#civil war press tour

[musette22]

2016 // 2024

[riricitaa]

-Which one of us [Anthony & Sebastian] do you think looks better in the [Captain America] suit?

[insert-stupid-username]

[marciabrady]

"He was a struggling actor when he and Mother met. She had just returned from a war-bond selling tour." While only seen in minor roles, Stephen Crane was the charmer of Hollywood and had gone out with every female star, from Betty Grable to Lucille Ball. On three back-to-back nights, he took Lana Turner out, then Ava Gardner, then Rita Hayworth- a move which was considered legendary, even by Hollywood standards. Lana was his favorite though, after the dissolution of their marriage, he had a brief affair with Rita in the 1940s. "They had known each other anywhere from a few weeks to a few months (depending on who's telling the story) before July 17, 1942, when they flew to Las Vegas and got married. Their union was sealed by the same justice of peace who joined her in wedlock to Artie Shaw. 'Tie it tighter this time, Judge,' said Mother to Judge Marshall. "I think Mother always had a hold on his heart. My father never said a word against her. He was always very protective to the point of getting into fights with her suitors long after they split [like Frank Sinatra]. Frank wouldn't go to any of my father's restaurants, even when they were the most popular places to go. They got into public fights over Mother a few times, before and after my parents married. Frank thought that Dad was some sort of gigolo, not good enough for mother. The first time I know of them ever being civil to each other was at my twenty-first birthday party, in 1964.After her divorce from Bob Topping and his from Martine Carol in 1953, I recall him asking at the end of one of our Sunday outings if she ever asked me about him and if I thought there was a chance they might get back together. 'Well, I don't know,' I said. I was thrilled, but Mom wasn't interested in reuniting with Stephen. After he passed away, I found a couple of scrapbooks he had. Of all the press he received over the years, all he had held onto were those from the time of his marriage to Mother." -Cheryl Crane

LANA TURNER & STEPHEN CRANE footage from a Los Angeles Air Base during WWII, 1943

[wenellyb]

I love that Sam and Bucky's relationship is much healthier now.

They always used to look like they were physically unable to stay away from each other. Which is great to witness when you're a shipper, but not something you want in a relationship.

If you look at Sam/Steve or Steve/Bucky, they're always had the kind of friendship where they were able to do things separately. But Sam and Bucky? They've never been able to do that.

Sam and Bucky, have been "inseparable" (Sebastian's words not mine), ever since we saw them together in Captain America: Civil War. And they weren't even supposed to be that close but they were always paired up together.

It gave us these 2 iconic scenes:

We saw them getting even closer in Avengers: Endgame, with Sam comforting Bucky at Tony's funeral.

And who did Sam turn to when faced with the biggest decision of his life? Bucky. Not Steve, his best friend. He looked at Bucky for reassurance.

Even at the beginning of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier, when they were supposed to be angry with eachother, Bucky wouldn't leave Sam's side.

And at the end of the show when they solved all of their problems, Bucky basically moved to Sam's hometown.

It's not only their scenes together, but also the way the cast and crew talks about them, Sebastian said they were inseparable, in the Captain America: Civil War Press tour. Anthony said that Sam and Bucky "can't do without each other" in the FATWS press tour.

Anthony also had this headcanon that Sam visited Bucky every other weekend when he was in Wakanda, during the Avengers: Infinity War press tour.

Even the cast members see Sam and Bucky as an item, and never expects them to stay away from each other for a long time.

As Malcolm Spellman said; "they are family in a way that feels like will last forever in the MCU"

In Captain America: Brave New World we saw a much more mature version of Sam and Bucky's relationship. They're able to do their own thing, and still be there for one another when they need to.

They know where they stand in eachother lives and are comfortable with it. Bucky's picture is literally front and center in Sam's office.

There's no way tfatws!Sambucky would have been to do separately things for such a long time ... Bucky would have asked to go on missions with Sam or Sam would have stayed with Bucky during his campaign.

I really like that Sam and Bucky are now in a place where they can indeed be without eachother when necessary, but still know how important the other is in their life.

[senka-mesecine]

Hey! I love your work. I was wondering if you could write about Barnes' s/o reassuring/comforting him about his face scars; that it's the thing they love most about him etc.

Here Stands a Wounded Apollo.

Robert Barnes x Reader.

---

-"Thank you."-

You whisper.

-"For showing me."-

The old, yellowing picture with jagged edges cradled in the palm of your hand makes it back to his and there's something steady, yet simultaneously playful in his stare; goading and challenging from his side of the bunk bed --- a mattress for one shared by two huddling together closely, his leg thrown over the entirety of your lower body. It was a nightly ritual. He'd leave the barracks and bunk here, doing so openly enough to where the gesture could be called cocksure audacity. The same cocksure audacity he was demonstrating now, contained in the glint of his eye. As sharp as a needle point. Sergeant Barnes was in one of his moods.

-"So, what'chu sayin'? One good lookin' sonofoabitch, ain' he?"-

He jokes at his own expense, almost like he was talking about a wholly different person and not himself. A matchmaker trying to assess if you liked what was shown to you or not. -"You still are, Bobby."- You scoot closer, endearing yourself, fingers rising to carefully brush against the left side of his face, uneven and all craters to the touch. He hums, deeply, looking away. -"Yeah."- Something disappointed in the way he says that, trailing off. An odd sort of melancholy. Perhaps more so with the rain beating against the window of the nurses' quarter outside; a huge hangar of equipment and a singular metal bed, all for you. Partially in shadow. A muted ribbon of halogen light illuminating the base seeping through the glass. -"Ain' nothin' wrong with a mug like this out here."- Barnes states, looking at you square on, moving his chin ever slightly, his scar facing you, almost as if to underline what he was meaning. All deep edges made bolder by the contrast of darkness. -"Fact is, tends to help."- There's something ominous in his stare; something slightly prideful. Like part of him tended to relish people's fear. Only for the haughtiness to fade. Replaced by a weird distance. -"Back there?"- He points his nose up, at a vague direction you understood was meant to portray home. He was talking about the prospect of rotating back to civilization like a far away, make belief idea. Bordering on abstraction. -"You walk out into the big wide world with me with all them folks starin' and lookin' and you stand by your man? No half assin' it?"- You recognize the Tammy Wynette reference in his words, but it doesn't make it any less serious; fact was, the war and the battlefield weren't like real world, you understood that. You remembered well enough. His face was now close enough for his nose to touch the tip of yours; his breath musky with a pinch of tobacco and heat. -"In the courthouse, the street, the bar, shoppin' down them aisles from the next slop to take home?"- He describes it all so vividly, his eyes reflecting your face back to you steadily.

-"Yeah, everywhere."- You blurt out, not needing to think about it.

Like some asshole on the street Stateside giving him glares or pointing at him could ever change what you felt.

-"Look, I love you, Robert."- You add, blinking up at him, his gaze right there.

An inch away.

Assessing you.

Like he was waiting to hear what you were going to say.

Giving you center stage to say it.

Daring you.

-"I find you extremely attractive, if that's what this is all about."- You confess it, squarely. Transparently. His photograph of himself from the beginning of his first tour back in the '64 still in the palm of his broad, meaty hand, pressed against his chest. Right where the pocket of his fatigues' bottom up was. -"You. Nobody else."- You assure, a deliberately tender finger coming up to trace the outline of the tremor running down his cheek, all zig-zags and dents. Like someone took a hammer to a stone and smashed it there, leaving behind a crack that ran from his jawline to the middle of his forehead, lay spread out all over his body; the damage tucked away under his uniform. Yet still undeniably handsome. Oddly Romanesque. In a different life, Barnes could've been the bust of some nameless Patrician; the marble of his visage partially smashed by the pickaxe that dug him out of centuries worth of black soil. -"A face just like that could've been chiseled out of marble. Placed in a museum somewhere."- You manage, feeling strangely poetic, caressing his cheek in the darkness. Finding he was letting you. -"With an inscription that says 'Here stands a wounded Apollo.'"- Sure, you knew it was cheesy. Corny, saccharine sweet crap. You knew that he might find your effort a load of bullshit. Instead, you find his usually perceptive, piercing eyes grow oddly mellow in the most unprecedented way that had the tendency of making him look a bit like a child contemplating whether to take the complement or not, and furthermore, how to take it and like all the years accumulated inside of him just disappeared.

-"You're fulla'shit."- Endeared, Barnes retorts with undeniable softness.

