#just some new ones before 2024 says see ya later

[justterribledrawings]

[solarsturniolo]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 // 𝔖𝔎𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯!ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰

©Solarsturniolo 2024

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who only bought kneepads and a helmet after you showed concern for him after a bad tumble. Because, even though he doesn’t care much about his safety, he knows that you do. He’d rather get hit by a car than putting you through the stress again; seeing the way your hands shook as you cleaned up his cuts and the way your eyes watered as you refused to look at him. He decided some safety gear was a good investment.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who holds your hands to keep you steady while you practice on his board. “Easy, you’re thinkin’ too much about it, just imagine your feet are goin’ right through the board into the ground…there ya go-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who doesn’t like to sleep alone, so he’ll facetime you or invite you to come ‘hang out’ which will inevitably end in a sleep over. “No I know you slept over last night, and the night before that, and the night before that, but just hear me out-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who shares his food with you no matter where you go. He’ll give you shit for it, but you both know he doesn’t care. It almost feels intimate to him, sharing something of his with you and only with you. His brothers will tease him for it later, but all that matters to him is seeing the way your face lights up as he pushes his plate towards you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who claims your music taste is lame, but will make a playlist of his favorites that you’ll play and listen to it on his late night rides.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has carved your initials into the underside of his board. He covers it with a sticker, knowing if his brothers found it he’d be cooked. But he hopes that one day he won’t have to hide it anymore.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who is consistently trying to impress you. Whether it’s with a new trick he learned, a photo his brothers took of him, or whatever it ended up being. He feels like he doesn’t have much to offer, so he tries to impress you by being cool.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can’t sleep on the nights when you’re not available, his thoughts eating away at him as he lies awake in bed. Tossing and turning, groaning as he looks at the alarm clock to see that only ten minutes have passed since the last time he checked. He hates it, he wants you there with him. He felt so empty and alone without you there.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who never forgets a special occasion, no matter how small and insignificant it may seem to others. From birthdays, to holidays, to National Chocolate Chip Cookie Day, Chris remembers every day that is important to you.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who can tease you and mess with you, but would knock anyone else out if they tried doing the same.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who talks about you to his mother so much, she is convinced you’re both married with three children. A boy doesn’t just randomly swoon over a girl for hours to his mother on the phone. “She told me the funniest story the other night when she stayed over-“ “She stayed over again? What is that, four times this week?” “…..anyways, she-“

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who has a raccoon brain and will see something shiny or cute and just has to bring it to you. “A…spoon?” “A tiny spoon! And it has a little pink bow on the end, see!”

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who loves coming over to your house. He swears on his life it’s just because of the atmosphere, but you know it’s because of your pets. He never forgets to greet them upon arrival, and always says (a very lengthy) farewell before he leaves.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who spends six long torturous hours trying to write you a cute note or a poem. His trashcan piled high with drafts that he crumpled and tossed away, because he wanted it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who complains when you beg him to let you do his makeup, but secretly loves having you so close to him. The comfortable silence, the brief eye contact, the way you gently dab and brush the different products onto his face. The tightening feeling in his stomach as you lean closer, making sure to be extra gentle around his eyes. He would never admit it in a million years, but part of him wants to ask you to do his makeup every time you come over.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you a fit check every. single. day.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who sends you pictures of the animal friends he makes on the nights he goes out skating with his friends.

‧₊˚✧ Skater!Chris… who cusses often, except when you invite him over to your place. He tends to watch his language when he’s over, not wanting to ‘influence the children’, in reference to your pets.

Reblog divider by @adornedwithlight

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[imaginesbymonika]

From the dining table |Almost-Finale

Pairing: Damon Albarn × Gallagher! Reader

Plot: Everyone's favorite topic during the '90s and 'OOs; Y/N Gallagher. The mysterious and beautiful younger sister of the two loud brothers rarely spoke during interviews but played the guitar like no one else. And even though she never said a word about her dating-life, the list of her rumored boyfriends kept growing longer with each passing year. Yet, there was one name in particular that just kept on popping up...

Previous part | Masterlist

(2024)

“To be fair my first reaction, when I heard that you agreed to come on here was “there is no way”. Because I personally think it’s a very bold move to have you as the new Oasis’ spokesperson- you know, considering how little you used to talk during interviews.”, Seth Meyers explains, which makes both Y/N and the audience chuckle.

“Yeah, can’t blame ya’.”, the woman in front of him says:” But well, the spotlight has always been on my brothers and their relationship… especially because of their falling out. Which, by the way, was very real. Just wanted to put that out there. Because I have seen those interviews where people assume that behind the scenes everything was sorta alright.” “It wasn’t?”

Y/N shakes her head:” Not at all. They both truly didn’t speak to one another for over a decade. Not a single word. They understand very well, that the second they’re getting interviewed it’s going to the brought up: those nasty comments, the fights… they finally just started to get along again, why risk any of that. It’s so fragile.”

Seth scans her features for a moment before leaning back in his chair:” I guess you’re right. But, you know… you’re fascinating on your own. So I am more than happy to have just you on this show. How come you never spoke during interviews-?” He raises his hand and begins counting his fingers:” Or concerts, award shows, red carpets…”

“One thing about my brothers, in case you haven’t noticed yet-.”, she shortly faces the audience before once again looking at Seth:” They love to talk. A lot. I didn’t. So I figured, that I might as well just don’t. And to be fair, neither one of them cared much about it, did they?”

“The whole thing turned you into quite the enigma.”

“Loved it.”, Y/N exclaims while taking a sip of her water: “And in the beginning I sorta just wanted to see how people would react to this whole “me being silent”- act. But they were obsessed with it.”

“You never spoke and threw some of the best Hollywood parties of the ’90s and 2000s.” The statement makes Y/N merely roll her eyes:” Please. Those celebrities just came around because there was always cocaine at my place.” At that audience members gasp which only makes her laugh in return:” Whoops, I’m sorry. God. I thought that was general knowledge.”

Y/N faces Seth again:” My two brothers did it. I did it; plus everyone’s favorite celebrity did it.” She takes a sip of her water while Seth clears his throat, which makes a few people laugh:” Speaking of your beloved brothers- one in particular. Liam. He really loves being on the internet, doesn’t he?”

”He’s a man of the people.”

Seth once again giggles before reaching under his wooden table:“ And a couple of days ago, he posted something on X that kind of made everyone go crazy. But then he suddenly deleted it again. Only to tweet this a few moments later...“ He flips one of the cards around showing a tweet that goes “Brothers n sisters y/n made me delete me tweet cmon i am a grown man with me own thoughts and im getting supervised like a little boy HER ATTITUDE STINKS”.

The audience laughs while the woman only shrugs: “To be fair I do have his notifications on in case things like that happen.”

“Well.”, Seth says in between giggles and flips a second card around:” This is the tweet he deleted: “Liam’s karma is that Gene looks like a young Damon Albarn”.” Underneath that tweet are two pictures attached: one showing Liam’s son Gene next to a young Damon Albarn. Y/N looks at them both and laughs:” Jesus.”

“And Liam’s reply was…”, he flips yet another card around:” “No me karma is that he’s now sitting with us at the dinner table”. Y/N reaches for her drink while a small smile makes its way on her face.

“Is Liam talking about his own son or is he talking about Damon from Blur?” “Well, guess.”, she answers, now fully grinning at the host. A couple of audience members audibly gasp at her response, to which she simply laughs.

Seth leans forward:” Are you telling me right now that you are dating Damon Albarn?” The woman in front of him stares at him for a few moments before nodding her head. You could hear a needle drop. “Jesus.”, Y/N mutters:” It’s not like we haven’t dated before.”

“I beg your pardon?”, Seth’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Yeah, back in the ‘90s.” “During the time your band had this huge feud with Blur?”

“I do admit the timing was unbelievably shite.”

Seth leans back in his chair again and crosses his arms in front of his chest:” I cannot believe this. Truly.” She laughs at his reaction:” Well, it’s true. I don’t know what else to tell you.“

“And your brothers didn’t know about it?”, Seth asks tilting his head slightly:” They had no clue at all? I find that hard to believe.” A soft sigh leaves his guests lips:” I think maybe they had their suspicions, I’m their sister after all. But there just wasn’t enough evidence. I remember that one night-.”

(1996)

“I know for a fact you’re seeing someone.”, Liam unexpectedly says, making Y/N flinch. “What the fuck, Liam.”, she hisses, while looking down at her once white shirt, that’s now covered in red wine stains:” That was fucking expensive.”

Her brother merely rolls his eyes. Noel who’s sitting with his back turned to his two siblings puts his cigarette out. “Who is it?”, Liam asks. “What are you even on about? God, you’re so annoying!”, Y/N stands up and makes her way towards the small bathroom of their tour bus. “I know you’re seeing someone. It’s written all over ya stupid face, I-.”

“Hey!”, Noel cuts him off and turns around, he raises his finger:” Don’t talk to her like that. Be nice, for fucks sake.” Y/N who’s trying her absolute best to remove the big stains softly smiles to herself. “Whatever. I know you’re seeing someone, and I’ll find out who it is.”

“What if it’s Albarn?”, Bonehead asks, while mindlessly flipping through a Playboy magazine. Y/N swallows thickly. “Now don’t be ridiculous. Our sister has too much backbone for that, right?”, Noel says, sounding more than offended.

“Yeah.”, Y/N exclaims while keeping her head low:” Oh absolutely. You’ve never seen anyone with that much backbone…”

(2024)

“They would’ve thrown you out of the band.”

Y/N makes a face:” Liam might still throw me out.” It’s followed by laughter:”He truly isn’t happy about it. But I’m his baby sister, so he’ll be alright. He has never been able to stay mad at me for long.”

“Y/N from Oasis is dating Damon from Blue.”, Seth mutters and shakes his head before turning to the audience:” If you haven’t been around in the ‘90’s you won’t understand how big of a deal that is.” He turns to face Y/N again:” How serious is it?”

“Oh very.”, she replies:” I’ve met his daughter, a week after we started seeing one another again. She’s lovely. I re-introduced him to my brothers a week after that. We-.“

“How did they react?”

“Guess.”

[alatushours]

☆ LOVE POTION, various — he doesn’t know much about love, but he’ll try his best for you.

contents. featuring xiao, dan heng, and roronoa zoro. gender neutral reader, fluff. xiao + zoro is canon au, dan heng’s is modern! your first date with each of the boys ♡ word count. 537

notes. writing the prompt “love potion” for my own event despite it having been closed for a month LMAO i just need an excuse to write something… anyways uh pls pretend i’m not writing xiao when i said i wouldn’t in a while 🫣 i have a wip for tighnari otw i promise !!!

xiao has never been interested in mortal celebrations. but after meeting you, he can’t help but want to learn more about them. “would you… want to come to the lantern rite with me?”

you were pleasantly surprised when he asked; glad to see that the yaksha was finally coming out of his shell. you laughed, took his hand (which prompted a blushing mess out of him), and led him down to the harbor, where the festivities were already starting.

figuring he still wasn’t too comfortable being around large crowds of mortals, you took him to a secluded spot on a hill by the pavilion, close enough so that you could still see the lanterns that lit up the sky.

“they’re beautiful, aren’t they?” you ask him, following his eyes as he stared at tiny glowing dots fading in the night. xiao nods slowly, seemingly mesmerized by the sight. you smile softly, leaning your head on his shoulder as the two of you watch the fireworks show that followed.

dan heng, being a bit of a bookworm, was a little… socially awkward, to say the least. luckily, you found his quirks entertaining. “there’s a new bookstore that opened across the street… would you be interested?”

so one tuesday afternoon, you meet him by the park, where he stood with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. you giggle when he awkwardly offers them to you. “of course, why else would you have bought them for?”

making you way to the bookstore, dan heng watches as you stroll down the aisles, picking out some you wanted. he felt his heart swell as he spies his favorite novel in your hand. “i didn’t know you liked that book too…”

the two of you end up spending the rest of the afternoon in the cafe next door, chatting about your favorite books over coffee. he smiles, maybe being a geek isn’t a such bad thing after all.

zoro never quite wanted to leave the sunny when the crew docked on a new island; he preferred to stay behind and take a nap, or train. but you always encouraged him to come along, and he finally decided to go along with it. “i’m gonna go explore… if ‘ya wanna come with.”

there happened to be a small crafts market in the town nearby, so you and zoro (mostly just you) went admiring the handicrafts the stalls had on display. "aww, how lovely!" you admire a little clockwork deer that reminded you a bit of chopper.

then you realized you had some business to attend to in town, so you left zoro behind for a few minutes, saying, "don't you dare get lost while i'm gone!" he stands there awkwardly, before glancing back at the crafts stall. while i'm here...

...and then of course you happen to accidentally encounter the marines, causing you to have to run back to the ship with zoro in tow. when you're finally safe in the crow's nest of the sunny, however... he presented you with the mechanical deer toy from earlier, to your joy. "i don't have that many berries but.. i know you wanted it, so i guess i'll just have to pay nami back later."

end notes. i thought i would write a lot for xiao but i ended up writing more for zoro lmao he’s been taking up all of my brain recently but i hope you enjoyed <3

© alatushours 2024. please do not copy, modify, or translate my work in any way, nor upload to any other platforms. in the meantime, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and consider leaving a follow! it helps a lot ♡

[me-saw-hoo-dini]

Okay so some background info on why I made this account to begin with. I started watching the Banana Bus Squad/Vanoss Crew back in 2012 when they were playing Black Ops 2 and then I stopped watching them sometime in 2018 because I had simply lost interest. I still kept up with them when I would hear things (drama, allegations, relationships, children, etc) and then I actually started watching them again in 2023.

I blame Nogla for this because I stg he literally did start all of this (unless I dreamt it. If so I blame dream Nogla CUZ IT WAS SOME NOGLA) but back when I was first watching them there was some early GTA 5 video (IF ANYONE CAN FIND AND LINK ME THIS VIDEO with timestamp if you would be so kind I WILL LITERALLY BE FOREVER GRATEFUL) and Vanoss and Delirious were doing something stupid. From what I remember they were in a yellow industrial vehicle like a cherry picker basket and they were like falling over each other and laughing and in the background you can hear nogla repeatedly calling them gay. Not too long after that Nogla made that fucking “New YouTube Couple: H2OVanoss” skit (https://youtu.be/bT_tq_Xkg34?feature=shared) and I really started thinking about it and ya! Noglas right! These mfers are gay (not fr I’ll get into it at the end)! Anyways that delved into me “pairing” them up with each other and reading fanfics (H2OVanoss, Terrorsnuckel, DathiDeCalibre, and MiniCat. I no longer ship MiniCat ofc cuz MiniLadd can rot in hell and honestly DathiDeCalibre is alright but just kind of fell off for me after lui’s accusations and the 12 years it took for me to find out if they were true or false) I had an account on instagram where I would post about bbs/vc and I made friends with people who also watched them AND also shipped them. Eventually we all grew apart and then like a year after that I stopped watching bbs/vanoss crew.

