#min theorizes stuff

[odysseys-blood]

honestly i feel atp its disingenuous to act like anyone knows the lore of the game super clearly and that anyone else who tries to interpret whats going on is the most wrong person on earth like the game doesnt feel like its got 5 different people writing the story and none of them are on speaking terms

[tameable50]

HI HELLO!

I have no clue why you would want to click this blog but hey hope you like my deranged ass

about us

please tag posts with Reblog bait, Pics of Deep water/the ocean, and Clowns as "#bye bye ash"

We all go by tame

We got ADHD autism and dyslexia and probably dysgraphia and OCD too. Also I'm a system

im probably some type of non human but idk what type :p

Ash is in a qpr with Arbor of @ilikedeltarune-notyou

Ash's persona!!

system members! (That can front at least we don't have a head space:[)

Ash: all pronouns | non binary, aroace(maybe)

Two: he/them | unknown | bisexual

Isaac: he/they | boy(maybe) | boy kisser

Red: she/her | lessbin | trans mouse girl (mouse girl better not have some fuckass horny meaning like puppy girl)

Story: she/her | lesbian | trans girl

Silver: he/him | aroace | agender

lime: he/him | gay | boy

Shadow: he/him | "gender and sexuality is a waist of time"

Wendy: she/her | straight aro | demi girl

Apple: he/they | bi aro | demi boy

ralsei: he/him | aroace(maybe) | boy

Sonic the hedgehog: any | gay ace | xenogender

My Interests!

Pokemon (special interest)

Sonic the hedgehog (special interest)

Shadow the hedgehog (it's different from sonic trust)

Undertale/deltarune (special interest)

Queer stuff

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Epic the musical

miku! (Also kinda a special interest kinda not idk man)

A webbing journey

Tadc

art

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lackadaisy

Reptiles!

Animals (very different from reptiles you gotta believe me)

Helluva boss

Walls

mythology

kwite (he's better than every YouTuber ever your wrong if you disagree/j)

Mcyts (shut up I know)

hazbin hotel

"weird" history

Theories (Just Theories in general I don't have to know anything about whats being theorized about I just like hearing theories)

I also admin a few communities if you care lol

A webbing journey!

Country verse community

Genderfluid people

Ghcorbos!

LACKADAISY FANDOM!

life series fandom of Tumblr

Magikarp appreciation group

Nerodivergent creatures

Poland ball

The abrosexuals of Tumblr!

The bored dromaeosaur cult

THE CULT OF TAME

(Don't ask about those two)

the cult of the neurodiverse

Transgenders of Tumblr

Even more links yippee!

Bulesky

Pronouns page

The-Tameables is our Simply Plural

damn i thought there be more

Blogs!

Gimmicks:

@pokepilled-monmaxer @bisexual-airforce @country-pride-flags @gimmick-hunger-games @the-fr-north-carolina-totally @abrosexual-military @aromantic-navy @apple-unofficial @hellsite-hall-of-min @trans-army-real @queer-platonic-coast-guard @thats-a-epic-reference @the-detector-detector @our-qpr-experience @the-sonicjah @furry-struggles @when-the-crewmate-is-stupid @literally-just-a-fox

Group blogs:

@the-cult-of-the-neurodiverse @is-it-an-adhd-thing @is-it-autistic-to @autisms-be-autism @earth-updates-today @our-rights-were-won-with-fights @queer-platonic-coast-guard

me-a-veres (that have posts):

@tameable52 @tameable53 @tameable54 @tameable55

[1moreff-creator]

Now that you've had some time to cool down from the Fuckfest of Friday Night, I'm a little curious on what you think of MonoTV's whole deal, because I haven't seen anyone actually talk about it much and that makes me so upset because wow Dev somehow managed to get me to care about this piece of steel

Spoilers up to the end of CH2

Hey! Yeah, MonoTV, huh? With everything else going on, this thing kinda got pushed aside, but there's been some really interesting developments indeed. I agree though, it's genuinely pretty incredible dev managed to get me to care about what up to this point had been nothing but a device for plot and humor.

You know, I originally wanted to keep this brief to give my full thoughts on the full part 2 analysis I'm working on, but maybe it's better if I just talk about it in full here and just link to this post from that one. Let me start by the theory side, because that's easier for me to write about :v

While MonoTV's creation being connected to XF-Ture Tech was always a very real possibility, the confirmation that at least its personality drivers come from them is nice. And there doesn't seem to be any type of repurposing going on:

MonoTV: Whenever I make a decision, ultimately, I must make the choice that fulfills my purpose [to run the killing game until the death of every participant]. After all, that was why I was created.

While we don't fully understand how this all fits together yet, I'm glad XF is being brought up because that might mean Min content in the future? For me, please? :,D

Anyways. Having a clearly stated goal for the killing game (killing all the participants) is also pretty useful for theory-crafting purposes, so look forward to seeing that line referenced in mastermind discussions moving forward. Not to mention, the secondary purpose of MonoTV playing the villain, with the reasoning:

MonoTV: This so-called TV show is more about appearances than you'd think.

So... ignoring the weird phrasing of "so-called TV show" as opposed to just "TV show," because I will go crazy if I look too deep into that, the confirmation that the appearances of the killing game are important seem to confirm a suspicion Teruko had back in CH2 Ep2.

Teruko: And also, [MonoTV is designed the way it is] as a way to reference that "past killing game," right?

Assuming via context that she's talking about THH, MonoTV being specifically created and programmed to look and act sorta like Monokuma could have some interesting implications moving forward, especially given things like Duke Spurling being alive to see the Tragedy and maybe wanting a recreation of the THH killing game. Thankfully there's no character with a talent for recreating things, such as art, an art forger of some kind, because if there was this could realistically point to them as the mastermind. :)

Final note about theories: I... called it? Sort of?

[Extract from Vivisection of the David MV] What I think is the best idea [regarding the multi-colored "original"] is that all the characters [which includes MonoTV] got the word. [...] I think it makes more sense to relate them to the meaning of "original style" under my interpretation, where "original style" means a change of heart.

Well, MonoTV sure had a change of personality, albeit briefly, now didn't it? (Please ignore the fact that I dismissed the possibility of MonoTV changing in the lines following that one :p) Admittedly "characters in DRDT will have character development" is possibly my least wild theory ever, but a W is a W (?).

Alright but screw theorizing that's for insane people. Let's go for character analysis, because the fact that MonoTV has become a genuinely interesting creature to study is possibly even wilder than the XF-Ture Tech name drop.

Now, a lot of what we hear character wise is similar to stuff we heard in MonoTV's previous character building moment; CH2 EP3.

MonoTV: Does a toaster know why it toasts? Does a calculator know why it adds and subtracts? They are simply machines that do their job without needing to understand why. To that end, I don't know who made this TV show and why. All I do is carry out the directives programmed into me.

MonoTV: I have no conscience, no sense of morality, no will at all. I am merely a robot, subject to the laws of my code. I have no choice but to perform the actions that my creator dictated I must. [...] All the decisions I make were already decided by whatever entity created me, because I am a robot.

It's stated in a much more melancholic tone, given the music in the background, the sprite pose, and the generally less silly "default personality," but it's nothing really new. MonoTV is a machine, it follows programming.

Except.

MonoTV: Even if I feel pain or guilt, I cannot stop. That is the fate that I have, to make others suffer. And there is no diverging from that fate.

Hey MonoTV what the fuck does this mean.

"Even if I feel pain or guilt"? Instead of "I can't feel pain or guilt"? The choice of wording here is very interesting, because it seems to imply that MonoTV does feel pain and guilt over the killing game, regardless of how impossible that should be. The "fate" drop is pretty huge for thematic reasons, as I'm sure you're aware; Teruko explains her own feelings about it in the rest of the scene, there's Xander's speech to Teruko before he attempted to stab her, Ace talking about how he was too much of a coward to fight his fate, Arei actually defying a similar fate in a way, David with the LGI lyrics, Whit and J and Rose and so many other people, all interconnected by this damn concept. I think it'd be fine if this is all we hear about MonoTV in relation to it, but there's definitely fun parallels to explore regardless.

Given how little we have of these particular character details so far, there's not much I can say about it other than I love the concept of an AI being forced to do something it doesn't "want" to because of code, and I'm interested to see if MonoTV will act differently in the future. It's supposed to reset to its previous personality in the full reset, I imagine, but it's not like we can just ignore all the shit it said here. I'm very curious to see where dev takes this.

That said, I also wanted to point out how this vague allusion to feeling pain and guilt and possibly hopelessness against fate aren't the only feelings MonoTV exhibits. Because for some unfathomable reason, it seems to care about Teruko to an extent?

MonoTV: Is something the matter, Teruko? Everyone else has already left.

Like, maybe I'm misreading because the personality change is fucking with me, but this feels like a concern more genuine than I would expect from pre-2-16 MonoTV. And...

MonoTV: You have to decide the answer for yourself.