You knew this was the best way he could accept the praise.

[buffshipper8490]

RATED EXPLICIT

SUMMARY

Asami gives Korra an exclusive tour of Future Industries' sex toy division...

EXCERPT

"So how exactly did Future Industries get into the sex toy market?" Korra asked as her and Asami walked through the double doors of the department inside the Sato family's business building, Future Industries. "Well, after all of his business dealings with the Water Tribe Civil War and with Kuvira and the Earth Empire bit him in the ass, Varrick decided his personal business mantra was to 'Make Love Not War' and invested in R&D for much of what you see here," Asami replied, gesturing to the racks and racks of various sex toys, devices, and S&M rigs. "It's harmless enough, and honestly, I've actually gotten into developing some of these products myself." "Really?" Korra raised her eyebrows. "Like what?" Asami took Korra's hand and led her to a small handheld device with a glowing end. She pressed a button and the device hummed softly. "Like this," Asami explained. "I reverse-engineered the technology that went into the electroshock gloves we took from the Equalists and innovated the device you see here, lowering the voltage considerably, of course." Korra took it and felt the vibration in her hands. "Go ahead and touch the tip," Asami suggested. Korra touched the glowing end. A small electrical charge ran up her finger. She jerked her hand back in surprise and looked at Asami quizzically. "Did it hurt?" Asami asked, concerned. Korra shook the tingling out of her hand. "No. Not at all! My finger just tingles. It's weird." "It's a vibrator that delivers a minute current of electricity to maximally stimulate the nerve endings," Asami winked. "Very effective." Korra looked at her hand, still feeling the tingling. "I bet." Asami discretely put the device in her jacket and continued her tour of the sex toy department. Korra was bemused at the array of devices and sex aids— she had always preferred the old fashioned way, the natural way: a rock-hard dick or a few fingers in her pussy or ass. A tasty pussy that she could coax the juice out of or a cock that she could milk dry. If it ain't broken, don't fix it. "You don't seem very interested in any of the merchandise in here," Asami pointed out, sounding rather disappointed. Korra shrugged, blushing slightly. "I dunno... I just feel like many of these are trying to come up with a solution to a problem that doesn't exist. Call me a country girl or whatever but I just don't see the need for the majority of this stuff. Your tongue... your hands... that's all I need to be happy." "Thanks," Asami blushed. "I get that... but all of this stuff isn't meant to replace that. It's meant to enhance it. Sex aids, not sex replacements." Korra was still unconvinced. "Oh, you're gonna make me take out the big guns, aren't you?" Asami tugged her arm. "C'mon. Let me show you what else we've been working on."

Likes ❤️ and Reblogs 🔁 are much appreciated!

[musette22]

How intently was Chris staring at Seb that he noticed a tiny spider on him? And it was on his pants too. Did Chris just happen to be looking there?

I mean, can we really blame Chris for staring at the thighs of betrayal when he gets the chance? 😌 The interview probably wasn't half as interesting as Sebastian's thighs were... This whole thing is so cute, Chris is notoriously not very fond of spiders and he's noticeably a little worried about it, and Seb is just like "don't worry Chris, it's just a little guy, look" 🥰 Adorable

Gif credit @kittyseb from this post

[terranometry]

Tag Game: Get To Know Your Mutuals <3

Thank you for tagging me @mister-peregrine!!!! number one partner in insanity 🥺🫶

What’s the origin of your blog title?

My original blog name was extraterramisu, which was a joke about my initials (e.t.) and tiramisu cause yum. But I needed to change it for ✨reasons✨and wanted to keep the Terra part since that’s what I go by online :) So another pun was born!!! (I do hate math tho)

OTP(s) + Shipname:

Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr (Cherik) Charles Xavier/Logan Howlett (Xavierine) Batman/Joker (Batjokes) ESPECIALLY nolanverse Ennis Del Mar/Jack Twist + many many more but these are my ride or die babygirls forever 😤😈

Favourite Colour:

PURPLE I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

Favourite Game:

Jedi Fallen Order. Cal Kestis my POOKIE my BABY

Song Stuck in Your Head:

Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce!!!! No this isn’t because I think about X-Men Apocalypse constantly. Why would you think that. Shut up.

Weirdest Habit/Trait?

Whenever I’m trying to plan out a project or work on a problem, I talk out loud to myself about it like I’m an actor being interviewed on a press tour. It’s so fun you should try it 🫵

Hobbies:

Reading (not just fanfic i swear), watching movies, drawing/painting, playing piano, sewing, hikes, yapping with my pals about my obsessions

If you work, what’s your profession?

I work in my university library, and before that I’ve worked as a restaurant host/server. (My Fellow Americans if you don’t believe in tipping you better believe in it now)

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically?

I’d love to be a professional oil painter or comic artist, but art is my passion so I don’t know that I’d want to do that professionally :,) I think a career in academia might be interesting, I’d love to study the intersection of civil rights, social activism, and fandom in depth. Work in translation would also be interesting, my goal is to learn five languages in the next 5 years!

Something you’re good at:

Art ahahah but fr I pick up grammar very quickly when learning languages so that’s why I enjoy learning them. I’m also good at playing mediator but that isn’t always fun….

Something you’re bad at:

I’m a terrible procrastinator T_T and struggle with being a people pleaser…

Something you love:

Thunderstorms :) My family :) Charles Francis Xavier :)))))

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

The silly xmen aus that haunt my dreams and google docs folder; any of my obsessions (especially Breaking Bad/Star Wars/LOTR) love books i read; African American history; sewing!!!!

Something you hate:

The way people are taught to hate each other :( Also cottage cheese :(((

Something you collect:

Books count right? I LOVE BOOKS I want a big library one day. Or a little house filled wall to wall with books

Something you forget:

My watch in the morning 😭 I’m just a little old man I need my watch

What’s your love language:

Acts of service

Favourite movie/show:

My fav movie is The Dark Knight and fav show is Breaking Bad :( i’m just a guy ok :(((( i swear my tastes are varied and rich i swear

Favourite food:

Anything my mom cooks she’s the goddess of the kitchen and I am a humble acolyte

Favourite animal:

Mice—not when they’re in my house though LOL I was just very mousy as a lil kid, honestly I still am (also I’m not a furry but I do have a mouse fursona I’m quite fond of—but anyways)

What were you like as a child?

Quiet people pleaser and had like one friend.

Favourite subject at school:

Literature :D or history

What’s your best character trait?

I’m friendly to everybody

What’s your worst character trait?

I’m friendly to everybody

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

top surgery magic wand pls

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

Wanna go Magneto on Nixon 😇

AGAIN THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME POOKIE!!!!!!!

tagging @theofficialinternetloner <3

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Despite the widespread destruction caused by the Israeli genocide, ongoing in the Gaza Strip, and despite the Zionist entity's destruction of all Mosques in Gaza, the resilience and determination of Palestinians, strong in their Muslim faith, cannot be diminished as a Palestinian man calls for morning prayers while standing stop the rubble of demolished homes in the city of Khan Yunis, south of Gaza. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

261 DAYS OF ISRAELI GENOCIDE IN GAZA: INDIA PROVIDING MUNITIONS TO THE ZIONIST ENTITY SINCE START OF WAR, PROTESTS GRIP TEL AVIV, NETANYAHU CLAIMS US DECREASES WEAPONS SUPPLIES, UNRWA: 69% OF SCHOOLS HOUSING DISPLACED PALESTINIANS HAVE BEEN BOMBED, GENOCIDE GOES ON

On 261st day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 47 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 121 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

The Zionist entity has sent Defense Minister Yoav Gallant to the United States on a reconciliation tour after video released by the occupation Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, over the weekend accused the United States of decreasing weapons transfers to the Israeli occupation army.

Gallant will meet with senior Biden administration officials to discuss security issues, including the slow down of arms transfers to the Zionist entity, while the US administration continues to express concern over a planned visit by Netanyahu where he will give a speech before the United States Congress.

According to reporting in the Hebrew media, the Biden administration remains concerned that the Israeli Prime Minister could attack the administration during his speech before Congress for the supposed slow-down of arms transfers, which the White House still denies.

Despite intense push-back from the Biden administration, Netanyahu stuck by his criticisms at a Cabinet meeting on Sunday, continuing to accuse the US administration of slow-rolling munitions sales to the Zionist entity.

