#'-they literally have all the time in the world. SHE's the one who wants to be around to see it happen akfbbsbd''

[plaidos]

people on this website make it fucking embarassing to be a trans guy. please. please be normal about june. i love june. june is my best friend and a long time favourite of mine. she is one (1) more woman in a world that needs so many more cool women and girls. like i will admit way back in the day i was also one of those transmasc!john HCers, but what happened is i saw june, i went "oh, cool, so theres gonna actually be a canonical transgending for her!" and then i went off and decided some other character in whatever other media i was into at the time was transmasc. its that easy. please.

we arent Losing anything, we are Gaining canonical trans rep, just because she isn't a guy doesn't mean this is a loss for any of us. i swear these are the same people who reblog posts about loving trans girls and standing with sisters, not just cisters, etc etc, like. do you see what you put on your own blogs before sending death threats to the sisters you claim you want to protect. do these people have no moral spine.

anguish and suffering for 1 million years for these people. at this point im just gonna start femming all their faves.

literally!! all transmascs upset over June being transfem just hate transfems and consider trans representation that isn’t transmasc to be inherently a “loss” because it’s taking a male character and “giving it away” to women. absolutely no different to any of the misogynists saying Samus or Doctor Who made more sense as a man

[mangio-formaggio]

I love go to r/buffy cause a lot of my questions during the watch already was answered and there're obv some really valid takes and great analysis. But what drives me insane is a general consensus there that Spike is hanging out with scoobies out of pure selfishness, at all times. That he never cared about anyone, but Summers girls company...

And I'm always like... Seriously? This dude? The one who is physically unable to shut the fuck up? Who at most times need an audience to piss off or showing off in front of? The guy who gives almost everyone pet names and the one who did nothing for an almost whole season, but watch trashy tv, steal food like a stray cat and vibing? The guy who's yeah mistreated Harmony in general, but still usually at least tried to have a conversations with her and understand her logic? The guy we just know can charm a random waitress like he's in a PI in noir movie looking for a clues?

I'm sorry but Spike is such a people person. He enjoys being a part of community if it's fucked up enough to his liking.

And he fits in with Scoobies not only as mirror to their shortcomings, insecurities and selfhatered, but also as a validation to their strength and quirks.

His bond with Willow at s4 and s5 is much about confidence and queerness of its all. How how he multiple times complemented her magic skills and almost respectfully accepted her authority when Buffy is comatose. How at the point of treachery he plays on her fear of consequences of coming out so easily as if he almost went through this himself (reinvent his persona as a vamipre). How she multiple times expresses empathy towards him, cause you know... The guy is going through some shit? Sort of changing? Unwillingly yes, but he is trying in his own fucked up way, right? She literally asks for confidence and he gives her a flask. He's a supernatural creature striped down slowly to a human, and she's a human who rapidly gains supernatural power. They bond in a middle of their personal journey's, but then at the darkest personal points, it's all again about power and confidence. Spike hurts Buffy cause his inner human is hurt and his supernatural part can't grasp boundaries while his memory of human decency lies down bleeding. Willow hurts Tara and other people after Tara's death, cause again her supernatural part that gives her strength to go through human vulnerability is too strong and intoxicating.

Spike butts heads with Xander the most. And it makes so much sense cause they're both paladins of the group. With chip Spike can punch only demons and yet still has super strength, Xander usually can punch anyone but with very little success usually. They're useful, but not essential to the win without a contribution from other members of the group. And yes I want to knock off Xander's teeth like 95% percentage of the time, but also he did grew on me a tiny little bit? Cause of course he so terrified of becoming his dad, he aggressively rushes to protect women in his life. Of course his anger and fear gets better of him constantly and makes him punching walls. Of course he's possessive and insecure, cause who will love him when this anger must has been built into him through genetic and stuff. Spike a litteral predator and he's constantly keeps it in control through love and devotion. Xander wants to express his love and devotion so desperately, he's unable to keep this worst emotions in control in a process.

Spike genuinely likes Anya there can't be any questions about it. Their both sort of "demon out of water" type of person. They both think violence is fun and social rules are stupid, but wait, there're some humans who are actually quite dear to them against all better judgment, so they will have try to fit in, I guess?

Spike and Tara are fools for love. There's a gentleness in both of them, that is seems to be useless in this world, where people he love to pieces hurt us the most. But Tara said no to abuse before, so she can hold on to some dignity and leave, while Spike submit himself to all mutual mistreatments cause it's the only way he knows how to love romantically/sexually.

Spike eats Giles's peanut butter, irritates the hell out of him and rotting on his couch as of he's a college kid on holliday. They more than once in text called father and son. They finish each other's thoughts/sentences. They both have a countercultural themes in their image. They both would kill for Buffy and would kill so Buffy won't have to. It hurts Buffy that Spikes is soulless, it breaks Buffy's heart when Giles has to be so pragmatic and dispassionate that it feels soulless. And I'm not saying that Buffy is attracted to Spike cause she has daddy issues, but she most definitely has daddy issues. She can't help but fall in a doomed lovers narrative, cause her biological father left and doesn't want to be present even a little bit, but she also took to heart Giles's devotion to her, so whenever she truly sees Spike it's when he does act of service kind of love. Spike is her anchor, when Giles is gonne. Giles sacrificed his whole career (big bad) and identity (soulless vampire) for Buffy. Giles based so much of his persona on renunciation and control that it's terrifies him to see Spike near Buffy with all his passion and all-consuming obsession. Spike looks in Giles's face that is so full of anger and threat while he's telling him to snap out of it and leave Buffy alone. And it hurts by some reason. Cause it's not stupid Harris and his unfunny jokes, it's someone who Buffy trusts on a very special level and maybe after all "Passion" marathons Giles could cut him some slake? Of course other Scoobies wouldn't tell both of then about resurrection plan. Spike wouldn't let anyone hurt Buffy even if she returned completely fucked up, and Giles would have to be the one to hurt her in this case scenario cause kids would most definitely chicken out. And with any outcome they both would loose the last bits of sanity there left.

[ladybugsimblr]

simshaderoom Bfly Hive…… How are we doing this morning? You good? If you went to bed early last night you missed Bailey Kay make the announcement to cancel her upcoming residency as well as take a break from entertainment. If you need us we’re gonna be crying and doing choreography in the corner while BK is home chilling with her fam, looking gorgeous, glowing and rubbing her bump. Congratulations (Tyrese voice).

dizzy des Hate to say it. No I don’t. I TOLD YOU SO. Check for those refunds and then buy tix to my show instead. #ReclaimingTheThrone #BKE Springs #StayTuned

dizzy des And for the record she QUIT her job. Officially quit the Entertainer Career. That's not a break. Just up and quit on y'all. Sad. Is this your Queen?! 🤣 Another win for me. Gotta love it.

rubberbandshan Chile. Anyways. I am in my butterfly feelings. I can’t lie. But BK deserves to take all the time she needs. She has literally given us life her entire career. We gon be alright. Love you BK 🦋❤️

kingb A blessing in disguise. I spent way too much on tickets and the Watcher knows what I was about to do for the flight & hotel 😩. We stan a responsible Queen 😆. Seriously we love you BK 🦋❤️

simsagainstBK Girl. Just retire. Pack it up. You're done. Finally.

perfectmoms It’s about time she put her kids first. Only took until the fourth one. SMH

anon Yikes. So postponing wasn’t an option? She’s not coming back y’all. Time for us to move on.

bflyhive As long as Butterfly Springs is open I’ll be there to party! I’m about to visit that exhibit every damn day. I’m sure BK will make an appearance and I’m not missing it 🦋❤️

bkstan Prioritizing family and her mental and physical health Is the ultimate Queen move. We love and support you BK! 🦋❤️

c.spiracy I know we might be feeling down right now, but BK wants us to look at the positive. She said don’t let anyone break our souls or steal our happy and that includes her. This is still a celebration! And what we’re celebrating was in the hidden message I’m sure you missed. BK touched her belly a total of three times during the live. The very first time she did it she said the baby was bringing run the world energy. Who runs the world? Girls! Gender of her first child? Girl! How many girls would she have total? 3! Issa baby butterfly gender reveal! Thank you BK for the special way you always communicate with us! We love you and will wait until the end of time for you! 🦋🩷

[sepublic]

TW for Cults and Mass Suicide

Dana confirmed during Pixelatl 2022 that Belos was based on people like Televangelists, serial killers, and cult leaders. I’ve already discussed the serial killer aspect to Belos, and the Televangelism is obvious for a Puritan offshoot who nevertheless indulges in gilded aesthetics and glory as he builds elaborate structures for his own gain.

We’ve all acknowledged the Emperor’s Coven is a cult and the show’s point that You are not immune to propaganda, so I want to make another connection regarding the cult leader aspect. IIRC Dana mentioned the American cult movements of the 70��s, or at least I’m pretty sure that’s what she’s alluding to. Because the Day of Unity is a mass cult suicide, so the allusion to incidents such as Jonestown and Heaven’s Gate are obvious.

Jonestown was a cult led by Jim Jones, a rich white ordained Christian minister. His cult was initially based in California but later moved to the South American country of Guyana, and 70% of Jones’ followers were black. When his cult was investigated for human rights abuses by the U.S. government, Jones got a politician looking into the case murdered. Realizing the government was going to retaliate for this, Jones had everyone commit mass suicide, talking a lot of hot shit about how they were sending a message. The followers were made to drink cyanide, those who didn’t want to were forced, and Jones chickened out of a slow and agonizing death via a gunshot wound to the head.

Heaven’s Gate was led by Marshall Applewhite, who was initially recruited himself before becoming its leader. He convinced followers that the angels of the Bible were actually space aliens, seizing upon the UFO trends of the time. He told his followers they would ascend their physical forms after committing suicide, and instructed them to do so when the comet Hale-Bopp passed by. His reasoning was that an alien UFO was hiding behind the comet, and when he and his followers ascended, their spirits would be taken in by the UFO and they would be taken to a new world.

So you can see the connecting threads in The Owl House; There’s possibly more incidents Dana was thinking of. But so far, we have a wealthy cult leader, preaching his own version of Christianity. He joined a cult but ultimately committed to the harm by liberating himself as the one in charge who knows what he’s doing to everyone else; After all, he claims to follow a doctrine but hypocritically can make exceptions for himself on convenience. It’s not as if he doesn’t/can’t know better (Just like how so many Americans will blame their education system for their ignorance, yet refuse to utilize their other resources).

He’s a white American who established his cult on colonized land, and is manipulating a minority group into committing suicide. He’s telling them that when a celestial object passes overhead, they will be led to a rapturous paradise on another planet. He himself knows exactly what fate he’s giving his followers and cowardly avoids it. Ultimately, he encourages everyone to kill themselves because he doesn’t want to face reality and it’ll make himself feel better about his situation, like a big hero.

Despite the Collector being a literal space alien who’s made complicit in this, there’s nevertheless no paradise, there’s no rapture, just death. American Evangelicalism was a breeding ground for cults like these, whose followers were dispossessed people.

The mention of space aliens also makes me think of Jacob Hopkins, who establishes Belos’ motive by being the first foreshadowing of it to begin with; Hopkins IS Belos, thematically speaking, so we have some white guy wanting to feel better about his miserable life by believing there’s some hidden, otherworldly truth to the world and he’s important for calling it out.

Ironically, Belos himself became the conspiracy, just as he became the evil strawman witch he spoke about; Going full CIA in trying to destabilize another nation by pulling the strings because its mere existence as something his white American Christian group can’t control HAS to be an inherent threat. Because of course, Hopkins and Belos wanted to murder these space aliens (which witches technically qualify as) because there’s the intersectionality of racism and the Alt-Right for them as well.

There’s something equal parts absurd and banal about it all. Sometimes there is some conspiracy or hidden truth out there, it’s just way more mundane than it’s said to be; Hence the difference between conspiracy-minded folk who need there to be a plot VS people making basic observations. Like yes the CIA did do that and publically admitted to it, even. Witches and demons exist and are hidden from society, they’re just… minding their own business. And that cult does have some secretive endgame, but it’s not a rapture event it’s just mass suicide to inflate the ego of the leader.

And I think that’s an important distinction to make; It’s the fantasy genre so it’s par for the course. But it’s nice to clarify, say in an episode where the protagonist returns to her own mundane world, that this conspiracy is likely BS with an undercurrent of bigotry to it. Some political figures need to be taken out but the real horror is how the average person isn’t a monster, but just as fooled as you, and means well when they excitedly march towards fascism. IRL witch hunters didn’t believe in otherworldly beings, they just hated women and minorities; And even in the world where one did confirm otherworldly beings, he’s just as insincere and bigoted about his approach as all the rest.

[sunshineangel0]

chapter eleven

pairing- bang chan x OC (Chi Nakamura) genre- slow burn, romantic comedy, slice of life word count- 1.1k warnings- mild language, sweet confessions, post-closing cafe make out (🤭) a/n- this is a little filler chapter for the story since i have a little plot hole in the upcoming plot and i have to figure this out 🤨but i hope you enjoy a small heated chi and chan moment hehehe. also, thanks to my loyal taglist readers 🥹seeing your comments under the posts literally makes my day. i hope you enjoy this story further on like i do 💕💕💕

The kitchen door slammed shut behind them, muffling the chaos outside. Chi spun to face him, hands planted on her hips, eyes wild. “Are you out of your mind?!”

Chris blinked, unbothered. “Probably.”

She stared at him. “You kissed me. In the middle of the café. In front of actual people.” He nodded. “Sure did.”

“During lunch rush.”

He tilted his head. “Wasn’t that busy.”

Chi made a strangled sound and paced two full laps around the prep table before stopping, pointing a trembling finger at him.

“You realize they all know now? Not just that you’re you, but that we—” she waved her hand between them, “—whatever this is?”

Chris didn’t flinch. If anything, he stepped closer.

“I know.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

He hesitated just enough to let the silence stretch. Then, quietly, “No. Not if it’s you.”

Chi’s breath caught.

It would’ve been easier if he laughed it off. If he made a joke and shrugged like he always did. But he didn’t.

He looked at her like this was a decision he’d already made a long time ago. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. “You just went public. Without warning. With me.”

Chris gave her a small, crooked smile. “Didn’t plan to. Just got tired of pretending you’re just my barista.”

Her heart lurched. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping close again. “I did.”

She stared at him. At the guy who used to sneak in at 5:30, order coffee like clockwork, disappear without a trace.

Now he was standing here in her kitchen, unmasked in more ways than one. “I’m not exactly built for this,” she whispered.

Chris softened. “I know.”

“I don’t want cameras outside my apartment. I don’t want hate online. I didn’t sign up to be part of the Bang Chan circus.”

“I didn’t want to bring you into it.” He reached for her hand, careful, steady. “But I didn’t want to lose you either.”

Her throat tightened. His fingers brushed hers, tentative, like he was still giving her an out.

“Chi,” he said, voice low. “Tell me what you want.”

Silence stretched between them.

Then—finally—she exhaled.

“I want coffee at 5:30. I want peace. I want muffins and music and mornings where we don’t have to think so hard.” She looked up at him. “But more than that, I want you. The version that walks in sleepy and soft. The one who steals pastries and calls me out when I forget to eat.”

Chris’s grip tightened just slightly. “Then that’s what you’ll get.”

“And the rest?”

He smiled. A little sad, but certain. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Chi studied him. It wouldn’t be easy. The fallout was probably already snowballing outside. Headlines. Speculation. Maybe worse.

But in here, in this moment?

It was just them.

She nodded once. “Okay.” Chris blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice steadier now. “But next time you pull a grand romantic gesture in public, warn me. I need time to mentally prepare.”

He grinned. “So no flash mobs?”

“Absolutely not.”

Chris laughed and finally, finally, pulled her into a real hug—tight, grounding, familiar.

Outside, the world might’ve been losing its mind.

But inside this kitchen, wrapped in the arms of the boy who used to be just her regular?

Everything made sense.

The café was dark except for the warm glow of a single light above the counter, casting golden shadows across the room. The air was still thick with the scent of espresso and sugar. Outside, the world had gone quiet.

Chris leaned against the counter, eyes locked on her.

Chi stood a few feet away, arms crossed, chewing the inside of her cheek like she was trying not to say something reckless.

"Say it," he murmured, voice low, rough.

She didn’t move.

Chris stepped closer. “Chi.” She looked up at him.

Whatever restraint was holding her back? It snapped.

“You can’t keep looking at me like that,” she breathed.

He blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for permission.”

That broke him.

In two steps, he was in front of her, hands gripping her hips, lips crashing into hers before she could say anything else. No hesitation. No space left between them. His mouth was hot, demanding, and she gave in immediately, arms winding around his neck, pulling him in like she needed him closer.

He lifted her, breathless, and set her on the counter in one swift movement—his hands spreading her thighs so he could slot himself between them, chest pressed to hers, heart pounding against her ribs.

Chi moaned softly against his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging—just enough to make him groan.

His hands dragged down her sides, over her hips, gripping tighter than usual, grounding himself in the feel of her. She was soft, warm, completely wrapped around him, and he wanted more.

He kissed her like he was starving.

Like he had gone days pretending not to want this.

His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, then lower—nipping at the skin just under her ear, dragging a shaky breath from her chest.

“Chris,” she whispered, voice wrecked and breathless.

He pulled back just enough to look at her.

Eyes heavy. Lips swollen. Face flushed.

And that look—the one that said you’re mine right now—that almost did her in.

“I’ve been trying to be patient,” he said, voice low and dark, “but you keep looking at me like you want me to lose control.”

Chi’s fingers gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him back in. “So lose it.”