This, along with the little speech about Teruko's humanity that precedes it, again comes off as MonoTV genuinely trying to help her through her emotions. I don't see how this correlates with its purpose, unless it somehow "believes" that giving Teruko advice on this will somehow lead to Teruko killing someone or something to that effect, which makes no sense.

If it doesn't help kill the participants, isn't necessary for the killing game, and doesn't make MonoTV seem like a villain, then it's not related to any of its purposes. It isn't code making MonoTV say this things. It's MonoTV's... consciousness? I guess? It's very, very interesting.

I am genuinely super interested in where dev is taking MonoTV, and if you told me that was a sentence I would unironically type before this episode, I would have called you insane. The writing in this series is genuinely immaculate, I can't believe we're getting genuine basis for MonoTV angst and it's compelling. Dev does it again!

Thanks for the ask, this was fun to ramble about!

[froggy-having-a-crisis]

Getting my mom into fandom stuff and tumblr is definitely the best idea I've ever had. Nothing says mother-daughter bonding like sitting in the living room and deciding if a song had enough Good Omens vibes for our Good Omens playlist or theorizing about the finale while washing the dishes.

(Or just randomly getting sent edits or fanart)

It's also just fun to look at her David Tennant sideblog and see that she's reblogging stuff and posting stuff as soon as she gets up, or in the middle of the night

(Also I've been working on a Crowley cosplay, and I asked her to take some pictures of me in what I have so far and she spent like 30 mins posing me and taking pictures. It was so much fun)

Her blogs are:

Main: @fierydragonwarrior

David Tennant sideblog: @temple-of-tennant

[driver-doves]

Some random future chapter scenario predictions becuase its midnight and i cannot sleep.

-the remaining cast finds a group photo of the 27th east coast. the photo includes mai, and excludes teruko.

-Some interesting spin around of the chapter three motive of dr1. what i think atm is viewers of the kg being able to pay money to essentially "dare" the remaining cast to do stuff until a murder happens.

-a character is dead (or atleast thought to be dead) gets an active speaking role (this one is just wishful thinking lmao)

-atleast one mai flashback or reference every episode

-an arei bonus episode or mv (same with the chap2 killer)

-Chapter three revolving around the mystery of charles brother, while also tackling everyone elses secrets on the side.

-Mins jacket atleast being somewhat mentioned (the scene after the chap1ep12 with a "you" character collecting the jacket has been on my mind since first watch, its probably just a fun side element but still-)

-more info about the spurling foundation or xf-ture tech (i have gone carzy theorizing over these pls help-)

[xtinaangelicax]

J Being on the Chapter 2 Title Card?? Theorizing (sorta... I'm clueless ;-;)

Can we talk about the fact that J is on the chapter 2 title card rn?? Like... I see ALMOST NO ONE so far in the fandom theorizing about what this could mean. We know that her secret about Mariabella being her mom was revealed during this chapter, but... I don't really feel like that's big enough to warrant her being on the title card yet so far? I think? It's an important secret, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't rly rival the importance of the actual murders going on imo.

I mean-- Teruko and Xander were on the first chapter title card. That is a big deal. Xander died after trying to kill Teruko, and got killed by Min instead: Teruko's our protagonist. Being on the title card is obviously the most indicative clue of a character being insanely important to the narrative for that chapter, possibly even a culprit or victim, but we all just been sleepin on that clue lately and ignoring it lol wut--

Like... I mean, J tries enlisting Teruko's help getting away from Arturo for a minute in this chapter- the dressing room scene- and has a frigging knife pulled on her. She got her secret she desperately wanted to cover up, probably for a large portion of her life, exposed by some jerk in the very same, what, 24 hour period? And she's constantly now being stalked by said jerk, too. Poor gal.

I don't know if J maybe snapped from it all, and murdered Arei. I'm not sure how she WOULD have, given Arturo stalking her. So... maybe it's... something else? But like? SOMETHING is being set up with J here, and if anyone has any ideas feel free to suggest, cuz I can't figure out what it is yet. I'm thinking randomly off the top of my head of stuff we know... like...

J was the first to go to Arei's room to check for her body, after they realized she was missing? Also, J was the first to complain about Teruko possibly being in cahoots with the culprit and choosing who guards the body based on that. After which, J was then promptly chosen to guard the body as well. Important? Possibly. Maybe. Idk...

She goes on a whole spiel about how serious murder is that gains a lot of spotlight for a few minutes, when she was talking to Nico... also, she has this new sadistic grin sprite after revealing Arturo's secret. UH is that sprite gonna be used again for something?

I think there's literally no way J isn't gonna have some sort of big reveal of significance to the plot during the rest of the chapter 2 trial.

There's a bit of evidence that could point to her being the killer, but I don't wanna say I believe that for sure. Just that... SOMETHING'S up.

J being on the chapter 2 title card is definitely important.

ALSO FINALLY: J's hidden quote is "Please don't call me your daughter ever again."

????????how the frick is J going to say this quote?? So far, all the hidden quotes have been said a little while before the character dies, before/during a pivotal moment in the plot and their development... therefore, J is gonna say this line at some point. That's indisputable.

But??? How?? Will it be said during a flashback where she said it to Mariabella in the past? Or... are we gonna see J get in contact with her mom somehow? Is J the culprit, and MonoTV calls in a 'special guest viewer video call' right before her execution just to rub it in her face, and it's her mom, and... J says her hidden quote there?

Is one of the future motives gonna involve being able to communicate something with your family, maybe, and then J says it?

I'm probably gonna look back more and see if there's any other sort of hints or foreshadowing going on with J, but... I just wanted to point all this out and possibly open up discussion/theorizing about this :)

[teruki-inoue21]

THE… END?? 

Aight so… to y’all Of those who’s goin’ mad watching S2E12 like me, I���m here to analyze it and make y’all go EVEN more mad. Let’s start

WHY were the glitching effects there when Liu Lan (Tianchen’s and Tianxi’s mom) died. Like, we know that the glitching effects appear when there’s some time travel shenanigans, so is it possible that in probably Link Click III, someone from the present actually was possessing Tianchen or Tianxi and saw what went down? Was LIU FRIKIN XIAO involved??? [ Like, I know CXS was inhibiting Xixi at that point, but what I mean is that what if someone from even further in the future, like from S3 stuff, possessed either Tianchen or Liu Lan (the scene was from Tianchen’s POV, so…]

2. LESSSS GOOOO !!!! Lu Guang confirmed to be a time traveler! But what’s weird is that how does he have CXS’s ability? Does it mean that the theory regarding LG actually giving CXS his powers is true? Also, which photo did LG use to dive back? When did he dive back? It could be that while we were thinking that CXS dies in the events of S2, it was all a fluke and he actually dies in some S3 stuff? ( refer back to my post relating to Liu Xiao v Lu Guang). 

3. Liu Xiao - oh you……. WHAT THE FRIK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?! Like, be at least a little bit sad that your brother died, will ya? Also, I guess I was right about Liu Min’s phone being important for the plot. And, did he LITERALLY lowkey indicate diverging and/or converging timelines when he said he wanted to connect all possible lines and go towards one single conclusion??? WTF????? What CONCLUSION?? What DESTINY?????    

4. So, milady Wang Juan is alive! Who’s happy? But, Ayo, Xiao Li legit made a division on crimes related to paranormal abilities? Yo, that’s gonna be super important later on!!!! This bit is making me SOOO sure that Liu Xiao has some ability as well (once again, refer back to the post where I liken him to Lu Guang)

5. And, why was the teacher guy’s (who was in a affair with Liu Lan) face hidden? Will HE be important for S3 as well???  

6. Idfk but please tell me Qiao Ling got Tianxi’s ability!!  

7. Finally, we gonna have Lu Guang’s backstory. Qiao Ling, my dear, care to share? 

8. And last but not the least, it seems we finally gonna get our duo (CXS n LG) v another (LTch and Liu Xiao). Yep, Liu Xiao, tell us what your power is! Don’t tell me, u got yo’ powers from the same place as CXS and LG?? (Do note that he was abroad too and said a lot of interesting things happened there!!! YOOO I’MMA LOSE MA MIND!!!!!!)   

Yea, good goin’ theorizing about all these, me lads! Til then, I’ma go listen to the banger of an ED they gave in that last episode!

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Something that's frequently on my mind as I do the anti stalker rewrite/making them my own characters is how I'm gonna be respectful Abt it. Like, first of all I bounce back and forth on whether it's too niche or not. The fandom on Tumblr is abysmally small but on Webtoon it's both an original and has like 90k plus reading last I checked, I can't remember if it was thousands or mil- 90 m sounds ridiculous scratch that

Second, this ultimately is a rewrite before making them my own, really the only reason I'm redesigning them and changing their names is so I can use them for portfolio and other stuff, just heavy inspo from the webtoon

Also the same face syndrome was really bad they reused hairstyles and faces a lot I got mixed up between characters

AND it's a rewrite out of love. If I ever make a video all about this Webtoon and my rewrite, that's something I want to make especially clear. I read the thang when I was in middle school and ALL of season 1 just had me SO HOOKED I was making headcanons left and right and predicting and theorizing what was gonna happen next MADLY.