"Netanyahu's video was puzzling, to say the least," said John Kirby, spokesman for the National Security Council at the White House, speaking at a press conference on Saturday.

"We did not know that this video would be published, and the statements made in it disturb and disappoint the United States, especially considering that no other country is doing more than us to help Israel defend itself against the threat of Hamas. Netanyahu's statements about the supply of weapons were incorrect. Israel will not be harmed by our new priorities," Kirby added.

Meanwhile, back at home, the Netanyahu administration endures large-scale protests calling for a hostage exchange deal to be settled, with tens of thousands of Israelis spilling out onto the streets of Tel Aviv on Saturday night.

Organizers said it was the largest anti-government protest to date, while video from the protests showed violent police suppression, some on horseback, with dozens arrested during the night after the protesters blocked the city's main highway.

Protesters say they demand their government negotiate a hostage exchange deal, even if it means ending the war in the Gaza Strip.

On October 7th, 2023, Palestinian resistance factions broke out of the outdoor prison that is the Gaza Strip, raiding Israeli settlements and taking approximately 120 hostages back to the enclave.

By some estimates, just 50 of those hostages remain alive after 9 months of Israeli bombardment of the Gaza Strip, which according to the Hamas resistance group, has killed roughly half of the hostages.

Meanwhile, as the Israeli assault on the Gaza Strip continues, the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian refugees (UNRWA) has issued a statement declaring that 69% of the UNRWA schools in Gaza that housed displaced Palestinian families during the war have been bombed by the Israeli occupation army, leaving them either destroyed or partially damaged.

The UNRWA made the announcement via its account on the social media platform X, stating that according to the Global Education Cluster, an educational organization affiliated with UNICEF, "69% of school buildings where displaced families were seeking shelter have been directly hit or damaged."

"This blatant disregard of humanitarian law must stop. We need a ceasefire now," UNRWA added.

In other news, according to the Hebrew media site Yedioth Ahronoth (Ynet), India has been providing the Israeli occupation with munitions since the very start of the war in Gaza, delivering countless tons of military aid to the Zionist army.

"India stands firm in its support of Israel amid the war in Gaza and supplies it with advanced drones made in the country despite growing Pro-Palestinian calls from its Muslim demographic," the Ynet article states.

According to the article, back in May, Spanish authorities prevented an Indian ship carrying over 27 tons of munitions destined for the ports of occupied Palestine from docking at the port of Cartagena in southeast Spain.

"The incident highlights the fact that India has been providing significant military assistance to Israel since October 7th," Ynet said in the piece.

Back in February, the Indian media reported that India was supplying the Israeli entity with advanced Hermes 900 drones, which are manufactured in the Indian city of Hyderabad.

Ynet says the Indian media reported that the factory, which was established by the Zionist entity to supply the Hermes drones to the Indian military, converted at least 20 of the drones specifically for the occupation army due to a shortage resulting from the war in Gaza.

Meanwhile, the Zionist entity continues its genocide against the Palestinian population of the Gaza Strip, slaughtering civilians by the hundreds each week and obliterating the enclave's medical and public infrastructure.

On Sunday morning, June 23rd, local media reported that at least 5 Palestinian civilians were killed as a result of the Israeli occupation's bombardment of central and western Gaza City.

In one of the incidents, a correspondant with Palestinian news agency WAFA reported that Zionist warplanes bombed a residential building near the Al-Jawhara Tower in central Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of 3 Palestinians and wounding several others, including women and children.

Similarly, two civilians were killed, and a number of others injured, as a result of an Israeli air raid targeting a residential house in the Al-Shati Refugee Camp, also known as the Beach Camp, west of Gaza City.

Additionally, the Israeli occupation army intermittently bombed the center and south of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing bombardment of residential neighborhoods of Gaza City, at least 43 Palestinians were killed on Saturday according to local healthcare sources, while scores of others were wounded in Zionist airstrikes and artillery shelling.

The mass murder continued when the Israeli occupation forces on Sunday bombed a residential house in the Al-Sabra neighborhood, south of Gaza City, massacreing 8 civilians and wounding dozens of others.

Simultaneously, the Israeli occupation army also used a drone to bomb a gathering of civilians near the power station north of the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing two Palestinians and injuring several others.

Similarly, Zionist artillery shelling pummeled the western and southern neighborhoods of Rafah, south of Gaza, while Zionist soldiers detonated a number of residential buildings in the Brazil neighborhood, south of Rafah, continuing the systematic destruction of residential areas of the city after deconstructing nearly the entire Saudi neighborhood.

According to local reports, in the city of Rafah, the Israeli occupation forces have destroyed hundreds of homes in the Saudi neighborhood in the west and center of the city, detonating entire residential squares using explosives.

The Israeli occupation's massacres and atrocities continued with the Zionist army's bombing of the main eastern gate for the headquarters of the UNRWA, southwest of Gaza City, slaughtering at least 5 civilians and wounding 7 others.

According to local reporting, Zionist warplanes targeted the guard room at the main eastern gate for the UNRWA headquarters in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of 5 Palestinians, some of whom were "dismembered" by the attack, and also wounding 7 others, including women and children who were transported to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in the city.

Prior to publishing, another news alert was issued by WAFA News Agency, reporting that the Zionist army had bombed in the vicinity of the tents of displaced Palestinian families near the Vocational Training College of the UNRWA, west of Gaza City, murdering at least 8 Palestinians.

Another strike by the Israeli occupation forces targeted residential areas of the Al-Sabra neighborhood, south of Gaza City, killing 9 more civilians and wounding several others.

According to local Civil Defense crews, rescue efforts recovered the bodies of 3 Palestinians and several wounded civilians as a result of Zionist fighter jets that bombed a residential house belonging to the Ja'rour family, in the vicinity of the Dabit area of central Gaza City.

Meanwhile, in the Bureij Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, a female Palestinian civilian was killed, and several others wounded, as a result of an Israeli occupation airstrike on the "Meet" family home in the Camp, while another strike on a group of civilians in the Nuseirat Camp killed one Palestinian and wounded a number of others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 37'598 Palestinians killed, including upwards of 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 86'032 othrrs have been wounded as a result of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

June 23rd, 2024

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[cable-knit-sweater]

Cries forever // same 😭😭😭 is Seb also wearing the St. Christopher necklace?

Wellll, we obviously don’t know for sure, but I’ve decided they are. I mean:

via x by @riricitaa

They just look TOO similar. And let’s not forget this:

Clearly Chris gave Sebastian one, probably during the civil war press honeymoon tour 😏 (see also: ringgate). Or at least, that’s what I believe!! Especially since they both wore different St. Christopher’s pendants before:

And now they’re wearing more similar ones. Possibly the same. You can’t change my mind 😂 And it’s so incredibly cuteee 🥺🥰

[buckysimp101]

Just here to say that this Variety interview with Seb is giving 2016 Civil War Press Tour Seb (it’s totally the hair) but oh my god he’s still so fine 😭

(^^^ it’s these vibes)

[makehydrafictionagain]

Public Relations: Foundations- Ch. 1 Pt. 1 (MCU x Reader)

Note: While I work on Public Relations: Civil War, I decided I'm gonna throw a new part at y'all. Just to give us a better... foundation. <3

Summary: As the team navigates a day filled with public appearances, quiet reflection, and deeply personal moments, they are reminded of the weight of their past and the resilience of those around them.

Here is the prequel to this, Public Relations: Age of Ultron.

May 30, 2015

A low whisper rattled the thin window panes, the early morning wind pushing against the aged glass. It wasn’t harsh, just persistent enough to stir you from sleep a little earlier than you'd hoped. 

The air in the room was cool, the kind of crisp that settled in just before the warmth of the day arrived. You stayed still beneath the heavy comforter, the warmth cocooning you against the chill that had crept in overnight.

You blinked up at the window, watching as the soft, early sunlight stretched across the plaster, filtered through sheer curtains that shifted gently with the wind. Bratislava had already begun to wake outside, though at this hour, the city still carried the hush of dawn. You could hear the occasional sound of a car passing on the street below, but the steady rustling of the wind was the dominant sound. 

It was peaceful. 

You wanted to hold onto that peace as long as you could, given what the day would inevitably bring.

London was easy. Fun, even. A warm welcome, especially compared to the New York and D.C. stops beforehand. It was a press event that felt more like a celebration than an obligation. The English public had embraced the team, the royal family expressed their gratitude, and Parliament offered their formal recognition. There was no tension, no pointed questions- just appreciation. 

