#i literally cry just looking at them

[rainofthetwilight]

YOU GUYS WANNA SEE SOME OLD ART???? OK

bleach feast your eyes.

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[afterthelambs]

⚠️Spoilers for Look Back but I was initially confused about what Fujino and Kyomoto's relationship had to do with pursuing a career as a mangaka. After thinking about it, I interpret it as a narrative device to represent what will come when choosing to pursue art (of any form, whether it's comics, painting, animation, music, etc.).

Think about it, what's Kyomoto's role in the story? She is what got Fujino to take art seriously in middle school, and what motivated her to continue after she initially gave up. However, she's also the only thing in the story that makes Fujino wish she quit art. First, halfway through 6th grade and then later after her death. She serves as Fujino's motivator and de-motivator.

I think the scene of Fujino wishing that she never told Kyomoto to come out (that pursuing art only led to suffering) represents artists' regrets. We literally look back and see an alternate universe where Fujino never pursued art and it has a happier ending. Anyone that pursues artistic dreams will end up regretting it at some point. It's not easy, any artist will tell you that. The story is saying yes, you probably will end up healthier and more stable by giving up your dreams. Because art is suffering.

But then Fujino enters Kyomoto's room after reading the comic from the alternate reality and all of a sudden we get a montage of the happy memories and accomplishments they had pursuing their dreams together. And we realize that, everything we saw of them in the alternate 'happier' reality pales in comparison to this:

The happiest both of them look in that alternate world is when they finally meet and promise to work together someday. They loved art. They loved each other. Giving up on your dreams means missing out on all of that, and nothing in the world can replace it. Because yes art is suffering, but art is also joy and love.

And so the end of the story where Fujino goes back to work isn't her moving on. She tapes the comic strip in front of her to remind her of Kyomoto, to remind her of why she got into comics in the first place. Basically, Kyomoto IS art to Fujino. A life with her means experiencing both suffering and joy, while the life without her means having none of that.

I might be wrong about this, like maybe Fujimoto just wanted to tell a mangaka story with doomed yuri (valid) HOWEVER i like my interpretation so im sticking with it.

[tea-cat-arts]

I simply think this fandom doesn't give Wei Wuxian enough credit for the various ways in which he saved Lan Wangji

[markantonys]

THE WHEEL OF TIME Season 2 Behind the Scenes: "The Tower of Falme"

[muckyschmuck]

ultimately!

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

i... wrote a smol fic (っ´▽`*)っ

also!!!!! If you haven't seen it - shoutout to first ever published fic in Ninja Showdown/My Immortal Soul tags - Lustrous Red by @missadmyre !!!

[catharsim]

Nora's first Halloween 🐉🏰

|| @plumbobem

[demodraws0606]

People complaining about Tsukasa5 already are pissing me off, because like, it's so unbelievably obvious what this event is trying to do and the fact that people are so hung up on "urgh dur tsukasa strong why can't he do a wall climb".

Like, first of all, a lot of Tsukasa's strength has been used as comedy before and also it's never been said that Tsukasa could specifically do a wall climb before so people calling this a retcon or a stretch is really dumb to me.

Sure we can make jokes about it, but this is not like a serious writing problem or anything.

Also are we just gonna ignore the fact this event is literally just a reference to his 3rd event in a silly trenchcoat. Or the fact that this is obviously meant to be WxS's downtime and training arc to prepare them to face the loose plotpoints in the future?

His inner dialogue when chasing the ninja is very clearly a reference to the whole Pheonix thing, how he can't reach it no matter how hard he tries.

The wall climb is like an extremely fucking on the nose metaphor to him climbing over his issues as an actor.

THERE IS ALSO THE WHOLE THING THAT HINTS THAT TSUKASA CAN ONLY OVERCOME HIS PROBLEMS IF HE HAS HELP FROM OTHERS (AKA tsukasa would've literally BEEN INJURED, if it wasn't for the fact the troupe's leader was there).

In fact this literally followed an event aka Tsukasa 4 where he FAILED to do his role correctly.