And then s1's finale happened which was.. ight? It has problems but it was really when I started going "wait a min..." Season 2 was ehhh for a time and then I REALLY fell off like WHAT. WHAT DO YOU MEAANN I THOUGHT. I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA HAVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

(i think what happened was webtoon cut them short and they had to pick and choose what to focus on for s2, meaning a lot of things got unresolved + left behind, or resolved poorly. It took a turn to focus on romance that just hadn't been earned yet. Kira deserved more time to process things, August SHOULD have said sorry. For A TON OF SHIT. In general the jokes from s1 went from, we're poking fun at this but you get the vibe if stuff happens then it'll take time. To, jokes still happen, but they feel more sexist and at the expense of Kira's writing. August's possessiveness doesn't get examined, when that should have been a strictly Pretending to be her stalker thing and Kira doesn't feel the same. She's now a character for the boys to fight over, and while that existed in s1 it wasn't as heavy handed, there was more to focus on and Kira had... Some agency... There's something weird going on when the webtoon starts with Kira with her friends at school, a community she's grown, to an ending only showing her as a mom with August (who's significantly more masculine now for some reason) with their two kids which I CANT SEE KIRA WANTING??? SHE HAS MEDICAL PROBLEMS WITH BEING A ROYAL VAMPIRE AND WEREWOLF'S DAUGHTER IN CANON I can't see her wanting that for her children when it'll be 2x worse for them since BOTH Kira and August have the royal blood in them)

Tangent over.

All that being said, I still love so much of it and my rewrite is a product of "GOD YOUR WORK HAD ME GOING UP AND DOWN THE WALLS I COULDN'T CONCENTRATE DURING SCHOOL I WAS SO EXCITED" and the insanity still drives me to this day and idk dude if I were to make something I worry Abt the author coming across it and feeling hurt yknow, esp since they haven't been online for like 3 years and no one knows if they are ok.... They don't know the insanity their creation has cast upon me. It's largely a positive thing I just want that to be clear yknow

When I create stuff for it, aside from art + ramblings it's probably gonna be on AO3 for fanfic and still, on here for comic. Cuz a lot of my ideas just cannot be recreated in any other format but comic

I still keep coming back to it man. I keep thinking of new ideas for how plotlines could have been handled and it makes me so giddy.

[toastermin-it]

so the P4D plot is fighting a god (again) with dance

P5D and P3D is just elizabeth and lavenza betting to see whose cast dances better

but what if P2ISD and P2ETD (or just P2D, that'd be fun.) was just philemon going

"tatsuya, maya, wake up. i made another bet with nyarlathotep and i'm not going to lose today."

P1D is just philemon saying "yeah you guys can go have fun, dance your hearts out" because for some reason he's NICER TO THE PERSONA 1 CAST THAN HE IS TO THE CASTS IN THE PERSONA 2 GAMES

atlus please give your older games more attention

[yuugami-tan]

best fwiend and i are matching on discord 😍

feat. her reaction

[artficlly]

hey so i think i'm in love w you. this is my confession of love. holy shit ??? i'm gnawing at the bars of my cage, positively crying in the clurb reading this oh my god?? i love when i get reblogs like this i'm actually??? sobbing. SPEECHLESS. this fic took me like 4 days of fucking mania to write, like genuinely i was going crazy. at one point in ending near the end i just got up and went for a walk for like 40 mins and looked at some trees i was actually going fully insane.

anyway pls keep all limbs inside the vehicle bc i am about to drive the yap train bc omg. i am not beating the i am going to be so normal about this allegations.

my reaction to the beginning was me just marveling at how well done the dialogue was and how real the exchange between reader and Yelena was as friends. You also communicated the sharp and intentional movements we've seen from Yelena very well.

oh my god tysm?? i love writing yelena, she's my fave girlie. i'm so happi happi that you thought that !?!? i always fear that i have over-exaggerated her character or whateva. i'm so bad for like... not being normal when it comes to one-shots. i can't just write a scene like a normal person. must establish a whole lore and how the reader interacts with the other characters. this fic could've been so much shorter, but it also could've been so much longer because i cut myself off writing more unplotted scenes after about 8k words. no more world-building! bad!

The way you write is so fucking good, I’m literally in awe. You have one of the most immersive writing styles I’ve ever read I'm not fucking kidding. And I've been reading Bucky for literally ever bro. He's my bottom bitch fr, and I think I'm hailing you as the best Bucky writer I've come across-like ever.

hey so i'm crying rn. sobbing actucally?/ what the hell. thank you so much?? i've been trying to improve my writing a lot recently so it genuinely means sm to me. i've been enjoying writing more modern stuff recently where i can be kinda unserious about it. i sit down with legit the vaguest of vague ideas, maybe some dialogue and then just kinda word vomit on the doc until it works out. like i'm legit attaching u a screenshot of my plotting for the beginning of this fic so u can understand how whimsical and barebones my plotting is. 80% it just ends up being dialogue bc i write it in my notes app when i cant sleep looool.

The other thing I love about your writing is how colloquial it is. I don’t even know if that makes sense, or if that's the best descriptor but I'm gonna use it from now on. I just mean you write the same way I think. It’s quippy, it’s funny, it’s evocative, it’s clever, and it makes perfect sense.

i'm glad u enjoy it bc i worry so much some times that it's too unserious LMAO. i mean, it's fanfic, how serious does a bitch gotta be ?? i also struggle a bit reading flowery language at times or finding the meaning or theme in something bc i'm stupid so i fear my writing is just a string of thoughts somehow made into a story lol

The way you get the MCU. Except the erection comment—disney wouldn’t like that one lol but I loved it—this sounds exactly like some idle conversation Natasha would make in a cap movie as she decodes shit on a computer.

i hate brutalism <3 i'm sorry i just do and EVERY MOVIE THE HYDRA BASES ARE JUST A CONCRETE BOX AND I'M LIKE PLSS?? they must have more money??? show me HYDRA biblical greed plsss

Maybe one of the funniest bucky-centric lines I’ve ever read in a bucky fic. Idk if that makes sense but it's a fucking funny quip that only works in a Bucky fic because this bitch knows no other emotion than: brood.

glad u enjoyed that line, it was a last second addition as i descended into mania <3

It feels like he wants to be punished.

hehe <3

I FUCKING KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT. I CALLED IT. THAT DIRTY FUCKER. SLY MOTHER FUCKING COPING PICK ME. Also, fabulous way to convey that plot twist <3 I wonder if it would be too far to theorize that she became his mentee under the same circumstances. Idk, it’d be embarrassing to theorize that and then be blatantly wrong when I finish the fic lmfao. 

hehe i'm so glad u liked that twist. it came to me while i was toasting a bagel and i was like on god what if he requesTED TO BE PAIRED WITH HER SO HE COULD 'PROTECT' HER BUT ALSO BE NEAR HER AND anyway if the reveal had been that he requested to be her mentor would've also been crazy. i think it's more fun thinking about him suffering being paired w her and panicking, yet still denying all of her mentor transfer requests. i also fear that mayhaps bucky was secretly pleased about and liked training her, not only bc he could be around her bc he's in looooove but also bc he knows that she can defend herself? teaching her skills to become better? bc he's protective like that i think it would bring him joy knowing that she could take down a mf using what HE TAUGHT her.

Holy shit, do I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that shit show. Also, he relayed like three separate sentiments from the slut shaming debacle and I’m sitting here like, ‘okay, one was enough lmfao. I get the picture. Thank you. They think I’m a slut, got it.’ Just gut punch after gut punch after gut punch LMFAO

he was festering on that FOR SURE. i also think the reader would've been mad if he didn't explain the full severity and extend of what they said yk. ALSO i did have thoughts about her witnessing him going off on them etc, but i decided it was kinda more impacyful to be an off-screen thing? idk.. just smth about him silently defending and protecting her without her knowledge is sooooo... ugh idek the words. like theres no tryna prove himself or having an ego about it (maybe only internally lol) but just genuine care for that person.

Although, I would like to point out: Bucky made a comment earlier about how she’s always bouncing between men. I’d like to know what his thinking is there. Other men can’t call it out but he can? I’m not actually criticizing him (and definitely not your writing-I'm not trying to poke holes or anything, I firmly trust everything was intentional and am taking it as such-bucky be a complicated bitch) because I love complicated men and messy drama

okay so, i did have some thoughts on that 4 u. i can understand it is kinda confusing and weird but in my mind while i was writing, from HIS perspective i don't think he realised he was slut shaming. from his perspective he was critcising the men, maybe even trying to draw attention to it bc he's a jealous, whiny bitch who wants the reader for himself. i think in his eyes he was just trying to point out the obvious, while also struggling to navigate these concepts of modern dating etc.

he's like i would NEVER call you a slut. you're just a BEAUTIFUL AMAZING WOMAN who is a VICTIM TO THESE EVIL MEN. i am NOT an evil man. pls pls pls pls. honestly, I should've made him beg in this fic. ON UR KNEES SIR! BEG FOR FORGIVENESS!