In March of 2023 I had stopped watching another group of YouTubers I had been watching since 2020 when a Vanoss video was recommended to me. I watched it cuz “holy shit how are these guys doing?” And they were still hilarious like I remembered them to be and I’ve been watching them again since. That also means that I’m back into “haha silly ship” but I thought that the shipping side of this fandom had died cuz if I did see any fanart or fanfics they were from 2015-2020 but then Vanoss uploads his 2024 Christmas GTA 5 video (https://youtu.be/O5QusxUHZ6k?feature=shared) and BAM H2OVanoss moment, the comment section starts freaking out, and I check ao3 later to see if anyone is fast to write a fanfic and my god y’all ARE still writing fanfics! I didn’t see one last night about that video BUT YALL ARE STILL AROUND?? Not only that but one of the fic authors (I didn’t even read it yet I just really like the description and disclaimer) has a tumblr account (WHERE THEY ALSO POST FANART AND VIDEOS) and YOU GUYS ARE ALIVE IVE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE FOR YALL BUT IN THE WRONG PLACES

IVE MISSED BEING HERE I AM SO BACK BABEYYY HIIIII

——————————————————————————

I just wanna clarify the basics before I go since this post and account is mainly going to be about shipping and even tho I’m crazy I’m not THAT crazy. It goes for all irl ships but I’ll mainly be talking about it as if it’s just bbs/vc

1) People ship different things and as long as it’s legal and or isn’t against someone involved’s boundaries idgaf what you ship. There are totally ships that I hate/don’t like of course but I know to avoid them/keep scrolling without saying anything.

2) If the people I ship together are in their own relationships irl I can not stress to you enough how happy I am for them. I love literally everyone’s irl partners like if they’re happy I’m pretty much overjoyed! I LOVE LOVE! If it makes sense to ship a literal irl relationship I do. I cried at Wildcat and Kelly’s wedding photos because I was/am so happy for them and I need Terroriser and Lanai to get married NEOOOOWW!!! (No actual pressure). Even with Delirious and Liz I, once again and even tho I wasn’t even watching him at the time, cried when Delirious announce they were going to have a kid; BOTH TIMES because I was/am so excited and happy for them and even tho they aren’t together anymore I still wish Liz nothing but the best and hope she is doing well. I am never gonna be one of those weirdos going “their irl partner is in the way of my ship” or “how dare you break whoever’s heart” cuz wtf is wrong with you that fucking WEIRD?? These are irl people and they’re happy and I’m not one of those freaks getting reality and fiction confused. And course break ups suck ya but that’s not anyone’s business to make their own; that’s between the people who were in the relationship!

3) If ever any of these guys come out and say they are uncomfortable being shipped, having shipping fanart of them, or any anything specific they do not like I will stop. Once again I’m not going to get reality and and fiction confused

4) I have already done this already but: I sometimes will ask questions or just talk about personal (if that’s the right word) things about people in the bbs/vc. Sometimes they are serious like I’ve talked about being worried about Vanoss’s mental health, asked why some people in the group are still following Mini Ladd, and asked for clear clarification since I wasn’t here for it that Delirious is 100% innocent and that there were no victims and other posts are more silly goofy or on the “introspective” side and I’ll say something like “I truly do believe that Vanoss does have a soft spot for Delirious” or like “Vanoss’s best friend (in the group) is probably either Lui, Terroriser, or Delirious” or stuff along those lines. The serious stuff is never going to be “I believe the reason Shit Ass and Dick Chocolate don’t do this anymore is because Shit Ass did this and-” like it’s not going to be drama inducing and as for the goofy stuff though sure I believe it, I mean I just claimed it, I know that I don’t know any of that 100% and that I am DELUSIONAL. I like playing with and organizing my delusions so ya know the silly posts are just that. Silly and there for my silly stupid “reading too much into things” shipping brain. I might also talk about my personal feelings (good and or bad) on some of the people in the group too. Those could go either which way of something simple like “I like Delirious’s voice with the shitty Astro’s mic AND with the good quality mic he had. I wish he recorded with the good quality mic again” or it could be like a vent post on how I find someone in the group annoying at times or how I feel a video shouldn’t have been uploaded/a part should have been left out. If it is ever a serious topic, question, or vent post I always add a trigger warning with a brief synopsis of what I’m talking about and I collapse the post so you don’t have to worry about or interact with it if you don’t want too ofc

[mythicalcowboyatheart]

Ficmas 2024 Day one

Friends to lovers w/ Johnathan Crane

John never thought he would ever find someone comparable to himself- in the platonic or romantic way.

But here you were, in front of him again– Years and years later, in Arkham. You enchanted him for the first time in college, but at the time, he was a moral psychology student; and now he isn’t. Now, he was Scarecrow, and here you were, as his brand new roommate, sat on his brand new bed.

“Is it really you, darlin’?” "Johnny! How are you old friend?" You smile up at him

He smiled, almost in awe, as he approached. His prison uniform looked quite tight on him now, given his lean figure. “I’m doin’ well, much better now.”

He sat on the edge of his bed, across from you, eyes on the small space between you two.

“How have you been?” "obviously not the best Jon" you giggle "better now your here it's nice to have a friend in this place" The corners of his mouth crept up into a smile as he chuckled.“It sure is a small world”

He crossed one leg over the other, still gazing at the space between you both.

“So what’re you in for?” "I should be asking you that doc" you smile widely "but...Ive seen the news so I know about that." He smirked, knowing the news loved to cover his stories, or the Batman’s side of the stories.

“Well I guess you already know the story then…how about yours?”"Guess!" You smirk. He raised a brow with a smile, intrigued. After a moment of thought, he began to guess. “Arson?” "ding ding ding! It was arson! I've always had that special place for pyrotechnics" “Oh really now?” He smirked, leaning back on his hands.“And tell me darlin’, what’d you burn?” "well let's just say a certain green wearing Gotham villain don't got there hide out any more...." “No way…” Jonathan looked surprised for a moment, but the more he imagined this act, the more impressed he became.“You burned the Riddlers place?” "among other things" you smile wider. Crane chuckled, leaning back on his bed with one arm, looking at you, impressed. “My, my, my. You’ve been busy then darlin’.” "what can I say I've always had a flare for the dramatics" “Oh I remember...”

He spoke softly, a small smile on his face. His eyes roamed over your features for a moment before returning to your gaze. “You always loved attention…” "imma take that as a compliment" you smile back “It’s always been a compliment, darlin’.” His gaze didn’t break from your eyes, studying you for a moment. He then looked down, admiring your lips for a moment before glancing back up to your eyes. “It’s… good to see you again. Even if it’s in Arkham.” He gave a lighthearted chuckle, adjusting his footing on the bed a bit. "ya it's nice seeing you after all this time" “I’ve thought of you every now and then…”

He paused, looking down at his hands.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remember. Just as charming too…” "and it seems you've gone bad since we last saw each other, I kinda like it," you wink. “Oh yeah? You like bad, darlin’?” His voice took on a slight edge, a smirk taking up his face. He leaned forward closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I like smart and bad boys Jon you should know this by now" you giggle. He gives a light chuckle, his eyes sparkling as they looked over your features.“I do, and boy am I… both.” He gives a smirk, moving a bit closer now, almost knee to knee with you. "the best of both worlds babe" you wink with a smirk.

He chuckled again, now just inches from you. He could practically feel your breath on his face, if you still had some.“You and I both know I was a sucker for your flattery.” He reached up with one hand and put it gently on your cheek, his head cocking to the side a bit as he admired your features. He ran his slender fingers to your jawline and under your chin. His gaze darted over every inch of your face, still taking it in. you kiss the tip of your nose "your so pretty Johnny" He chuckled slightly, his cheek flushing a bit from the compliment and the act.

“And you’re just as beautiful as the day I first laid eyes on you.” He paused, his hand still on your face. For a split second, his gaze dipped down to your lips, before returning to your eyes. "Johnny you know how I made you watch all those super sappy rom-com movies with me?" He chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit in playfulness. “Oh I remember… and I’m gonna guess you’re going all sappy on me now?” you roll my eyes

"do you want to kiss me or not cuz now would be that time in one of those movies" you chuckle slightly. Johnathan chuckled as well, looking down, still with his hand on your cheek. A moment of hesitation before his gaze returned to yours. “If I did, how many ‘romance movie rules’ would I be breaking?” you sigh cupping his cheeks with my hand.

"OMG kiss me you nerd" I pull you in for a passionate kiss, He chuckled softly into the kiss, wrapping his other arm around you pulling you closer.

[animusiem]

Mayonaka Punch Broke Me In Pieces

Summer 2024 for anime has been slow for me since all the anime I'm anticipating are still long way to go. But, one anime stood out from the rest and it's Mayonaka Punch. An original anime from the director of Ya Boy Kongming tells a story about a cancelled YouTuber (oh sorry NewTuber) making a new channel with vampires with her goal of reaching a million subs. With this being an original anime, I wasn't expecting much apart to see maybe vampire thirsting over girls. We do get that and so far it has been a blast.

What I did not expect is to be crying and having an existential dread over the loss of somebody. Episode 1-3 is the selling hook of the anime where you can see the dynamic between Masaki and the vampires. We see that the vampires here are different than most vampires in media like getting high off of garlic or still can go outside if it's overcast. But this week's episode...I'm floored by this because not only again took the vampire character into creative territory, but also what happened when vampire befriended or even have a bond with a human.

Episode 4 is about Masaki trying to diversify the channel's content by asking her vampires colleague of their interest. Fu didn't fill in the form even before she works at an Onsen. So Masaki entered the room and found a boom box with a cassette tape still in them. After she found out about Fu's singing skills, Masaki and Live decided that they want Fu to do song cover. Fu rejected that idea and that led to the whole gang to find the reason why.

I still can't believe this anime really just dropping one of the most heartbreaking story in anime this season or even the year. The way that the story handled grief and how as a vampire, you just accept it that if you have some sort of attachment towards a human that it won't last long for you. This philosophical question is actually has been explored before with Adventure Time being the animation parallel. But, what it reminded me of (and because the song they played is like singer songwriter type) is Jason Isbell's "If We Were Vampire" which talking about old relationship that one has to die before the other and you have to overcome those grief. Using vampire as something that they wish they are but would the relationship still the same as it was if you're mortal. One lyric that caught me after relistening to it again is "Maybe time running out was a gift". There's no other way to say but part of relationship that you need to face is your own mortality and how it affected you and your partner. Maybe if one of us becoming a vampire or just not telling your human partner that you're one, and then one day you just disappear because they can't bear the disappointment or even being scared of turned away. Then you found out years later that it might be too late for you as a vampire to just relive that moment and what could have been. But in the end life keep going on as you will remember them to infinity.

I just wanna basically let out my thoughts here because as someone who's not even in her thirties yet, the thought of my mortality is already creeping in and I think this show is what I need right now to just let that feeling out. And I can't believe it came from the anime that an episode ago, is having a garlic mukbang. So yeah I highly recommend this anime.

[nikatyler]

🌈 2023 ✨

Another year is over so it's time for a look back at what was happening on this blog! I haven't really been around, it was just my queue, and maybe that's one reason why I looked at my archive and went "huh" at everything. I don't remember much. The other reason why this year probably went poof in my head is because I was dealing with some mental health stuff lol. I say lol but it wasn't actually very lol but I'm doing better now and 2024...is looking promising for now.

So, let's talk more under the cut, shall we?

January

We're in Bridgeport and Sawyer is living his best life. You know, girlfriends, boyfriends, being turned into a vampire, giving birth to three little vampires, threatening to sell his enemies' organs on the black market...best life indeed.

February

Okay I am now seeing that "talking more" about every month will be impossible since I actually don't have much recollection of 2023 lmao

March

Sawyer and Erin are at the best point of their relationship, but we left them alone for a bit and went back to NSB. Pastel just moved to Strangerville and got a...rather strange roommate.

April

The rather strange roommate becomes Pastel's rather strange wife. I love these two so much. We also say hello to Moss -- and also to Ross, who returns from...god knows where. I mean yeah, there was the ts3 Ross, but technically they're two different people. Parallel universes and stuff.

May

Thea is born and strange wife Jesse gets even stranger. That whole "merging with the mother plant" thing was kinda weird but I really enjoyed it. Idk what I was on but it was fun. And then, before returning to the lepacy, I posted my Cottage Living screenshots! ...which were really just me going "uwu what does this do" on every possible Wicked Whims option.

June

...and I went from posting weird WW Ross stuff to posting wholesome Growing Together Ross stuff. If that gave you a whiplash, I am sorry, but imagine what it must be like for me. I'm locked with this guy in my head 24/7. He's the whiplash king. A blorbo to you, a curse to me. A beloved curse tho. Ok I'm getting weird. Back to the lepacy.

July

Lepacy time! Loved the soap opera Generations gen. Kinda wish I had sticked to some of the storylines instead of going "eh nvm I just wanna play". I'm not saying I regret not actually letting Saywer go on a killing spree but also...imagine if he went on a killing spree. You don't see that in lepacies often do ya

August

August was...welp 💀 I was at the grippy socks hospital for most of that month, 10/10 would recommend, but my queue ran out while I was there so I just reblogged some old stuff for a few weeks.

September

September is just lepacy month. Cornelia and Archer are happy, they get married, they get more children...yeah. Good wholesome Generations times all around. It's not like they're gonna get divorced later or anything.

October

The twins are kind of chaotic, one of them turns into a ghost, both then bring their cursed imaginary friends to life...and the final child of Archer and Cornelia is born.

November

I loved running into Sawyer at the grocery store all the time. Weird vampire alleged killer grandpa behavior suits him. Dorothea goes away to a boarding school, hates it there and instantly comes back. Relatable. Oh and midlife crisis hits Archer hard.

December

And we're in December! Dorothea enters her horsegirl era and finds herself a girlfriend...and we'll continue that in 2024!

What's in store for the new year besides the lepacy? Well, Not So Berry will be making a return (and HOPEFULLY we'll finally get to the end. we need to). There's a story I want to do in the NSB universe, if you know you know. Before we dive into the next lepacy generation, I'm thinking of another BC with the gen 7 heir...oh and Marika's Black Widow. Shoot and I'm starting an irl job in January. Yeah no we're not doing all this in 2024, don't count on it 💀 But I'll try.

Happy New Year! 🎇

[jessefferguson]

A Dozen

Ya know, Cancer is a weird thing. It doesn't pick you, you pick it. It's not an airborne virus or a contagion or a plague. It doesn't seek you out. Your own body seeks it out and creates.. Your cells transform. It's weird to think about it in that way but I always have. You don’t “catch Cancer", you just "get" it. That makes it all the more insidious; the call is coming from inside the house.

When my dad passed away, so did his cancer. The disease that was in him couldn't survive once he died. The cancer wants to survive, just like you do. It's not about "battling" cancer or "defeating" cancer—it's about living with it. And it living with you.

Today is May 21, 2025, a weird moment -- the 12th anniversary of the day that I was diagnosed with Cancer. Twelve-years ago, I sat in an overheated doctor's office under the fluorescent lights as he told me the diagnosis. A dozen years later, it's still with me - in some limited ways - and the consequences of the disease and the treatment will never go away. But it's chronic. It's livable.

Every day, especially when I hear about others with this disease, I'm reminded how lucky I am to be alive. I'm alive because of family. Because of faith. Because of good luck. And because of amazing doctors. As I've said before, I like having doctors who are arrogant -- they're in a boxing match with the grim reaper.

But the luck factor raises questions. Especially because I'm writing this a few hours after hearing about President Biden's diagnosis and about 10 years since his son Beau Biden passed away. It's especially weird to wonder "why me?"

Cancer diagnosis can make you ask that same question in two very different tones - why me? Why did I get it? Why didn't it kill me? Just depends if you emphasize the "why" or the "me” when you say the phrase to yourself.

