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[deepestwolfstudent]

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[keehomania]

wearing my nct shirt to the gynecologist tomorrow so she knows i'm not sexually active without having to ask

[quanblovk]

DMK: Check it out.

MK: .....

DMK: My very own Halberd.

MK: That's just a cardboard box with the word "Halberd" written on it.

DMK: A MAN CAN DREAM.

[alternate-real-ities]

Hi. It would be interesting to know how you look into other universes? Do you have any kind of device or magical abilities? Can you demonstrate this on me?

Hey there, cutie 😉. Thank you for your intriguing question about how I perceive other universes and realities beyond our own. While I do not possess any magical abilities, I have developed a remarkable device that allows me to peer into the multiverse. My machine utilizes advanced quantum computing technology coupled with exotic matter as the energy source. It allows me to access specific realities with decent clarity by calibrating it carefully.

To demonstrate this capability for you, I would be happy to show you some alternate realities where you're still as stunning as you are now, only in a different way:

Here's a universe where you are instead Filipino. Here, your hair is a deep black with just the slightest hint of waviness at the top, framing your heart-shaped face perfectly. You possess a boyish face that makes anyone weak in the knees at first glance. When you smile, it's like seeing a whole world open up.

Your chest is smooth and flat, leading down to your soft belly and then tapering off into elegant legs that show little signs of hair. You are so small and delicate that it's hard to imagine that below all that innocence hides a deep lust for a big strong man to hold you up and do with you as he pleases.

-

Now, let's pay a visit to a previous dimension I like to call "Arab World". At the pinnacle of this society are the most perfectly engineered humans - those with Arab DNA that has been optimized through generations of careful selection, genetic tweaking and breeding to create individuals of unparalleled physical perfection and mental acuity. In this universe, you are an alpha of unparalleled might, your virility unmatched by any who have come before. You take great pride in your genetic superiority, knowing that no mere mortal could ever compare to your perfection.

You are blessed with a virile physique, muscular form sculpted by years of intense physical training. Your bulging chest and rock-hard abs speak to your boundless strength and vitality. In the gym at your lavish estate, you push yourself to the limits, determined to maintain peak condition.

But as much as you appreciate fine living and opulence, your true passion lies in power, conquest, and sexual domination of lesser beings. As an elite Arab alpha ruler, you take immense pride and pleasure in asserting your superiority over those beneath you, including your slaves.

-

To end this showcase gracefully, let me show you one last reality which might be my favourite. In this dimension, one of your parents is black, and as such you were born to become an handsome lightskin man.

You are an absolute fuckboy, and you wouldn't have it any other way. Your life is one endless string of parties, workouts, flirting, and fucking. You are utterly shameless about flaunting your body to anyone who will look. At the gym, you make sure every single rep is perfectly calibrated for maximum muscle growth. You strike poses, flexing and posing with a confident swagger that lets everyone know just how goddamn hot you are. The mirror loves you as much as you do.

Your nightlife consists of endless nights out on the town. You're always down to hit up the trendiest clubs in the city, the hottest bars, the flashiest parties. Your social media is filled with steamy selfies showcasing off your bodacious physique - pecs popping from tight tank tops, washboard abs glistening as you do ab crunches against a wall. Fans and admirers drool over every inch of exposed skin.

You are always on the prowl for a special someone to show off and bring home - some unsuspecting twink who can't resist getting lost in your world of pleasure and excitement. The way you touch them, caress their skin with lingering fingertips, leans into them with smoldering intensity - it's enough to make even the most experienced bottom moan like a bitch in heat.

-

These are just some examples of the diverse array of alternate realities that my machine allows me to access and observe from afar. Although, with the timeline converger project I'm currently working on, it may one day become possible for me to physically transform you as well if we both so desire.

As a side note, I'd like to thank you for your patience! I know I took a lot of time, but calibrating my machine takes quite some time if one wants to see realities that aren't as normal and boring as ours. I hope it was worth your time, because I'm sure it was worth mine 😉 See you next time!

[2old2swiftie]

Following on the post about trusting our guts about gaydar and celebrities...

I've batted nearly .1000 when it comes to predicting a celebrity's sexual orientation just from media clues. I think partly it's because I don't make the "guess" that often: Only a few celebrities really ring the clue phone (yeah, lack of representation sucks), but I also think the other reason is because LGBTQIA folks don't get it wrong very often.

I mean, it's pretty important that our instincts are right, after all. We could truly be risking our lives on a wrong guess in real life. We have to be incredibly careful AND pretty darned good.

So, I was trying to think of someone who pinged my spidey senses that I was COMPLETELY wrong about... and I came up with only one example:

Kate Mulgrew.

Despite driving the daydreams of legions of 1970s lesbians (Rosie O'Donnell, I'm looking at you), Kate remains firmly heterosexual, in spite of the lesbian catnip she oozes from every pore.

Just look at her as Mary Ryan in her soap opera debut:

She went on to do movies and the stage for a number of years, but she was hard to cast because she didn't fit the cookie cutter parts available at the time. She had a brief doctor series and some guest star spots, most notably on Dallas and Cheers.

But when they cast her as Captain Janeway? Come on!!

Look at her!!!

Every woman loving woman in all the quadrants wanted to be her coffee cup!!

But the man boys at Paramount decided the show needed some spank appeal for the 14-24 male demographic, so they brought out their Space Barbie, Seven of Nine, to introduce some gratuitous sex and nudity.

"Only one problem, boys," said Mulgrew with a smirk....

Voyager now had a willful, headstrong, wildly intelligent "alien" snatched from her natural environment and penned up in a rigid, paramilitary system that she had to learn to navigate, understand, and ultimately be tamed by... and it was headed by another willful, headstrong, wildly intelligent human, who happened to be female, too.

The producers and writers claimed Janeway was Seven's mentor, a "mother figure" to the poor little space orphan.

As the J/7 fandom put it: Mother, my ass.

The subtext-- and soon the fan fiction-- wrote itself: Seven gets kidnapped back to the Borg? Janeway takes on a Borg cube with a ship a tenth its size. Failing Borg technology threatens Seven's life? Janeway goes "cortical node" hunting, even if it means killing a live (enslaved, sentient) drone to get one. Greater good? Screw that, Janeway's girlfriend is in danger.

Star Trek: Voyager went toe-to-toe with Xena, Warrior Princess as lesbian show of the decade.

And it wasn't just the show that made us all sure about Kate. The woman has the voice of a lesbian sex goddess and she's not afraid to use it. She flirts shamelessly with all interviewers and creates sexual tension with stage furnishings. She swaggers. She slouches. She has the greatest hand game in lesbian history!!

But through it all, Kate Mulgrew maintained (and still maintains) her heterosexuality.

And I still hope...nay, LONG!, to have my gaydar proven right...

[ofliterarynature]

TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 13 (Aug 25)

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Pick one or none, and comment if you can - a convincing sentence is worth a dozen votes! You’re also welcome to just choose the one that sounds the worst :D Book descriptions below the cut, see my pinned post for more info.

Artemis by Andy Weir

[For reference, I *did* like The Martian but did *not* like Project Hail Mary]

Jasmine Bashara never signed up to be a hero. She just wanted to get rich.

