#they are Capable of working together well

[spiritofsisu]

He captured Harper's Ferry with his nineteen men so true,

He frightened poor Virginny 'til she trembled through and through,

They hung him for a traitor, themselves the traitor crew!

His soul goes marching on!

I might do a post on this later, for all of my shitposting I have a handful of things I'm fairly passionate about - albeit typically through Rose-tinted glasses. But the Civil War, in particular, and the growth of the abolitionist cause, not simply the sovereign impetuous to restore territorial and political unity within the Union from a separatist state. I lived in the South for a while when I was a kid, and I think I grew up with a bit of the 'Lost Cause,' myth in my bones - Yankees were these 'Mercenary Killers from the North come to strip us of right and property,' but they outspokenly got their 'Asses Whipped, until that butcher Grant wasted all his men and beat us ):, but we was valiant!' And like every myth, I think there's at least a kernel of truth.

I don't know the dates off the top of my head, and I'm sure I'm going to misquote something, but the mention of dear John Brown has roused me to some sort of pseudo-accurate fever pitch of liberty.

For a while, 1861-1863, I think it's absolutely fair to personify the Army of the Union as - in the case of the Army of 1861 - an ill-disciplined mob led by Generals who really didn't understand the war they were fighting. The last war the states had engaged in was against the Mexicans, and that war was fought in the classic Napoleonic Style. Turns out - we were pretty good at that! And so Generals on both sides, (at least in the East), have this conception of the 'Decisive Battle,' which by 1865 the concept of the 'Decisive Battle,' reads a lot like the 1965 idea of 'Blitzkrieg,' - a sort of fever dream 'buzzword,' of military doctrine that everyone is steaming towards because - yeah, it will reflect good on these largely political Generals to go out there, smash up the rebels once or twice, and win the war. And put into that context, the army, and the Generals that enter Bull's Run make a lot more sense. It was in every sense of the word, a Napoleonic citizen Army. And to briefly talk about the recruitment system of the North. (Which will never get fixed for the record.) Both sides struggled with getting bodies in Uniforms, at first they could utilize the existing military apparatus which by 1861 was tiny. There *was* a federal army but it was ridiculously small, and meant primarily to police the frontiers. Meaning a lot of what they had to work with was State Militias, and they varied WILDLY in quality, but this was the sort of fighting they were ideal for.

The Military doctrine of the states at the time was, a small Federal Army, designed primarily to keep the peace. Put down a rebellion here, scare off the British there, 'Protect' (Dubious) frontier settlements from Native American raids, etc. And to that end, a federal 'Regular,' was far more comparable to say a European Light Infantryman. The US was not gearing up to fight long, protracted wars with their neighbors so much as the central government was just trying to keep the wheels on the car so to speak. So the Federal Army was prototyped with the Legion of the United States.

The idea of the Legion, to really greatly oversimplify it - was to bring together all the things the Army did really well during the Revolutionary War - which was as Nathan Bedford Forrest would later coin 'Getting there firstest with the Mostest,'. Which, we heeded at our successes and ignored at our peril.

A fast moving, relatively hard hitting, small force of infantry and light cavalry - capable of rapidly responding to developing threats on the frontier. This later evolved into the Federal Army, for numerous reasons that escape me. And it sucks because by 1812, the army ditched the cool tarleton hats, and french style uniforms for the comparatively plain, though admittedly far more soldierly Anglo style pictured below. This picture actually depicts the soldiers with French style shakos, though later on in the war these with be replaced with British style 'Belgic,' shakos. But depending on the unit it varied, something you'll realize we never quite sorted out until like, 1920 - was how to keep our units uniformly supplied. So. Whoops.

Part 1/??? I'm absurdly hungry

[distantreverbs]

Tonight's episode really highlighted how Buck and Eddie actually have a very conditional and somewhat one-sided friendship, something that deeply contrasts the romantic relationship between Buck and Tommy. Because despite the latter couples woes, they have shown time and time again the unconditional and pure love they are capable of sharing together, which will only be amplified once they work through their current shortcomings as a couple.

Buck and Eddie;

While Evan Buckley has so often offered Eddie — and many others, to be clear — his unconditional love and support, he has also embarked on an endless journey of self-reflection. He may not be perfect and he has no doubt made some pretty significant mistakes throughout the show, but what he is is someone who is capable of looking inward, learning, and doing his best to improve, even if the process is sometimes messy or slow and too little too late. No, Buck isn't perfect, but by god, he's continuously evolving and maturing.

(I'm sorry, but Evan Buckley is very much not the one who has been stuck on the hamster wheel like so many in fandom love to claim. That lovely "honor" would actually go to Eddie Diaz.)

Buck also has a lot of love in his heart, to the point where it sometimes overwhelms and leads him astray. But even so, his intentions are almost always pure and connected to the important people in his life. In summation, his heart and the love cast from it is extremely unconditional and wrapped within a casing of overwhelming loyalty and selflessness, some missteps aside.

Eddie Diaz, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. He'll love Buck — and other people, to be clear — but with a condition, one that is so often unspoken, but always lurking beneath the surface. With Eddie and conflict — be it his own or belonging to others simply seeking his guidance and support — there always seems to be this line drawn in the sand, a line representing what Eddie is and is not willing to put up with. And once you cross that line, he'll have very little patience or consideration for you and your feelings. It will show through not just overt or passive aggression, but also unapologetic projection.

The way he came at Buck in tonight's episode is a glaring representation of this:

It's easier for Eddie Diaz to look at everything as black and white, especially when it's convenient for his narrative, than it is to partake in self-reflection pertaining to his personal grief and struggles. It's easier to put the blame on his best friend, rather than acknowledge how he is not processing his own grief very well at all. It is easier to accuse his best friend, who is clearly hurting and crying out for help, that he's being selfish, than to make any attempt at taking on the pain of others while also grappling with his own. It is easier for him to fly his son back to LA to distract his best friend, than it is to take any semblance of accountability for his recent actions and actually fucking apologize. (Hoping this ages poorly because he apologizes in the finale.) It is so much easier to accuse his best friend of making everything about himself, than to acknowledge that, in this moment, he's actually the one doing so. It is easier for Eddie to grab Buck, corner him, and generally physically intimidate him, than it is to actually hear Buck out and understand his reasoning and perspective. Because... God forbid, he has his often black and white ideologies — and the emotions rooted in them — challenged. It's easier for Eddie Diaz to keep repeating the same mistakes in his life, than it is to actually work on his issues and truly evolve, even if those mistakes trickle down to the people around him, including his own son.

In summation, if Buck and Eddie were actually canonically together, I would be praying that the writers were setting up a season finale breakup, so that Buck can move on with his life and find someone who won't minimize his feelings to highlight their own, all while using physical aggression to intimidate and shut him down, or use their son to manipulate him into forgetting about what happened. Because whether the writers intend to follow up on this or not, or do or do not recognize the severity of Eddie's actions, I know what bullshit I witnessed unfold on my screen tonight.

Buck and Tommy;

I'll just be blunt here because this post is already in danger of getting too long...

Tommy Kinard would never pull the type of shit Eddie Diaz just did. Tommy may have some issues of his own that he needs to address — including his own tendency to project onto others, in addition to running away versus talking shit out. But had he been the one with Buck tonight, he would have never minimized the pain Buck was experiencing just to elevate his own, nor would he have grabbed and cornered Buck to maximize the severity of his pain and anger.

At "worst", Tommy would have gently reminded Buck to remember that people are grieving in their own way, similar to how Maddie handled Chimney, or Karen handled Athena, in the very same episode. And he would have done so, all while still considering and prioritizing Buck's feelings. And at best, Tommy would have asked Buck how he could best be there for him, because that's the type of person Tommy is. And to give Buck his own credit, he would have apologized if Tommy expressed needing more support and consideration, and then followed through after said apology. And Tommy would have been completely receptive of this and worked with Buck to ensure that both of them received the emotional support and consideration they both need. Because, ultimately, they are both mature and emotionally loving and supportive individuals — again, some missteps aside. While Eddie Diaz, sorry — but not sorry — has shown he just isn't. Not yet, at least. Buck and Tommy have shown they're capable of being a true partnership in all the ways that matter, while Eddie has made his friendship with Buck incredibly one-sided.

(Man, Buck. I am honestly proud of the man you've evolved into. You've come a long way, despite some in this fandom pretending you haven't and gleefully waiting for you to crash and burn more than your loved ones and other colleagues whenever a challenging situation occurs.)

While Eddie is quick to make Buck feel like he and his problems are "too much" to take on, Tommy would be mortified if he ever did the same, much less more than once.

I'm so glad Buck will have Tommy back in his corner soon, whether it be in the finale or sometime during 9A, because Tommy is the person Buck so clearly needs in his life right now. Buck needs someone who is going to reciprocate everything he is so eager to offer, and Tommy so clearly needs and is willing to do the same.