MY UPDATE - THE GOOD Things with me are overall status-quo. I still deal with the regular impacts of the treatment --- changes to my head and neck, a tracheostomy so I can breathe, etc. But that's all been true for more than 5 years now. I'm used to it. Dad used to say, if you hang upside long enough, you can get used to it.

The best news of the last few years has come in the last few months. Since September of 2024, I've been off my regular targeted chemo treatment. I had been on one form or another of targeted therapy drug (or full chemo) since I was diagnosed but, in September, we decided we didn't need it. If, and when, it returns, I will channel my best Ross & Rachel, to say "we were on a break."

In truth, I fully expect at some point in my life things will get worse again and I'll need to restart the drug therapy. While we can't really spot any disease on a scan that justifies it right now, we know there are probably some cancerous cells somewhere. But, if they're not growing or threatening, we're gonna take a bit of a break and see what happens next. It is nice to not inject a toxin into myself every 3 weeks. My veins are quite pleased.

Some people term this as being "cancer free" but, with a disease like cancer, where your body makes its own decisions, I'm not sure what the term really means.

MY UPDATE - THE LESS GOOD The downside to aggressive Cancer and cancer treatment is that it comes with side effects. In 2015, those side effects led me to not really be able to breathe. I've had a tracheostomy ever since. No matter how bad things get in work or personal life, I've lost the ability to respond to a problem by saying "I need that like I need a hole in my head"… because I have one already.

Back in January of this year, I was sitting in my apartment in New York and started to feel weak and tired. I knew I had a fever. Moving around was uncomfortable. I did a few conference calls with my headset on but I'm not sure I was really a participating member. I sat in my lounge chair with a blanket and shivered a little. I hoped it was just a cold. I decided to go to sleep and see in the morning.

By the morning it was worse. I knew it was time to go get it checked out. So, I did what I've done before. I jumped into the uber and went down to Sloan Kettering's ER. Glad I did. They checked me in and pretty quickly got to work cause my fever was 104 degrees and my blood pressure had dropped to ~70/30. I had cellulitis that had become a blood infection. Not great. Spent about 5 days in the hospital. As I've done in the past, I worked from the hospital bed - my laptop fits great on the hospital rolling tables. It's a useful skill that I know where the plug outlets are in the hospital rooms and which ones will reach my bed for the laptop and the phone. You learn to make do. This, or something like it, happens to me about once every two years. It's sorta like a working vacation where someone brings you room service.

I don't think most people really realized where I was when they were talking to me at the time. As I've said before, if the Russian gov't wanted to really know political secrets about Democrats, they could just bug my various hospital rooms and infusion centers over the years. I talk WAY too freely.

By the end of it, I was fine. But it’s still a reminder when the doctor or the nurse mentions a follow-up prescription “because you could have died.” The phrase doesn’t scare me any more. I’ve probably heard it 8 or 10 times in my life. I guess I could just as easily be hit by a bus.

SO HERE WE ARE It's been 12 years. Next year, my cancer can have its Bar Mitzvah. I look forward to doing the Electric Slide.

Life is full of ups and downs for everyone. One thing I've learned through all of this is that tougher days are made much easier if you're able to do what you enjoy doing. If you go to bed at night and wake up in the morning happy with what you're gonna do that day, that's a win. And it's an even bigger win on the harder days. Im lucky to have that. DEEP THOUGHTS

In August of 2013, about 3 months after my diagnosis, I was living down in Houston at MD Anderson for treatment. I remember walking around the hospital one day and noticing a few people that looked like they were security for someone. Black suites and ear pieces. I subsequently found out that it was Beau Biden, then-Attorney General and son of the Vice President. He had just gotten diagnosed and was there for treatment. As we know, Beau Biden died about 2 years later. The 10th anniversary of his death is later this month.

So, why me? Hell if I know. It's not because I did something right and others did something wrong. Beau was a veteran, a public servant and a father. Our own bodies develop this disease and sometimes they decide to develop it but then not let it kill us. That's been my story so far.

As clinical as I can be about it after this long, sometimes I do have weird thoughts. I remember when I was first diagnosed 12-years ago, I was sitting with my Dad in a treatment room at MD Anderson. The treatments those days were long (6hrs) and fairly miserable in their side effects. I remember one day running particularly long and my mom had left the room for a bit. Dad and I were talking. And he said something that day and we never talked about it again. He told me he had asked in prayer that somehow he would be able to "take on this cancer for me" – that he would do it so I didn't have to.

Now, we're approaching the 5-year anniversary of my dad dying from a rare blood cancer (unrelated to mine). Dad was a larger than life figure and made business deals all his life. So, given I'm still here, I can't help sometimes wonder: maybe he just made a trade?

[implausiblyjosh]

Today is the final day of Chost. I made one last post on there, in reply to this one. I'll post it here, too.

This site was good for some, bad for others. Some people found their people here, other people got run off the site for linking to official feature request pages too often. If I'm being a bit more cynical, cohost feels a lot like the dril drunk driving tweet. If I'm feeling more charitable, cohost had a lot of cool people here that I'm happy to follow and signup on new sites with and I don't know that I'd have that opportunity without Cohost.

I have good memories of my time here, I have bad memories of my time here, and I have funny memories of my time here.

I'll remember one Cathode Ray Dude reposting my post about the weird message boards I used to be on where you'd organize with other users to post on their forums. Coming back onto the site and seeing one of my favorite YouTubers in my notifications, with tons of funny pictures and posts and comments. Probably the only time I ever "did numbers" on here, and really I just helped Cathode Ray Dude "do numbers".

I'll remember seeing my posts referenced in comments derisively. Some people would reference them outright, like someone basically quoting my "Moralizing Annoyance" post to someone else. Someone tried to honestly say that I was genuinely upset that I was the only one in the WWE 2K23 tag, when I very clearly was joking about that stuff while being serious about how cohost handled discussions of the "white tech" culture here.

I'll remember how baffling it was to see someone act like reading "cohost could be more diverse if there were more people talking about sports or reality tv in the same effort posting styles that white tech culture topics get" meant that they, personally, were being told they weren't "marketable" enough.

I hope that I see more things come out of cohost's ashes. I'm excited to see what gets created, and what ideas people take from here into new places. Hell, I'm already seeing people talk about the Following page on Bluesky and how good that post viewing option is!

Just remember, if you are making something from this moment, from these ashes, to compare your project fairly. While there was some sentiment of "i'd love to see you do better" from some members of staff, please keep in mind that staff had a wealthy friend willing to piss away 100s of thousands of dollars a year for a few years. It's a team that is trying to convince people a May 2024 Stripe update killed eggbux when the policy existed months before that update at least. Whatever you make, whatever you create, be sure to keep in mind the resources they had and what they delivered with those resources and compare that to your own resources and project output.

I hope you all find cool new places to post. I've been signing up for a lot more places now, and following a lot more people off of here, so I hope to see you all again soon. My stuff is pinned, y'all will know where to find me.

See ya later.

RIP Cohost

Cohost is shutting down because... well, of course it is. Cohost shutting down is the most "writing on the wall" shit for the last several months. The wealthy friend/funder ghosted them at one point in the last 12 months. Despite Anti-Software Software Club saying they were a "not-for-profit software company", they were just a regular LLC paying themselves near 100k/yr for their four FTEs. When they got new funding, after being ghosted, a stipulation of that funding was for them to be consistent in posting public financial updates, which they missed almost immediately. I cannot believe it lasted this long.

That they're still saying that "eggbux", the tipping and support features, fell through because of Stripe policy changes, something that seemingly did not happen, is wild. Can't even be honest at the end. Like... Cohost's early ideas started as a Patreon alternative. They've been working on "eggbux" as a concept basically since inception of Cohost. But up until the last year they were still working on this idea of being this Patreon/Ko-fi alternative without understanding the policy of Stripe and how that would work. I don't think it can be stressed enough how weird cohost's framing of the Stripe Policy Issue is. Nothing meaningfully changed about Stripe policy, ASSC just thought they could be Patreon/Ko-fi on a whim and then realized that's not how it works and had to stop dev on that.

Also, there was always this undercurrent of "Uber reinvents cabs and busses" to the whole thing. The Artist's Alley thing was just Project Wonderful, but was being pushed as a wild new thing for user-supported ads. And, like Uber, it was a pretty rough implementation of a thing that already exists because you had to click to a specific area that was just ads!

As much as I had enjoyable moments on cohost, I think it's silly to paint the site as anything it wasn't. I mean, one of the last big culture issues on the site was staff refusing to delete racist comments on a staff post until publicly shamed for their cowardice! Cohost was clearly not good for everyone who posted there. Someone got ran off the site for linking to cohost's official feature requests forum too often to ask for accessibility features, and popular people on cohost waxed poetic about how deserved it was that the person got ran off the site for being annoying. There were near-constant issues with racism not being handled well at all from a culture perspective, especially when people would criticize how white the culture of the site was. Hell, I saw someone be extremely bigoted on bluesky, then run to cohost for sympathy and get it. Even when people pointed out how bigoted they were on bluesky, with screenshots and everything, they justified it and had loads of defenders helping justify the bigotry!

I think teeing cohost up as some sort of "good sites can never exist unless it's corporate sludge" point also doesn't make sense since the site never had a plan for profitability. You can't be funded by a wealthy friend forever. There never seemed to be a plan, which is fine for a hobby but not fine when you're begging for cohost plus subs every month or so to fund your near-100k salaries. It never made sense in the long term, their own reports said so, and people were shouted down for pointing these things out.

No webbed site is perfect, and that includes cohost. It had issues up until the very end. It does no one any good to ignore the bad or pretend it was perfect, regardless of how much the site was good for you personally.

Sucks that a lot of cool people put their eggs in that posting basket, and I hope they find a different place that scratches similar itches.

[skinni-girls-eat-books]

Monday, January 1st, 2024!

10:29am We are alive mf's!!! We made it to the new year!

Currently having my semi-annual financial hoopla but things will work themselves out 😇

January goals: not spending money basically.

- don't get so drunk, it is not fun anymore!

- stop buying food/ drinks out! Too much $

- look for free activities

- free hobbies

- be mindful of what you're doing! And not doing!

- wake up earlier and go to bed earlier! (Gradual)

1:01pm I have already caved and have gotten PDQ 🤣 it's all good I'm straight chilling ❤️ Stay positive y'all. Watching A Historia Delas on Hulu, looks pretty good!

3:45pm Ok so PDQ has made me completely lethargic, the salt has made me totally bloated AF like I feel it in my belly and my feet and hands. I want to work on increasing my energy levels this year and omg this was not the right thing to do. I'm so bloated I'm too uncomfortable to nap even. This show is very good though thank god bc I'm clearly not doing much else today.

Also, one of my wall adjacent neighbors has been playing freaking dubstep or something for like 2 hrs straight and I just realized it's making my brain feel weird/ fuzzy but I couldn't identify why tf I felt that way before. There's so much damn noise in the world it's no wonder everyone is losing their mind/ irritable and slightly annoyed all the time.

8:04pm I did my nails! Also binge watching this show was a very good decision, the best I've made all day 🤣 Tried eating some cheese and it's too much!! My body is just rejecting all of this rich af holiday food and I should really clean out the fridge tomorrow and start fresh. I know it's a waste but idc I don't want to keep feeling like crap and I hate expired food. It's not my fault I went on vacation for like 10 days and all this was too much. I'm still not used to buying/ cooking food for one person. I need to stop buying gallons of milk ffs! It's way too much I had to have like 4 cups last night bc it was expiring today. This is just all part of being mindful, everything is a learning process! You are ok and you are doing great! ❤️

Also, learning more and more about how abusive my relationship is and I'm so glad the internet exists because it would have been so easy to just *not* be aware of this experience that i unfortunately share with many people!! Narcissistic abuse is real and I am ready to keep healing!! Can't fool me twice.

I loved talking to his grandmother though, she is so wise and sweet and I love that she really doesn't play his BS and can see through it, amen!!! I can't believe she said what I thought she would say.... She wants them to move out together so that they'll break up already!!!! That shit is crazy she really said that!!! I may be young but I am not stupid and I saw that shit coming from MILES away literally.

9:41pm He keeps randomly texting me and tbh at this point it's so crystal clear what he's doing and it's pathetic. Simply I have no admiration for him, no respect above human decency really, it's just pathetic is the only word for it. He clearly needs psychological help, and I'm not a psychologist! Also, don't you have a gf to text who literally hates me? Get it together, bro, you're not fooling anyone (except her?? Poor girl tbh she's really getting her payback/ karma in spades I'm sure) thanks universe :) love ya.

PS why does he keep bringing up the music thing?? Does he have no other lines I don't really get it. What tf am I supposed to do about that anyway. I listen to all of his music and my music just fine (oh wait it's because I took time to heal and didn't jump into another toxic relationship 7 days later!!) Get a grip, dude, you're not getting anyone's sympathy here.

Made a to do list for tomorrow so we'll see how that goes! Also I'm sleeping naked so we're trying lots of new things!

[shadowlineswriting]

Adeyemi

When Tomi Adeyemi's debut novel, Children of Blood and Bone, first came out, it made a lot of waves. It seemed like everyone was talking about it for a while. The reviews were insane, too! Entertainment Weekly declared that Tomi Adeyemi is the next J.K. Rowling, for instance.

Obviously, I had to see for myself.

Children of Blood and Bone is the first in what I think is intended to be a trilogy. Right now, only the first two books are out (the second novel is called Children of Virtue and Vengence) and those are the two I read prior to reviewing the story here. The third is slated to come out in 2024.

The story combines West African mythologies with a standard YA tale about oppression. It's a very "rise-up-against-the-monarchy" thing.

I had mixed emotions about the book. I did appreciate Adeyemi's celebration of West African culture, because she did a fantastic job of keeping that incorporated into all aspects of the story. It wasn't something she casually mentioned once and then randomly brought up again later. I struggled a little bit with her writing style, because she's fond of using the same adjectives over and over and she used different languages as part of the tale. That's fine, but doing it right out of the gate when I didn't understand the different types of characters yet made the exposition very confusing to me. I finally figured it out, and then it was easy to follow, but it took more effort than I expected. That's just a complaint because I was lazy, though.

The second book was a tough read for me. There wasn't anything wrong with it, but the story didn't feel engaging enough for me to keep going. I decided not to read the third one because of this.

The real thing that lost me, though, was reading the author's note at the end of the first book. Hear me out before you crucify me: Adeyemi talked about how the story is allegorical about police brutality and how Black people need to "rise" against this.

Similar to my views on feminism, let me just say that yes, there are some absolute scumbag policemen and policewomen out there. No denying. All you have to do is watch the news to understand that. But that doesn't mean that all policemen and policewomen are evil or brutal. It doesn't mean anyone should "rise" against the police.

My issue is when we start to stereotype in these situations. Yes, men are awful to women, but it doesn't mean women are owed control over men. Women are awful to men, too. For me, this is the same. Yes, there are evil police. But there are also evil Black people, and White people, and Asian people, and Europeans, etc. It's a two-way street, and it will always be a two-way street.

So, do I think police brutality is unacceptable? Yes. Do I think that means an entire group of people has to suppress the police? No. As such, it was hard for me to get behind this story, and that's the main reason I'm not going to finish the series.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Eight

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 8 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; extreme canon violence (gun violence, hand-to-hand, baton use, knives); strong language; mentions of drug smuggling, drugs, and human smuggling; mentions of blood and blood loss; major/minor character death (not the mains, don’t worry!); angst; gunshot wounds; heavy alcohol consumption

Word Count: 14,600+

A/N: Listen... you know damn well I had to put some American Pie lyrics in this. The reader’s and Jackeline’s relationship is not modeled after Nat and Yelena lol it was literally the biggest coincidence. 