OOP! Gag it. I forgot to say it somewhere earlier but he so badly wants to be more for her. He wants to be her peace. He wants to be the last guy she dates, because this time it won’t end in a shit show. He wants to show her what real love is from a real man. Oh he’s so rotten and evil I love him.

u got it spot on there. he doesn't think she's a slut, he just thinks all the men around her suck bc he's OBVIOUSLY the one for her and could do sooo much better and treat her right etc etc blah blah blah this man is down so bad and also full of himself LOL/

I’m so glad smut didn’t ensure right after the confession because one) it adds more drama and two) I think it aligns better with the story, the flow, the pacing, and also how you’ve written the Reader so far 

i def wanted the reader to think about it for awhile and kinda weigh up the situation in her own time. also bouncing on it when bucky has a bullet wound (super soldier or not) does not seem healthy loool.

I don't even think I'd give him props for caring about her reputation despite him lumping her in on the fear of embarrassment from colleagues comment. I think he's solely thinking of himself and how vulnerable his feelings make him. He's an exposed vein and she's poking and prodding at him for fun in front of everyone, loving the way he bleeds for her. I think your choice to write that comment in gives such a great insight into how insecure and mad he is over her. He's dealing with such confusing feelings, not to mention he can't stop berating himself for them, he's just a huge complicated ball of exposed nerves.

once again, hit the nail on the head! he's so shy <3 i think he knows the reader would be confident and chill enough to rock them having a relationship, while hes all like oh god oh fuck what if people know i have feelings?? not to angst this bitch up but a lot of this could be traced into the whole fear of HYDRA getting control of him again and exploiting those feelings/memories/relationships. he's so used to positive interactions and relationships being used against him that he fears getting close to people. plus consequences of what could, not only happen to him, but to the people he cares about if they are used to hurt him.

i didn't really get much into his trauma throughout this one-shot because on god it would've ended up like 20k words and i feel like i would be repeating a lot of things i've tied into my series lessons in lovemaking but trust me it was on the brain while writing.

SHE KISSED HIM DURING GROUP SPAR ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING ARE YOU JOSHING ME RN

i think if i had the patience i would've had her beating theo & co's ass first, then all sweaty take down bucky with a kiss but i was fully manic and insane and way over my usual word count so i didn't end up doing that. pretend i did, that wouldve been fire. 'i can look after myself bucky xoxox'

You can't just kiss me and then walk away (wants more), you kissed me to mess with me (wants her to divulge her boundaries and finally reject him)

hehe <3 man is shook to his core and desperate! wdym if i just communicated like a normal person we wouldn't have needed to do this dance and i could've been with you a lot sooner???

Oh fuck I love him and I love you for writing this masterpiece. I'm in awe of your brain and all the little intricacies you've added. I'm a fic writer myself, so I think it gives me an even deeper appreciation for the world and story you've built here. Everything was carefully thought up in your gorgeous brain and you executed it so well.

SOB tysm??!?! i hope i haven't ruined the magic w my ramblings in this reblog.

But also you’re crushing this fic. So many things are happening that I wouldn’t have expected, such as this sequence right now. You’re really drawing out the impending climax, building really fucking good tension. It’s so delicious how she’s making him wait. Holy fuck the way she’s just stripping in front of him and he’s too busy bitching oh hes so dead.

hehehe when i started plotting this fic, the only concrete scenes i KNEW i wanted was a. the intro scene where she's slamming back shots and everyone is horrified and b. bucky too busy bickering while she's stripping and getting in the shower. i had the "i think you need to cool down :)" ENGRAINED into my BRAIN.

Fantastic fic, you always come through in that department. This is going under my fav tag

thank you so so soooo much <333 literally have experienced every emotion reading ur comments. im like so emotional fr deadass. theres just something so sweet about having someone care that much about your project to break down their thoughts on it like i genuinely appreciate it so much, tysm for reading my silly ass fics <3

the art of pretending [one-shot]

marvel au bucky x agent!reader

being mentored by bucky is nothing short of torture; he’s cold, infuriating, and impossible to please. but when a mission gone wrong leaves you stranded in a freezing safehouse together, you start to wonder if all that supposed hatred has just been hiding something else entirely.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, shower sex, unprotected sex, fingering, forced proximity, one bed, kissing, enemies to lovers-ish?, sexual tension, sparring, mentor bucky, bickering, insults, violence, bit of blood/gore/wound descriptions, bucky has issues, protective bucky, slut shaming (not from bucky), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 12.4k

A/N: hi! this is for some requests i received (one and two). i combined two of the requests because they were pretty similar, hope thats okay and i hope you enjoy! this took me... so long to write. i hope it doesn't flop <3 sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

You had two goals for the night: get shitfaced and get railed. So, catching your asshole boyfriend wrist-deep in some girl’s panties, doing the kind of finger work he never even bothered to learn for you, wasn’t part of your itinerary.

You could’ve cried, you could’ve begged, or collapsed into a sad cliché with a tub of ice cream and Sex and the City reruns. But no, you had a mission, and one mission alone. Get so unbelievably drunk on whatever you could get your hands on, so drunk in fact that you wanted to black out before midnight and preferably unconscious until sunset the next day.

Tony’s penthouse parties weren’t usually your scene. Too many sleazy rich men with superiority complexes, trophy wives sipping champagne through botoxed grins, and a carousel of extras that Stark always vehemently denied were hookers. What you did know was that, being an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D., your name was always on the list, and tonight, free top-shelf booze felt like divine intervention.

You just had to get in, get drunk, and avoid eye contact with your co-workers long enough to pull off a quiet mental breakdown and ignore the fact that you were rather underdressed for the type of party Stark was hosting. Scantily clad club clothing clashed hard with the pearls and Prada crowd.

A few raised brows and vague greetings followed you as you slithered through the gathering. 

But you held back a groan when you spotted the trio parked at the bar: Yelena, Steve, and Bucky. Great. The Greek god chorus of shame, in all their sculpted, judgmental glory. They looked just as uncomfortable as you felt, loitering by the bar instead of mingling with Stark’s circus.

You ignored their stares and made a beeline for the shelves behind the bartender—some poor kid who looked far too green for this gig. He gave you a look of dismay as you grabbed a bottle of tequila without asking. Slamming down a shot glass, you poured with shaky hands and knocked it back with the elegance of a car crash.

You barely registered the silence that followed until you glanced up and saw the stunned expressions staring back at you.

Yelena was the first to speak. “What happened to you? You never come to these things.”

You poured another shot. “Free drinks,” you muttered, then downed it, already lining up the next. No salt. No lime. Just pain, raw and unfiltered, sliding down your throat.

“I thought you were going out with your boyfriend?” She continued to press, while Steve looked rather scandalised as he watched you swallow back your third shot in a row with a shudder. 

Yelena reached over and snatched the bottle from your hand before you could pour again. “You should slow down.”

​​You blinked at her, teeth gritted, blood thrumming loud in your ears. She meant well. Of course she did. You’d always gotten along—ever since she’d been assigned as your mentor in your early days at S.H.I.E.L.D. You two had clicked effortlessly. It was all a part of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s long-term strategy to make field missions run smoother and reduce casualties. Avengers were paired with up-and-coming agents to pass down their experience and training, with the hope that one day, those hard-earned skills would save lives.

But everything changed when they reassigned you.

You’d been told it was to ‘broaden your skillset’, that it was about growth, adaptability, and learning from different leadership styles. What they didn’t say was that it would mean training under James Buchanan Barnes, aka Mr. No-Praise-All-Pain.

You’d tried. Really. At first, you gave it your all. Took his criticism, bit your tongue, pushed harder. But Bucky didn’t bend. He didn’t compliment. Didn’t guide. He just judged, cold and final, like every failure confirmed whatever low expectations he had of you.

Five months of that, and you were drowning. You begged for reassignment—back to Yelena, to Natasha, to anyone—but were denied every time. Some higher-up probably thought your mutual disdain was ‘motivating’, like locking two angry wolves in a cage and expecting them not to rip each other’s throats out.

And now here he was. Bucky Barnes. His suit jacket was slung carelessly over the back of his bar stool, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the sharp line of his collarbone. His dress shirt clung to his muscular frame, sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those unfairly defined forearms and the gleam of vibranium wrapped around a bottle of beer. His expression was stony, but familiar—stern brow, mouth set in a tight line, like he was already displeased with you and you hadn’t even said a word yet.

That look. That look you couldn’t stand.

Disappointment, or maybe pity. You couldn’t tell. Either way, it made your skin itch.

You wanted to punch him in his sullen, pouty face.

Instead, you laughed bitterly and reached for the bottle again, only for Yelena to hold it further away, firm.

“I said slow down,” she warned.

You made a face at Yelena. “Uh, you can’t talk. I saw you do shots out of a candle holder once.”

She didn’t even blink.