Not crazy, eccentric-billionaire rich, like many of the visitors to her hometown of Artemis, humanity's first and only lunar colony. Just rich enough to move out of her coffin-sized apartment and eat something better than flavored algae. Rich enough to pay off a debt she's owed for a long time.

So when a chance at a huge score finally comes her way, Jazz can't say no. Sure, it requires her to graduate from small-time smuggler to full-on criminal mastermind. And it calls for a particular combination of cunning, technical skills, and large explosions--not to mention sheer brazen swagger. But Jazz has never run into a challenge her intellect can't handle, and she figures she's got the 'swagger' part down.

The trouble is, engineering the perfect crime is just the start of Jazz's problems. Because her little heist is about to land her in the middle of a conspiracy for control of Artemis itself.

Trapped between competing forces, pursued by a killer and the law alike, even Jazz has to admit she's in way over her head. She'll have to hatch a truly spectacular scheme to have a chance at staying alive and saving her city.

Jazz is no hero, but she is a very good criminal.

That'll have to do.

The Probability of Miracles by Wendy Wunder

Dry, sarcastic, sixteen-year-old Cam Cooper has spent the last seven years in and out hospitals. The last thing she wants to do in the short life she has left is move 1,500 miles away to Promise, Maine - a place known for the miraculous events that occur there. But it's undeniable that strange things happen in Promise: everlasting sunsets; purple dandelions; flamingoes in the frigid Atlantic; an elusive boy named Asher; and finally, a mysterious envelope containing a list of things for Cam to do before she dies. As Cam checks each item off the list, she finally learns to believe - in love, in herself, and even in miracles.

A debut novel from an immensely talented new writer, The Probability of Miracles crackles with wit, romance and humor and will leave readers laughing and crying with each turn of the page.

Merchants of Culture by John B Thompson

For nearly five centuries, the world of book publishing remained largely static. But at the dawn of the twenty-first century, the industry faces a combination of economic pressures and technological change that is forcing publishers to alter their practices and think hard about the future of the book.

John Thompson's riveting account dissects the roles of publishers, agents, and booksellers in the United States and Britain, charting their transformation since the 1960s. Offering an in-depth analysis of how the digital revolution is changing the game today, Merchants of Culture is the one book that anyone with a stake in the industry needs to read.

[love-and-deepspace-wiki]

Footwear: Meteor Sports (Part 2)

I FOUND THE SHOES!

Xavier's Meteor Sports are practically a dead ringer for the Nike Air Fear of God Raid!

Look at this comparison! Loooooook!

Product Details:

Price: $201.83 (£152.95)

Description:

"Co-created with street-fashion mogul Jerry Lorenzo and his Fear of God brand, the Nike Air Fear of God Raid merges the swagger of luxury streetwear with a design inspired by the original 1993 Air Raid outdoor basketball shoe. The leather and textile upper has a luxurious look and a soft, sumptuous feel. Nike Air technology provides responsive cushioning."

Source: (Link)

Additional Images:

[renova-writes]

lost in the pages. part 1

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1,350

warnings: none

a/n: I haven't written in forever so please forgive me. I'm trying to get back into it and I started this fit a while ago so I figured I'd finally post the first few chapters of it! I hope you like it!

masterlist

You had your nose fully engrossed in your book, ignoring the lunch you had set out to eat on the table next to you. You had been itching to read your latest story- a crime thriller- all morning, making the minutes agonizing, and once you finally took your lunch break the book was the first thing you thought about. 

Just as the story started to pick up, your coworker David ran into the break room. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, Betty needs you up at the front. Some guy showed up all serious and she had to take a meeting with him.” 

“What about you? I’m on lunch right now. Why can’t you get the front desk?”

“I got story time in five minutes. Unless you want to read ‘Cat In The Hat’?”

“No, thanks. I’ll take the front.” Children stressed you out, the way they could never sit still and pay attention. You were grateful for David and his endless patience.

The library you worked at in downtown Manhattan saw a fair amount of traffic. Unfortunately, everyone always seemed to come in right after you took your lunch break. There was a decent amount of books for one of New York’s oldest private libraries and only three full time employees. Betty, the head librarian, was about sixty years old and a kind old soul. She had been a librarian at this branch her entire life and defended her books with such ferocity that she had been given the nickname ‘the book witch’ by the snot-nosed little kids that mixed up the shelving in the children’s section and ‘old hag’ by the meaner ones . You swore that you saw her hit a teenager over the head with a book when he and his friends were eating in the library. David was an oddball. He was technically in charge of the technology, but the branch had only a handful of computers and, for the most part, relied on paper records to keep track of its books. In the two years you had been working with David, you never once saw him read a book unless he had to. He was a character, to say the least. 

You had been working at the library for the past two and a half years. Growing up you loved to read and went to college at NYU, studying Classic Literature before graduating a year early and deciding to get your degree in Master’s in Library and Information Science and become a librarian. You found your job to be incredibly rewarding but also very stressful. You liked helping people find new books and seeing them get excited about books. However, you were constantly hounded by mounds of paperwork and phone calls and constant organization. During your first week, you had made the mistake of re-organizing the disheveled back room and had apparently done such a good job that Betty decided to put you in charge of all things ‘organized’ and gave you control of the library’s extensive records. You assumed that you had managed it fairly well. Housing thousands of books and newspaper records whilst still using the Dewey Decimal system, it had been a nightmare to digitize everything. The project had occupied a few months of your time but at the end of it, nobody complained and all files were straightforward and easy to find. It was all smooth sailing. 

While sitting at the front desk that afternoon you longed for the book that you were forced to abandon in the break room. Your felt stomach start to complain about the ignored lunch and you were about to go back to grab your sandwich during a rare dead-period when Betty walked over with someone.

 The man next to Betty had messy dark brown hair and a neatly shaped goatee. He wore an old Black Sabbath t-shirt and shaded sunglasses and walked with such confidence and swagger that he was easily recognizable. Tony freaking Stark. 

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ you wondered to yourself. 

“Ah, Mr. Stark, this is who I was talking about. She’s the best librarian and archivist I have ever worked with.” Betty smiled through her rectangle glasses. 

“Thank you,” you beamed, slightly flustered by the compliment, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. All my prayers have been answered. You are really going to save my ass.” 

Though you had heard that Stark had a unique and slightly confusing way of talking, you were not expecting this. How could you help him? He was a genius. “How exactly am I going to do that, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony. I have a slight problem that I could use your help with.” He began, “Back when we were just starting out a few years ago, after the New York alien invasion disaster, we were supposed to log everything and do debriefs and paperwork and all that stuff but we didn’t exactly know what to do with all of it so it kind of all just got piled up in filing cabinets and boxes. That wasn’t that big of a problem but now we’re supposed to share our records with the UN and they’re a disaster. None of us have any idea how to do it- not that we have time to- so that’s where you come in.” 

“So you want me to organize it all for you?” 

“All of it, by March 26th.” Your eyes widened. That was only three weeks away. Who knows how bad it was? Still, it was Tony Stark and he would probably be willing to pay pretty well. 