~

MedBay - The New Compound, 2024, 1:52 pm     

     “He did what?”     

Bruce smiles sheepishly as he lugs Steve’s practically lifeless body onto one of those beige medical beds. Dr. Cho is pacing calmly around the room, getting her instruments cleaned and ready. She tries to ignore the way you’re crowding her, inspecting everything she touches and in turn is going to end up touching Steve.      

“He took a bullet for someone.”     

“And where is that someone?” you bite. You immediately want to apologize to Bruce for your tone but you’re distracted by the tiny groans of pain coming from the pale super soldier beside you. You have to look away to avoid whimpering yourself, but you can’t exactly make yourself deaf. “Don’t tell me he took a bullet for you.”     

Bruce rolls his eyes and steps to the side as Dr. Cho begins cutting away Steve’s pants. “Everyone else is on vacation. He has no one here to take a bullet for besides. It was a shitty liquor store robbery and Steve was, of course, being a hero.”      

“Where’s he hit?” you ask, heading over to grab a pair of gloves yourself. No one questions it.      

“Femoral artery. Seems like he was plugging his own wound until he could get help.”     

Dr. Cho is right. There’s a massive gash in his thigh that’s leaking excessively and the skin surrounding the wound is raised like Steve’s own fingers had plunged so deeply it left an imprint. Not only that, but his hand is covered in his blood. So is Bruce’s, you realize, because he had tried to plug the artery as well.      

“How is he not dead yet?” Dr. Cho more mutters to herself than to you guys. Steve’s head is lolling to the side and his lips are an awful shade of white. His eyes are fluttering open and closed… open… closed… and he’s still mumbling random phrases. There’s a rough tug at the bottom of your stomach that pulls and pulls and there’s a weird urge to crawl onto the table to keep Steve warm.      

“He needs blood,” you say, even though all parties in the room know that as fact.     

Bruce, however, winces. “Sam’s not even in the state right now and I don’t think we have enough time to fly him-”    

“Is he Sam’s blood type? What’s his blood type? Why can’t Bucky do it? Bucky’s in Brooklyn, he can be here in five minutes if he runs.”    

Bruce starts rummaging through the upper level shelves and freezer cabinets. “Can’t mix the serums. We’ve tried.” He finally finds the blood bags, pulling them all out and spreading them across the clean tables. “It’s - shit - do we not have?”     

Dr. Cho is now covered in blood, working as fast as she can to close the wound. “What’s his blood type?”    

Bruce repeats it out loud and watches as Dr. Cho’s face falls. “I ran out yesterday. The blood drive isn’t until this weekend. I had a patient come in yesterday, I - I ran out yesterday.”     

They seem to be having their own conversation with their eyes and are too focused on each other to see you already stripping your long-sleeve shirt and wrapping that horrible blue rubber band around your upper arm. “Me. Take mine.”    

Bruce immediately shakes his head, stuttering as he tries to remove the rubber band. “Nu-uh, I don’t know if you know this but you’re human. I need two bags, three tops. I can’t just take it all from you right now!”    

“Then get me some cookies and a juice box. I don’t care how much you have to take to make him speak a coherent sentence. Do me.”    

Bruce hesitates but he rushes to the cabinets for the needles, vials, tubes, whatever - “No, do it direct.”     

Your words startle the two doctors but they don’t question it. They hook you up and poke the needle in the first vein they find, attaching the tube instead of a single vial and direct it to Steve.      

“You sure your blood matches?”     

You give Bruce a pointed look as if that isn’t something written on your dog tags or on your weekly personal reports.      

In the end, you’re told that you gave him the equivalent of two pints of blood. Not that you were awake for the second anyway but you vaguely remember Steve’s voice ringing in your ears. You’re not awake as he regains consciousness or to witness his very confused glare at seeing you in the bed next to him.     

He swears he heard small mumblings… ‘If you die because of some highway robbery, Rogers --- I’m never gonna fucking stop bullying your grave --- haunt it’.... ‘Stay --- with me, please’.... ‘---supposed to apologize first’....   

He tests the waters, mumbling a name he only says with annoyance nowadays. But now, it’s gently said. Soft, a whisper that sounds like a fractured hymn. 

Present Day, 2025, 12:05 pm

     There isn’t a set emotion in the world that seems appropriate. What are people supposed to feel when they’re singled out and chosen to suffer a life of pain? Self-hate? Pity for themselves? Anger? Sadness? Remorse? Nothing?

You really don’t know what you’re feeling. In the middle of rubbing vaseline on your newly acquired cuts and scrapes and bandaging yourself up, biting on a belt as Bucky set your shoulder back in place, and lying with Steve discussing everything and nothing all night after your promise - well, what the hell are you supposed to feel? As inevitable as it was considering he had ordered you shot before, the one feeling you know you feel is betrayed. Because even though Ernesto has proven himself evil time and time again, to his own flesh and blood, there was still a small part in your heart that didn’t think any parent truly wanted to inflict pain on their children. And your heart keeps proving itself wrong again and again.

“You just... jumped out of the car?”

Ramirez’s voice snaps you from your inner thoughts. He was let out of custody this morning. He’s currently filling in anyone who asks about the shipment, about Ernesto’s future plans, about the role he thought he had.

“Against my better judgment, but yeah.”

He chuckles and grins like he’s a kid hearing the best story ever told. “That’s what superheroes do. At least, what I’ve seen in the movies. John Wick, Bond, esos tipos.”

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this before, Omar,” there’s a teasing tone, “but I’m a fucking Avenger.”

That makes him laugh louder and in turn pulls one from you. “Ya se, ya se. I’ve known you since you were born. It’s weird hearing stories about you saving the world and jumping from bombed cars.”

“Mm, wait until you hear about that time I went into space and landed on another planet. Or time traveled. Take your pick.”

He’s stunned into silence and after a few more praises, he lets you return to typing out your report. There are plenty of other agents around for him to busy himself with. The base is tiny and not at all what you expected, but it’s secure enough to fit Torres, Sam, Bucky, and about fifteen other agents as they prepare for tonight. The plan you and Steve outlined was simple: attend the wedding, butter everyone up, send Steve away to help Ernesto retrieve and move the shipment, Scott and Sam will infiltrate, Bucky would be on standby to help you fight, and the rest of the team at base will begin arrests and sweeps. If everything goes according to plan, at least.

It’s easy to speak negatively about these things - there really were only two ways this could go.

You finish your report and go to stand, only realizing a minute later walking through the base that Ramirez is following you. You send him a funny look over your shoulder and he returns with a small smile of his own.

“Tengo preguntas!”

You stop and let him catch up. “Hmm?”

“Okay,” he starts, motioning his hands wordlessly until he could form them. “Are you and the Captain actually... juntos? Or just Avenger partners?”

“That’s personal, Omar,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “But I guess? That’s weird discussing with you.”

He nods in agreement. “It’s okay, I was just curious. So, him being mad was just an act? He doesn’t really hurt and threaten you, no?” He’s treading lightly, but you can already see the cartel mind turning. He would order Steve’s execution if he had to, even if he believed it to be morally wrong in some situations.

“Never. It was just an act for Ernesto.”

“Ah, Dios. Thank goodness.”

“Yeah, keep your men in line. It’s fine.”

He chuckles at that. “And the other Avengers?”

“They’re my family, Omar,” you grin wide, waking slower for the old man to keep up. “They would never hurt me.”

“That’s good, but not what I was asking.”

“Oh?”

“What are they like?”

Handing your report to one of the agents at a handful of monitors, you laugh loudly. “Do you want to meet them officially?”

“Aye, I know my daughters would like that...”

You raise an eyebrow.

“But I would like to meet them, too.”

“That’s what I thought. C’mon.”

The rest of the team are all relaxing and discussing the past days events in the lounge area, which is really just a glorified break room. Bucky’s still in his morning sweats same as Scott, Torres is already suited up, and both Sam and Steve are wearing their Avenger gear (minus Sam’s wings and Steve’s battered shield). Steve is the first one to notice you enter and he instantly gets up from his chair to greet you with a kiss on the cheek.

“Gross,” Bucky mumbles.

“You’ve been trying to get me a girl for over ninety years, Buck. And now that I’ve finally got someone who likes me back, you bully me for it?”

“Who’s bullin’? I said the same thing when Agent Carter smooched you in the weapon’s room and you thought you were alone.”

You pat Steve’s shoulder. “Think about it, Rogers. When Bucky settles down with someone, you have free reign.”

Steve pulls a thin smile and glances back at Bucky. “I’ll make them hate you.”

“Love and hate are the same thing, pal. It worked out for you two.”

“Okay, we’re done. Everyone, Omar wanted to formally introduce himself.”

Ramirez gives a shy wave. Torres returns it. It’s kind of hilarious to witness. Here you all are, Avengers and some standing over six feet with one of the most wanted drug lords in the world, and the all mighty drug lord is shy. 

“I’m so sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” You notice how when Ramirez speaks to strangers or those he deems good people on his side, his accent is a little thicker. It’s like he wants to speak only in Spanish other than the Spanglish you were all accustomed to. “But it really is an honor to meet you all.”

Scott is the first to stand and shake his hand. “Sorry I pointed my gun at you, man. Habit.”

Ramirez chuckles, “Sorry I broke into your room.”

Steve interjects, “Thank you, though. For telling us what more we’re fighting for.”

Ramirez nods, a solemn look spreading over his face. “The minute I found out, I didn’t know who to tell. I’m lucky you were never truly on his side.”

“And what will you do after all this is over?” Bucky stands. “How do we know we can truly trust you?”

Ramirez sneaks a glance at you and you raise your hands. “Hey, I’ve got the same questions as him.”

Ramirez must know he isn’t getting out of this one because he answers quickly. “Drugs have a market where people choose. I just meet supply and demand protocols. I don’t do the unnecessary violence or blackmail. There is no need to. People will always want drugs.”

There’s a round of agreement throughout the small room. Ramirez continues, “But smuggling humans? There is no choice, nothing moral about it, it’s evil.”

“But people get addicted to drugs. They die from them everyday,” Sam argues.

“I produce and deal what you American’s call weed. Ernesto does the big stuff, as does White. I’m,” he laughs a little. “I’m their weed guy.”

“That is true,” you confirm. You’ve moved and packaged Ramirez’s product before. “Literally just weed.”

Everyone seems deep in thought, like their processing Ramirez’s words and the weight behind them. Ramirez ran with the big boys and was the biggest distributor of marijuana in Mexico and America alike, but he never messed with any other product. Besides producing, selling, and smuggling illegal weed, his only other crimes included conspiring with Ernesto on how to get the product over state lines.

“Okay,” Steve starts. “So how is tonight gonna work? We have to discuss that.”

Ramirez bows his head. “You’ve allowed me safety, you’ve listened to me speak, and you’re saving both my life and my daughter’s. If you must arrest me, then you arrest me.”

“The minute you’re transferred to a prison with less security, Ernesto’s men will get you,” you reason, already shaking your head no.

Ramirez gives a nonchalant shrug, “But you’ll get him and White. That’s all that matters.”

You look over to Steve for some other ideas, but like you he doesn’t have any. No one seems to have any.

Torres matches his shrug and his voice is small as he speaks, almost like his next idea is insane. “We can always put him in the Raft.”

Everyone’s eyes go wide.

“That’s where all the enhanced humans go, no?” Ramirez is stunned. “Do I count?”

“We’ve got no idea,” Steve rubs at his chin, looking at you for confirmation he knows you don’t have. “But it’s an idea.”

     The plan is no longer singular. Fury had sent his best field agents for the job, the ones with the best aim, the ones with great strategic planning. Although you and Steve were still in charge, it was no longer just your mission. Your mission was to arrest the big three, big four when including Seda. That was it.

The plan goes like this: half the team will be focused on the venue itself, hidden in the shadows and monitoring the big three as well as your mics, and will aid you in the physical fight and arrests. Some are on the ground while others in the sky. Afterwards, they’ll sweep the estate and collect stolen property or priceless artworks. The other half is split into two, where one of those halves will be spread out for miles to capture anyone that might slip through, like guests who were on the most wanted list or guests that have helped Ernesto in the past. The other part of that half will intercept the shipment (once Steve radios in the location), save the hostages, and shut down the routes. 

They instruct Ramirez to call Ernesto and to ask him if there’s a vegetarian menu offered. Ernesto responds with only a muttered groan and in a wild turn of events, asks if Ramirez can call you to make sure you arrive earlier than expected to make sure Jackeline walks down that aisle. He’s completely serious. Not only does Ramirez play along, but Ernesto doesn’t give any indication that he knows about the car bomb. So the team makes a judgement call: this was only Seda’s doing.

Ramirez is then told that the Raft is not an option; both the US and Mexican government want him and the only reason he hasn’t been arrested is because he still has many cards to play. The more he helps, the less time he’ll get. 

One thing is known: this is the biggest mission anybody has been on in over two years. 

      Bucky remembers things in bits and pieces. Sometimes he’ll be minding his own business, enjoying this new world and the countless amenities it offers, and remember exactly where he was on the hottest day of the year in 1936. He remembers the blistering heat, boiling his once pale skin and giving him that beautiful olive he was now known for. He remembers the way his tongue dried almost instantly the moment he stepped outside and how he asked his next door neighbor, Ms. Kranshall, for a cup of water before work. He remembers her massive square glasses and how they nudged the tip of her nose as she nodded sweetly at him. He remembers her high but smoky voice and the way she patted his shoulder as he drank the cup down. 

The first time he remembered Natalia was around the same time he remembered Steve. He sees a flash of ember in strands, speed almost matching his, and he sees those panicked green eyes he was once all too familiar with. 

She was twelve when he first met her, forced to throw her around like a ragdoll until her ribs were bruised and her spirit broken. He went again and again, and when he wasn’t forced he would teach her how to fight properly and how to shield her most vulnerable areas. Scared as she was, she never showed it in those private moments, and decided to follow his lead in most things. And she learned to be fierce, no matter how hard he hit, and he still remembers the look in her eyes and the pull of her young face as they yanked him away for cryo before he could congratulate her on winning her first fight. 

The first time he remembered you was when you leapt onto T’Challa’s back as the chase neared, tackling the young prince become king, and watched with sad eyes as both him and Steve climbed onto the jet for Siberia. He remembers your clumsy punches when you fought him with half his brain and how he kicked you so hard you flew. He also remembers how when you took that kick for Steve, the sound of his wail almost deafened the soldier. 

Everytime he remembers something, a memory, no matter how strangled it may arise, the twinge in his chest is good. He’s remembering. He’s James Buchanan Barnes.

He feels that same twinge when a face full of freckles greets him at the entrance, documents raised above her head in a show of selfish glee, and a pep in her step that tells him she remembers him too. 

“Sergeant Barnes!” Maribel gives a toothy grin. “Never thought I’d see you again!”

Bucky tilts his chin up and rests the tip of tongue between his incisors. “What? Hydra wasn’t enough for you, you gotta infiltrate the Mexican cartel, too?”

She scoffs playfully, “Other way ‘round.”

He snatches the documents from her hand and leads her inside. “I hope you got something here. Steve put a lotta faith in you.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Y/N does. That’s enough for me.”

Rolling her eyes, she snatches the documents back to turn the pages herself. “Follow me. We need to chat in private.”