Vienna, though, felt more tense. The smiles were there, but beneath them was something else- something… watchful. The press event went smoothly, but the meetings behind closed doors had a different tone. You weren’t present for them, but from what you were told afterward they were sprinkled with questions about accountability, concerns about unchecked power. Nothing direct, nothing outright accusatory, but enough to make the entire team feel the shift.

Seoul proved to be a relieving break. A chance to focus on progress rather than politics. Dr. Cho was highly honored for her contributions to medical advancements, and you watched as she accepted her recognition with the quiet confidence of someone who didn’t need applause to validate her work. 

She helped you with an advanced regenerative treatment for your shoulder- nothing miraculous, just something to speed the healing along. It was incredibly reminiscent of the day you met the team; Clint was all beat up, but had just been worked on by Dr. Cho and was almost instantly healed. You hoped it would be the same for you. 

Steve sure remembers that day. Dr. Cho pointed out, both amused and confused, how often he watched you. She wasn’t quite ‘in the loop.’ Apparently, because you weren’t present for that conversation, either, he was quite flustered when Sam latched onto that comment like a dog with a bone. 

It was honestly the closest thing to a moment of peace that this tour had offered.

Johannesburg, though... Johannesburg was sobering. A necessary stop. An apology, carefully worded and heavy with the weight of responsibility. The city accepted their presence, but not without caution, not without reminders of the destruction left behind when Bruce had lost control by Wanda’s hand. 

The city didn’t need to know that part, though. 

The team visited relief sites, and spoke with the people who helped rebuild. When before there had been celebration, in South Africa there was acknowledgement. Of loss. Of damage. Of the reality that heroism didn’t erase consequences. It was also the first stop of the PR tour that Wanda joined; Steve made sure she knew she didn’t have to attend any of it if she wasn’t prepared for it. She took advantage of that permittance and stayed back for over half of the trip, leaving just her and Vision at the Compound for most of the week. 

You knew she would come, though. As little as you knew her, you knew she would come.

Now, you found yourselves in another new place. ‘New’ may not be the right word.

The team got in late and went to bed pretty much immediately, Wanda was the first to retreat. You wondered about her all night, through tosses and turns on the firm bed that creaked everytime you shifted. With everything going on in your head… The press tour, your speeches, the pain your arm was giving you… Steve… Wanda was paramount.

Because, today was different. 

Today is for Sokovia.

Your gaze drifted back toward the window, where the morning light was beginning to grow stronger. 

Bratislava was peaceful in the early hours, far removed from the destruction of Sokovia. 

But today, everything reminded you of a place that no longer existed. 

It's just so… real.

You sighed and forced yourself to sit up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed. The room was still cool, the floor cold beneath your feet as you pushed yourself to stand. You rolled your shoulder, testing the mobility. It was certainly better now, thanks to Dr. Cho, but the stiffness lingered. 

A quiet reminder that some things took time. 

Padding toward the small desk, you picked up the handwritten welcome note from a Slovakian official, skimming over the carefully worded gratitude. You had received plenty of these throughout the tour, but this one felt heavier, more personal. You set it back down and made your way toward the closet.

Your outfit had already been chosen days before- a sleek and conservative black ensemble, fitting for the tone of the day. 

No bright colors. No unnecessary embellishments. Just something professional, simple. 

Respectful.

You dressed slowly, buttoning the last detail in place before stepping in front of the mirror.

Your reflection looked composed, but there was still a tiredness behind your eyes, one that no amount of sleep could shake. You smoothed down the fabric of your shirt, then ran a hand through your hair, fixing a stray strand before turning away. It wasn’t about appearances today.

A final glance at the window showed the sunlight had strengthened, casting longer streaks of gold across the floor. 

Time to go.

-

The hallway outside your room was quiet; the dulled wood floors creaked underfoot as you made your way to the dining area. The scent of fresh coffee drifted through the air, mingling with the warmth of freshly baked bread. As you stepped into the room, you found it just as subdued as you expected. 

The dining space was elegant, an elegance that truly represented the town's history, with high ceilings and dark wooden furniture that felt more suited to a formal gathering than a casual breakfast. A long table had been set with a modest buffet: fresh fruit, eggs, flaky rolls, coffee, and tea.

Steve sat at the far end of the table, a cup of coffee in front of him, eyes scanning the newspaper that was delivered with breakfast, as if he could read it. He looked focused, but there was a distance to him, his mind clearly elsewhere.

Sam leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, staring up at the ceiling like he was trying to force himself to wake up.

Rhodey made it further than Sam, already halfway through his meal, flipping through some sort of notebook as he ate. He acknowledged you first with a polite nod which you returned with a warm smile.

Natasha entered just behind you, sharp as ever, already put together and observant as her eyes scanned the room for who she knew wouldn’t be up yet.

The mood this morning was different from the previous ones. In London and Seoul there was easy conversation, teasing, laughter. Today, it was quiet. Reflective.

You grabbed a cup of coffee and took a seat across from Steve. He barely looked up, only offering the most modest of nods before a quick double-take and softening of his expression. You weren’t offended. 

I get it.

Sam was the one who finally broke the silence. “Well, this is the quietest we’ve ever been. Kinda eerie.”

Rhodey smirked, shaking his head. “Give it a few minutes. We’re still waking up.”

Natasha, now settled with her own coffee, made a quiet observation. “Wanda’s not in yet.”

You debated whether to check on her, but before you could make a decision, Steve spoke. “She might still be sleeping.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful.

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the warmth of your coffee cup. “Can you blame her?”

Sam exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand down his face. “If I were her, I don’t know if I’d even show up.”

Natasha took a slow sip before responding. “She will.”

She will.

-

The door to the dining area opened softly, and Wanda stepped inside, dressed in black. The energy in the room shifted- not with awkwardness, but with acknowledgment. 

No one expected her to say much. No one pushed her to.

You watched as she poured herself coffee, fingers tightening briefly around the handle before she picked up a piece of toast, though she didn’t take a bite. 

Steve broke the silence first, his voice even and directed at the room. “We’ll head out in about an hour.”

Wanda nodded once but didn’t look up.

The others made a conscious effort to steer the conversation elsewhere, letting her settle in without pressure. Sam and Rhodey carried most of the conversation- their tone lighter, more casual. Something about super-suits and robot sidekicks, a topic far above your pay grade and not nearly interesting enough to pretend to care about.

No offense to the boys.

When she caught your periphery by finally looking up from her mug, you met her with a warm smile that didn't quite meet your eyes- rather, your eyes were too tired to show it. 

She gave you the same tired smile.

-

When the team arrived at the United Nations Event Hall they were stunned. Government officials, diplomats, and members of the press had gathered in front of a grand and imposing building adorned with Slovakian and UN flags, its large glass doors opening into a formal reception area. Cameras flashed as soon as they stepped out of the vehicles, the media eager to capture the moment. 

You were last, following closely behind Wanda. Where previously you spearheaded the introduction, you knew that you were not the celebrity here. If Wanda would have wanted, she would be the key speaker, but you knew she didn’t.

Security was heightened but not oppressive, just an ever-present awareness of the significance of the event- of your team. The atmosphere inside was respectful, the room filled with dignitaries and Sokovian survivors, all waiting to hear what would be said.

As the Avengers were led to their seats, lining the right side of the stage leading to the podium, the audience hushed, waiting. 

The speeches began with UN officials, some of whom you recognized as having followed the team on their tour thus far, followed by Slovakian representatives expressing their gratitude for the Avengers' role in preventing further devastation. Yet, even as the words of thanks were given, there was an undercurrent of loss- the acknowledgment that, despite everything, Sokovia was gone.

-

Steve stepped forward to the podium, his expression solemn and composed. His voice carried the weight of the moment as he spoke, steady and deliberate, ensuring that each word resonated with those listening.

“We can’t undo the past. We can’t bring back what was lost. But we can remember, honor, and ensure that Sokovia is never forgotten.”

He took a measured breath, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. “The destruction of Sokovia was a tragedy- one that no speech or dollar amount can ever make right. But what I’ve seen in the weeks since is something… truly remarkable. The people of Sokovia- those who lost their homes, their families, their sense of safety- did not give up. You did not allow your pain to define them. You stood together. You rebuilt. And in doing so, you showed the world the strength that has always existed here.”