It's almost like this event is meant to be a transition point between Tsukasa 4 and 6, where Tsukasa builds up the knwoledge on how to face his problems.

But no this is just mid event because it's very silly and "wow plot is stupid why can't tsukasa wall climb".

WxS fans are slowly just turning into VBS fans in terms of how whiney they're being i swear

[ghostorbz]

Gaaaayyyy

[nerdy-talks]

I know I’m a bit late to the party, and this topic has already been discussed by others… but I wanted to add my own thoughts/opinions regarding Lesson 35.

Personally… I think Mammon is absolutely correct :

Oh, I beg to differ, Satan.

Maybe Lucifer won't be fully controlled by his own powers, but it's extremely possible that he's being heavily influenced by them.

I'll go a step further and say I firmly believe that, although Lucifer may be better equipped at controlling himself/hiding the fact that his sin is starting to take over compared to his brothers, he IS still being greatly affected by his pride.

I previously said that Lucifer genuinely seems so manipulative and borderline controlling now (moreso than ever).

I also said that I strangely like that side of him not just in a kinky way either lol. I just truly mean that, generally speaking.

Why?

Because doesn’t it fit Lucifer perfectly?

I mean, think about it :

A prideful demon such as Lucifer couldn’t possibly be wrong. His viewpoint is the only thing that should make sense. His opinions matter, his advice and decisions should be accepted with the utmost gratitude. Because Lucifer knows best.

He’s right.

Call me crazy, but I feel like all of that plays in so well with the power struggle going on between Lucifer and MC right now.

(In reality, I would be butting heads way more with Lucifer. Simply because I am a pretty stubborn person, and I would challenge his idea that he knows me better than I know myself..... Yes, I still haven't let that go lol)

But I’m most excited for what may happen next…. because I wonder if Mephisto’s arrival will end up fueling Lucifer’s sin.

We all know how much Mephisto dislikes Lucifer.

And it’s bad enough that Mephisto is going to successfully interrupt a private trip between Lucifer and MC… but if Mephisto starts questioning and/or contradicting Lucifer, inserting himself in their conversations, acting like he knows more than Lucifer… perhaps it will lead to Lucifer’s pride consuming him.

After all, who is Mephisto or anything else to question or challenge the Avatar of Pride?~

Plus if MC is directly involved, I’m positive that will only exacerbate matters.

Well… either way, MC will be involved because we have to save our favorite sadistic old man haha xD

Anyway!

I am seriously looking forward to the next Lesson.

Maybe I’m a bit of a sadist myself for saying this, but I kinda really want to see Lucifer struggle to control his sin to the point where he absolutely needs MC’s help.

At the very least, it would be a good reason for Lucifer to potentially give in/change his mind and finally make a pact with us.

Either way, I’m excited for what will come next (:

[storytellering]

It's very interesting to see how what platform you're on informs the fandom experience you get, and how certain fandoms seem to basically insulate themselves on one platform. Part of why it's been so hard to not rely on twitter primarily is that that's where the dmc (and specifically spardacest) fandom is, for the most part - you'll get some traction elsewhere too, sure, but if you REALLY wanna engage with the community, twitter's the place to be. (and I'm not talking about it for clout or numbers' sake - I'm talking about like. Purely the feeling of finding more people who like what you like, people you can talk to, get inspired by, have fun with - if your fandom is just you, your one friend and two non-english speaking artists who stopped posting 5 years ago... well, you can still have fun, but it can feel pretty isolating, too) With red dead, I came into it a bit resigned already because the reason i checked it out in the first place is that my boyfriend's best friend got him into it earlier this year, and he's been in my ear about it since (if he's reading this: ily and i say that lovingly lol), and I finally caved to see what the buzz was all about - but that friend, despite being a very successful artist on twitter, ended up discouraged by how crickets it seemed over there - like it was really just the two of them and a couple more friends interacting, and I just assumed that's the landscape I'd be setting foot into, so I was very ready to just be making art, as usual, because for me it's a primal need, just for me and my boyfriend and a couple of our friends, and if people outside that ended up enjoying it it would probably be just a happy fluke. But I feel like I ended up receiving quite a warm welcome here and over on bsky! I've been digging deep into tags and it seems a lot more alive here than twitter, haha. I'm still really only expecting to put out stuff for a couple people at most, but I'm happy to be proven wrong :)