[mintedwitcher]

ykw Buck should transfer to a new station.

he is barely keeping it together, and it's not that no one is noticing, they just don't care. to them, Buck's the guy who fixes things, Buck's the dorky, stupidly lovable golden retriever that they all get to tease and make fun of. Buck's the kid of the team, the one who needs to be kept in the dark so the big important things don't upset him.

Evan Buckley is a person. he is a grown ass adult, he is a capable firefighter, he is a supportive and protective friend. he cares with every ounce of himself, and he has never, not ever received that same level of care back, not from anyone on that goddamn team. the only person in the 118 who has ever actually noticed him was Bobby, and now Bobby's gone.

so why should Buck stay? why should he stick around with the people who clearly don't care about him? they know he's grieving, they know that he's overcompensating by trying to assess everyone else, and after eight goddamn years working together, they should know that Buck is never going to outright ask for help, because his worst fear is being a burden to anyone. there is a reason that the only people he's talked to this episode were Tia Pepa and a FUCKING PRIEST, and he's not even religious. his so-called "friends" don't value him, they don't care about him, they only care about what he can do for them.

and I've called Eddie out for this before, but this time, I'm aiming at ALL of the 118. they don't care about him.

I am so sick of seeing this behaviour repeated, year after year after year, with nothing ever changing, while the show pretends like these people love each other so much and that they're a "family".

well sure, if they're a family, Evan Buckley is, once again, the spare parts.

[sturnsblogs]

Babysitter

Loser!Matt X Popular!Reader

Word count- 1400

Warnings- Mattitude.

The office smells like stale coffee and stress. You shift uncomfortably in the chair across from the principal’s desk, still unsure why you were called in. You try to replay the last week in your head—no skipped classes, no fights, no dress code violations (this time).

“You’re one of our more socially engaged students,” Principal Martin says with a smile that immediately makes you suspicious. “You’re outgoing. Involved. Well-liked by your peers.”

Your eyes narrow. “Are you buttering me up for something?”

They chuckle, opening a folder and sliding a paper closer to them. “We have a student who’s… struggling. Matthew Sturniolo.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Matt?

“You mean the guy who ignores every group project, wears his hoodie over his head all day, and basically growls at anyone who looks at him?”

Principal Martin gives a patient smile. “He’s been disengaged. He’s failing most of his core classes. Teachers say he won’t participate. Won’t speak. He needs a… nudge.”

You stare. “And you want me to be the nudge?”

“We’d like you to… connect with him. Check in. Sit near him when you can. Maybe offer to work together in class. Just… be friendly. Help him come out of his shell.”

Your laugh comes out sharp. “You want me to babysit him.”

“We’re calling it ‘peer support.’ He needs someone approachable, and frankly—he’s not going to respond to a lecture or another meeting with a guidance counselor.”

You slump back in the chair. “He doesn’t even like people.”

“Which is exactly why we think you might be the right person. You’re persistent.”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. A glowing recommendation for your file would shut your parents up for at least a week.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But if he tells me to leave him alone, I’m blaming you.”

Principal Martin chuckles. “Noted.”

You’re about to stand up and leave when the door clicks open behind you.

“Ah—Matt,” Principal Martin says, standing a little too quickly. “Thanks for coming down.”

You turn, and there he is.

Matt Sturniolo.

Same messy curls, same headphones hanging around his neck, same silver chains catching the light when he steps in. He doesn’t make eye contact. Doesn’t say a word. Just slides into the chair as if it physically pains him to be here.

You watch him glance your way—just once—and then immediately look away like your presence offended him. His jaw tightens. His legs bounce. He slouches deep into the chair and picks at the rip in his jeans, ignoring the principal entirely.

“Matt,” Martin says slowly, like he’s speaking to a bomb, “this is Y/N. She’s agreed to help you out in a few of your classes. Group work, study support. Just someone to check in with.”

Matt scoffs under his breath. Loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes snap to him. “Problem?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just tilts his head, eyes flickering toward your bold eyeshadow and glossy lips before he smirks—barely.

“Didn’t know this was a charity case,” he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t know being rude was a personality.”

He shrugs. Doesn’t respond.

Principal Martin clears their throat, trying to salvage the awkward silence.

“Let’s give this a chance. Matt, you’re capable of a lot more than your grades show. Y/N is just here to help you—if you let her.”

Matt leans back in the chair and finally meets your eyes. Cold. Guarded. Judging.

“I don’t need help,” he says flatly. “Especially not from someone who looks like they came out of a makeup aisle fight.”

Your stomach twists—but you smile, because that’s what you’re trained to do.

“Awesome. This is going to be so fun,” you deadpan.

Martin forces another smile, clearly praying this doesn’t turn into a war.

“I’m sure once you two get to know each other, this will be a productive partnership.”

You and Matt exchange another look.

You’re both thinking the same thing:

No, it won’t.

You’re already planning how you’re going to avoid this kid as much as possible—pretend to help, fake your way through a few “study sessions,” and keep your life intact.

But of course, Principal Martin just has to make it worse.

“We’re going to help this arrangement run as smoothly as possible,” he says, smiling like they didn’t just trap you in a nightmare. “So I’ve spoken to your guidance counselor, and we’re working on adjusting your schedule to match Matt’s. That way, you’ll be in all the same classes and can sit together consistently.”

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

“What?”

“We’re switching a few of your periods,” Martin says, like it’s no big deal. “You’ll still meet your credit requirements, don’t worry. And we’ll make sure your extracurriculars aren’t affected—”

“No,” you cut in, shaking your head. “No, no, no. I have classes with all my friends. I’m in advanced lit. Honors chem. You can’t just move me around like that.”

Your voice cracks slightly, and you hate that it does.

Matt, still slouched in his seat, glances sideways at you. His expression doesn’t change much, but his mouth twitches into something cruel.

“They’re all fake anyway,” he says under his breath, just loud enough to make sure you hear it.

You whip your head toward him. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs, eyes still trained on the floor.

“Your friends. Your little fan club. Bet half of them talk about you the second you leave the room.”

Your stomach drops, anger mixing with something else—something closer to hurt. Because deep down, you’ve thought the same thing before.

Still, you fold your arms and scoff. “At least I have friends.”

He finally looks at you again. His eyes are sharp, unreadable. “Must be exhausting.”

Principal Martin clears his throat, breaking the tension before it explodes.

“I know this is a lot, but it’s temporary. Just until midterms. Think of it as… a challenge. A leadership opportunity.”

You sink back in the chair, jaw tight, throat burning. You want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

Instead, you stare at the wall and say nothing.

Matt’s already put his headphones on.

You hold the new schedule in your hand like it’s a death certificate.

Period 1: English 12 – Room 108

Period 2: Pre-Calc – Room 203

Period 3: History – Room 115

…and so on.

Every single class—every one—now matches Matt Sturniolo’s.

You feel your stomach twist again as the bell rings for passing period. The hallway floods with voices, slamming lockers, and the faint scent of Axe body spray and cafeteria chicken nuggets.

You step out of the office just as Matt does. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t wait—just tugs his hoodie over his head, headphones back on, and starts walking toward first period like you don’t exist.

You stare at his back for a beat.

And then something in you snaps.

You lunge forward, grab his arm just before he disappears into the crowd. He stiffens immediately, twisting back like he’s ready to yank away—until he actually looks at you.

“Don’t walk in front of me like I’m not here,” you say, voice low but sharp. “I’m stuck doing this, so are you. You don’t have to like me, but you’re not gonna treat me like I’m nothing.”

His expression flickers—just for a second. He’s clearly surprised. You can tell. People don’t usually grab Matt. Or talk to him like that.

He blinks, lips parting slightly like he’s searching for a comeback. But you don’t give him time.

“Now let’s go,” you add, letting go of his sleeve. “We’re already late.”

You walk ahead a few steps, fully expecting him to ignore you again.

But he doesn’t.

After a pause, Matt adjusts the strap of his backpack and matches your pace—not beside you exactly, but not ahead either. Side-eyeing you every few seconds like he’s trying to figure out what your deal is.

Neither of you speaks on the walk to Room 108.

But when you reach the classroom and step inside, you hear him mutter—

“Didn’t think you’d actually have a spine.”

You slide into the seat next to his with a forced smile.

“Yeah? Didn’t think you’d be so damn dramatic.”

He snorts—quiet, but it’s there. The first crack in his wall.

The teacher starts class, but you can feel Matt still glancing at you every so often. Like you just became a glitch in the system he thought he had figured out.

A/N- I like the way i’m going with this.

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend @ariana3lovesu @sturnl0ve @cass-sturn @sturns-mermaid @sunrisemill @fadedstvrn @ikyoudreamofme @mattsdemi @kitkatbar1275 @skelet0nsinmyycloset @lezleeferguson-120 @bells-sturn @sturniolosymphony @kenziesturniolo54 @kikirasweatsweathoho @emely9274 @cherryystemm @realuvrrr @zenithsturniolo @kier-with-a-k @eeyoresturnz @elizasturn @ribread03 @sturnslux3 @costalgirlyr @pizzapocketpocketpizza @arianna1342 @mattsplaything @ed1tssturnn @ivysturnss @ilovemenwithlonghairr @whore4-chrissturniolo

[lizardlicks]

my middlest is text book ADHD. They get mad and frustrated about why they can't "just do" a thing the way their peers do. It helps them so much to be able to say, "your brain is wired different, so you need to do it differently" then come up with ways to work around whatever is blocking them.