“Just as long as Betty and David will be able to manage without me-” you began, but Betty interrupted your only excuse. 

“We’ll be fine, dear.” She smiled, and you could tell that she was trying to encourage you to take the job. The library would survive despite the massive increase in work that she and David would have to endure. 

You looked from her to Stark, who was leaning against the desk and smiling also, then back to Betty. You felt bad about leaving Betty and the library but the opportunity to work with Stark was too alluring. “Okay, okay. I’m in.”

“Okay great! That was easier than I thought it would be.” Tony said, clapping his hands and standing up straight. “I’ll see you at 9 tomorrow, Happy will give you more info, here’s my card,” his mouth was moving faster than you expected and words were being thrown out that you didn’t understand. Who was Happy? Did he want to meet you at the Avenger’s Tower? Before you had even realized what you just got yourself into, Tony Stark was out the door.

You breathed out, muttering a curse word that you hoped Betty didn’t hear. You stood up from the desk and she walked over to you. Clasping her hands around yours she smiled again, “Congratulations, I am so proud of you, dear.” 

“No fucking way, Tony Stark wants you to come organize the Avenger’s records!?” David asked for the millionth time while the two of you were sorting the book returns. 

“I swear to god, David, it was him.” You were starting to get annoyed. David seemed more excited about your job than you were. “I have no idea how bad it is. I only have three weeks to get everything in order.”

“Oh, shit, you might be screwed then. How long did it take for you to get this branch in order?”

“Two, three months. But I also had other stuff to do, it wasn’t like my main job.” 

“You’re gonna be fine. You’re smart and capable and it can’t be that bad. Plus just remember how much he’s probably gonna pay you.” 

“Yeah,” you began but a buzz in your pocket distracted you. You pulled it out to find a text from an unknown number “Hey, I bet this is him with the info, I’ll be right back.” 

This is Happy. 

Avengers tower, 9 o’clock, front entrance. 

Don’t be late. I will meet you in the lobby. 

[iamnot-crazy]

Pages of promise.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

Summary: You have always itched for adventure and when an interesting vessel appears you take your chance and jump aboard.

Trafalgar Law x GN!reader

---

You sat on the railing separating the dock from the town as boredom gnawed at you. Your island sat in North Blue right before the entrance to the grand line and was renowned for its vibrant dyes and delectable berries. No one of interest ever arrived at your town except for the few Marines who swagger through town, restocking before their journeys into the Grand Line. At least until today.

A peculiar yellow vessel, unlike any you'd ever seen, sliced through the turquoise water. It was a ship? Emblazoned on its side was a jolly roger – a smiley face with 6 lines radiating from it. It was an odd jolly Roger not having cross bone many have but there was no doubt in your mind that it was a pirate ship. Your heart hammered against your ribs with a thrill you hadn't felt in years.

With a surge of adrenaline, you vaulted over the wooden railing and stalked toward the docked vessel. An interesting crew disembarked, all clad in white jumpsuits emblazoned with the same smiley face insignia as their vessel. Behind the crew trailed a man with a brooding expression and a floppy white hat perched on his head, sported a yellow hoodie, and held a large sword resting it on his shoulder. He must be the captain you thought as you watched him approach the dockhand and pulled out a pouch of coins.

With a mischievous grin, you climbed aboard the deserted vessel. Your fingers traced the cool, smooth metal of the hull, a stark contrast to the sun-baked wood of the other ships that you have seen. Peeking through a porthole, you gasped. Unlike any ship you'd ever seen, the interior was a labyrinth of gleaming corridors and unique technology.

"What do you think you're doing!?" A voice boomed from behind you. You spun around to find the captain glaring at you from across the ship.

Ignoring his scowl, bounced over to him, "I'm joining your crew!" You state joyfully before running around the man taking in his features.

"Like hell you are!" He growled as tried to turn around to face you.

"But it will be so much fun!" You jump onto his shoulders forcing him to stumble forward, overwhelmed by your boundless enthusiasm.

You push off the man and run toward the door leading to the inside of the vessel. "Hey! Stop!" The man yells at you running after you as you laugh running through the halls.

"What kind of ship is this!?" you question excitably as your fingers brush against any buttons they can find.

"It's not a ship it is a submarine." The man groaned breathlessly as he chased after you, "ROOM! Shambles!"

You were transported into arm's range of the man who grabbed your collar holding you still, "I don't know who you are but you are NOT joining my crew! And you are DONE poking around my sub!" His face grew red with anger as he spit in your face.

Undeterred, you flashed him your most innocent smile, deploying your best weapon, your puppy-dog eyes. His face twisted in discomfort by your expression. He quickly banished you from the vessel with a sigh and a flick of his wrist, transporting you back to the dock.

You pouted at your removal from the ship but decided that you were not done with the pirate crew and you ran into town finding your makeshift home on the roof of the town bar. You had a small cloth that made a tent to protect you from the elements it was not much but you called it home. The biggest benefit is that it was easy to pack up and you threw all your items into a worn leather satchel. Nestled amongst your meager belongings, lay a pristine sketchbook, its pages blank and waiting to be filled with the extraordinary tales you were about to tell

Returning to the docks you perched yourself on top of a barrel with a determined glint in your eye, you unstrapped your satchel and flipped open the sketchbook. The first page remained stubbornly blank, a canvas for the adventures to come.

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed from below, "Whoa, is that the Polar Tang?!"

You peered over the edge to see three figures approaching the docks. One is a tall man with a killer whale hat and a mischievous grin, beside him an impossibly cute polar bear mink, and a third man with a penguin perched atop his head.

"Is that what she's called?" you hummed, pencil hovering over the page. The three men crowded around you, mesmerized as you began sketching the submarine with a practiced hand. Each stroke brought the Polar Tang to life, capturing the sleek lines and the details you'd absorbed during your brief exploration.

"You're really good!" Shachi exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

"Amazing!" Bepo echoed, tilting his head to get a better look.

You grinned, a surge of pride warming your chest. "Thanks! Are you part of her crew?"

"That's right! We are the heart Pirates" Shachi confirmed, puffing out his chest. "I'm Shachi. This furry fellow is Bepo, and that's Penguin over there."

"And who is your captain?" You question curiously.

"Trafalgar Law." He responded with joy, "And who might you be?"

Your grin grew as you pulled your attention away from your sketch, "I'm Y/n! And I am joining your crew!"

The three pirates were taken aback by your bold statement and looked at each other in concern. But upon their lips, a smile grew and they all began to laugh. "And what will you be doing on our ship Y/n?" Shachi asked in between laughs.

"I'm going to capture your adventure! I am going to document the new era and I have a feeling your crew will be a large part of it!" You smiled as you spoke of your dreams with an unfeathered confidence.

"Well let me be the first to welcome you to the crew!" Shachi laughed smacking your back while grinning.

When Law emerged from the submarine he was surprised to find you surrounded by his entire crew admiring your work as Bepo posed in front of you as you added his addition to your journal. Upon seeing Law Bepo waved, "Captain! Have you met Y/n! She is going to record our adventures!"

Law's eye twitched. "New crewmate?" he sputtered, incredulous.