“Yes. And you called me messy. So I stopped.” She turned away just long enough to vanish the tequila bottle from sight like some sleight-of-hand magician. “This is me returning the favour. Stop it. You’re being messy.”

You barked out a harsh laugh and rubbed a hand down your face, smearing frustration across your cheeks. “You know what’s messy? My boyfriend. Well—ex-boyfriend.”

Across the bar, Bucky shook his head and muttered something low under his breath. You didn’t catch it, but you were sure it was vile because even Steve glanced over at him in disbelief, his eyebrows climbing high. Great. Judgment from Captain Morality and the Tin Soldier. Just what you needed.

Yelena sighed, already exhausted. “What did he do this time?”

You could tell she was reaching the end of her patience, and honestly, it was fair. She’d been your reluctant witness through the entire tragic saga of your love life. Two and a half years of emotional landmines and loser boyfriends who all somehow managed to be worse than the last. It was impressive, in a bleak kind of way.

You gestured vaguely, your expression somewhere between rage and disbelief. “I was supposed to meet him at some sleazy club downtown, his buddy was DJing—-fucking terrible DJ by the way. I’d barely walked in the door when I caught him in a back booth, fingering some girl who wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it!”

Yelena’s lips pursed. Steve stared like he’d never heard someone use the word ‘fingering’ out loud before.

“What did you do?” Yelena asked, her voice low, careful.

“Oh, the usual,” you said sweetly. “I punched him. Hard. He hit the floor like a sack of shit. Then I stepped on his hand until I felt something snap.”

Steve choked on his beer, coughing violently into his elbow. Bucky just watched you with the world's best poker face, a slight clench in his jaw muscles. 

You smiled at Steve, feral and unbothered. “Don’t worry, Cap. He won’t be playing DJ with anyone’s body parts anytime soon.”

Yelena gave a low whistle, somewhere between impressed and alarmed. “You actually broke his hand?”

“Felt like justice.” You shrugged. “Plus, he was always texting with that hand. Two birds, one stomp.”

“That’s assault,” Steve managed, his voice slightly strangled.

“Oh, please,” you said, rolling your eyes. “We’ve all done worse.”

Across the bar, Bucky finally spoke, his voice gravel-edged and unimpressed. “And now you’re here, drinking like a lunatic in front of half the team. Real graceful recovery.”

Your shoulders tensed, that familiar heat creeping up your spine.

“I’m not showing up for training tomorrow,” you said flatly. “Hell, I don’t plan on being conscious tomorrow.”

Bucky didn’t miss a beat. “It’s going on your report.”

Your mid-year report. Just another excuse for Bucky to publicly drag you, whining to the higher-ups about what a terrible mentee you were. How you needed to ‘apply yourself’, ‘show initiative’, or whatever corporate nonsense they lapped up. And of course, those same higher-ups were always looking for a reason to cut dead weight. One misstep, and you were done.

“Of course it is,” you snapped, spinning on your heel. “You miserable, ancient cunt.”

Steve choked on his beer again.

Without another word, you reached behind the overwhelmed bartender, who looked about five seconds from quitting, and grabbed the nearest bottle. You didn’t even look at the label. You stormed off with tequila already burning in your veins and spite lighting the way. 

—

You were leaning casually against the wall outside the gym’s changing rooms, dressed in workout gear that was probably a little more flattering than necessary. Tight enough to flatter your waist, breathable enough to pass as practical. Around you, the low hum of chatter buzzed from a small group of fellow agents. You were killing time before your dreaded one-on-one training session with Barnes.

Theo leaned a shoulder beside yours, towelling sweat from the back of his neck. He’d been an agent about as long as you had—charming, competent, and a little too easy to get along with. The two of you were part of that unofficial after-hours crew: drinks on Fridays, complaints about the job, stumbling home tipsy and hungover texts on Saturday mornings.

“You’re on sparring duty all week too?” Theo asked, glancing at you with mock pity. “I swear Rogers gets off on making me eat mat.”

“I know what you mean. Barnes definitely loves making me suffer,” you replied with a grimace. “That man has a personal vendetta against me.”

Theo grinned, tossing the towel over his shoulder, and he gave you a playful sidelong look. “When I get knocked on my ass, promise you’ll kiss it better?”

You arched a brow, but the smirk tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. “Careful. I’m starting to think you’re flirting with me.”

“Starting to?” he shot back, unfazed. “Let me make it clearer. If I don’t get my ass handed to me by Rogers, I’ll buy you a drink Friday.”

You leaned back against the wall, arms folding over your chest. “And if Rogers wins?”

Theo leaned in, voice low and smooth as his fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lingering just a moment too long. “Then I’ll buy you two,” he murmured.

You opened your mouth to respond. Flattered, a little surprised, already mentally debating whether it was worth shaving your legs, when a voice cut through the hallway like a blade.

“Agent. You’re late.”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. That gravel-edged tone, sharpened with disapproval, could only belong to one man.

Bucky stood at the end of the corridor, arms crossed, jaw set like granite. His black compression shirt clung to every sculpted line of his chest, joggers slung low on his hips in a way that really shouldn't have been legal. He looked like he’d just stepped out of a combat simulation and into a fitness magazine.

But the expression on his face? Full-on battlefield.

That signature scowl was locked in place, thunderclouds brewing behind his eyes as he stared straight past you, straight at Theo. Typical. You hadn’t even done anything, yet somehow, he already looked pissed.

“Training doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.” You reminded him.

He didn’t seem interested in whatever argument you were about to make, and he turned on his heel without another word.

You sighed, uncrossing your arms as you pushed off the wall and flashed Theo an apologetic smile. 

Jogging to catch up, your boots thudding against the hallway floor, you called after Bucky. “You know, there’s this really neat thing called a schedule. Maybe try sticking to it?”

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. “You could use the extra time.”

You scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. Classic Barnes, gruelling, joyless, always ready with a critique and never a compliment. He’d made it his mission to grind you down, one scathing remark at a time. And yet, you knew you were one of the top agents. The higher-ups had told you as much in your mid-year review, even going so far as to say that your mentorship with Barnes was working brilliantly. You hadn’t bothered correcting them, though it irritated more than you liked to admit. All your hard work, and somehow, he got the credit.

Bucky didn’t stop until you were both inside one of the gym’s private sparring rooms. The door clicked shut behind you. No audience. No distractions. Just him and you and the electric tension that always seemed to spark the moment you were alone together.

“Seriously, Barnes, what’s your problem today?”

Bucky stepped onto the mat, gesturing for you to follow.

“You’re here to train, not flirt in the hallway.”

You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Bucky always had a problem whenever your love life even breathed into the conversation. Said it was irrelevant. Unprofessional. A distraction.

Back when Yelena was your partner, the two of you used to spar and gossip at the same time, her dodging your punches while you gave dramatic play-by-plays of whatever your latest fling had done to you in bed the night before. She lived for it. Bucky? Not so much.

He’d cut the conversation short every time. Couldn’t even stand the sight of you laughing a little too long with someone else. He’d yank you away with some bullshit excuse like, ‘distractions on the field will get you killed’, or ‘do I need to report you for slacking off?’ Like you were breaking protocol instead of just being a human being.

You stepped into position across from him, tightening your stance, heat already prickling beneath your skin. From the glare he was giving you, he looked ready to fight. Good. So were you.

“Are you always such an asshole,” you said, voice flat, “or is that just a special little treat you save for me?”

He gave you a look, deadpan and infuriating. “Only when I’m working with someone who’s constantly late, distracted, or hungover.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose and threw a lazy jab, just to shut him up. He deflected it with a flick of his wrist like he could’ve done it in his sleep.

“And yet,” you muttered, circling to your right, “you wrote me a glowing mid-year report.”

His hand faltered for a split second. It was brief, but you caught it, a crack in the armour he hid behind.

“So you read it,” he replied, already shifting back into motion.

“Hard not to. Maria practically quoted it word for word at me in the hallway.”

His mouth flattened. “It was accurate.”

You scoffed and came at him again, this time with more force, a blow aimed at his jaw. He blocked with ease, catching your wrist mid-air and twisting just enough to tip your balance. You staggered, caught yourself, then stepped back with a glare.

“‘Most adaptive mentee in the current program,’” you quoted, circling him again.

A jab. He blocked it.

“‘Performs under pressure.’”

You followed up with a low kick aimed at his calf. He side-stepped like you were moving in slow motion.

“‘Good instincts in the field.’”

Another punch, this one he met palm to palm, stopping your momentum cold. You grit your teeth and shoved him off.

“‘Promising.’” You swept your foot in a feint and then struck at his ribs. He pivoted out of reach, breath barely changed. “‘Capable.’”

He lunged this time, arm out, trying to lock your elbow, but you twisted under it, ducking away, the mat skimming under your feet.

“‘Excellent recall.’” 

You squared off again, eyes locked on his.

“Why the hell,” you asked, low and angry, “are you always such an asshole to my face when you’re singing my praises behind my back?”

He didn’t answer right away, moving like a shadow around you, eyes locked on yours. 