[soupmanspeaks]

You know what

In celebration of a common CC W

Here's some rare Soup art of the boy

[melatien]

tiny yoichi (unwillingly) lures out soldiers by being his helplessness little self so his brother can strike

[wexhappyxfew]

what about feral bucky for the prompt: “If you even THINK about touching him/her/them, I’ll kill you.”? there's no way he isn't crazy protective like that

HI FRIEND!!!!!! thank you SO MUCH for sending this prompt in because i in fact couldn't help myself with protective/feral bucky who is heavily prevalent throughout the entire piece. protective bucky gives me OXYGEN and it seems to do a little something to kennedy, too. i definitely took an angstier route with this, but i had fun crafting this and molding some of the deeper discussions, so PLEASE ENJOY!!!!!! kennedy x bucky enjoyers -- please enjoy this treat!!! :D

you worrying about me?

(a/n): hi friends!! we have a kennedy-focused prompt with hints of kennedy x bucky and our good navigator friend, bessie carlisle :) we get into some darker themes here but nothing is talked about in detail. mostly just for in terms of writing the actual prompt. AND -- we have the symbolism of upside down roses here and i found out they can mean 'rebellion' and no doubt, they are referenced here. so please enjoy!! :D

"'Morning."

Kennedy looked up, her eyes flashing to the pair that was sitting down across from her, sleepy and half-awake.

Bucky Egan had never seemed like much of a morning person to her but it was her second morning here (to which she was waking at 0500 at this point from fear and nightmares) and he was yet again sitting across from her as the sun rose outside, the pinks, blues and oranges beginning to careen across the cold horizon and black silhouetted trees.

"Hey." Kennedy whispered, curling the blanket further around her body on the bench, "Sleep well?" Bucky settled and leaned up against the table, ruffling a hand up in his hair that was in 10 different directions from sleep, and he let out a sigh.

"Okay." he said with a nod, looking to her gaze and clenching his jaw, "Yourself?"

"Okay." she told him with a shrug and he quirked his head sideways at her and lifted the corner of his lip, "What's that look for?"

"Okay?"

"I mean, half of you snore and being alone in the middle of Germany for a week isn't exactly the most comforting thing to put you to sleep. So." Kennedy said quietly, "Okay. Not the best." Bucky watched her in the stillness of the dark morning and slowly nodded.

"What happened out there?" he asked her, voice low.

"Where?" She was almost defensive in her question, building up her walls, locking the doors, hiding away. She always did this. Her brain couldn't do. Get her thoughts out. In front of him.

"Germany. Few days ago." Bucky asked her, voice low, nodding at her, "Something happened."

"Nothing happened." Kennedy shot back, suddenly feeling guilty at the defensive stance she'd taken.

This was Bucky.

Bucky Egan.

He was just looking out for her safety.

All the guys were.

As the only one of the Silver Bullets girls to have shown out of the four that had bailed-out, they took on the protective forefront stance almost immediately.

"Sorry."

Bucky waved her off, clearly not perturbed by her small moment of bitterness.

"Can't blame you," he said, leaning forward again against the table and looking over at her with a small smile, "had a German breathing down my neck, pulling me outta some river. Walked through a town, attacked by civilians. Thrown on the back of a truck like dead meat." Bucky stared at her. "It's fucking sick." Kennedy watched him and clenched her jaw, a sudden yearn to hold him overtaking her.

"You got attacked?" she managed out, the thought of Bucky, a Major in the USAAF, being led by Germans through a town and freely attacked because he was now a prisoner. And they just let it happen; and he no doubt fought back helplessly. The thought tore at her heart a bit.