It empowers them when they would otherwise give up. It helps them feel capable and not broken. It also helps remove shame and stigma from their peer group as well: they all benefit from being able to talk openly and honestly about struggle then come up with solutions together.

"Normal" is subjective, and isn't the same as happy and well adjusted. I want a kid that's the latter.

Not telling your kid they have a learning disability, chronic illness, mental illness etc. so they can “feel normal” actually does the opposite. They will not feel normal if they do not have the context to understand that their normal will be different from that of their peers.

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

MDNI! 18+ Content ahead

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, oral (f recieving), soft sex, love making (?), protected sex, badly written smut, love confessions, sappy,crying after sex (bothJack and reader)

Summary: They go on their planned date.

Again: MDNI! 18+ Content ahead

A/N: Hey everyone! So first of all I have to point out that this is my first time writing smut so please be forgiving, another thing is this it not proof read because I think I might delete this if I proof read this. This was planned to be the last chapter of ‚First meetings‘ but I have decided that after this I will be writing an epilouge (time skip) to take a quiet peek in what happened to Jack and reader afterwards. I hope you enjoy even though this is probably not my best work.

The news had spread like wildfire, well except towards the admin staff. It was like everyone was talking about it and yet no one dared to mention it towards either of them. People gave her knowing glances when she walked through the halls, no one seemed to judge them, though there seemed to be questions, questions that neither her nor Jack would answer or even knew the real question to. Still it was obvious that there were some people that seemed to be confused about the whole dynamic. Since the beginning of the week, since the confession he was harder on her than he had been before. Not rude, not brutally so, but he pushed her harder, made her work on perfection. She wasn’t mad at him, he didn’t do it to give her a hard time, no he did it because he cared, he did it so that no one could accuse him of playing favorites. Something she really understood, something she knew he needed to prove to people.

The week had dragged on like gum stuck to the soles of your shoes. Not because of the work she had to put in, no that had made her realise of what she was even capable of, made her understand that sometimes doubt was her worst enemy and that when he pushed her he overcame that doubt for her in some strange way. He had already done that before, though now it felt like he had stopped holding back. Maybe she had also just gained confidence she needed from the fact that she knew someone had her back. No, the week had dragged on because of the date she was meant to go on. It felt like it was never going to be Saturday night, though on Saturday morning seven thirty felt like it was ages away.

Sitting in front of the mirror she had tried to calm her nerves, already ready she checked the clock again, it had been seven fifteen. Trying to keep her nerves at bay she fiddled with the hem of the dress she was wearing.It was mid length, showing off everything she wanted to show off, though the most important thing about this dress was that it made her feel pretty, made her feel gorgeous even, confident. Masie and Tommy had been angels the entire day, helping her out with picking the dress, as well as the jewelry and other accessories. Masie was a lot more excited about the whole endeavour than Tommy.

It had felt kind of weird to give Jack the address of the apartment she shared with Masie and Tommy, telling him that she was able to get to the restaurant on her own, but he had insisted on picking her up. Jack had shown up at seven twenty five, holding a bouquet of white lilies. It was beautiful and she had put in a vase on her nightstand, offering him to come in, though he had politely declined.

The place he had taken her to was nice, a mexican place, the owner an old friend of his. The food had been some of the best she had ever eaten and the company had been almost as good. They had spoken softly with each other, their voices always slightly hushed, their hands brushing together. It was like someone had cast a spell on them, like they were in their own little world while they ate. Time flew by and it got late when they walked out of the restaurant, their fingers intertwined, the blazer jacket Jack had been wearing draped over her shoulders after she had shivered slightly when the cool air had hit her skin. His smell swirling around her like some kind of promise.

As they stood in front of his truck Jack gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek, the skin of the pad of his thumb rough against her flesh. Leaning into his touch she let out a soft sigh of content, the cool air whirling around them. Jack gently coaxed her towards him, so that she would look at him. His second hand also went to her face, gently squeezing her cheeks as she smiled at him.

“You look so beautiful tonight,” he whispered softly as he leaned in closely, their lips brushing once again. He pressed his lips against hers, slowly moving them, she joined in his rhythm, his tongue slipping between her lips. Her hands had found their way into his shirt, clutching the dark fabric at his sides, trying to pull him closer. As they broke apart it felt like she was fighting for every breath, wanting to kiss him again was an overwhelming urge in her mind. The feeling of him pressed against her, even with their foreheads simply resting against each other, their breath mingling together as they kissed again, this time quicker, but a few kisses in succession. The stubble on his face tickled her slightly.

“You know…” she paused softly, trying to speak as quietly as possible, “That suit looks really good on you, but I think it would look a lot better on your bedroom floor,” as she finished speaking, she pressed a soft kiss to his throat. He tutted softly as he pulled her back slightly, a soft glimmer in those beautiful hazel eyes.

“You are going into dangerous territory there, sweetheart,” his voice was slightly gravelly as he looked down at her, his pupils blown wide. A slight tingle settled in her lower stomach as she smiled coyly at him, batting her lashes as innocently as possible.

“Am I?” she tried to sound as innocent as possible while blinking slowly at him, eyes wide. A small smile on her lips as she saw his jaw clench.

“Yeah, how about we go back to my place?” he suggested, trying to keep his composure. Like it wasn’t what both of them had been planning for. Nodding softly she grabbed his hand, gently squeezing it. Jack opened the door to the passenger seat with his other hand, letting her get in the car before he closed the door and rounded the truck before plopping into the driver’s seat. The ride back to his place was filled with playful banter and soft laughter.

The moment Jack had parked the car and they were in the elevator to his place their lips met again, moving in a familiar rhythm, his hands holding her waist tightly as he pulled her close. Jack’s lips found her neck, coaxing her head into her neck he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses to the column of her throat. A soft gasp escaped her lips as he sank his teeth into the soft skin where her throat met her shoulder. Pressing into him she closed her eyes, sighing as he carefully pressed a gentle kiss to the spot.

A soft bing and the elevator halted. Jack moved, though her mind stalled for a moment, he had taken her hand in his, urging her to move. Opening her eyes she followed him out of the elevator, the heat in her stomach and the tingling between her legs almost consuming everything as she followed him through the hallway.

It was like the hallway grew longer with every step she took, his hand in hers like a burning reminder of his presence. His smell clouded her mind as he stopped in front of his door, the sound of the key turning, the lock clicking, it was all just on the edge of reality. A quiet squeaking from the hinges of the door was the only indicator of Jack pushing open the door. Quickly they moved inside, Jack dragging her along, carefully closing the door behind them he was on her again.

He backed her against it, his hot ips on her jack, carefully biting, kissing, moving up towards her mouth. Their lips met again, moving together, her hands travelled up his torso, gently stroking his belly as she let out small whimpers. One warm hand had wrapped itself around her waist, gently keeping her put, pressed up against the door, the other had found its way into her hair, gently tugging on it while they kissed. Moving her hips slightly she tried to grind down on him, her arousal growing with every passing second.

“Jack,” she whispered softly as they drew apart, the hand that had been on her waist now hovering above her breast, the tips of his fingers ghosting over the still covered flesh, not quite touching yet.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” his voice was slightly strained, she tried to move her head forward, but the grip on her hair was too tight for that, though it did not hurt. Moving her hips against his she felt the bulge in his pants, grinding down on him as best as she could.

“Ah, ah, sweetheart,” he whispered softly, gently pressing another kiss to the column of her throat, “What do you want?”

“Please!” she whimpered softly, trying to get more friction from him. Arching her back against his hand she hummed softly as she looked at him.

“You have to tell me what you want, darling,” Jack hummed softly as his hand slowly travelled from her hair towards her jaw, cupping it, pressing a thumb against her jaw.

“Please, Jack, please touch me,” she whispered softly, the slickness between her legs warm and aching. Her hands slowly went upwards gently brushing over the fabric of the shirt he was wearing.

Suddenly Jack grabbed her, a squeak escaped her as her feet left the ground, throwing her over his shoulder she had to laugh involuntarily letting herself be carried to where she knew the bedroom was.

As the door fell shut behind Jack and the light clicked on she was gently placed on the bed, laying on the edge with her feet dangling off the mattress. Toeing off her shoes she watched as Jack tossed the blazer she had previously worn onto the chair in the corner of the room. A small smile on his lips as he looked at her, those hazel eyes burning with something she could only describe as hunger locked on to her.

Slowly she sat up from the bed, opening the zipper on the side, then letting the dress pool around her waist, blinking slowly at Jack as he seemed to have frozen in his movements as the black lace bra she had opted for became visible.

“Damn,” he whispered softly, stepping towards her his hand hovering above her breast, fingers twitching like he was fighting with himself not to touch her.