He kissed her again—deeper this time. Rougher. His hands slid under her sweater, fingers tracing hot paths along her waist, her back, making her shiver beneath his touch.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him flush against her, and he exhaled a sharp breath against her mouth.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he muttered, lips brushing hers with every word.

“Then stop pretending you don’t want to go crazy for me,” she whispered back.

His answer came in the form of another kiss—hot, possessive, all-consuming. One hand braced behind her, the other cupping her jaw as he tilted her face up to meet him, deeper, harder, teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

The air between them turned molten.

It was teeth and tongue and quiet groans. It was fingers dragging along skin and heat pressing into heat. It was all the tension they’d buried coming undone in a single moment—on a countertop, behind a locked door, in a café that had no idea what it had just witnessed.

And when he finally pulled back, breath ragged, lips still brushing hers, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered:

“I’m not walking away from this. From you.”

Chi’s heart was still thundering in her chest.

Neither was she.

©sunshineangel0 𖹭 if you liked this work, please consider reblogging, commenting or liking! xoxo franzi 💋

skz general: @velvetmoonlght @scarlet789 @estella-novella @nightmarenyxx

Mochi and Bean: @offl-ine @missvanjii @watchingover-hypegirl @namchanhyung @d0nnie---dark0 @queenofdumbfuckery

(if you wanna be added to the taglist comment below!)

[mneiai]

okay sorry another ikepri rant

(Spoilers for only Season 1 routes)

So I've done a bunch of routes now and there's some stuff that, throughout all of them, really drives me up a wall.

I'm sure other people have addressed these a bunch and probably in better ways, but I need to get them off my chest. Prefacing this by saying I haven't done the Sariel route, yet, and maybe his magically smooths out all the issues, idk.

Below the cut is my rants about Belle being a secret, Clause 99 existing, and Leon vs Chevalier.

The Belle thing:

Okay, but in WHAT WORLD would a tiny landlocked country EVER want people ANYWHERE to know that their king is dead and they have no idea who the next one will be for a month?

So WHY is the MC being a "secret Belle" such an issue? They should have a system in place already to hide Belles! Every single Belle should have been secret until she'd chosen the next king!

Hell, they should just have random commoner women come into the palace and hang with the princes all the time so no one knows which one will ACTUALLY be the Belle.

I get that this was the way they chose to have the MC interacting with the princes because they couldn't be bothered giving them more original storylines and stuff, but they could have made it make some sense. I don't even have a problem with the ridiculous fantasy aspects of Belles even being a thing, it's that they seem to have made no real allowances for them in the culture and practices of the palace!

Clause 99:

So this ONE GUY fucks up and they have to make a (horribly written holy shit it's like they wanted it to be broken) whole ass new clause in what is presumably a pretty ancient contract that makes no sense whatsoever. Because this wasn't even the first time a Belle chose someone that ended up being a shit king! Yet the clause is brand new?

Firstly, the only reason the last king's relationship with his Belle was a problem was because OTHER PEOPLE made it so, especially considering he can have multiple wives and that children born out of wedlock are still considered equal royals. Like the dude could rape a maid and still make the son a prince! What does it matter if his first wife is a commoner? It's not like he gets to choose his heir!

Secondly, what if Belle ended up being a great asset to the kingdom? An awesome aide, or gifted at diplomacy, or who knows what else? You're just going to kick her to the curb still?

Nevermind what happens if she ends up with a prince who doesn't become king and how awkward that makes anything family related.

And, of course, all of these things are sort of shown in game as it's REALLY FUCKING EASY for the king to break that clause to the point it clearly only exists as a bullshit drama device.

It's not even actually solving the issue--a king could just spend his whole life lovesick and never have sex with anyone after being forcibly separated or something. The real Clause 99 should have been something like 'The King must first marry and have a child with a noblewoman before he can have an official relationship with Belle" or you know something that would force the King to have a kid like Chevalier because he'd want to marry his Belle so badly.

(Also, how the hell is Sariel always acting surprised that the MC didn't read the whole contract? He gave her next to no time in a high stress environment to sign it! It would have literally taken her the entire night to read it!)

(And, listen, I get that Jin has some huge fucking hangups about it, but all him koolaid man'ing his way into other people's relationships makes me do is dislike him more, especially since really, if anything, HE should be more in favor of ways to compromise on the king and Belle relationship, not lording over a commoner woman for daring to love a king! Also, what a total dickbag for not making sure all of his brothers knew about it beforehand!)

Leon vs Chevalier:

I have a TON of issues with these two being setup as rivals.

Chevalier is made impossibly perfect in his and related routes to the point where only someone like Gilbert is actually his match. Even though Leon is more personable, more charismatic, almost equally good at fighting, surprisingly clever, and also NOT HATED BY MOST OF THE COUNTRY AND EVERY CITIZEN OF THEIR LARGEST NEIGHBOR, somehow he's always just this background character in seemingly any route that makes Chevalier the king.

Leon actually has the significantly better backstory (like holy shit most tragic backstory award no matter what anyone else comes out with, the guy didn't even have a NAME) and personality for becoming a king and it's not like Chev would abandon the kingdom just because of it. Making Leon king means he would actually consider what Chevalier said and suggested and make compromises when necessary, something Chevalier is largely incapable of doing outside of his route, where he's softened.

And, finally, the biggest one...WHY THE FUCK ARE THEIR PHILOSOPHIES TREATED AS EQUAL? It's always like 'oh, yeah, Leon's is good, but Chevalier's is equally reasonable' and shit. Leon's philosophy is literally 'I want everyone to have good lives' and Chevalier's, outside of his own route, is literally 'I want to turn our peaceful kingdom into a militarized imperialistic force that will violently sweep across and oppress the whole continent.' HOW ARE THESE EQUAL? I know Cybird writers jack off to monarchies and shit, but c'mon.

(Also what the FUCK is up with Clavis thinking Leon would let a bunch of refugees be slaughtered just because it might make things diplomatically difficult?? the guy literally gives spies who betray him second chances lmao)

[nightbutterfly09]

Hello! your work is something! I don’t want to miss the chance to share a possible idea!

The reader is a genius striker, while he (for example, Isagi, Sae, Reo) is your most devoted fan, ready to follow you around the world. While she play in championships, he sneaks into restricted areas of stadiums to wish she luck and support she in every way possible.

English is not my native language, sorry if it is not written clearly!

Hii thank you for your request! Don't worry, english isn't my native language either!!

Apologies if it took long, I wanted to make sure I don't dissappoint TxT

Also, some others also requested some things which Im super happy about! It means a lot to me so thank you everyone. I can't guarantee speediness, but I'll do them with due time.

I hope you'll enjoy 🩷

Characters used: Yoichi Isagi, Reo Mikage, Michael Kaiser, Sae Itoshi

(I feel like Isagi’s got a little long.. upsiees)

_____________________________________________

Yoichi Isagi

He simply adored the striker named Y/N L/N. The thought of liking this woman even better than Noel Noa hit him like a truck. He loved both, but if he needed to decide between the two, he’d surely pick you. His girlfriend of two years.

You had a match in Rio de Janeiro, and he had one back in Japan. Regardless to him, that didn't matter. He threw that out the window without a lingering thought, and bought tickets. Sometimes you had to scold him. He is throwing his life away for you, in the literal sense.

“Yoichi! Who in their right mind would do that?” You sighed, reaching the end of the same old conversation. “I’ll play in the next one, it’ll be alright.” He protested. It’s just the same old disagreement. He wanted to fly out with you, no matter the consequences.

It wasn't that you were severely against him supporting you with all his might, you just wanted to be realistic.

The next day, there he was. With you on the plane. Sitting closely next to you. He leaned his head onto your shoulder.

“Good luck my love~” he yawns. “Luck for what?” You chuckled. For this match you needed more than just luck. The opposite team was strong. You’ve been defeated by them once, back in the day, and you can’t let them take another win. That’s straight out disrespectful. At least, that’s what you always said.

When the loud cheers for your team made the stadium erupt in shouts, whistles you bathed in the recognition. With each win, it was like you became someone more important. Your dream, to be number one wasn’t so unachievable after all. That’s how Yoichi’s gaze lingered on you.

He was watching from the stadium’s highest stands, where no one but the staff could be. He enjoyed seeing you from so high up. Because when you turned, your gazes met. Without a single soul covering anything.

The man smiled down at you and subtly waved. He looked proud. Proud of his striker. His eyes told you many unspoken words. He was like an open book, without any complicated words.

Maybe, after you’ve changed, the flight will have to be delayed. At least if he isn’t opposed. Which you guarantee he isn’t.

_____________________________________________

Reo Mikage

Everyone knew how obsessed this chameleon was with his wife-to-be. That was quite obvious even to someone who only heard of the player.

Your next match was in Italy. Japan and Italy are obviously miles away. But when you told him you’d be overseas for a month (as your training camp was also held there) he didn’t flatter an eyelid. He straight up nodded and purchased the tickets.

“What are you doing?” You asked. Flabbergasted. “I bought first class tickets.” He smiled. “Best for the best.” With a shrug he was ready to leave the topic. Not on your watch.

You grabbed his phone and quickly clicked out from the webpage. “No way. You have your job too! Not to mention the company!” You frowned at him.

“Stop looking at me like I did something horrible. I can’t just leave my girl to fly alone, live alone, and be lonely. If I have the money, I'm going. Naturally.” He didn’t falter. His voice told a thousand reasons why he can’t back down. The conversation had no further space for an argument.

Even if you really wanted to stop him, you knew it’s hopeless. Once Reo wanted something, he would be sure to bring it to his deathbed even. “Still.. what will your manager say?” You trailed off not wanting to look at him. “He’ll understand, if I have anything going on i’ll jus cancel it. If it’s a meeting, since this is the 21st century, I can just attend from my laptop. If it’s about soccer… well no one would mind me missing out for once.”

He was determined. No backing off now. His argument was fair and it was already set in stone. Still, you feel his manager. You would’ve already quit with how he acts sometimes.

The numbers were close but you ended up winning. You were the one to hit the last goal, therefore you were swimming in the glory again. The loud celebrations of the audience filled the air around you. Only when you met those dark purple eyes did the outside noise come to a halt.

He was watching you from where he wouldn’t be spotted. Perhaps, he didn’t want people to pay attention to him, when his gemstone is out there doing her best. Your heart fluttered as he smirked. The moment caged you two into your world, completely shutting out everything and everyone else.

Truthfully. You felt great that he watched you. You wanted to thank him for coming.

_____________________________________________

Michael Kaiser

The man heads over heels for his partner. Undying love, undying attachment. There was no way he could release you from his grasp. Not even for that one stupid match. Not when he was so down bad for you.

It was impossible to stop him. You were fully aware why he is so broken and damaged. But there wasn't any reason to love him less. Quite the opposite, you always thought he should be even more cherished.

But to let him accompany you for another match overseas… Now that was a little risky for you too. In the end, his decision. But he’s been missing practice, and matches frequently.

“Are you sure it’s okay to skip again?” Though it was more of a rhetorical question. With a grumble he responded not even looking up from what he busied himself with. “Don't care about others’ opinions.” “Surely your manager’s opinion counts!”

“He is there for my career, not for my private life.” With that you really couldn't argue. “Anyway, I will be at the usual spot, so find me”

And there he was. Looking straight at you as you. As you shot the ball straight into the goal.

The eyes of the world were heavy on you but the only thing you cared about was your boyfriend. He waved lazily and smiled. A rare smile coming from him. Regardless, it enchanted you each time.

_____________________________________________

Sae Itoshi

Your boyfriend was never one to show his deliberate feelings. With him everything was a little puzzle. When it came to them anyway.

The only thing he was brave to show was his love for soccer. He always bought every merch of yours. He wouldn't admit it but when he was far away from you he often wore those signed shirts.

No one could imagine he’d go crazy over a player but ever since the first time he’s seen you he always hoped he could someday pass the ball to you. That was when he first saw you in Spain.

Ever since then, playing as a midfielder was for the sole purpose of passing to you. Even if he knew that's impossible.

He was overjoyed when he and you started talking. First it was only about your jobs, but later it all got a little deeper.

At every match you had, no matter where it was, the soccer addict was willing to shake up all the priorities he set in stone. All for a girl. All for Y/N L/N. All for his girlfriend.

He was there each time, hiding from the watchful eyes so all the glory could be yours. Because he was sure that if he were to appear people would take their eyes off of you. You didn't ever deserve that.

He needed everyone to look at you. To be amazed by you. He needed to see everyone’s gaze locked onto you. Even if he wanted you just to himself. Even if he hated sharing.

[zombeikid]

Laimar Brain Rot Pt. 3

Marcille's turn! Sorry these are so broken up. Tumblr gets pissy when you write too much.

So, here's the thing. I don't think Marcille has a crush on Laios in the story as it's told. If she does, it happens very, very late in the story. I do think she finds Laios attractive, or at least his attention? She only puts on the frog suit when he tells her she'll look cute in it. I think this is also why she was looking for his validation during the red dress scene. He found her cute as a frog monster, surely he will find her pretty with the fancy dress on, right? (RIGHT LAIOS?) (Side note, I'm really sad we don't ever see her or the party's reaction to finding out his succubus was her but as a monster.) I have a few theories on why Laios didn't reply to her, one being that Chil is right there and he'd be rude about it, the other being that Laios just can't read a room. He grew up around pretty exclusively around his little sister or other men. He doesn't know that girls want to be told they're pretty! Now why do I think there is a chance for Marcille to grow to romantically like Laios, beyond her wanting male validation? Well, I think Laios would become her comfort person post-canon. We know that Falin, Chilchuck, Senshi, and Izutsumi all leave to do their own things. Laios and Marcille are the only two people who stay together at the end. I also think Laios kind of fulfills but also subverts her romantic ideologies. He's too much of a goober to be a suave, debonair prince. That said, he is literally the knight who climbs the tower to save the princess. (There's also the potentially starting a war with the elves as his very first act as king to protect her...) I think they'd also bond over their shared experience of being dungeon lords. Of course Mithrun (and Thistle, depending on if you think he lived or not) could also bond there but Laios and Marcille have a very different.. Experience with the Lion than the other two. And I don't think it's all Laios saving Marcille, I just think Marcille would find it particularly romantic. Post-canon, we see that they spend a lot of time together. The dynamic of savior and savee? gets flipped when Marcille essentially becomes Laios' magical body-guard. Marcille really trusts Laios and I think that's an important foundation of a relationship. They spend the night drinking together in Thistle's cottage, he even sleeps on the floor next to her bed! She also goes to him about the stuff with the Lion, she relies on his leadership when it comes to the should-we-commit-crimes stuff. Laios trusts Marcille to know what she's doing and she trusts him to trust her. There's also the part where she asks him to stay with her, to join her. He turns her down because he knows it's the wrong thing to do. After Falin leaves, they would have another thing to bond over. They loved Falin, they ripped the world apart for her, lost parts of themselves for her, and she left. It's understandable why she left but she did. I just.. I just think they'd find a lot of comfort in each other. Like I said, I see the Marcille angle of the relationship as a lot weaker than the reverse. I really love the idea of them growing closer as time goes on, exploring the Golden Country together, inventing stuff together, being NERDS together. Romantic or not, I think Laios and Marcille did become best friends. They are each other's biggest cheerleaders. They trust the other but aren't afraid of calling the other out. They protect each other and teach each other and learn from each other.

Also I just think they're both hot and they should kiss about it. That's all for now. I wrote this in one sitting with no editing or anything so I'm so sorry if you read the whole thing. Also I hope you have a lovely day and an even tastier meal.

[anotheroceanid]

because you're my writing inspiration, i've decided to pester you with questions about it! >:) if you don't mind ❤️

what's your creative process look like? what normally comes first to you, the idea for a plot, specific moments, vibes/themes, world building, etc.?

what type of character is your favorite to write? what's your favorite relationship dynamic to write?

how do decide a character needs to die? (like a named, known-by-the-audience character, not Red Shirt #3 lol)

favorite type of comment to receive? don't say "any comment" >:) longer, more WTHB-centered questions:

WTHB is shaping up to be a very long story juggling a lot of characters that spans YEARS(i'm obsessed with it—so excited), how do you even begin to break down and organize the story beats for something this big? do you picture it like a series of movies or novels? like tv show episodes? or does it truly just all come together as one massive plot arc in your mind? summing such a large work down into one concise summary sounds daunting

any advice on writing romance? Percy and Apollo have barely appeared together in flashbacks even, most of their love story has been off-screen, but you make them so compelling! i feel their yearning in my soul T-T

i find this question hard to ask for some reason. WTHB!Percy is a mother currently being held hostage, do you ever worry that people will think she's been relegated to a damsel in distress or just "the mom" character?

This will be a long answer but I got soooo excited with this ask

Soooo

1. Yk how people categorise themselves as plotters and pantsers? I think I’m a plantser 😅

Like, my first “inspiration” can be anything (I’ve literally dreamed with things that then became stories), so when I get some idea banging on my head I start to imagine how it’d look like as a story, so I set the tone I want before I write anything.

From then, I start imagining important scenes that will drive the plot. One of the first scenes I imagined for WTHB (once I had defined who the kids would be, because I spent a lot of time making up kid ocs until I ended up with the triplets, with Luke being the only one I was decided from the start) was the boys being taken scene, then Hector meeting Jason, then a few scenes between Annabeth and Milo that didn’t happen yet.

So, like I said, I am a plantser, which means I do plot (a lot) but I still like to keep some things open so I can change if I figure something out while I’m writing.