“As much as it pains me,” he finally spoke, tone flat, “you are my best mentee. Even if I dislike you personally, I felt your report should reflect that.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown. That was… probably the most praise you’d ever got from him—buried beneath the usual bullshit, sure, but praise nonetheless. On a good day, you might get a grunted ‘good’ if you were lucky. Most of the time, training with Bucky was just an endless list of everything you were doing wrong, punctuated by a jab to the ribs for emphasis.

“Do you always make your compliments sound like insults?”

“It wasn’t a compliment. Just the truth.”

You threw a kick toward his side, fast and impulsive. He caught your ankle and held it, grip firm around your calf for a second too long. His vibranium fingers were cold, even through the fabric of your leggings. You could’ve sworn they tightened around the muscle just a fraction as your eyes swept up to give him a look of disbelief. But instead of pulling away, you leaned into the moment and used the hold for balance. You pivoted hard on your grounded foot, letting the captured leg swing inward. Then you launched yourself forward, hooking your other leg around his waist, aiming to bring him down with you.

For a half-second, it worked. His balance shifted. Your hips were flush against him, legs locked tight around his torso as you twisted your weight, trying to drag him off his feet.

With a grunt, he straightened, twisted, and you suddenly found yourself airborne.

You hit the mat hard, slamming against it with a thud that knocked the breath out of you. The ceiling lights above blurred for a second as the impact rattled through your spine. His shadow hovered for a beat, chest rising with exertion, jaw clenched.

He didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. Just stared down at you, maybe it was the oncoming concussion you probably just suffered, but you could’ve sworn there was a flash of concern in his eyes.

“Next time, I won’t let it slide if you don’t turn up because you’re hungover.” He wiped a forearm across his brow.

“How do you know my heart wasn’t broken?” You asked, shaking off the blow as you rose to your feet once more, feet finding their usual stance.

He arched a brow, unimpressed.

“Don’t you have sympathy for me?” you asked, somewhere between a joke and a challenge.

“I wouldn’t call it sympathy,” he said coolly. “More like pity.”

That stung more than you cared to admit. You rolled your shoulders, stepping in again. Your guard was up, but there was a crack in it now, frustration flaring under your skin.

“I can’t imagine you were actually that sad about it.” Bucky bit out, not even bothering to hide his annoyance now. “Don’t you have a new fling every other week? Sure sounded like you were lining up another one in the hallway.”

“Oh wow,” you drawled, voice harsh. “Slut shaming? This isn’t the 1940s, Barnes.”

“It’s not my fault who you choose to date.”

You exhaled, long and low. The tension between you had teeth now, gnawing at the air. “Y’know, for someone who hates me, you sure pay a lot of attention.”

He didn’t respond. Just stood there, fists flexing at his sides, poker-faced.

You waited, ready to shoulder any insult he laid on you. You could see irritation simmering under his skin, jaw ticking, knuckles white.

“I think you should take a lap or two around the room.” He huffed finally. “Your blocks are late, your punches are soft, and your stance is a joke. Try warming up before you embarrass both of us.”

You grinned back at him, though it was closer to baring your teeth than a show of amusement. “But I’m still your best mentee, huh?”

“Let’s make it five laps then.”

You gave him a lazy salute and turned for the edge of the mat.

“Whatever you say, Sergeant.”

As you jogged the first lap, footsteps echoing lightly in the private room, you could feel his eyes on you, tracking every movement and watching you like a hawk, like a fuse lit, waiting.

And damn it, you ran a little faster because of it.

—

If you’d known how this mission was going to turn out, you would’ve called in sick. Faked a family emergency. Broken your own damn leg. Anything to avoid being stuck alone with Bucky Barnes in a freezing H.Y.D.R.A. bunker from hell. You’d even considered whispering a desperate prayer to whatever all-seeing god might be listening—or hell, maybe begging Stephen Strange to yank you into an alternate universe where this wasn’t your reality.

Gunfire rattled somewhere outside the cement walls, and you imagined your fellow agents in the middle of all the fun, chucking grenades, dodging bullets, living the dream. Meanwhile, you were practically glued at the hip with Sergeant Sunshine, babysitting an ancient Soviet-era computer that looked like it still ran on dial-up.

You were perched on the edge of a desk, legs swinging, having shoved aside a mountain of dusty files scribbled in Russian. All completely useless to you.

“What is it with H.Y.D.R.A. and brutalist architecture?” you muttered, eyeing the thick ceiling. “Why does concrete get them so hard?”

“I can’t concentrate with all your whining.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s literally the first thing I’ve said in ten minutes, Barnes.”

He didn’t respond. Didn’t even throw you one of his signature grunts. Just kept clicking away like the keyboard had wronged him personally, eyes narrowed at the screen as if trying to decode the goddamn Rosetta Stone.

You groaned and rolled your head back, staring up at the ceiling.

More concrete.

You weren’t usually this unbearable on missions, but this? This whole situation felt like a personal attack. You’d been mid-flirt with Theo on the quinjet (who had been very committed to making bedroom eyes at you) when they’d called out team assignments. The second you heard your name paired with Barnes, tasked with data extraction while everyone else got to blow things up, you’d spun around to glare at him.

He’d been sitting there in his usual cold, statue-like stillness beside Steve, as if this wasn’t a death sentence. You’d stormed over, demanded if he knew anything. He just shrugged and muttered something about ‘higher-ups’.

The walls shook suddenly—another explosion—and dust drifted from the ceiling. You blinked it out of your lashes and slid lazily off the desk, sauntering over to where Bucky hunched at the terminal.

“Can you hurry it up? At this rate, they’re going to bury us alive in here.”

“Give me a second,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

You leaned in slightly, eyeing the screen. A wall of Cyrillic met you, completely unreadable. You couldn’t help the exasperated sigh that left your lips.

“Remind me again why we’re the ones doing this? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to send someone who actually speaks Russian to help you? Or, I don’t know, someone who has the patience to teach you how to use a flash drive?”

He didn’t answer, just kept typing and clicking, as if the keys owed him money.

You crossed your arms, scowling. The only thing more miserable than being stuck in a concrete crypt was being stuck in one with him. When he was distracted, like now, he forgot to wear that usual look of thinly veiled disappointment. His brow furrowed in focus, lips twitching as he muttered to himself in low, clipped Russian. He looked—God help you—human. Not like the cold-hearted pain-in-your-ass who’d spent the last six months tearing you down. But like someone thoughtful. Careful. Quietly brilliant.

And stupidly, stupidly attractive.

You hated how your eyes lingered on the way his rolled-up sleeves hugged his forearms. The way the shadows danced over his cheekbones and the little groove between his brows. The way that little furrow deepened when something didn’t go his way, like he was trying to wrestle the entire world into submission with sheer concentration alone.

It would’ve been easier if he were just awful. Easier if you didn’t catch glimpses of something else beneath the gruffness. Something that made your chest tighten a little when you weren’t focusing. 

You swallowed hard, forcing your eyes to the screen. What was wrong with you?

The download bar finally appeared on the screen, crawling forward at a snail’s pace. You exhaled loudly, half in relief, half in impatience. 

“About time,” you muttered.

He shot you a look, cold and flat. “You wanna do it?”

You turned your back on him, pacing the room. Your nerves were coiled tight, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions growing louder. The base was a pressure cooker and the damn download bar still hovered at 34%.

While you were busy taking your own turn brooding, the heavy metal door at the far end of the room slammed open with a deafening clang, nearly launching you out of your skin. Three armed H.Y.D.R.A. agents stormed in, rifles raised, eyes locked on target.

So much for the diversion. Clearly, it hadn’t been enough—or worse, H.Y.D.R.A. had seen through it. They must’ve realised it wasn’t a full-blown William-the-Conqueror-style invasion, just a cleverly dressed-up distraction.

“Company,” Bucky muttered, pulling his sidearm in one smooth motion.

You were already moving, instincts kicking in before your brain could catch up. You dove low, sliding across the slick concrete floor as a hail of bullets tore through the room. You grabbed the nearest overturned chair, dragging it into place just in time as metal pinged and sparked against it.

Bucky didn’t hesitate. A single, precise shot rang out, dropping the first H.Y.D.R.A. agent without a flinch. You didn’t stop to think. You surged forward, catching the second agent by surprise, your knee slamming into his gut with enough force to knock the air from his lungs. He doubled over, right into the crack of your gun butt across his temple. He crumpled, unconscious, before he hit the floor.

Then you saw the third.

Rifle up.

Aimed right at you.

“Get down!”

The shout was raw, sharp enough to slice through the chaos. You barely had time to turn your head before a body crashed into yours. His arm slammed into your torso, hurling you sideways just as the trigger was pulled.

The shot cracked like thunder.

Your back hit the ground hard, skidding across the floor. Pain flared along your shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the sound that followed, the harsh, guttural grunt that tore out of Bucky’s throat.

You twisted around.

He was down, gasping, clutching at his side and blood already soaking through the black fabric of his suit.