“Shouldn’t we get-”

“I’d rather you know, and you tell them later. No audience.”

This causes Bucky to tense. He follows her in further and closes the door behind them both. 

The left side of her face had less freckles back in 2012, he remembers, and now she’s covered in them.     

Bucky remembers things slowly, but he remembers them. 

      It’s cold outside, air bruising your skin, and there are hundreds of goosebumps now erupting. You joke with yourself that in the end, you’ll most likely have to ask Steve for his jacket and ruin your overall look but hey, you’ll be warm. The wedding doesn’t start until five in the evening and it’s one’oclock right now, and there are white clouds in the sky instead of gray and the songs of some desperate birds searching for their lunch near your ears. It at least drowns out the constant noise of the agents hammering away at each other and preparing for tonight.   

It makes your stomach roll: these agents are putting their lives at risk because of you. 

     You stepped through the discarded papers and tried not to leave your footprint anywhere important. His office was empty, left in a state of purgatory, and his lamp was still on. It’s like he stepped out for a minute.

You picked everything up: pens, computers, books, chairs. Under everything, there was dust. 

He really did die.

As much as you wanted to step on his remains and spit on him, you couldn’t. The gash in your heart was still open and bleeding for everyone else and there was no room left for anger. You were indifferent, for lack of a better word. Frustrated?

A paper crumbles outside his office. No one had followed you in - a week after the snap and every single person on earth was still searching for loved ones or running from something - so no, no one else was supposed to be here. Mexico had been hit hard, it’s government shattered, and every cartel was picking up pieces or tearing the world further apart. There was no line anymore. 

You twisted around and aimed your gun at the door, immediately lowering it when you saw Natasha raise her hands. She had this embarrassed smile on her face like she knew she had been caught.

“I meant to say hi over your mic. But you turned it off.”

You sighed deeply and dramatically shrugged your shoulders. “Well, I’m here. Guess who’s not.”

Natasha only nods and steps further into the room. She looks over the same things you did. “He’s gone? Good, good riddance.”

“But his death means nothing if trillions of others died also. It’s so fucking typical of him. If he’s going down, he takes everyone else with him.”

“He didn’t take them, Y/N.”

“I want to be happy,” you spit out through clenched teeth. “I want to feel relief. The fucking bastard is finally gone and I can’t even enjoy it properly.”

Natasha takes one more look at the hallway before letting her guard down almost completely. She envelopes you in a hug, squeezing tighter each time your breath hitches. “Hey, listen to me.”

“He’s gone.”

“I know,” Natasha’s voice is low and reminds you of the gentle hum of record static. “He’s gone and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

“But everyone-”

“No,” she pulls away and places both her palms over your neck. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

It takes a while before you’re nodding along, repeating her words gently.

“You’re more than the pain he inflicted. You’re more than his name or crimes. You’re worth more than his impact ten times over. He can’t hurt you anymore. I know everyone’s gone, and we’re going to fight like hell to bring them back, but in this little moment, this little thread you can pull - pull it all out - he can’t hurt you anymore.”

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would you do without Natasha?

     The grass beneath your bare feet calms you down. It’s tendrils are a little ticklish and there are droplets of silver morning water fog melting as they touch your skin. Focusing on the feeling isn’t enough to get you out of your own head and for a wild second, you think the God of Thunder is going to come up behind you and hold your hand. It’s peaceful out here, but what you wouldn’t give to see him again. 

The day before Steve and Carol returned the stones, he had been here. He did as he promised: the second the flood of happiness extinguished like a Christmas candle, he found you settled in the mass of pillows with only instrumental music playing. He left for two cups of tea, sat in silence with you as you both drank, and whispered a strangled ‘I’m sorry’ as if you weren’t meant to hear it. Apologizing for someone who did come back, and you for someone who didn’t. 

‘You know I don’t regret what we did. We brought everyone back.’ 

‘Don’t try and justify your sadness. Not at all, not with me.’ His voice was stern and his eyes serious.

‘I’m sorry he didn’t come back.’

His eyes had closed, as if he was expecting that apology, and he looked out the window where the sun was just barely rising, shining on him and him alone. ‘I’m sorry, too.’

There are footsteps, though. Heavy ones, footsteps that announce his upcoming presence on purpose so as to not startle anymore. Bucky was too generous for his own good. 

“Had a visitor.”

You remain silent as Bucky sits next to you, looking up from his spot and expecting you to sit as well. “There’s water on the grass.”

“There’s water in the air in this godforsaken state, now sit down.” A push of laughter escapes your lungs but you follow his instructions anyway. 

You sit in silence for a few minutes, admiring the way the pine trees bend slightly with the gusts of wind and how the birds have changed their pitch. You expect Bucky to speak first so you occupy that time by playing with the strands of wet grass. 

“In 1997, I was taken out of cryo for a mission.”

You wince on accident. This wasn’t how you expected the conversation to start. 

Bucky continues, “There was this man south of the border.” He points south to prove his point. “Hydra wanted to take him out because he was interfering with the drug routes they were monitoring.”

“Hydra controlled drug routes?”

“Hydra had their heads in plenty of places. They didn’t control them, but they did monitor them.”

You shake your head in understanding. “And this man?”

Bucky sighs heavily. His eyes are focused on the gentle yellows behind the trees instead of you. “He was told to take out another man traveling through and out one of these drug routes. He made a different call.”

“Who was your visitor?”

“Maribel.”

“Wha-?” You go to stand but Bucky gently pushes your left shoulder back down. “Why are you telling me this and not her?”

“She wanted me to tell you. And I guess, in turn, you tell Steve and the rest of the team.”

“Bucky,” your voice trembles on accident. “Tell me.”

“The man I was ordered to take out was Maribel’s brother.” He chuckles at your frantic shuffling and pushes you down again. He continues, “Hey, it’s okay. She never knew him and she doesn’t hate me for what I was.”

You don’t really believe him. But his face isn’t telling you otherwise. You're stuck between wanting to dig for more information and giving him a giant bear hug. “Did you… succeed?”

“The soldier ever rarely lost.”

Your face contorts. “Bucky…”

“He disobeyed orders, Hydra didn’t like that since it disrupted the drug routes, and so I was sent to help. Hydra didn’t seem to care about the man he let go, though.” Bucky shrugs and starts playing with the grass behind your hand. “The thing was, Maribel’s brother had been doing this a long time. Ernesto was on Hydra’s radar but in a good way. Maribel’s brother was also given very specific orders from one other person - their mother.”

The story pieces are all discarded haphazardly, pieces that are from different boxes and don’t seem to entangle properly. 

“She told him to let the man go. Because this man was an American, and killing an American on Mexican soil was something that was impossible to hide from the claws of the law. So, this American made it back on US soil safely and was never heard from again. Until 1998, when he tried to re-enter Mexico under a false name but with one purpose. To see his newborn baby girl.”

The yellow behind the pine trees fades into orange. 

“Are you saying-?”

“Maribel’s mother kept everything your mother left her when she tried to cross the border herself. Your real birth certificate, her real birth certificate, you.”

Bucky looks over finally, sad smile and all. “Maribel thinks, and now I think, that Ernesto isn’t your real father.”

There are so many questions formulating at the base of your skull that you don’t really take the time to absorb the news. “What did she bring you? What was in those papers?”

Bucky seems startled that your reaction wasn’t one of shock. “Like I said, Maribel’s mother kept a lotta things.” He pauses momentarily before speaking again. “Blood results was one of them. Still trying to authenticate them.  The American was a doctor, after all.”

“A doctor,” you whisper. 

“A doctor. He changed his name but he’s alive. Maribel’s checked.”

“Why would she tell me this now? Why now just hours before the wedding? Isn’t that why you guys didn’t tell me about what was really in the shipment?”

Bucky winces and his expression tells you he’s sorry. 

You continue, “Why now? Why does it even matter anymore?”

He inspects you quickly, scanning your features for any signs of discomfort. “You’re okay? I thought this would surprise you more.”

The chuckle you release is dry, kind of harsh. “It actually answers a fuckload of questions. Like, number one, why he fucking hates me.”

His eyebrows scrunch together. “You think he knows?”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s a super fucking asshole instead of just a fucking asshole.”

Bucky pauses again and smiles up at the sky. The clouds are white and extra large today, and he suddenly remembers the taste of that mini popcorn he had bought and shared with his little sister Becca… Becks… while watching Snow White and the Seven Dwarves at the theater. The salt and butter had stuck to Becca’s fingers and she had wiped them on Bucky’s sweater. He remembers scolding her for that but giving her a napkin in between his giggle fit. He feels the same swell in the meat of his heart listening to you. “We don’t deserve you. You’re like the moon. Always there, shaping yourself into what that person needs, crater after crater beat into you and yet, you move the tides.”

The little snort that leaves your nose hurts a little. “That’s pretty damn poetic for this moment of ‘you’re not the father!’”

Bucky bites his lip and smiles toward the yellow and orange hues. “Like the moon.”

      The hotel had replaced the door, no questions asked. The reason Sam decided to bust open the door instead of using the very functional key you had given Torres? No one knows. But the poor receptionist was told that you couldn’t possibly change rooms because this was top secret business and you absolutely wanted to slap Scott upside the head for worrying her. So they fixed the bolts and gave you all new keys. 

Didn’t matter much anyway since you weren’t sleeping here tonight. You had already packed and made the beds. 

You lay your dress and Steve’s dress attire on the respective beds. The dress sent over was a backless red silk, spaghetti strapped and slit on the left side - you’ve wanted to wear it since it arrived when Scott did. 

Steve knocked before entering the room. You almost laughed at the gentlemanly aspect of it. “Thought for sure they’d have kept you for another hour at least.”

“I gotta change sometime. That your dress?” Steve shrugs off his uniform and climbs on top of his freshly made bed.  

“That’s my dress. Sort of skimpy for a wedding, no?” You hold it up to show him the front and back.

“Does ‘skimpy’ mean bad?”

“Means slutty.”

He gives you this disappointed look, like he’s judging your vocabulary. “I wouldn’t use that word. So no.”

You silently apologize and move the dress over to the end of your bed. Everyone else was also getting ready for tonight. Agents were posing as local police, many infiltrated the wait staff, suits were being double-checked for any malfunctions. There was so much going on, but all was relaxed in your room. Steve smiles at you from his bed, head resting in his palm as he leans up to stare at you. It’s impossible not to blush under his stare, so you move to climb into his bed. You lay down with your feet to his head, the sides of your hips pressing together; just two upside down puzzle pieces. He chuckles and goes to lay on his back, right arm coming up to lay rested on top of your right thigh. 

“All this week I thought I wasn’t ready.” You’ve had no more nightmares. “But I am. I’m ready to end this.”

He runs his fingers delicately along your thigh. “I’m ready to help.” He sighs deeply and cranes his neck to try and meet your gaze. “We’ll make sure they get maximum time.”

“You know that’s not our call.”

“Still.”

You rest for another few minutes, gentle touches calming you. His body is so warm, emitting sweet thoughts like the beginning of spring heat, and it’s impossible not to curl up into it. Steve breaks the comfortable silence, “What are you thinking about?”

You suck in a breath and tell him the truth. “That in the matter of like… five days, you and I are basically lovers now.”

“Lovers?”

“Lovers.”    

He laughs out loud and goes to sit up.  “I intend on taking you out when we get back home.”

Lifting your head, you rest on your elbows and grin at him. “Oh? And where are you planning on taking me?”

He thinks for a second before pressing his lips together and giving up. “I have to ask Peter or Wanda. I have no idea where you go during the day to eat.”

You laugh, “Seriously? I could’ve sworn you tagged along once or twice.”

“Nope. I always refused.”

You frown slightly, “Riiight.” Not wanting to rehash the reasons why, you try to soften any wrong feelings about what that implies. “I’m sure you’ve been, though. I take Bucky places, too. Ask him.”

“Mmm, I have my pride. Can’t have Bucky thinkin’ he knows more about my girl than I do.”

You smile largely now and hope no lipstick rubbed off on your teeth. “Your girl?”

Steve averts his eyes like he’s just now asking for your name and if you’d like to go dancing. There’s a beautiful scarlet glow painting his pale cheeks. “Like I said, I’m taking you out and asking properly.”

“We’ve already surpassed third base. I remember it vividly.”

His smile falls comically and he turns to grab a throw pillow to smack you with it a couple times. “Crude! Crude as always. Goddamn.”

“I’m sorry! Hey, I’m sorry!” 

He stops his attack and pulls you into his chest. He warms your back instantly. “So, you’ll let me take you out?”

“I really, really like french fries,” you hum lightly and tilt your head back to lean into his shoulder. 

“That narrows it down, thanks.”

You chuckle due to his sarcastic tone. He rubs his hands up and down your arms. An idea formulates while in the warmth of his body. “You know what I really want to do after we finish with this?”

“What’s that?”

You tell him honestly. “Rent a cabin. Spend a Christmas there, maybe. Catch some fuckin’ fish. Experience the snow properly.”

His eyebrows furrow like he’s dissecting such a claim. “I… wasn’t expecting that.”

You shrug, “Sounds cool though, right?”

“Got room for one more?” He looks down to meet your gaze and there’s a glint of hope shimmering in the blue of his eyes.

       “Nat… Natasha.”

Natasha took in a sharp exhale as she lifted her head from the desk, left cheek numb and pink. Steve shot her a funny grin and continued shaking her shoulder until she fully opened her eyes. She slaps his hand away with a huff of laughter. 

“Come here to do your laundry? You know, there’s only so many times I can help prevent shrinking shirts.”

Steve scoffs, “I used to do laundry by hand. I can figure out a few buttons.”

“You would think.”

Steve rolls his eyes and bumps her shoulder with the palm of hand before speed-walking into the kitchen. “It’s one of those days.” He opens the high cabinets and pulls a few vodka bottles. 

Natasha pushes down whatever was starting to eat at her. She calms her deep breaths and rises from her chair. No words needed to be exchanged. She makes her way over to pull two glasses from the same high cabinets. 

Steve watches her a little hesitantly, but she has that lopsided smile that pinches through only one cheek and her eyes are the slightest bit swollen from her power nap, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. She tilts her head to the other side of the kitchen, that lopsided grin gracing her bare feet. Steve fumbles through a few cleaning supplies and some plastic bags before he finds the bottle. 

“I hid it after… after Thor had that meltdown a year ago.”

Now, he was second guessing. It was a small bottle, only half left, but half a bottle of Asgardian liquor was enough to knock the God on his knees. For Steve, a few sips would do the same. But he needed it, he needed it, god help him. It’s been four years, he needs it. “Be my designated driver?”

“How about you spend the night? Y/N wanted to start a new show anyway.”

“I’ll be passed the fuck out during the opening credits.”

“But you’ll be here.”

Steve sighs and pops open the bottle. Natasha puts her hand up to stop him from pouring, “Check under that sink again.”

His eyebrows pinch together but he does as instructed. More cleaning products… more cleaning products. He tilts his head to look at the corners and there it was: a small, pink paper airplane taped mid-flight. Steve hunched his shoulders to grab it and crawled out carefully. “You know, you’re not supposed to tell me where you hide them.”

“Well, I felt bad! I’ve found like fifteen of your blue ones and how many do you have of mine?”

“That’s besides the point-”

“Say it. You’ve found six.”

His cheeks turn hot. “I’m not here all the time.”

“Excuses.”

“I leave mine in good spots. You probably got better eyes or something.”