“Please,” she whined softly, puffing out her chest slightly, the soft flesh brushing against his fingers. Carefully he cupped her breast, giving it a gentle squeeze as his other hand went into her hair again, pulling her upwards slightly. Hot lips pressing against hers again, moving in a slow and deliberate rhythm as he slowly brushed his fingers against her breast. Trying not to break the connection she shimmied out of the dress, letting it fall to the ground beside the bed. A soft whine came from her Jack’s lips left her, the whine turning into soft moans as he began to suckle and bite into the soft flesh of her neck. Gently nibbling on some spots. Reaching out her fingers brushed against his bulge, carefully palming him through the dress pants. Low groans and moans came from Jack, his hips bucking into her hand as he continued his assault on her neck. She was sure that there would be marks of his little adventure in the morning.

A gasp left her lips as she felt a finger brushing against her slit. Jack hummed against her neck as he repeated the motion, slowly stroking his fingers from her entrance to her clit.

“So wet for me,” he whispered in her ear as she bucked against his fingers, trying to get more from him.

Slowly the hand which had been on her breast moved to her back, unclasping the bra with ease. Carefully he pulled off the bra, discarding it on the ground, pushing her back on the bed, latching onto her nipple, swirling his tongue around it. Soft gasps and moans came from her as she arched into him, his legs settled beside her hips, keeping her in place.

She clawed at the shirt he was still wearing, the pulsing between her legs getting worse as she whined and writhed. Slowly Jack moved away from her breast, his hands ghosting down her sides as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses on her ribcage and stomach. Gently nibbling at the skin from time to time until he reached the panties that had matched the bra. Slowly he pulled it off her hips, discarding it somewhere.

“Come on pretty girl,” he gently coaxed her, her thighs falling open. In one smooth motion he knelt at the edge of the bed. His head between her thighs as a cool gust of wind hit her she let out an involuntary whimper, the bastard had blown air at her core. Writhing slightly she tried to reach for his head.

“Shsh,” he gently brushed away her hand. He started at her knee, pressing gentle kisses to it, then travelled up her thigh, stopping at the junction between her hip and leg, the moment she thought she might finally get the sweet relief of his lips on her he drew back again. A whine escaped her as she looked at him.

“Please, Jack,” she whined softly, trying to get him to speed things up a bit. A chuckle and a shake of the head later he repeated the process on the other leg, then finally his mouth met her core. His lips pressed soft kisses along her slit before he licked a long, slow stripe from her hole to her clit. It was like something inside of him snapped after that. He ate her out like a man starved, like he had not eaten in years and she was the first thing he saw.

“So wet for me,” he hummed softly against her, the vibration sending shivers down her spine. With every lick, every movement the tightness in her stomach got worse, the tingling spreading to her legs, which were beginning to shake slightly. As he slipped in one finger a mewl left her lips grinding down on his mouth and hand she tried to get him to move more. Soft pants leaving her lips as he moved his finger inside of her, finding the spongy spot that made her see stars every time he hit it. Soon a second finger was added and the coil in her stomach became too much to bear.

“Come on, sweetheart, I know you can do it,” he encouraged softly. That made her snap, she felt herself fluttering around him, her visions going blank for a moment before she came back to reality, breathing heavily she looked at Jack. His mouth glistened softly, licking his lips and fingers like he was savouring every single drop she had given him.

“You taste so damn good,” he groaned softly as he looked at her, still dressed in the shirt and suit pants he had been wearing during dinner, hair dishevelled, more so than usually. A soft groan left her lips, the shaking in her legs not quite gone yet.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” she muttered into the blanket as she turned her head to the side, feeling her face get hot from the sight of Jack kneeling between her legs. A soft chuckle came from him as she heard movement as she looked at him, his eyes glistening softly in the light of the room.

“You doing okay?” his voice low. She knew that there was more to the question than just asking if she was okay, he was asking if she was okay to keep going.

“I am doing fucking fantastic,” she grinned at him, she paused for a moment, “Though I think I would be doing a lot better if would get rid of that suit,” she hummed.

“With pleasure,” Jack hummed softly. It was slow, but he rid himself of the shirt, revealing the toned pecs and soft belly, something she loved so much about him, the well trained shoulders moved as he opened the belt of the pants, then sat down on the edge of the bed, cursing quietly as he took off the leg, then shimmied out of the rest of the pants. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a silent command with his stare. Scooting up the bed she placed herself against the headboard, the pulsing and need getting more again, like they hadn’t ebbed away a bit a few moments ago.

Slowly Jack crawled up the bed, the black boxers doing little to conceal his straining cock as he hovered over her. Carefully lowering his head, their lips met again, moving together, she could taste herself on his lips, drawing a soft moan from her. She could feel him moving then a kick, slowly reaching towards his cock she felt the soft skin of him, gently running her fingers from the tip to the base. A low moan came from Jack as he thrust into her touch. Drawing away Jack looked at her, moving away he sat on his knees moving slightly to grab a condom from the nightstand, quickly opening it and putting it on before he came back down to her their lips meeting again, hot and slow, their mouths moved. As he drew away again his held her gaze, slowly moving to push into her, the stretch was delicious a quiet moan escaped her.

As he started moving slowly it was strange for a moment. This was different from the first night they had spent together, not bad, but there was no urgency, there was something else behind his slow thrusts, her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to her. It was like they were both trying to melt together, like they were trying to become one single entity. His movement never faltered, he kept the same pace, one hand finding her clit, gently drawing circles, she wasn’t sure how long they kept going, both her and Jack whispering soft encouragement, soft praise, then Jack’s movements began to stutter.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he muttered softly, she moaned softly as she nodded, the tightness in her lower stomach close to snapping.

“Yeah, me too,” she whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his lips as she felt him press himself farther into her than before, hips twitching as he came, his hands did not still and soon she followed him over the edge. It was intense, everything around her became blurry, the smell of their bodies suddenly became more intense than it had been before, the feeling of their skin pressed together the only thing she could feel. She was not sure how much time had passed, but she could feel hot tears running down her cheeks, Jack had buried his head in the crook of her neck, his body resting on hers, his arms pressed up against her ribcage. Her arms still wrapped around his neck, gently she threaded her hands through his hair, the tears still running down her cheeks.

“I think I love you,” she whispered, her voice rough, a soft sniffle from her, she felt hot liquid hitting her neck, a gentle kiss to where her pulse point was, though she received no words, she did not need them, knowing that this was his way of telling her that he did too.

—————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06 @rosieposie88 @moonshooter @wowitsafemale @qardasngan @starlightmoon2020 @loonyloomis

[wlwnovak]

You tried and that's what counts ♡

Just a short domestic oneshot about reader being a very bad cook.

Casey Novak x fem Reader (Detective!You)

Genre: Fluff

You had gotten off early—a minor miracle in your line of work—and instead of crashing on the couch or scrolling through texts from your captain, you stood in the kitchen, staring down a box of dry pasta and a bottle of ketchup like they were part of an interrogation.

You were going to cook.

Casey had been exhausted lately. You both had. Between her never-ending trial prep and your erratic SVU shifts, the two of you had been living off takeout and vending machine dinners. Last night, she’d tugged at the waistband of her pencil skirt and muttered, “All this takeout is catching up to me.”

So you decided to surprise her. A hot, home-cooked meal, lovingly prepared by the woman who had absolutely no idea how to cook.

To be fair, you never needed to. You’d grown up with your sister, who practically owned the kitchen, and when you moved in with Casey, she took over the cooking. It was routine for her—she’d grown up with her father, and she used to cook for him all the time. You, meanwhile, could just about microwave leftovers without burning the building down.

Tonight, though? You were gonna be romantic. Capable. Domestic.

Cut to: the fire alarm blaring, the sauce burning, and you scraping blackened bits of something off the bottom of a nonstick pan like it had personally wronged you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\\\\\~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Casey walked in just as you were plating... whatever it was.

She paused in the doorway, shoes in hand, eyebrows already lifting in suspicion. “Oh god. What happened?”

“I made you a homemade dinner,” you said proudly, gesturing to the table where a candle flickered bravely next to a dish of... effort.

She tilted her head. “You cooked?”

You nodded. “I got off early. And you’ve been so busy lately, you didn’t have time to cook, and well... I figured I should try.”

Her face softened, lips quirking. “You’re sweet. Thanks, baby.”

“Yeah, well. I figured I’d save you from takeout bankruptcy.”

She sat with theatrical caution and picked up her fork. You watched as she took a bite—chewed slowly, blinked once, twice—then forced a smile.

“What’s in this sauce?”

“We didn’t have tomatoes, so I used ketchup, oregano, a red powder I can’t remember the name of, and... well, hope.”

Casey set down her fork. “Oh, sweetheart.”

You laughed. “I tried, I swear! It can’t be that bad, can it?” You took a small bite of your own creation—only to immediately spit it out.

Casey gave you that look—the one that said she was exasperated but completely, irrevocably in love with you. She stood, came around the table, and wrapped her arms around you.

“Well,” she said softly, “next time, we’ll do it together. Starting with a pasta sauce that isn’t a hate crime.”