You scrambled back to him just as the final agent aimed again. Snarling, you fired three quick shots into the bastard’s chest before he collapsed in a heap.

The air went still for only a moment, then the ground trembled violently before you had a chance to assess the damage done to Bucky. Chunks of the ceiling cracked and began to rain down. Concrete groaned like a beast waking from a long sleep.

You turned to the computer, some unreadable symbols flashing across the screen, but you were quick enough to decipher that it meant the download was complete. Snatching the flash drive, you spun back to Bucky, who was trying to sit up, blood spilling between his fingers as he pressed them hard against the wound in his side.

“Get up,” you barked, crouching beside him. “We need to move, Barnes!”

—

The two of you had spent nearly two damn hours stumbling through the snow-blanketed mountainside, following the rough coordinates burned into your mind from the mission briefing. By the time the cabin finally came into view—half-buried in the snow, smoke long gone from the chimney—you were soaked to the bone and one more smart comment away from throttling him.

The escape had been messy, the H.Y.D.R.A base nearly becoming your tomb. You’d been forced to bolt through a collapsing back corridor, dragging the injured super soldier along with the last of your adrenaline. Between the debris, the gunfire, and the growing dark stain across his side, you weren’t sure how either of you had made it out. Worse still, you’d missed the quinjet extraction window by twenty minutes. The skies had turned black with storm clouds, wind howling across the range as ice and snow stung your cheeks. The base had finally picked up your call for aid on the mission-assigned satellite phone, but due to zero visibility and increased H.Y.D.R.A activity in the area, the replacement quinjet wouldn’t arrive until first light.

Which meant you were stuck together. In the cold. For the whole night.

The safehouse, at least, was still intact. A small timber cabin tucked between trees, barely standing but just enough. It had a lounge no bigger than a broom closet, a wood-burning stove long dead and cold, a bathroom you prayed had running water, and a single bedroom with a mattress that looked like it had seen better decades.

Your breath misted in the air as you slammed the door behind you, the wind nearly ripping the handle from your grip. Bucky collapsed onto the torn couch by the stove without a word, letting out a low groan that he probably thought you didn’t hear.

You should’ve made starting the fire your first priority. But one look at the blood soaking through Bucky’s side made that choice for you.

Now, kneeling between his legs with the remnants of the first-aid kit splayed out on the coffee table, whoever had been here last hadn’t restocked it properly. You glared up at Bucky as he shifted under your touch again. “Stop squirming.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you hissed, dabbing antiseptic across the wound with a gauze pad. “You keep flinching.”

“Because you’re digging in like you’re trying to punish me.”

“Oh, I haven’t even started,” you muttered.

He scoffed, muscles twitching beneath your hands as you pressed down. “Are you always this demanding?”

“Are you always this whiny?”

His glare was instant, eyes narrowed. “Is it your goal to piss everyone off?”

“I’m a fucking delight, and you know that.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “I think you’re mistaken. I definitely don’t like you.”

You lifted your brows, trying to keep your voice light despite the roiling mix of emotions spilling out. “You say that like you didn’t just take a bullet for me.”

You hadn’t even had the time to process it when it happened. The crash of his body slamming into yours, the sound of the gunshot, and the sickening thud of him hitting the ground. But now, with him sitting across from you, shirt dark with blood and a fresh gash still weeping crimson, the weight of it began to settle in.

He took a bullet for you.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Part of you expected him to twist it somehow, to throw it back in your face as some kind of lesson that you were careless. That you’d left an opening. That he had to clean up your mess. You were already bracing for it, the sting of snide remarks spread over weeks like salt in a wound, little digs during training about how you ‘owe him one’ or how ‘distractions get people killed’.

And yet... he hadn’t said any of that.

Instead, he just shrugged, wincing slightly. “I heal faster because of the serum,” he muttered, voice gruff but quieter than usual. “I’ll be back on the field faster than you ever could.”

You stared at him.

At the stubborn line of his jaw, the tight press of his lips as he tried not to show how much pain he was in. The way his hand gripped his side was too tight. The blood beneath his fingernails.

Why had he done that?

You weren’t always the easiest to get along with. You’d spent months pushing each other’s buttons, arguing, fighting, constantly locked in a cold war of insults and bruises. So why? Why would he throw himself into a bullet’s path for you?

It was hard not to feel... something. Flattered, maybe. A little shocked. And, against your better judgment, grateful. You didn’t want to be grateful—not to him, of all people—but your stomach wrenched every time you replayed the moment in your head.

You didn’t ask him to do it. And yet, he did.

And now he was pretending it didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t made a split-second decision to put your life before his own. What if that bullet had hit a little higher? His heart? His throat? His skull?

“Sure,” you drawled, trying to cover for your sudden silence. “Great excuse.”

“It’s the truth.” He muttered. 

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing.

Which, somehow, said everything.

You stared at him for a moment longer, shaking your head as you tossed the bloodied gauze into the small bin beside the couch. The cold was starting to settle into your bones, your fingers stiff with it.

“Whatever. I’m going to try to find some firewood before we freeze to death.”

He glanced toward the boarded-up window, ice clinging to the edges. “You sure there’s any left out there?”

“Nope.” You pulled on your jacket. “But I’d rather get eaten by a bear than stay in here with you.”

You were halfway to the door before you paused, glancing over your shoulder.

“Can you get to that bed yourself, or do you need me to do that for you, too, super soldier?”

His answer came quickly, teeth clenched. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

You couldn’t deny the nausea in your stomach. Not from worry. Definitely not that. Just frustration. That’s all it was.

The wind nearly ripped the door from your hands as you stepped outside. Snow came in sideways, biting at your skin the second you crossed the threshold. You tugged your jacket tighter and trudged into the blizzard, squinting against the blur of white.

The woodshed was exactly where the briefing had said it’d be, about ten feet from the side of the cabin, half-hidden by trees. Or at least, had been. What you found instead was a crooked mess of collapsed timber and broken beams. Snow had settled deep into the heap, and every piece of wood you managed to drag free was soaked, the logs heavy with ice and rot.

You swore, breath clouding in the air.

You searched anyway, fingers numb, arms shaking. You tried the back of the cabin. Nothing. Even the branches scattered beneath the trees were too damp. No kindling, no dry bark, not even a damn pinecone. The cold was sinking deeper now, crawling down your spine and settling like an anchor in your chest. You didn’t want to push further into the wilderness, not in this weather and not with H.Y.D.R.A. agents crawling all over the mountainside. 

By the time you stumbled back inside and forced the door closed again, you could hardly feel your fingers or toes. Every limb ached like they were five seconds away from turning purple and black from frostbite. The cabin felt just as cold as the outside, but it was a momentary relief to be out of the wind that cut through your thick layers.

Bucky was on the bed, half-sitting up against the wall, the blanket pulled low across his hips. His eyes flicked up as you entered, taking in your dripping hair and shaking hands.

"Let me guess," he muttered. "No luck?"

You didn’t answer right away, just peeled your jacket off and dropped it near the door with a wet splat. “Everything’s soaked. The shed’s collapsed.”

He exhaled through his nose, chest deflating with the effort. “You’re freezing.”

You ignored him, stomping the snow off your boots. “I’ll live.”

“Not if you keep acting like a damn idiot.”

You turned to glare at him. “I’m sorry, which one of us got shot again?”

You crouched down, your knees protesting as you bent to untie your boots, but your fingers were too stiff, trembling from the cold. The laces had frozen slightly, the knots tight and uncooperative. You hissed through your teeth, fumbling and cursing under your breath as you tugged uselessly at them.

Bucky watched from the bed, arms crossed over his broad chest. He didn’t move to help, but you could feel his eyes on you. He tilted his head slightly and gave you a look that was half-concerned, half-exasperated, like you did this to yourself.

With a final frustrated yank, you freed your boot and kicked it off, followed quickly by the other. A damp string of muttered profanities trailed from your lips as you scrambled back to your feet, wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to your skin. 

“Which one of us,” Bucky spoke pointedly, breath fogging in the air between you, “went outside to play in a blizzard and came back looking like a drowned rat?”

You were shivering now, teeth on the verge of chattering, but you still squared your shoulders and stared him down, as defiant as ever. A bead of melted snow trailed down your temple. He stared right back.

“Get over here,” he said finally.

“Excuse me?”

“You need to warm up.” His tone was flat, too practical. “And the bed’s the only warm place in this shithole.”

“Oh, now you care about my well-being?”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Just lifted the edge of the blanket.

You hesitated, eyeing the small mattress like it might bite you. "You’re the worst."

"And you’re still standing in wet clothes. Take them off and get in."

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“Not all of them,” he said, eyes rolling. “Just the top layer before you die of hypothermia. Stop being dramatic.”

With a theatrical sigh for good measure, you peeled off your wet sweater, leaving the thermal shirt beneath and then your pants. You did not check to see if he was watching you shivering in your underwear, cheeks flushed. You padded toward the bed like it was a walk to your own execution, hesitating again at the edge.