Natasha laughs, loud and from her chest. “Sure. But hey - I’ll promise you somethin’.”

Steve pours the Asgardian liquor into his glass and straight vodka into Natasha’s. “What do you have in mind?”

“You find more than me by the end of this year, and I’ll take that vacation.”

Steve takes his first sip and tries not to pull a hard face. “You’re on. But what if you win?”

Natasha raises her glass and clinks it with his. He wants to apologize for forgetting to toast but her eyes are playful and forgiving. “You come with me. I’m not the only one who needs it.”

“So, I win regardless?”

She takes a sip and pulls a funny face. “Easiest battle, don’t ya think?”

They’re off their right minds twenty minutes into drinking and the common area is chaos. Pillows are thrown, the TV somehow ends up with dozens of fingerprints, and they’ve broken a couple flower pots. The cushions of the couch know Natasha’s bare feet and Steve’s boots; the walls fail to constrict their loud singing; Rhodey has already snuck past them to get himself a snack undetected. 

‘And so I cry sometimes when I’m lyin’ in bed, just to get it all out what’s in my head!’

‘Hit the high note, Rogers!’

‘When you do, I will!... I scream from the top of my lungs-’

‘What’s goin’ on? And I say, ‘hey!’ ‘hey!’ I say ‘hey!’ What’s goin’ on?’

Steve’s still clear-headed enough to twirl Natasha around. She’s flexible enough to climb onto his shoulders.

‘I pray every single day - for a revolution!’

She’s starting to slur her words and Steve wonders if that blond streak in her hair was there last week. 

‘The story of my life! I take her home, 

I drive all night to keep her warm and time, 

Is frozen!

The story of my life, I give her hope, 

I spend her love until she’s broke inside!

The story of my life.’

She can longer feel her toes but seeing Steve let go makes her so incredibly happy and breaks her heart. I needed this too, she thinks.

‘So, bye-bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry

And them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singin', "This'll be the day that I die

This'll be the day that I die!”’

She’s all muscle and bone and blood and real. What would Steve do without Natasha?

     “You wanna come?”

“Sure. I’ll cut down the trees for wood. Have a real fireplace.” He’s serious, you realize. Like, really truly serious. 

Your heart swells with excitement and some other feeling you can’t quite place. But it’s good, like really good. The sigh you release is full of sweet wonder. “A real Christmas tree.”

Steve tightens his grip around your arms. “December’s right around the corner. Trees should be ready and standing tall.”

It’s almost too much to imagine. You have the sudden urge to talk specifics, to plan out this vacation. A beautiful, rustic cabin with only a coffee maker brought from the outside century, knitted quilts, real snow, Steve’s body heat, Christmas lights… inviting Sam, Scott, Wanda, Peter, and Bucky down for Christmas dinner and presents. A whole sleepover filled with ghost stories, candle burning, board games, Christmas movies. You’re up and tucking your knees under yourself to look down at Steve in an instant. “You’d throw on that checkered shirt, grow out your beard even more, and chop down a few trees for me? With me?”

“There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be,” Steve says, eyes crinkling. For a second, he’s worried you’ll realize that he’s quoted your letter. But that same moment, you’re giggling with excitement over your future plans.

“Well, we lasted a week here without killing each other. The holidays always hold a few surprises.”

Steve picks up another pillow.

       Business is not conducted during the church service. It feels normal, with half the guests attending the service and watching the happy couple exchange vows, while the other half only arrives for the party. 

Jackeline’s dress is modern with a mix of vintage - simple, with long sleeves of lace and fabric that isn’t entirely white but with hints of beige; the dress dips lower in the back than it does in the front, and it’s tight near the waist but loose as it drapes down her long legs. Her hair is left loose and her make-up is heavy, and she illuminates under the sun rays that burst through stained cathedral glass. You don’t even pay mind to Ernesto and Seda seated in the aisle in front of you - not when Jackeline looks the way she does. 

As the service ends, Steve tells you to wait until most of the guests exit. The priest eyes him warily, inspecting his young face and build and obvious persona. He says nothing, but he places a gentle hand over the cross on his chest as he follows the guests out. Steve stands, and out of respect dips his fingers into the holy water provided near the heavy wooden doors. He signs the father, the son, and the holy ghost and dips his fingers in again to sign the same on you. With a silent thank you and tender wipe to your forehead, you don’t question it. He’s not Catholic, or at least you don’t think, but you know he does it for what’s to come. No matter your beliefs, he just wants something, someone, to protect you. You turn back to the cathedral and grip the door as you bend down to one knee and tip your head. 

       Everything is grander, that’s for sure. The decorations are tripled; the violet lights are reflecting like diamonds off every marble and glass surface; the chandelier’s are no longer gold sculptures but diamond; the clay flowers hanging from the ceiling yesterday are now a part of the centerpieces, squeezed in with the largest bouquet of roses and violets; the live bands (because of course there are two) are each still setting up as everyone is getting seated; and there are about fifty round tables circling the large dance floor. There’s still a nice view of the lake and the pine trees ahead, and the tarp was abandoned as there was no rain in the forecast. All in all, and there were a thousand other things you could focus on but didn’t have the energy to, everything was beautifully put together.

Jackeline wasn’t lying when she said half of Mexico was attending. Besides family, there were celebrities in attendance, famous musicians who were simply guests and not performing, family of some of the other biggest drug lords from both countries (minus Europe), and a couple politicians who dipped before the new couple even walked through the doors after seeing Steve. But Steve worked his magic like he had yesterday and had everyone eating out of the palm of hand in pure amazement. He even had a famous actress hanging off his shoulder in under three minutes. Walking away to go congratulate Jackeline, Steve doesn’t miss the quick, sarcastic flick of your middle finger aimed in his direction.  

“You’d tell me if you needed my help, right?” Jackeline asks after a while, bottom lip dripping champagne. She wipes it gingerly, careful not to smudge her pink lipstick. 

“I would if there was anything wrong,” you respond truthfully. She pauses to swallow her sip and squints. She follows your gaze to Steve, whose right arm is being tugged by a girl who looks about twelve with five multi-colored bows trailing down her french braid, and who is also trying hard not to blush at the very attractive actress he can’t seem to get rid of. 

“You’re going to stop him, aren’t you?”

You glance to your left, but it isn’t really a question. Jackeline knows. “Yeah.”

She nods and tilts her chin up, eyes still on Steve. “Make him watch as you burn it down.”  You know she’s referring to Ernesto. She continues, “Every last bit of it.”

Smiling down at your feet, you raise your glass at nothing in particular. Just to salute the night air and whoever is watching. A few seconds pass as you both watch the guests enjoy the music and appetizers. Jackeline shuffles in her heels but she doesn’t seem to want to leave your side just yet. “You run, you understand?”

She’s only momentarily startled by your words. “Okay.”

“I never meant to leave you here, Jackie. I just had to find a way out first.”

“You found a loophole,” she chuckles, but the next moment she’s serious. “There is no way out.”

“Might not be,” you admit, downing your glass in one shot. “But I know this. He can’t hurt you anymore.”     

      You don’t exchange more than a few words with Steve before he’s called by Ernesto’s men and motioned toward those massive dry lava rock doors; doors that don’t muffle sound but are strong enough to withstand a bullet wound. You watch him leave with them, and he shoots you a smile over his shoulder to simply look at you. Your eyes swell only slightly, burning the corners and blurring everything. He’s bright and brilliant, walking head first into Hell and shining like the bolts of Zeus.

Steve has faced giants before, from all backgrounds and all worlds. He has blocked their punches, taken near mortal injuries; stared them in the face with every ounce of anger and determination his cells could produce. There was always this whispered voice in his head that warned him of the last day he would pick up that shield. In 1945, the voice was loud and raging as he drove that nosediving plane into the Arctic. Over the last few years, however, the voice had quieted and let Steve ponder his fate himself. Steve swears the voice, or rather his own conscience, is getting tired. 

He listens intently, responding only when spoken to, and prays his mic is picking up every bit of this conversation. Ernesto commanded the room as he screamed orders in both English and Spanish. His men fell in line; some as determined as the old man, some quiet, some bothered. Didn’t matter what the orders were. Steve noticed the few who would glance at one another and speak their distaste with their wandering eyes. And when Ernesto would speak directly to Steve, the same men would pinch their lips into a thin line and glare. 

The shipment had arrived mid-conversation and as men were sent out to do their jobs, Ernesto kept Steve behind. I need you to stay with me until the shipment is secure and can be moved - you’re my bodyguard, Ernesto had told him, confident and only slightly bending his back in discomfort from the weight of the day. Steve agrees, and hears Bucky mention how they have eyes on the shipment from the sky. 

Steve stays by Ernesto’s side even when Ramirez is called in. He’s prepared for a bloodbath, for two big men to cement their graves in this tiny office, but it doesn’t happen. Or at least, it doesn’t happen yet. Ernesto regards Ramirez as an old friend and finally trusts him enough to tell him what the shipment contained. Steve isn’t surprised, however, when Ernesto takes nasty satisfaction at Ramirez’s horrified expression. Because even though Ramirez had already known, the confirmation adds a multitude of terror. Steve can feel his palms sweating. 

As expected, Ernesto tells Ramirez that he plans to use his lands for his gain. The safe thing to do would have been to agree, to nod along, and to live in the knowledge that the shipment most likely wouldn’t head out. But Ramirez, for some reason Steve can’t fathom, stands up and says no. 

Steve understands now; the odd shaking of your shoulders even when your face was completely blank and emotions calm. He watches the beads of sweat drip from Ernesto’s forehead onto the tip of his nose; he watches the way his chest heaves as his voice becomes louder; he watches until he can’t take anymore and he enlarges the shield with Scott’s tech and tells Ernesto to move away from the other man. Steve understands now - the man really is scary, even if he wants to admit it or not.

      “You really are a phenomenal actor.”

Swaying slowly, you try not to step on Seda’s feet as he guides you across the dance floor. The music is calmer than it was five minutes ago, the guests are enjoying dinner and conversing, and Steve had told you fifteen minutes ago that he would be right back. Ernesto had sent you a malicious wink, but you knew better. Steve’s name was written in blue and Ernesto’s real target had to be you. 

“Acting with what? Acting that I enjoy this dance? Acting like I respect you?” Your upper lip twitches into a teasing smile. “Or acting like I don’t know it was you who planted that bomb?”

He matches your smile, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes. His grip around your waist tightens. “Acting like you’re really on our side.”

Lowering your voice just a fraction, you lean in, top of your head level with his chin. “I’m on Ernesto’s side. You almost had me and my Captain blown up.”

His left hand is settled on your shoulder and he uses the opportunity to dig his nails in. All around him, his men are watching. “How did you get away?”

You give a dry laugh. “You think that was my first bomb? It was childsplay.”

Seda scoffs, “You speak of this Avenger business like I don’t know who you are. You’re still that scared little girl who hid in her room when alien’s fell from the sky.”

“I may be. But there’s a difference between you and I. I actually stared them in this face and won.”

“The second time, maybe”

Sticks and stones, but goddamn did those words always hurt. Blame goes a long way but you and your team are used to keeping it close to home. “Why do you want me dead?”

His scowl deepens and the wrinkles by his eyes crinkle over each other as he squints down at you. “The Avengers are not secretly on our side. Tony Stark never was but Ernesto loves to tell people otherwise. Same about your Captain. You’ve been playing us for years.”

“What evidence do you even have? For years, we’ve done nothing but clear the roads for you,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief. 

He unwraps his arm from around your waist and sets both hands around your upper arms. He’s pressing down as hard as he can but still loose enough not to draw unwanted attention. He breathes a sharp exhale, and the puff of air hits your cheeks. “I don’t know what happened to my men after you got what you deserved. They were good men and just like that, erased.” He smirks. “I know you had something to do with it.”

A guest with bright red hair laughs loudly to your side as she is twirled around by her partner. It’s not as vibrant as you’re used to, but you still imagine that lopsided smile you hadn’t seen in forever. “Does it matter? You know what they did, so why is my hypothetical revenge chastised?”

“Tell me right now that none of your Avenger friends did your dirty work. Tell me your Captain’s hands are clean.”

“I promise you, my Captain is clean.” Seda doesn’t show any signs of believing you. Still, your mouth twitches into a mocking smirk. “But our once mutual friends Tony and Natalia tell another story.”

“Am I supposed to believe that two people who are dead are responsible for this? Ironic,” he grits his teeth.

You repeat, clear and true. “My Captain is clean.”

He fakes a tiny gag but you know he means his disgust. “You turned over so quickly for him. For the heroes who destroyed the world. Pathetic.”

“You really need to stop underestimating me,” you practically order, voice full of warning and annoyance. 

Seda continues, “Following orders from a fascist. Following orders from a country that only does harm.”

He turns you around as the dance instructs, a half-hearted waltz that didn’t have a beginning, middle, or end. You take that second to scan your surroundings and weigh your options. “I agree about the country part. But I don’t follow orders from the country, I follow them from my Captain.”

You’re facing him again and in those hellish eyes you see truth. “No, he’s a symbol of everything we hate. Of everything we need to destroy.”

“Touch Steve and I’ll blind you.”

His feet stop mid-step, as do yours. His eyes widen only a little, but it’s all the ammunition he needs. “I knew it.”

It’s barely a whisper, a tickle from a single strand of hair, but you catch it. No longer keeping it a secret, or rather a secret you didn’t care that you let slip, Seda now knows it was all a lie. All this time you had never referred to Steve as anything other than your Captain.

You feel the blunt head of a .22 press against your abdomen as Seda laughs, “You never could get a mission right.”

Twisting his arm and knocking the gun from his loose grip with your wrist was easy. So was catching the gun mid-air and elbowing him in the ribs. Seda falls to the floor in a state of shock, instinctively gripping his chest. You aim the gun at him and like you’ve seen in the movies, place the tip of your heel just below where his belly button would be. He releases a sharp breath and his eyes are challenging, practically begging you to dig deeper and get on with it. 

You can hear the screaming and frantic murmuring from the guests surrounding you and the leveling of guns from Seda’s men. But you’re focused on the man trying so hard not to quiver beneath you, his nasty grin spreading wider. 

“You’re alone,” he bites. “Your Steve is helping Ernesto right now, no? You’re alone.”

Your grin forms slowly, and you’re counting down the seconds you have until his men start firing, but you lean your upper body down slightly to make sure he hears you. “That’s never been a problem before. Don’t you remember?” You click back the safety as discreetly as possible. “I was trained by the Black Widow herself.”

You quickly raise the gun to shoot the closest of Seda’s men in between his collarbones, effectively starting the bloodshed. You jump out the way in a flash, rolling across the floor and behind a table. Tipping the table over is easy and it seems like a smart idea at first, until you realize the tables are all glass. The tablecloth had covered that detail, which sucks like hell, because now the bullets are shattering through and you’re forced to kick yourself away and run behind the pillars instead. The heels are kicked off at the same time you’re fishing underneath your dress. 

A stray bullet hits the pillar’s side making you squeal. It makes you work faster, though. 

Once you find the secure nano-tech ‘button’ (as Scott liked to call it), you strip as quickly as you can and slap the button on your bare shoulder. The nano-tech spirals and threads into itself as intricately as frost spreads on a window, shielding you in both metal and kevlar. 