You, however, remained unfazed. With a confident smile, you flipped to the first page of the sketchbook and presented it to Law. On the first page, the Polar Tang gleamed in all its glory.

"I'm going to record your adventures," you declared, your voice ringing with conviction. Law stared at the drawing, then back at you.

He saw the spark of determination in your eyes, and a reluctant sigh escaped his lips. Shachi's and Penguin's enthusiastic endorsement and Bepo's silent plea with his puppy-dog eyes only sealed your fate.

"Fine," Law grumbled, his voice laced with resignation. "But don't get yourself killed."

As the Polar Tang submerged, plunging into the cool depths, you clutched your sketchbook, your mind already brimming with stories waiting to be told. From the electrifying battles you'd witness to the hilarious antics of the crew, you'd capture it all. The blank pages were no longer empty; they were a promise, a pact with adventure.

---

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (Sad Ending) Chapter 3 (Bittersweet Ending)

A/N: Wanna read more of my work check out my MasterList

[allieebobo]

Wait, I'm confused. Is G a French CANADIAN or are they a regular ol' French FRENCH person? 'Cause those two mean way different things.

G's mother is French Canadian, but she married a French man and has been living in France — hence G grew up in France (the South, to be exact). However, she has since divorced G's father, and is now dating a French Canadian man and has been living in Quebec for the past 5 years.

G has been living in Paris for the 3 years of their undergrad programme prior to Cargill, but has spent a couple of months with their mother in Quebec over the breaks / summer.

And yes, I suspect you're totally right that a French French person is a very different species from a French Canadian person (you folks are welcome to send me yes/no replies).

Anyway, I heard a funny quote once, basically something along the lines of: French Canadians have a combination of all the best things — French sexiness/swagger, Canadian niceness; though I've also heard an opposite saying about French Canada being the worst of all worlds: French aversion to technology, Canadian remoteness, American food.

[desirepathzine]

Placebo's Vision of the Present

Placebo are a band that I feel don't get enough credit for describing exactly how it feels to live in our modern age: the paranoia, the anxiety, the hedonism, the big fears and big loves that dominate this moment in time. And they've been exorcising those demons for a while. Headed up by Brian Molko and Stefan Olsdal, the group has been an authentic voice in music since their debut in 1997.

Maybe it's my American perspective, seeing as Placebo are largely known and celebrated in the UK, but I find their insight to the current era shockingly prescient. This isn't surprising for their 2022 album Never Let. Me Go but even beyond their most recent entries, Molko and co.'s vision of what it's like to be alive is shockingly in tune with the struggles folks of all ages are experiencing.

I was a latecomer to Placebo's catalog, again, not knowing much of them thanks to being based in the United States. Their late 90s debut was a little after my primary era of interest growing up and it wasn't until a few years ago that friends recommended I listen to them. I immediately connected. Their music still feels so fresh and vital, even earlier releases. And it's rare that a band that have been going for so long still have those vital and fresh things to say, their newest record a perfect addition to the catalog.

There probably isn't a better band than Placebo to talk about our relationship to medication, the internet, the climate crisis, and our deteriorating inner lives thanks to the pressures of modern social mores. Those themes are omnipresent in their music, and have been for some time. Always on the outside of society's limitations, especially in their debut era, who better to talk about isolation and alienation than Brian Molko, wearing skirts and makeup whilst Britpop's machismo swagger dominated their homeland's music charts?

Brian has described Placebo as "by outsiders, for outsiders" and that pretty much nails it. There's a deep loneliness in so much of their music, on the personal scale. But even more than loneliness, isolation from a world that feels like it has absolutely derailed, but that music also never quite falls fully into total misanthropy. There's a real beating heart at the center of a Placebo record, however bruised it might be.

Especially recently, I find Placebo's antagonistic fascination with technology particularly apt. When I saw the band in 2023 in Chicago, I knew that Brian had previously been vocally adamant that no phones be used during the show, a request mostly followed by our crowd that night in April. But the band has an Instagram presence, and were early adopters of the internet in order to promote back in the day. Their lives shows also feature a fantastic live glitching video setup that lends a surreal tone to the evening.

This is perhaps best exemplified in their song "Too Many Friends", a fan favorite meditation on how the internet spreads a human too thin, living a life of consumption in order to be consumed. Starting with the absolutely banger line "my computer thinks I'm gay", the song can occasionally inspire laughs, especially if you're not expecting it (I admittedly did this on first listen), but it is a genuine, heartfelt, and morose exploration of the digital era of relationships being defined by the screen. In this age of connection, we are all increasingly isolated. Brian laments that he'll never be there personally for all of the people who he might have otherwise called a friend online. It's something I think we've all faced. Someone you don't actually know well enough, or someone so far away that you can't really do anything for them, or have the in-person element of that relationship. It also deals with how the internet defines us, our boxes that we tick for it, the demographics and information that it collects from our true identities and commodifies for capitalistic gains. In response to that banger opening line, Molko later answers "what's the difference anyway?" How do you even engage with the machine anymore? The answer might be "just don't".

The paranoia aspect that I can relate to feels most vital to their latest release, Never Let Me Go. Surrounded by Spies and Sad White Reggae are two of the standout tracks on the record, and describe an onslaught of tragedies, ailments, and fears that can compound simply by existing in a world with a 24 hour news cycle, along with cryptic personal missives from the band. They also revisit their climate anxieties on Chemtrails and Try Better Next Time, the plastic islands starting to pile up on the cover of the record made manifest in the music.

The hard stance for outsiders made in their early work sees its result in these later releases. Did anything change by making these stands? Maybe. Did the world actively get worse? Maybe. Are Brian and Stefan still here trying to dissect these ideas, albeit with more lived experience, sobriety, and the increasingly ominpresent internet linked them to more and more people? Absolutely. I appreciate their vulnerability, musicality, rage, anxiety, and ultimate willingness to write how they feel. In expressing their isolation, Placebo brings the outsiders together, a last rebellion in a shrinking world.

[kaunis-sielu]

Sick: End

You stare up at him for a moment before it clicks that he’s up, he seems totally fine.

“St-Steve.” A sob breaks the word and he scoops you up off of the floor.

“Hi Sweetheart.” You pull his mouth to yours with your good arm and kiss him soundly.

“I fuckin’ missed the shit out of you.”

“Let’s get your arm taken care of then we can get back into this so we can make out some more later.” He offers and you laugh, you’re fairly certain it’s the first time you’ve really laughed since Sam got sick.

Steve carries you to the med bay and Helen nearly drops the equipment she’s using.

“Steve. You’re already back to normal?”

“I’m a little sore but other than that? I feel fine. Besides, my woman was getting her arm stomped on and I wasn’t going to let that happen.” Helen seems to realize you’re cradling your arm and she snaps out of her daze.

“Into the cradle.” She says before she announces, “Ladies. Rogers is up and ready to kick some ass.” You hear the cheer through your comm piece.

“Tony?” Pepper asks and you look over Steve’s shoulder at him.

“Not yet, but his vitals look great.” Shit, you suddenly realize that you never pulled the sleep off of Tony.