You buried your face in her shoulder, laughing. “You’re gonna make me learn, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. And until then...” She slipped your phone out of your back pocket and handed it to you. “You’re paying for delivery.”

[sebstanaddict]

Prince Barnes of Broodovia

Bucky Barnes x Avengers & Avengerz One Shot

A/N: Bucky's new look at the end of Thunderbolts inspired me to write this hilarious story about the power of his new look on the Avengers and Avengerz ;) More hilariously, his new look can stop a war! XD How? Find out below ;)

Warning : none, just silly and hilarious story. Major Thunderbolts spoiler though. So watch that first.

Word count : 3.9k

Read more Bucky Barnes and Sebastian Stan one shots here.

Check out my master list here for more Bucky and Sebastian stories.

---

Okay. Let's rewind a bit.

Fourteen months ago a band of misfits, disposable delinquents and anti heroes who were calling themselves the Thunderbolts - well, at least one of them did - saved New York City from disappearing into a dark Void forever with the power of friendship and a group hug.

And then, like all heroic teams basking in post-crisis confusion, they were immediately manipulated.

Valentina Allegra de Fontaine - CIA director, chessmaster, chaos goblin in expensive heels - swooped in. She rebranded them as The New Avengers before anyone could blink. Did they agree to it? No. Did she file the paperwork anyway and slap their faces on cereal boxes? Yes. Yelena found out via Instagram.

But... the weird thing?

It started to work.

Despite their bickering, their petty roasts, and Ghost's weekly threat to "phase through someone's kneecaps," they became capable. They grew into heroes. Not clean-cut ones. Not the public-darling variety. But they were effective. And the world noticed.

Fourteen months later, they had a new HQ, a begrudging respect for each other, and more or less stable friendships (Walker and Red Guardian still weren't allowed to do grocery runs together).

And then came the lawsuit.

Sam Wilson - Captain America himself and leader of the official Avengers - filed a copyright claim for the name Avengers. The nerve. The betrayal. The sheer pettiness.

So, the team did what they do best.

They rebranded again.

They were now... The Avengerz.

With a Z. Because apparently, that's "cool" now, Red Guardian insisted.

Today, they were scheduled for a simple mission briefing. Just a routine plan before meeting with Sam's Avengers for a joint op. Everyone was already on edge about having to deal with "the real heroes" again.

But then -

Bucky Barnes walked in.

And time. Just. Stopped.

He didn't so much walk into the room as he did materialize, bathed in invisible moonlight and the kind of wind you only get in hair commercials. His long, dark hair was freshly trimmed and gloriously wavy, brushing just past his jaw, and styled like it had been touched by some celestial hairstylist who only serviced Disney princes.

But it didn't stop there.

The man had grown a beard. Not a wild, mountain-man beard. No, this was an Aragorn-in-the-woods-but-somehow-clean beard - just scruffy enough to say I've seen battle, but neat enough to whisper women want to fix me.

And if that wasn't enough, he was wearing an all-black, tailored armored tactical suit - new and gleaming - with a bold red star emblazoned on his right arm, like a statement piece that said yes, I'm haunted, but fashionably so.

The team just... stared.

Yelena, who was mid-sip of coffee, very calmly lowered her mug and said, "So... I guess we're all in love with Bucky now?"

Bob blinked. "I thought I was having a stroke. Turns out it's just his hair."

Walker made a strangled noise and pointed. "What is this? Who let you walk around looking like this? There are rules, man!"

Bucky blinked. "It's just a new suit."

"You look like you came out of a romance novel," Yelena said, circling him slowly. "But one where you're secretly royalty and were cursed for a hundred years until you finally woke up, with perfect hair, a new beard, and an emotionally devastating past."

Red Guardian squinted at him. "Are we not going to talk about how he looks like he sings duets with forest animals?"

Ghost, arms crossed, tilted her head. "You're giving major Aragorn if he moisturized energy."

"You know what it is?" Walker said, nodding. "It's Disney Prince meets Leather Daddy meets brooding fantasy king who lost his homeland and now refuses to love again."

"Honestly," Bob added, "you look like if Aragorn and a bottle of hair serum had a baby. A really conflicted baby with great posture."

Yelena leaned in closer, studying the beard. "You realize this is the beard of a man who absolutely gets serenaded by woodland creatures."

"Or leads a rebellion while smoldering dramatically from a cliff," Ghost added.

Bucky frowned and ran a hand through his hair. Big mistake. His hair flipped in perfect slow motion like it had been choreographed. Everyone groaned.

"Oh my God," Walker muttered. "That flip just made me question my life."

"Prince Barnes," Yelena announced, bowing dramatically. "Of Broodovia. The First of His Name. Wielder of Conditioner. Slayer of Eyeliner."

"Seriously, what shampoo do you use?" Bob asked. "Is it like... enchanted?"

"Do you brush it with a comb made of unicorn bone?" Walker said, eyes wide. "Is there a hidden mirror you whisper your insecurities to?"

Bucky, now visibly regretting every decision that brought him here, muttered, "It's just a beard and a haircut."

"Just?" Red Guardian scoffed. "You look like you're about to declare war on a rival kingdom because they insulted your honor."

"You don't walk, Barnes," Ghost said. "You stride. Like you're about to rip off a cloak and reveal a legendary sword with a tragic name."

"Yeah," Bob nodded. "Like... Heartbreaker. Or Whisperfang."

Yelena grinned. "Or Silken Doom."

Walker was dying. "I can't breathe. This is who you are now. You wear leather and save people while whispering 'I'm no hero.'"

Bucky folded his arms, star glinting in the light. "You're all idiots."

Walker raised a finger. "Can I just say, this is like... if Batman got therapy and decided to start modeling."

Bucky sighed. "I knew I shouldn't have worn the new suit today."

"Too late, your majesty," Bob said, doing a mock bow. "We serve at the pleasure of the Crown."

"Long may he smolder," Ghost added.

"Fine," Bucky said, giving up and heading toward the door. "Next mission, I'm leaving you all behind in the enchanted forest."

"Oh no," Yelena called after him. "Don't abandon us, Prince Barnes! What if the wolves come and we need you to dramatically swing in on a vine and save us while your hair glows in the moonlight?"

Bucky stopped just long enough to say over his shoulder, "You're all terrible people. Now come on. The Old Avengers are waiting."

–--

One hour later

The Avengerz - strode into the Avengers Compound briefing room like they didn't just argue in the jet over who left an empty protein bar wrapper in the cockpit. Bucky walked in last, which was strategic. It gave his hair time to catch the wind.

He was in full glory: the beard, the waves, the red star gleaming on his black armored tactical suit, every step a slow-motion trailer for a fantasy series no one could afford to make.

The room was already half full. Sam Wilson stood at the front with his arms crossed, looking perfectly heroic in his Captain America suit. Around him: Thor in street clothes that still somehow screamed Asgardian prince, Ant-Man eating a bagel, Falcon sipping bubble tea, War Machine mid-checking his phone, and Smart Hulk adjusting his glasses.

Then they all looked up.

And everything stopped.

Scott Lang actually dropped his bagel.

"Whoa," he said, staring. "When did Bucky turn into a walking shampoo commercial?"

"Is that... hair?" Thor asked, stepping closer with reverence. "Like, intentional hair?"

"Goddamn," War Machine muttered. "He's got the beard too. We're in trouble."

Bucky gave them a tight nod. "We're here for the briefing, not - "

"No," Sam said, cutting him off, a hand raised. "No, no, no. You don't get to walk in here looking like a cursed prince who just broke the spell and act like everything's normal."

Falcon stared in pure admiration. "You look like you just stepped out of a dramatic flashback."

Hulk tilted his head. "His facial structure is mathematically unkind to morale."

Scott blinked. "Why is his suit tighter than usual? Is this... are we in a fanfic?"

Yelena, beaming, casually leaned against the wall. "Welcome to our nightmare. He moisturizes now. It's a problem."

"I knew it!" Sam shouted. "He used to look like a grumpy knife. Now he's the cover of a fantasy romance novel called Steel and Regret."

Ghost chimed in, "Or Midnight Soldier: A Love That Won't Be Forgiven."

"Leathered Vengeance," Bob added helpfully. "Coming soon to streaming."

Red Guardian took a deep breath, gesturing dramatically. "It's like Aragorn and L'Oréal had a very brooding baby."

Bucky groaned. "It's just a haircut."

Sam pointed at him. "That's not a haircut. That's a plot device. That beard? It's character development. That suit? Villain-turned-antihero-who-leads-a-rescue-mission-in-the-rain kind of suit."

"I agree," Thor nodded solemnly. "That's the armor of a man who carries the weight of destiny... and a three-step skin care routine."

Falcon clutched his drink. "I swear to God, if he flips his hair I'm quitting the team."

Bucky immediately shoved his hair behind his ear. Three people audibly gasped.

"That's it!" Scott yelped. "That was the move! The wistful tuck! He's doing it on purpose!"

"He always does," Yelena said. "We live like this."