His gaze moved over the audience, making eye contact with several of the survivors who sat near the front. “Strength isn’t just in battle. It’s in the way people come together, in how they refuse to let loss consume them. The people of Sokovia have shown a resilience that deserves recognition. Not just today, but always.”

He didn’t dwell on the destruction, nor did he try to shift blame. Instead, he made it clear that this was not about the Avengers- it was about the people who had survived. “We stand here today not as superheroes or soldiers, but as people who witnessed your strength firsthand. And we promise: Sokovia will not be forgotten. Your stories, your losses, your triumphs- they matter. And they always will. You always will.”

His gaze, perhaps unintentional, rested squarely on Wanda behind him. Yours did, too.

-

Wanda hadn’t expected to speak.  

She had spent most of the event in silence, listening, enduring. Feeling. But as Steve’s voice faded into quiet, as the weight of his final words settled over the room, all eyes turned toward her. She could feel them- watching, waiting, hoping.  

Her hands curled into fists at her sides as she stood, but she stepped forward anyway.  

She had faced worse things than this.  

Taking a steady breath, she let her fingers brush the edge of the podium, grounding herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, but unwavering.  

“Můj bratr a já jsme se narodili ve světě, který nás nikdy neměl chránit.”  

The hall was silent, every ear trained on her.  

"Nikdy jsme neměli být zachráněni. To jsme se naučili jako děti—že pokud chceme přežít, musíme být silní. Ne pro sebe. Pro sebe jsme nikdy nic nedělali. Ale pro sebe navzájem. Protože jsme neměli nikoho jiného.” She swallowed, exhaling slowly.   

"Pietro dal svůj život, aby zachránil dítě, které ani neznal. Protože to je to, kým byl. Nikdy nechtěl být hrdinou. Chtěl být bratrem. Chtěl být synem. A místo toho se stal symbolem, tváří na zdi, jménem na seznamu padlých.”  

Her fingers curled against the podium. Despite not knowing what was being said, it was as if you and the others could read her mind. You knew what she was saying.

"Ale pokud musí být symbolem, ať je to toto: symbolem toho, co znamená být Sokovcem."  

She lifted her head, her gaze finding the survivors in the front row- their grief mirroring her own, their pain woven into hers.  

"Naučili jsme se bránit se, protože jsme museli. Naučili jsme se truchlit, protože jsme neměli na výběr. Ale dnes se nebudeme trápit jen kvůli tomu, co jsme ztratili."

Her voice strengthened.  

"Dnes oslavujeme to, co nám zůstalo."

She turned slightly, looking toward Steve, toward the others behind her.  

"The Avengers will not bring back my brother. They will not bring back my home. But they gave me something else- something I never expected. They gave me another family. People who did not give up on me, even when I gave them so many reasons to."

She glanced down the team, toward you.  

"Without them, I would not be standing here today. Without them, I would have never seen who I truly am."

She looked back to the crowd, her chin lifting slightly.  

"Sokovia may be gone. But my people are here. You are here."

She let the silence stretch for a moment before speaking one final time.  

"A to vám přísahám. Ať jsme kdekoliv, kamkoliv jdeme- Sokovie žije v nás."

She stepped back. The room was still.  

And then, the applause rose- not loud, not frantic, but steady, heartfelt. A recognition of something true.

Wanda didn’t turn to look at the others, but she felt them there.  

She had said what needed to be said.  

And, for the first time in a long time, she felt like Pietro had heard it too.

-

The team was escorted to a large banquet hall, where hundreds of Sokovian survivors had gathered for a community meal. The space was warm and lively, filled with the aroma of roasted meats, fresh bread, and traditional Sokovian dishes. The long wooden tables were lined with plates of steaming food, and for the first time today, there was laughter.

Tony Stark had personally funded the event, ensuring that no one in attendance went without a full Stark-branded plate. His contribution to balance out his absence.

It was a moment of warmth amid the grief, a time to simply sit, eat, and remember together.

Instead of sitting at a separate table, the Avengers chose to spread out among the people.

Steve sat with an elderly couple and their adult child, listening to their stories about what Sokovia had been like before the fall. He enjoyed the cadence of conversation between the four of them, only one of them being bilingual.

Natasha and Rhodey spoke with local community and leaders, discussing ongoing relief efforts and how the Avengers could continue supporting them.

Sam entertained a group of children, somehow getting roped into an impromptu arm-wrestling match with an ambitious ten-year-old, much to everyone’s amusement. 

Wanda sat with a group of Sokovians who spoke to her in their native tongue, making her feel- if only for a little while- at home.

-

After observing quietly from afar for a while, you found yourself closely beside Steve; the two of you shared a table with a young family, their son asking him questions between bites of food.

"How strong are you really?" he asked, voice slightly muffled by a mouthful of bread.

Steve smiled, resting his forearms on the table. "Stronger than most," he admitted. "But not as strong as I’d like to be."

The boy frowned. "But you are Captain America. How can you not be strong enough?"

Steve’s smile faded just a little, his gaze flickering toward the other tables, where survivors were gathered. "Because sometimes strength isn’t about how much you can lift," he said. "It’s about what you can carry. And there are some things even I can't hold on my own."

The boy thought about that for a second, chewing his food slowly before asking, "Like what?"

His father chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "Like all the trouble you get into," he teased, earning a small pout from the child.

Steve let out a low laugh, glancing at you for a brief moment before answering. "Like making sure the right things stay standing," he said simply.

The father nodded, his expression turning a little more serious. "We are lucky," he said, his accent thick but his words clear. "Lucky to be here. To have this moment."

Steve met his gaze, and something passed between them- an unspoken understanding, an acknowledgment of what had been lost, and what still remained.

As the conversation carried on, you felt a shift beside you. The mother, who had been listening quietly, leaned toward you, her dark eyes warm with curiosity.

"When will you marry?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant, her English broken but clear enough.

Your entire body tensed. "What?"

She gestured subtly toward Steve, a small, knowing smile forming on her lips. "You. Him." She tapped the side of her head as if searching for the words. "Together. When?"

Your face grew hot instantly. You stammered over yourself, barely managing a string of half-formed words. "Oh, um- I, well, we- that’s-”

The mother chuckled lightly at your embarrassment, patting your hand as if to soothe you. "Beautiful couple," she said, her smile widening. Then, with a small nod, she added, "Beautiful babies."

Your brain short-circuited.

The woman grinned knowingly but said nothing else, simply turning back to her husband and child as if she hadn’t just casually rocked the foundation of your entire existence.

Your face was still burning, and you chanced a glance at Steve, who had straightened in his chair, his jaw tightening slightly as he fought to suppress whatever reaction was threatening to break through.

You swallowed, trying to compose yourself.

"So, um-" you said, grasping for literally anything else to talk about, "-you were saying something about strength?"

Steve blinked, then slowly exhaled through his nose, a barely-there smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. He shook his head slightly, reaching for his glass again.

"Yeah," he muttered. "This is definitely one of those things I can’t carry alone."

You pressed your lips together, fighting back a nervous laugh.

The mother just smiled, clearly pleased with herself.

-

You and Steve sat alone now, watching the room slowly diminish as families took their children home and press began to leave, satisfied with their bounty. Steve leaned in slightly, speaking low.

“This feels different.”

You nodded, taking a sip from your glass of water. “Less speech-y. More real.”

His eyes swept the room, watching Sam ruffle the hair of the last boy he had arm-wrestled in the line that had formed, watching Wanda nod quietly as a woman touched her hand and spoke softly in Sokovian.

“This is what matters,” he said.

You didn’t need to say anything in response. He was right.

The banquet continued for another half hour, laughter and conversation filling the hall in a last hoorah. When it was time to leave, you found yourself lingering a little longer, committing the warmth of the space to memory.

As the team gathered near the exit, ready to move on to the resting site of Sokovia, Wanda stood just beside you. She wasn’t smiling, exactly, but the tension in her shoulders had eased just slightly.

You nudged her lightly with your elbow. 

“You okay?”

She exhaled, glancing around at the people still laughing, still living.

“Not yet.” A pause. “But this helped.”

You nodded, and with that, you all headed toward the transport.

Sokovia.

-

The transport ride was quiet. No one had much to say, and even if they had, the weight of the destination left little room for conversation. The sun had climbed higher in the sky, only hours before setting, casting sharp beams of light through the windows. The warmth did nothing to settle the unease sitting low in your stomach.