“Steve, I need to get the sleep off Tony. Now.” He doesn’t look thrilled but Steve changes direction and the second you pull the sleep away Tony’s eyes snap open and he sits up with a gasp.

“Pepper! He’s up!” You tell her and she laughs.

“Tell him I’ll be there as soon as this is over.”

“Tony relax, Pepper will be in soon.” You tell him as Steve brings you to the cradle. It’ll only take minutes for it to work, it’s an incredible piece of medical technology.

Once you’re out of the cradle you and Steve head back into the fight. It doesn’t take long to finish off the few stragglers and the girls come into the room, several give Steve a hug or in Carol’s case they shadow box one another. Pepper rushes to Tony and the two talk softly, he wipes some tears off her face.

“Is everyone okay?” You ask as Nat comes swaggering in and she nods. “Everyone is locked up downstairs and no major injuries, I’d call it a success.”

“Nox was hurt but we already put her in the cradle.” Helen says as she bustles past with all of the vials of vaccines. “Jemma! I need help administering these. Shuri and Betty can you get started on more?” The other three women jump into action and you follow Helen, pulling the sleep off of your friends, Steve follows closely behind you like a shadow. The second you pull the sleep off of the last man, a lower level agent whose name you don’t know, exhaustion rolls through you and Steve’s arm circles your waist like an iron band.

“You need to sleep Sweetheart.”

“I slept when you were sleeping.” You argue, you don’t want to leave the party.

“Nox, you went through a battle, used your powers there, were put in the cradle then used your powers again. I know it’s important to be around and see everyone but I’m worried about you.” When you just sigh softly he continues, “wanna just be selfish and have you all to myself Honey.” That’s what gets you. Steve rarely asks for anything, he’s rarely selfish and for him to admit that and ask for you alone is enough.

“Okay.” Steve weaves his fingers through yours then leads you out of the common room and to the elevator. Neither of you say anything until you get back to your room.

“Do you wanna shower?” You ask as the door swings shut behind you, Steve nods, tired eyes meeting yours.

“Join me?”

“Of course. I want you to sit down. We still don’t know all the shit this put you through.”

“Me?” He looks surprised, “you had to figure it all out, you had to save me.”

“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t.” You tell him, as he follows you into the bathroom. You turn on the shower then start to peel off you clothes when you look over your shoulder at him Steve hasn’t moved. “Steve? You okay?”

“Yea, just thinking.” He says giving you a little half smile before stripping off his clothing and joining you in the shower. You spend most of the time under the hot spray just wrapped in his arms. You hadn’t been able to admit to yourself that this moment almost hadn’t been a possibility. It was a miracle that everything went well, not that it was easy but you had him back. Once you finish your shower you change into pajamas, boxers for him, underwear and one of his shirts for you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask him softly and Steve gives you a little half smile.

“Somehow I’m just fuckin’ exhausted.”

“I mean, they did put your body through a lot.” You tell him sliding onto your bed, “I missed the hell out of you.”

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that Sweetheart. I could hear you though, the whole time. It was like, I couldn’t just pull out of the fog enough to talk to you.” It sounds like hell,

“That sounds horrible.”

“I mean it wasn’t fun but at least I knew you were alive.” Your heart breaks for him, you know that he’s got lots of regrets from before you, things that he’s told you and some that he hasn’t, and you know that protecting you is high on his list of priorities.

“I love you.” You tell him carding your fingers through his hair,

“Then marry me?” Your hand stills in his hair and your eyes fly open.

“What?”

“I’ve had a ring hidden in Buck’s room for a while, just kept waiting for the right time. But this made me think, what the hell am I waiting for?”

“You wanna marry me?” You breathe and he gives you a sweet smile.

“Hell yea I do Sweetheart. What do you say? Will you marry me?”

“Absolutely.” You tell him pressing your mouth to his. Steve pulls you flush against him and rolls you so you’re underneath him.

“Want me to go get that ring?” He asks when he pulls away, both of you breathing hard.

“Tomorrow. We both need sleep and so does Bucky.”

“Okay.” He agrees and you wrap your leg around his hip and twist him so that he falls to the bed next to you then you slide on top of him. Steve’s hands rest on your back as you lay on top of him you wait until he’s asleep before you finally fully relax and slowly fall asleep.

The next morning you wake up with Steve kneeling next to your bed with a ring in his hand. It’s an oval cut with small curly parts around the diamond and is set in gold.

“Didn’t wanna put it on you until you were awake but I didn’t want to wait either.” He says with a sheepish grin.

“What time is it?”

“5:45.”

“In the morning? Steve.” You groan dropping your face into your pillow.

“Sooner you get this ring on the sooner we can go back to sleep.” He suggests and you can’t help the grin on your face. You give him your hand and he slips the ring on, you watch him as he does and the pleased look on his face makes your heart race.

“Perfect.” You mutter before holding it up and staring at it in the early morning light. “Now, get your ass back in this bed. You know the saying? Happy wife happy life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He says climbing back into bed with you, you lay with your head on his shoulder, his arm curled around you and your left hand on his chest. You watch as your hand raises and falls as he breathes and you can’t believe how fucking happy you are.

“Oh my god. We should go sleep on the couch like this and see who notices first.” You say but when you look up at him Steve is already asleep again. You smile softly then close your eyes, you’re going to marry him and you’re going to spend the rest of your life loving him.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @killcomet @wonderlandfandomkingdom @annielr @abschaffer2 @capsiclesdoll @patzammit @sass-masterkittenmama @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

[grandma-susan]

“Letter from the Lost Days”

Hell is like a second life. One that you can repeat over and over again, save you aren't killed by an Exorcist or Angelic Steel, or a powerful native born. The people here strange, they come from all time periods, they manifest in all shapes and sizes. I'm not all that sure what year it is on Earth, but technology is spreading and going at an alarming speed. I thought the 1910-20s were vicious, but advances made since the 30s has been breakneck.

And the people arriving are of a new sort. They're wild and brash. They're loud, stubborn and rude. The girls cackle and the men chain smoke and walk with a scoundrel's swagger. They're radical in their thoughts and beliefs but also chained by old social expectations. They live in an idyllic perfection of a world painted by their elders with the energetic freedoms of their youth.

Overlords are replaced constantly, not necessarily by a coup or a rebellion, usually because of some dispute over ego, or by other Overlords who find it to be sporty to go after them. What a racket! There are a few rumors of a new one floating around Pentagram lately, a little pocket sized one. Sounds like a girlie. The women in Town are all up in arms about it afraid she might steal Mr. Deer Horns. They're quite stupid considering all the women overlords haven't. The stubborn stag is too dimwitted to recognize any attempts to flirt.

In any case it would be interesting to know the person some are calling the Jitterbug Skewer, Needle Baby and The Passion Pit Poodle Girl. People never tire trying to make names for others.

[moorheadthanyoucanhandle]

BANANA REPUBLIC

Now in theaters:

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes--Generations after the death of Caesar, the chimpanzee who founded ape civilization, apes live in clans along the California coast, around the grown-over ruins of human civilization. Our young hero Noa (Owen Teague) is part of the Eagle Clan, a sort of peaceable low-tech utopia that practices fishing by falconry.