Sam shook his head and turned to the Avengerz. "How do you even function with him like this?"

Walker snorted. "We don't."

Thor was still circling Bucky like he was inspecting a fine stallion. "This one," he said, voice full of admiration, "is ready for war and heartbreak."

Bucky looked at Sam, expression flat. "You called this meeting."

"Yeah," Sam said. "But I wasn't ready to get visually assaulted."

Scott raised a hand. "Okay but serious question: Do you do the conditioner rinse, or leave-in?"

Everyone went silent. Even Sam leaned forward.

Bucky sighed. "Leave-in. Coconut-based."

Falcon actually wrote it down.

Sam took a long breath. "Alright. Back to business. But just so we're clear - if anyone on my team suddenly grows a beard, starts brooding, or wears all black, I'm blaming you."

Yelena whispered, "He loves this."

Bucky muttered, "Shut up."

---

It took a while but finally The Avengers and The Avengerz managed to get the meeting started, despite Bucky being a major distraction.

"Alright, listen up, chaos gremlins," Sam Wilson said, standing at the front of the room with a pointer, a tablet, and a level of regret usually reserved for high school teachers on substitute duty.

Behind him, a map of Karoznya flickered on the big screen. A long, narrow Eastern European kingdom with an unfortunate number of goats, suspicious fog, and exactly one functioning Starbucks.

"We've been called in to stop a civil war," Sam explained. "Apparently, the Karoznyan royal family vanished a century ago in a snowstorm, the people split into royalist and republican factions, and now they're all mad and heavily armed."

"Like America," said Scott Lang. "But with better pastry."

Bucky leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, not saying a word, looking like he was seconds away from playing guitar in a medieval tavern - and his beard had entered "legendary Tumblr daddy" status.

Yelena raised a brow. "So, what, we fly in, hold hands, sing national anthem, make peace?"

"No," Sam said. "We split into teams. Disable the rebel artillery, secure the castle, and keep Red Guardian from adopting any more animals."

"I make no promises," Red Guardian said, stroking a stuffed bear he'd brought to the meeting.

Bob (a.k.a. Robert Reynolds, a.k.a. the Sentry, a.k.a. Guy Who Looks Like a Viking But Has the Anxiety of a Chinchilla) slowly raised his hand. "What if... we accidentally destroy the castle?"

Everyone stared.

"...I'm asking for a friend."

John Walker slapped the table. "Let's just go in hot and make America proud."

"Jesus, no," Sam muttered.

"Did someone say civil war? I love those. Great parties." Thor entered, holding a smoothie, no one knew when he left.

"Please define 'party,'" Smart Hulk added dryly, flipping through a stack of mission documents. "Because last time you said that, we ended up in a lava pit."

"It was warm," Thor replied defensively.

Joaquin Torres raised a hand from the back. "So quick question - what's the actual strategy for not getting immediately shot at by people who think we're invading their kingdom? Also, do we get ponchos?"

"Why would you need ponchos?" Sam asked.

"For dramatic effect," Joaquin replied, dead serious. "I feel like this mission needs some medieval flair."

Sam just stared. "God help me."

---

Karoznya – Edge of the Capital City

A sleek Quinjet roared above the foggy hills, cutting through Karoznya's cloudy skies like a drama queen's eyeliner. Inside, the Avengerz and Avengers were prepping like only they could.

Ghost was vanishing in and out of her seat like a strobe light. Red Guardian was trying to fit into a child-sized set of "Royal Guard" armor. Yelena was repainting her nails. Thor was braiding Bob's hair ("It helps him relax before battles, leave him be"). Scott was eating a sandwich with pickles inside a protein bar.

Smart Hulk sat near the cockpit, flipping through a dossier with one giant finger and adjusting his reading glasses. "Based on sociopolitical analysis and goat density mapping, this is going to be ridiculous," he muttered

Joaquin Torres was polishing his wing rig in the corner, half listening and half scrolling through Karoznyan airspace charts on his phone. "Are goats usually this aggressive in civil wars?"

"Only the elite ones," War Machine replied, tightening a gauntlet and eyeing the terrain through the window. "If one of them starts climbing me again, I'm charging that thing rent."

And Bucky?

Bucky sat silent, legs wide, gloves tightening, beard brooding, hair bouncing, with the undeniable aura of "I read poetry and probably kill people who litter."

The hatch opened. Sam gave one last warning. "No collateral damage. No flaming goats. No accidental weddings. And no impersonating foreign royalty."

"You act like we've done that before," Scott said.

"You have."

---

Karoznya – Royal Capital Battlefield

The Avengers and Avengerz touched down in the city square with a BOOM. Sam swooped through a crowd of rebels like a majestic bird of liberty, knocking rifles out of hands with his wings.

"Put the weapons down!" he shouted. "We're here to help!"

"Why does he yell like that?" Yelena muttered, throwing a smoke bomb directly into someone's pants. "You know what I do? Whisper intimidation."

Red Guardian charged straight into the fray, dramatically body-slamming a cart of turnips. "I HAVE COME TO RESTORE PEACE - AND STABILITY TO THIS REGION!"

"Are you holding a child?!" Sam yelled.

"Yes, her name is Katya and she is now my daughter."

Thor struck the ground with Mjolnir, sending shockwaves through the rebel line. "TO PEACE!" he bellowed, and then promptly electrocuted a gazebo.

Scott grew to thirty feet and accidentally knocked over a statue.

Bob exploded midair in a golden burst of anxiety-powered flight and immediately got stuck in a clocktower.

Smart Hulk calmly uprooted a howitzer, flung it into a lake, and sighed. "We need better conflict resolution protocols."

War Machine flew overhead and unleashed a series of perfectly placed sonic blasts, not enough to injure, but absolutely enough to blow off several enemy hats. "This is your ceasefire warning - and your last chance to upgrade your fashion sense!"

Joaquin zoomed in from above, tossing mini flashbangs like confetti. "Falcon Two inbound - someone tell Bucky to stop glowing like a Shakespeare prophecy!"

And John Walker just started punching.

Chaos.

Total chaos.

Then - just as one Karoznyan general ordered his troops to charge, and two political leaders were about to throw literal soup at each other - a shadow appeared at the castle gates.

Boots crunched over marble. The sound echoed through the battlefield like a slow-motion cologne commercial.

A man stepped into view.

Black tactical suit. Blood-red star. Vibranium arm glinting in the sun. Hair cascading over his shoulder like a shampoo ad during the Super Bowl. Beard glistening. Jawline sharp enough to violate the Geneva Convention.

A collective gasp rippled across the square.

A Karoznyan soldier dropped his weapon. "It's... it's HIM..."

Another knelt. "The Prince... the Winter Prince has returned!"

The royalist leader sobbed. "The prophecy!"

A street vendor threw roses. A goat fainted. A woman clutched her heart and yelled, "MY OVARIES!"

Bucky blinked. "What the hell is going on?"

A priest appeared out of nowhere, chanting. "He has returned! The rightful heir to the House of Broodovia! He of the tragic eyes!"

Sam landed beside Bucky, panting. "I leave you alone for two minutes and now you're king?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Bucky hissed.

"He has the cheekbones!" someone screamed.

"I knew it!" Yelena yelled and cackled gleefully.

Joaquin landed behind them. "Okay, but can I be the guy who writes his dramatic speeches?"

"I'll start printing flags," War Machine muttered.

Smart Hulk just shook his head. "We are going to have to file a full diplomatic report for this."

---

Karoznya – Royal Palace, 3 Hours Later

Bucky Barnes had been a lot of things in his life.

Assassin. Avenger. Amputee. Eye candy.

But this? This was a new low.

He was currently seated on a throne made of ice. Real ice. Like someone decided Frozen was a how-to manual. He was wearing an embroidered robe so heavy it had its own gravity. On his head? A silver crown shaped like antlers. On his lap? A goat named Archibald who would not stop farting.

"I'm gonna kill you," he muttered at Sam, who was doubled over laughing behind a gilded curtain.

Sam wheezed. "This is better than that time Scott got stuck in a vending machine."

"I don't want to be king!" Bucky hissed. "I want to go home! I want to eat leftover Chinese food in my sweatpants and not be worshipped by a bunch of people who think cheekbones equal leadership!"

A herald with a mustache that curled like a pretzel stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the Council awaits your decree on what to do with the rebel faction."

"I don't have decrees," Bucky snapped. "I have trust issues and a metal arm."

An old woman with three monocles wiped a tear. "Just like your great-grandfather..."

Yelena leaned against the throne arm. "You know, this is kind of sexy. Tragic royal vibes. You should get a velvet cape."

"I am wearing a velvet cape."

"Oh. Then get a bigger one."

Red Guardian marched into the room with a goat trotting behind him. "Prince Bucky, I have brought tribute from the villages. Potatoes, cheese, and one musical sword."

The sword let out a weak "ding" when he dropped it.

"Thank you, Alexei. That's.. very... confusing."

Bob poked his head in through the window. "Do we get to do a coronation ceremony? I Googled how to do one. There's incense!"