It wasn’t long before the vehicle slowed to a stop.

As you stepped outside, the wind hit you first- warmer than before, carrying with it the distinct emptiness of open land. Rubble. 

You figured you knew what to expect, but seeing it was something else entirely.

There’s nothing left.

Where a city once stood, there was now only vast emptiness, an open landscape dotted with remnants of foundations too stubborn to be completely erased. There were no buildings, no streets- just a stretch of land that had begun the slow process of being reclaimed by nature. Nothing more than a scar on the earth.

The team spread out naturally, each taking in the space in their own way.

Steve stood at the perimeter of what had once been a city block, his hands in his pockets, looking out over the nothingness with an expression that was hard to read.

Natasha wandered toward a makeshift memorial that had been set up on the outskirts; flowers, candles, and handwritten notes left by those who had come before them. She crouched down, fingers brushing over a small framed photograph left among the tributes.

Sam and Rhodey spoke quietly with a small group of Red Cross and local volunteers who had dedicated their time to preserving what little remained, making sure the site was never completely forgotten.

Wanda hadn’t moved from where she stood.

Your eyes followed hers, tracking the way she stared unblinking at something in the distance: a structure, still standing despite everything else having been wiped away. You continued to follow her line of sight, and as you got closer, you saw it.

A mural.

Pietro.

The painting covered the entire side of the lone remaining wall, his likeness captured in motion, a streak of silver-blue trailing behind him. His expression was determined, focused, the same way he had looked in the final moments before he fell.

Beneath his image, in bold Sokovian script, were the words:

"Junak nikada istinski ne umire, sve dok ga pamtimo."

A hero never truly dies, so long as we remember them.

Wanda exhaled sharply, as if she had been holding her breath this entire time.

You hesitated before stepping forward. The others had noticed the mural too, but they stayed back, giving Wanda space.

She took a slow step closer.

Then another.

She stopped just short of the wall, standing still, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold something in.

Steve approached next, following your lead, quieter than usual. He looked at Pietro’s face for a long moment before placing a hand against the stone.

"He would have hated this," Wanda murmured, her voice barely audible, but there was a faint, sad smile on her lips. "But I think… he would have been proud, too."

You swallowed. "He mattered. To all of us."

Steve nodded, his voice steady. "We won’t forget him."

Wanda’s fingers hovered over the edge of the painting, tracing the outline of Pietro’s face as if she could still feel his presence in the atmosphere through the brick on which he was enshrined.

For a long while, no one spoke.

The only sound was the wind moving through the empty space where a city had once stood.

As the team slowly began to make their way back to the transport, Wanda was the last to turn away.

Her fingers lingered on the painted surface for just a second longer before she stepped back.

-

The team lingered near the transport, but no one rushed to step in. Leaving felt wrong- like stepping away would mean acknowledging that there was nothing more they could do here. 

And maybe there wasn’t. Maybe there never had been.

Wanda stood a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, gaze fixed on the crater she once lived atop. You stayed beside her, not speaking, just letting her exist in the moment.

Steve walked up to stand near the two of you, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t watching Wanda. He was watching the land- the open, barren stretch that had once been full of life. 

Wanda looked to the two of you and with a sigh, stepped into the car, leaving you and Steve alone, the last ones standing.

“You okay?” you asked him, your voice soft.

Steve exhaled through his nose, his hands resting on his hips as he looked over the horizon.

“No,” he admitted after a moment. “But I don’t think that’s the point.”

You looked at him then, studying the tension in his jaw, the way he held himself like he was carrying the weight of something much heavier than just today.

Steve had always been good at moving forward, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel the weight of what was left behind.

Heh.

You tilted your head back, your eyes searching the empty blue expanse above, and then you pointed toward it. He followed your gaze.

“I think we had our first kiss right… there.”

His eyes snapped to you, his lips parting slightly before they curled into something small, something almost reluctant.

“That was a hell of a first kiss,” he said quietly.

You smirked. “Not many people can say they had their first kiss while the city was falling out of the sky.”

Steve let out a breath of laughter. Soft, brief, but real. After a beat, he looked back up toward the sky, then back at you, his expression softer now.

“We survived that,” he murmured. “We’ll survive everything else too.”

Something tightened in your chest at the certainty in his voice.

You met his eyes. “You always so sure of everything?”

Steve held your gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly.

“Not everything,” he admitted with a small nod. “But this? Yeah.”

For a moment, you just stood there, the quiet settling between you like an unspoken promise.

Then, Steve tilted his head toward the transport.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

[beefromanoff]

Going Under Ch. 30

summary: Gianna and Bucky getting used to their new normal. Gianna performs for the first time since her tour.

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: more angst, so many emotions! this is the plan I've had for this story for SO LONG. I am so so glad to finally get to write it, as painful and sad as it was. it has to hurt before it can get better. pls trust me.

ilysm, thank you for reading! please let me know what you think!

chapter list

________________________________

Gianna

The early morning air in New York was crisp, announcing the slow arrival of spring. Gianna, wrapped in an embarrassingly expensive coat, sat alone at the patio of a small coffee shop near her apartment. The sun was barely making its way over the buildings, casting long shadows on the empty streets. It was a place she and Bucky had never visited, a quiet spot she had discovered on her own. As much as she longed for the comfort of old familiar shops, she couldn’t help but feel thankful to have found places untouched by painful memories.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Gianna sipped her cappuccino, staring into the swirls of foam. The city, usually bustling with life, felt calm and distant at this hour.

As she lost herself in thoughts, she didn’t notice two teenage girls approaching nervously. They wore wide smiles that faltered a bit when Gianna lifted her eyes to them. The apprehension in their eyes betrayed a mix of excitement and hesitation.

"Excuse me, Gianna Cruz?" one of them stammered.

A gentle smile played on Gianna's lips as she nodded, "Guilty."

The girls exchanged glances, building the courage to make their request. "Could we take a photo with you?" one finally blurted out.

"Of course," Gianna replied, her smile widening. She stood up, setting her cup down, and posed for a selfie that would undoubtedly end up on social media. Fortunately, she positioned herself against a relatively nondescript wall, hoping her new favorite location wouldn’t be broadcast to the world.

The girls buzzed with energy as they bumped into each other while leaving. “Oh,” One of them turned back to Gianna. “I’m sorry about Bucky. We were rooting for you guys.” 

Gianna gave a polite smile, ignoring the twist in her gut. “Thank you.”

As the girls thanked her again and walked away, their nervous energy palpable, Gianna returned to her seat. She checked her phone, a habit born out of the loneliness that had crept back into her life.

A text to Tom, her manager, sat unsent. She’d typed and deleted it over and over again in the past few weeks as she tried to establish a new normal. This time, she pressed send instead of delete. 

I’m ready to perform again.

Bucky

The training room in the Avengers Compound echoed with the thuds of fists striking pads, boots scraping against the mat, and the grunts of exertion. Bucky, clad in his training gear, led a group of SHIELD agents through an intense combat training session. His movements were swift, precise, and laced with a barely-controlled aggression that seemed to cut through the air.

Something was off. It had been for weeks.

Steve and Natasha stood on the sidelines, watching their friend with furrowed brows. Bucky's formerly stoic composure was replaced by an intensity that bordered on ferocity. Each correction he made was sharper, each word a biting rebuke. The harshness of his training was a mirror of the turmoil within him. They’d hoped that it would improve with the more time that passed since Gianna’s departure, but it had only gotten worse.

An agent faltered in executing a particular maneuver, and Bucky's reaction was enough to silence the whole room. 

"No, no, no!" he barked, his voice cutting through the room. "You're leaving yourself wide open. What if your life depended on this? You'd be dead!"

Steve exchanged a concerned glance with Natasha. This wasn't the Bucky they knew. He was always sharp, intense, but this was different — a raw anger fueled by something deeper.

Natasha whispered, "Steve, we can't let him continue like this. He's pushing them too hard. He's hurting, and it's bleeding into everything he does."

Steve nodded solemnly. "I'll talk to him."

As the training session ended and the agents filed out, looking more dejected than usual, Steve approached Bucky. The echoes of combat had faded, leaving a tense silence in their wake.

"Bucky, can we talk?" Steve's voice was calm, a stark contrast to his friend’s demeanor.

Bucky glanced at Steve as he began to wrap his hands for sparring.  "Not really in the mood to talk right now."