What I do, I set the main plots and it’s narrators (if there is more than one), since I’m using WTHB as an example, rk we have these

The Greek Arc (Annabeth & Milo)

The Roman Arc (Jason & Hector)

Percy’s Arc

Apollo’s Arc (which is also the god’s arc)

So, these arcs affect each other. What character A does in Place 1 can affect Character B in place 2 and vice versa, so even if these characters aren’t interacting directly, they still cause things to happens in each others lives.

This is relevant because rk almost all characters of WTHB are separated geographically, but their stories are interconnected.

What I like to do, is write each characters arc but using a mind map, so I make a linear mapping using some structure (heroine arc, hero arc, seven plot structure, you can pick whatever you want, I usually use heroine’s arc even for men).

You can use obsidian, miro, or even draw it at hand.

But the mind map give you a visual way to develop your plot, so you can see when each plot point takes place. And the thing is, not always the characters are synchronised, so I organise it in a way that events happening more or less at the same time are aligned, and if some event from A affects B I draw a line connecting them or even explain what happened.

I don’t have my laptop with me rk, but it is more or less like this:

This way, you can figure out the main events of the story without having to write EVERYTHING that will happen. If you need to change something, you know more or less how it’ll affect every characters.

I also make a timeline of events (this because I’m dealing with a lot of worldbuilding, so I better know when things happened even if I’m not using it directly on the story). I also, sometimes, write down some topics like I live in that world and I’m giving myself a class about those events.

Another thing I like to do, is organising the chapters even before I write them. I use scrivener to write, but you can do it on obsidian to (I use scrivener for worldbuilding only). Each character have a different number of chapters, it depends on the arc. Like, Percy and Apollo are the only narrators of their arcs, but both the Greek and Roman arc have two narrators, so the narrators share the amount of chapters.

This is it, then I write. If needed, I go back and re-do something. I’m always re-reading the chapters I already posted, because sometimes I forget a few details.

Sometimes I draw to inspire myself to write, this helps too 😂 and vice versa. I think the hardest part is when you’re dealing with a large geographical space, and your characters are all scattered, specially when they have to move around and you have to make math so it makes sense, specially when it’s not your own country 🤒

2. I like writing the “colateral effect” characters. Like, using WTHB as an example again. I love writing Percy, Apollo, the triplets, ofc I do. I love them. But there’s something so enjoyable about writing Annabeth and Jason because, while they did a not of horrible things, they were thrown in that mess and they’re just dealing with it.

3. 😵😵😵 Okay, harsh. But usually, since I keep going back and forth and imagining different outcomes, so I play with killing characters. Then I consider the impact of their deaths to the other characters and to the story as a whole.

4. As you can see, I love talking. So I loooveee comments I have to answer topic by topic. But I still appreciate all of them, it’s just that I like interacting 😅

5. I kind of answered this one in the first topic, but I make myself a lot of content where I can check my own work. And yeah, I imagine as a show 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️ as a novel 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️ as an animation 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️ as a Bollywood movie 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️ as a broadway musical 😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️ as a lot of things.

But nope, even though now I can’t tell the whole arc as block of text if needed, I think that’s counterproductive to me. So I work with mind maps, I use the actual map to have an idea where the characters are and where they’re going, I make sheets sometimes, and ofc, the timeline (I mean, I always say that, but the timeline of the story ain’t linear, so things are happening in different times for different characters, and I need to know 😂)

6. Actually romance is actually hard to me, I just focus in creating a meaningful connection between the characters through their similarities and their differences. I’m a sucker for friends to lovers, so I try showing how character A and B learn things from each other, and appreciate each other beyond a physical sphere. Idk if that makes much sense, but this is it. And to antagonise it, their own faults (in the case of Percy and Apollo, both have terrible self esteem and are always expecting the worst to happen, which lead them to jump into conclusions waaaay to fast).

7. The “damsel in distress” or “just the mom” character usually carries a lot of “why is this female characters who’s obvious in a vulnerable situation don’t get out” that comes from a misogynistic point of view. It’s always the double standard: male characters are manipulated, female characters take dumb decisions, male characters are, among other things, fathers, female characters are mothers, sisters and/or lovers.

So like, I try being truthful to the character because IK this sort of interpretation will exist either way. Ik that Percy, despite being in that state, isn’t reduced to none of those. While she may be way to believing of Gaea, she doesn’t jump into the conclusion Orion and Medea are good people just because Gaea had them on their side. She’s in a place where she have to deal with the circumstances that she had, not with the circumstances that were ideal. From her standpoint, she doesn’t have any other allies.

And yeah, her main focus right now are her three sons, but is she meant to say “yup, not my problem” when they get kidnapped? Like, in canon, Percy was ready to die for his friends and etc. fem Percy too, and now she’s ready to die for her sons. It’s a very male Kronides x Female kronides situation. Demeter? Obsessive, awful mom who wouldn’t let Persephone do anything. Hades? Well, he was in love. Hera? Crazy women. Zeus? Oh, he’s just a man of his time.

So like, maybe some people think she’s falling into mom or damsel in distress trope? Maybe. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I just enjoy my time writing, because it’s not as if any of those people are paying me to write the character arc THEY want to see.

Btw, thanks for this ask. Hopefully it made sense, because I know I tend to talk a little more than necessary 😆

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 4 - Too Much Green

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Chapter 4 doing what it always does in my writing. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Fame < Infamy by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 12.3k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky has a talk with Sam, and you adapt. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Read on A03!

Bucky didn’t know who decided Sam should be allowed to have an office, but he needed to have very firm, loud words with them.

Steve had never gotten an office, and he’d been perfectly fine. Sam barely even used the office. He kept it because he liked saying my office with a smug expression, and making Bucky sit in the waiting room like this was a doctor’s appointment and not a serious, time sensitive meeting. 

Because the sun was going to rise soon, and Bucky wouldn’t be following Her to work. He’d go back to his apartment, and do flat, mundane things to fill his time. Sam would find someone else to trail Her around, and She’d probably make their lives living hell, and they’d stick around because they knew how to do that.

Bucky had warned Sam he wasn’t made for this. That he’d literally been designed to hunt and kill, not shield and protect and care for. This was how it would’ve ended anyway, but he’d hoped—just for the sake of his own, fragile anger and resolve—that it would’ve crumbled because She caved. Because Bucky would’ve been right. But he hadn’t even lasted three weeks before everything had fallen apart, and She’d shot him in the gut like a sick dog. 

He’d shot himself in the gut. He’d been the paranoid asshole, and She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. Bucky didn’t have enough will to push it, and he didn’t have the strength to push Her. She was… stronger than he’d expected. And he could still see Her shaking slightly, still hear the fury in Her voice echoing off the vacant, blank walls of his apartment. 

It wasn’t guilt or shame, burning and crawling over his skin. It couldn’t be. He had nothing to be guilty of, because he’d been doing his job. Checking all the vulnerabilities. Making sure everything was in its proper place, including Her. It didn’t get to matter than She was beautiful and smart and bursting with a wrath that seemed bigger than the world. It mattered that She’d been lying, and hiding things. 

Things that didn’t seem that important now, when he’d been so goddamn wrong, and the image of Her in the office—in the dark, burning up from within in a way Bucky could see—seemed to be branding itself onto his brain.

Things that really didn’t have to matter to him at all anymore, because Bucky was done. He’d gotten out of it. He wouldn’t be breaking his word to Sam—She’d kicked him out, he hadn’t just abandoned his post—and he could just keep going through the motions until things, slowly, became better again.

And this would be fast. He’d tell Sam that the little arrangement had been a disaster—he’d throw in a I told you so, just to really sell it and bury down how he still felt Her teeth marks over his lungs—and go home. Maybe go to the grocery store. He’d never have to step foot in that godawful Subway again, or pretend he couldn’t see all those old, skin-sagging assholes scanning over Her body as she moved, because that wouldn’t be his business. He’d hear Her name in passing in the future and think nothing of it. Sam might mention one day that they’d worked out the Hydra thing, and Bucky would shrug because it wouldn’t be his fucking problem. 

He definitely wouldn’t check, because he’d have other, more important things to do.

He couldn’t think of any right now, but he would. He’d find some. 

That was how this whole getting better thing was supposed to work, and Sam was always on his ass about it anyway, so really this was an improvement for everyone. Sam got to find someone who would actually be good at watching Her. She’d probably have a lot of free time on Her hands, now that She wasn’t putting an impossible amount of effort into making Bucky go insane. Bucky would… Maybe he’d take another online college course. He’d heard Her say a lot of big, weird words and phrases that couldn’t possibly be real while he’d stood guard at Her door. There was probably an English class or something, and he could learn a bigger word that She didn’t know, just so he could throw it in Her pretty, annoying face-

He wasn’t going to see Her again. He didn’t know why his brain kept acting like he’d walk behind Her to the subway in the morning—he’d almost walked to Sam’s office instead of using his motorcycle, as if he’d been ready to go to Her apartment after—because he wouldn’t. He was free.

He kept seeing Her eyes, staring at him in an imprinted, faded picture in his head—full of that thing, narrowed in anger and unblinking, like She could shred him apart with a thought—but he’d never have to hold Her glare again. 

Everything would go back to normal.

The clock in Sam’s waiting room kept ticking. On and on, taunting Bucky and making his hands fist in his lap. He hated that sound. It pushed itself deeper and deeper and deeper into his brain, and it was like the click of a safety on a gun, or the tap of a doctor’s pen against their paper as they watched him. Observed him. Looked into him and saw the Solider and nothing more, figured out how to grab his anger by the throat and pull it to the surface, until angry was all Bucky could manage to be-

Something snapped through the air, and when Bucky looked down, he’d broken his water bottle. 

Sam had given him that water bottle. Something about hydration being important for robots too. 

Now Bucky was going to have to tell Sam two bad things. And they only had two damn hours until someone had to walk Her to work, because Bucky wasn’t going to but if the Hydra threat was real, She shouldn’t be allowed to just wander the Subway alone. She could be scary—unreasonably so, a little like a bird morphing into a dragon without warning—but Hydra wouldn’t care.

If they knew who She was, the dumb little disguises of sunglasses and baseball caps wouldn’t work, and Bucky didn’t trust Her not to do something stupid like put in earbuds so She couldn’t hear anyone coming. 

She listened to Her music too loud, all the time. It was another thing in his log, that Sam should tell Her to stop doing that, because it was a health hazard, and if She got kidnapped because of it, that would be really fucking annoying. Sam would get all angry, and they’d have to deal with all the assholes at Stark Industries for capturing their princess, and Bucky would probably have to save Her, and she wouldn’t even say thank you because She hated him-

His pants were wet. Cold and sticking to his skin, because he hadn’t stopped squeezing the broken water bottle, and the clock was still ticking, and Sam still wasn’t opening the goddamn door-

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. It was 3am on a Monday, and Sam’s office has very ugly, gray carpets. He liked that he’d been able to ride his motorcycle here. He disliked the little cactus Sam had put in the corner of the room, because it felt like it was taunting him. He needed Sam to open the door now, before he broke the clock and the crushed the cactus. He wanted this to all be done with, so he could go back to a routine that didn’t make him want to jump off a building and drag Her down with him.

“Buck?”

Bucky’s head turned to see Sam frowning at him from in front of the elevator, a soft ding ringing through the air as the doors closed behind them.

Sam hadn’t even been here. Bucky could’ve just broken into his apartment.

That was annoying. 

“Man, it’s two in the morning, what are you doing here?”

“Three in the morning.” Bucky grunted, pushing to his feet, and Sam just rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, and that’s such a big difference-“

“Sam.” Bucky crossed his arms, keeping his voice as flat as possible. “We need to talk.”

Sam only raised his brows. “Do we?”

“Yes.”

“If this is about what I think it is,” Sam moved past Bucky, opening his office door with a shrug. “I don’t think we do need to talk. I think you should be headin’ home, Buck, before-“

Sam said Her name, Bucky felt a muscle in his jaw tick, and he cut Sam off before this dragged on longer than it needed to. This should be quick. Bucky should be home—alone and bored and back to routine—before the sun was up.

“I’m not doing that anymore.”

Sam stopped in his steps, running a hand over his face as he turned to Bucky with a glare.

“Bucky, you promised me you wouldn’t fuckin’ quit on this-“

“I didn’t quit.” He snapped. “I got fired.”

“Fired? Nobody can fire you, man, that’s not how this-“

Bucky said Her name, and it sounded a little smoother off his tongue this time. But now it was bitter, laced with a memory of Her spitting at him with cold hatred that he’d really, truly earned. “She fired me.” Bucky muttered, forcing himself to hold Sam’s gaze. “Said she’d do the lockdown, but I don’t believe her, so I’d send someone to make sure she’s-“

“Bucky.” Sam’s voice wad low. Firm. Serious. That couldn’t be good. “What’d you do.”

“Why do you always assume I did something-“

“Cause you usually do something! What did you do-“

She’d told Bucky he could lie. Tell Sam She was impossible to work with, or had thrown a stapler at him. 

It was an incredibly specific example. It would probably work just fine. 

Bucky couldn’t manage to say it. He’d been the asshole. He’d crossed a line, and part of recovery was supposed to be telling the truth. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but he also tried to let a poorly crafted story fall out of his mouth, only to stare at Sam as the words lodged in the throat.

Lying had always made his gut twist just a little. A little voice that sounded like Steve would always whisper that good men didn’t lie.

Bucky wasn’t a good man.

And that just made this so much fucking harder.

“Bucky.” Sam grunted, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t start talking now, and I’m gonna call her in so we can all have a chat together.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “So she’s allowed to be up at three-“

“She’s up at three anyway. And she’s not waiting for me in my office like a stalker-“

“I am not a stalker-“

“You’re lookin’ at me like one. Just-“ Sam sighed, shaking his head slightly. “Spit out whatever you did, man, I’m sure it ain’t that bad-“

“I broke into her office.” Bucky grunted, the challenge of not that bad somehow spurring the truth out of him in a second. “She caught me. I got fired.”

Sam blinked at him. “You- is breaking into offices a full time job for you now or somethin’?”

Bucky scowled. “No. And I didn’t break into your office, Sam, I was in the waiting room-“

“You were the only asshole in the damn building, I’m counting it. And that’s not the point, Bucky, what the fuck were you doin’-“

“Thought she might be Hydra.” He muttered, his words pushed through his teeth. “Was looking for evidence.”

“Evidence.” Sam repeated, his voice low and taut, and Bucky nodded.

“Desk seemed like a good place to find it.”

“And did you?”

Bucky blinked at that. He’d expected the yelling to a start here. “Uh-“

“You find the evidence that she’s Hydra, Bucky?” Sam’s voice was too flat. Bucky was pretty sure this wasn’t a real question. “Find her red ledger, the big file readin’ I’m Hydra?”

He actually had looked for that. 

Sam didn’t seem genuinely interesting in hearing about it, though.

“No.” Bucky muttered. “Like I said, she caught me and tossed me out-“

“You tell her you thought she was Hydra?”

Bucky managed to hold Sam’s firm, unwavering gaze, to shrug like this was nothing, and ignore the turn of his stomach as the vision of Her—almost feral in the dark—flared in his mind.

“Maybe, yeah.”

“Jesus Christ, Bucky.” Sam ran a hand over his face, and he wasn’t angry. Bucky had seen Sam angry before. 

This felt more like disappointed. And that was louder in Bucky’s brain. Heavier. A weight on his chest that he had fucked this up, that Sam obviously did care about Her, that She’d probably—somehow—earned it more than Bucky had, and people liked Her when nobody liked Bucky, so of course Sam was disappointed. Bucky had been tasked with watching some sort of fucked up, insufferable, living goddess and he’d let his goddamn emotions and paranoia and how something about her just seemed impossible—too something, too beautiful, or loud, or angry, or smart, or likable—get in the way.

“You’re gonna need to apologize to her.” Sam snapped, moving to stand behind his desk. “Get her some flowers. Pick them, don’t buy them. She’ll know the difference.“

Bucky gaped at him. “Why the hell would I get her flowers, Sam, I-“

“Because it’s part of the apology, dumbass. You fucked up, you say I’m sorry, and we all move on.”

“Did you not hear me?“ Bucky braced his arms on the desk, narrowing his eyes. “She fired me. You’re gonna have to find someone else-“

“You promised.” Sam shrugged, and Bucky scoffed.

“I don’t think she cares about my promises.”

“And I don’t care if she fired you, Buck. I’m rehiring you, and you’ve got work in,” Sam glanced at his watch with a small frown. “An hour ‘till your girl is gonna be up. Get the flowers. Tell her you’re a paranoid old asshole, and you’re sorry, but she’s not dyin’ to Hydra so she’s stuck with you.”

“Sam.” Bucky hissed through his teeth. “She fired me. There are- You’re Captain America, you have other options that aren’t me-“

“Maybe I do,” Sam raised his chin, giving Bucky a firm, pointed glare. “And maybe I don’t give a shit about those other options, because I’m trustin’ you with this.”

“I told you-“

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a fit, you don’t wanna do this, she fired you, I don’t care.” Sam let out a long breath, dropping down in his chair and glancing over Bucky’s shoulder. “Lock the door.”

Bucky frowned. “I locked it when I came in-“

“Good.” Sam muttered, glancing around the room like he was checking for ghosts or bodies pushing out of the walls, listening to their conversation. “Look, Buck- It’s gotta be you. I don’t trust anyone else, and you’re a paranoid dickbag-“

“That’s fucking rude-“

“It’s true, Sargent Snooping in a Girl’s Desk.” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s frown deepened. She wasn’t a girl. She wasn’t even a woman. She was something a step above, that was made of the longer shadows of his bedroom and the worst fire that pushed up his throat. 