"With knives and pitchforks." he said with a grimace of a grin, "Real medieval, huh?"

"Were you okay?" she asked him, eyeing that bruise underneath his eye, that scar along his brow, that look in his eye, her cheeks flushing, "I mean, obviously, you're sitting here but…"

"You worrying about me, Farley?" he asked her quietly, but not in a really sarcastic or teasing way.

No. He was looking at her desperately; achingly. No, he was genuinely asking her, staring at her in such a purposeful way that she was sure if she hadn't just woken up she'd be much more aware of the way he was looking at her and what he was saying.

"Uh, yeah." she answered, staring at him, "I was your waist gunner. I'm not a stiff exactly. I have some level of emotional awareness about myself." The corner of Bucky's lip grew upward as he watched her. "What?"

"It's just me, Farley." he said quietly, regarding her with a look that seemed far from what it meant to just look at someone normally, "What happened out there?"

Kennedy watched him that morning in the darkness of the dawn, swallowing uncomfortably as her palms slick with sweat, her forehead dotted with perspiration suddenly. She looked to Bucky.

"Just….stuff I don't really want to think about, to be quite honest." she said quietly with a nod, before stiffening up, "Did they interrogate you, too?" Bucky seemed to grow still at her words, his eyes glazing over in a way that made her brain stutter and her mouth part the slightest bit. Evidently, they had.

"Yeah." Bucky said - quick and short, "They did." She grew quiet.

"What'd they ask you?" Bucky asked her next, seeming to fill in the question in her mind that she wanted to ask him. She pulled the blanket up more around her shoulders and sighed a bit, looking down at the table where her half-empty canteen was sat. She needed to do something with her hands, she couldn't just sit here and let what was going on in her mind takeover. She grabbed the canteen and took a shaky sip and looked towards Bucky again. He was looking at her suddenly more worried than he had been previously, his brow furrowed and narrowed all at once, leaning more across the table, watching her like she had just mentioned something that had upset her.

"Shit I didn't feel like talking about." Kennedy said quietly this time, "About Captain Faulkner. Lieutenant Bradshaw. Silver Bullets." Kennedy clenched her jaw, and felt the grip on the canteen tighten, hand growing numb as she reached up to swipe her ginger hair behind each of her eyes with her free hand. Bucky watched her with that persistent look.

"I didn't say a goddamn word though." Kennedy said, her voice dripping cold, "You should've seen the way they were looking at me. Like I was a fucking pile of clothes on the ground. It was pathetic." Bucky clenched his jaw, unflinchingly watching her gaze still.

"I told them I was a Lieutenant, you know?" Kennedy said quietly, "They never addressed me as such, just my name." Kennedy shivered. She remembered the aching of her body as she was led inside that room, sat in that chair, with two Germans on either side of her, gripping her biceps until her skin was screaming. The interrogator staring her down, watching her like she was nothing, tilting his head and smiling stiffly. 'Tell me about your time with the USAAF.' As if they thought she was letting them kill her here, like this was the end of the road for her. Were they sorely mistaken. 'Might I inquire about a certain Captain B. Faulkner - KIA? And a current Lieutenant A. Bradshaw? MIA?' Kennedy shut her eyes.

"Kennedy Farley. Lieutenant. O-499716." Kennedy said quietly, "Over and over." Kennedy's eyes looked to his.

"They knew where I was born, where I lived. My parents' names." Kennedy said, her voice shallow, as she stared at him, willing that in some way he would just shut her up so she could stop thinking about this.

"Kenny-"

"Boston, Massachusetts. Born to Belinda and Andrew Farley. Only daughter-"

"Kennedy." Kennedy snapped her mouth shut, her eyes meeting his again. Someone was shifting in their bunk, there was more orange infiltrating the sky behind Bucky's head outside of the windowpane and there was a distance ringing somewhere past the building.