Steve persisted, his concern unwavering. "You’re not okay, Buck. We've all noticed. You're snapping at everyone. Let me help."

Bucky's jaw clenched, and for a moment, the ghost of the Winter Soldier seemed to flash behind his eyes. "I said not now."

Steve frowned as he watched Bucky finish wrapping his hands and begin to strike the punching bag. Picking his battles, he turned and slowly left the room. 

Gianna

The green room buzzed with activity as Gianna prepared for her appearance on The Tonight Show. Kate, her longtime makeup artist, applied the finishing touches like they were back in the old days of touring. The scent of hairspray and the hum of anticipation filled the room.

As Kate delicately worked on Gianna's makeup, the singer's mind drifted to a time when this routine was a familiar prelude to the bright lights and applause of a concert stage. She remembered another green room, far away from the studio here at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, where Bucky would wait with her, sharing a quiet moment before the chaos began.

The memories played in her mind like an old film reel. Bucky's calm presence, the shared candy, the laughs and the way his hands felt helping her in and out of her sequin bodysuits. There was a warmth in those memories that contrasted sharply with the chill of the present.

"Gianna, you're up in five," a stage manager peeked in, bringing her back to the present.

She took a deep breath, suppressing the twinge of nostalgia. "Thanks," she said, steeling herself to put her public persona back on. After a few final touch ups, she slid into her heels and was ready to go face the world for the first time since her press conference all those months ago.

The stage manager ushered her through the backstage area of the iconic Tonight Show set. The familiar sight stirred a mix of nerves and anticipation. The last time she was on a stage like this, Bucky stood in the wings. Now she was alone. She shook her head to clear it of the one thing she couldn’t afford to think about and plastered a fake, but dazzling smile on her face just as she stepped into the stage lights.

The interview with Jimmy Fallon began with casual banter, what she loved his show for in the first place. He asked all the pre-approved questions about her outfit, her new label, rumors that she was making a cameo in an upcoming film. Ever the charismatic host, he teased about the mysteries of her time away and what happened at the famed Avengers’ Compound. Practiced in the art of deflecting, she steered clear of specifics, smiling and evading with the skill of a seasoned celebrity.

"So, Gianna, what's next for you?" Jimmy asked, sipping his coffee.

Gianna grinned, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Well, Jimmy, let's just say, the stage missed me as much as I missed it. Stay tuned, because the tour might be making a comeback very soon."

The audience erupted into applause, only calming down when prompted by the monitors off camera.

"And what about the time off? Any inspiration for new music?" Jimmy prodded.

Gianna's expression remained composed. "It's been a journey, and I'm excited about what's to come. As for new music, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see."

Jimmy nodded, accepting the enigmatic response. "Well, Gianna, we can't wait for your performance later. Stick around, folks. We'll be right back after this break!"

The stage lights dimmed as the show cut to commercial, leaving Gianna with a moment of respite before the live performance. She stood as foreign hands removed her wired microphone and gave her a handheld. For a moment, she felt like she traveled straight back into the past. The weight of the microphone in her hand, the heat of the stage lights. She swore if she looked to her right, she’d see Bucky’s grinning face shielded from the crowd by the thick black curtain. 

Bucky

The spacious living room of the Avengers Compound was bathed in the flickering glow of the television. Sam sprawled, Wanda perched on the armrest, Peter lounging on the floor with a bag of snacks, and Natasha in her customary spot in the corner of the massive sectional. The atmosphere, usually vibrant with banter and camaraderie, felt subdued.

As the team waited for Bucky and Steve to return from their mission, the silence of the room was disrupted by the familiar sound of studio applause as the commercial break ended. The Tonight Show played on the large screen, Jimmy Fallon engaging the audience with his infectious energy as he introduced the first guest, none other than Gianna Cruz.

The atmosphere shifted slightly as Gianna's smiling face appeared on the screen. An involuntary hush swept through the room, replacing the calm with a more somber air as they watched her walk across the set to take her seat by Jimmy. Wanda broke the silence.

"I miss her," she said, her eyes fixed on the television.

The sentiment hung in the room, acknowledged by shared glances but unsaid for a while. 

Natasha added, "It's been quieter since she left."

"Yeah, things aren't the same without her." Peter toyed with the hem of the blanket on his lap

Wanda sighed, "She looks happy, though."

Natasha shared a small smile. "She deserves to be."

The team had purposefully avoided discussing Gianna in Bucky's presence, out of respect for his feelings. Yet, the absence of her laughter and vivacity had left a void that echoed through the Compound. Wanda had tried to keep the team dinners alive, but without Gianna to help cook, it was a tall task. Not to mention that Bucky preferred solitude these days anyway.

As the interview progressed, they admired Gianna's poise and the way she navigated the questions. Her makeup was flawless, her smile bright and cheeks rosy, but her eyes were smokier than usual. The dark liner was different, bringing a new intensity to her face. Hearing her voice in the common room felt familiar and foreign now that several weeks had passed and changed so much. With the chaos of the night she left, no one had really gotten to say goodbye to Gianna. Nat, being the one who flew her back to New York, came the closest. All they really exchanged was a sad hug and courtesy of Nat allowing her to cry in silence the whole flight back to the city. Wanda took it the hardest, second only to Bucky. She’d grown accustomed to having her friend around, and now her absence left a glaring hole.

In a fleeting moment of vulnerability, Wanda whispered, "I really hope she's doing well."

Gianna

In the studio, the set was simply a microphone stand and the musicians cloaked in shadow behind her, a stark contrast to Gianna's usual vibrant and glittering performances. Tonight, she stood resplendent in a sleek black dress, a departure from her signature pastels and sequins. She’d told her stylist she wanted a change. She wouldn’t admit it, but the dark colors were her way of mourning the love she lost and the life she dreamt of with it.

“I know everyone’s waiting for new music, but tonight I thought I’d pay tribute to one of my favorite bands, Fleetwood Mac. This song has always been beautiful, but it’s been especially resonating with me lately.” She gave a small smile. “I hope you enjoy.” 

As the haunting chords of Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs" began, Gianna closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the stage lights enveloping her. She wrapped her hands around the microphone and began to sing. 

Bucky

Heavy footsteps sounded in the kitchen and grew louder toward the living room. Steve and Bucky rounded the corner, still fully dressed in their uniforms. Steve’s helmet sat on his head, the chinstrap unbuttoned. Bucky’s hair was tousled, his eyebrow cut. Dirt and exhaustion covered both of their faces after being gone for two days. Steve paused, Bucky nearly running into him. His blue eyes locked onto the screen and the woman standing there.

The room's energy shifted, an unspoken tension taking hold. Natasha moved to change the channel, but Bucky's restrained voice stopped her. 

"Don't."

Gianna

And can you tell me was it worth it?

Baby, I don't want to know

Her voice was guttural, haunting. She sang with her eyes closed, brows knit together.

Steve shot Bucky a worried look, his own concern mirroring that of the rest of the team. Bucky didn’t move, every muscle tense.

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me

I know I could have loved you

But you would not let me

Gianna's voice soared, a raw and soulful rendition of the song. The song, clearly chosen with purpose, echoed throughout the common room. The team carefully observed Bucky's reaction, realizing that the song's poignant lyrics struck a chord deep within him. He stayed rooted in place, but his jaw was clenched, eyes wide.

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you 

Give me just a chance

She clutched the microphone, barely moving as her voice and soul took over. All the words she wanted to say to Bucky, all the emotions she wanted to let overflow. She wanted to scream at him, throw things at him, fall at his feet and weep. She hated him for being the reason she wasn’t able to love him.

She wouldn’t, couldn’t, reach out to him. Her pride made her block his phone number as soon as she landed in New York. She had pages and pages of notes and half-written songs, all things she wanted to say to him. None of them felt ready to share with the world. This song captured all of her heartache, her anger. She hoped somehow, wherever he was, he was watching. She hoped the words hit him like a knife in the chest like his words that night had hit her. She hoped this song, her face, would haunt him like that last night still haunted her.

Opening her eyes, she let her voice turn raw and angry as she launched into the next line.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Bucky

As Gianna poured her heart into the song, the realization hit Bucky like a tidal wave. The haunting melody intertwined with his thoughts, and for a moment, the past seemed to converge with the present. He heard her voice now, but saw her then. City after city, night after night. Singing her heart out, seeking him out backstage. Running into his arms after a show. Smiling, chest heaving, glistening in sweat…she’d made him fall back in love with being alive. She was light, color, music. She was a sunny day, a rainbow. She was everything good about the world. Until…him.