When a storm of bullets hits the pillar and cracks the marble, you’re forced to crouch and hope Seda’s .22 and the myriad of weapons you’re now equipped with are enough. Before your thoughts can creep into a ‘last man standing’ mode, a roar of wind sweeps across the estate and between the cracked pillars, causing your loose hair to slap your face and blind you for only a second. Quickly putting your hair up and pulling the metal batons from the back of your suit, you’re met with the best sight - one that was a little late, in your opinion. 

“Kind of you to show up!” 

Sam ignores your quip as he flies into three men at once, feet first with his wings extended with the might of a guardian angel. He immediately shields runaway guests who were caught in the middle. He takes the ones on his left, you take the ones on his right. 

You let them swing first. They’re fast and pulling their punches and are clearly aiming for the end result of sticking you to the ground. But you’re quicker and deflect the punches. You manage to deliver a solid punch upward to crack the nose of one. As he reaches up as instinct, his ribs are open season. 

He falls out cold easily after your batons do their damage and the next man isn’t nearly as fast as the first. He doesn’t move enough to his right to avoid the harsh kick to his sternum. Each ambitious kick to the chest seems to demolish the man’s protective wall he’s trying desperately to keep intact, but once you give your legs a break and switch back to the batons, he doesn’t stand a chance. There are bullets raining across the venue, but Sam is shielding you and deflecting them elsewhere. It allows you the freedom to rip into whoever you think deserves it. 

You’ve got two men on your tail and after knocking their weapons from their hands, it seems like a fairer fight. The first doesn’t step back far enough to avoid your roundhouse kick and he falls hard on his ass, gasping for a lick of air. The second is closer, however, and manages to wrap you in a chokehold. Releasing yourself to fall deadweight for only a second, gravity tricks him and you use the momentum to kick up and fly over his shoulders. It’s hard to do without a wall to propel yourself off of. But your abs and thighs are clenched and you don’t quite think you’ll actually end up on this guy’s shoulders but you do. You don’t dwell on that moment of personal pride, though. Tightening your thighs, you use your upper body weight to lean downward and wring his neck. Once he’s down, you sweep your leg around across the floor to trip the other man who was just barely standing back up. With the .22, you fire point blank. 

Detaching yourself from the gore has never been much of a challenge. Eyes rolling back and clouding, limbs dangling limp after having just been full of life, bodies thumping against the floor after eating your bullets - you don’t so much as grit your teeth anymore. 

Sam is dealing with his own mess closer to where that poor cake is now destroyed, vanilla filling exposed and now two stories instead of four. The other cakes are no better. Sam pulls the trigger once more at someone charging at him and he averts his eyes. Sam, however, clenches his jaw. 

“Where’s Seda?” you shout, firing at men who are jumping out from behind tables but giving away their location before they even surprise you. 

“Lost him. I think he’s heading over to Steve!”

You look over the room and pray everyone got out safely. There are no civilians lying in their own puddle of blood, no guests begging for help, but you can never know for sure. “We need more hands. Where the hell are Scott and Bucky?”

A storm of bullets starts crashing into the tables and pillars beside you. Trying to duck doesn’t work and you’re grazed in the left arm. Sam tackles you behind the stage, wings extending further and out bending around you. 

“I’ve been shot!”

Sam can’t help the laugh that erupts from his throat because of your dramatic tone. “You’ve been grazed. The nano-tech has already rebuilt itself.”

“I don’t care, I hate being shot. It’s not nice. I’ve been hit.”

“Dramatic.”

“Y/N?” a harsh whisper sounds from under the stage tables. Watching your eyes bulge paints a mournful expression on Jackeline’s face. Julian is right beside her, pistol out but not shooting. You wonder if he knows you’re the invader.

“What in the hell are you still doing in here? I told you to run!”

“I’m sorry,” Jackeline squeals as bullets continue firing. “Everyone crowded. I was scared so I just got down.”

“Sam.”

Sam nods, already reading your mind. You had to find Steve; you couldn’t stay here. But there’s bullets still blazing in your direction and you find yourself hopping on your ass slightly each time a bullet connects to the ground beside you. The nano-tech does great in deflecting the lead but it really isn’t an invitation to get shot more times. The graze on your arm is already starting to burn. 

“Sam is going to guide you both out of here, alright? Julian, cover her. Sam will cover you.”

There’s a war going on behind Julian’s eyes. His face does a thousand things at once as he hears your orders and the scream of guns combined, but he nods. He grips Jackeline’s waist and pulls her in close, but before they can begin crawling Jackeline turns back to you. 

“Mátalo. Okay? Para nosotras dos.” She’s got this fierce determination in her eyes and her accent is as thick as can be. 

“Okay.”

Sam relays his location over his mic and who he has behind his wings, but before he can safely guide the married couple down the stage, a new wave of men enter and open fire. Sam’s wings can only take so much, and even though they’re vibranium, his suit is not. Ducking behind the table and reloading your gun, you then lift your head over to view the scene. It’s a mess and you could surely take them down hand-to-hand if you were close enough, but you’re stranded with your batons and seven bullets and a world of automatic machinery pointed at you. 

The storm of bullets pauses and every single person looks up to the sky. You thank the Gods for no rain today because the absence of a tarp allows for the quinjet to settle over the chaos and create a much needed distraction. Sam takes his leave, wings still wrapped around your sister, and you do the same. Running from behind the stage with batons lit up and tazed, you knock out the closest men. They fall in a strangle of electricity, vibrating and convulsing as each shock travels through their veins, ultimately paralyzing them for however long it turns out to be. This gains the attention of almost everyone else but before they can train their weapons back toward you, the back of the quinjet opens. There were a few tables still standing and it seemed the super soldier liked them better than the flat floor. 

The glass shatters from the impact of Bucky’s weight, glasses of champagne and plates with unfinished meals folding onto the shards. He’s dressed in his tactical gear and a dark navy blue jacket without a trusty sleeve. Even if the arm was covered and his hair was long rather than the short length it was now, the men would certainly know who just fell from the sky. Almost immediately, the men scatter. Bucky takes them down one by one, shot after shot, and decides to use his knives for the ones who don’t run. It’s tricky, but he manages to lodge his knives in the base of the spines of those who later changed their minds. 

He catches your eye after you manage to snap the neck of one of the runners. He tilts his head toward the left and watches you run to give Steve the backup he needs. 

     The mansion seems longer, wider, just generally bigger as you rush through the rooms and halls to get to Steve. The stuffed exotic animals follow your gaze and you can’t ignore them for long. There are men following you and men leaving Ernesto. You duck behind the standing polar bear and wait until the footsteps sound farther. Checking the amount of bullets in your gun, just in case, you finally flick the safety off and run.

There’s really only one thing of importance floating around the padded confines of your skull - get Steve out. Another thing you two had in common: both sacrificial idiots. But there wasn’t any way that you would give up the chance to save his life, as he would yours. Didn’t matter if the man you were protecting him from was your father or not. It hadn’t really settled, hadn’t truly digested, and you didn’t think it ever would. Because for years, this man was your father. He was the only man with that title. He wasn’t fatherly, far from it, but he had the label and that’s what you were going to focus on. It made no difference. 

You push the office door open and start stuttering over your words. You want to ask what happened, why there’s so much blood, whose blood it is, but all that comes is a fractured series of what the hell’s? The last syllables push through with necessary force, hardly intelligible, but exhaled at last. 

Ernesto is kneeling with his head hanging low and his hands behind his back, defeated. But it isn’t Steve who’s holding a gun to the back of his head - it’s Seda. 

No, Steve is in the corner clutching at his right hip and gritting his teeth, a wild look on his face that tells you he too was blindsided. He’s hurt. He’s gasping and wincing at the slightest of movements and it ignites the flame you’ll use to burn this world to the ground. It’s splitting your fucking ribs apart. 

“Don’t move!” Seda yells, gun still locked on Ernesto’s head but eyes on you. “Put the gun down.”

“Seda-”

“Put the fucking gun down!” 

Biting your tongue, you flip the gun in your hand so it’s facing downward and move to gently place it on the table. Flicking your eyes to where Steve is, you get your answer as to why he’s been so easily shot. His massive body and shield are draped over Ramirez, who is also disarmed and pissed. 

The self-righteous idiot, you think, he’s always gotta save the little guy.

“We’re gonna talk about this like the gods we are, yeah?”

Your face pulls awkwardly, “Seda, what is happening?”

“Don’t act like you’ve been on this asshole’s side the entire time now,” Seda bites, shoving the head of the gun harshly into the base of Ernesto’s neck. “Go on, tell him.”

“The shipment was intercepted,” you tell him. But you’re not just telling Seda, no, it’s the first Steve is hearing the good news and it allows him to feel a bit of relief. “You’ve both lost.”

“What have you done?” Ernesto screams, cheeks vibrating and face red with anger. He pays no mind to the gun and dares to glare at you. “Tell me!”

The top of your lip greets a run of tears and snot and it isn’t until then that you realize your hands are shaking mid-air and your throat is closing. “My mission.”

Blood or not, this man had the power to tie your thoughts into knots. He only had this power at precious moments and sadly, this was turning out to be one of them.

Seda bites out a laugh - it’s wet and bloody and scares you half to Hell. “I’m not the only one here who wants to kill you. But I’m going to beat her to it. She brought you back, I can’t have that.”

“No!” You curse inwardly at your involuntary hiccup. “We’re not here to kill you!”

“Oh?” Seda raises the gun at you. “What’s the endgame? Que mas necesitas?”

“I don’t need anything. The shipment is intercepted. The estate is on lockdown. Your routes are down. You’re cornered. It’s over.” You let your shoulders drag just a little. “For both of you.”

Surprisingly, Seda doesn’t pull the trigger when Ernesto charges toward you. He doesn’t pull it when Ernesto wraps his hands around your throat, either. 

It’s instinct for you to hold out your hand to stop Steve from doing what he does best. He’s already halfway up and wincing with each push to help you, to rip Ernesto from your capable body, but Seda clicks the gun in his direction. Steve watches the way your arm extends, all five fingers spread in a hopeless plea of ‘don’t you sacrifice yourself for me, don’t you dare’. 

“I have done nothing but help you! I put food on the table and clothes on your worthless back! You spent my money!” Ernesto’s eyes are practically bulging and his thumbs are almost crushing your windpipe, but his placement is off. You can still breathe air, no matter how bruising his grip may be. “This is how you treat me? I should have killed you all those years ago. I should have ripped you limb by limb until your cries bled!”

“Please,” you whimper out, hand still extended toward Steve and the other attempting to push Ernesto by the chest. 

“Please? Please? Te voy a matar aquí, ahora, porque siempre te lo mereciste!”

You let out a strangled scream and are about to fight back. To save yourself and to end Steve’s suffering of watching you suffer, of watching his newfound hope dwindle right before him, when a gunshot erupts. Everyone screams, ears ringing, and there’s blood splattered all over your cheeks and neck, spots and leaks that trail down into the collar of your bodysuit. A heavy weight lands on you and knocks you back into the shelves. You hold Ernesto’s now limp body as best you can, knees locking painfully. There’s a massive hole where the top of his head should be and for the first time in years, you have to look away to keep from throwing up. 

“Dejalo.”

You open and close your mouth but regret it when the taste of copper lands on your tongue. You follow Seda’s order and drop Ernesto to your feet, the thud sending a shiver up every single one of your vertebrae. 

“Por qué hiciste eso?” you ask him, voice small. You choke on another hiccup. 

“Don’t lie to me and say you weren’t going to do it yourself.”

You look over at Steve. His eyes are just as wide as yours and the same red specks, now turning brown, are tainting the flush pink skin of his beautiful neck. 

“No,” you whisper. Steve hears your lost accent returning and it clutches at his heart. 

“It was for the best.” Seda marches over to grab Ramirez by the tie, ripping him up from the ground and pointing the gun to his head. Steve lunges forward and Seda fires another bullet into the same hip. 

“No!” Your throat is raw, scratched, and Steve hits the floor in another heap of muffled groans. Seda returns the aim on Ramirez. 

“Imagine my surprise when I saw this one confronting Ernesto with your Captain. Imagine my fucking surprise when I tried to find all our passports, all our files, and nothing was here! Imagine my surprise when I saw that fucking idiot White being taken away by one of your agents!”

“Seda, please.” You were never much of a negotiator. It was always go in and let the others do the talking. Steve was the talker, he was the negotiator, but he was out of his element. He was always the enemy to Seda. He could never convince him otherwise. 

“You’ve given me new purpose,” Seda grins and Ramirez is rather calm in his arms, like he accepts this. “Look at the crime scene. I’m using the gun Ramirez got from your team. My men are still loyal.”

He pauses and smiles with all teeth, blood in between most of them. “You shot Ernesto. You shot your Captain. You shot Omar.”

The frightened look on your face seems to fuel him even more. He continues, “We’ll never stop hunting you.”

“Try it,” Steve manages, standing up again and vaguely registering the flash of light to his right. His shield is no longer there. “You’ll have to kill me to win. You’ll have to kill all of us to win. Me, Y/N, Omar, Sam.” He breathes in deep but smiles. “The Winter Soldier.”

You swear Seda’s face pales but his grip around Ramirez’s waist only tightens. “Easy.”

“It won’t be,” you finally say, voice no longer wavering. There’s no plausible way Seda could win. But one thing is fact: whether they’re Seda’s or Ernesto’s men, they’ll never stop hunting you now. “You lost, Seda.”

All stills but there are shouts and the ring of gunshots still echoing near the lake. 

“No,” Seda looks to you and to Ernesto’s body. “I didn’t.”

He aims the gun at you and fires. 

Steve’s wail is grease to the fire in your soul and you accept whatever pain might hit. There’s space and then there isn’t. There’s emptiness and then there’s a space being filled by that horrid but lifesaving shield. There’s no one and then there’s Scott, blown up to his regular size with shield in hand and in front of you. The bullet bounces off the shield easily and hits the wall. You’re pushed into motion and in about two seconds, you’ve grabbed your gun again and do not hesitate to fire. The bullet hits Seda in his exposed chest and Ramirez fumbles to get the gun from him. Seda hits the floor and no one else follows. 

The shot hits its target perfectly. Seda doesn’t so much as stutter. 

“God,” Scott grumbles, eyes trying to focus on anything other than the pools of blood. “Was I late?”

You don’t pay any mind to Scott and rush over to Steve, where he’s barely holding himself up with his hip tilted on the edge of the desk.  “Steve? Steve. Did he hit anything important?”

“Besides the fuckin’ meat of my stomach?”

There isn’t a way to see beneath the kevlar, but your fingers have a mind of their own as they try to dig in. “You know what I mean.”

Steve huffs a laugh and gently slaps your fingers away. “No, but motherfuck me Christ, I get shot way too much and it hurts no less.”

“Was the shield not enough? You had to sacrifice your one-hundred year old hips? Are you hit anywhere else?”

“I was caught off guard. What about you? I heard over the mics that you were shot and-”

“Are you two done?” Scott interrupts, clearing his throat awkwardly but half a mind still paying attention to his own mic. 

It’s like you’re snapped back to reality. There’s not only Steve but others, alive and dead, and the smell of copper is all too familiar.  “Sorry, I’m still in shock. I don’t really know how to proceed from here.”

“Y/N-” Scott tries, but you resume.

“We were supposed to arrest them. Just arrest them.”

“Okay, I think we should get you outta here,” Steve acts like he’s the one guiding you, but his weight is falling. You faintly register a phone ringing in the room but Steve, ever so persistent, is still acting like he is holding you up. He lunges forward with a sharp wince, and your hand immediately goes to his hip. 

“Captain.”

Ramirez lowers his phone, call ended, and he wears an expression Steve recognizes immediately. It’s an expression that looks all too similar to Dugan’s when he relayed the news of enemy forces breaching their base. “...How many?”

“They’ve already sent the news to their men in Mexico.”

“Have they shut down the border?”

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They don’t know two of their men are dead, so we can-“

Scott shakes his head, shield still in hand with specks of blood drying on the blue stripe. “They know White was arrested. That’s all they need. They’ll assume the rest, the worst.”

You sigh, “Seda was right.”

Scott literally pouts and he looks like he wants to wrap you in his arms. “No, don’t send yourself there.”

Steve, however, agrees with you. “If they know about White, then they know about Omar. Seda had time to tell his men.”

“Then we make sure he’s arrested and taken to a secure facility. We can keep an eye-” Scott starts, but you shut him down quickly.

“He’s wanted by the US government, not the Avengers. We can only transport him. We can’t guarantee his safety.”

Ramirez gives a small smile. “Mija, voy estar bien. No te preocupes.”

“I don’t know.”

Scott looks between the three of you. He places the shield against the wall near the door. He raises his eyebrows at Steve and looks to his wounds, but Steve waves him off. Reluctantly, Scott nods. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.”

There’s a pool of blood near your boots. You don’t want to know if it’s from the dead or from Steve.  

“Doll, what are you thinking?”

He can’t hurt you anymore. “That I need you to go, too.”

Steve forgets about the pain in his hip and focuses solely on you. “What?”

“Go. If there’s one more thing you can do for me and my reckless family, go check on Sam.”

“You know I can’t leave you here alone with him.”

Your voice is steady and calm and it’s scaring Steve. It’s scaring him. “I promised myself that you wouldn’t be hurt by this mission. I stand by it.”

“I promise, Captain, I have no resentment. Whatever she does, I will follow,” Ramirez speaks, and Steve doesn’t even pay him a glance. 

“I can’t just go.”

“Steve,” you interlock your fingers behind his neck. “Please. Listen to me.” He looks so confused, a million questions flying through his mind and almost escaping those sweet pink lips. Fierce, you whisper for only him. “He can’t hurt me anymore. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

He relishes the feeling of your soft hands behind his neck. They’re bloody, but yours. His neck is bloody, but you don’t seem to care. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes,” you confirm.

He pulls from your hold and turns to leave. He picks up the shield. Before he leaves, he grips the doorway and looks over his shoulder, eyebrows pinched and jaw tense. “Two minutes, I swear to Almighty Christ, Y/N. I’m coming back for you.”

You smirk, the dim light from the office lamps creating nothing short of a sparkle in your eyes. “I don’t expect anything less, Rogers.”

Steve hesitates for a moment and then he walks away. Once his footsteps are no longer heard, you turn back to Ramirez. There’s a voice in your head telling you this was a bad idea and that you were an idiot to have your back turned on him for so long, but Ramirez is simply leaning on one of the chairs and grimacing at the bloody scene before him. 

“Remember when Ernesto bought you that car when you were thirteen? And then another when your brother crashed it?”

Your nose pinches, “I don’t feel like reminiscing when he’s lying right there.”

“Do you remember what you told me when he bought you that second car? The sports one?”

You sigh. Ramirez was clearly going to continue speaking. “‘No lo quiero. Soy una niña. Get rid of it.’”

“And I did.”

“You did.”

He smiles, and for the first time you notice all the gray hair dusting his head, the most by his temples. There's a limp in his step too but you can’t remember if he had before or after the wedding. “I’ll get rid of this.”

“What?” you blink, unsure if you heard him right.

“I’m already a traitor. If I spin this, you can continue the mission. You can arrest even more of his men. They’ll come after me instead of you.”

It’s what he’s been trained to do. It’s what he’s done since he transported his first shipment. It’s what he’s done time and time again for Ernesto, for Seda, for some of his own careless men. He’s numb to it, just as you were a few days ago, but now you can’t stop thinking about the aftermath. Where would he put their bodies? Would they be buried here or back in Mexico? Would people really care if Ernesto was dead? They didn’t seem to care when he was snapped out of existence. But Ramirez has this sag in his shoulders that tells you he’s already calculating the best way to wrap the bodies and how deep he plans on sending them… or burning them. Burning them was always easier. 

“They’ll come after your family. Your daughters.”

He shakes his head, “I’ve ensured their safety. They’re safe.”

Against your better judgement, you tap your mic discreetly and turn it off. “I can’t let you take one for the team.”

He chuckles, “I’m a part of your team? I’m an Avenger?”

You can’t help but laugh with him. It’s not a light moment, but it’s a moment nonetheless. “Sure, Omar. But we don’t trade lives.”

“I had this coming.”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t.” Straining your ears and shutting your eyes, you mumble a quick prayer in hope that this plan of yours worked. You pass Ramirez your own gun and speak low. “Go.”

He’s shocked and he stutters. “Que haces? Que esta pasando?”

“There’s no one on the east side right now. All the guests were moved to the front. It’s clear. But not for long.” Pushing him to the door, you make sure he’s not leaving any bloody footprints behind. He’s clear. “Go.”

“This will kill us both.”

“But it will give us a head start.”

“No puedo hacer eso! No quiero hacer eso.”

“Omar, they’re not going to protect you once you’re charged. I can’t protect you then. So I need you to go.” You reach into your suit and pluck that random Roman coin you had stolen just a few days earlier. It was a token of good luck but you didn’t need it anymore. You avoid looking at the carving for fear that the likeness to Steve will make you change your mind. You place it in Ramirez’s hand and clench his fist shut.  “If there’s one thing you can do for my stupid, anti-hero mentality, go.”

“Que hago con esto?”

“No me llamas. But let me find this.”

He looks at you with pity. It’s so much pity and understanding for your situation that you have to look away. “I owe you my life.”

Eyesight now on the wall over his shoulder, you offer him a thin smile. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

He stumbles at first, unsure if this is really happening, and finally passes by. “Y/N.” 

You figure it’d be pretty rude not to answer. You turn slowly. He continues, face somber and head shaking with so much pity. “The amount of Hell that’s coming...”

It’s funny, really. You shoot him that famous smile you were known for. It tricks him like it’s supposed to. “I’m already going to Hell for the lives I’ve taken and the crimes I’ve committed. But the journey to my fate has been worth it.”

     The estate is being swept as quickly as possible. There are agents dressing wounds, reading rights, snapping photos, on the phone, etc. It’s organized chaos and there’s so much happening but it’s never impossible to catch Steve’s side profile in a crowd. His nose is pinched up and he’s dealing with his wounds himself. No one is even looking at him. 

Speed walking to him, you hook your arm in his and turn him around. He’s too tall, and your toes strain as you rise on them, but you wrap your arms around his neck anyway. He returns the gesture and squeezes you as hard as you’re squeezing him. After a few seconds, he whispers quietly.

“Where’d Ramirez go?”

If he saw your eyes, he would know you were lying. You keep your arms in place. “He got away.”

He tries to push you away but fails. “Y/N.”

“He got away,” you repeat. Slowly, regretfully, you pull back.  “We should go.”

There’s a horrible crease in between his eyebrows and he knows he’s caught you in a lie, but he also knows that if there was one thing he knew most about you, it was that you were just as stubborn as he was. Quick with wit, always asking to be punched, and stubborn to the point it made strangers worry. So he doesn’t question it, and turns with you in the direction of the jet.  “Maribel has the safehouse set up. Montana.”

“You sure you can make it to the jet? Should I get Bucky to come with us?”

The quinjet is empty except for a few supplies, a medical bag, and Friday. There are only two seats and by the way Steve’s bending over to show his true pain, you’d be flying it. Once you land, you can fish out those bullets.

“No one else.” Steve bites. He can’t risk anyone else - hell, he doesn’t even want to risk you. “I’ll protect you.”

You board the jet and watch as the trees sway in rhythm to the movements of everyone doing their job. It’s dark, and you push the fact that you’re so horribly night blind to the back of your skull, and it’s starting to eat away at you that the mission didn’t really go as planned. No one seems to notice yet that you never brought them the two main players they were hoping for. It only makes you close the quinjet faster. You sit Steve down in one of the seats and kneel before him. “And I you.”

If anyone asked, Steve would lie and say he was tearing up because of the bullets piercing his skin in half.  To protect and be protected. 

“Let’s go.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Did you know about two years ago i saw King Harry at a local Burger King?

I heard him speak and noticed his accent and so I kept looking at him not feeling he was a Prince of any sort.

My soulmate was screaming "That's the King!!"

I told him "okay that's great but would you shut up? I'm trying to look at This guy. He seems familiar to me and I'm at Burger King, yeah i know. Now just please!"

So I'm looking him up and down and he loos me up and down, King Harry with amusement. And im like dude what you looking at me and laughing for? And I'm all this is a set up and hes figured me out before i figured him out. And i wonder if he's got amnesia, too...

He let's me order ahead of him although he was there first... Although i had went in first, I had gotten in line second after seating my kid as we had not been to that particular Burger King before.

Then I heard him going on and on about making sure the receipt was gotten for him. Because he had forgot and it was placed on the counter and he had people with him.

I was all surely that is not the Prince of Harry he would not care about a receipt!!

Then he tells his friend in a whisper "No you should call me King. Then no one would know who i am."

"You mean us"

I looked up to see King William laughing.

Whoa shit!! My mouth dropped open! It really was them! Or him!

William turned around and his mouth dropped open at the sight of me!

"First i want you to know this wasn't planned. Second i want you to tell me where you have been"

I didn't know who he was talking to so i looked away because i was like not planned my foot and you're not tricking me hostage negotiatiator! We're not gonna be your hostages! Not today!!

I heard stuttering and mumbling. "I was waiting in the car, you didn't answer your text. And i wanted to make sure the drink order was okay"

"How's your drink order ma'am?" Asked Harry

"Great!"

The entire time my daughter is laughing. Ever since she saw Williams jaw drop she was in a fit of giggles.

"We are just doing something incognito. It was nice to see you. Pleasant surprise! And it seems you have raised her right. I hope i do the same. But why have you recognized him but not me?"

"LET'S GO! IT MIGHT NOT BE HER!" William said through clenched teeth.

Which made me laugh because it was them!! Or very good actors!!

And Harry laughed and tried to get his brother to wait.

"He's aged. He's old. That is what i recognize" I barely gasped out between giggles.

So Harry repeated in a low murmer. So next thing I know William stomps back "what do you mean he's old?!?!"

"Not him you! Shit!! Oops I mean! No! No! I don't you got it right the First time!" Finally i could quit laughing and get myself together! Im sure i looked quite the Loon of Los Lunas!!

Behind me i could hear Harry taking pictures of my daughter who was just lit up.

"It IS! LOOK AT THEM! THEIR FACES! Its all her!!! You could tell can't you Harry!!!" William had the same amused satisfied look on his face that Harry had had in the line.

It was weird because Harry was in front of me with a black beanie and all black clothes and i had a feeling. And a memory of the burglar guys from Home Alone. And i started messing around in my head from that feeling because i felt very safe and comfortable to have my own presence.

And Harry spun around and grabbed his heart. His eyes wide with shock. Then kept turning his head to look at me. Gave up and then stood next to me.

I felt he was very tall. Almost too tall, i felt he had grown into a handsome young man. And i wondered why i thought those things. And it made me cautious. So i put my hand on my hip and spread my legs a bit like Wonder Woman and in my head said "And who are we to serve today sir?!"

My soulmate was all "you feel uncomfortable but you feel you should do like that?!?!"

"Uh huh."

That is when Harry's mouth dropped. But also colors whizzed by me. Colors of me in an outfit I had worn Before that only he found striking enough to remember.

And he spun around like Wonder Woman changing into her super self and said "there"

And i said "oh well what will you be having? She wants the chicken"

He laughed and barely squeezed out "burger and fries"

"Oh we are getting milkshakes, too. Coupon"

"Oh let me see? Are you done? May I?" And he clipped a coupon

"In the mail, the mailbox that is where i got them at my house"

"Oh you live nearby?"

"Down the road"

His face turned white and he grabbed a pen and wrote my name on his hand.

"Yeah but it's okay. There's nothing to it. Just be me"

And he doubled at the waist laughing.

"I'll admit some days it ain't easy but hey what else are ya gonna do? Cant die"

He had tried to steady himself but bust laughing again.

"Yeah I know you can't be me. I'll go first"

"Please do!!"

Later, as i left, the Police Department went in and asked for all copies of the security footage. And ordered something to eat while he waited.

...... ..... ....

Back in 2008 they had visited and I had kept explaining how I for each event we needed money and who had the funds.

Harry who i had not recognized yet although i had recognized his brother, because Harry had changed outfits and was walking about and had confused me as I was super busy interrupted, "excuse me if i may, but why do you keep saying you need money? You're like the richest person we know!!"

"Oh I'm so glad you asked would you like to see my bank account?!"

"No!"

So i showed him, we got like $2000 per month for my now ex husband's wages and my money from the VA to attend school.

And he turned white and he said "so so so someone stole from you?!?!?"

I didn't know i had money. I just knew people were offering to fund it. And would say "you got money for that" Saint Luches had caught on and would say "from me" as he played my accountant when Dan was busy.

Otherwise Dan would say "there's funding for that"

So it was quite the Bermuda Triangle of communication for me to understand that it was my own money we were using and it was my own money for businesses I owned and didn't know i owned.

And my face turned white.

And that is what seeded the desire two Kings to live as peasants.

Except Harry said he also wanted to do it alone. And so now it is his blessing to do so.

They would take breaks and leave their money as it was and go back to work and do what they needed to do for their country then they would return to where they were and be at the same amount of regular money they had at where they lived.

They would stay in the USA and use USD. They would stay in England even in their castles and use regular Euros and be on a budget under the Queen whom of course would bail them out.

I posted an article not to long ago about the Young Queens wearing mall priced jewellery along with their crowns.

And so while the world is in an uproar, they're doing what they have been all along. But this time a bit louder.

And William will take his turn at living singley with his family as a peasant eating 15 year old French fries from the back seat of their nearly broken down auto.

They have a series of different lifestyles to live.

Eventually they will have to hitchhike and stumble across luck in life.

When they do, they will be disguised and without their children. And to prove the world is safer.

Which we cannot bail them out. Unless it is subzero temperature and they are not near any buildings they can seek shelter at. Or extremely hot and they had not had water.

So in a sense how the brave Americans and other people from other lands will backpack across Europe, they will backpack across the world.

In my old age I am not that brave.

So while many think now "what if God were one of us" in a few years you will know to think "what if the King was Queen was hitchhiking back there?"

Alas. Do realize that people are kidnapped by picking up hitchhikers and they are not going to do so for until 2024. And of course they will have security that is nearby.

So please don't go picking up hitchhikers now! If you don't regularly.

I did in the past until I had my daughter and I can count on one finger how many times I've picked up a stranger on the road side since then. And the same for as many times as we hitchhiked ourselves.

I do help people in well lit and populated parking lots if I am not feeling ill.

I applaud Harry and William and their Queens for their adventures they have done in secret. And I look forward to the days we can see their adventures on TV.

May all the Good Gods and Goddesses and Trees bless both Harry and William, their children and their Queens.

My heart goes to Harry and his family on their new adventure they strike out alone!

My happiness still exist for them all!!!.

The number one cause of fights is about money... But I am sure they will still have that ability to find love... Despite that red hair temper stereotype that everyone fears!!! ;)