"You hear that?" Bucky asked her. Kennedy slowly nodded, feeling catapulted back to when she had first entered the camp - stumbling in, limping, her bum leg somewhere behind her, as she frantically, in silent prayer, willed for someone from the 100th to step in front of her and tell her it was going to be okay. She remembered that ringing - almost like the bell in the B-17 to bail - she remembered the ringing of the entrance alarm that went off when new POWs were brought in. It rung around in her head like a free bird, instead trapped in a cage, with every touch a reminder of the sound of that bell.

"New POWs?" Kennedy said, her voice distant, "At 0530 in the morning?" Bucky stared at her.

"I'm going." she said, standing to her feet, pulling the blanket off, being careful to step past some of the creaky floorboards that littered the place (and no doubt by now, between the two of them, others would no doubt be waking up), but she tried her best to stay quiet.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky said and she heard him stand up from the table and come up behind her, "No way you're going alone." Kennedy looked over her shoulder in the threshold of the room and watched Bucky in the illuminated darkness and caught his gaze.

There was something about this morning that felt different about the Bucky Egan that was standing here now - with the way he was looking at her, the way he was standing so close to her side that she was sure if she tripped he'd be there to reach out and hold her up. If she reached out, she could nearly brush her finger across the palm of his hand. Kennedy blinked.

"Thanks." she said, a little breathless, then managed a small smile, "My knight in shining armor." Bucky grinned almost immediately at that, like a dog who had just been tossed a bone. He chuckled.

"Highest honors from Lieutenant Farley herself." he said, and her heart skipped a beat.

Even if it was just the littlest things - hearing Lieutenant Farley from his lips showed her one thing.

Even in her ramblings, he'd been listening.

And Bucky Egan hardly seemed to be a listener - he talked.

A lot.

But knowing he listened to what she had said?

Kennedy's heart pounded inside her chest as they stepped into the hallway, that ringing alarm still going outside, Bucky shutting the door behind them. They walked side by side, Bucky's presence something she would always feel comforted by. He was so…..large. In more ways than one. In height, his broad shoulders - God, what she'd give to hug him and bury her face away in his being.

Kennedy realized she was in fact standing there, thinking about his bare, broad shoulders was something she would've apologized to God about back home. But in a shit hole like this, small mercies were all they had. And the idea of Bucky was one of those.

Stepping outside, the alarm bell was much louder and so was the cold. It was in her ears on the wind, all over her face and nose, making her shiver just at the contact and for a moment, she considered turning around and going inside.

But then, her heart stepped in. Annie, Margie or Bessie could be coming in at this very moment, terrified out of their minds. And Kennedy had felt that. And she didn't one a single one of them to have to feel what she felt.

Kennedy wanted to be right there to pull them out of the turmoil and the fear and the salty sea. She wanted to tell them that for now, they'd be okay.

Her and Bucky began trekking across the open area of dusty land towards the gates, side by side, their arms brushing each other with intermingled bits of warmth gathering between them as they did so, hands shoved deep in pockets, chins tucked down in A2 jackets, hair waving in the wind, noses red and eyes watery.

It was quite a miserable sight, along with Bucky's slightly bruised eye and the cut on her cheek. In a way, she felt better knowing she was going forward right now with Bucky right there beside her though.

"Hey….Kenny." Bucky said quietly from beside her, causing her to look upwards and catch his eyes in the early dawn, the colors reflecting in his dark brown orbs, the darkness of the night behind him, the morning in his hair and on his chapped lips, "They didn't try anything did they?" She could've guessed that the question was coming - it was war time and she was both a woman and the enemy. Kennedy watched him right back.

"No." she said quickly, "I would've broken their fucking finger if they tried, you know that."

"Good." Bucky said quietly, his voice tight and firm all at once - he seemed evidently pissed off as well. Not at her, but at the current unfolding changes of the time. Which she didn't entirely blame him for.

They both grew quiet as they neared the gates in the early morning, a few bits of sun rays peaking over the edge of the treetops now, reflecting off windowpanes, MP40s in German hands and barbed wire.