Bucky's inner turmoil unfolded on his face, visible to the team. 

The woman on the screen before him was a shell of the one he knew. She wasn’t smiling as she sang. She didn’t dance or spin onstage. Her outfit was as devoid of color as his life felt. Even through the screen, he could see the anguish on her face, in the way her brows knit together.

Her kohl-lined eyes flew open as her voice reached a new intensity, a near growl, and she seemed to stare directly at him. 

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

As the final notes lingered in the air, the team watched in silence. The performance had laid bare all of her emotions, and Bucky stared at the screen with a mix of pain and recognition. Steve, torn between the desire to comfort his friend and the need to let him process, stood quietly by his side. The applause of the show, the commercials that resumed after she took a bow, all of it sounded muffled to Bucky as he stood frozen in place. 

His eyes remained fixed on the screen for what felt like an eternity. The room held its breath, the team's collective gaze shifting between the screen and Bucky's unreadable expression.

In that charged silence, it became evident that the lyrics had struck him right where she intended. The raw emotion in Gianna's voice had reached somewhere deep within Bucky, stirring something he’d been trying to repress for weeks.

Without uttering a word, Bucky turned abruptly and left the room. His footsteps echoed against the high ceilings as he walked away. The team exchanged uneasy glances, unsure of what to do, or what he’d do, for that matter.

Natasha sighed softly. "Give him some space," she suggested, tugging at the sleeve of Steve’s uniform. Clearly torn between following his friend and taking a much needed shower, he finally nodded.

Bucky, still clad in the dirt-streaked and blood-coated armor, moved with an urgency that mirrored the chaos in his mind. He needed to run, to escape the haunting words of the song, to process the emotions that had been stirred by Gianna's performance. He had to get her voice, her angry eyes out of his head. For weeks, he’d told himself that he did the right thing. He set her free, he wasn’t holding her back anymore. But tonight…seeing her made him question everything. He had something, someone so incredible. After him, she was a shadow. 

Was he really that dangerous, that he could utterly destroy the woman he loved in his attempt to spare her?

Outside, the cool night air hit him as he sprinted through the compound's trails. The sound of his boots on the pavement echoed his racing thoughts. Each step seemed to distance him from the echoes of the past that had resurfaced, and yet, the weight on his chest threatened to crush him.

Gianna

The night air was buzzing with excitement as Gianna stepped into the upscale lounge. The atmosphere was a blend of dimmed lights, smooth jazz, and the muted hum of conversation. She navigated the prestigious crowd, catching glimpses of familiar faces from the entertainment industry. It had been over a year since she’d been at this particular spot, a favorite of celebrities in New York. With her newfound loneliness, ahem, freedom -- she’d been doing her best to get out and socialize. Be seen again. She was never a huge fan of the performative nature of her industry, but she sure knew how to play the game. The more she was spotted out and about, the further away the headlines about her alleged breakup would get.

So here she was, in a meticulously styled outfit, attending an after party for an event she didn’t even remember the name of. Jimmy had invited her after the taping of the show earlier that afternoon. Her options were to say yes or to go back to her empty penthouse, and she was all out of the good gin anyways.

Gianna sidled up to the bar between overstuffed velvet stools and ordered a dirty martini. Another female artist and a friend of Gianna joined her at the bar, greeting her with a hug. They exchanged pleasantries amidst the loud chatter, discussing new albums and sharing touring stories.

Jimmy Fallon appeared, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Hey, Gianna, got a question for you," Jimmy said, interrupting their conversation as he held out his phone.

Curiosity etched on her face, Gianna glanced at the phone he offered. On the screen was a text conversation where her name jumped out. As she skimmed through the messages, Jimmy leaned in with a conspiratorial smile.

"Sebastian Stan wanted to say hi. Mind if I share your number?"

[fictionadventurer]

@story-courty I can corroborate! Edwin Booth, elder brother of John Wilkes and the man considered possibly the greatest actor of the nineteenth century, saved Robert Todd Lincoln from falling from a train platform in Jersey City, New Jersey. We don't know the exact date of the incident, but it most likely occurred sometime in 1863 or 1864, when Robert was returning to Washington from Harvard, and Booth was going to Richmond with John T. Ford, owner of (believe it or not) Ford's Theater.

The Library of Congress website provides a link to the April 26, 1865 edition of the Cleveland Morning Leader that tells the story like this.

Not a month since, Mr. Edwin Booth was proceeding to Washington. At Trenton, there was a general scramble to reach the cars, which had started, leaving many behind in the refreshment saloon. Mr. Edwin Booth was preceded by a gentleman whose foot slipped as he was stepping upon the platform, and who would have fallen at once beneath the wheels had not Mr. Edwin Booth's arm sustained him. The gentleman remarked that he had had a narrow escape of his life, and was thankful to his preserver. It was Robert Lincoln, the son that that great, good man who now lies dead before our blistered eyes, and whose name we cannot mention without choking. In some way the incident came to the knowledge of Lieutenant General Grant, who at once wrote a civil letter to Mr. Edwin Booth, and said that if he could serve him at any time he would be glad to do so. Mr. Booth replied, playfully, that when he (Grant) was in Richmond, he would like to play for him there.

Robert Lincoln confirmed the story for the Century Magazine in 1909. (Possibly as part of nationwide centennial celebrations of Abraham Lincoln's birth).

The incident occurred while a group of passengers were late at night purchasing their sleeping car places from the conductor who stood on the station platform at the entrance of the car. The platform was about the height of the car floor, and there was of course a narrow space between the platform and the car body. There was some crowding, and I happened to be pressed by it against the car body while waiting my turn. In this situation the train began to move, and by the motion I was twisted off my feet, and had dropped somewhat, with feet downward, into the open space, and was personally helpless, when my coat collar was vigorously seized and I was quickly pulled up and out to a secure footing on the platform. Upon turning to thank my rescuer I saw it was Edwin Booth, whose face was of course well known to me, and I expressed my gratitude to him, and in doing so, called him by name.

Edwin Booth didn't know the name of the man he'd saved until 1865, when Adam Badeau, another officer on Grant's staff who Lincoln had told the story to, wrote him a letter about it. Booth was a staunch Unionist and admirer of Abraham Lincoln, and he'd been feuding with his younger brother for years because of his Confederate sympathies. The news of the assassination devastated him, and he later told a friend that one of the only things that got him through those dark months afterward was the knowledge that he'd saved Robert's life. People initially thought that the Booth name was too blackened for Edwin to continue his career in acting, but he made a triumphant return to the stage in 1866 for a performance of Hamlet that got rave reviews, and eventually opened his own theater and went on a worldwide tour.

I can't fail to mention that this is only one of the coincidences regarding presidential assassinations in Robert Todd Lincoln's life, because he is the only man to have been present at events surrounding three of the four assassinations of American presidents. He was present at his father's deathbed after the assassination (though he wasn't at the theater and always regretted it, because he would have been sitting at the back of the box between Booth and his father). In 1881, he served as Secretary of War under President James Garfield, and was with him at the train station when he was shot by a crazed office-seeker. Robert secured the services of the doctor who had cared for Abraham Lincoln--though, unfortunately, this doctor's overzealous methods, insistence on his own theories, and refusal to follow antiseptic practices caused the infection that actually killed Garfield more than two months later. In 1901, Robert Lincoln was working as president of the Pullman Palace Car Company when President William McKinley invited him to the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York where McKinley was making an appearance. At the same time Lincoln's train pulled in to the station, McKinley was shot by an assassin who'd joined the receiving line to meet him. Lincoln immediately went to the hospital to visit the injured McKinley, who died six days later.

Robert Lincoln was a major figure in the Republican Party whose name was often mentioned as a presidential candidate, but Robert never pursued the office, for what should be obvious reasons.

This blog from the U.S. National Archives sums up the situation well.

When Theodore Roosevelt assumed the Presidency, Lincoln wrote him. “I do not congratulate you for I have seen too much of the seamy side of the Presidential Robe to think of it as a desirable garment.” Later, he was invited to the White House as a figurehead of the Republican Party. He declined and swore he would never step foot in the White House again. “I am not going and they’d better not invite me,” he said, “because there is a certain fatality about presidential functions when I am present.”

[wenellyb]

Anthony Mackie at the end of the Captain America: Civil War press tour: