrations. One of his hands leave your head but the other stays there, helping you; guiding you.

You sit up up until your butt is in the air, with him still in your mouth, and your place your hands on his thighs. You take a deep breath, and he watches as you lower your head down his cock, as deep as it could go. 

The chocking sounds are erotic to both your ears.

Bucky is breathing harder now and he takes your head in both of his hands, running his fingers gently down the sides as he slides you up and off his cock. 

When your eyes meet, his looks lust blown. His gaze is briefly on your now swollen lips, and then he composes himself, hands going down to the hem of your white camisole dress.

He helps you pull it off in one go followed by your underwear. As soon as it’s off your feet you go to sit up when he stops you.

He grabs your pillow and places it behind you. You sit back. Bucky gives your body a hungry look as he grabs each of your knees, bending your legs up. He gives them a shove away from each other.

You feel exposed and naked and you know he can see just how soaked you are. You whimper as he slides to fingers up your bare and freshly shaved folds. He lets out his own moan as he gathers your juices onto the tips of his fingers, smearing them over your clit.

Shocked, you watch as he leans down until his front is almost perpendicular to the bed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nibbling it as he makes his way to your center.

You feel his hot breath against your cunt as he tells you to put you to grab his head.

In a euphoric daze, you do as you’re told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he licks your clit. You feel two of his fingers spread your lips and then he’s licking at you, feeding on you like you’re his favorite meal.

You groan, shoving his head closer to your pussy. 

“Oh, shit.” You moan when he enters two flesh fingers into your as he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Your left leg kicks out as he sucks and sucks. You’re breathless as you look down, the sigh of his head between your thighs being the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, god.” You say. 

He looks up at you and you’re gasping. His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues to fuck you with two fingers, the tip of his tongue now flicking at you like mad.

You let out a heavy groan, your head tossing backwards in pleasure.

You feel him pull away and you whimper at the loss of feeling. You feel him grab the side of your waist and he’s pulling you against him until he’s back into the same position he was before. 

Bucky leans over the side of the bed and goes into his night stand. You don’t know how to feel when you see him grab a box of condoms.

Did he buy that? Did he know he didn’t want it to be just a one time thing? He didn’t want it to be a one time thing?

You rips box and tosses almost angrily, and when he’s got the foil in his hand, he tears the edge with his teeth.

He slides the condom over his dick and then gently grabs your arms.

“I’ve never…” you stutter as you sit on his lap.

“I know you haven’t, i’ll teach you.” He slides you up and down over his cock, coating it with your slick. You’re leaned over him gasping and he’s grinning his teeth, “You can ride my cock, can’t you?” He purrs up at you so deliciously you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. I want us to cum together.”

Your movements quicken as his words turn you on. He takes himself in his hand and rubs his tip up and down over your slit before finally pushing into your heat.

You both groan simultaneously. The pleasure is mutual and you both feel full and satisfied, for the first time. He’s gasping, both hands taking a hold of each side of your face.

He hates what this has become. He hates that his emotions are at an all time high right now.

His eyes look into yours as you move up and down and he remembers why he was so afraid of loving again.

As you move over him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something bad were to happen to you. As you fuck yourself on his cock, he knows he can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. He tried so hard to make you hate him and yet here you were, letting him fuck you.

You couldn’t like him. Not emotionally and not physically. It was for your own good. He was bad news, he knew he was.

Everything he touched always got destroyed. It always died.

He was cursed.

Your cunt gives him a perfect squeeze and he shouts.

“God, Y/N.” He cries, grabbing your hips and driving you down faster and harder. 

He bends his legs and the sound of your skins hitting echoes around the loft. 

Dirty.

Your hand goes to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously.

“Oh yeah.” You moan. He moans back in response, his own hips lifting off the bed to fuck into you.

He tells you to rest your hands on the pillow next to his head and you do so.

He grabs your hips and starts ramming up into you.

Looking down, his face is only a few inches from yours and you wished you could kiss him. You wonder if he can see past your lie of just wanting him for sex. You wanted so much more than an orgasm.

He was killing you.

With one of his ruthless trusts, he hits that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks and you feel your end approaching.

You’re breaths come out of your nose in sharp huffs, fingers curling into the pillow case. 

You scream when he leans himself up, taking the side of one of your breasts into his mouth. His nibbles you with a growl.

You know he’s getting close too because his eyebrows are tight together and there’s a thin sheet of sweat over his body.

You cum beautifully over his dick. You know you’re probably shouting but you don’t care because there is absolutely nothing that could ever feel better than this. He helps you drag it out and he rams into you and you look down to see his eyes tightly closed. 

You rub a thumb over the tops of his left cheek.

“Cum for me.” You whisper.

His mouth gapes open and he gives you a few more strong thrust before they start to falter. He lets out a loud and animalism grunt, followed by a slap to your right ass cheek.

You’re both panting as you collapse on top of him.

+  +

The building’s security infrastructure was a lot less advanced than Bucky had planned for, which was a great thing. He half expected to have to divert more cameras and more security. Especially for a Hydra centre. 

Or maybe he was just that stealthy. 

He had commenced his part of the mission earlier in the afternoon than he usually did, but that was because he wanted to see if he could catch Ashen this time. 

Just as planned, at three forty five sharp, Ashen and three other man came in through the main entrance. 

Bucky, having come in through a weak and dingy window across the building, watched from afar as they took the elevator. On cue, Bucky took the door to the stairwell. 

He made it quickly to the seventieth floor until he hear the familiar voice. Waiting until it was far enough and he could no longer hear anything, Bucky stepped out into the hallway.

He makes sure to avoid directly sight of any cameras he sees along the way. So many years as the world’s most dangerous assassin gave him the stealth and experience needed to do it successfully. He would go undetected.

The building was modern and gorgeous. There were glass panels and long hallways. Bucky followed the men from a safe distance until they finally walked into a room, closing the door behind them. Bucky tried to maneuver as best as he could without being seen. 

When he turned he saw something that left him stunned.

It was a medical bay, expect that there was just one bed.

He could see Ashen and those few men, who were now adorning lab coats.

What caught Bucky off guard was the little boy laying in the bed, unconscious. There were several tubs and IVs coming in and out of his little body. He was a strange color, almost light green. Ashen sat next to the boy, sad.

Bucky watched carefully as Ashen took the little boy’s hand in his.

“Hey, kiddo. Daddy got you a gift this time. It’s not the usual one you like, but I figured you’d still love it.” Bucky watched as Ashen pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a Hershey kisses. Ashen placed it on the bed, “You need to wake up, buddy. It’s the only thing left before we can figure this out. Please, Ashens.”

Bucky’s heart sunk as the kid’s father’s head dropped down onto the bed. His hand ran over his head, the other continued to hold onto Ashens’ hand.

“Sir?” One of the men in the lab coats speaks.

“Yes?” Ashen responds.

“We can hold him on the machines for a few more months, but if things don’t start to look up —-”

“I don’t want to hear it. He will wake up. He will stay on the machines until I say otherwise.” He snaps, “We already have Stark technology being detected within the walls, we can’t afford to lose guard now. We are getting closer!”

“Sir—”

“He’s my son!” He shouts.

Bucky starts to back away when he hears someone about to turn the corner. He hides behind one of the walls that lead into a room until the close is clear. He finds his way back the way he came.

He needed to find you.

+  +  +

“Pour me a Knob Creek on the rocks, sweetheart.” The man slurs, giving you a nod towards drinks behind you.

You tried not to groan as you gave him a fake smile. You quickly poured him the drink and slid it across the bar to the douchebag who wouldn’t stop eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“I’ll have the same.”

A voice says on the opposite side. You look over and you feel fear creep up in your bones.

Silas.

You nod, hands shaking as pour his drink.

He watches you closely.

“You nervous about something?” He asks.

You let out a shaky chuckle.

“No.” You say bluntly.

You slide him the drink and he takes it, but his eyes don’t leave yours. 

“I won’t bite.” He says.

You look away. Shit did he remember you?

“Didn’t think you would.”

You go to turn around when he grabs your wrist. Your blood runs ice cold and your freeze on the spot. You can feel your heart beating away inside of your chest.

His eyes are intense as they stay on you.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks.

You let out another chuckle.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a whore?”

His blunt question insults you. You know he means one of the call girls down stairs, but it still bothers you.

“I’m a bartender.” You insist.

“Bartender?” His grip tightens slightly.

He stares into your eyes and you feel threatened. 

Did he remember?

“Hey, everything alright out here?” You turn around, relieved to see Pietro behind you.

Silas quickly lets go of you and returns to his drink.

Pietro looks up from your wrist to Silas with a raised brow.

Your heart only calms down a bit before you clear your throat.

“You okay, Marina?” He asks you in the corner where Silas won’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pietro doesn’t believe you and you can tell by the way he looks at you.

“If you ever have any issues with anyone here, please let me know.” You nod, “Good. Have a good night, you did good today.”

You give him another short nod, still unable to breathe properly.

+  +

Bucky was standing out on the balcony when you came home. He looked to be deep in thought about something so you gave him the space he needed. You avoided the bedroom and instead hung out for a bit on the couch, trying to process what happened tonight and how you would tell Bucky. You knew for certain he was going to flip out. Or maybe it was just your paranoia and he would tell you to relax and that you were overreacting. 

You weren’t sure what would happen. 

Bucky doesn’t decided to come inside until you’re in the kitchen grabbing some left over take out from yesterday. He stands in the entrance for a few seconds before sitting down at the table behind you. 

“We need to talk.” He says.

You wait a few seconds before sitting in front of him. He’s looking down at his hand on his leg instead of at you.

He bites his lip and scoffs, disappointedly. 

What was going on?

He stands up, runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace around.

“We shouldn’t have done this. Any of this. It was a mistake. I knew it would’ve been bad. A distraction. We shouldn’t have done this.” His mumbling under his breath and not making any sense to you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You ask quietly and concerned. 

He walks over to the counter and slams his flesh fist on it. 

“What the fuck are we doing?”  He shouts, “We’re supposed to be working, focusing on this mission, and instead,” he spins around pointing out the kitchen, “instead we’re out there fucking, Y/N. We’re acting like a bunch of fucking animals, humping each other’s brains out!”

“Bucky —”

“I knew, I knew this would’ve been a bad decision. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You need two people to have sex, Bucky.”

“You should have never told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I never told you to fuck me. I was only telling you how I feel. That’s all I’ve been doing this entire time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted to fuck me, Bucky! You’re the one that bought a fucking damn box of condoms while I was taking a damn shower!” You’re angry now as you stand up from the chair, “Don’t you dare tell me this was all me or all you, this was both of us.” You jammed a finger into his chest, “You bought me fucking plan B just so I couldn’t get pregnant with your damn child and then you fucked me again not even an hour later. Don’t you fucking dare.” You can feel the tears in your eyes.

He grabs your fingers and walks you back until your back is against the wall. He snarls down at you.

“Then fuck it. We like to fuck. Either it’s me or you or both us, fine. But we shouldn’t have done it.” 

You want to push him away from you as you feel repulsed by him.

“Yeah? Was that what was going through your mind as you were shoving my head down your cock, Barnes? Making me choke on it? Or when you fucked me up against our window so our neighbors could see? I don’t have to fuck you ever again.”

“Good —!”

“—I literally told you I loved you and you attacked me for it—”

“—because it’s obviously only making everything worst—”

“—I then sleep with you, I gave you my virginity, and you have the audacity to stand here and say I seduced you when I gave you my innocence!” You shoved him away and he stumbled back. Your face felt red and you feel furious. You were shocked you weren’t crying, even though you felt like it, “Huh?” You give me another shove, “How fucking evil are you? You gaslighting piece of shit.”

He looked at you after that and your breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His face was stern and turned into a scowl as he looked down at you.

“I’m evil?” You took deep breaths through your nose to control yourself, “No, yeah you’re right, I am. I know I’m a piece of shit. I’m abnormal.” He spat the same words out you had used against him the other day, “I’m so damn evil, Y/N, that I’d rather try and focus on this damn mission than worry about getting laid.” You’re both breathing hard now. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah, maybe before I was thinking with my cock instead of my head, but it needs to stop now. Last night was the last time.”

You could feel your heart thundering away inside of you. You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the underlying discomfort in his eyes.

“What happened today?” You ask slowly, carefully. He doesn’t answer you and you start to get angry again, “I come home, I found you outside looking all depressed and now you’re in here snapping at me about focusing on the mission. What. Happened. Today?” You emphasize through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath again, looking away from you he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from you.

“They know we’re here. We weren’t careful enough.” He says.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach along with your worst fears.

“What?”

“They know we’re here! I fucking followed them and I overheard them. We either weren’t careful enough or —- I don’t know!” He’s pacing again, “Your parent’s must’ve put in some kind of tracker to make the capitol aware or something of stark technology or maybe Hydra pre installed something. Whatever it is, they know we are here, and for all I know they could be watch us right now. We fucked up.”

You watch him as he stresses over this. He grabs at his hair.

“They don’t know it’s us, Bucky. If they did they’ve would’ve caught us by now.” You tick your jaw as you watch the muscles in his back flex, “Something happened at work today, too. I think Silas remembered me.”

Bucky scoffs, turning around again to face you.

“There’s no way he remembers you. We wiped him.”

“Maybe you’re right, but he was acting off. He came to order a drink and he grabbed me —”

“He grabbed you?”

“Just my hand. I was fine. Pietro showed up, sensed the tension, and Silas backed off.”

“Fuck.”

You take a deep breath, stepping away from Bucky.

“You’re right,” you eye him up and down, “We can’t let it happen again. We need to focus on this and I’m already exhausted from you.”

“Exhausted from me?” His voice is a low timber now, the anger from before having died over.

“You don’t even know the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through, do you?” He continues to stare at you quietly and you take another step towards him, “You took something I can never get back.” You say quietly, “And it’s up for you to decide what that something is.”

+ + +

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

No, It's Definitely Funny

Prompt: Can I request a second part to "Let's Call It Funny" where Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Peter unite forces to confuse and concern all the other avengers (with at least one instance where two or all of them respond to something by pretending to jump off a building?) Love you! -Auggie

Does it count as being back on my bullshit if I never left?

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for gen z humor

Pairings: it's still found family hours

Word Count: 2259

Peter’s gonna be honest, he may or may not have some competition for the funniest person in the Tower right now.

Because let’s look at the list here:

Traumatized? Everybody and their private jet’s worth of vintage and designer baggage needs therapy.

Queer? If you think Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or Sam Wilson is straight, you need to tell them everything they’ve ever done to make you think they’re straight so they can stop doing it immediately.

Superhero? Yeah, okay, shush, now you’re being stupid.

Neurodivergent? Have you seen the way these men behave? Definitely the model of Perfectly Normal Person™, what on earth are you talking about, absolutely 100% Normal™.

The only things he’s still got going for him that the others don’t are high-schooler and trans. That’s not a lot when it comes to the fact that hey, two of them are from the Great Depression—let’s be honest, they’re the OGs when it comes to fatalistic humor—and they’ve all got years of practice.

Sure, Peter’s got some trauma-given raw talent, but it’s not refined by years and years of throwing yourself off of buildings and out of planes to avoid having conversations about your emotions.

The day Aunt Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files on the Internet and Peter found out that Steve yeeted himself out of a plane—without a parachute!—to avoid Nat’s prodding about getting a date was the best day of his fucking life.

“Don’t you go stealing my moves there, kid,” Steve had scolded playfully, winking over the rim of his mug.

“Try and stop me, I dare you.”

“And this is why,” Tony had sighed, looking every bit his 79 years—“Hey!”—as he watches this interaction go down, “you have a parachute built into your suit.”

“I’ll just wear my old one, don’t worry about it.”

“That heinous thing that’s just a cut-up old hoodie and goggles? Peter, no, that thing is being held together with safety pins and hope!”

“I mean, me too, so it’s fine.”

“Peter!”

“Also, like, it’s the one I almost got crushed to death in, so it’s got the emotional trauma seasoning already.”

“Wait—“ Bucky had sat up— “you almost got crushed to death by a building? Sheesh, kid, you’re really flirting with the reaper, huh.”

“It wasn’t so bad, I had training from the years and years of carrying the weight of my sins crawling on my back.”

“At least ask Death for his number next time, he’s not returning my calls.”

“Sergeant, I swear to God—“

“Actually, Death uses they/them pronouns, I asked when I met them last weekend.”

“What the fuck did you do last weekend?”

“Really? Oh cool, well, can you get their number for me? We had a date back in ’45 that they missed.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

“Tony, why are you screaming? Not keeping dates is a very serious matter.”

“Trust me, I speak from experience, Tony, it’s not a good habit to get into.”

“You should respect your elders and not scream while we’re talking to you, mister.”

“All of you shut the fuck up.”

See? On one hand, it’s great to have more partners in this venture of making Tony’s hair turn grey—he’s that age, it’s bound to happen any time soon now— “One more crack about my age, kid, I swear.” — but on the other hand, Peter is seriously losing his massive lead on funniest person in the Tower.

The other thing he’s worried about is Sam’s ability to make it so the others can’t actually worry about him.

Because—listen, Sam Wilson is a fucking national treasure and all you fuckers better acknowledge that. It’s no secret that the Captains take turns going out with the shield, all of them answer to ‘Captain America’ because that’s what they are, but no one—and Peter will never say this under threat of death because he does not need any more of the Steve Rogers’ Puppy Dog Eyes™, thank you very much—no one does it better than Sam.

And that means that Sam fucking Wilson can turn a fatalistic, self-deprecating joke into a motivational speech that doesn’t feel disingenuous or cliché at all and everyone is too busy processing the philosophical revelations they’re having to scold him for his, frankly, outstanding sense of humor.

It’s not fair and Peter can’t do it.

He tried. Once.

Didn’t go very well.

No, he’s not gonna talk about it, let’s just move on.

Sam has offered to catch him a couple of times when he gets himself a little too deep into the Mamma Spider™ or Iron Dad™ trap of feeeelings, and he gratefully scoots out of the way when Sam sits down next to him and just makes another joke.

Sam is also a fantastic role model for the brand of ‘I’m going to the store and only have twenty bucks, stop asking for your will to live back’ jokes.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go, bodega run.”

“Can we pick up some hopes and dreams, too, all of those got scribbled out in fat red Sharpie yesterday.”

“I said bodega run, not Court of Miracles run.”

“But Sam~”

“Listen, kid, if you manage to find your hopes and dreams in this bodega, keep an eye out for your childhood innocence, that might be on the next shelf over.”

“Deal.”

“Do you two need some more therapy appointments?”

“Only got fifteen bucks, man.”

“I’m literally a billionaire!”

Peter eagerly studies under this pinnacle of humor and keeps his worries to himself.

Because if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and Peter’s sense of humor is wonderful, but he is a tad intimidated by the amount of variety the others have got going for them.

“You’re a fucking terror, Spider-ling, that’s what you are.”

“Not true! I was ‘a pleasure to have in class.’”

“Oh, is that why you’re taking ‘Little Shit’ lessons from Barnes and Rogers?”

“And Sam! Don’t forget Captain Wilson, he is an invaluable part of this team. I’m surprised at your ignorance.”

“Pete—no, that’s not—“

“I’m ashamed for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Listen here you little shit—“

Anyway…

Steve and Bucky have a habit of telling these like, really awful jokes that have Peter in stitches for half an hour. It’s not fair and he doesn’t get why they’re so funny because they aren’t, and yet here he is, laughing anyway.

It’s probably some combination of Steve’s perfected innocent face that he wears when he has to do interviews and Bucky’s habit of not giving a single solitary fuck. But they’re able to make the worst jokes with completely serious expressions and it’s not fair.

“Hey, can you guys come help me with something?”

“Sure, Peter,” Steve says instantly, bounding over with his 95-year-old Golden Retriever energy as Bucky trails behind him like a cat that’s sitting in your lap because he wants to, not because he likes you or anything, “what’s up?”

“I have a history project on WWII due tomorrow and I haven’t started it yet.”

Bucky snorts, taking a swig of coffee and sitting down on the floor. Which, same. “You got your eulogy planned?”

“Drafted, sighed, notarized, but Aunt May said no so I gotta do this.”

“Well, if Aunt May says no then I guess that’s that.”

Tony, from far away in another part of the Tower, has a sickening feeling that May Parker has once again proven that she is the most powerful parent and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I, um,” Peter mumbles, fidgeting with his pen, “I want to be respectful of your boundaries, and if you don’t want to talk about anything then—“

Because it’s one thing for someone to make jokes about their trauma and another for someone else to go poking and prodding at it.

“Hey,” Steve interrupts softly, nudging him with his knee, “first off, thank you for saying that and we appreciate your respect, but we got you. You worry about enough, sweetheart, let us take care of ourselves.”

Peter gives him a look.

“When it comes to this,” Steve amends, having the decency to look a little sheepish, “we’ll take care of ourselves.”

Bucky scoffs. “Uh-huh.”

“We will, Buck.”

“My therapist will be real happy to hear that.” He looks up at Peter and winks. “Besides, what good is our trauma if we don’t pin it up and display it for good grades?”

Peter huffs, the joke undercut a little by the way Bucky knocks his foot against Peter’s and Steve’s arm stretches over the couch behind him.

Peter has to resist the urge to lean his head onto Steve’s shoulder, because then Steve’s hand will come up and ruffle his hair and Peter’s eyes will droop slowly closed as he loses himself in the warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace and then Steve will lean down to press a kiss to his temple and—

Right. Homework.

“What’s it on specifically,” Bucky asks, clearly spotting the temptation on Peter’s end, “home front? Overseas? Time period?”

“Uh, it’s an analysis of total war.”

“Like, how much of the country was devoted to the war effort?”

“Yeah, basically. It’s talking about how the Nazi War Machine made their war total and how that extends to a lot of other countries, but also about the reasons why the war was fought—“

They delve into a conversation about total war, Peter pointing out how Italy’s motivation for territory keeps it from being a total war on their part, Bucky speaking to how the different dynamics worked in various countries and the fallout, Steve bringing up how much of the home front was devoted to bringing attention to the war being fought overseas. Then, of course, as is inevitable, they devolve into storytelling.

Peter’s notebook—with notes! He did his job!—is set aside as he gives in to the need to let Steve cuddle him on the couch. Come on, the man is warm and big and gives good hugs, how is he supposed to not? Bucky sprawls out on the floor, leaning back on his hands as he smiles fondly.

“You know,” he remarks casually, “I fought a Nazi in my pajamas once.”

Peter blinks sleepily. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, though how he got in my pajamas, I have no idea.”

Peter snorts. Then he giggles. Then he’s collapsing into Steve’s side, positively sobbing with laughter.

It’s not funny.

It’s really not that funny.

But here he is, fucking dying, and he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to welcome the sweet embrace of oblivion.

“Okay, note to self,” Bucky murmurs when he’s calmed down a little, wiping away tears, “sleepy spider likes corny jokes.”

“Just don’t break our baby spider, Buck, Momma Spider would kill you in cold blood.”

“Listen, if Natasha Romanoff kills me, don’t prosecute. That’s on me.”

Peter can’t do corny jokes. He really can’t. He just sounds like he’s a recording so old it’s unintelligible and it’s bad. He has a reputation to maintain here!

However, there is one sense of humor that Peter is very eager to learn and adopt, and hey, it might actually be Iron Dad™ Approved!

It’s a rookie mistake, asking Bucky Barnes for a hand, but in his defense, Peter was left unsupervised and was distracted.

“Hey, Bucky, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

Something nudges his arm and he looks down. It’s Bucky’s metal arm, bumping up against his elbow.

It’s a cheap joke. It’s bad. It does not deserve Peter’s laughter.

He snorts anyway.

“That’s on me,” he says after a second, “you know what, that’s my fault.”

“What, is this not what you meant?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Peter scruffs a hand through his hair. He looks down at the prosthetic again. “Well, that’s disarming.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to snort. “You gotta hand it to me, though, it’s a good joke.”

Oh, it’s on.

“No, no, of course, I understand. You really can’t let an opportunity like that slip through your fingers.”

Steve chokes on his next sip of coffee. “Stop making the kid shoulder the burden of making puns with you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t palm this off on someone else, Steve, you’re as bad as he is.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Peter shrugs. “You just gotta knuckle-down and find the right one.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to reach for puns?” Bucky hefts his arm.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say a lot.”

“Jeez, Pete, good one.”

“What, are you not finding them humerus?”

Sam’s gone, Steve shortly after. Bucky just grins proudly at him.

Then there’s a massive thunk from behind them. Peter turns around to see Tony slamming his forehead into the counter.

“You are all going to kill me,” he mutters, glaring up at them, “all three of you.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Stark, Captain Barnes would never hurt you.”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“After all,” Peter grins, gesturing to Bucky who is doing a very good innocent face—he must’ve been taking notes from Steve— “look at him, he’s completely armless.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker—“

Okay, so maybe it’s not Iron Dad™ Approved.

Oh, well.

[psychosistr]

Steelbeak fankid- Valentino

Behold, my Steelbeak OC fankid! Art by @thefriendlyfour​ , full bio below the cut!

Physical Description: A young American-curl breed of cat with the breed’s signature curled-back ears and a medium-thick coat of black fur across his lanky body- minus a white heart-shaped spot on his torso which is usually hidden by his clothes- and is still a bit short for his age, with the tops of his ears stopping just below Steelbeak’s chest. Lost his tail when he was little, so he only has a small stump left of it until he gets adopted and his dad has Dr.Rose Gold make a prosthetic one for him that’s made of steel like his dad’s beak. Has amber colored eyes that, when paired with his breed’s curled back ears, tend to make him look like a devil when he grins or laughs maliciously.

Outfit: He’ll never admit it out loud, but he admires his dad’s sense of style and tries to mimic him while still making it his own. Wears a white button-up shirt with whitish-silver buttons and three-quarter style sleeves, a red western-style bow tie, a red vest with silver buttons that’s left mostly open with a small grey paw print pattern along the button holes and a larger paw print on the back, a black leather belt with a silver buckle, and black slacks with a white waistband that blends in with his shirt and pockets lined with silver studs.

Gender: Demiboy that usually goes by male pronouns because it’s easier for others to understand, but appreciates it when others ask him if/acknowledge when he prefers using other pronouns.

Sexual Orientation: Still figuring it out since he’s young, but so far has a preference for boys given a few of his past crushes.

Age: 14

Nicknames: Val, Stumpy, Devil Cat, King, Fluffy.

Val is his preferred nickname and what most people end up calling him.

The middle three are names used by his gang and their enemies.

Stumpy= Mean-spirited nickname regarding his missing tail.

Devil Cat= How people see him when he’s grinning and showing off his sharp teeth with his fiery eyes and curled ears that look like devil horns.

King= His title within his gang and what most of his underlings call him.

Fluffy= Used exclusively by Steelbeak and he knows Valentino hates it.

Real Name: Valentino was given his name after being adopted by Steelbeak and, as far as he’s concerned, that is his real name.

Had another name he was called while in foster care, but refuses to say what it was and would refuse to answer to it if anyone ever called him that.

Background:

Abandoned as an infant and found in a cardboard box in an alleyway in the middle of winter- he was very sick from it and his survival was questionable for several weeks following his rescue.

Spent his early years in and out of foster homes and orphanages all over St Canard. This gave him a pretty cynical view about people in general after a while since they always ended up giving him back for being a “problem child” or he’d run away because he didn’t like the way he was treated.

The “problem child” comments were from him doing things like taking stuff, hoarding food, not obeying orders, and questioning authority.

The times he’d run away ranged from him finding the people annoying to cases of actual neglect or abuse-the worst experience being when his tail was purposefully slammed in a door and he wasn’t taken to the doctor until it was beyond saving and had to be amputated off.

No one ever believed him about the incident since he was the “problem child”.

Despite his personal experiences, he knows there are good foster homes and orphanages out there- he just ended up dealing with the worst of the worst in St Canard.

By the time he was eleven, he’d had enough of being caught in the city’s toxic foster care system and ran away to start a life for himself on the streets.

Ended up forming a gang with other kids and teenagers he’d met from his time in foster care, quickly taking the lead-role since he was smart for his age and good at coordinating/planning raids, pickpocketing without getting caught, memorizing police patrol routes, dividing loot appropriately, and intimidating others into listening to him.

The gang was called “The Broken Pawns”, with the higher-ranking members all having chess-related titles- he was the King.

One day, his gang executed a raid on a store that turned out to be a secret SHUSH base and they unknowingly stole some boxes containing flash-drives/SD-cards full of confidential files. They didn’t know this, though, and were extremely confused about why they suddenly had a bunch of men in suits chasing them down.

While running away, he ended up bumping into Steelbeak. The chief officer was confused about why SHUSH would target a kid, but got roped into a fight with them to avoid getting caught himself. After fighting them off, he questioned the kid and figured he must have stumbled onto something REALLY valuable to SHUSH and wanted to get his hands on it.

The kid wasn’t a fool, though, and worked out a deal with Steelbeak: His gang had a protocol when chased by higher-up authorities after a raid that involved them splitting up and remaining separated with no contact for a while to avoid everyone getting caught, so it would take a few weeks for them to get all of the boxes that were taken from the SHUSH base together again. The kid wasn’t very good at fighting on his own, so Steelbeak would protect him while they waited for the rest of the boxes to arrive at his base and he’d stay at Steelbeak’s home so Steelbeak could make sure the kid didn’t try to run away or double-cross him. Once he got what he wanted from the boxes the gang stole, Steelbeak would let them keep any other valuables and he’d part ways with the kid once he got his share.

Steelbeak agreed to the terms of the deal, though he originally planned to just double-cross or ditch the kid after he got what he wanted and either take everything or let SHUSH take him. After a while, though, he found himself getting attached to the kid because he reminded him so much of himself at that age- scrappy, conniving, clever, distrusting of others, and one heck of a pickpocket.

After a few weeks of living together, teaching the kid things like cooking, saving him a few times, and just general bonding with him, Steelbeak decided he liked the kid and wanted to keep him around and the kid, oddly, felt the same- it was weird for him to have an adult that treated him with respect without trying to change him or discourage him from doing stuff like stealing or lying. They talked it over and Steelbeak ended up adopting him, naming the kid Valentino after his deceased father.

Current Status: Lives with Steelbeak and attends school during weekdays while still running his gang after school and on the weekends when he doesn’t have plans with his dad.

Personality:

Valentino generally has a cynical and antisocial attitude towards most people, usually finding them boring or annoying. However, he can grow to like certain people if they show him respect and don’t try to control or change him- like his gang or his dad. Those people are the ones he’ll generally be more relaxed around and make jokes with or try to protect when there’s danger.

As a leader for his gang, he’s cool under pressure and won’t freak out even when there’s a gun being held to his head while also being cruel and calculating enough to know how to make others listen to him- a baseball bat to the head or clawing out someone’s eye usually does the trick.

A bit of a kleptomaniac and opportunist, Val will take advantage of any possible opportunity to steal something from, frame, and/or con someone for whatever he can get out of them.

This part of his personality doesn’t apply to people he actually likes, but he WILL still try to swipe stuff from them in a joking way.

Example of this is him constantly trying to take Steelbeak’s wallet and the two of them laughing about it every time he gets caught or almost gets away with it.

Interesting Bonus Facts:

Val’s had terrible problems with his balance and equilibrium ever since he lost his tail as a kid. He can still walk and run okay, but if he needs to make sharp turns or move quickly in different directions he tends to fall over. He’s gotten good at getting up quickly afterwards, but it makes it hard to do stuff like fight and dodge attacks.

This is slowly remedied after getting his prosthetic tail from Dr.Rose Gold and receiving combat lessons from Steelbeak.

Because the only white spot on his body is usually covered by his clothes, most people think he’s just a black cat and that he’s bad luck, resulting in general distrust and contributing to people classifying him as a “problem child”.

Has a loving but cheeky relationship with his dad- they like being sarcastic with each other and saying playfully mean things, but they know it’s all in good fun and they love each other a lot.

Val knows his dad will always support him and have his back if anyone actually tries to insult or hurt him, but Steelbeak still respects Val’s independence and pride so he allows him to handle things his way first and only steps in when it’s an emergency or if his son asks him to help traumatize someone.

Doesn’t really have a favorite weapon when fighting since he’s still learning how to fight, but in a pinch he has a tendency to bring out his claws and go for the eyes.

Enjoys messing with adults/older teens that think they’re better than him by saying something very intelligent and/or scary for a kid that makes them do a double-take and ask him to repeat himself but he just looks at them “innocently” and acts like he didn’t say anything.

“If I slashed your radial artery, it would only take you 90 seconds to die in a pool of your own blood…hm? What? No, I didn’t say anything.”

I personally enjoy imagining that Steelbeak adopted Val a few years after the canon timeline for Darkwing Duck, so Valentino and Gosalyn are about the same age and go to the same private school (it’s one of the better ones in town and Steelbeak wanted his boy to have a good education since he never got one).

The first time Steelbeak comes to a parent-teacher conference, he gets jumped in the hallway by an irritated Darkwing Duck who thinks he’s there to cause trouble or corrupt the youths of the school. He has a hard time believing that Steelbeak’s just there to meet his son’s teachers, even after Val comes out into the hall to find out what’s taking him so long (he thought Valentino was being threatened or coerced until the kid nailed him in the stomach with his backpack full of textbooks). While Darkwing argues with Steelbeak, Valentino manages to swipe his wallet and reveals Darkwing’s secret identity (“Oh, you’re Gosalyn’s dad?”). The two adults agree to a (reluctant) truce when attending school functions to keep their kids from getting suspended or expelled.

This leads to many awkward/tense but funny interactions between Drake Mallard and Steelbeak’s civilian identity “Pauly” where they constantly try to one-up and insult each other while being forced to interact within the socially-regulated confines of school events and PTA meetings.

Example: Parents are asked to contribute to a school bake-sale. Drake makes cookies that are very popular at first, but then Steelbeak shows up with something fancier like lemon-meringue cupcakes with real toasted marshmallow meringue on top and he just smirks while Drake’s seething over being dethroned as the best baker in the PTA.

Valentino and Gosalyn aren’t exactly friends, but they do think it’s funny watching their dads constantly look like they’re one step away from killing each other while arguing over whether or not a new school regulation should be implemented or not.

They run scams together sometimes for quick cash and respect each other’s skills at conning suckers out of their money.

Also, they tend to sympathize with each other since they were both orphans who ended up being the “unwanted kid” until being found and adopted by their respective dads, so they’ll stick up for each other if someone tries teasing the other for being adopted or not looking like their dads.

[fantastic-rambles]

Sk8 Character Thoughts

Yeah, so y’all have to deal with me venting my latest obsession, lol. Sorry to everyone who followed me for other stuff, I will get back to it eventually. ^^;

I was gonna write out individual walls of text for everyone to be fair, but I decided that’s too much work and I’d go crazy before I finished (plus I’m feeling guilty for neglecting my fanfiction writing), so I’m just gonna bullet point some of the random things I think about various skaters (opinions and theories).

The order is the approximate order of which I like characters, though it’s not a strict ranking. I like most of the characters in the show to some extent.

Adam (Shindo Ainosuke)

I’ve already said a lot about him, you can check it out here and here. I’ll probably end up saying more about him before the show ends, too. xD

Yes, he is an absolutely awful person, but that’s what makes him amazing.

I will say that he needs a better costume designer. He looks like a clown. It looks like something that he designed when he was, like, five years old.

The mask is great though. <3

Cherry Blossom (Sakurayashiki Kaoru)

I love the super analytical types, but I also feel like Carla is a crutch for him. He’s a great skater, but if he didn’t have Carla, I don’t think he’d be able to compete at the level of the other top skaters. But all the more props to him for finding a way that he could compete at that level.

He totally had a thing for Adam before. But I think that even then, Adam was too fucked up to be able to have a romantic relationship, so nothing came of it. Because if Adam did actually learn what real love was like rather than confusing abuse for love, I don’t think he would have turned out the way he did.

It’s pretty clear that until he gets smacked by Adam, he’s still looking up to Adam and clinging to what they had before. And it bleeds into his non-skating life as well: when he did his calligraphy demonstration, I think that he hoped Adam would see it, which was why he picked that specific phrase and explained it--to let Adam know that it wasn’t too late to make amends (not that Adam would have given a fuck even if he did see it).

I love his character design as a teen, and I’m sad that he’s become more respectable-looking (though still hot af) as an adult. I’m a sucker for guys with long hair in anime/manga.

He is absolutely a weeb. He’s made an AI assistant who he calls Carla, which creeps out Joe (in a cute, lovable way, not in an Adam way), and he incorporates her into almost all aspects of his life. Like, he just happens to have an AI-augmented wheelchair handy, why?

He also dresses up like a ninja when he’s skating, goes around in a kimono in his daily life, etc. etc. Okay, maybe the kimono can be excused since he’s a calligrapher (though I’m pretty sure that’s not the norm regardless, except for maybe if the artist is at some sort of exhibition?), but people’s costumes seem to show off who they really are beneath the mask they put on for society. So Cherry secretly wants to be a ninja. xD

I’m not on any specific ship, but if I had to pick one to board, it would be Matchablossom.

Can we please have a spinoff that’s just about Adam, Cherry, and Joe when they’re teenagers?

Snow (Hasegawa Langa)

Frankly, Langa’s only up this high because I love his dynamic/rivalry with Adam. If Adam didn’t exist, he’d be below Joe, maybe below Tadashi.

Not that I don’t like Langa, but he’s just an oblivious skating nerd. He’s skilled and passionate, but I don’t really feel that he really stands out as a standalone character. He’s more of a foil for other characters (mostly Adam and Reki).

I guess what stands out the most to me is his ability to improvise when he’s falling behind, since his skill level is understandably lower than most of the other people he skates against. Like finding alternative pathways to the finish line versus Shadow and Miya, or using Joe’s strength to propel him forward. Or just, like, flying off the edge of a cliff to take a shortcut. That too. xD

His snow motif is pretty cool. (No pun intended.)

And I won’t deny that he’s cute. He’s actually the reason I started watching, because I saw some fanart of him and got curious. Came for the Langa, stayed for the Adam. <3

I feel bad for him for having a jealous jerk as basically his only friend though.

Joe (Nanjo Kojiro)

He’s such a teddy bear. <3

Joe’s the heart to Cherry’s brain, and I adore the way they balance each other out. I love Vitriolic Best Buds.

What surprised me, though, is that Joe seems to have a better understanding of Adam’s current character than Cherry does, since Cherry is so precise and analytical. Though the flashback clarified that some since it’s pretty obvious that Cherry is/was biased where Adam is concerned. Sure, Joe was also friends with Adam back then, but it seems that Cherry was the one most star-struck by Adam.

But Joe obviously knows and accepts that Adam’s changed, unlike Cherry, though he probably doesn’t know the reason why. He seemed to be expecting something to happen during the race, so it didn’t surprise him when it did, though he was sad/disappointed by it. It seemed like he was concerned and wanted to warn Cherry before his race (which is super cute), and when everyone else was flinching from seeing the assault on Cherry, Joe didn’t look away. I don’t think he knew exactly what Adam was going to do (I don’t think anyone did, lol), but he knew Adam was going to do something.

I don’t think he was serious when he said the reason Adam is avoiding their beefs is because he’s afraid he’ll lose, though. Yeah, he wants to race Adam, and he wants to win, but I think he’s more grounded when it comes to Adam, so he probably knows that Adam would beat him if it came down to it. Whereas Cherry legitimately thought he could win if Adam held back.

Also, his skateboard wheels are ridiculous. How do they even work?

Snake (Kikuchi Tadashi)

He got an ask post, yay, so not going to rehash it here.

I really hope that Adam realizes at some point that Tadashi is the only person who really knows and understands him, and comes to appreciate everything that Tadashi’s done for him.

Miya (Chinen Miya)

Such a brat, omg.

I get that he’s a kid, and kids are brats, and so it’s a fairly realistic depiction. I just hate kids. >.>

Pretty much the only time I’ll really like a child character is when they’re precocious as fuck and not child-like at all, which I get defeats the purpose, but that’s me.

Brattiness aside, he is skilled and appreciates Reki standing up to Adam on his behalf, so much so that he’s willing to spend his time training a “slime” just so Reki doesn’t get completely crushed by Adam. And he’s also willing to work with Langa to teach him the most difficult trick in skating (the Caspar Slide) for the same reason.

Ultimately, he’s a good kid, but he’s had some bad experiences that make it harder for him to trust people since he’s afraid they’ll leave him. He’s still willing to try, though, if people will give him a chance.

Also, the one ep when they go on vacation and Miya pretends Joe is his daddy (and Cherry is his mommy, rofl--hi Matchablossom!) to drive away the women Joe’s hitting on... hilarious.

Kyan Reki 

An even bigger brat.

Again, yeah, he’s a teenager and teens are “just like that,” but I hate those kinds of characters.

Just because his friend is a skating genius, he gets all pissy and stops being friends with him? Showing up to cheer Langa on and then completely running away doesn’t redeem him in my eyes. I get that he’s disappointed that he’s not capable of skating at the level of the top skaters and frustrated that Langa surpassed him so easily, but that’s no excuse to take it out on Langa (or anyone else).

And everyone complains about Adam being possessive, but they just gloss over the fact that Reki repeatedly tries to force Langa to promise to not skate against Adam, even roping in their manager, when he knows that Langa likes accepting challenges and has fun doing them. He just wants to keep Langa to himself, and he’s jealous as fuck that Langa is obsessed with skating against Adam.

Langa even explicitly tells him that he’s not racing Adam just because he’s upset about what Adam did to Reki, but because he wants to do it. Which is the exact same fucking reason Reki gives for not listening to Joe and Miya, and Langa supports his decision then. Why can’t Reki do the same?

Yes, he’s traumatized because his friend who introduced him to skating was seriously injured and had to quit skating, and he got hurt skating against Adam, but just like for Adam: YOUR TRAUMA/BACKSTORY DOES NOT JUSTIFY YOUR BEHAVIOR.

Plus, the whole “we’ll never disappear from your sight” that he told Miya? Psych!

Like, seriously. He knows the kid has abandonment issues because people leave him because he’s too good at what he does, and then he just goes ahead and poofs, putting both Miya and Langa through the same exact fucking thing.

Though I’m sure that the power of friendship will give him a miraculous recovery and he’ll build a new board for Langa so Langa can beat Adam before Adam gets hauled off to jail. It’ll probably be a cheesy make-up where Langa says something about how he can only use Reki’s boards, so it’s like they’re skating together when he races or whatever.

I do respect his ability to observe other skaters and make boards that are perfectly suited to them, though. And he knows that he’d be good in that support role. But he wants to be the hero, so he’s suffering from eighth grader syndrome and lashing out because reality doesn’t conform to his wishes.

Shadow (Higa Hiromi)

Just fucking die already, ‘kay?

I don’t even know what to say. He’s all caught up in his “antihero” complex or whatever (I don’t even remember if that’s the right term, and I don’t give a fuck), and he’s got a nasty personality. Like burning Reki’s board or threatening to have a guy tattoo “Dumpster Slut” above his girlfriend’s name.

You really expect me to believe that he’d treat his manager respectfully if they started dating when he does something like that? His polite florist persona is such a sham.

And he’s a shit skater. How the hell is he in the top 8? If they can throw in a random guy we’ve never seen before (Harry), then they could have just as well put in some other trash mob instead of Shadow, who only didn’t get knocked out in the quarterfinal round because he was racing a nobody.

Imo, all of his “cute” little tricks like throwing fireworks at his opponent or shining a laser into their eyes is worse than what Adam does. Once he does that, he relinquishes all control over the situation, so anything could happen, such as his opponent crashing into a wall or falling off a cliff, which could result in serious injuries or even death. On the other hand, Adam always remains in control when he’s trying to throw off his opponent by forcing them to dance with him and freaking them the fuck out by pushing their limits. Even when he’s holding Reki’s head about an inch above the ground, he won’t let Reki brain himself on a rock or something. And even when he smacks Cherry with his skateboard, his attack leaves Cherry conscious and so lightly injured (relative to what could have been) that he doesn’t even need to stay in the hospital. (I don’t think he actually needs a wheelchair, other than probably being a bit woozy from a concussion, maybe. And maybe not even that if Joe isn’t concerned enough to wake him up/keep him from being unconscious.) Yeah, Adam fucks with his opponents, but if they can get over it, they can get back on a board. There’s a good chance that won’t happen if they get in an accident caused by Shadow, other than for anime logic.

“What about Adam’s Love Hugs??” What about them? Yes, he’s not holding on to his opponents to control their falls, but the point of it is to make them flinch and fall backwards, against the line of motion. That naturally will decrease the severity of their physical injuries, unlike when Reki and Harry fall off the course at full speed versus Shadow.

The only reason he doesn’t have a higher body count than Adam (or even a literal body count) is plot convenience, since he’s not the villain.

[auralite776]

Hi, I’m a horrible human.

I wrote this thing, so here you go!

Word count: 1,959

What if the three house lords became children thanks to a spell?

———————————————————————

Suddenly, three screams came from an unknown room. Geez, how many rooms were in this monastery, anyway?

It seemed nobody else heard the sound, so I assumed it was up to me to find the source. I had to make sure everything was alright before heading back to the classroom where the Black Eagle students were headed. Anyway, I head to the door, and cracked it open just a little, making sure nothing would leap out. “Not a single sound...hopefully everything is alright…” I whisper to myself before opening the door the rest of the way.

Oh my ever loving Sothis.

To what might as well have been my horror, three small figures peered at me. This must be a nightmare...or some sick joke.

“No, you dummy! Of course it’s real! You got knocked in the head with a club earlier today, remember?” Sothis’ voice rang as she spoke.

“Sothis, now is not the time.”

I walk over to get a closer look at the three people, and again to my shock, they look exactly like Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude respectively. What seemed to be their school uniforms were wickedly big on them, and because of that, they fell over when they tried to stand.

“Do I even want to know what happened?” I say, raising an eyebrow. They said nothing. At that, I heaved a sigh. I don’t get paid enough to deal with this…

“Well...alright. Let’s get you three to Manuela to see if there’s a way to get you back to normal.”

When I finished speaking, Edelgard managed to get her uniform in such a position so she could stand up, and walked to my side. Claude, however, came up with his brilliant plan to get up on my shoulder. Dimitri seemed too scared to stand up for some reason. I guessed it was best to carry him.

—————————————————————

“Oh… Oh my…”

“What is it, Manuela? Is it something that can’t be cured?” I said, somewhat frantically.

“Not that it can’t be cured, per se, but…” Manuela went on with a distressed tone mixed with an uncertain frown.

“But what?”

“It’ll take time for that spell to wear off. The question is how long, depending on the potency of that specific spell.”

Dammit. Now I’ll have to watch over three toddlers somehow and still be expected to carry out my duties. Just what I needed.

“You dragged yourself into this.”

Gee thanks, Sothis. As if I wasn’t aware of that in the first place!

“Just… Please, figure out how long it’ll take to wear off.”

“I’d say in about a day, though I’ll need to look over a few things, so it might be longer. Could you watch over them until it does?”

“I can try, hopefully Lady Rhea can alter my schedule or something.” I said as I scoop the three house leaders into my arms. “What do I need to do to watch over them, exactly?”

Manuela giggled. “I’m sure you’ll figure that out soon enough, Professor. Good day.” she giggled again as she left.

Well, a day or two won’t be that bad, right?

—————————————————————

Shit.

One hour and my room is a complete disaster. Figures. I can’t keep my eyes off of those three for a second! If only I could get some advice…

Dimitri started wailing once there was a knock on the door. In my desperate attempt to calm him down, I then heard the door slam into part of the wall. Which, in turn, caused the crown prince of Faerghus to scream even louder. Claude just stared in curiosity while hanging from the ceiling, and even then I wonder how he did that, while Edelgard covered her ears with a pillow.

“I gotta say, kid. You’re doing a decent job keeping yourself together.” Father remarked as he made his presence known.

“That’s incorrect.” I sigh. “I feel wickedly exhausted already and I can barely tear my eyes off of them without one crying or another object broken.” Finally, Dimitri stopped his cries. A relief to my ears.

“How long until the stupid thing will be done and over with?”

“A day or so. Hopefully. Manuela said it had something to do with the potency of some spell. Do you...know of anything I can do to keep them from destroying everything or screaming?”

“You’d be better off with trying to make the gremlins go to sleep.” Father sighed. “It’s pretty much the only thing that keeps them quiet and from causing mass destruction.”

“Gee thanks, Father. I know that, but how do I make them tired?”

My father opened his mouth to say something just as soon as Claude bolted out of the room as fast as his little legs could go. Which was unbelievably fast. I didn’t say another word before I took off after him. I cannot trust him out of anyone to not stay out of trouble. Yet I was already too late…

There was the stench of rotten meat everywhere.

Lady Rhea—the poor woman—was completely drenched in water.

Thanks to Claude, Seteth has made me his sworn enemy, or so I guessed from his soul-revealing glare. Yet the Archbishop laughed.

I stopped, completely out of break. Damn that kid is fast… Better leave it to the guards to catch him.

“Got rather busy, I see? And with quite the troublemaker, too.”

“I…” I panted. “I’m sorry...about him…”

“It’s alright, Professor.” Lady Rhea said calmly as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get the guards to go after him. How about you keep your eye on the other two?”

I nod, my dry throat and exhaustion catching up to me. I slowly make my way back to my quarters. My father left, it seems. Dimitri curled himself up with one of my overcoats as Edelgard stayed wide awake, gazing out the window. She looked terribly sad…

Her thoughts seemed to have escaped her as I pat a spot on my bed, seeing if she wanted to join me. She did, oddly enough, making herself comfortable while making sure she was as close to me as she possibly could. Poor girl must’ve had a bad memory resurface, by the look of things. It was silent, for a while.

“P...Professor…?” Edelgard’s tiny voice squeaked.

“Yes, Edelgard?”

“Can you...call me El? My older sisters used to call me that...before...you know…”

That moment of tension caused her to sniffle. I gently traced a single scar on her back, which might’ve been one of her worst. “Hey, it’s okay. I can call you that, if you wish. But all things aside, if you ever need a shoulder to lean on, you know where to find me, alright?”

“Alright…”

More silence filled the room as Edelgard scooted herself upward, allowing her head to rest on my chest as she promptly fell asleep. A good thing, yet very curious. Soon enough, there was this warm, but indescribable feeling deep within my chest. When I put my hand on it, I, of course, felt nothing. There was nothing. No heartbeat…

I still held Edelgard close. What happened to her was one of the worst things I could possibly think of. All I could do now was be there for her to lean on, to be there to comfort her whenever needed. Despite being numb to some emotion, I felt...warm, I felt relaxed, and...it felt...right, somehow.

“Professor, are you...smiling?”

“What do you mean…?”

Edelgard seemed embarrassed when she asked that question. Avoided eye contact all together. “Er...it’s nothing…”

“If you say so.”

If only my heart actually beat...then perhaps Edelgard would be more relaxed. It might not be the case for her slight fidgeting, but she did cling. Was this...due to all of those experiments? Was she scared of letting anyone close to her go? I can’t change the past, no matter how hard I try…

“May I ask you something, Professor…?” Edelgard said quietly.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Do you… Do you think that those who suffer can be saved…?” Edelgard sounded hesitant, afraid. “That...when given a hand to hold, can escape…?”

“It depends. It depends on the person, what said person is struggling with coping, and the person who reached out to them. Not everyone can escape their traumatic childhoods, but if I had to offer my opinion, it would be that anyone could use that experience to change the world.”

The white-haired girl that made her home in my lap blinked with such wonder that I didn’t dare to try and understand. And yet, she frowned, her small arms wrapping around me and clutching my overcoat. “I want to change the world...for the better. You’ll help me...right?” she whispered as her body began to shake.

Edelgard relaxed as soon as I put a hand on the back of her head, gently threading my fingers through the strands of colorless hair. I always wondered what Edelgard’s natural hair color was, but then again she’d look beautiful no matter what.

She nudged me gently, her head burying itself in my chest. “I hate it. My entire body is scarred… I don’t doubt they won’t heal, but...they look horrific.”

Not to say that I didn’t agree. Some scars bore bad memories, others embarrassing accidents, but I had to shake my head. “El, that’s not entirely correct. They might look horrific to you, reminding you of those painful memories, yet in actuality, they only add more value in who you are. The scars made you the woman you are today, did they not? I believe that they enhance your beauty.”

Oh Goddess, I can’t believe I just said that.

Edelgard, however, grinned. “Thank you, Professor!”

The moment of peace was interrupted by Claude being gently shoved into the room, looking very disappointed. He yawned, crawling onto the bed next to Dimitri, who surprisingly was still asleep.

Hopefully the spell that made them like this would wear off. Soon.

“I guess it’s time for bed.” I yawn, looking back at Edelgard who leaned on my shoulder, fast asleep.

I lay down and pull the covers and sheets over my body, which made Claude and Dimitri move in order to stay warm, so the three huddled around me when they forced themselves under the sheet.

Soon enough, I shut my eyes, a curious warmth dwelling within my chest.

—————————————————————

Snap!

I jolted awake as soon as I felt something crushing me. Whatever it was, it was almost suffocating me. Until I realize…

The spell wore off. In my bedroom. On my bed. And it caused me to be in need of a new bed.

Something moved and immediately panicked. I opened a single eye, and Dimitri was awake, back to normal. One thing I did notice, his face was bright red.

Claude also moved, beginning to snicker, but stopped as soon as he realized what had happened. He was going to have an earful, that much was certain.

Edelgard stirred, but didn’t stand up like Claude and Dimitri did. Instead, she looked at who she was laying against and quickly rolled over, internally screaming.

They all demanded to know what happened yesterday. After I finished telling the story, they all had various responses.

Dimitri ran out of the room.

Claude laughed to hide his embarrassment.

And Edelgard…

Edelgard profusely apologized and hurried away to her quarters.

It was quite an interesting day. The three could barely even speak to me without growing flushed in the face. They did snap out of it later, when the fiasco was long such forgotten.

Oh, and the bed? I got a new one. Frankly, nobody dared to ask how it broke.

[sierratheory]

“Like i don't trust sierra bc of the time she came into Luke's life...” that entire ask but vice-versa too!!! people have said sierra dated dylan from flor and now her old roommate karsen too? as with luke, where was her time being single and figuring herself out before jumping into a new relationship? the twitter likes reminded me of how luke & sierra only see “jealousy” and “misogyny” as a h8ters only reason, which isn’t true 😔

Part 2 It's like they're still letting the other person know they're wrong but the difference is that it doesn't hit them. Why does it cause an overly emotional response and a giant need to prove they are wrong? it's a truth the person has been avoiding/ignoring. Luke or any person don't see the truth, they really don't even though deep down they know it is true (this is why emotional abuse is so dangerous and the victim "can't just leave")

Part 3 and that's why getting defensive and simply defending yourself are two different things. I'd like to point what that anon said about Luke's likes missing the point of what was said and this anon called him a 'dumb asshole' (lol) because he's missing the point. Well he may not realise it but he's missing the point "on purpose" his brain is making him miss the point in order to keep the fantasy that the points that were made aren't factual and are actually offensive (sexism)

Part 4 I swear I could write a book explaining every little behaviour he's adopting but what I really want to point out is that I understand everyone's frustration and regardless of what he's going through, Luke should be held responsible for his actions but we can and should emphasize because he's not fine. I'm saying this because he is following a very worrying pattern and even though Arzaylea was a much worse person than Sierra is,

Part 5, Luke is currently in a worse situation MENTALLY and I know this may cause some confusion and I can explain with more details why I'm saying this but it doesn't necessarily have to do with Sierra. I'm not saying she's not toxic. I do believe she's toxic but she's not nearly as toxic as Arzaylea. The difference is the timing. If Luke had dated Sierra first and Arzaylea later things would be much much worse.

Part 6 Luke was in a very vulnerable place, he was really hurt and he got a taste of what a mentally stable, caring, loving partner is like in Sierra. And I'm not saying these are traits that Sierra has or not. But when you get out of a toxic relationship, when you're at your worst a little love, or sense of love can feel like the best thing in a world. Basically it's an "issue" with the rewarding system in your brain. Very typical in people who go through this kind of situations

Part 7 that's why it is recommended to see a therapist or stay away from relationship because this rewarding system can fix itself and go back to normal or you might need some help. It all depends on how you deal with the situation. Some people get over traumatic experiences quickly and some need time and help. Anyway to keep it simple and short: Luke knew for sure (based on my little knowledge and his behaviour) that Arzaylea wasn't good to him but he was in love and he was making excuses to

Part 8 believe she loved him back (maybe she did love him back but had mental issues, drug addiction, I don't know, I can't judge) but he didn't have the time to heal. He's aware of his past relationship being toxic but I don't think he's aware of the effects it had on his mental health. He shows severe signs of being someone who still carries some luggage. Let me explain, I'm sure he's aware of how awful Arzaylea was and that he did him wrong and he deserves better.

Part 9 but for example, if arzaylea told him constantly that he didn't defend her enough, if she guilt trapped him because of it, if she threatened to leave him or blamed him for her mental issues/breakdowns he's most likely still carrying it with him and that's one of the reasons why he's desperately trying to make it right with this one relationship. It's something that's internalised. So yes maybe Sierra doesn't do much wrong compared to Arzaylea and actually maybe Sierra is like

Part 10 'dang I hate this thing someone said' but that's enough for Luke's brain to make a click, bring back the memories, the trauma and go into overdrive. This is an example but can be used to explain why Luke's trying so hard with Sierra compared to Arzaylea. Another thing that makes this relationship "worse" imo is that Luke's perception of reality wasn't accurate when he started his relationship with Sierra because of Arzaylea and now that little bit of love he feels like he receives is

Part 11 just wow and to him it is what real love feels like this is why your sense of personal worth should never depend on somebody else. And now he strongly believe that despite everything that goes wrong in his relationship, that little 1 thing that's going well is more than enough. he's never had that much so his fighting to keep it because it is sad but it's the most loved he's ever felt and he doesn't see why he could deserve more or how it could get better because to him, thats everything

Wheew, this was a trip to put together. You really did write me a book here, anon. But I completely understand what you’re trying to say. I come from a really abusive family, and even now I have issues where I’ll ask my bf if he’s mad at me and he’s like “you didn’t do anything, why would I be mad at you??!” Becuase I’ve been trained to think I’ve done something wrong if someone’s behaviour changes. And while I agree with most everything you said, I don’t think Sierra is unaware of Luke vulnerability due to the Larzaylea fuck show. That being said, I’m not sure if Sierra dated anyone between Alex and Luke. I don’t believe the roommate story, and none of the other mods do either. There’s no evidence behind it. I don’t know who the other guy is so I can’t speak to that. But she did have a lot more time between her and Alex’s breakup and her and Luke’s relationship beginning. Keep in kind she was still touring with Alex after they broke up, and that could have stunted any healing, but I truly can’t say. Time doesn’t always heal everything. And again I can’t speak to that break up, but I think it says a lot that she went on to drag his name during an interview after. As we’ve seen recently with Selena Gomez, she said she always kept quiet about her personal life out of respect. She wouldn’t even air out dirty laundry in her songs, and eventually she decided that her story was worth being told and she didn’t need to stay silent to protect those who hurt her. But she didn’t give an interview painting herself as an angel and throwing exes under the bus. And I think it says a lot that Sierra immediately went to the media, and even since that Alex has stayed mum on the subject.

I agree with the psychological damage points, and that Luke is likely overcompensating, if the relationship is real. Which in all honesty I’m leaning more towards as time goes on, but I’m still convinced even if they do like/love/whatever each other, modest! has some heavy handed access/control over it. And that could be perhaps to avoid a repeat of the Larzaylea mess, maybe they made Sierra sign a NDA, but I digress. Luke may also be convinced that because he didn’t defend Arzaylea, fans thought he didn’t care about her or was a bad boyfriend. It could have very easily been Arzaylea saying “hey you don’t defend me so you don’t love me, or fans see it as you don’t think I’m important enough to defend” etc. I don’t think Sierra is necessarily a bad person, while I’m entirely convinced Arzaylea was a shit-tier human being.

That being said, I do think she’s very aware that she is manipulating Luke, and taking advantage of the psychological damage Arzaylea did. I think that damage also makes him easier to manipulate or control and let me explain why.

TW - ALCOHOLISM, SUICIDE, VERBAL & PHYSICAL ABUSE

My dad was an alcoholic, and he committed suicide when I was very young. Because my mum left him, because he was becoming more abusive. Unfortunately instead of being the wake up call she wanted it to be, he shot himself and left her a note that said “I hope you got what you wanted”. Now, needless to say, this fucked my mum up really bad. She has never recovered. She has thrown all her emotions into a box, she is very clinical and doesn’t let her emotions control her. Which can be good sometimes but she’s very distant and cold. That being said, my mum married my step dad about 6 years after my bio dad passed away. She was not healed, let me tell you. She never sought counselling and is not on any sort of medication. My step dad was like the perfect man, before they got married, he cooked, he cleaned, and he was okay with the fact she had two young kids, one in elementary school and one just starting high school. But after they got married and he had control, oh everything changed. He isolated her from all of her friends and even her family. He was and still is verbally abusive and on occasion he can be physically abusive, but it’s rare. To her and all of his kids, including my sister and I. If he doesn’t get his way he throws a tantrum, calls everyone awful names and says awful things. He needs to control everything. While I love my step dad because he helped raise me, he is a controlling abusive person. And while he has a lot of psychological damage himself I’m not going to get into that, but know that he has a kind heart, and he does love my mother and he would die for her. But when he loses his temper he says horrible things. And he knows about the abuse my mum suffered at the hands of my bio dad, and how she has never healed. My bio dad told my mum she couldn’t cook, and if she ever left him he’d get the kids even though he was a raging alcoholic, couldn’t hold down a job AND she was doing all the child care on top of a full time job. Like she had the daycare ladies prepared to call 911 if we didn’t show up at daycare when she was out of town for work, but I’m off track here. The point I’m trying to get to is my step dad would abuse my mum, and use things my bio dad did or said to her, to hurt her more. An example of this is, if my mum tried to walk away during one of my step dads yelling fits, he would say “yeah, walk away just like you did with [my bio dad’s name]”. Because he knows she blames herself for leaving him, and she thinks his death was her fault. My step dad knows my mum will never leave him, because of what my bio dad did when she left. He could burn their house down around them and she wouldn’t leave.

With that story I would like to say, please don’t judge my mum or either of my dads. You don’t know the whole story and I don’t want to share all of it. I’m using it as an example because I know it well.

The point in trying to make here, is one it’s very VERY common for people to go from one abusive relationship to another. Because abusers can recognize the signs of a victim, and those who were abused, when treated with even a small amount of love, or kindness often see it as a very big deal. They tend to think they are worthless or don’t deserve it, as they’ve been told many times over. Two, believe it or not, being abused before can make people more susceptible to being abused again. This is because of the reasons mentioned above, they think they are worthless, or are wooed by very small acts, or both. And three, that the new partner can and often will use personal things about the abuse they suffered from someone else, to control or hurt their partner more, becuase they know it’s already a deep seated pain. And while I’m not saying Sierra is for sure 100% doing this, it is very easily a possibility and she could be doing some of it without knowing. Just because a year, or 5 or 10 have gone by doesn’t mean the person has healed, and sometimes new partners open old wounds. This has been a whole TEDtalk sorry y’all. Also disclaimer if anyone comes into the ask box saying rude things about my family it will be deleted and you will be blocked.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

We’ll Carry On - Chapter Three

We’ll Carry On Tag

General Content Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Substance Abuse, Abandonment, Minor Character Death, Transphobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Dissociation, Bullying, Homophobia

December 2nd, 2017

Roman stood at attention as the woman opened the door to his room. With her was a young boy, who couldn’t be more than six years old. “This will be your room,” she said dismissively. “The boy in here is Roman. I’m sure he’ll be willing to give you his bed.”

The boy looked around with a frown on his face after the woman left. Then he focused on Roman and scowled. “I don’t wanna share my room,” he said simply.

“I didn’t know that you would be coming, or else I might have seen if I could have made stuff for a second bed,” Roman said apologetically. “As it is, you can have mine until we figure out how to get an extra blanket in here...”

“I don’t wanna share my room,” the boy repeated. “Get out of my room.”

“I can’t, yet,” Roman said. “I need to finish my work, and I need somewhere to sleep...”

The boy shrieked and Roman stiffened. Someone was going to be in trouble for causing a ruckus, and as much as he didn’t want the boy to be in trouble, he didn’t want to be the recipient of the woman’s ire either.

“Roman?! What did you do now?!”

December 21st, 2018

Roman was shaken free from his thoughts by a knock at his new bedroom door. “Hey, Roman, whenever you’re up, Emile was hoping we could have a talk just the two of us,” Mister Remy’s voice said through the wood.

“All right,” Roman said. He walked to the door and opened it up. He was still in a pair of pajamas, but seeing as they weren’t going to meet with the school board until at least the second about getting Roman into classes, and they weren’t planning on going anywhere, Roman didn’t see much of a reason to change. “What do we need to talk about?”

“House rules,” Remy said, taking a step back. “Come to the kitchen, I’ll make us both some lunch.”

Roman nodded and followed Mister Remy out. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t see the talk about rules coming. After all, the places he had been before all had rules. He just hoped that these rules were actually reasonable.

Once they were seated in the kitchen, Mister Remy sighed. “Now, I don’t know how many rules there were where you came from, but I figure we can start with basic rules, like a curfew, when you should work on your homework, that sort of thing, and work our way inwards as needed. Sound good?”

Roman wasn’t quite sure he understood what “working inwards” was, but he figured Mister Remy would probably do some explaining as they talked more, so he simply nodded.

“All right. First things first: curfews,” Mister Remy said.

Roman, again, only nodded. He figured it would be something early, but hopefully not too early. He could only get so much done when he had to be in his room, asleep, by nine.

“Emile and I talked, and we figured that eleven o’clock should be the final cut-off. That’s when, unless you’re up sick with something, we want the light in your room off and you attempting to sleep. You can get ready for bed as soon as it’s eight thirty, but we don’t want you going to bed too early. Ideally, getting ready for bed around ten and being in bed by eleven should work, if you’re a night owl,” Mister Remy explained.

Roman blinked. That was not what he had expected. At all. “You’d let me stay up that late?”

“Well, Emile seemed to think it was fine,” Mister Remy said. “I probably would have made you go to bed at ten or ten-thirty rather than eleven, but he seems confident that giving you that flexibility means you won’t try and stay up later, because if you need to stay up for whatever reason, you can.”

Roman had to keep himself from gaping. “That...that works. Definitely. Yeah,” he agreed.

“Okay. Now, about homework,” Remy said. “When you go to school, homework will be your responsibility. We won’t insist you do it as soon as you get home, and you won’t have to do that before we give you food, or before you can relax, or watch TV. However, you have to have it done before the morning it’s due. And we won’t let you stay up later because you have homework. If any homework in any subject takes more than an hour for you, then come to us and we can work out a plan together for how to tackle it. If you have any difficulties with homework, you can come to us, whether it’s an issue with budgeting time or you don’t understand a concept. Emile and I will help to the best of our abilities.”

Roman got a pang of sadness in his chest when he remembered how his mom would help him with homework before...before he was alone. But he pushed it down and nodded to show Remy he was listening. “That will help a lot, thank you,” he said gratefully.

Mister Remy shrugged off his thanks. "It's really not a big deal, Roman. Both Emile and I know what it’s like to struggle with different aspects of school. We don't want you to be left struggling for whatever reason simply because you're afraid of asking for help. There are much more serious reasons for struggling, and you shouldn't be held back just because you need a little support."

Roman grinned slightly, letting just a little bit of his happiness at this shine through. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Uh, yeah. Food and drink stuff, mostly," Mister Remy said. Roman's stomach sank, until Mister Remy spoke again. "You're welcome to eat whatever you want in the house, so long as you can prepare it safely. So if you know how to cook ramen, help yourself. If you're unfamiliar with skinning a potato, wait for someone to teach you. All we ask is that if we're running low on a certain food, you let us know, so we don't reach for something that isn't there."

Roman was unable to hide his shock at that. "Seriously?" he asked. "You don't mind if I need a snack in the afternoon?"

"You're twelve, Roman. You're still growing. If you need more food than whatever you get for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we won't be offended if you ask for a snack. That's better than going hungry," Mister Remy said, leaning forward. "Didn't your guardians before tell you to not worry about food?"

Roman turned crimson and looked away. "Uh, not...not really," he managed. “Money was kind of tight...and we had to ration out what we would spend it on, so I couldn’t always just eat when I was hungry.”

Mister Remy looked concerned. Roman bit his tongue, trying to avoid the urge to spill his guts. What had happened to him since his mom. The foster homes he had been moved through. How the one he had run away from always seemed to have money for beer, but never for a second bed in any given room. How they took in small children, but relied on the older kids to watch the toddlers. How he couldn’t go to school because he was too busy making sure the house was pristine.

But he couldn’t say any of that. If Mister Emile and Mister Remy found out about that, they’d tell the foster system, and he might be sent back, or worse, those kids might be scattered to other homes. Other homes that might be abusive, not just neglectful. He couldn’t let that happen to any of them, not even the boy who hated Roman’s guts for sharing a room with him, or the girl who always pulled on Roman’s hair whenever he picked her up and moved her away from danger. No. That had to be a secret he carried to his grave.

“Well, rest assured, Roman, we have the money for food, okay?” Mister Remy said. “If you need to eat, you need to eat. We won’t stop you.”

Roman nodded and tried not to show how emotional he was getting at that small gesture. He knew that most people would consider that the right thing to do, and most kids wouldn’t be fazed by being able to eat whatever they wanted. But he was shaken to his core over this. This was something he never thought he’d be able to have again, and two strangers were just...giving him a home that he felt welcome in. It was a stroke of luck he honestly wasn’t expecting to find. Finding his dad in the first place seemed like a pipe dream. And yet. He was here.

“You okay, Roman?” Mister Remy asked.

Roman cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” he managed to say. “All of this is a little overwhelming.”

“Maybe we should save the rest of the rules for later, then,” Mister Remy said softly. “After all, any other rules we put in place would need your input.”

“You would...want my input?” Roman asked.

“Yeah,” Mister Remy said. “These rules affect you, after all. Those ones were just general guidelines. Anything else that we need to go over will be specifically for you and your needs.”

Roman tried to absorb that, but he was so used to being...used that he couldn’t figure out how someone wouldn’t want something from him in return.

“Yeah, I think we need a break from the rules talk,” Mister Remy said with a laugh. “Do you like football?”

“Uh...yeah, sometimes,” Roman said. “I’m not the best at playing, but I’m always willing to watch a game or two.”

“Cool. Emile doesn’t always enjoy watching a game with me, but I have a couple saved on the DVR, if you want to watch it for a bit?” Mister Remy offered.

“Sure,” Roman said easily, moving to the living room with Mister Remy.

They got settled on the couch and Mister Remy worked with the remote until the game was on the screen. Roman burrowed into the couch and let his mind wander. Running away hadn’t been his first choice, but it was looking like the right one. He was getting adopted. By people who respected his needs and were more considerate than anyone else he had met for a long time.

What really blew him away, though, was the fact that the people taking him in had known him all of two days. Obviously, they trusted him for some reason, but he couldn’t figure out why. He was very fortunate, whatever that reason was, but the reason itself was just something that he couldn’t figure out.

Mister Remy looked over at him. “You good, Roman?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Roman said. “I’m just thinking, I guess.”

“What are you thinking about?” Mister Remy asked.

“Well...you and Mister Emile...you guys just took me in, for no other reason than I showed up with nothing to my name and asked for help,” Roman said with a shrug. “I don’t know, that just sort of...shocks me, I guess?”

“Yeah, I suppose that could shock anyone who isn’t familiar with myself and Emile,” Mister Remy said with a chuckle. “But Emile has always been a kind soul at heart. He would never hurt anyone intentionally if he could help it. And I...well, I admire his spirit. I like the way he wants to help others, and I work to be as accepting and helpful as he is. He would have taken you in whether or not you’re his biological son, because you needed help. You needed to get out of a bad situation, and if he could help you with that, he wouldn’t understand why anyone in his position would refuse to help you.”

“Because they don’t know me?” Roman said. “I could just be someone trying to rob you blind, or someone here to try and trick you for whatever reason. Get free food, a place to stay, whatever.”

“But in any of those cases, you would need whatever you stole, or whatever you ate, or wherever you stayed,” Mister Remy countered. “Even if you stole something for the money, you would need that money for something. Most kids don’t rob people just because they’re bored. You understand what I'm getting at?”

“I guess,” Roman said skeptically. “But that still doesn’t explain why the both of you would take me in.”

Mister Remy smiled and shrugged. “Well, I guess it just might be one of life’s greatest mysteries,” he said, wiggling his fingers and making ghost noises.

Roman laughed. “You’re funny,” he said. “I may not understand why you and Mister Emile are so willing to help me, but I’m very happy that both of you are, regardless of your intentions behind it.”

“Thank you, I think,” Mister Remy said with a laugh. “Now, I assume you know how football works?”

“The basics,” Roman agreed. “I would sometimes see it when I was cleaning around the house and my foster parents would watch it.”

“You were in foster care?” Mister Remy asked.

Roman nodded. “For a bit, after my mom left,” he said carefully. “But they didn’t exactly...help me.”

Mister Remy frowned and Roman prayed that he wouldn't pry further. “All right,” Mister Remy dismissed. “If you want, we can talk about this later.”

Roman knew that couldn’t ever happen, much as he wanted it to.

[atimefordragons]

100 Intelligence, 0 Wisdom || EHS

☾♔; June 17, 2020 ☾♔; 12:26am ☾♔; sotd: Tuhje Dekha To (DDLJ)   ☾♔; cotd: Dick Grayson   ☾♔; Elite Highschool ☾♔; Side/NPC Profiles

𝐓𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: lol, a summary of all 5 Sheremetev kids

----------->UPDATE: description abandoned. The group was shutdown and I've been kicked from the discord, so there's no point in finishing this set. I'll just make a new one when I inevitably recycle the characters.

Most of their profiles were done anyway, but whatever, I’m not putting any more effort into something I’m not involved in anymore.

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【𝕀ℕ𝕊ℙ𝕆 ℂℝ𝔼𝔻】@ maybones

As always, lolz. Soz for always using you as inspo, but you are the unrivaled Queen of Talent and Set making.

Was specifically inspired by this set: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2523719 And as always, failed in mimicking it.

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I have made a new version of Tuhje Dekha To: Tuhje Dekha Toh ye jana sanam Main tuhje nufrat karti, kuti kamini

Loose Translation: When I saw you beloved, I knew That I despise you, you fucking bitch

(kuti kamini doesn’t literally mean fucking bitch, but that’s the emotional weight, or inflection or whatever behind it tbh - it doesn’t mean bitch though, like, from a literal translation, it kinda means bitch, bitch, since kuti and kamini both mean bitch)

Lol, ya, it doesn’t really flow with the music, but whatever. I’m fucking pissed and TDT was stuck in my head, so the lyrics went from love to rage.

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𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

The Sheremetev’s are a unique bunch of siblings, in that not a single one is biologically related to another. All, but the youngest were adopted by Ivan Borisovich Sheremetev, his youngest, and only biological, child eventually passing into his custody. They’re a family of 7, Ivan, their father, Feodor Brezhnev, their butler/emotional grandfather, Rodya, the big brother, Adya, Emil, and Shion, the NOT triplets, and Erasyl, the brat- I mean baby. Because they’re not his biological children, they’re often labelled as charity cases, though they can pretty much brush it off at this point. Since Ivan does not make a blood distinction between his kids, Erasyl is often thought to have been adopted too. Are they just the batfam repackaged as Russian bourgeoisie? lol, yeah.

The House of Sheremetev are former Russian nobility, and in the age of the Empire, were amongst the wealthiest and most influential families in Imperial Russia. They held many high commanding ranks in the Russian military, governorships and were given title of "Count" (Граф graf), which in Russian society was the third highest, the first obviously being the rank of Tsar, followed by Prince (Князь knyaz) - a Russian prince was not necessarily royalty, but more equivalent to a western Duke. Notable Sheremetev's include Yelena Sheremeteva, who was the third and final wife of Tsarevich Ivan Ivanovich (1554–1581), the son of Ivan IV (better known to history as Ivan the Terrible), and Fedor Sheremetev, cousin of Tsar Mikhail I and head of government in 1613–18 and 1642–46.

During the revolution, the line that led to the current Sheremetev's stayed in Russia. A handful were executed, but one became a party man and ardent supporter of the regime. By the time of the union’s collapse, numerous members of the Sheremetev family had served in the government, military, and KGB throughout the existence of the Union. Boris Sheremetev, father of Ivan, was a member of the Council of Ministers when it was dissolved in 1991, and Anastasia Sheremeteva, Ivan’s mother, was a high ranking member of the KGB. During the upheavel of the economic shift from communist to capitalist, and mass privatization of the Russian and post-Soviet state economies, both Sheremetev parents were killed in highly suspicious circumstances. Their murders remain unsolved, though were blamed on Bratva’s. The Sheremetev’s had already taken part in Gorbachev’s attempt to create a mixed socialist economy, and during the post-Soviet transition period, they bought numerous government contracts and assets, primarily in the arms, oil, and energy industries, quickly establishing themselves as Oligarchs in the new world order. In the modern day, all Sheremetev assets are controlled under the banner of Sheremetev Enterprises (Шереме́тевы Компании Sheremetev  Kompanii), often shortened to SKomp. Due to the industries, and their closely maintained friendship with the Russian government, the Sheremetev family is amongst one of the wealthiest in Russia and the world at large.

Ivan Sheremetev, current head of the family and their business, is the only child of Boris and Anastasia. Their respective jobs already came with a level of paranoia and strict safety measures in the family, but their deaths made Ivan far more cautious and obsessive. Ivan was a teenager when his parents died (somewhere between 15-18) and he’s basically become a doomsday prepper, but instead of a Zombie invasion or whatever, he’s more concerned that some goon will invade his house. Bitch has the most insane and overkill security system in the world, plus he does all that martial arts and marvel superhero training. And then he went and had kids, and somehow managed to become even more hypervigilant, makes them all take at least one “bad bitch, kick your ass” type class (judo, krav maga, etc). He rarely drinks in public, fucking nerd even drank gingerale and pretended it was alcohol so he could keep his wits about him. He used to masquerade as a party boy to keep people disarmed around him, but after adopting children, especially once he had the non-triplets, he just acts as the truth; tired father. 100% uses them as an excuse to avoid parties and the media (lol, he’s just a brooding loner type who has maybe 12 friends, and 5 of those are his kids). Ivan is bad at expressing emotions, but genuinely loves his kids, and is simultaneously the most laid back and most helicopter parent ever. The kids are out late? It’s okay, I trust them, and they’ll call if something bad happens. One of them fell off the monkeybars on the school playground? I AM SUING THEM FOR CHILD ENDANGERMENT!

𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐕 ➤AGE: 18 ➤BIRTHPLACE: Yakutsk, Russia ➤RESIDENCE: St. Petersburg, Russia ➤BIRTHDAY: March 21 ➤FACE CLAIM: Simon Nessman

➤PERSONALITY OVERVIEW: Overall, he’s a pretty decent guy. Big, big brother energy, also has a lot of dad energy, and is a mother hen. The type of guy that says “you kids these days”, even though he’s barely a year older. Rather sarcastic, but it’s mostly playful, loves a pun. Is pretty and petty, kind of a hoe, we got a male Anto here. Somersaults and does splits and other flippy shit completely randomly while walking, just ‘cause he can. He’s extra like that. Loves to tease his younger siblings, and will purposefully embarrass them, he will yell across campus to do so, “HEY ERASYL, REMEMBER HOW YOU GOT SCARED BY THE CAT LAST WEEK AND SNUCK INTO MY ROOM!” Has also yelled relationship advice and dating tips. Also more explicit tips. Despite his embarrassing tendencies, hoe nature, and general playfulness, apart from Feodor (the butler), Rodya is the certified adult™️ of the family, when any of the other Sheremetev kids have a problem, they all go directly to him, skipping over Ivan, who also goes to Rodya when he’s got a problem (but has great difficulty owning up to the problem too). Because of their emotionally stunted father, Rodya has become the emotional support of the family, though he certainly wasn’t always good at it. By the time Ivan brought Emil into the family, Rodya (around 13 at the time) quickly grew up to help the traumatized Emil adjust to the new family (lol, they’re all traumatized), and changed his previously dismissive and rude behaviour towards Adya. Because he took over what should’ve fallen to the parent, Rodya has a lot of buried issues himself, particularly a temper, which flares up whenever any of his family or friends are being attacked in some way. Insulting one of my brat’s? Lol, let me teach you what gravel tastes like. Rodya seems like the best behaved of them all, he’s outwardly the most polite and charming Sheremetev, but he’s the most dangerous and vicious of them all.

➤LIKES: Cereal (is possibly addicted to it??? Can eat it for any meal and as a snack, it is genuinely a concern), Tequila (this wasn’t intentional, but I’ve been going through dick grayson memes for inspiration, and I vote Rodya as Anto’s best friend, the Princess can suck it), he a Gucci boy, winter, ice skating, eurovision, Frozen and disney movies in general, will belt those songs out at any time of the day or night, but Frozen has a special place in his heart ➤DISLIKES: Brooding people (got enough of that in his family), clowns, lazy fashion (black suit, white shirt again? Fucking try my dude), teen language constantly evolving (what happened to thristing? wtf is simping?), overpowering scents (like axe, that shit gross yo, have some class) ➤HOBBIES: Gymnastics and acrobatics (has no interest in joining a circus, but it helps him feel close to his parents), boxing (needs to beat up anyone that might threaten his family), karate (black belt), coding/hacking, frolicking (lol, is that a hobby? Hanging out with the friends and the “kids” - his sibs)  

➤RELATIONSHIP WITH THE OTHERS: Rodion gets along best with everyone else in the family, and is pretty much the lightning rod guiding them all back together. He’s grandpa’s (Feodor) sassy lil baby boy forever, and the only other person to sometimes have a brain cell, he’s dad’s (Ivan) pride and joy, not to mention emotional rock. Rodya feels so that Ivan doesn’t have to. He keeps Adya in check, is Emil’s idol, Shion’s best bro, and Erasyl’s actual dad (not really, but he parents Erasyl more than Ivan, so). When asked who’s their favourite member of the family, every Sheremetev without hesitation will answer Rodion (for himself, he’ll refuse to answer, he’s nice like that).  

➤SHORT BIO: The first, and the favourite; Rodion was born as Rodion Petyrovich Kirilov, his parents, Petyr and Masha, were members of a contemporary circus (a la cirque du soleil, but smallers, and in Russia), as a rarity in the contemporary circus, the Kirilov’s were a circus family, but that’s more of an arguable point, since Petyr and Masha were individually trained, and they were only beginning to pass on their skills, etc to Rodion when the thing™️ happened. When he was 5, Rodion’s parents were killed in what seemed to be an act gone wrong (though in truth a jealous member of the circus messed with the rigging, causing them to plummet to their deaths). Ivan Sheremetev just happened to have been attending that very show, and also just happened to witness the murderer in the act, and relayed his information to the police. As an orphan himself, though he was much older than Rodya when his parents died, Ivan empathized with the young child, and adopted him on pretty much impulse. Because he is so much dumber than he seems (he eats burgers with a knife and fork), he was able to win over young Rodya due to being “funny”, and they established their own little family, Rodya quickly picking up Feodor’s sassy remarks, and becoming a little darling by Ivan’s side at fancy Russian events.

When Adrian was brought into the family, Rodya was far from the best big brother he is now. Adya came into the family with Rodya was 11 (Adya himself was 10), so for 6 years, he was the only child in Ivan and Feodor’s care, and was certainly spoiled by the two. Adya’s arrival sparked First Child Syndrome in Rodya, who absolutely detested having to share the limelight now with another kid. He was incredibly rude to Adya, and repeatedly referred to him as a replacement, which resulted in Adya lashing out and running away a few times as well. He’s really not proud of this, not to mention, he’s definitely where Adya learned that replacement insult from, and subsequently used on Emil. He eventually got over it mostly on his own, though got a nice little pep talk from Feodor about how all three (Rodya, Adya, and Ivan) are just lost children who need to find a family, and Rodya begrudgingly began extending an olive branch to Adya and trying to get along with him, even being the one to bring him back to the manor a couple of times. He was much better prepared when Emil arrived 2 years later and smoothly transitioned into the “Best Big Brother” mantle he has now, and continued being the best bro when Shion and Erasyl arrived, though the younger ones started having issues with not being the new baby anymore (lmao, welcome to the club you dorks).  The day Rodion left for EHS was hilariously emotional, they were all crying ‘cause they didn’t want him to go, which in turn made him cry too. The other kids didn’t talk to Ivan for a week ‘cause he sent big brother away (overdramatic much, they’d be joining him in a year, two for Erasyl, anyway).

𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐕 ➤AGE: 17   ➤BIRTHPLACE: Moscow, Russia ➤RESIDENCE: St. Petersburg, Russia ➤BIRTHDAY: August 16 ➤FACE CLAIM: Sean O’Pry

➤PERSONALITY OVERVIEW: (1) angry boi. He’s so petty and broken, and like, just needs love? He had a less than stellar relationship with his birth parents, and does not easily trust people. Adrian struggles the most with being called a “charity case”, it’s not really the insult that bothers him, but the implication that he isn’t loved by his dad, because he can’t fully trust that Ivan genuinely loves him as his son (plus Ivan isn’t exactly a share-my-feelings type, so that’s no help). Adya is quick to throw a punch, and has no patience, at all. If something is bothering him, he reacts immediately, usually with anger. On the flip side, he’s also really sweet and a nerd. Like that trope of “Bad boy who picks up cats in the rain”, that’s him, to a T! He loves literature and can recite Shakespeare from memory alone (lol, and has the nerve to call Emil a nerd), and is generally rather prickly, but if you can shave down those spikes, you’ve got a friend for life in him. ➤LIKES: Poetry, plays, literature, shakespeare, history, mythology, tolstoy, dostoyevsky, the beach, whiskey ➤DISLIKES: clowns, drugs (just say no), cops (acab), fire (he’s a tad pyrophobic), enclosed spaces (also claustrophobic), being told what to do (not a fan of being controlled) ➤HOBBIES: Reading, studying (he’s such a nerd), weight-lifting (does that count as a hobby?), mixed martial arts, napping, homework (lol, lil mr. bad boy here is top of the class), drama club (backstage stuff and directing, also script)     ➤RELATIONSHIP WITH THE OTHERS: It's complicated. When he first arrived to the Manor, he had a very teasing, bratty relationship with Rodya (he teased his new big brother, 'cause lol, dad loves me more now, you weren't enough), which Rodya did not like, but underwent the same crisis when Ivan brought Emil home and was much worse about. He has trust issues and has run away from home numerous times, but most of the time he went back on his own, or was quickly found by Ivan (and later Rodya). He deeply loves his family, but struggles with admitting it, and is fearful that they do not love him. He gets along the least with Emil, who was adopted 2 years after him, and frequently, to this day, calls him a replacement (something he picked up from Rodya). As both are aggressive types, he technically gets along the best with Erasyl, often teaming up to pull off shenanigans and teenage rebellion, but they constantly argue, and each views the other as the “stupid” one in their duo (lol, you’re both dumb). They’re also both super scared of Shion (she beat him up for talking shit). His relationship with Ivan is the most complicated, because he wants Ivan’s love and approval, but also refuses to admit that, though he does have it (even though Ivan struggles with admitting it too - they’re all so dumb).

➤SHORT BIO: The second one and resident “bad boy” (LOL, he’s so not), Adrian was born to Andrei and Olga Petrov, a regular working class family. Olga left them when Adya was 2, and Andrei subsequently remarried to a woman named Alina. Alina was a drug addict, as well as a drug dealer (she specialized in Heroin), which is how she and Andrei met. Both were addicts and frequently abused Adrian while high, when in withdrawal, and when completely sober. He was routinely locked out of their apartment and left to sleep outside in the freezing cold. Because of his upbringing, Adrian has had to learn to fend for himself, often resorting to petty crime just to survive. It’s how he met Ivan, as he was trying to steal the wheels off of Ivan’s fancy ass car to sell, but was discovered, and instead of trying to run, idiot decided I’m just gonna attack this guy. Ivan instead, decided to take Adrian in, easily getting custody of him from his birth parents and eventually formalizing the adoption. For this, Adrian is eternally grateful, and hasn’t seen his parents since the night Ivan caught him trying to jack his wheels (or however you say it).

The young Adrian was prone to tantrums, and often ran away from home, but was calmed down and brought back each time, usually by Ivan, a few times by Rodya, and sometimes he would come back on his own. The introduction of Emil in the family was a shocker for him, and made him feel as if he wasn’t enough, ‘cause who needs 3 kids? Not to mention, Emil, unlike himself and Rodya, came from upper society, so he felt a lot of inadequacy, which he dealt with by lashing out. He still dislikes Emil the most, even with Erasyl’s shouts about being the “blood son”. On the plus side, at least he mostly gets along with Rodya now. Technically speaking, Adrian is the youngest of the not-triplets (himself, Emil, and Shion), but having been adopted second acts as the oldest, and gets away with it due to his aggressive and independent nature.

𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐕 ➤AGE: 17   ➤BIRTHPLACE: Greiz, Germany ➤RESIDENCE: St. Petersburg, Russia ➤BIRTHDAY: July 19 ➤FACE CLAIM: Louis Hofmann  

➤PERSONALITY OVERVIEW: A very good boy, he is just the fucking sweetest, he could give you diabetes. But he is a Sheremetev sibling, and thus also is PETTY AF! He fucking logs every wrong another sibling has ever committed against him in a digital diary, and has the receipts when he complains to one of the “adults” (aka Rodion mostly, sometimes Feodor or Ivan). Emil is the “smart” one (lol, he’s got an IQ of 187, but will also blindly accept anything Rodya says as fact), and so he uses his brains to psychological torture Adya and Erasyl when they get on his nerves. He’s utterly savage when it comes to a comeback or witty comment, and can be impatient when it comes to letting someone else be in charge of technology (dies inside every time someone types www into the address bar). He makes a conscious effort to model himself after Rodya (apart from Rodya’s hoe-ing), to emulate that nice, caring, dependable thing that Rodya has, and was a super adorable mini-me when they were younger. Has insomnia, from a mix of nightmares from repressed trauma, and staying up online at all hours of the day and night like a typical zillenial. Runs on caffeine and candy.  

➤LIKES: Technology, he a computer geek, rococo, baroque, champagne, pastels, sunlight, summer, acrobatics, the circus, von gogh, monet   ➤DISLIKES: slow wifi connections, laggy computers (like excuse you windows, but I need those 4 browsers with 50+ tabs each, you know me, figure it out), blood, erasyl   ➤HOBBIES: computer engineering (is that a hobby, or just like a life goal? The latter probs), coding, tattling on adrian and erasyl, planning elaborate ways to get back at adrian and erasyl

➤RELATIONSHIP WITH THE OTHERS: In general, he gets along with his siblings, with two glaring exceptions; Adrian and Erasyl, both of whom view him as an unwelcome replacement, well, for Erasyl, he’s a placeholder (which, I mean, calm down, we all know who dad’s favourite is - Rodya). Emil gets along the best with Rodya, whose parents he saw perform live once before their deaths, upon his arrival to the Sheremetev manor, witnessed Rodya pulling off a similar stunt on the banister (which gave poor Ivan a heart attack) and immediately became obsessed. Because they both had a strong brotherly bond with Rodya from pretty much the get go, Emil and Erasyl argue over Rodya the most. Aside from Rodya, Emil and Shion are rather close, though she doesn’t open up much, the two often team up against Adya and Erasyl.

➤SHORT BIO: Born to Heinrich XXVIII, Prince Reuss of Greiz and Elsa von Hohenberg, the last scions of the Elder Line of the House of Reuss, and born as Heinrich XXIX, Emil is the heir to the Principality of Reuss-Greiz, which was technically inherited by his cousin, Prince Heinrich of the Junior Reuss line (they’ll all named Heinrich in the honour of the Emperor who enobled them - lame). His parents were killed when he was 12; his death was subsequently faked alongside theirs and he was taken in by Ivan, a friend of his parents, for his protection. Emil witnessed his parents' murders and was covered in their blood when he was found by the guards, the incident clearly left him traumatized, and for the most part has shut out the memory, though he still has nightmares about it, which contributes to his insomnia.

When he was first brought to the Sheremetev manor, Emil was very withdrawn and solitary, often staying by himself in his room (with the doors and windows locked) or sticking by Ivan’s side. He was slowly brought out of his shell by Rodya, though this immediately sparked jealousy and insecurity in Adya, beginning their “rivalry”.  

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐀 ➤AGE: 17   ➤BIRTHPLACE: Susaki, Japan ➤RESIDENCE: St. Petersburg, Russia ➤BIRTHDAY: January 26 ➤FACE CLAIM: Dilraba Dilmurat

➤PERSONALITY OVERVIEW: Seems like a brooding, silent, lowkey scary type, but really she’s just introverted. Doesn’t interact if she doesn’t know someone and/or it’s unnecessary. When she talks, she’s savage and witty (lol, despite them not being blood related, that’s a trait all the Sheremetev’s have). She’s honestly super dorky, loves shit like Naruto and One Piece and Batman cartoons (has declared she IS batman). Shion loves messing with people and will always make up shit to throw people off, she loves the whole concept of being the mysterious loner type, and there’s equal chance she’s saying a true fact about herself, or it’s another joke to fuck with you.   ➤LIKES: Messing with her brothers, dark colours, ➤DISLIKES:   ➤HOBBIES:   ➤RELATIONSHIP WITH THE OTHERS: Quiet. Because she’s generally rather reserved, it’s not quite evident upfront how close or distant she is to her family, since she’s physically generally off doing her own thing, however, like her other brothers, she is close to Rodya, and tends to hang out with him when she has nothing else to do (she be the designated driver for the hoes - she could drive since she was like 12, yes, she had to heels and creative methods to reach the pedals, but she could drive).

➤SHORT BIO: Born as Orihara Shion, Shion is the daughter of Orihara Chinatsu, the former third generation leader of Sesshō-Kai (殺生会), a Yakuza based in Kōchi, her father is unknown, but is or was presumably a member of her family’s Yakuza. From the moment she was born, Shion was separated from her mother and raised in secrecy for her protection, as well as education, as per Chinatsu’s instructions, she was being raised to one day take over the Yakuza.

Technically speaking, she is the oldest of the “triplets”, but is treated as the youngest of the three, having been adopted last, and she’s pretty okay with it. Got to be doted on as the baby before the brat (Erasyl) arrived.

adopted when she was 13 (dick 14, and the other two 13 as well)

𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐘𝐋 𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐕 ➤AGE: 15   ➤BIRTHPLACE:  Almaty, Kazakhstan ➤RESIDENCE: St. Petersburg, Russia   ➤BIRTHDAY: August 9 ➤FACE CLAIM: Bright Vachirawit

➤PERSONALITY OVERVIEW: ➤LIKES: ➤DISLIKES:   ➤HOBBIES:   ➤RELATIONSHIP WITH THE OTHERS: Terrible. He’s very insecure about his father’s affections and always gets into fights with the others, particularly Emil and Adya. He’s scared of Shion, because the one time he managed to anger her, she threw him off a balcony (he’s fine, just traumatized - technically, Rodya once beat him too, but that was to teach him a lesson, Shion was straight up trying to kill him). Erasyl gets along the best with Rodya and is very possessive of him, especially since Rodya tends to pamper him and treat him like a child. Very quickly gets jealous when Rodya spends time with the others, especially Emil (You can have father, but Rodya is mine <- has actually said that, out loud).

➤SHORT BIO: The baby, Erasyl is the only biological child of Ivan

the only biological child (15), a brat, was a real bitch to them all, but started respecting dick when he beat him, and is now super attached to him

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀

➤MOODBOARD: https://urstyle.fashion/styles/2594157 ➤SCHOOL WARDROBE/AESTHETICS: https://urstyle.fashion/collections/115802 ➤PLAYLIST:

[the-coven-of-equilibrium]

A Place For My Head

Respects Be with the beautiful Souls Chester Bennington & Chris Cornell, two legends who shone brighter with love than the stars, May you be Eternal… My Love, Prayers and Strength go out to all grieving at this time.

This is for LP, Anyone who has had their lives touched by Chester and LP, The Kids that connected from Day 1 and their little brothers and sisters, this is for anyone living with mental illnesses. This is for anyone with the heart and patience to read this part of my story. Now, to clarify, I’m not here to give you a play by play on Chester Bennington’s life, career or mental health etc, you can research that on google. This post is about the perspective of a loving fan, the influence on my life and how I know he touched the lives of so many others of our generations. For when you look past the statements from us i.e. “He helped me through so many dark times” and “they made my teen years bearable” this is what we mean and this is my connection to one of the most inspirational artists of my and younger generations time, someone who has done a whole lot of healing us. Let this not be undone in his death, for then darkness will truly prevail.

Warning: Before you continue reading, if you are feeling vulnerable and easily triggered, for a start, make sure you reach out, I know it’s hard but sometimes you have to, because people are unaware, secondly let them know having company can sometimes be enough as I find people feel nervous as they are unsure how to help- personally, simply being there can help sometimes, even if it doesn’t seem it. If that doesn’t work for centring yourself and you know what does then do it. If reading this triggers you, take care of your mental health and stop reading, do the best you can and notify someone then find something proactive, physical and connecting to do; walk to a park and sit on a swing for a bit, check out some nature etc, do your hobbies, push through okay? <3 If this makes you feel you want to share your story Please, do not hesitate to write me!

I’ve lived with suicidal demons for as long as I can recall, for me, it comes in waves or sometimes a reaction to stress and other triggers I will not go into. I’ve learned over many years this is irrational but this does not ever change involuntary thoughts of my death, this is often too hard for me to express because well, who wants to burden someone with that kind of heavy info right? Plus people seem to panic, people mean well but the reality for me is that I have to know who I can share this with and I’ve learned “my reach out network”- that’s what I call it. I have steps I take when I see my signs and I do my best to push through and it’s not the elixir of life but it can help a whole lot from a serious dark hole to a being in a weird mood for a little bit.

My Name is Denise, I am 28, I am a Mother of 2, A singer in a band and a mind that never switches off.

I live in Sydney, Australia J

It was a brisk Friday morning, the usual morning school rush to get the kids in, I skim over my socials, Mama tagged me in a post, I opened it and saw Chester’s face, though I did not read the headline. I jet out the door with the munchkins to rush home for my online orientation at 9am for this new Bachelors Degree I just started, since I’ve finally gotten my headspace back together again, after a traumatic couple of years and getting my life back on track with my path. Racing back home with excitement about my course and thinking through my busy day and thereafter, building up my plans in my head. I arrive home, quickly flick on the computer monitor, put away my belongings, got myself comfortable at my computer space open my orientation and as it loads check my notifications on FB  to read the words “Linkin Park Lead Singer Chester Bennington dies at 41, Suspected Suicide”-… A moment of hesitation before this registered, immediately I think “this is a hoax”, but my heart knew it wasn’t, It was on what would have been the late beautiful Chris Cornell’s birthday I thought, this was no accident… not knowing how close they had been. I felt like a piece of me died at that moment. A disorientating wave of emotions rolled over my whole body as tears began flooding. Just as hard, all the memories I connect to linkin park began to flow in from day 1 when I was an 11yr old self to this day, “the soul that resonated through myself and a generation alike, inspiring and humble with an energy I have yet to see matched, the words that held my spirit through my darkest places, the guy who set the bar in my mind on performance delivery of my 14 year old self…” My skin was crawling, I couldn’t stop crying and I still didn’t want to believe it, to be quiet blunt I wanted to die myself. My mind had begun spiralling and I could feel the dark swirling in me, beginning to take over my mind loosing focus of my day of what was in front of me, my hands began to shake and tingle and I didn’t know what to do with them-I thought to myself: “I’ve never felt this way, ever, when someone famous has died.” I knew what my pain was asking me to do but I was there enough to come back, I looked at my keyboard, sobbing, I click open a tab and decided to just write:- which transpired to be this blog. My first post.

As I type Incoherent spurts and whirls of anguish, I tried to avoid the media like the plague, though I checked some of my favourite artists out to see who was feeling the loss. The Plea from the Rock Community taking such losses is so evident its not being taken lightly by artists who also live with these demons, They want it to be clear to the fans that this isn’t the answer and to the fact we basically need to wake up to the real depression around us and all the complacency going on all around us. I’m right there with them, It is the very truth we need to recognise; this shouldn’t have happened, but it did and we need to do something about it, as a community to make this world more aware and equipped. And why was he alone???Almost intrusive, the pain starts to sink in further…” How could you just leave like that?” I’m mad!  I mean, as a mother… dude, He left 6 children, friends, family and a huge vulnerable fan basis behind…but he doesn’t deserve to be crucified in death for being weak in a moment of misjudgement…  I’m angry… though not enough that I will allow it to over shadow the suffering of this beautiful man or the legacy that remains in Linkin Park. It broke my heart to know he was alone, for all the times his words, voice and energy stopped me from self-harming through my teens and all my life, all those times I was at the brink with no self-esteem… If you find you are there, DO NOT BE ALONE.

; Because of LP and bands alike,we found a safe place for our battered, confused and angry souls. For me, it was enough to stop me from acting on the intrusive thoughts, and still is.

Stumbling across a review of the new album, I realised, I hadn’t made the time yet to check out the new Album, the wave came crashing down inside me like a tsunami after the quake; I felt so guilty, I claimed loyalty and I heard the single, yet I was so caught up in other music this year, I had overlooked my boys album release, how could I? I felt I had betrayed Chester in a way. That I failed how I would usually pledged my loyalty. Further, to go open The Track List for “One More Light” … Tears and sobs were all I could muster, One Glance at the track list I felt like I was reading a hopeless indirect goodbye from my hero, my weirdo friend who held my soul when no one was listening, who is now gone. The 2017 release of “One More light”…. With endless scolding reviews that Linkin Park no longer embodied the teen angst it did when I was a teenager, Crucified for apparently-“simple” lyrics and ”soft singing” and “a lack of connection”- are you kidding me?Maybe as i am someone who has lived with a mental illness, it was easy for me (and i am sure many others) to depict the tone of the album is a point, a point of extreme turmoil, the point of healing and change and pressure…( A familiar feeling I have endeavored through many a time and currently trailing out of the most recent spiral). The album is full of silent screams of his state of mind, he was so sad, letting it out. Really, the music and artist features were progressive, Chester was always honest about wanting to explore into more pop music as well, he told us this like 10 years ago… so they tried something new, in the truest Linkin Park form. Honing in on the generations wave without a stylistic intention at that, how can one deny they would be able to resonate with our youth today, the level of depression going on in youth today breaks my heart, most of us deal with remnants of complex generational trauma we didn’t ask for but try our damn best to deal with…  Heavy Really is a good example, They teamed up with an awesome artist who was all up and coming with the youth, they were with the times, always, so why be so critical because they weren’t afraid to grow. It’s a fucking sad and beautiful album at the same time… my resonation with this album is insane as always, I wasn’t afraid to see them change… do you know what it feels like when you’ve been crying so much and you need a fresh break that touches your soul…

So let’s time hop for a few paragraphs shall we? As an impressionable preteen, I looked to my cousin (who is 3 years older than me) who showed me some of what heavily influenced my music taste and style to this day.  Having been brought up around an immensely eclectic variety of music and free spirited people, it was without a doubt I was curious to hear everything everyone listened to or had to offer. I mean, it was and still is my thing, since I could possibly remember or imagine, nothing on this earth is parallel to my passion for music, people and writing poetry, nor has it been easy for me to share with my peers with surmountable anxieties around expectations from myself of myself, vicious cycle. 

By gosh did I fall head over heels for Linkin Park from the first listen, I would have been about 11yrs old, at the time I already liked some pretty obscure music, which we can also leave for another time. One step closer;  the first track I remember hearing of Linkin Park, my eyes beaming with this hype of energy building in my core and as it moves into “SHUT UP WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!!!” and the music just taking me over the bounce back between Mike and Chester and I remember smiling and this feeling of release.. straight away and every time since. Every track touched my heart.

My first memories when learning of Chesters suicide were of when I was 14 and my cousin bought me LPs “Live in texas” DVD & CD for Christmas, I played that DVD on repeat all summer and I was absolutely blown away by the whole band but as a singer I looked up to Chester, the way he commanded the stage with his multifaceted energy. The ability to be so raw, yet still so nurturing to their audience. I vividly remember “A Place For My Head” impacted me and stays with me the most, it became the level of expectation from artists from that point, Safe to say he blew me away and I hadn’t even seen them live!

Then the opportunity came in October of 2007 Minutes to Midnight Tour where I saw them live for the first time, and Chester was sick, he couldn’t scream and couldn’t give it his all, I remember feeling disheartened and felt bad for Chester, he didn’t have the best health. I was grateful they still played and I still enjoyed the show since it was so incredible and the band was so awesome and the visuals that show - wow. I never turn my back on artists on 1 sore performance though, so there was no hesitation when the next show came in December 11th 2010   A Thousand Suns World Tour.- I have to say I know any deep Linkin Park Fans will be mourning as deeply as I am, I know because I’ve felt it, discussed it and hear the respect and love we hold as fans for LP amongst my peers over the years! At School, random public awkward social situations and someone was repping an LP shirt and you felt safe to strike up a conversation, at parties they were the bonding point for so many of my scary situations,clubs, conerts,pubs,parks, Town Hall :P Just everything was that much more because of LP. In 2013 for Soundwave and Sidewaves They soared, Opening with faint a resonating crowd, singing to all the tracks, the heavy Linkin Park fans came out of the woodworks for tracks from Hybrid Theory and Meteora screaming and roaring along the lyrics while I’m being squished and people surging, with circle pits whirling next to me, as I’m centre stage 4 rows back, in my regular fashion, I found my kindred, losing our shit to every line, as well as our voices. Hanging onto every moment and following Chester back and forth across as hr owns the stage while the ever beautiful Mike Shinoda cradles Chester and the crowd with the rhymes that resonate through time and us in that moment, the energy, respect and love so true moving through the entire venue.  My Mama has seen some amazing shows in her time (My Music Guru) and she was blown away that the crowd response, still so strong and energetic for Linkin Park she said “Your crowd was so beautiful, You can see how much they love LP they sang every line of every song old and new and so respectful”  I gleamed a cheshire grin of pride at my mama..  

I could go through the entire track list and tell you how they correlate to my life and why, how each line, lick, scratch and scream resonates through my physical and spiritual being, to some they may have been just “an emo band” or “nu metal” but to me- Today My Hero Died and took a part of me with him more than I can still make sense of but I will instead explain something else. When I was 11 the worst time of my life began, things irreplaceable, things beyond my comprehension, to many things beyond control. It was at this time where I was lucky and found Linkin Park, as the years moved on, still passionately connected to LP and trapped in a private hell I shared with non but in outbursts of rage where my family would correlate Meteora to my mind frame, which is close but at the time I didn’t fully comprehend what I was hearing and why I felt so connected to Chester, I would later discover many obvious reasons why. I remember when Meteora Dropped, Oh man, My family remember when Meteora Dropped… everyone in my house ended up becoming a Linkin Park Fan after that… To me… What Linkin Park did for me sometimes as a teen who was dealing with a surmountable level of complex issues in her life (like most teens)… Linkin Park made things easier to face the world most days… a place for my head- exactly that- the anguish I felt was inadvertently at this peak of emotional drowning and I can easily tell you a better part of my youth had been Listening to LP alone or peers alike. Fast forward to 2017 and I am 28, only now have I woken up and begun to heal, only now just a mere 3 weeks ago did I begin my therapy to unravel the pain… To lose my hero… To affiliate on a confusing level and digress at the actions he chose.  Today… I sat in a taxi Blaring Linkin Park on my phone Balling my Eyes out and it was in waves over and over, At first i could bring myself to listen to a song, I opened the gate with “My December”… One More light…The song I would come to see significantly, every song broke my heart all over again. 

Learning more about Chester I discovered he was a fellow March Equinox baby, like me! J What some of the things he had faced were and how strong he was, how honest and kind he was. In all this, Chester was amazing, he was forgiving, loving and a beautiful person. He explored, experienced and conquered more than we can imagine, he sang with and is respected by timeless artists and became one himself. There is a void in my world knowing he is not on the planet anymore but I take solace in the beauty he left behind, even in death, a sad beauty of an unbearable loss amidst a riptide.

Chester,  So much more than just a singer, the inspirer, the honest humble soul, someone who has saved and touched millions of lives that span across entire generations. Reflecting with friends about Chester’s passing, people seem to feel stumped at the irony of the amount of people he helped in the world with sharing his pain with us.. the thing is as artists, this is our soul on show… a pain can be shared but not cured by this mere act, but to express the depth in which this turmoil revels. The Shadow is always there…

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_v1SLIt01Q0)

Imagine; You meet your hero, your idol growing up, you guys totally hit it off at a gig one time and become super close, so close you are gifted being godparent to their child. You abruptly loose this friend while on tour for an album which exploits depths of your mental illness which was misunderstood because it did not embody the angry teenager anymore but the healing of confronting your mind and the rage beneath the surface of the ocean… as an outsider if this is what I see, I couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Chester, He Lost His New Harmony in loosing Chris…

One More Light… The Last Linkin Park Album with My Hero I will discover, and its more real then i could have ever imagined, I can’t stop playing every song from the album, and i never will.

Such a fucking amazing band LINKIN PARK, such gifted beautiful unforgettable individuals, such resonating souls of one band who changed and touched the lives of millions all over the planet, who are timeless, I’m sorry for your loss, I’m so sorry and I love you all, every element of LINKINPARK is a masterpiece of contrast and raw beauty. 

To my dear fellow LP and Chester Fans, Please do not despair, we know rationally what is right, so don’t give in and lose hope, we need to suck it up and keep in touch. Don’t hide, let it out and make this world a more beautiful place for each other. Put those tracks on that touch your heart and never forget what we lost in Chester but never forget what he was a part of building, still remains. The side projects he was a part of, the opportunities he explored for growth like being the front man for Stone Temple Piolets! The amount of bands and artists who were inspired to start writing because of Linkin Park, The Love and Respect that he gained through being a true working musician and person who overcame so much in living world and taught us how to heal when nobody was listening. Fuck the Media and their negative breeding avoid buying into peoples crap and remember what you value, remember how YOU connect, who you love and stay close to them, remember the thigs that shift our focus to a productive healthy place of love.

The answer is not out, it is in, be unafraid to be real, keep it raw. Peace.

Chester, you will forever inspire my art as you already did, I will forever be motivated to heal. I love you for everything, thank you

-D'Amor Feroz

[realestate63141]

I'm Married To A Divorce Attorney. This Is What Our Marriage Is Like

Divorce attorneys are experts on marriage. After all, every day in their offices, they see the petty squabbles and simmering issues that can easily bring down a long-term relationship.

What have they learned from their day jobs? We recently asked family law attorneys from across the country to share how their own marriages have been affected by their jobs and clients. To get a balanced account, we asked their spouses to weigh in, too! See what they had to say below:

Karen Covy, a divorce attorney and coach in Chicago, Illinois:

“I’ve been with my husband for 10 years and married for eight. I don’t take anything for granted. I’ve seen a lot of relationships that went south just because someone stopped paying attention to them. I see a lot of small mistakes that build into big problems. I’ve learned from the pain I witness every day. I consciously work on avoiding those mistakes myself. I try not to let my professional stress bleed into my personal life and I try not to cross-examine my husband. But I’m human!” 

Her spouse, Vit Homolka:

“It really doesn’t make much difference what profession my wife is in. She’s a strong woman and I like that. It’s true that sometimes when we’re talking, she hits me with her ‘lawyer’s logic.’ Our discussions get broken down into points and sub-points with supporting evidence. When she flips into lawyer-mode, it can feel like you’re in a court room. But, I know who she is inside. Her profession is not the primary thing in our marriage.” 

Margaret Klaw, a divorce attorney in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:

“I’ve been married for 34 years and for 30 of them, I’ve been a divorce lawyer. You might think I’d be deeply cynical about the institution of marriage. But you would be totally wrong. I, along with many of my colleagues in the family law bar, are deep appreciators of marriage. I think that is because we, more than most people, truly understand the value of family. We know it’s what gives meaning to people’s lives because we experience firsthand the depth of the pain when it doesn’t work out. And I know that has made me a better spouse and parent. I’m tolerant of small problems and differences because I am so acutely aware of the big picture, of how unimportant those differences may be when compared to the potential cataclysm of divorce. I have to admit, though, that I’ve heard this from my husband more than once during an argument: ‘Stop cross examining me!’ But really, if that’s all he has to complain about, he has no idea how good he has it.”

Her spouse, Alan Metcalfe:

“I may have just a few more complaints but I share my attorney wife’s perspective on marriage. I also love hearing about how badly couples behave (no names, of course!) in court, marvel at how generous her clients can occasionally be with their estranged spouses in the name of their children, and often think how lucky I am to be in a solid marriage. I also know that I would be screwed if I tried to divorce her because she is the only person I would want to represent me in court.” 

Alison Patton, a divorce attorney and mediator in La Jolla, California:

“You would think that with all I’ve seen and learned through the years, I’d be great at marriage and not make the same mistakes divorcing clients have made. Not always the case. For years, John’s common line to me when we were having a marital spat was, ‘Can’t you just use your mediator skills for a goddamned minute and try to understand my perspective?!? And stop interrupting me!’ What I’ve learned from being in this profession is we all make the same mistakes in marriage. Some of us are just lucky enough to have the marriage survive until we figure it out. I think we made it through the rocky stretches because John is as strong a person as I am. He’s an attorney too and he held his ground. Even when we were furious with one another, we never lost mutual respect. I’d be lost without him.”

Her spouse, John Thickstun:

“I’d been divorced for about a year when Alison and I met and started dating. I proposed a few months later. My friends asked me, why are you getting married again? And to a family law attorney!? So I explained, ‘This will guarantee that it will last. It has to!’ All kidding aside, divorce attorneys are participants in the end of a chapter -– the death of a relationship. But if they’re like Alison, they are also witness to the beginning of a new chapter -– a rebirth of sorts. Guiding people through the divorce process creates wisdom if you’re open and paying attention. Alison pays attention. She brings the wisdom she’s learned to our relationship. I love her more today than the day we were married over 18 years ago.” 

Christian Denmon, a divorce attorney in Tampa, Florida:

“Our situation is a little different: I’m a full-time divorce attorney. My wife does divorce work, but it is a minority of her practice. We apply what we learn from our practices to our relationship and it helps steer us on the right track. And I think, as we transition from what divorce lawyers call a short-term marriage to a medium-length marriage (we have been married seven years), we are still on strong footing. Much of it is thanks to her!” 

His spouse, Nicole Denmon:

“My husband listens more to other women’s problems than mine. The emergency phone calls at night and on the weekends used to bother me. I used to ask lots of questions as to why a female client needed to talk to him so badly at 7:30 p.m. on a Saturday night. But then I listened to his conversations. Some were true emergencies and others were him just be an attentive lawyer who knew when that his client needed to talk and needed advice right then. Although it did not constitute an emergency to him or me, the person on the other line truly believed that it was. I have come to learn that a good divorce attorney must be attentive and on call if a client needs to speak with them. I know that my husband does not always want to return a phone call, but he puts himself in the position of his client that is experiencing one of the most traumatic experiences one can go through: divorce.”

Nancy R. Van Tine, a divorce attorney in Boston, Massachusetts:

“Stu talked me into going to law school while he was studying for the bar exam. Four years later we started our own firm. I didn’t choose family law. I backed into it. I was the only female lawyer in my location when we hung out our shingle, and the divorce clients came as a result. And they kept coming, and I loved doing it. Stu and I worked as a team. He did a lot of my legal research and all my appellate writing in the early years. We’d discuss strategy, law and the clients all the time. I think we were more careful of each other in our marriage as a result. Marriage and divorce law have been a fun partnership.”

Her spouse, Stuart Van Tine:

“Yep, I’ve been married to a divorce lawyer for 52 years. She wasn’t a lawyer for the first 14. I’d been an attorney for five years when she was sworn in and we opened our own shop. We later joined a larger firm together; I retired, she’s still there. For us, practicing law together was fun. My end was stodgy bank and real estate work. Her practice seemed to bring new and amazing bits of insanity every day. What I remember most is her ability to keep her composure where very few people could, like laughing along with our staff at the death threat left on our answering machine or the court battle over custody of a stuffed parrot. Those were happy days.”

Katherine Eisold Miller, a divorce attorney in New Rochelle, New York: 

“Divorce lawyers hear some pretty crazy stories and we know what destroys relationships. Knowing what destroys them gives us a window into how to nurture and preserve our partnerships. On the other hand, we also know how to protect ourselves and our assets and that could be pretty scary if things weren’t going so well.”

Her spouse, Richard Heller:

“I’ve been married to a divorce attorney for 18 years. From the beginning I needed clear boundaries between work and relationship ― and no prenup. Prenups look to me like a self-fulfilling prophecy, like you’re planning the way out when you have not even begun while to my attorney bride, it just made sense to get clear on financial boundaries. Keeping communications from becoming ‘litigious’ is an ongoing practice for both of us. I often joke that ‘I’m married to a divorce lawyer, I don’t mess with her,’ but I actually find my spouse appreciates what an amazing marriage we have because she has seen so many marriages that were less than that. She works long hours and I miss her terribly, but our time together is always sweet.”

Daniel E. Clement, a divorce attorney in New York City:

“As a divorce attorney, my problem is not making my clients’ issues mine. While I am sympathetic, I have to remain detached to keep my objectivity and maintain my sanity. I certainly don’t want to bring their problems home with me. That said, I can use my client’s issues as life lessons. I can identify the mistakes they made in their relationships, in raising their children, in their decision making, and consciously modify my behavior so as not to follow them. I do not want to be someone’s divorce client.” 

His spouse, Michelle Schwartz Clement:

“Most of the time, Dan seems immune to the stresses of the day. Yes, there are days he brings it home, but what successful professional doesn’t do so?”

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from DIYS http://ift.tt/2lgev4D

[repwinpril9y0a1]

I'm Married To A Divorce Attorney. This Is What Our Marriage Is Like

Divorce attorneys are experts on marriage. After all, every day in their offices, they see the petty squabbles and simmering issues that can easily bring down a long-term relationship.

What have they learned from their day jobs? We recently asked family law attorneys from across the country to share how their own marriages have been affected by their jobs and clients. To get a balanced account, we asked their spouses to weigh in, too! See what they had to say below:

Karen Covy, a divorce attorney and coach in Chicago, Illinois:

“I’ve been with my husband for 10 years and married for eight. I don’t take anything for granted. I’ve seen a lot of relationships that went south just because someone stopped paying attention to them. I see a lot of small mistakes that build into big problems. I’ve learned from the pain I witness every day. I consciously work on avoiding those mistakes myself. I try not to let my professional stress bleed into my personal life and I try not to cross-examine my husband. But I’m human!” 

Her spouse, Vit Homolka:

“It really doesn’t make much difference what profession my wife is in. She’s a strong woman and I like that. It’s true that sometimes when we’re talking, she hits me with her ‘lawyer’s logic.’ Our discussions get broken down into points and sub-points with supporting evidence. When she flips into lawyer-mode, it can feel like you’re in a court room. But, I know who she is inside. Her profession is not the primary thing in our marriage.” 

Margaret Klaw, a divorce attorney in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:

“I’ve been married for 34 years and for 30 of them, I’ve been a divorce lawyer. You might think I’d be deeply cynical about the institution of marriage. But you would be totally wrong. I, along with many of my colleagues in the family law bar, are deep appreciators of marriage. I think that is because we, more than most people, truly understand the value of family. We know it’s what gives meaning to people’s lives because we experience firsthand the depth of the pain when it doesn’t work out. And I know that has made me a better spouse and parent. I’m tolerant of small problems and differences because I am so acutely aware of the big picture, of how unimportant those differences may be when compared to the potential cataclysm of divorce. I have to admit, though, that I’ve heard this from my husband more than once during an argument: ‘Stop cross examining me!’ But really, if that’s all he has to complain about, he has no idea how good he has it.”

Her spouse, Alan Metcalfe:

“I may have just a few more complaints but I share my attorney wife’s perspective on marriage. I also love hearing about how badly couples behave (no names, of course!) in court, marvel at how generous her clients can occasionally be with their estranged spouses in the name of their children, and often think how lucky I am to be in a solid marriage. I also know that I would be screwed if I tried to divorce her because she is the only person I would want to represent me in court.” 

Alison Patton, a divorce attorney and mediator in La Jolla, California:

“You would think that with all I’ve seen and learned through the years, I’d be great at marriage and not make the same mistakes divorcing clients have made. Not always the case. For years, John’s common line to me when we were having a marital spat was, ‘Can’t you just use your mediator skills for a goddamned minute and try to understand my perspective?!? And stop interrupting me!’ What I’ve learned from being in this profession is we all make the same mistakes in marriage. Some of us are just lucky enough to have the marriage survive until we figure it out. I think we made it through the rocky stretches because John is as strong a person as I am. He’s an attorney too and he held his ground. Even when we were furious with one another, we never lost mutual respect. I’d be lost without him.”

Her spouse, John Thickstun:

“I’d been divorced for about a year when Alison and I met and started dating. I proposed a few months later. My friends asked me, why are you getting married again? And to a family law attorney!? So I explained, ‘This will guarantee that it will last. It has to!’ All kidding aside, divorce attorneys are participants in the end of a chapter -– the death of a relationship. But if they’re like Alison, they are also witness to the beginning of a new chapter -– a rebirth of sorts. Guiding people through the divorce process creates wisdom if you’re open and paying attention. Alison pays attention. She brings the wisdom she’s learned to our relationship. I love her more today than the day we were married over 18 years ago.” 

Christian Denmon, a divorce attorney in Tampa, Florida:

“Our situation is a little different: I’m a full-time divorce attorney. My wife does divorce work, but it is a minority of her practice. We apply what we learn from our practices to our relationship and it helps steer us on the right track. And I think, as we transition from what divorce lawyers call a short-term marriage to a medium-length marriage (we have been married seven years), we are still on strong footing. Much of it is thanks to her!” 

His spouse, Nicole Denmon:

“My husband listens more to other women’s problems than mine. The emergency phone calls at night and on the weekends used to bother me. I used to ask lots of questions as to why a female client needed to talk to him so badly at 7:30 p.m. on a Saturday night. But then I listened to his conversations. Some were true emergencies and others were him just be an attentive lawyer who knew when that his client needed to talk and needed advice right then. Although it did not constitute an emergency to him or me, the person on the other line truly believed that it was. I have come to learn that a good divorce attorney must be attentive and on call if a client needs to speak with them. I know that my husband does not always want to return a phone call, but he puts himself in the position of his client that is experiencing one of the most traumatic experiences one can go through: divorce.”

Nancy R. Van Tine, a divorce attorney in Boston, Massachusetts:

“Stu talked me into going to law school while he was studying for the bar exam. Four years later we started our own firm. I didn’t choose family law. I backed into it. I was the only female lawyer in my location when we hung out our shingle, and the divorce clients came as a result. And they kept coming, and I loved doing it. Stu and I worked as a team. He did a lot of my legal research and all my appellate writing in the early years. We’d discuss strategy, law and the clients all the time. I think we were more careful of each other in our marriage as a result. Marriage and divorce law have been a fun partnership.”

Her spouse, Stuart Van Tine:

“Yep, I’ve been married to a divorce lawyer for 52 years. She wasn’t a lawyer for the first 14. I’d been an attorney for five years when she was sworn in and we opened our own shop. We later joined a larger firm together; I retired, she’s still there. For us, practicing law together was fun. My end was stodgy bank and real estate work. Her practice seemed to bring new and amazing bits of insanity every day. What I remember most is her ability to keep her composure where very few people could, like laughing along with our staff at the death threat left on our answering machine or the court battle over custody of a stuffed parrot. Those were happy days.”

Katherine Eisold Miller, a divorce attorney in New Rochelle, New York: 

“Divorce lawyers hear some pretty crazy stories and we know what destroys relationships. Knowing what destroys them gives us a window into how to nurture and preserve our partnerships. On the other hand, we also know how to protect ourselves and our assets and that could be pretty scary if things weren’t going so well.”

Her spouse, Richard Heller:

“I’ve been married to a divorce attorney for 18 years. From the beginning I needed clear boundaries between work and relationship ― and no prenup. Prenups look to me like a self-fulfilling prophecy, like you’re planning the way out when you have not even begun while to my attorney bride, it just made sense to get clear on financial boundaries. Keeping communications from becoming ‘litigious’ is an ongoing practice for both of us. I often joke that ‘I’m married to a divorce lawyer, I don’t mess with her,’ but I actually find my spouse appreciates what an amazing marriage we have because she has seen so many marriages that were less than that. She works long hours and I miss her terribly, but our time together is always sweet.”

Daniel E. Clement, a divorce attorney in New York City:

“As a divorce attorney, my problem is not making my clients’ issues mine. While I am sympathetic, I have to remain detached to keep my objectivity and maintain my sanity. I certainly don’t want to bring their problems home with me. That said, I can use my client’s issues as life lessons. I can identify the mistakes they made in their relationships, in raising their children, in their decision making, and consciously modify my behavior so as not to follow them. I do not want to be someone’s divorce client.” 

His spouse, Michelle Schwartz Clement:

“Most of the time, Dan seems immune to the stresses of the day. Yes, there are days he brings it home, but what successful professional doesn’t do so?”

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I'm Married To A Divorce Attorney. This Is What Our Marriage Is Like

Divorce attorneys are experts on marriage. After all, every day in their offices, they see the petty squabbles and simmering issues that can easily bring down a long-term relationship.

What have they learned from their day jobs? We recently asked family law attorneys from across the country to share how their own marriages have been affected by their jobs and clients. To get a balanced account, we asked their spouses to weigh in, too! See what they had to say below:

Karen Covy, a divorce attorney and coach in Chicago, Illinois:

“I’ve been with my husband for 10 years and married for eight. I don’t take anything for granted. I’ve seen a lot of relationships that went south just because someone stopped paying attention to them. I see a lot of small mistakes that build into big problems. I’ve learned from the pain I witness every day. I consciously work on avoiding those mistakes myself. I try not to let my professional stress bleed into my personal life and I try not to cross-examine my husband. But I’m human!” 

Her spouse, Vit Homolka:

“It really doesn’t make much difference what profession my wife is in. She’s a strong woman and I like that. It’s true that sometimes when we’re talking, she hits me with her ‘lawyer’s logic.’ Our discussions get broken down into points and sub-points with supporting evidence. When she flips into lawyer-mode, it can feel like you’re in a court room. But, I know who she is inside. Her profession is not the primary thing in our marriage.” 

Margaret Klaw, a divorce attorney in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania:

“I’ve been married for 34 years and for 30 of them, I’ve been a divorce lawyer. You might think I’d be deeply cynical about the institution of marriage. But you would be totally wrong. I, along with many of my colleagues in the family law bar, are deep appreciators of marriage. I think that is because we, more than most people, truly understand the value of family. We know it’s what gives meaning to people’s lives because we experience firsthand the depth of the pain when it doesn’t work out. And I know that has made me a better spouse and parent. I’m tolerant of small problems and differences because I am so acutely aware of the big picture, of how unimportant those differences may be when compared to the potential cataclysm of divorce. I have to admit, though, that I’ve heard this from my husband more than once during an argument: ‘Stop cross examining me!’ But really, if that’s all he has to complain about, he has no idea how good he has it.”

Her spouse, Alan Metcalfe:

“I may have just a few more complaints but I share my attorney wife’s perspective on marriage. I also love hearing about how badly couples behave (no names, of course!) in court, marvel at how generous her clients can occasionally be with their estranged spouses in the name of their children, and often think how lucky I am to be in a solid marriage. I also know that I would be screwed if I tried to divorce her because she is the only person I would want to represent me in court.” 

Alison Patton, a divorce attorney and mediator in La Jolla, California:

“You would think that with all I’ve seen and learned through the years, I’d be great at marriage and not make the same mistakes divorcing clients have made. Not always the case. For years, John’s common line to me when we were having a marital spat was, ‘Can’t you just use your mediator skills for a goddamned minute and try to understand my perspective?!? And stop interrupting me!’ What I’ve learned from being in this profession is we all make the same mistakes in marriage. Some of us are just lucky enough to have the marriage survive until we figure it out. I think we made it through the rocky stretches because John is as strong a person as I am. He’s an attorney too and he held his ground. Even when we were furious with one another, we never lost mutual respect. I’d be lost without him.”

Her spouse, John Thickstun:

“I’d been divorced for about a year when Alison and I met and started dating. I proposed a few months later. My friends asked me, why are you getting married again? And to a family law attorney!? So I explained, ‘This will guarantee that it will last. It has to!’ All kidding aside, divorce attorneys are participants in the end of a chapter -– the death of a relationship. But if they’re like Alison, they are also witness to the beginning of a new chapter -– a rebirth of sorts. Guiding people through the divorce process creates wisdom if you’re open and paying attention. Alison pays attention. She brings the wisdom she’s learned to our relationship. I love her more today than the day we were married over 18 years ago.” 

Christian Denmon, a divorce attorney in Tampa, Florida:

“Our situation is a little different: I’m a full-time divorce attorney. My wife does divorce work, but it is a minority of her practice. We apply what we learn from our practices to our relationship and it helps steer us on the right track. And I think, as we transition from what divorce lawyers call a short-term marriage to a medium-length marriage (we have been married seven years), we are still on strong footing. Much of it is thanks to her!” 

His spouse, Nicole Denmon:

“My husband listens more to other women’s problems than mine. The emergency phone calls at night and on the weekends used to bother me. I used to ask lots of questions as to why a female client needed to talk to him so badly at 7:30 p.m. on a Saturday night. But then I listened to his conversations. Some were true emergencies and others were him just be an attentive lawyer who knew when that his client needed to talk and needed advice right then. Although it did not constitute an emergency to him or me, the person on the other line truly believed that it was. I have come to learn that a good divorce attorney must be attentive and on call if a client needs to speak with them. I know that my husband does not always want to return a phone call, but he puts himself in the position of his client that is experiencing one of the most traumatic experiences one can go through: divorce.”

Nancy R. Van Tine, a divorce attorney in Boston, Massachusetts:

“Stu talked me into going to law school while he was studying for the bar exam. Four years later we started our own firm. I didn’t choose family law. I backed into it. I was the only female lawyer in my location when we hung out our shingle, and the divorce clients came as a result. And they kept coming, and I loved doing it. Stu and I worked as a team. He did a lot of my legal research and all my appellate writing in the early years. We’d discuss strategy, law and the clients all the time. I think we were more careful of each other in our marriage as a result. Marriage and divorce law have been a fun partnership.”

Her spouse, Stuart Van Tine:

“Yep, I’ve been married to a divorce lawyer for 52 years. She wasn’t a lawyer for the first 14. I’d been an attorney for five years when she was sworn in and we opened our own shop. We later joined a larger firm together; I retired, she’s still there. For us, practicing law together was fun. My end was stodgy bank and real estate work. Her practice seemed to bring new and amazing bits of insanity every day. What I remember most is her ability to keep her composure where very few people could, like laughing along with our staff at the death threat left on our answering machine or the court battle over custody of a stuffed parrot. Those were happy days.”

Katherine Eisold Miller, a divorce attorney in New Rochelle, New York: 

“Divorce lawyers hear some pretty crazy stories and we know what destroys relationships. Knowing what destroys them gives us a window into how to nurture and preserve our partnerships. On the other hand, we also know how to protect ourselves and our assets and that could be pretty scary if things weren’t going so well.”

Her spouse, Richard Heller:

“I’ve been married to a divorce attorney for 18 years. From the beginning I needed clear boundaries between work and relationship ― and no prenup. Prenups look to me like a self-fulfilling prophecy, like you’re planning the way out when you have not even begun while to my attorney bride, it just made sense to get clear on financial boundaries. Keeping communications from becoming ‘litigious’ is an ongoing practice for both of us. I often joke that ‘I’m married to a divorce lawyer, I don’t mess with her,’ but I actually find my spouse appreciates what an amazing marriage we have because she has seen so many marriages that were less than that. She works long hours and I miss her terribly, but our time together is always sweet.”

Daniel E. Clement, a divorce attorney in New York City:

“As a divorce attorney, my problem is not making my clients’ issues mine. While I am sympathetic, I have to remain detached to keep my objectivity and maintain my sanity. I certainly don’t want to bring their problems home with me. That said, I can use my client’s issues as life lessons. I can identify the mistakes they made in their relationships, in raising their children, in their decision making, and consciously modify my behavior so as not to follow them. I do not want to be someone’s divorce client.” 

His spouse, Michelle Schwartz Clement:

“Most of the time, Dan seems immune to the stresses of the day. Yes, there are days he brings it home, but what successful professional doesn’t do so?”

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The HuffPost Lifestyle newsletter will make you happier and healthier, one email at a time. Sign up here.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from DIYS http://ift.tt/2lgev4D