Everything was dull and dreary as they watched the new group of POWs enter inside. Aimlessly looking around, staggering on two things they called legs, uniforms scruffy, dirtied and covered in a mix of blood and mud, scars and bruises littering the exposed bits of skin, and their eyes soulless - long gone to what their current state of life was.

"You think they made it?" Bucky asked from beside her as Kennedy watched a few guys struggle by, holding up someone between them, groaning and grunting with exhaustion to keep him leveled and awake.

"They had to." Kennedy said quietly, "And I know that Annie Bradshaw. She wouldn't go down without a fight." She didn't have to look over at Bucky to know he was grinning. She heard him give a chuckle before her eyes caught on something in the midst of the group, her entire body stiffening, all her senses quickly growing alert. She couldn't control it - not even at 0530 in the morning, not even when she felt like death herself, not even with the level of exhaustion, fear and depletion she felt.

"Bessie!" Kennedy was yelling, shoving past Bucky suddenly at the sight of Silver Bullets' navigator, her heart soring in a way she hadn't felt in over a week - the sight of one of her own, of someone she'd been through everything with. Someone who had always been there.

"Bessie Carlisle!" Kennedy came tearing around the edge of the second set of gates, standing at the edge, cupping her hands around her mouth, "Bessie!"

There in the midst of the group, staggering and alone, was Lieutenant Bessie Carlisle - a horrendous split lip, a black and blue eye, scraps on her cheeks, her body wilting away, her form hunched, arms crossed in front of her chest in an attempt to hold herself up and her body barely moving properly as it was, it seemed.

Her pants were covered in dried blood, her boots caked in mud and her top was torn in various areas exposing bloody welts and skin underneath and no doubt her freezing body.

Kennedy didn't care if the Germans would lose it, if she was going against it all - roses upside down were for the thrill of it all. She pushed forward through the mobs of POWs entering the camp, moving around people, avoiding the zombie-like bodies that shuffled by.

And finally when she was in Bessie's line of sight, she stopped and watched as Bessie met her gaze, frozen there in the midst of the group.

"Kenny?" Bessie managed to whisper out, her voice hoarse - it sounded like she'd been crying and screaming, "Kenny is that you?" Kennedy's eyes welled with fresh tears, as she felt her face scrunch uncontrollably like a small child again.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Cry. Cry. Cry.

And Kennedy stepped forward, delicately pulling Bessie right into her arms. To be quite honest - they were both sobbing. Something about the fact that in all this world, the waist gunner and the navigator of Silver Bullets had found each other - because no doubt they had thought the others were dead. Long gone to the earth.

Holding Bessie there, who was always so strong, pleasant and happy to seeing her broken in Kennedy's arms made a swirl of anger, guilt and grief fill her insides and she couldn't do anything else but let the tears drip down her face as they held each other and cried.

"Move! Move! On!" a voice hollered from somewhere behind Bessie and suddenly, Kennedy felt herself falling backwards, the wind knocked out of her as she landed, back flat on the ground, Bessie curled on top of her and a German pilot officer standing over them, the muzzle of his MP40 hanging over them, his eyes dark, lifeless, his lips a thin frown, his cheeks entirely gaunt.

Kennedy watched in earnest as the German pilot officer nudged as Bessie's body - to which she flinched and it made Kennedy want to scream.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Kennedy snapped, immediately regretting it when the German turned his eyes onto her, sneering down at her with a look that made her want to dig 6 feet under. Kennedy had to look away from him - this wasn't happening, this wasn't happening. Get Bessie up. Get her moving. MOVE.

"Okay, Bes, we're gonna slowly stand, okay?" Kennedy said, sitting herself up and helping Bessie get to her feet, keeping the German in her peripheral, "Just try to keep yourself steady."

"Move! On!" the German snapped at her, shoving the muzzle against her back as Kennedy wrapped an arm around Bessie's back. Kennedy glanced back over her shoulder at the German and watched his eyes - he'd pull the trigger whenever he pleased. No matter who it was - his eyes told her plenty.