“I was being careful.” Bucky grunted, holding his ground. “We’ve been burned before, Sam, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do. But she isn’t a threat. I told you that, and-“ Sam cut himself off with a shake of his head. “That’s not the point of what I’m sayin’ Buck. This is- This might be big, man. Hydra- I got something.”

Bucky felt his whole body go rigid. 

He’d known Hydra never really died. They’d crumbled with SHEILD, when he’d been freed, but they’d been international. Huge. Even Bucky hadn’t been entirely sure just how deep they ran, but he’d known that they were out there. Weakened, but out there. 

Sam had said that like they were growing. 

Like this was more than just a threat.

“Sam,” Bucky muttered, keeping his words low and careful. “Say what the hell are you’re talking about.”

“When you were with them, you ever hear about somethin’ called Project Ouroboros?”

The Soldat scratched at the base of his skull. It would’ve been one of those memories, if Bucky did remember. The ones that were washed over and fogged with electricity, the Soldat programming buzzing and in control as Bucky just folded, fading into a ghost in his own mind. Not himself, and not seeing and hearing anything Hydra didn’t want him too, the whole world lined with a white-hot frost that kept most thoughts in a shattered stasis.

The fact the Soldat was stirring at all meant that Sam’s words meant something. But they all were in that fractured haze.

So Bucky shook his head. “No, not that I remember. But you know memory isn’t my strong suit, Sam-“

Sam rolled his eyes. “Shut up, man. Just thought I’d ask, cause it’s seemin’ like something Hydra woulda had Mr. Murder on.”

“You gonna tell me what it is, or am I just supposed to wait until it’s a problem-“

“It’s a problem now,” Sam sighed, and Bucky felt his fists clench. “The working theory is that, when Hydra was workin’ in SHIELD, they had some, uh, extra projects.” Sam said slowly, watching Bucky with a weary expression. He wasn’t afraid of Bucky—if Sam got credit for anything, it was that he’d never been afraid of Bucky—but he was cautious of his reaction. His words were too carefully chosen to not be.

Another really bad sign.

“Of course they had projects.” Bucky muttered, the knit of his brow starting to form a small headache. “They were 90% crazy mad scientists, Sam. Just say was Ouroboros is-“

“We’re not sure.” Sam said, rubbing at his jaw and effectively ignoring Bucky’s glare. “All the shit is redacted, and I’ve only found it buried under a million other projects, but it’s seemin’ like, maybe, they were makin’ something called the Leviathan. You-“

“Don’t ask me if I heard about it.”

“I wasn’t gonna-“

“Yeah, you goddamn were.”

Sam paused, and raised his brows. “Well, have you?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.“

Sam chuckled raising his arms in surrender. “Sometimes it’s too easy, man. Like candy from a baby-“

“Don’t give candy to babies.” Bucky snapped. “They don’t have teeth.”

Sam snorted. “You’re always just a bundle of fun, Buck-“

“The Leviathan.” Bucky grunted, because if he kept entraining this, they’d be here until noon. “You brought it up, Sam. Say what the hell it is.”

There was a long pause, and Sam let out a heavy breath as he glanced back to the door, dropped his voice, and gave Bucky an almost apologetic look.

“No smashin’ anything.”

“Sam-“

“All signs are, currently, pointing to Hydra making a doomsday device, and puttin’ it on standby ‘till they need it.”

Bucky felt like there was a plate of iron, crushing down on his chest. “A fucking doomsday device.”

Sam grimaced, his nod tight. “Yeah.”

Bucky ran a hand over his face. The iron was going to weigh down on his spine, bury him too deep in his own body. “If Hydra’s had a doomsday weapon, where the hell have they been hiding it?”

“Don’t know yet.” Sam muttered. “That’s part of the workin’ theory. All of this is- Right now, it’s hypothetical. Hydra may have finished the Leviathan, but there are almost no records that project Ouroboros was ever completed. It could just be scraps in a warehouse-“

“Or it could be a doomsday device.” Bucky hissed. “In fucking Hydra’s hands-“

“Not in their hands yet.” Sam shrugged. “That’s what we need to work out. Over two dozen previously dead Hydra projects have been uncovered in the past six years, Buck. If there is a Hydra doomsday weapon, they might not have had the manpower to use it during the blip, but they sure as shit have it now, and we need to find it before they do.”

“Then why are you still making me stick with babysitting.” Bucky raised his brows, drawing to his full height as he held Sam’s gaze. “If Hydra’s gaining ground, you need me in the field, Sam-“

“I’ve got guys in the field.” Sam didn’t balk, his words set. Firm. Unmovable. “I need you watching the civilian who’s gotten tangled up in this cause-“

“Cause?” Bucky jaw clenched, and an impossible amount of further strain entered his body. “You think she’s tangled in this, Sam? You think-“

“I don’t think you’re right, Bucky.” Sam said, voice flat. “You know you ain’t right. There are some- It’s complicated. Even she don’t know why they want her, but they want her, and that’s all we got to go on right now. Hydra’s wakin’ up, she’s the only thing we know they want, and I am not losing her just because you two can’t play nice.“

Bucky rolled his eyes, lowing his voice to under his breath. “She started it-“

“I know she did, that’s why I said you two.” Sam let out another long sigh. He’d been doing that a lot lately. “Bucky, I’ve told you, man. You’re the only one I trust here. If it helps you can think of it as protecting a package, I just need to not lose someone I care about to a bunch of fuckin’ nazi assholes. Okay?”

Bucky grunted, and it wouldn’t help to think of it as a package. He’d been trying to think of it as even less—just a mission or case to crack—but it kept just moving back to being Her. She was too loud, too attention demanding, too entirely consuming of Bucky’s brain for him to just pretend She was nothing. 

That might the most annoying thing about Her. How She might only be crude and taunting to Bucky, and he still may not believe that Her whole human goddess thing wasn’t an act, but he had yet to see a part of Her that didn’t draw the entire world in like She was made of something heavier than gravity. And Bucky was—tragically—still a part of that world. He wasn’t machine enough to be exempt from how She’d laugh, and it would be an almost musical, siren-like sound.

And She laughed a lot. That was another annoying thing about Her.

Pretending She was a package wasn’t an option, and if not because of the laugh, because he could still hear the venom in Her voice when she’d spat doll right back in his face like the word was a bullet. Package and doll seemed to fall into a similar category Bucky didn’t have a name for yet.

He didn’t want to think of Her as normal and human—it would make him picture Her curled up and pallid on that bathroom floor, force him to think about the bags under Her eyes that were somehow heavier than his—but package felt cruel.

It was almost 4am. She’d be up soon, and he needed to make a game plan to tell Her they were stuck together—Bucky had a feeling if he kept arguing, Sam would pull the part of your pardon card and mean it—in a way that didn’t get him hit with a stapler. 

“Bucky, I’m gonna need to hear an okay-“

“Okay.” He grunted. This was important to Sam, and would help fuck with Hydra. He just had to keep repeating that this was important to Sam and would fuck with Hydra, and he’d be able to handle it. “Sam?”

Sam raised his brows, and Bucky chose his words very carefully, starting with Her name. He needed to practice that one. It still sounded like a code.

“How long you known her?”

“Long.” Sam shrugged. “Met the kid when she was-“ He cut himself off with a frown. “In a weird place is the best way to put it, I think.”

Bucky kept his face neutral, adding weird place to his log. “Weird place?”

“Yeah. Complicated place. For a while.” Sam sighed. “Good she got in with Stark when she did. Even if it was Stark, better than...” 

Sam trailed off, shook his head again, and Bucky frowned. 

“Better than what?”

“Not my shit to say. I ain’t a snitch, Bucky-“

“I’m not asking to you to snitch-“

“Yeah, you are, and I’m more afraid of her than I am of you. She’ll kill me, you’ll just bitch and whine.” Sam gave him a pointed look. “You gotta stop fishing for information and do your damn job.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Stupid job.” He muttered under his breath, moving to the door. “Glad I crushed that damn water bottle-“

“You crushed what-“

“Get over it, Sam. You can have me guarding that fucking wolf of a girl, or I can keep that water bottle in one piece. You don’t get both.”

Bucky opened the door, and when he looked back Sam was watching him with a frown. 

“So you’re gonna watch her?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Bucky muttered, glancing at that goddamn clock on the wall.

The sun was almost up.

She’d be up with it. Probably—if Bucky had been reading the slump of Her shoulders and unreasonable amount of coffee and energy drink She consumed right—before it.

“See you later, Sam.”

“Try not to kill each other!” Sam called as Bucky closed the door. “Get the flowers!”

——————

The Boy is purring on your lap. It’s low and smooth and grounding.

You need it right now. You need the reminder that for at least the Boy, he can be alive and have it not hurt. That you’re not burning and destroying everything you touch, because the Boy is happy and content here. With you. 

It’s going to break your heart to move him, but you can see the frosted shapes of sunlight starting to break through the windows and dance over the floor. You’re going to need to be up soon, make a pot of coffee, and go to work. Because that’s what you do. You sit on the floor in a self-imposed exile from your bed, and then you light up for the Show and pretend the world isn’t eating you alive. 

But you can feel it. You can feel the pain of the long, long night—longer shadows and heavier air that no amount of coffee is going to be able to cure—and you can watch the light on the floor and know that it’s not shining on you.

If you moved your foot an inch to the side, it would. 

But that feels blasphemous. 

So you’ll stay here a little longer until you need to animate yourself, and pretend you feel nothing painful or impossible or irrational at all. 

Sam hasn’t called you to check in on the lockdown, so you’re going to go to the office. Maybe he’s assuming you’ll just go into lockdown, but Sam’s not that stupid—and he knows you too well to think you’d just roll over like a bitch—so he’s either put a new detail on you, of he’s had a moment of clarity and realized that you’re really not worth the resources to protect.

Maybe Barnes didn’t tell him at all, but you don’t really care. That sounds like a Barnes problem, not a you problem. 

You hope he didn’t tell Sam. 

You hope Sam finds out of his own, and Barnes gets his ass thrown off a building. You hope Sam waits until the last second to rescue him. 

Fucking Barnes.

You hadn’t intended on going to the office, but you’d forgotten some papers, and Happy never had to know. And there he’d been. Snooping and calling you Hydra, acting like you’d crawled out of the depths of hell instead of just faked your way into whatever type of cruel heaven this was.

You aren’t Hydra. You’re not keeping any Stark Industry secrets, because you’re just the sweet charity girl. The pretty face that offsets all the previous war crimes, that Pepper throws money at so you can turn it into something good.

And you do, and nobody looks at you any further because you’re not Hydra. You’re not important. 

Hydra will learn that, if they come for you. Barnes should’ve already known it from the start, but it seems you’d played your part too well, and he started to see shadows in you that weren’t there.

Because you do have secrets. Big, loud and haunting secrets that end you on the bathroom floor, watching the light leak into the room and swallowing down the bile on your tongue from another night that’s too lonely and dark. 

But they’re not the secrets Barnes thinks.

You’d lain in bed with the lamp on, before you ended up curled on the tile with your head tipped back against the wall. You repeated, over and over and over, that you didn’t need to call him. You’d be fine without him. You’ve been fine without him, and you can feel the bond start to fray once more, but it’s only a few more weeks. And they’ll hurt, and the time will be long and feel infinite, but you’ll just keep fucking going until you crash, or he comes home.

You’d been alone, and that was fine. You couldn’t open your eyes without little black spots dancing over your vision, but that was okay. Not normal, but okay, and there was an invisible, burning poker being driven into your skull but that didn’t matter, and you couldn’t breathe but no one can breathe when there’s molten iron being poured into their lungs.

You’d called him. You’d been alone, and there’s really never anything to prove—you could try and prove it to yourself, but doing things for yourself has never been effective—so you’d called him.

It had taken a few tries. He’d picked up of the seventh ring of the fourth call, and when you’d barely whispered that he needed to be home, and snapped that you should just stop whining. 

“I’m busy,” he’d drawled your name, and you’d swallowed. He was busy, he didn’t need you bothering him, and this wasn’t his pain. It was yours, and you should be able to handle and push through it yourself-

Something had felt like it was tearing and bubbling up your spine. You can’t keep going. You’re weak and inconvenient, but you need him. It makes you pathetic, but this is the one thing you can’t do alone. 

“I just- Please.” You’d whispered, hating your own voice. “I’ll do anything, please-“

“God, you’re-” He’d cut himself off a groan, and He’s refused before. Made you wait a little longer for some sort of lesson you never seem to learn. You might be doing that lockdown anyway, because you can’t fucking move-

“Plea-“

“Shut up. There’s a douchebag here, keeps telling people I’m a dick, and ‘impossible to work with’, and you know I’m not, honey, so I need you to make him stop.”

You’d swallowed, pressing your brow to the cool porcelain of the toilet. Your voice was a little softer when you spoke again. You could—kind of—think. “I can’t do that when I’m in New York. You know that-“

“Then you’re fucking useless!” He’d shouted your name, and you flinched, but barely. It was hard to move at all. “Just- Jesus, fine. Do the future thing.”

You hated the future thing. It was harder than he seemed to think it was. More complicated and clouded over your vision, because there was so much of it, but he only ever wanted to hear one future. The one you’d made the mistake of telling him about the first time, because you’d been a naïve little idiot who thought she could be safe.

And in a way, you were safe. You’d found that future—dull in the corner of the web—and told him about it, so the pain was alleviated. Washed back into nothing, your whole body settling as the bond forged itself back together. 

Now you had no excuse not to move. Not to stay here—on the cold floor with the Boy in your lap—for the rest of your useless life.

You need to make that coffee. Get on the subway and watch the graffiti blur past as you sit, and revel in sitting because fucking Barnes had always made you stand. 

Only two protestors today. One yelling about aliens, one claiming Iron Man never really died, and he’s being held captive by the government. Other than that, it’s an easy ride. You can listen to you music until you’re deaf and cross your legs under your body, spacing out because Barnes isn’t here the be annoying to, and whole day can be like this, if you’re lucky. 

You’re not. 

You step out of the elevator, into your office, and-

“Fucking-“ You let out a long breath, and the Show has to flip on. You need to be bored and amused and annoying, and nothing more or less. Barnes can’t see you, no more than he did when you shattered and cracked and showed him a little too deep. 

You’ve spent the weekend trying not to think about it. How you’d screamed at him like a child, and said too much. How he’d seen you—a little too much of the full, raw, bitter and angry and delicate you—and now there might not be going back. He’ll be able to see all the flaws in you, because he’ll know exactly where to look. What parts of the Show shine too bright to draw attention, and what parts shine too bright make people blinded. To force them to look away because there’s something real beneath it, and they’re not supposed to see it.

It hadn’t been something to worry about, when you’d thought you’d never see him again. 

It’s going to be a problem now. 

“I thought I fired you.” You raise your brows, your voice as dry and indifferent as you can manage, and Barnes shrugs.

“Looks like you don’t have the authority to fire me.”

You narrow your eyes. “I can ban you from my building.”

Barnes snorts. “Give it a shot. See how it goes. I’ll be right here ‘till you work that one out, and-“

“What about fired,” you drawl, angling your chin to hold his gaze. “Don’t you understand, James?If you’re not gone in thirty seconds, I’m calling security and making sure they send the old war drones-“

Grace clears her throat from her desk, and her apologetic expression looks a little too close to pity. “I- Um- Mr. Wilson called. He said to tell you that, if you try to kick Sargent Barnes out, he’ll tell Mr. Hogan you came in over the weekend again, then lock you in a room with Barnes until you both- ah-“ Grace swallows. “Grow the fucking hell up.”

You scowl, shooting Barnes a glare. “Did you tell Sam what you did?”

“Yep.” Barnes holds your gaze, a look on his face that you can’t read, but still want to punch off. “I’m not exactly allowed to leave you to fend for yourself, d- Kid. Deal with it.”

You feel your face twist into a sneer, your voice dropping to a hiss. “Deal with it?”

“That’s what I said.” He crosses his arms, jerking his head back to your office door. “You gonna go do your job? Or are we standing here all day like fucking idiots? Cause I can do either, sweetheart-“

You don’t let him finish before you’re storming past him, making the gamble that—if you’re fast enough and he’s still too absorbed in his taunting—you can slam the door in his face.

It doesn’t work. Barnes catches the door with his metal arm, and now there’s a fucking indent on the wood. 

You’re going to start crying. He can’t be allowed to see you cry. 

“Get out-“

“I’ll fix that,” he mutters, closing the door behind him with what seems like a slight amount of care. Likely a trick, or a measure to make sure nobody pays him any attention. “We need to talk.”

“We just talked.” You snap, dropping behind your desk without sparing him a glance. “I tried to fire you. It didn’t work. But if you’re going to be here, you’re not allowed in my office anymore-“

“That’s-“ Barnes lets out a long breath, running a hand over his face. “Fair. But it’s not happening.”

“You-“

“Listen. That,” he nods to your desk, something brimming on the edge of his expression that almost seems like an emotion. “Won’t happen again. You’re not Hydra.”

You snort, wrinkling your nose at him. “Oh, really, I wasn’t aware-“

“And I,” he lets out another breath, as if the words are an act of physical labor. “Should not have done that. I was being careful, but it was over the line.”

He pauses, like there’s supposed to be more but he can’t work out what it is, then closes his mouth. He’s looking at you like you’re suppressed to say something. 

You’re not even sure what the fuck is happening.

“Was that…” You trail off, scanning over Barnes’ braced stance with a frown. “Was that supposed to be an apology?”

“It was an apology.” He grunts, and you snort.