"No incense!" Bucky barked.

"Too late!" Thor boomed, kicking the door open. He was shirtless now for reasons unknown and was holding a bowl of fire. "Let the royal flame of the ancestors BURN!"

Ghost, halfway through stealing a decorative scepter, sighed. "This is why I don't work with normal teams."

"You say that every time, and yet here we are," Smart Hulk muttered, checking his vitals. "Do you know how hard it is to catalog all this for mission logs?"

Joaquin peeked around a velvet curtain. "The townsfolk are chanting his name and waving loaves of bread. Can I go hand out autographs?"

War Machine sat in the corner, sipping tea from a tiny royal cup. "I swear, this feels like the end of a Disney movie directed by Quentin Tarantino."

John Walker wandered in wearing half a guard uniform and a cardboard crown. "They said I could be 'Duke of Punching.' I didn't say no."

Suddenly, trumpets blared.

A servant ran in, panting. "Prince Bucky! The rebels... want to negotiate peace. They say if you give a speech from the balcony, they'll lay down arms."

Bucky blinked. "A speech? Why me?"

"Because you're the Winter Prince!" cried someone from the rafters.

"That's not a title! That's just... weather and trauma!"

---

Ten Minutes Later – Royal Balcony

Bucky stepped out to roaring applause.

Down below, thousands of Karoznyans waved flags, cried, fainted, and screamed things like "WE LOVE YOU, PRINCE BUCKY!" and "FATHER ME WITH JUSTICE!"

He looked back at the team helplessly.

Sam gave a thumbs up. Yelena mimed shoving him off the balcony. Thor waved his flaming bowl.

Smart Hulk was filming. "This is going in the debriefing video. I want the UN to see this nonsense."

War Machine leaned on the balcony rail. "You ever seen a man defeat political instability just by existing? 'Cause now you have."

Bucky took a breath. Stepped forward. And said the only thing he could think of.

"Uh... hi."

A pause.

Then a woman screamed, "HE SPEAKS!"

The crowd lost their collective minds.

Bucky continued. "So. War is bad. Real bad. Like... 1980's haircut bad. And I think maybe we could all just... stop stabbing each other? Go home. Eat some bread. Pet your goats. I dunno."

Silence.

Then someone shouted, "IS THAT AN ORDER, MY PRINCE?"

"I mean - sure?"

The rebel leader fell to his knees. "We are blessed by the Ice Crown!"

Thunderous applause.

A choir started singing. Fireworks exploded. Someone lit a goat on fire by accident, and Red Guardian immediately adopted it.

---

Back Inside

Sam stared at Bucky. "You ended a civil war... with vibes."

"I want to go home," Bucky said, dead-eyed.

Yelena patted his shoulder. "Sorry, Prince Pouty. You now belong to the people of Karoznya. And also possibly that goat."

Archibald bleated.

Bob peeked in again. "Does this mean we all get tiny crowns?"

Scott appeared holding three trays of royal pastries. "I already ate mine."

Red Guardian raised his cup. "To our Prince! Long may he brood!"

Everyone: "LONG MAY HE BROOD!"

Bucky sank into the ice throne.

"...I hate all of you."

---

Two Weeks Later – Avengers Compound, Upstate New York, where the Avengers and Avengerz formed an unofficial subcommittee dedicated to reminding Bucky he once ended a war with hair flips and cheekbones.

" - And in other news, Karoznya has declared today a national holiday: Winter Soldier Day, commemorating the moment their long-lost royal heir returned to stop a civil war with a speech that historians are now calling 'accidentally poetic.'"

Bucky threw a pillow at the TV.

It bounced off harmlessly and hit Bob instead, who was mid-yoga and somehow doing downward dog and crying at the same time.

"I said stop watching that," Bucky muttered, face buried in the couch cushions.

Sam strolled into the common room, sipping coffee. "You know, I've been thinking about growing my hair out. Maybe get one of those 'tragic royal buns.' Think it'll make a crowd weep when I say 'hello'?"

Yelena popped up behind the couch. "I have started receiving letters. Marriage proposals. Me. Because I once stood next to the Winter Prince. One guy offered three cows and a hot tub."

"I got offered a dukedom," Ghost added from the corner, where she was disassembling the toaster for fun. "In exchange for a blurry photo of Bucky sneezing."

Bucky groaned.

Scott wandered in eating noodles. "I've been writing a script. It's a romantic political thriller. The Man with the Silver Arm: A Kingdom of Yearning. Netflix might pick it up."

Bucky groaned louder.

Thor entered dramatically, wearing a purple velvet robe and an antler crown made of coat hangers. "BEHOLD! The Prince of Forgotten Promises! Has he returned to us from the snowy hills of Karoznya? Or has he ABANDONED HIS PEOPLE FOR TAKEOUT AND BROODING?!"

"I NEVER SAID I'D GO BACK!" Bucky finally yelled, sitting upright like a vampire coming out of a coffin.

"Oh, you totally did," Sam said. "At the coronation banquet. You were three glasses of plum wine in and gave this weirdly emotional toast like, 'I shall return when Karoznya needs me most.'"

"It was one glass," Bucky snapped.

"It was a jug," Bob corrected from the floor.

"Okay, well, I didn't mean it! It was polite!" Bucky shouted. "You think I'm flying halfway around the world to wave at people and be fed ceremonial turnips once a year?!"

There was a pause.

Yelena pulled out her phone. "Karoznya just posted your official royal portrait. They're calling you His Broodiness Eternal."

Red Guardian stormed in wearing full Karoznyan armor and holding up a ceremonial goat bell. "I brought Archibald! He has missed you!"

Archibald bleated and immediately pooped on the rug.

"OH COME ON - "

---

One Year Later – Somewhere in Karoznya

A snowy hillside. A stone statue of a man in a cape, boots, and beard stood majestically on a cliff, overlooking the capital.

The plaque read:

"Prince Bartholomew James Bucky Barnes - The Winter Prince of The House of Broodovia - Who Promised to Return."

Someone had crossed it out and added in spray paint:

"Still Waiting, Bro."

---

Back at the Avengers Compound

"Happy Winter Soldier Day!" Sam shouted as he tossed Bucky a party hat.

Bucky flipped him off without looking up from his cereal.

Long may he brood.

[yanyannica]

kuroo tetsurou is infuriating to work with as a fellow class representative.

it's not that he's dilly-dallying with his duties, per say. it's far from that. this charming, athletic classmate of yours took you by surprise by how efficient and responsible he actually turned out to be; always there to help, whenever and wherever you may need him be.

a few boxes need to lugged to the faculty? he's flexing his biceps and hauling them up before you could say anything. having an athlete as a class rep has its benefits, you suppose.

"oh, i got this. you can sit back, pretty."

some plans for the upcoming festival need to be drafted? he's there by your side, playing ping ping via suggestions and ideas like it's second nature. conversation with him comes surprisingly easy.

"we work well together, don't you think?"

ever encountered a grand miscalculation regarding class funds? he somehow finds the error within minutes, telling you which part of the table you did wrong. you tell him he'd make a good slave for capitalism and he laughs it off.

"what can i say? charming men like me dominate the economy."

it's kind of scary how capable he is — almost like he's eager to help you out, but it's fortunate that all your seething over his election was for naught.

though you still aren't quite sure what to feel about it.

because he's... well...

"we should totally go out. like, right now."

if you hadn't realize it by the few dialogues the op had laid out before you, then yeah — he's way too damn coy!

"no," your handwriting falters, and you're grateful he doesn't notice it. if he did, he's awfully quiet about it. "i'm busy."

your first name then slips from his lips with that honeyed tone you always find excruciating, and you automatically flinch.

"don't act cute." you know what i mean, is what his lidded eyes say, and you narrow your own at him before averting your gaze completely — just like how you blatantly avoided the double meaning of his words.

you purposefully ignore the rising heat in the room. or maybe it was just you, since kuroo looked as calm and dashing as ev — yeah, no. it was definitely the lack of ventilation in this stupid room. who the hell does he think he's calling cute anyway? you're losing braincells each minute you spend with this guy, you swear.

"last time i checked, we weren't on a first-name basis, kuroo."

he yelps when you pinch a patch of skin along his upper arm, making him pout at you like a child.

"now, now, don’t get too worked up! i was just playing around a little."

"take it somewhere that's not around me then," you huff, giving him a sidelong look. "you're distracting me."

"you know well i take that as a compliment. your words, not mine." wow, does he have selective hearing now? this asshole!

you heave a deep sigh, completely done with it all.

kuroo is one annoying hell of a guy. you should've known better that he wouldn't back down that easily.

you two aren't going to get any work done at this rate. why were you talking back to him, again? you always knew he did it to get under your nerves. you should know better than to respond.

you blink.

unless...

warily, you glance at the boy beside you who's lazily doing his own work. the lack of his usual diligence is surprising. he was quite lively just a second ago.

well, shit.

was it because you told him to knock it off? were you too harsh?

you're not sure what's running through kuroo's mind, frankly enough. why he acts like the way he does, why he talks to you the way he does... but one thing you're sure of is that he doesn't do anything without a reason.

and if that reason is what you suspect it is...

heat rises up the back of your neck as you glare at your own share of work. this guy is seriously a dumbass.

and you're guilty as one too, it seems.

"if we finish up early, i'll let you drag me around the rest of the day," you tap the back your pen into his side, "just today."

your mind drums with a gazillion thoughts as you watch him considerably brighten up at your words.

"that's good enough!" and he starts working like a madman.

you're glad he's out of his bleary mood. but...

you blink in surprise as he snatches your own paperworks, sliding them underneath his own, throwing you a sleazy wink.

what did you just get yourself into?

bonus:

"hey — ! that's my work, you idiot!"

kuroo doesn't look up from his desk, "nuh-uh, can't let my girlfriend do such tedious work on my watch."

"who the hell are you calling your girlfriend?!" you ask, utterly horrified. kuroo turns to look at you dumbly.

"eh? but aren't we technically going out on a date later? cause y'know... i asked and you agreed...? that's enough merit for you to be called my girl, no?"

"kuroo tetsurou! i will plummet you if you don't take back your words at this instant!"

you lied. you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

[shot-glass-speedloader]

[A scowl grows on Jessie's face as everyone's frustration with the trial begins to vent like steam from a kettle. After taking a long sip from her tea, she speaks her mind, as well.]

Bless his lil' heart. If that boy thought people hated him before - and they did - he's in for a world a' trouble now with how riled up everyone is.

[Pinkerton pinches the bridge of her nose and groans.]

And on that note, 'scuse my frankness, but I'm gettin' mighty tired of all this bullshit. The station is damn near rioting, and it's just gettin' worse.

[Crossing her arms, she stares into her drink and pouts.]

I wanted to do the right thing, ya'know? Thought maybe I could help put things back together, seein' as I was part a' the problem when it all fell apart. Someone-

[She glances towards Sasha, allowing the corner of her mouth to curl back upward for just a split second.]

Helped me realize I was capable of tryin'. I was damn sure I'd die fer it, to tell ya the truth. And I was almost fine with that. A sacrifice fer a chance to redeem myself. One final good thing to outweigh the bad...

[She gets herself worked up. Her long, thin arms wrap around her knee in a vice as anger she didn't realize was there pours forth.]

But what did Ward n' me come back to? Did four of us die just so we could throw Signal to a mob? So that CORSAIR'd have a brand new excuse to light itself on fire?

[She sighs, slowly turning to Ward with a sullen expression.]

It ain't just me what feels like they're wipin' their asses with Mercy Squad's sacrifices, is it?

COFFEE AND TEA

"That barista was glaring at me," Lux muttered as she sat down beside Sasha in the little cafe they'd found to relax in during the court's recess.

"Yeah, they did it to me, too," Sasha replied, cradling her bone-white coffee mug. "He doesn't seem too fond of our kind."

"What, DoJ/HR?"

"No," Sasha shook her head. "Women."

A friendly silence settled between the two as they both took long sips from their respective drinks.

Lux sighed, making the steam rising from her cup curve around her breath. "Fucking misogyny."

"Thank Christ-the-Buddha it isn't prevalent."

"So... we're both thinking it," Sasha started, leaning forwards, elbows on the earth-brown linoleum of the table. "Zero has a point."

"He does," Lux replied, with another, deeper sigh. "Signal is guilty--we both know it--but even if they weren't, it wouldn't matter."

"So what do we do?"

"What can we do?" Lux asked back. "Either we pull out, meaning that Signal will definitely get a sham trial, or we stick around, and lend legitimacy to a trial that isn't legitimate at all."

"And if Zero was going to ask for a mistrial, he'd have done it already," Sasha agreed. "That's where most of my questions lie, actually. The fuck is he doing?"

"I have no idea," Lux grumbled. Her shoulders raised as her head sunk, making her look rather sulky. "The moment that riots broke out on the Tenacity, the judge was willing to give a mistrial. She doesn't feel any better about this than we do."

"Yeah. You can see it on her face." Sasha drummed her fingers against the side of her coffee mug. "I guess we'll just have to see how this pans out, then go from there."

[waitineedaname]

I think the funniest way to spin Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng's dynamic is if they work really well together, but they fucking hate it the whole time. these are two guys who know how to Get Down To Business when the situation calls for it, and when they have a common goal, they can work towards it efficiently. they just can't stand it the whole time

[iwoulddieforienzo]

Something really great about the persona 2 cast is that they all individually fucking SUCK to talk to casually. Every single one of them. They are all infuriating. We have:

Tatsuya, who will stare at you blankly if you try to initiate conversation (IS) and will dip without saying a word afterward (EP)

Batsuya, who will scoff and brush you off/otherwise act dismissive

Eikichi, who might honestly be the best to talk to in the IS crew and that is not saying much, who WILL talk extremely loudly over you (probably not on purpose?) and will not be paying particularly close attention to the conversation beyond whatever he wants to say (gets points for talking about his gf. gets points taken away for constantly talking about his gf)

Lisa, who will automatically assume bad faith and will be rude to you the entire conversation unless you manage to defuse her temper (good luck)

Jun, who is uncommunicative at BEST and requires an encyclopedic knowledge of flowers, metaphor and body language just to get a HINT on what he’s thinking, and who will be extremely polite but completely unhelpful. If you tried asking him what he wants for dinner I guarantee it will be the longest 30 minutes of your life as he goes “oh I have no opinion :) whatever you want. :))” EXCEPT HE DOES HAVE OPINIONS. He has SO MANY OPINIONS. He is Expecting you to be able to pick up on his “obvious” clues. He will be passive aggressive if you don’t. (Jun babygirl you suck so bad I love u)

Maya, who is a delight but will very quickly become grating if you try to talk to her about anything serious as she hits you with the white suburban mom's "how to live a happy, healthy life" lifecoach slogans. You can’t even mention, like, stepping in a puddle or something without her hitting you with the positivity beam.

Yukino is great actually. 10/10. She’s fabulous we love her. Incredible conversationalist, chill and fun and easy to get along with. But she’s from Persona One, she doesn’t Count.

Ulala, who WILL bring up her relationship problems in every conversation within 10 minutes at least once. Any longer and she will start talking about Maya.

Do I even need to explain Baofu. Have you seen him.

And finally, Katsuya, who is a cop and a kiss ass and Very Obvious about these things. Also he can't talk to women. He can barely talk to men. Help Him.

And yet they all work wonderfully as a group. They are so annoying I love them

[frauleiiin]

4 and 10 for Yuthuura from the love asks? <3

hihi thank you for the ask! <3 these are very interesting.

Ask

4. Does your OC consider themselves to be attractive? Do they put much effort into achieving this?

I have yet to see an ugly Twi'lek but she does perceive herself differently from reality. For a long time, she thought she could never be loved, that she'd always be seen as a lesser being.. A slave. And she thought that if she couldn't be loved, then she would be feared. Despite her undeniable beauty, her tattoos and scars definitely make her look intimidating. As for her own perception of her physique, she doesn't hate what she sees but doesn't love it either, she definitely doesn't stand infront of mirrors often. In terms of effort, she doesn't actively make herself "prettier" but she does dress herself well! She often prefers robes and dresses because she's kinda self-conscious about her legs (she's quite skinny). With time she does battle her insecurities and start seeing herself as the beautiful woman she is <3

10. Does your OC have a type? Have they ever been surprised by their feelings for someone who doesn't fit this?

Due to her past as a slave she built a lot of distrust for humans (men specifically), so for a while she was mainly attracted to aliens or Twi'leks. I guess she does have a thing for complicated men lol, she's complicated herself so she needs someone who's unapologetically flawed too. "Have they ever been surprised by their feelings for someone who doesn't fit this?" Yes, Mr. Nikos wins that prize LMAO. He does fit the complicated man category, however he does NOT fit into the alien one. She 100% never thought she'd be able to be loved, at all, but even less by a human. Falling in love with him was unexpected but after getting to know him better, she had no doubt he was the right person for her 🥹 (I'm like so normal about them)

[daincrediblegg]

My dad seems to think that it’s a problem that slow horses is now the metric by which I judge all other tv shows I watch with him but what he doesn’t know is that I’m right

[quietwingsinthesky]

i know what tattoo millie doesn’t have, because during the short period where lucifer’s possessing her, she keeps taking the wheel of the vessel to go and get herself the ugliest cartoon devil tattoos money can buy. lucifer is wasting precious grace getting those off of her body because he can’t stand them, and then she just goes and gets another one in a couple days time.

[dirtyassvoiceactors]

Oml ok Raven Queen coming in with a 2 for one boons on the menu kkkkk

Shes like “why these level 15 are fighting a godeater level creature, the last party i talked to who were doing that were level 20 wtf?! There’s a level 20 party on the moon, jeez you poor newbies here a free lvl up fuck it 2 for one”

RQ: “My life is in the hands of an idiot”

BH: “nonono, two eight idiots”