"GO." the German said, knocking the muzzle roughly against her back again and this time, before she could even open her mouth, another voice beat her to it.

"If you even THINK about touching them, I'll kill you." Kennedy looked over to see Bucky standing there, his hand batting down the MP40, "We're fucking moving." And before the German could get a word out, before Kennedy could focus on what was going on, Bucky had gone and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, fingers brushing Bessie's frail, bony ones, and began leading them away through the crowd.

Anger. Fear. Pain. Grief. Horror.

The only words to describe the numbness that flooded Kennedy as she willingly dragged along Bessie beside the frantic Bucky who looked close to losing his mind any minute. He moved at a pace that she could barely hold, neither could the voiceless Bessie and as they got out of the crowd, Kennedy had to pull at the lose flap of his A2.

"Bucky, you gotta slow down." she said, causing him to stop and look at her, anger simmering at every bit of him, his fists clenched, his eyes staring her down like he was almost still looking at the German, "Bessie can't walk that fast. She can barely walk."

Bucky's eyes flicked to Bessie, who was still achingly quiet beside her and then back to Kennedy. He was inches from her face - she could see the sweat dripping down his lightly stubbled cheek. Up close, you could see the anger rolling off him; she could almost see past it all though, through his eyes and into his very being. Beyond anything, he was tired - tired of war, tired of this, all of this.

"I'll take her other side," Bucky said quietly, his eyes bouncing off her lips and to her eyes again this time before he stepped past her, "c'mere, Bes."

Kennedy watched as Bucky lowered himself a bit to wrap Bessie's arm around his shoulder and they began walking. It was a slow amble to the barracks, Bessie making pained noises like a wounded animal the whole time, enough to skyrocket Kennedy's worry to an all-time high.

And by the time they had shuffled her inside the bunk room, a few people were awake, the lantern lights on and were swarming them like flies. Buck was there, helping Bessie to a cot with a blanket, Benny tumbling out of bed to get some water going, Hambone sitting beside her, rubbing his hands up and down her sides, Brady on her other side, a hand on her back, moving up and down in a slow, comforting motion.

Kennedy stood there beside a wordless Bucky, watching Bessie get the help she needed. Slowly, she turned to look up at Bucky, suddenly wanting nothing more than to find comfort in a place as nice as his eyes. And to see him already watching her in that way he always did, made her suck in a breath that felt choked and tight.

She flinched when she felt his fingers make contact with her own, goosebumps spanning the width of her arm and across her upper body as warmth filled the pit in her stomach. His fingers danced across her exposed wrist, before sliding down into her own fingers, his palm pressing into hers, his large hand encapsulating her own. All while watching her - slow and deliberate and meaningful.

Kennedy released that shaky breath, staring back at Bucky who refused to look away. For all the horror, all he could do was stare at her. And hold her hand. And all she could do was stare right back.

But then Bucky quirked up the corner of his lips and a sense of calm washed over her gently. Like things were okay. Like this was okay.

"You looked like you needed a hand." Bucky whispered, briefly leaning towards her, "Literally." He squeezed her hand, brushing his thumb across her calloused skin. Kennedy watched him and let a small grin pop onto her face.

"You know me better than myself sometimes." she whispered back. Bucky continued watching her, smiling that smile, staring at her with those eyes. She swore she saw a hint of heat on his cheeks, but shook her head with a laugh. She was half-focused on his face and half-focused on the brushing of his thumb, slow and sensual on her skin of the top of her hand.

"Hey Kennedy? You got a minute?" Buck asked, popping his head back from the bunk, "She's got a nasty cut on her leg. Figured it's best if you help her there." Kennedy looked at Buck, immediately stepping forward and dropping Bucky's hand, that ball of warmth faded to ice as she nodded - Bessie needed her.

"Of course." Kennedy said, before glancing back at Bucky, who was watching her with that look again. Bucky nodded to her.

And so when she turned to crouch in front of Bessie, feeling his eyes on her was like the moon watching the sun.