“Are you- Jesus Christ, dude, you are shit at this-“

He rolls his eyes. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“The traditional thing is say sorry, you old fuck-“

“Sorry.” He snaps, tone hot and mocking as he holds your glare. “Is that better?”

“Am I allowed to say it’s worse-“

“You can say whatever the hell you want, kid.” Barnes leans against the wall with another shrug. Sam couldn’t be that annoyed if you through your mug at his stupid face. He’s handsome enough that a scar really wouldn’t do that much harm- “What are we doing today?”

You scowl at your mug, turning it between your hands. You can’t throw it at his face. “Nothing.”

“Look, we’re stuck together, so if you want to be a fucking brat the whole time-“

“I’m being literal, dumbass.” You snap, watching the screen of your computer slowly blink on. “No meetings or field trips. It’s grant day, I’m doing a lot of reading.” You shoot him a too-sweet smile. “I’d ask you to help me, but I’m not sure you know how to read.”

Barnes’ eyes narrow. “You know I can read-“

“I don’t know anything.” You hum, looking back to the computer. “I was born twenty minutes ago. This is my first day on earth, ever.”

“Then how the fuck can you read-“

“Shut up.”

Barnes, shockingly, listens. He sits silently in the corner for the majority of the day, so unmoving that there are long moments where you forget he’s there. Sometimes he’s clear his throat, and you’ll glance up to find him staring right over your head.

He’s a strange man. It would be more amusing if you still didn’t want to cause him physically harm.

Because he won. The asshole didn’t even really try, and he won. You’d played better, and you’d been so far ahead, and you may have slipped a little when everything was dark and it was just you and Barnes in the whole world—his every word still hitting so deep in your body, grabbing and flaying a hot nerve nobody else has ever managed to find—but you still should’ve won. 

But you didn’t.

And now you’re stuck with him. Your alleged safety is more important than Barnes breaking into your office and calling you Hydra. You’re the same as you’ve always been, trapped. Contained. Too much to be trusted to watch and control yourself, and nobody—yourself included—sure how to handle you beside a leash and muzzle. 

Even when you stand and try to go to the bathroom, Barnes follows you. Like Hydra will be waiting to grab you from inside the toilet. 

“What are you doing.”

“My job.” He grunts. “Pretend I’m not here. Cry on the floor, vomit, I don’t give a shit, long as-“

You raise your hand, and he cuts himself off. You stare at each other for a second, and if this becomes a pattern—you tell Barnes to do something, and he listens with wide eyes and a confused expression—you’re going to need to figure it out and take advantage of it.

“I’m taking a shit.” You keep your voice flat, and get two blinks in return. “Wait outside, buddy.”

He stops the door with a hand, frowning down at you. “If you’re worried about having a panic attack in front of me, I’ve seen far, far fucking worse-“

You roll your eyes, and duck right under his arm. “If you need proof of my shit, I’ll hand you all my toilet paper when I’m done.”

Barnes grunts behind you. “That’s fucking disgusting-“

“I know. Wait.”

He listens, again. And when you get out of the bathroom, he’s looking at you. Right into you with an almost searing gaze, as if he’s trying to pry something like the truth from your body. To make you turn and fall to your knees and whine that he was right, that you’d spent all your time in the bathroom without him sobbing and taking ragged breaths.

And you need to gain something like a hold over that. He can’t just be allowed to keep seeing you. He has to taste something bitter in the back of his throat, to have his skin feel too tight just as yours always does. And you’re tired, and Barnes needs to stop looking at you, stop seeing you, and to fucking hurt like you do, if he insists on clawing his way into your head.

“They’re not panic attacks.” You mutter as you return to your desk, and Barnes frowns at you.

“I never said they were-“

“You were thinking it.”

He scoffs. “Didn’t know you were a mind-reader, sweetheart.”

“I’m not.” Something pulls and wraps around your spine. You’re good at ignoring it. “But you were.”

Barnes doesn’t say anything for a long minute, and when you look back up from your computer, he’s fucking staring at you again.

“What?” You snap, and he doesn’t flinch.

“Nothing.” He shrugs, face still painfully unreadable. “Not panic attacks, huh?”

You pull your lower lip between your teeth—biting back a sneer that Sam would say doesn’t help the situation—and look back to the computer. “No.”

“You just cryin’ in the bathroom for fun?”

Your fingers freeze on the keyboard, and you shoot him a glare. “What was my first rule, Sargent?”

“I’m not asking as your friend.” He gives you a pointed look. “I’m asking as your bodyguard.”

“How is that bodyguard information-“

“Just is.” He shrugs, giving you another expectant look, and you take a deep breath. 

Barnes is stuck here. He won. Sam would tell you not to push things for no reason. That being angry is valid, but it’s good practice to know when you’ve lost, and adapt.

You can adapt just fine.

You can be a compliant little animal from Barnes, and still piss all over his shoes.

“I have a…” Another long breath. This is so fucking stupid. “Chronic condition. It’s… idiopathic. Incurable. And if I don’t treat it, I get sick.”

You can see Barnes frown from the corner of your eye. “Idiopathic-“

“It means nobody knows what caused it-“

“I know what it means.” He snaps, something slightly edged in his voice. “What is it.”

“Chronic.”

“Yeah, I got that, what’s the condition-“

“Incurable.”

Barnes snaps your name, and you bite your cheek to stop a smirk. “You having fun?”

“I am.” You give him another sweet smile, and you think his glare might be branding over your ribs. “Thank you so much for asking.”

Two blinks. Nostril flare. “You’re not going to tell me the condition.”

“Nope.” You shrug. “You need to tell me a secret too, by the way.”

He frowns. “I- You didn’t tell me a secret-“

“Only five people know my condition even exists.” You give him a pointed look. “You just made it six. That’s the definition of a secret. Your turn.”

“I didn’t agree to those terms-“

“Well, I didn’t agree to this.” You gesture between yourself and Barnes on the couch, keeping your features bored. “We’re all making sacrifices, James. Tell me a secret.”

He doesn’t have to. You think he knows that, with how he’s watching you. Like you’ve fallen from space, and have started to spew pure fucking nonsense in his face. You’re out all your advantages. He’s already won, and you can’t make him say anything, so there’s literally no reason for Barnes to even acknowledge you-=

“I don’t like roller coasters.”

You stare at him, your mouth falling slightly open as he holds your gaze, and you try to put together what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?”

“Roller coasters.” He repeats, as if it will suddenly make more sense. “I hate ‘em. Always have. They’re loud, and rickety, usually pretty shit engineering, least in my day-“

“Everything was shit engineering in the forties, Barnes-“

“Yeah, Stark’s flyin’ car was kinda horrible-“

“And,” you push on, watching him carefully. “That isn’t a secret.”

“I’m getting to the secret,” he grumbles your name, leaning further back on the couch. As if he’s settling in. “You need to work on your damn patience.”

You start to sneer something at him—you’re not sure when you open your mouth, but you’re sure you’ll find it on the way—but Barnes cuts you off before you get the chance. 

“I hate rollercoasters, but Sam thinks I like them.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why-“

“Patience.” He drawls, and you could swear that was a smug, amused glint that flashed over his eyes. “Stevie needed to do somethin’ that fed his adrenaline and didn’t get him beat up, so I made him do all the roller coasters. He thought I liked ‘em, and he told Sam I liked them, and I’ve been living a lie for the past hundred years about likin’ rollercoasters.”

“Just…” You don’t know what’s happening, or why Barnes looks so comfortable, but your words are slow and careful as you hold his gaze. “Tell Sam you don’t like rollercoasters.”

“Nah. Not worth it.”

“It’s-“

“It’s not that important, sweetheart. I can deal with one or two, when Sam makes me. That an acceptable secret?”

He raises his brows, that’s definitely a look of amusement, and you don’t feel like you won this conversation. This seems, somehow, like Barnes got the upper hand again. 

He looks to human and talking, sprawled on your couch in more than grunts. No part of him is mechanical in a way that makes you tense. Even metal of his hand, glinting in the light, looks more alive than half the people you’ve seen on the subway.

He’s looking at you again. It sparks something in your bones that’s not good or bad, but foreign. And all you can do is shrug and turn back to your computer, mumbling out an agreement and trying to pretend he hasn’t successfully thrown you. 

People never throw you. You always adapt, and rationalize, and keep moving in a steady dance nobody else can ever keep up with.

But Barnes has been matching your steps. Every single thing he says and does pushes itself deep into your body, flying into the cavity of your chest and hitting a wired, soft thing that you can’t name, because it’s never been hit before.

But all week, Barnes keeps fucking hitting it. Matching  your dance in perfect pace, and the Show isn’t breaking, but it’s like he’s not even seeing it.

At every meeting, he sits with carefully slumped shoulders in the corner, looking between you and whatever suit you’re talking to, his expression back to the unreadable, stoic mask. 

“Is he- ah-“ One of the men—on the younger side, leaning at little too far across your desk as you discuss financing—glances over his shoulder at Barnes, tone and expression weary. “I don’t think we need him in here for this-“

You shrug, ripping at the corner of the paper under your hands. “If you can move him, he’s your to take home.”

The suit looks back to you with a frown. “I just want him out while we’re talking, sweetheart, I don’t want to take him home-“

“Good thing, then.” Barnes grunts, and the suit starts in his seat. “Cause there’s no way in hell you’re moving me.”

It takes an active effort to cover your gape before the suit looks back to you. He’s never spoken to the suits before. You’ve been certain he just spends the whole time trying to disappear into the wall or something. You don’t think you’ve heard him say more than a sentence to anyone but you, and that was because you pretty much made him.

“If he had moved you,” you ask after the suit leaves, testing exactly how far you can push it. “Would you have gone home with him?

“No.”

You give him a taunting smile. “And here I was, ready to charge people fifty dollars for the chance to win James Barnes and take him home-“

“Uh huh.” Barnes cuts you off with a flat expression, and he’s looking at you again. “You wouldn’t charge them. You’d let someone take me for free, kid, don’t lie.”

You wouldn’t have charged them. You wouldn’t have done that at all, not even as a joke. Partially because you don’t think anyone could move him, but mostly because if they did, taking him is a little too close to home for pressed down and suffocated memories in the corners of your brain. 

“Shut up.” You mutter, looking back to your computer. “Do you think if I put you out on the curb, someone will just pick you up? Or should I list you on eBay first? I’ll pay for shipping if you take my first-edition, reformed Winter Solider. Comes with a brand-new metal arm and he’ll watch you take a shit.”

There’s a long second of silence, and when you glance up, Barnes is frowning at you again, his brow drawn together and that same, odd emotion brimming over his expression.

“eBay is…” He pauses, never breaking your gaze. “Online marketplace.”

“Good job.” You hum, trying to make your smiling almost sickening. Full-lipped and mocking and saccharine, maybe enough to erode a little of his seemingly concrete will to not even blink at you anymore. “You want a sticker?”

His frown deepens. “What would I possibly use a sticker for.”

“Fun, James. Sorry- That’s this thing people do to experience joy-“

Barnes rolls his eyes. “I experience joy.”

“Sure. Is that setting just...” you raise your brows at him. “Off, right now?”

His jaw twitches, you fall back into your slowly well-tread pattern of silence, and you don’t like that it’s comfortable now. You keep really, truly forgetting that he’s there. You shouldn’t be forgetting that he’s there, not when he’s supposed to be a disruption. Something to avoid, not grow used to. 

But Barnes is stuck here. You’re stuck here. You keep trying to text Sam—to get him to look you in the eyes and tell you that he doesn’t care what Barnes does, you need his protection and that’s that—but the asshole won’t pick up, and you’re stuck with Barnes.

You can’t get used to him. One of the largest rules you have for yourself—Barnes or no Barnes—is the rule that you can never get used to something. The only things you know will be the same—all the time, no matter how everything changes around—are that you will be alone, and you will be you.

And you’ve been you with Barnes too much this past week. Sitting with him in your office. Having him follow you around like a shadow. Trading sharp words with him that are always a little too close to the truth, always trying to stay that pace ahead and faltering when he catches up to you with seemingly no effort, fucking looking at you and matching your every step with infuriating ease.

“Do you even eat?” You ask him on the Subway—a more empty morning than most—spinning off the pole as you give him a wide, teasing grin. “Or is it like, jet fuel? Gasoline? If I give you batteries, and you going to tell me you like triple A better than double?”

Barnes doesn’t even flinch, only glaring right over your head at the blurring Subway walls. He’s been doing that a lot lately. “I don’t use batteries. I run on natural fuel.”

You pause, watching him with wide eyes, and there’s a small tick of his lips. Up. Like a smile. 

“Was that a joke?” 

“Not my best bit.” He says, still not looking down to meet your gaze. “But yes.” His brow draws slightly, and then—as if he can’t help it—he adds, “I eat at home.”

You hum, continuing to swing off the pole. “You have a home?”

“Where do you think I go at night?”

“I think you stand outside my apartment like a weirdo. You always wear the same five things.”

He finally looks down at you, the small furrow in his brow deepening.

“I can’t do my laundry.” He grunts. “My washer needs coins, and I don’t fuckin’ have any.”

“Go to the bank, genius-“

“The bank doesn’t like me. Apparently being an international terrorist lowers your credit score.”

You tilt your head at him. “Weren’t you pardoned?”

“Doesn’t seem to matter.” He grumbles, still staring at you, and you shrug.

“Should matter. Being pardoned for any crime is supposed to revert your credit score back to what it was before your conviction.”

Barnes blinks at you. “Really?”

“No.” You spin around again “I made that up.”

“Why the fuck would you-“

“But you can get coins from like, arcades.” You ignore his glare and sharp words, fixing your eyes back on a dent in the subway car as you continue to spin. If you get dizzy and slam into Barnes, you’ll kill him and then yourself. “Or, if you give me fifty bucks, I’ll get you a hundred quarters.”

You can see Barnes in your periphery as you spin, and he’s looking at you like you’re a specimen again. “Your math is… disgustingly wrong.”

“That makes sense. I’m bad at it.”

He just grunts, still staring at you, so you push on.

“And I think you’re lying about having an apartment, by the way. I think you spend all night staring at my windows.”

Barnes snorts, and you keep spinning. “How the hell would I even know which ones are yours-“

“Some super-spy you are.” You throw him a wide smile as you turn, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m at the top.”

You point up—just in case he doesn’t know what top is, and because it’s funny to watch his eyes flick up on instinct as you spin past—and continue.

“I like to imagine you glaring up at me all night, thinking about different ways you’d like to kill me.”

He shrugs. There’s the weird fucking smile again. 

It’s the most off-putting thing you’ve seen yet. 

“I can do that from home, sweetheart.”

Your grin widens. You keep trying to look at him while you spin, and it’s a little dizzying. “So you do think about me-“

“You said you think about me first.” He drawls, his brow furrowing once again as he watches you. “Was that a joke?”

“What, that I think you want to kill me-“

“That you didn’t know I go home. You should’ve known I wasn’t out there, kid.”

You give him a flat look when you spin again. “I know I seem like I know everything, James, but usually I’m just making stuff up and I end up being right-“

“I got that.” He grunts, and you don’t love how he says it so quickly. “But you said you already have good security at your apartment. If you have good security, you should know who’s outside your building at all times.”

“I don’t own the building. Happy can see it, that’s all I need-“

“Happy has a job.” Barnes snaps. “And his security wasn’t strong enough to work out who the hell put that letter in your mailbox. If you don’t have real cameras and security, do-“ He cuts himself off, and before you can slow enough to get proper look at him, he’s grunting your name and moving on. “We need to talk about me adding some. Now.”

You hum, smiling at him again as you come around. “No.”

Barnes snaps your name again. “I’m being serious-“

“So am I. My apartment doesn’t need an upgrade.”

You don’t need Barnes snooping around your apartment. Your office was enough, and you have no interest in him looking around your living room and somehow putting together that you sit on your couch once every month, and spend time on your bathroom floor at home as well.

He doesn’t seem to be giving up that easy.

“It’s for your safety-“

“And I’m fine-“

“You won’t be if Hydra breaks into your apartment,” he hisses, and you don’t stop spinning. Your head feels a little light, and your heart moves to your throat at the thought. 

You can’t let him see that.

“I think I could reason with them.” You say, keeping your voice dry. “I think we could bond over our shared love of octopi. Did you know that their mouths are also their asses-“

Barnes grunts your name. You think he might be practicing it, because it sounds better every time. “That’s not funny. They’d kill you.”

You open your mouth to say something that probably would’ve been smart, but your fingers slip on the pole, and you slam into something warm and firm.

Barnes.

Barnes caught you.

He’s staring at you as he puts you on your feet, and you can’t stop grabbing his arm because the world is still moving in waves and circles, and this is so fucking annoying-

“Think about it.” He grunts, and you shoot him a glare.

“I said n-“

You squeak as Barnes loosens his grip ever so slightly, and lets you fucking fall a foot down before hauling you back up, a stupid, smug look on his face.

“What was that?” He raises his brows, your nails dig into his arm, and you’re certain it’s the one with skin, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“I hate you.”

“Uh huh. You gonna answer me?” His smirk returns, and your glare deepens.

“I’m going to push you onto the train tracks-“

“I’m sure you are, Sweetheart. Answer.”

He’s not wavering. You’re still a little dazed from slipping and falling, and you haven’t really touched anyone that didn’t feel like they were a danger in… a frightening amount of time. 

That’s what you blame, when you mutter, “I’ll think about it.”

Barnes grins again. 

You feel like you’re losing your mind.

And when he picks you up the next day, he has a backpack. You’ve never seen him have anything but his jacket and gloves.

It’s weird. You spend most of the crowded subway ride—Barnes rigid with a clenched jaw at your side—staring at it, trying to figure out what the hell is inside. When you walk through security you even fall a pace back to stand at his side, hoping to see when they open it, but your dumb, frightened guards mutter Sargent Barnes and let him past without question, only wincing when the metal detector blares at his arm. 

“When did you get friendly with my security guards?” You ask in the elevator, and Barnes shrugs.

“They know Sam. Respect him, enough to trust me.” He glares at the elevator doors. “And they’re smart enough to be afraid of me.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Alright, you old fucking Emo, I’ve seen scarier pigeons than you, so let’s calm down.”

“Emo, like the bird?“

“No, it’s like-“ You sigh. “It’s a subculture, you can google it. I’m saying it to mean you’re being dramatic.”

He shoots you an odd look. “I am not being dramatic-“

“Yeah, you are. What’s in the bag?”

Barnes doesn’t answer, only moving forward to hold the elevator doors as they ding open, and staring at you until you roll your eyes and step ahead of him.

You don’t get to know what’s in the bag until lunch. It sits at his side on the couch, and whenever you glance up to see if he’s opened it and you somehow hadn’t noticed, he’s staring at you.

And when it’s finally unzipped, he pulls out a thermos. A little, hot pink thermos and single plastic spoon that he holds between his teeth as he twists the thermos open.

“Stop staring.” He mutters your name, muffled through the spoon, and shoots you a glare. “I’ve heard it’s rude.”

You just raise your brows, looking between him and the thermos with a pointed expression. “What’s happening here?”

“Lunch.” He grunts, scooping what seems to be brown mush onto the spoon. “That a problem?”

“No, I just-“ There are too many questions. Too many possible things to say, too many angles to attack this from, and Barnes isn’t helping. He’s looking at you with a slight smirk, as if he’d somehow known this would fuck with you more than it should. 

Because it really shouldn’t be fucking with you. It’s just a thermos. A hot pink thermos. Barnes’ hot pink thermos, that he’s keeping brown mush in. Brown mush he’s eat with a plastic spoon, because it’s his lunch, a day after you made fun of him for not eating-

“You all good, kid?”

“Uh, yeah.” You meet his gaze once more, your words careful and slow. “Is there… anything else in the backpack?”

“No.”

“And what is lunch, exactly?”

“Oatmeal.”

You gape at him. “With like, sugar and honey? Marshmallows? ”

Barnes makes a tight face of what’s likely disgust. “Why the hell would I put that shit in oatmeal.”

“I-“ You let out a long breath, and force your gaze back to your computer. Too many things. Not enough time. 

You have a job. Your priority cannot be Barnes, and his borderline depressing eating habits. 

The weekend comes and goes—you hole up in your apartment, make no progress on your own Hydra research, and the pain begins to ebb and wax once more the longer you’re alone, every night somehow longer and the sun never leaking into the bathroom soon enough—and Barnes is still using his dumb little thermos as the next week begins to pass.

It’s almost like a ritual. He opens the backpack at the same time every day—you don’t even think he has a clock—and frowns with a plastic spoon between his teeth, twisting off the thermos top in half a second before eating his oatmeal. 

It’s driving you insane. It’s feels like another game that he’s winning, another part of the Show that he’s somehow cracking past without effort, and you don’t even know why. It’s oatmeal. Sad, pathetic oatmeal that he eats like it’s a chore. He’s built like a truck and he’s eating oatmeal. He’s been alive a hundred years, and somehow the only thing he can think to eat is oatmeal. 

Even on days that you go out for meetings—walking around a Stark funded museum, pretending you’re listening to the finance reports when really you just like looking at the art—Barnes still eats his oatmeal, at the exact same time as, apparently, always.

“I can do the apartment security this weekend,” he grunts in your ear a little while after, walking one pace behind you through the gallery, and you shrug.

“I never agreed to that. And maybe I’m busy-“

“You’re not.”

This time, you shoot him a glare over your shoulder. “You don’t know that-“

“I do. Sam told me you’re not exactly social, and unless you’ve been lying to me about staying home for the past three weeks-“

“Shut up.” You mutter, and you could swear you hear Barnes make a sound that’s dangerously close to a chuckle. “Sam’s a fucking snitch-“

“Was he wrong?”

“I said shut up.” You run a hand through your hair, keeping your gaze focused on the floor as you walk. “You never apologized, you know.”

You can hear the frown in Barnes’ voice. You’re back on steady footing. “For-“

“Breaking into my office. Maybe I don’t want you in my apartment because you broke into my fucking office, and then never apologized.”

“I said it wouldn’t happen again.”

“That’s not an apology-“

“Do you want an apology that I wouldn’t mean?” 

That makes your steps pause slightly, and you glance back to see Barnes looking right over your head. “What?”

“I’m not sorry. I could’ve…” He pauses, frowning at the air. “Handled it better, but I was taking precautions.”

“Precautions-“

“You’re too smart to want a fake apology, sweetheart.”

Barnes finally looks down, a challenge buried in his gaze, and you scowl. Your heart is moving in your chest, and there’s something warm over your skin made of smart. 

You are smart. You fucking know that, and you don’t need Barnes to tell you, but people never- 

He doesn’t get to do that. Just because those words are close to a compliment, and you don’t ever really get those and believe them, but you believe Barnes—he doesn’t seem like a liar, just an asshole—doesn’t mean he gets to move you at all on how he’s not apologizing for fucking breaking into your office.

“Well,” you whip around, making sure Barnes can’t see how he managed to ram himself too deep past your defenses again. “You’re not forgiven.”

Barnes snorts behind you. “Didn’t think I would be-“

“Shut up.”

“Sam said to get you flowers.” He continues as if he never even heard you. “Seemed like overkill, but if it’ll get you to stop being so damn stubborn, trying to get yourself fucking kidnapped-“

“I don’t want flowers from you, James.” You shoot him another glare over your shoulder, and this time, he’s still looking at you. “But I’d forgive you with gummy sharks.”

Barnes blinks. “What the fuck are gummy sharks.”

You don’t answer—that’s another step forward in your favor, even if you aren’t even sure what your favor is any more—continuing on through the gallery, and the next day, Barnes is still eating his fucking oatmeal, and you’re going to lose your mind.

You snap at the end of the week. It’s the same bag. He always puts it in the same place. And there’s a reason scratching at the back of your head for why Barnes is eating like that, and it’s getting too raw and heavy, impossible to ignore. 

You want to throttle him. He’s eating his sad oatmeal, and now you have to message Grace to—when she goes out to get lunch—buy some sugar and honey. Brown sugar, and good honey. Maybe a honeycomb, because you’re paying.

If you can’t do the Show with Barnes—can’t annoy him into quitting—you can at least stop making him take up so much of your attention. You’re busy. You have things to do, you need to focus on what matters, and his habit of making the you you rear her head is a fucking problem.

You’re small and rabid, that’s not supposed to be visible like this—in full, clean daylight—and keep aching whenever the dumb thermos pops open. You know it’s because you can piece together why. Because you could be whipped and flayed and shredded to bit and you’d never be the most important thing in the room, so Barnes needs to stop doing this—stop making himself another thing you can pull a part of yourself out to help—so you can go back to ignores the pangs of your spine starting to burn once more. 

When Grace gets back from the deli, she passes the sugar and honey to you along with your lunch, a small frown on her face. You only grimace in return, and march over to Barnes the moment the door is closed.

“Put these,” you toss the sugar and honey into his face, and jerk your head to the oatmeal. “In there.”

He stares at you. “What-“

“Stop eating like you’re a solider and use some fucking sugar, dumbass.”

One blink. Nostril flare. “I don’t know what you’re-“

“Shut up.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly as you hold his gaze. “Do it.”

“What the hell is it to you what I put in my oatmeal-“

“If you do it.” You cut him off, because he doesn’t get to see more. Hit you further and deeper after he made you do something dumb like this. “I’ll fully forgive you for breaking into my office.”

He scans over you, his brow fully drawn, and you feel like a specimen again. 

That's fine. 

Anything to let you all just move on, and the annoyance of caring about Barnes end. 

It’s not caring about him. It’s about him, being a person eating sad oatmeal. 

But it’s still Barnes.

And that’s so fucking annoying.

“I don’t need you to forgive me,” he mutters, and you shrug.

“Well then, I don’t trust you in my apartment.”

He scowls. “How can I even know you’ve really forgiven me.” “I will. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” You snap, and Barnes gives you a flat look.

“You’ve lied twelve times today, for fun-“

“That doesn’t count, I owned up to it immediately. You want me to have security?”

Barnes’ jaw ticks, but he nods.

“Then use the fucking sugar, James. Deal?”

He doesn’t respond, and you let out a long breath. You tried. You failed, and that’s going linger under your skin, but you really fucking tried.

You go to move, but he catches your arm.

“You’ll forgive me.”

“That’s what I said, yeah-“

“Fine. Shake.” He holds out his hand. “If it’s a deal, we shake.”

“Are you fucking serious-“

“Deadly. Shake.”

You lose the staring contest. You shake Barnes’ hand, and you only realize after you return to your desk that it was the metal one. 

That feels important, but you can’t work out why.

Why doesn’t feel like it matters, though. You watch Barnes put his sugar and honey in the oatmeal, eat it, and then fail to disguise the fact that it tastes so much better the second the spoon is in his mouth.

You won. And the next morning, there are four things in the backpack. The thermos and spoon—molded into one thing in your mind—come out as always, before being joined by sugar, honey, and-

Barnes stands without warning, marches over your desk, and slams a small box of gummy sharks in front of you.

“We’re square.” He grunts, and you sigh.

“Are you asking me if we’re square, or telling me?”

He scowls, and lets out a long breath before grunting, “Askin’.”

He’s started to slur more words, his accent slipping out in small, odd ways. You don’t know what it means, but it’s been making your brain hum in a strange way, because it sounds nice. Objectively, he has a nice voice. And you did say you’d forgive him if he got you gummy sharks. 

You’ve backed yourself into a corner. 

And when you nod and pull the gummy sharks across your desk, Barnes stands a little taller. As if he’s proud.

It’s kind of adorable. And the lighting I n your office makes his jawline look sharper.

“You got to good kind,” you mumble, and he shurgs.

“Didn’t know there was a bad kind of gummy-“

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Obviously there’s a bad kind of gummy. We really need to start broadening your food horizons, James.“

He hums, and the small smirk pulls back at his lips. It looks too real.

It’s kind of dangerous.

“We?” he drawls your name, and you flush.

You haven’t flushed in years.

All you can think of is to flip him off, and stuff your mouth full of gummy sharks so you don’t have to respond. But when Barnes goes back to his couch, and eats his oatmeal, the only thing you can think of is how he said your name.

He said it like it was a name. Like it was you.

“You can call me Bucky.”

You blink at him, your words muffled by the sharks. “What?"

“If we’re square, you can call me Bucky.” He raises his brows, almost in a challenge you don’t understand. “Okay?”

You can’t tell if he’s asking again. You don’t know what he’s testing you on, but it seems important, and when you nod and swallow so fast it hurts your throat, he sits a little taller.

“Okay, Bucky.” It’s odd to say. Too easy. Snapping on the right syllabuses, and round in the right place, and knowable.

It’s too knowable.

And somehow, you fucking lost again. This is becoming a problem.

Bucky hums when your say his name, and you have forgiven him because why wouldn’t you. He said it wouldn’t happen again, and you believe him. He’s seeing you, but he’s not folding away, and he’s even been listening to you now.

And you’re not above a grudge, but you’re also not above anything at all.

Bucky doesn’t seem to be either. Nobody is. You forgive him because nobody is above anything, and Bucky might not have apologized, but he won’t pretend to either.

There’s no Show with him. It’s an odd, clear type of relief. Bucky just knows that whatever you are, he can see it, and then match it.

And that, as he settles back into the couch and grins at you again, is the most dangerous thing of all.

End Note: Old Man Bucky with his oatmeal I love him.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[morggard]

Which ocs do or may have large army of admirers in lore... asking for science

Sorry for the late answering I thought I might illustrate it, but ig text format it is;

First of all of course it's Kaíl, bro was literally a country leader, and before he became one, he was already more popular among people than the actual leader

He also had some of his most unhinged followers shaving their heads imitating his haircut; this haircut was banned in this country after he retired

Next one is obviously Igor, he wasn't successful as a singer back in the 1890-s, but when he came back after war and other stuff he had going on, he started gaining popularity somewhere around 1920-s as a composer and music producer and remained popular in 1940-s as well, bro was able to remain relevant for so long bc basically he was ahead of his time in all of his eras;

Not only he was popular because he was some genius musician but also bc despite of his mental problems bro somehow was able to create some alluring mysterious personality that attracted ppl so yeah he had a lot of admirers;

The girlies Dafne and Lotta, former members of Igor's music band also were popular pop stars comparable to Lana del Rey I think;

Kaíl's wife Adalind also had shit ton of fans of her work and admirers; Because of being popular she had a lot of problems figuring out her love life since every man who tried to get close to her wasn't interested in her as a woman but wanted her money or to be in her films;

Bertha had shit ton of men falling for her from her university years till basically her death in her 40-s, I think the second image is telling enough lmao;

She used to be an aggressive sad child, but started developing some wild outgoing personality somewhere in high school, lately she was kinda bitchy but friendly at the same time so it was easy for her to surround herself with some friends everywhere she was placed;

From my other settings I think Alexander had the most fans canonically cause he was a micro celebrity model and dancer in his 20-s, and even when he left this luxurious glam world and started working at the office he still was surrounded by ppl who wanted him;

In addition to his extremely friendly, chatty and flirtatious personality bro was also tall white and had a head full of hair in his late 30-s - early 40-s so ppl forgave him even when he did some Randy Marshall level cringe stuff lol

Idk why you needed to know this and you probably don't want to know anymore but yeah

[beatndog]

the leaders! a little synopsis for each of them below.

reedheart was a shoo-in. he was brave, charming, loyal, and most importantly, his clan adored him. so when the position opened up due to an unfortunate incident at sunningrocks, not a soul was surprised when hopstar chose him as deputy. and what a deputy he was! reedheart was playful with the kits, patient with the apprentices, and reverent towards the elders. he bantered with his fellow warriors, yet when battle called, he lead them without flinching.

reedheart was young. only 30 moons or so when he was chosen deputy, and still training his third apprentice. it was part of his charm, to be sure. but he simply could not have had the experience and wisdom of more senior warriors. this was a nonissue as deputy— all he really needed to do was designate patrols, train the apprentices, and serve his clan as he always had.

but hopstar was not long for this world when reedheart became deputy. she passed away a few short moons later, leaving reedheart— now reedstar— to pick up the mantle. reedstar felt almost blindsided. he always knew he might be leader, but it seemed so soon. under his confident façade, reedstar constantly doubts himself. his decision-making, his diplomacy, and most of all, his connection with starclan. reedstar’s life-giving ceremony was curt, and he seldom senses his ancestors’ approval in daily life. sometimes he wonders if they outright disapprove of his leadership.

luckily, reedstar’s mate and deputy frostwing is always by his side. frostwing’s cool head and analytical ability help reedstar where his intuition fails. the two spend hours patrolling thunderclan’s territory alone, talking of plans for the future. some critics of reedstar’s regime refer to her as froststar.

reedstar is determined to maintain thunderclan’s allegiance with shadowclan, despite beetlestar’s seeming disdain towards him. he also wants to strengthen relations with windclan, considering they’ve entered a period of relative prosperity.

reedstar is still young, his leadership short. only time will tell if he can lead thunderclan to greatness or fail when it relied most upon him.

-

beetlestar is as stoic as her predecessor, crowstar. but where crowstar was gracious and diplomatic, beetlestar always puts shadowclan first. during thunderclan’s disease epidemic, she was one of the warriors who protested crowstar’s decision to allow thunderclan cats to study under fogflight, fearing disease transmission and thunderclan espionage.

beetlestar never took a mate or kits; all her attention is focused on her clan. if she were ever one to joke (though some doubt she ever would), she’d say that shadowclan was her one true love.

in the winter moons, beetlestar rations food very tightly, making absolute certain elders and nursing queens eat first (and warriors sometimes not at all). she seldom starts fights, but always finishes them. though many shadowclan cats have their own opinions on beetlestar’s leadership, the only cat she really listens to is fogflight, the medicine cat. the two have always been close— beetlestar holds the molly in tremendously high regard.

as for the other clans, beetlestar varies in begrudging respect for the scrupulous toestar to contempt for the young and inexperienced reedstar. she fears riverclan’s newfound ambition under dewstar and is glad the two clans don’t share a border.

beetlestar only ever wants the best for shadowclan. she will pursue it by any means necessary.

-

dewstar is larger than life. literally. his parents were big and powerful, his siblings are big and powerful, and dewstar himself is a force to be reckoned with. but dewstar’s true gift isn’t his brawn. it’s his silver tongue. the tom has always promised his clanmates the world. even when he was a kit, he told them he’d one day be leader and elevate riverclan to a place of hegemony over the forest. “we’ll all be fat and happy,” he’d promise his clanmates. “you just wait and see.”

it doesn’t hurt that he came from a long line of outstanding warriors. his father would have been deputy, maybe even leader, had he not been so committed to his family. it was never in question that dewkit would be great; it was only a matter of how great he would be.

as riverclan’s elderly deputy ailed, dewfang’s twin sister and medicine cat coldsky recieved an omen in the form of a dewy leaf, despite it being the middle of a hot summer’s day. riverclan’s leader took it to mean that dewfang was indeed fit to be deputy.

the rest is history.

dewstar tends to regard the other clans as a homogenous mass of inferiors. they could never have what riverclan has. the traditions, the aspirations of riverclan simply dwarfs whatever the others may put forth. it is for this reason that the normally peaceful riverclan has began to encroach on both thunderclan and windclan territory. reedstar and toestar both quietly fear dewstar, and worry that his big talk may someday become actionable.

-

toestar (synopsis taken from here!) trained as a tunneler before becoming warrior, deputy and then leader. during her tenure, she’s reformed windclan traditions so that every apprentice had some background in tunneling and tunneling safety whether they were tunnelers or moor-runners. she also instituted more robust rules for tunneling, like making sure no cat ever went solo and never went into the tunnels when there was a chance of flooding.

toestar loves the tunnels. she treats it as an art form and something that made windclan special, but she also knows how dangerous they could be. some believe toestar is too careful, maybe even cowardly, but windclan hasn’t lost a soul to the tunnels since she instituted reforms.

toestar has also spent her life trying to bridge the gap between tunnelers and moor-runners. she sees both practices as two sides of the same coin, and believes windclan needs both skillsets in order to thrive. as an older warrior, she trained in moor-running so that she could eventually teach both specialties.

toestar has seen young warriors grow into fine leaders. she hopes reedstar will live up to expectations, and regards him with kindness and respect. though windclan is not so friendly with shadowclan or riverclan, toestar isn’t one to start fights. still, she fears that border disputes with riverclan may soon come to a head.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Mar 27, 2025

The University of Oxford is at it again. Somehow forgetting that its function is the pursuit and production of knowledge rather than ideological propagandising, its authorities have decided to modify the Latin passages of the degree ceremony to be gender-neutral. Bye bye, magistri (masters) and doctores (doctors); instead, graduates will be referred to as vos (you). One presumes this is to avoid causing offence to ‘non-binary’ students who happen to specialise in the classics.

On a purely theatrical basis, this stripping away of grandeur is disappointing. One of the most enjoyable aspects of matriculating at Oxford was that we had an excuse to dress up in black capes, and when I later graduated I was permitted to wear the flowing bright red garb of the doctor philosophiae. If I had climbed up to the top of the cupola of the Sheldonian Theatre on that day, I might have been mistaken for an activist from Fathers for Justice.

These anachronistic touches are surely part of the appeal of studying at Oxford. And although a slight modification to the Latin won’t harm anyone – let’s face it, barely anyone would have noticed – it does point to a deeper societal malaise. Like asking someone for one’s pronouns, it’s a little reminder that we are expected to truckle to this intolerant, regressive and identity-obsessed new state religion.

And let’s not forget that the entire notion of ‘non-binary’ is, for the most part, a status symbol for middle-class narcissists. Why should an 800-year-old ceremony be tweaked to satisfy the demands of these little Veruca Salts who wants the whole world to contort in accordance with their preferences? At the time of my graduation at Oxford I was a huge fan of Madonna, but I didn’t insist that the Vice-Chancellor intone: Modo virginis. Tum primum tactae.

Up until relatively recently, ‘coming out’ as ‘non-binary’ was a means by which uber-privileged celebrities could claim some degree of oppression. It was this generation’s most fashionable label, and was embraced by the likes of Same Smith and Demi Lovato. It was only marginally less ridiculous than Danni Minogue claiming she was ‘queer’ and then later clarifying that she wasn’t interested in women sexually, or Michaela Kennedy-Cuomo – daughter of the former governor of New York, Andrew Cuomo – announcing that she was ‘demisexual’. This is defined as someone who only feels sexually attracted to someone if they have an emotional bond, which means that Cuomo had effectively ‘come out’ as an old-fashioned heterosexual.

One cannot ‘come out’ as non-binary. The metaphor of ‘coming out’ is specifically related to the revelation of an innate characteristic that one has kept hidden due to societal disapproval. Up until the 1990s, coming out as gay involved a degree of personal risk; gay people were disowned, disinherited, fired, and sometime physically attacked or killed. Coming out as non-binary, a fashionable and celebrated identity, bears no such risks.

Moreover, homosexuality is a verifiably innate characteristic. It is remarkably easy to determine someone’s sexual orientation by scientific means, and to measure degrees of arousal on the basis of erotic stimuli. There is no apparatus in the world that could measure ‘gender identity’ any more than one could hope to measure where someone falls on the spectrum of mods to rockers. And yet we are expected to treat belief in this will-o’-the-wisp as the equivalent of an inherent sexual orientation or racial group. It’s remarkably insulting to minorities who have been persecuted throughout history.

For the sake of the literal-minded, I should point out that when I say that to be non-binary isn’t real, I do not mean to imply that people who call themselves non-binary do not exist. I am pointing out that identity is not the same as material reality; it is all about self-perception. The claim of being non-binary is not even synonymous with ‘intersex’ (not a third sex or evidence of a ‘spectrum’, but rather a developmental condition that results in sexual ambiguity in males and females).

The identity of ‘non-binary’ is based on the notion that one does not feel aligned with stereotypes of male or female. And so it amounts to a reinforcement of traditional ideals of maleness and femaleness. Rather than acknowledging that men and women can behave and dress as they like, to claim to be ‘non-binary’ implies that if men don’t behave like ‘real men’ and women don’t behave like ‘real women’, they are somewhere in between. It’s an oddly conservative form of rebellion.

This is why the Globe Theatre’s 2022 production of I, Joan, based on the life of Joan of Arc, was so reactionary. It presented Joan as ‘non-binary’ because she was powerful, courageous and wore men’s armour. For the woke, female strength and independence is not to be celebrated, but to be explained away. The same goes for the essay on Queen Elizabeth I that appeared around this time on the Globe’s website, referring to the monarch with ‘they/them’ pronouns on the basis that she rhetorically claimed to have ‘the heart and stomach of a king’.

So when former Coronation Street star Shobna Gulati last week claimed to be ‘non-binary’, she was not ‘coming out’; she was simply declaring her belief in a quasi-supernatural creed. Of course she is entitled to do that, but that doesn’t magically stop her from being a woman. But just as a friturier may announce his fealty to Ukobach, the demon in charge of frying souls in the underworld, there’s no reason for the rest of us to play along.

--

If this was the 90s, they'd be goths. If this was the 00s, they'd be emos.

I don't believe you're "non-binary" anymore than I believe that Xians are "covered by the blood of Jesus," or that Muhammad flew to heaven on a grotesque mutant donkey.

I don't believe in a biology-independent disembodied sexed essense "gender identity" anymore than I believe in an eternal Xian soul or Xenu and his thetans.

And I don't have to. That's what secularism means.

If your "identity" is invalidated by me not believing in it, then it was never real in the first place.

What I do believe is that nobody believes more strongly in enforcing narrow, rigid sex stereotypes than the people pretending they're breaking them.

[honeyshiddendesire]

Single Daddies

Author's Notes: These are my thoughts and opinions if you don't like it idk what to say but y'all are gonna hate me for Luffy's spot so just be warned lol 🤷‍♀️

Luffy - The Care Free One

🧸So I'ma get the worst out first BUTTTT if this man is a single dad I don't see him caring much sorry but being honest

🧸 If you leave this man to raise the baby alone then it becomes a straw hat baby not just Luffy's because everyone would need to chip in

🧸When the baby is super young and cluster feeds then sorry not sorry I can see him tiredly walking over to Sanji's room or Robin's to say something is wrong. Will hand off the baby and go back to sleep

🧸If the baby is hungry at night then he'll go to Sanji's room and say that him and the baby are both hungry lol what is supposed to be a night feeding turns into a whole meal time.

🧸When the baby needs baths it will make him want to clean up more lol totally the type of parent to skip using one of those mini tubs and just jump in holding the baby lol

🧸Will pick out toys him and the baby will both want to use

🧸I don't see him as a girl dad just saying I always picture him with an army of crazy boys. But for the sake of this lets just say he gets left alone with one boy.

🧸I don't see him being the serious type raising his kid cause despite him being an adult he's still a total goof troop buttttt that kid will have the most compassion for when someone is in need.

🧸I don't see Luffy taking care of the kid when it comes to like brushing their hair or teeth unless the kid is old enough to copy everything that he's doing

🧸If the kid is too young and needs that stuff to be done for them then I don't see Luffy doing it sorry sorry sorry I just see him as one of those dads that wont clock in till the kid is more functioning

🧸BUTTT that doesn't mean he won't be present I just see Nami and Robin doing it like they'll dress him but he picked out the outfit. He just doesn't like the trouble of fighting a toddler into their clothes

🧸Will totally play and rile his baby up alllllll damn day until the kid practically falls asleep on the deck then will sit there like "Awe ~they fell asleep~"

🧸Will through his baby the best parties though

🧸 Doesn't believe in bed times like the others lol or saving dessert till after dinner

🧸Just like the rest of the crew he will slingshot everywhere with his kid much to Nami and Robin's dismay

🧸Will totally get into trouble with his kid clinging to him and the usual goofy man would disappear in an instant and gets replaced with that serious Luffy that we all know and love

🧸It would notttt be pretty if someone decided to start shit with Luffy while he had his kid with him like literally all hell would break losse

🧸Ultimate blast of haki would knock out everyone in his path but he got some good genes so expect his kid to just tough it out with no issue

🧸Will run into Smoker one day and I could see the man totally ignore the pirate and his kid so they could escape, Smoker would deny it till the day he dies though

🧸 Would put his hat on his kid a whole bunch of times just to see them smile and giggle

🧸Honestly Luffy wouldn't notice a struggle of being a single dad with a crew as amazing as his, it's more than a crew it's a family

🧸So when his kid one day asks -

"Daddy? Where's my mommy? Don't I have a family?" Luffy would just laugh as he place his hat on his kid's little head, watching their tiny hands go to push it up out of their eyes. "What do you mean? We're all your family! Who needs one mom when you have two!" He'll cheerfully say as he goes and points at the two women. His kid would match his smile perfectly as he just carries on without a care in the world. Luffy would observe the way his kid runs around the deck jumping and laughing around and would just swell with pride.

"Yeah I definitely picked the best crew."

Zoro - The Always Matching One

🧸I picture Zoro's situation would be him with his girl for a bit before she finally tells him that she's done and that she's not taking the kid with her.

🧸 Zoro would be one of those dudes to be like "Fine fuck you, we don't need you anyways."

🧸We've all seen the babysitting episode lol so that man would be a great single dad but someone get him a bell cause not only will he get lost but now he dragged his damn child into the mix too.

🧸Sanji will have to pack him a lunch bag no matter what or where they are just because he is scared the mosshead would get lost and have his kid starve.

🧸Despite their usual animosity Zoro would totally get tips on how and what to feed the baby from him, since the kitchen is Sanji's domain he would spend a bit more time with him

🧸Zoro if he had a girl will totally put little ponytails in their hair and they would not be perfect at all lol they would be randomly placed but she would be obsessed with them

🧸If he has a son then he would give him the same hair cut as him, if his boy wants a fade then Zoro gets a fade. If his son wants a buzz cut then Zoro gets one too lol

🧸Will totally dress his kid just like him too lol Unlike Luffy who just grabs whatever looks cool or has fun designs lol Zoro would look at each shirt and top in deep thought lol

🧸"Hmmmm. We'll do black today." Zoro would mumble to his kid who just waits stoically on his bed

🧸Zoro would totally nap in the son with his kid until Chopper yells at him that he's exposing their delicate skin to too much direct sunlight and it would nearly give Zoro a heart attack thinking he's almost killing his kid

🧸Would only calm down till Robin and Chopper give him a long talk about the do's and don'ts of a baby's skin lol

🧸 For the sake of humor lates say his baby has eczema he would see that and think he gave his baby a sun rash from sleeping outside a lot lol would totally panic until Chopper finds him a special cream

🧸Zoro is gonna train his baby in the way of swords hands down lol

🧸 Would totally find his kid a matching bandana lol don't fight me on this he would want his kid to match him as much as possible lol

🧸Would scuff at his kid trying to weight lift with a one pound weight "HA! That's all you got kid? Weak!" He would tease making his kid laugh, "Shh daddy don't say that! I too small shhh!" His kid would say wagging their finger dramatically with an eye roll lol

🧸 Just like Luffy he would bathe more instead of using those mini tubs he would say fuck it and just take one with the baby because it would be easier that way (If this weirds you out please seek help!!!)

🧸TEACHES THAT BABY TO SWIM!!!! With all those devil fruit users he would be damned if he let his kid sail the sea without knowing how to swim

🧸His kid would have the same scowl as him no doubt

🧸Zoro would pretend to sleep most times but he's actually super nervous

🧸 Would constantly wonder if he's doing a good job

🧸Way more strict than Luffy but one little pout and the man is folding

🧸Can totally see Robin reading stories to his kid and him joining in to listen lol

🧸Would totally explain to his kid how their mother left them but it was okay because he has a bunch of family there on the ship

Sanji- The 'Uses His Kid To Flirt' One

🧸 His scenerio would be like something out of a movie. Waking up to a crying baby only to find a little bundle all wrapped up left in a box or a basket with a note that the baby was his and the mother was long gone and don't come looking for her.

🧸Yes Sanji would be devastated since he loved his mother and always pictured his child would have the same bond but oh well

🧸 Best single dad IDC lol

🧸Will keep that baby strapped to his chest everywhere he goes, won't need help changing or feeding the baby at all

🧸Will accept the ladies and others help thought but honestly I don't see him needing it

🧸Will panic whenever his kid seems even slightly sick

🧸Will read the baby bed time stories and besides Law, he would be the only one to set up a bedtime

🧸Will use one of those baby bathes and will always keep his kid squeaky clean with their hair prim and proper

🧸Sanji would make his baby the best little snack platters

🧸I already made him a girl dad headcanon so for this lets say he has a boy lol whewwwww would he get jealous

🧸His little boy would be way more smooth than him, and since his daddy can cook best believe he learned the skill too. So he would go over to Nami and Robin with little treats that he prepared like "Here you go, made special with love for the prettiest ladies that sail the sea~"

🧸Sanji would catch his baby sprawled up with the ladies wearing little sunglasses as they literally fawn all over him

🧸If he has a boy best believe little dude is wearing the finest suits right along with him lol

🧸Just like Zoro he would want to match his kid all the time lol but wouldn't match the hair lol he loves his long blonde hair too much

🧸Would totally take the time at some point to visit Zeff and introduce his kid formally. Zeff would treat that kid like gold lol

🧸I could totally see Zeff being one of those grandparents who are so laid back and if the kid spills something he'll be like oh that's alright and Sanji's eyes would nearly pop out cause when he was that age Zeff would practically chew him a new one lol

🧸Sanji would also explain everything to his kid about how their mother left, would've totally kept the note for the day they start asking questions

🧸Would totally be way easier for him to pick up chicks when he has a cute kid as a wingman/woman lol

🧸Would use his kid for everythinnngggg lol to get discounts shopping for food, to get dates, to get out of trouble with Nami and Robin lol literally everything

🧸Just like Zoro he's gonna teach his kid to swim lol there's only so many on the ship that can swim in the ocean so he has to make sure his kid will be safe

🧸Will also try to teach his kid to fight and defend themselves, he used to get bullied by his family so he wants his kid to be able to stand strong

🧸Will randomly wake up at night just to admire his kid

🧸Like Luffy throws amazing parties and cooks them the best cake they could ever eat

🧸Would always wonder if he did something wrong to his kids mother to make her want to miss such a special experience. Could totally see him blame himself until his kid looks at him one day and says he's the best daddy a kid could ever ask for

Law - The Strict One

🧸Best single dad even more than Sanji lol

🧸 Will do all his kids checkups and appointments, that kid would be the healthiest out of all of them lol

🧸Would have no problem with night feedings and changing diapers

🧸Honestly he could care less that the mother is out of the picture he would boss up and raise the baby regardless

🧸Law would cook such balanced meals for his kid lol that kid wouldn't even know what junk food is until someone gives them some behind Law's back lol

🧸Would keep that baby clean as a whistle but I don't see him being able to do hair, that man is a great surgeon but I feel like he would be useless doing hair lol

🧸Would totally buy his kid all types of colorful clothes and toys to help with their eye development. "Baby's need high contrast colors in their young age, it helps with development." He'll tell Bepo as he fills up a huge basket full of baby stuff lol

🧸Don't fight me on this I've said it in my girl Dad headcanons but he would get his kids doctor sets lol and a lab coat

🧸Will totally read to his child and teach them things way earlier than most, his baby is smart just like him lol

🧸His kid will have his smug attitude for sure lol

🧸I can see Law running into the straw hats with the baby strapped to his chest, his face as hard as he could possibly make it but would have to try not to blush when Nami and Robin just gush over his cute little baby (the baby looks just like him so them calling his kid cute is them low-key calling him cute lol somehow kill him before he dies of a heart attack lol)

🧸I can see Law having a very minimal love life even before his kid so now add his child he then well.. he has no love life at all lol

🧸Just like Sanji would use the power of his kid to get out of situations lol needs a discount on medical supplies? He's having his kid as the store clerk then lol "Excuse me ma'am could we have a bulk of your gauze for a 5% discount please I'm studying to be a doctor like my father." SUCCESS lol his kid would totally win over the store clerks heart lol

🧸Law doesn't have that much stamina when it comes to his powers so I can see him train wayyyy longer now that he has a child he never wants to be in a situation that his energy gets depleted

🧸Will shambles his kid instead of yelling down the halls of the polar Tang lol

🧸Will swap out random stuff using his d.f. powers because it makes his kid laugh for whatever reason lol

🧸I can see his kid finding a toy that looks like Bepo and Law will instantly get it for him lol

🧸Will catch his kid napping with Bepo, little kid all snuggled up to the soft man and he would have tons of pictures hidden in his wallet

🧸Will be one of those parents that makes time blocks for his kids activities lol like an hour of crafts, an hour of outside play, a 20 minute swimming lesson with Bepo and so on and so on lol

🧸Will definitely be strict "No ice cream until you've had your dinner I don't want to hear it."

🧸 Law would be one of those parents like Sanji to keep a box of his kids artwork lol even though they'll be too little and it'll just be a page of scribbles lol

🧸Will teach his kid how to use a sword just like him lol

🧸Will honestly be chill like Luffy when it comes to the whole mom thing because as a doctor he knows he can't choose what a person does with their life so he wouldn't give it much thought but would definitely explain the situation to his little one

@none-of-ur-business-fuck-off

[emoboybrony]

Thanks for the thorough response! (Honestly i wasnt expecting people to even read my long ass post) i love healthy fandom discourse and long debates over different interpretations. I find enjoyment from media by dissecting it and figuring out what makes it tick and you cant really do that without multiple views and interpretations.

I will admit my language in the orginal post was very over the top and purposeful shit posty in nature. Even if i did mean and still agree what i wrote i still could of put it alot more thoughtfully. So let me clarify i do see laurence as a character deserving of empathy. I think reducing him to a literal irredeemable monster is just as reductive as reducing him to a poor little baby who can do no wrong. Both make his character just inheritly unintresting to me.

But i will argue a couple of your points.

1. Aphmau "leading him on" doesnt really work as an argument because even if she made the first move, context clues are a thing. There is a point where, if we are to see laurence as an emotionally intelligent character, he needs to get the hint that they are not in the space to engage this way. Not only that, but a lack of concrete boundaries doesnt make his constant testing of them understandble to me, its a classic issue of "you need a yes, not just a lack of a no". Its inherently irresponsible to keep pushing without at least checking that it is accetable first.

(Also, side note because my friends just pointed this out to me, aphmau only kissed laurence because he was going on a murder spree and was trying to snap him out of it. That adds a whole new context to that scene which i will circle back to)

2. I have my own read and opinions of MCD Aarmau (made a whole spotify playlist about it with my friends) but in a nutshell, i dont view it as explicitly romantic. I read it as a senario where aphmau was so isolated from everything happening, and aaron (as a former lord) was the only one around who could truly relate and give advice about what she was going through. This could be seen as a happy ending or "better", if it werent for the fact that aaron proceeds to explode before they could really work through what was actually between them. Ignoring that this guy who she clearly had an intimate and trusting relationship with, a relationship she will now never get closure on. Leaving her with two children who will now be without a father. Not only that, but aaron kind of accidentally leaves her with a complex, how whole letter basically advises her to put her people first no matter what, which isnt great when shes clearly struggling under the weight of it all.

3. While it is easy to empathise and understand why laurence would feel hurt at the people he loves treating him like hes dangerous, its kinda hard to blame them when they are objectivly correct. Even if you want to argue its a self fulfilling prophesy, he is the one doing the fulfilling. It doesnt really matter how much of a bad time someones going through, as soon as you start punching walls its an act of abuse. You cant really blame people for treating it that way.

4. This is where it gets real tricky im gonna be honest. But it is an undeniable fact that, regardless of the context and explanations provided by the canon, the information is being delivered to an audience that lives in reality. A reality where patriarchy is a thing, and misogyny is a thing. Where people attempt to justify mens abuse and murder of women. "He had trauma" "she lead him on" "male loneliness epidemic" these are things that exsist in our real lives and are going to inform how we consume fiction. It is also going to have an effect on how artists write their fiction, intentionally or not. It is very hard for me to see these reasons and explanations for laurence's charcter and not immediately make connections to my real world experiences as an afab person perceived as a woman. Take the werewolf wedding, you could see that as aphmau blurring the lines sure, but you could also see it as a woman being in the cross fire of a mans violent outburst and having to choose between her bodily autonomy or her personal saftey. In my opinion, there is no way to seperate laurence's actions (or garroth's tbh) association with real world violence against women, because that is the context this fiction resides in. There is no way to not plainly see the correlation without employing some truly staggering cognitive dissonance or just pure distilled ignorance. In this way i could be biased, but imo its would irresponsible of me not make a mental note of it. (No accusations from me against anyone, dont get it twisted. This is more my personal philosophy when it comes to media consumption, not a standard i hold other people to)

Again thanks for responding! I honestly found your input really intresting to read. To add a lil note to point 2, i actually think your persective of aphmau withholding closure to her and laurence's realtionship (although i dont really agree) does add a fun tragic irony to the idea that aphmau never got closure on her attempt at a relationship. Ill definitely be putting that in my back pocket for future fics.

Ill admit ive never been that into laurence (any his variations really) but something has been really bothering me since rewatching parts of MCD.

What really caught my attention about MCD Laurence is that he starts out as this well adjusted, loyal knightly and charming guy- and then after he becomes a shadow knight you just see this slow decay of him. Like hes slowly losing parts of himself and its causing him to become more and more unstable to the point where by the end of season 2 hes honestly kind of terrfying.

And ALOT of that is reflected with how his relationship with aphmau starts to shift. He goes from this sweet, suave and honestly pretty silly personality, to being so obsessive and vindictive towards her.

Theres this one scene, at the end of ep 95 S2, where aphmau has just essentially seen a ghostly image of aaron and is really shaken up by it. Laurence comes to sit with her and ask her about it. And at first, it genuinely seems like hes just trying to get her to open up so he can support her. But then it quickly spirals into him demanding to know why she cares about aaron so much and why shes greiving so hard for him, like its a problem. He becomes so aggressive and condensending to the point where Garroth has to intervene and he walks off.

In this moment you see how far hes really fallen, he goes from semingly reasuring and gentle, and by the end of it hes disrepecting a dead man, who gave his life to save both his brother and supposed love of his life, who he travelled and fought along side with for months, who close to the end of his life was taking care of an orphan (something he comlimented in aphmau), and hes thowing all of that out the window because hes taken Aphmau's attention, due to the fact he fucking died.

After that happens, aphmau has a conversation woth vlyad where he basically tells her that laurence has to accept what he is and go to the nether or else hes gonna go insane, and that the only reason he came back is because hes "chasing a fantasy". Aphmau responds by suggesting they get cadenza over so that he can be with family, and vlyad says she can do what she wants but implies its pretty much inevitable that laurence is going to hit a breaking point. And hes completely right.

Before laurence even gets to speak to cadenza, he eavesdrops on the conversation where aphamu reveals shes pregnant, and just immediately peaces out, out of fear that hes going to MURDER HER.

Not to mention that in that conversation, cadenza herself tells aphmau not to tell laurence because shes scared of how he would react. He has gotten so unstable that his own sister, who loves him more than anything, can recognise that he is a danger to some degree and shes RIGHT.

All this paints a stark contrast, the laurence we first met vs the man he has now become. Its tragic because its this inevitable downfall brought on by an act that was completely selfless, him sacrificing himself that got him turned into a shadow knight in the first place.

Even this is eventually tainted, his selfless act becomes a selfish one as he seems to cling to aphmau's love and affection as an emotional crutch. Aphmau obviously loves and cares for him deeply, but not in an explicitly romantic/sexual way. And if she doesnt love him the way he wants, then why is he suffering through this? Why did he bother to sacrafice himself at all if theres no reward? Its honestly horrifying how pretty much everyone who loved and respected him, makes what should be incredibly out of place predictions on him, but they always end up being right except for aphmau. She cant accept that hes changing and theres nothing she or anyone else can do change that. Its gut wrenching.

This all lead me to beileve that i didnt give enough credit to his character. I love this. This is the type off tragic story telling im here for. Theres so much more to this character than i ever expected.

Heres the thing.

Why the fuck do laurence's biggest fans seem to just completely disregard this? If you believed a good portion of the fandom, laurence is just this sauve uwu sad boy who was unfairly rejected and ignored by a woman who demamded the world from him.

Im dead serious, i saw people saying that laurence "deserved better than aphmau", that he deserved someone who recognised the sacrafice he made. Which like- there is so much to unpack there.

First of all, aphmau did recognise his sacrafice, she did love him and try to support him in the best way she could, even when literally everyone around her was saying it was a lost cause. She did everything she could for that man and forgave so much of what he did while struggling with the calling and she got nothing but shit for it.

Second of all, no the fuck he doesnt?? As illustrated in the examples above he did not respect Aphmau's boundaries. He did not respect her feelings. And by the end, he didnt even respect her bodily autonomy. Lets be honest here, he basically abandoned everyone he apprantly "loved", because bro tapped it before he could. She loved him so much, but because he wanted something she wasnt willing or able to provide, that being explicitly romantic and sexual attention, he just didnt see it. To try and argue that hes the real victim here, is in the same vain of "nice guys finish last". Him being kind, compassionate and selfless- shouldnt be reliant on whether or not this woman will fuck him or not. That is an insanely misogynistic way of thinking.

But most important to me in the context of this analysis- what is there to like about laurence with this interpretation? What possibly sets him apart from the gazillion other brunette pretty anime bois? Am i to gay for this? Is there something im not seeing?

I understand fanon can wildly divert from canon, and i understand that alot of this is probably down to the fact that i find dissecting and critiquing canon more intresting than reinventing it through fanon. Im locked into the Baldurs gate 3 fandom and i had the same experience there (laurence fangirls got NOTHING on Astarion girlies). But both experiences have left me with the same question- what draws you to a character, when all you do is boil them down to their most generic aspects?

I find Laurence intresting cause we are seeing this man crash out and become a monster in real time. And i dont see how he is worth even an honourable mention, when you take that away.

What is there left to be compelled to?

[feroluce]

For reasons to be expanded upon at a later date (because I love the little bits about Boothill and possible paranoia/betrayal canon gives us so very dearly HNGH) I think Boothill like... He won't let himself fall into disrepair or anything of course, but he reeeeeeeeeeally does not like letting other people poke around at his body. It's a necessary evil to him. He does whatever maintenance and repairs he can himself. He started out with a massive knowledge deficit, simply because he didn't really have any exposure to that kind of technology until he left Aeragan-Epharshal, but he's taught himself a lot since then, he worked really hard at it!

Anyway, the point being, Boothill generally isn't super trusting of people.

But I think he would come to make an exception for Himeko, since he trusts Dan Heng a lot, and Himeko is one of Dan Heng's once-in-a-lifetime dearly beloved companions.

Himeko is so unflappable, I don't think she would even bat an eye about anything he throws at her, either. Like she enters the Parlor Car one morning (she's always the first one up) and Boothill is already there, waiting for her.

"Mornin', Madam Navigator."

"Good morning, Mr. Boothill."

And despite the fact that he blatantly broke into the Express (Pom-Pom is NOT happy about this JDKSAJDSKL), Boothill tips his hat, greets her politely, and is nothing but respectful when he says he has a favor to ask of her. Except it won't stay a favor long, of course- he has every intention of paying it back.

Himeko never agrees to things blindly, but she does bring up that all the knowledge Boothill contributed during the Charmony Festival was essential to preventing the universe from being pulled into Ena's Dream. And they were able to hold onto the Jade Abacus because Boothill used Tiernan's burial relic to summon the Galaxy Rangers instead. The Astral Express owes him a debt of gratitude, and besides, he's a friend of Dan Heng's. Of course she'll try to help him.

Boothill fidgets a bit, quickly brushes off the thanks, and tells Himeko he's having a problem with error codes. He keeps getting the same one, seemingly at random times, but the darn thing has no obvious cause. Dan Heng mentioned Himeko had been the one to rebuild the Astral Express. He knows it ain't the same, but it's not like he's askin' for any major repairs or nothin'. He was wonderin' if she could just take a look, maybe offer him some insight, since she seems to be somethin' of a mechanical wonder.

So Himeko walks him back to a another car, where she goes to tinker with machines without them crowding her bedroom. It's all neatly laid out and organized, and it only takes a second for Himeko to locate some specific device with a long cord. Instead of plugging it in herself, she holds the end of it out to him, like an offer rather than a demand, and Boothill visibly relaxes a bit. He still eyes it just a little warily for a second, but he accepts and plugs it into the port on his side.

Himeko pulls up the list of all recent errors, and they really are all the same. Boothill has had multiple temperature alarms over the past couple of weeks since the Charmony Festival, and they know it's not the environment, because Penacony is mostly dreamscape and kept mild year-round. The long-forgotten natural deserts are too far away.

Boothill is staring from the corner of his one good eye, so Himeko turns the hologram to let him see what she's doing easier. They don't appear to be false alarms. His internal temperature spikes and then slowly lowers again, high enough that if it lasted it would eventually cause damage.

One option is for her to start rooting through personal data, figuring out what he was doing at the time of each code, and tracing cause and correlation.

Instead, Himeko reads out the timestamps, and asks Boothill if he minds sharing what was happening around him when it occured.

Two weeks ago: He and Dan Heng went to explore Dreamflux Reef and found a bar- nice place, good atmosphere. Woman runnin’ it was a doll. Boothill left fer not even two minutes to get them drinks (Dan Heng knows like nothin’ about liquor, Madam Navigator, can you believe this guy) and when he came back, someone had already stolen his seat and was hittin’ on Dan Heng! Dan Heng didn't even care, just shooed ‘em off. Boothill laughed and said not to let him get in his way if he wanted to meet someone. Dan Heng looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why would he want to leave with someone else, when he came here to be with Boothill?

Twelve days ago: While laying low- er, just rustlin’ up some grub- in the Moment of Blue, Boothill passed Dan Heng with March and Caelus playin’ on the beach, buildin’ sandcastles and the like. When he passed by again almost two hours later, they were still out there, with Dan Heng pullin’ March through the water on her inner tube and Caelus hangin’ off the back of it. He swam so fast! You'd think he was part water snake or somethin’. He looked happier ‘n a cat in a sunbeam… He has a nice smile, doesn't he?

Eleven days ago: Boothill was killin’ time in Dreamflux Reef when he turned the corner down a shady alley and saw Dan Heng, surrounded by three men demandin’ “protection money.” None of ‘em stood a chance, they were all on the ground before Boothill even blinked! So cool! Boothill wants to see that spear of his closeup- Anyway, Dan Heng stepped on one of ‘em on his way out, hahaha! Boothill stepped on the same guy a second time as he hurried to catch up.

Eight days ago: Here on the Express, actually. Boothill had mentioned bein’ curious about the archives, and Dan Heng personally invited him.

(“I remember that day, I saw you in the hall.” “Was there any problem with the heating that day?” “No, none. I don't think the temperature has anything to do with these error codes. I have a different theory, keep going.” “If ya say so.”)

Boothill was fascinated by an entry on aeons, and from a single question he asked about Lan, the two of ‘em ended up talkin’ fer hours. About aeons and Paths and Emanators, Acheron and Self-Annihilators, the Sea of Nihility, Tiernan, the Nameless and the Galaxy Rangers, their burial relics and their customs. Dan Heng finally just started writin’ and editin’ the entries in real time, with Boothill pointin’ things out and tellin’ him what to add in. They were at it so late that Boothill ended up sleepin' on a couch in one of the cars.

He'd figured there had to be something to make Dan Heng chatty- he'd caught just a glimpse of it that first night they met, sittin’ at the bar in the Reverie together. He'll have to ask about the archives more often, if it gets him all revved up like that.

One week ago: After that night of energetic discussion, Dan Heng was apparently hyped up, because after he'd downed some of Himeko's coffee (“You had some too, right? What did you think of it?” “It was great, even better'n chewin’ bullets!” "Thank you! That was my newest brew, I can't wait for everyone else to try it.") he actually asked Boothill to go hunting with him. Boothill asked who their target was, and was surprised when Dan Heng pulled out photos that looked like they were from March's camera, of all things, instead of a bounty or wanted poster.

And as he sat there, studying these pictures, Dan Heng explained that he wanted to hunt down these specific memory zone memes to record them into the archives. Planets with so much memoria are a rarity, especially with the Stellaron's activity thrown into the mix, which has surely affected the local “wildlife.” He might not get another opportunity like this for a long time. And Boothill had talked last night about his extensive expertise in tracking and hunting, so he should have plenty to offer here, Dan Heng would like to learn from his experience and see how he does things!

And oh, Madam Navigator, by the time Dan Heng was done speakin', his eyes were practically sparklin'! Just lit up like the sun! Boothill could scarcely believe it! The two of them couldn't even wait another day, they set out that very morning. It had been a long, long while since Boothill had tracked someone- er, somethin’- without the intent to capture or kill. It was…actually really nice. Nostalgic, but in a good way. It might even have been his favorite day on Penacony…so…far…

Boothill trails off as a couple of realizations crash into him. All the temperature alarms he's spoken about thus far- they've all happened in the company of Dan Heng. And now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure even the ones he hasn't yet talked about were with him, too. Dan Heng has been responsible for all of his error codes, every. single. one.

The screen in front of Himeko suddenly refreshes to the top of the list, displaying a new notification for the current time. Alert! Core temperature above normal range.

Himeko's knowing smile is sly as a snake.

Wwwwwelp, would ya look at the time, Boothill has some errands to meet, people to run, y’know how it is, he should really get goin'-

“Oh, Mr. Boothill? About that favor.” And Boothill jolts to a stop in the doorway because fudge, he can't just leave without hearing her out. He'd given his word. He has no problem running out on someone he thinks deserves it, but Himeko really had been kind to him to try and help him out. Her voice is just as knowing as her smile, Boothill can't turn around to look at her, or else he knows he won't be able to disguise the sound of his cooling fans kicking on.

“Don't make Dan Heng wait too long, ok~?”

“Y-Yes, ma'am.”