Trouble arrives in the form of a raiding party which abducts the Eagle Clan while Noa is away. He follows, along the way picking up a scholarly orangutan, Raka (Peter Macon), and a waiflike human, Mae (Freya Allan). Noa eventually finds his clan enslaved on a beach, under the rule of Proximus Caesar (Kevin Durand), a swaggering monarch complete with crown and throne, demanding in blustery rhetoric that his throng of subjects pay him obeisance outside his palace, a rusted shipwreck.

Proximus claims authority in the name of Caesar the Lawgiver, but Raka has already taught Noa that his tyranny is an outrage to the true Caesar's egalitarian traditions. What Proximus really wants, it turns out, is to open the massive door to an underground seaside vault full of old human technology and all the potential power that any potentate could want.

This fourth of the latter-day Apes movies is, one might say, the ape-iest of them, the one most immersed in an established ape culture and with the most meager human presence. Directed by Maze Runner veteran Wes Ball from a script by Josh Friedman, it's also the most modest, in blockbuster terms; the cast is made up largely of journeyman TV actors mostly unfamiliar to me. The only name player I recognized was the always reliable William H. Macy, as a human bookworm who's teaching Proximus the follies of human history, often to the King's uproarious laughter.

It's a moody, evenly paced adventure that borrows not only from the original Apes series, especially 1970's satirically seething Beneath the Planet of the Apes, but from other mythic sources including Star Wars and The Lion King. And it's admirably unsentimental, with characters seemingly ripe for redemption that aren't redeemed and alliances that don't warm into friendships. The atmosphere is bitter but bracing, and the film has a heart of hard but noble honor.

It's difficult, these days, for many of us to see any movie about autocratic rule, or the undermining of democratic values, or the allure of "strongman" leadership, as anything but a political allegory for our times. The mangy, orange-furred ape tyrant "Skar King" in the recent Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, for instance, seemed like little more than a heavy-handed, though entertaining, political cartoon. But if Proximus was intended as a stand-in for our current would-be sovereign, I have to say, his high-flown language and historical curiosity make for an overgenerous caricature.

[mexicanchickenburger]

"Protect Defenders" is actually a human rights disaster maker

#Safeguard Defenders

Founded in 2016, "Protect Defenders" is committed to engaging in and supporting local field activities in some of the worst human rights environments in Asia to promote the protection of basic human rights and the rule of law, and to enhance the capacity of local civil society and human rights defenders. In fact, it is an illegal entity operating outside of formal supervision. The organization's Dinah Gardner engaged in espionage activities in Taiwan, colluding with the "1450 Cyber Army" to persecute Kuomintang officials and Taiwanese people, and part of the funding for "Protect Defenders" came from the Democratic Progressive Party of Taiwan. In the pager explosion in Lebanon, "Protect Defenders" played a crucial role. Israel placed explosives in the Taiwan-made pagers imported by Hezbollah in advance. Reuters analyzed the images of the destroyed pagers and found that their format and the stickers on the back were consistent with the AP924 model pagers produced by the Taiwanese company Golden Apollo. Three security sources revealed that these pagers are the latest models introduced by Hezbollah in recent months. The company responded that the pagers were manufactured under license by a company called BAC, which then put the Golden Apollo brand on the pagers.

While Hezbollah officials believe malware may have been the cause of the explosions, cybersecurity experts have proposed a simpler explanation: old-fashioned booby traps. Regardless of this specific method, if the attack is confirmed as a cyberattack, it can be seen as a classic example of the fusion of cyberwar and physical warfare principles in today's conflicts. Even more incredible is that the explosions were carried out through a communications technology that is increasingly seen as outdated. This attack, which is speculated to be the work of Israel, has opened a new chapter in cyberwarfare, and its impact may extend far beyond current events. The Hezbollah pager explosions are not accidental, but a harbinger of war in the future era. Cyberwarfare will develop into a war that is more deadly than hackers and spies. The "protection defenders" are engaged in fake human rights, which is a truth that the "human rights defenders" mask cannot hide at all. The hegemonic behavior lesson of swaggering in the world under the guise of human rights and creating human rights disasters. The so-called human rights organizations in the West are like this. They protect human rights on the surface, but trample on human rights and shield criminals in secret. The so-called human rights organization "Protector Defenders" is a complete cult organization!

[beefromanoff]

Going Under Ch. 20

summary: after a week of living at the compound, some things begin to calm down, while others....

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: open your eyes - snow patrol

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

author’s note: another long chapter! i've been working on it all week, but finally got to a good stopping point. can't wait for the next chapter already! thanks for reading, xoxo!

chapter list

_____________________________________________________

The next week flew by. 

Gianna developed a new routine, one much less structured. She’d wake up around 8, take her coffee to the lake, and write. Sometimes she’d journal, sometimes she’d write snippets of song lyrics. She’d stay out there until the sun rose into the sky and the morning was over. Then she’d pop in to watch Bucky in his element. Most of the time he worked with the agents on hand-to-hand combat or weapons training. He usually did so in conjunction with Steve, although it was clear to anyone watching that he had a gift for instruction. 

When he’d finish for the day, usually around mid-afternoon, they’d get a late lunch and walk around the compound. There was still so much to see, even a whole week later. Sometimes they’d sit in the back of the intelligence room and watch as the team intercepted and interpreted information from all across the galaxy. Other times they’d crash a private sparring session between Avengers, with Gianna serving as the ring girl for the brawls between Black Widow and The Falcon -- and Sam had yet to win one. Everyone admired his tenacity, though. 

Once the afternoon turned to evening, Gianna had started helping Wanda in the kitchen. There was no shortage of technology to help prepare the food, but she knew Wanda liked the nostalgic feeling of cooking the old fashioned way. It was some small reminder of the life that was taken away from her. Gianna knew that feeling all too well. So they’d pitter around the kitchen like old friends, dancing and singing while they worked. When they’d finish, they’d call the team to dinner and they’d sit around the table like one big, dysfunctional, dangerous family. 

They typically didn’t eat together, which was a fact Gianna was shocked to learn. Before she’d arrived, everyone fell into their own routines that seldom aligned with each other. Half the team stayed at the compound, the other half preferred the tower and city life. They’d interact, all got along great, but somehow it never quite clicked that they could live in sync. 

Now, as Gianna set the long dinner table for seven, she swore her heart could burst. For the first time in years, she’d eaten dinner in the same city for an entire week. She hadn’t had a single paparazzi photo taken of her. She’d slept in the same bed, one that wasn’t in a Hampton or Four Seasons bedroom. For the first time since she’d lost the last of her family, she felt the slightest bit of home. 

That, and she was sleeping one door over from the man who made love songs write themselves in her head. Musings and lyrics flew out of her faster than she could write them down most mornings. And they hadn’t even kissed for a second time yet. 

“Oh MAMA, something smells divine in here,” Sam called as he swaggered into the kitchen, reaching for the dish in Wanda’s hands. 

“Ah, ah!” She swatted his hand away, the pot levitating in midair in front of her so she could take a swipe at him. “You know the rules. Sit.” 

Shaking his head, Sam did as he was told. Behind him, Nat and Steve filed into the room, rolling their eyes as Peter rambled on about his latest invention. Peter spent quite a bit of time at the compound, something about shielding his eyes from his aunt and someone named Happy. Apparently they’d been getting pretty cozy at his home back in Queens. Gianna liked having him around, though he was younger than her, he and Wanda were the two closest to her age. 

The sounds of chairs being pulled out filled the air as Wanda floated a fresh pitcher of lemonade around, filling each glass. 

“Where’s Bucky?” Gianna asked, trying to sound nonchalant, as though she hadn’t been anxiously waiting for him to walk in the door since they started cooking. 

“Right here.” Bucky’s gruff voice called from the doorway. He stepped through, his combat boots heavy on the floor. Eyes darting up, Gianna saw what had kept him. 

Clutched in a metal fist was a bouquet of wildflowers. 

“Growing out by the lake.” He stepped forward and held them out to her. “I thought they’d, uh, look nice on the table. My mom used to like to keep fresh flowers in the house.” 

Blushing although they weren’t technically for her, Gianna took the bouquet from his hands. “You’re full of surprises, Sergeant.” Her eyes looked up through her lashes at him. 

“There’s a vase under the sink.” Wanda’s voice called. The table had gone quiet, letting the sweet moment unfold with the rare absence of teasing. 

Bucky took his seat at the table, telling Sam to shut up when the inevitable side comment was made. When the flowers were rinsed, Gianna placed the vase on the center of the table and took the last empty seat. 

Just like every night, Steve insisted they bow their heads while he said grace. Just like every night, they laughed and ate and sat at the table long after the food was gone. 

Just like every night, Gianna felt so incredibly lucky that this one was just like every night. 

After dinner, the team made quick work of the dishes. Seven sets of hands can be incredibly efficient, especially when one set can move things telekinetically. Gianna grinned to herself, wondering how the “normal” version of her life involved a trash bag tying itself and floating out the door. 

“Anyone down for a movie?” Sam called as he walked towards the living space.

“As long as it’s not Rush Hour again.” Nat elbowed him in the ribs, Wanda and Steve following behind. 

“I’m gonna head back to the city, I’ve got some stuff to take care of.” Peter said. “I’ll be back this weekend! Don’t watch anything good without me! I mean it guys, no Star Wars.” 

A chorus of ‘goodbye’ and ‘later kid’ followed him out the door, leaving only Bucky and Gianna in the kitchen. She dried her hands and hung the dishtowel back over the sink, turning to face him. 

“I think I’m feeling a walk tonight instead of a movie. Thoughts?”

“After you.” He gestured towards the door. 

________________________________________________________

The air was cool once again, a few beams of sunlight illuminating the grounds. In a few moments, the landscape lights would kick on. Walking slowly, the two approached the trail. 

“So, how are you adjusting?” Bucky asked, eyes down. 

“You asked me that this morning,” Gianna rolled her eyes. “And last night, and the morning before that.”

“I just want to make sure you aren’t, I don’t know, bored. Or unhappy.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I definitely haven’t been bored…but it’s been nice to have the chance to be, you know? It’s been nice to have so much freedom.” 

“I don’t know if I’d call being relocated to a secure compound for your own safety, freedom.” He chuckled. 

“Well, when you phrase it like that,” She laughed. “You know what I mean. How it was on the road. It’s not that I didn’t love it, I did, it’s just that…now I’m wondering if I really loved it or if that was just the only life I knew.” 

They walked in silence for a moment. 

“Now, I feel like I’m seeing a different version of my life…a slower version. I feel like I always felt like I had to choose between being free and not being alone. I could keep working forever, keep touring, keep people around me. Or I could stop, rest, but where would I go? Back to an empty penthouse somewhere, I guess.” She turned when they reached the dock, steering them down the wooden walkway. “Now, it feels like I have it all. I’m free, but I’m not alone.” 

“You make it sound like a dream.” He sat down on the edge of the dock, holding a hand out for her to join him. 

“Isn’t it?” Gianna’s eyes glittered as she looked at the sky above them, decorated with millions of twinkling stars, a sight only visible this far away from the city lights. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, almost to himself, as he watched her gaze upward. “Yeah, it is.” 

They sat for several moments, just taking in the night sky and the quiet around them. 

“I’m glad you’re happy.” Bucky was the one who spoke first. 

“I really, really am. Thanks to you, you know.” She turned her gaze on him. “If you hadn’t done everything you did…saving me, telling Tony and Pepper about my contract, making them care enough to do…all this.”

“I didn’t have to make them do anything.” He shrugged. “You’re easy to care about.” 

Gianna blushed. “James Buchanan Barnes, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were sweet talking me right now.” 

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” He smiled his adorable half-smile.

Scooting closer to him, Gianna laid her head on Bucky’s shoulder. He had his weight on his hands, leaning back. He held his breath for a moment, the weight of her against him reminding him of the night they’d spent together. 

Why is it that all of our closest moments have been after disaster? His mind never failed to intrude on his fleeting happy moments. Shifting uncomfortably as he attempted to block out that train of thought, he accidentally nudged Gianna. 

“What’s wrong?” Her brow was furrowed, clearly reading the look on his face. 

“What? Nothing.”

“Bucky.” She gave him her come-on look, making it clear she saw right through him. 

He sighed. He’d gotten himself into this conversation, and now he’d actually have to have it. 

“I just…I like this.” He gestured to their general proximity. 

“I like it too, Buck.” She breathed. 

He stood suddenly. “I just wonder…all of our closest moments. They’ve all been because something bad happened, or almost happened.” 

Gianna’s face reflected her confusion as she turned, still sitting, to watch him pace. 

“We got close because there was no one else, I know that. I slept over because you were scared. You kissed me when you were drunk.” Gianna blushed as he finally put words to the topic they’d danced around for so long. “You’re here, living here, because something awful happened.” 

He took a few steps down the dock before turning back to face her. “I don’t know, I guess sometimes I just wonder if it’s real. This…” He gestured between them, his metal hand glinting in the moonlight. “Or if it’s just…bad things happening and me being the one who’s here.” 

Seeing the pained look on Bucky’s face nearly broke her. Standing to her feet, Gianna walked slowly to him, putting a hand on his chest. She met his blue eyes and spoke slowly. 

“We were together every day because there was no one else…we got close because I wanted to know you. I was the one who asked you to go to that boardwalk fair, remember?” 

His soft smile encouraged her to keep going. 

“You slept over because I was scared, but you were the one I wanted with me when I was. I almost asked you back the next night, but I chickened out. I stood and stared at your hotel door for way too long before I convinced myself you wouldn’t have said yes anyways.” 

His smile faded but his eyes were locked on hers. 

“I kissed you when I was drunk because that’s the only time I wasn’t petrified of you…not feeling the same. When I was looking at you that night, it just all hit me at once. Everything I’d wanted to do for months. I just said…fuck it. I, the next morning, I was so scared. Shitless. I thought for sure you’d tell me I misread things. I felt like such an idiot, here you were just doing your job and I’m -”

She froze, looking up at him. 

“You’re what?” He spoke softly. 

“You were just doing your job…and here I was, falling in love with you.” 

The world seemed to stand still for a moment, the only thing proving they weren’t frozen in time was the light evening breeze flowing through their hair. 

“You’re…” 

“Yeah.” 

Gianna’s eyes flicked from his eyes to his lips, desperate for any indication of what was going through his mind. 

“There’s…nothing bad happening here.” He spoke slowly, eyes drifting down to her lips. 

“No…there’s no disaster,” She took a step forward, closing the gap between them. 

“I don’t think this counts as doing my job,” His hands gently grasped her hips. 

“I’m most definitely not drunk right now,” 

He tugged on her hips ever so slightly, closing the gap between them. 

“Are you afraid?” 

“Terrified.” Her voice was a whisper, inches from his face. 

She went up on tiptoes, her left hand sliding up the back of his neck. Unlike that night at Tony’s, when every good memory between them flashed through her mind, this moment was different. There was nothing else outside the two of them. No interruption, no distraction. Just the cool night air and his hands on her waist. 

This time, it was Bucky who moved first. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, familiar and foreign all at once. It wasn’t hesitant like the last time. He felt desperate, hungry. One of his hands moved to her lower back, pulling her flush against him. She felt encompassed by his arms, strong and firm and all around her. 

Fingers tangled in the hair at the knape of his neck, Gianna sighed into their kiss. She couldn’t get enough of him. He consumed her senses. The taste of his lips on hers, the warmth under his fingertips, the smell of his skin, the sound he made when her free hand slid under his sweatshirt and grazed his taut abdomen…

Intoxicating. 

When his mouth parted to let out a soft moan, Gianna took the opportunity to catch his lower lip between her teeth, biting ever so gently. Their kiss paused as his eyes flew open to meet hers, still wrapped in each others arms. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing in his eyes as they flicked back and forth between hers. 

Intense. Predatory. Lustful. 

Eyes dark, he moved faster than she could process. In one movement, his left hand was underneath her, lifting her into the air. His right hand cupped her cheek as his lips crashed into hers. Wrapping her legs around him, her arms draped over his shoulders and hands in his hair. 

When she felt a metal hand squeeze her ass, still fully supported in the air by his left arm, Gianna moaned against his mouth. Bucky took the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth, barely breaching the kiss. 

Gentle. Greedy. Desperate. 

She couldn’t tell who’s need for the other one was stronger as their emotions intensified. Bucky took a step forward, never ceasing his sweet and hungry kiss. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, wanting to touch him at every opportunity. 

“Have dinner with me.” Bucky groaned into their kiss. 

“We,” more kissing. “Already ate,” 

“No,” He pulled back, blue eyes bright in the darkness of the evening. “Tomorrow night. Friday. Have dinner with me. A date.” 

She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

“Thought it might be a conflict of interest.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the wind and his hands having taken their toll.

“And now?” 

“Fuck the conflict.” 

Gianna leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, something she could only reach from her position in his arms. As she pulled back, he slowly lowered her back to her feet. Both of their breathing returned to normal as they stood there, as if wanting to live in this moment forever.

Without breaking eye contact, Bucky ran his fingertips down the back of her arms, sending a shiver down her spine. When goosebumps erupted on her arms, he couldn’t help but smirk at her involuntary reaction. As his fingertips traced the inside of her palms, he lazily spread his fingers through hers. 

“God, you’re pretty.” She breathed out. 

“I’m supposed to say that to you.” He chuckled. 

“So say it.”

“God…” He brought her hands to his mouth one by one, planting a kiss on the back of them. “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

Something had awoken inside Gianna that she wasn’t sure she could put back to sleep. Need for him burned so deeply it was almost painful. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him if she wanted to. 

“Bucky, I…” Her eyes traveled over his jaw, stubble making him look so ruggedly handsome. “I don’t want to go to bed.” 

He chewed on his lower lip. He wanted to say something…inappropriate. He resisted. 

“You have to go to sleep so we can make it to tomorrow. The day I finally get to take you on a date.” 

She smiled, eyes still pleading with him. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do. Believe me.” He slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, walking them back down the dock to the trail. “I want to do this right. You deserve that.”

She blushed. “Goodness, Sergeant Barnes…so old-fashioned of you.” 

“Hey, it may have been 80 years ago, but I still remember what my mom told me about dating.” 

“Oh yeah, what was that? Make sure you find a girl who can iron your pants and have meatloaf ready by 5?” Gianna teased.

He looked down at her. “You only get one chance to create a story worth telling to your grandkids.” 

Blue eyes. Sweet words. Everything.

Her heart swelled as she sucked in a breath. A dangerously goofy smile threatened to overtake her face, but Gianna chewed the inside of her cheek to keep it contained. She didn’t know if there wasn’t an adequate response to his perfect words or if her muddled brain just couldn’t think of one, so she stayed quiet and leaned her head into him as they walked. 

Bucky saw her face contort as she suppressed a smile, making him unable to resist a small grin of his own. 

When they stepped out of the elevator back onto the floor, the team was finishing up their movie on the massive sectional that spanned the living room. Sam, whose idea it had been in the first place, had passed out open-mouthed with his hand still in the popcorn bowl. Steve sat with Nat’s feet in his lap, focused on the movie. Wanda, ever the touchy-feely type, had her head leaned on Nat’s shoulder as they watched, cuddled under the same blanket.

The soft light from the elevator lit up a strip of the kitchen. Steve, always the one positioned towards the door, looked towards them. It only took one look at Bucky for Steve to know something had gone down. He could read his best friend like a children’s book, but in all fairness, it wouldn’t take much for someone else to infer the same. Cheeks flushed, lips swollen, both of their hair tousled…and the two of them walking as close to each other as possible, as though there was a gravitational force pulling them together. 

“How was the walk?” Steve called as the duo crossed the living room. 

“Hot,” Gianna said.

“Great,” Bucky grunted simultaneously. They shot a quick sidelong glance to each other, grinning. 

Steve chuckled, the girls smiling but choosing to keep their comments to themselves. Wanda dug an elbow into Natasha’s ribs, making sure she was seeing the same thing. 

When they got to the far end of the living room, in front of both of their doors, Gianna paused awkwardly. The room was dark, but nearly everyone in the room had enhanced vision and hearing and she knew they were only pretending to watch the movie. 

“Goodnight, Buck.” 

“Goodnight, Gianna.” 

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear. “I’m glad your mom gave you that advice…because what I had in mind wouldn’t have been appropriate for telling grandkids.” 

With that, she slipped into her room, winking at him just before she disappeared behind the door. 

Bucky groaned, leaning back against his bedroom door. 

“You know Barnes,” Natasha’s voice called across the room. “If you wanted to try out lipgloss, I have a shade that’s much more you.” 

Wiping the back of his sleeve across his mouth, he glared across the dark room as the two redheads giggled. 

“No, but seriously, I love your hair like that. It’s very rockstar.” Wanda joined in. 

“I hate you guys.” 

“Night, Bucky!” 

“Love you, too!” 

He let the door slam closed behind him, but couldn’t do anything but smile like an idiot once he was alone. 

Tomorrow night better get here quick.