You tried—really tried—not to let your eyes linger on the broad plane of his chest, but it was impossible not to. His shirt was rumpled and half-untucked, the hem tugged up where he’d peeled it back to expose the bandage on his side. The white gauze was already marred with deep red, blooming in uneven patches that made you pause with something halfway between guilt and concern. Your gaze drifted to the sharp curve of his waist, the ridge of muscle visible beneath the bloodied wrappings. 

It was distracting. 

He was distracting.

But what you tried hardest not to think about was the bed. Specifically, how absurdly small the mattress looked with him sitting on it, shoulders nearly brushing both edges. There was no way you’d both fit. You’d be pressed against him. Shoulder to shoulder, chest to back, knee to thigh. 

You swallowed hard and told yourself not to think about it.

But you were already thinking about it.

“Don’t make it weird,” Bucky muttered.

“I’m not making it weird.”

He let out a low, tired huff, the kind that told you he was in pain but too stubborn to say it. You rolled your eyes in reply, more at yourself than him, and climbed in carefully, slipping beneath the blanket with a reluctant shiver. The bed was warmer than expected. Or rather, he was. Bucky radiated heat like a furnace, the kind that seeped into your skin and made your limbs relax before your mind could catch up. You hovered near the edge of the mattress, body stiff, spine straight like it might help you keep your distance. But it was a hopeless attempt. The bed was tiny—criminally small, really—and with him taking up so much space, there was nowhere to go but closer. One wrong move and you’d be on the floor.

“God, you’re warm,” you muttered into the pillow, trying not to sound too affected.

“Serum,” he replied shortly, his voice rough with exhaustion.

Slowly, inch by inch, you gave in. The chill in the air made it too easy to justify. You shifted toward him, the blanket tugging between you as your arm brushed against his. Then your hip. Then your thigh. Until, somehow, your bodies were nearly flush. 

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t say a word.

And that somehow made it worse.

The silence settled between you, heavy and warm and intimate, like the air itself had thickened. You could hear his breathing, steady, but a little too deliberate. You could see his chest rise and fall from the corner of your eye. And worse, you could feel him. Every inch of him. The solid line of muscle at your side. The way your knees had somehow locked together under the blanket. How your forearm grazed his with every breath you took.

You needed a distraction. Desperately.

Reaching over to the nightstand, you snatched up the battered satellite phone, almost too quickly. The cold metal was jarring against your palm. For a moment, you considered activating the self-destruct protocol and blowing both of you up to end your shared misery. You flicked it on, the screen’s pale light casting long shadows across the room and across him.

Your eyes flicked over before you could stop them.

He was already staring at the ceiling, the faint furrow between his brows still present even in rest. His profile was defined in the low light, long lashes, strong nose, and the stubble on his jaw catching just a hint of light.

You forced yourself to look back at the tiny screen to check for any new updates.

Nothing. You were well and truly in for the night.

You scrolled to the mission briefing instead, flicking through the files to pass time, anything to distract you.

And then you saw it.

There, buried under the pre-mission notes, weather expectations, and extraction protocol, was a small addendum in the personnel request section.

Operation HARVEST: Agent Barnes, James B.Requested field partner: Agent 00149. Request approved.

You stared at it, the room suddenly quieter than it had been all night. 

That was your agent number.

He asked for you.

The same man who had spent the last six months grunting his way through every interaction, who seemed perpetually annoyed by your existence, who had made a point never to give you more than an ounce of credit, had explicitly asked to be paired with you.

You felt your throat tighten.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, as if he could sense your world shattering around you. His voice was low, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion 

You didn’t answer right away. You sat there, still curled under the heavy covers. The warmth of his body was helping, yes—but your blood was starting to simmer for a very different reason.

You turned slowly, holding the satellite phone up between your fingers.

“You want to tell me why it says on the briefing notes that you requested me as your partner for this mission?”

Bucky blinked once. His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out.

“I asked you on the quinjet if you knew anything,” you went on, voice harsh now. “You told me it was a higher-up’s decision. You lied to my face.”

Bucky sighed through his nose, already bracing himself as he sat up straighter against the headboard. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Didn’t matter?” you scoffed, pushing yourself to your knees to face him, ignoring the goosebumps that rose as the blankets fell from your shoulders. “You picked me. You had me assigned to a mission with you, just the two of us, didn’t tell me, and then lied about it.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“You did lie.”

He dragged a hand down his face, slow and weary, but there was tension in the movement, an edge of frustration barely restrained. “I didn’t want you partnered with the other guys, alright?”

You faltered, unsure if you heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“No, you can’t just say that and not explain—”

“Fine!” He groaned, exasperated. His eyes dropped away from yours, fixing instead on a knot in the cabin’s dark wood wall. “I heard them talking. Theo and a few of the other agents.”

“What?” you asked, voice tight. “What were they saying about me?”

He didn’t answer. The silence stretched, heavy and awful.

“Just say it,” you bit out.

He looked at you then. Really looked at you. And it hit you square in the chest, something dark and protective burning behind his eyes. But it was reluctant, too, as if he hated that he was about to say it out loud.

His voice was low and rough when it came. “That you’re easy. That it’d be simple to get you into bed because you’re always asking for it. That you’re a slut. I gave them a piece of my mind and reported them, but I still don’t want you around them.”

You felt it like a punch to the gut.

Your breath caught, the sting behind your eyes immediate and hot. You blinked once. Twice. The words echoed, raw and ugly, and for a second, all you could do was try not to let them settle too deep. Not to let them stick.

You weren’t naïve. You knew you didn’t sleep around any more than anyone else your age. You knew that if the situation were flipped, if you were a man, no one would bat an eye. And still, the weight of it settled heavy in your gut, all twisted up with something darker. Dread. Shame. Fury. And under it all… that sick, crawling feeling that maybe Bucky had said something. Given them reason to think they could say it. That maybe he thought the same thing deep down.

That, maybe, to him, you were just some mess he had to clean up.

The words came fast, your voice shaking. “And what, you thought you’d ride in and defend me like some white knight? You know I could easily drop Theo, I could easily drop any of those assholes!” Bucky blinked, caught off guard, but you were already going, bitter heat rising in your throat like bile.

“You thought that would make it better?” you snapped. “You think that helps? They’re probably all laughing behind my back about how I can’t defend myself—”

“I wasn’t going to stand there and let them talk about you like that!”

“Why?” you demanded. “Because you didn’t want to hear it? Or because you’ve thought the same fucking thing?”

His eyes flared with disbelief, maybe even insult.

“I would never think of you that way,” he barked, and his voice cracked like thunder. “Let alone say it out loud. Because I’m not an asshole. Not like those guys you date.”

You laughed, blunt and hollow. “Why do you care who I date?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t come up with any words, but to your surprise, he exploded before you. “Maybe because you deserve better!” he shouted, the words ripping out of him before he could take them back.

The silence after that was suffocating.

You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest, a strange cocktail of feelings in your stomach that you didn’t care to identify. He sat there, breathing hard, his hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust himself to speak again.

“Jesus,” you muttered. You weren’t foolish enough to believe him, to fall victim to whatever joke he was trying to play. “Give me a break.”

“I’m serious,” he mumbled this time. 

You turned your face away. “Oh yeah? Like you could do any better? Don’t be ridiculous.”

His breath hitched, like you’d slapped him. You could feel him shift beside you under the covers.

“You really think that?” Bucky asked in disbelief.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. But Bucky didn’t let it stay quiet.

“You want to know the truth?” he asked, voice low and rough, as if the words had been caged for too long in his throat. “Fine.”

You turned back toward him, uncertain what expression you were even wearing anymore.

“I’ve liked you since the first damn time I saw you,” he said. “Group training. You were paired with some agent twice your size, and you still knocked him on his ass.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

“I thought you were… brilliant. And sharp. And confident. And yeah, beautiful too. You had this way of looking right through people—through me—and it scared the shit out of me. When they assigned me to mentor you, I panicked,” he said, with a dry, bitter laugh. “I thought if I pretended, if I was distant, if I acted cold, I could make it go away. Trick myself out of it.”

“But it just got worse,” he went on. “Every time I saw you smiling at some sleaze who didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, every time I had to watch you flirt with some smug asshole agents, I wanted to break something. Because it should’ve been me.”

You shook your head slowly, stunned. “Bucky…”

“I hated watching you get your heart broken over and over again,” he said. “Hated seeing you walk into training after pretending like nothing happened. You didn’t deserve that. Not when I knew I could treat you better if I just had the fucking guts to say something.”

Your ribs felt suddenly too small for your body, bones pressing into your lungs.

“And now we’re stuck on a mountainside,” he said, his voice softer, hoarser, “and I’m here bleeding in a bed with you, still lying to you, still trying to act like it doesn’t kill me every time you look at me like I’m just your mentor who you hate.”

You gaped in stunned silence, heartbeat pounding in your ears. Bucky watched you expectantly.

No. No, that couldn’t be what he meant. Not really.

“I don’t know what kind of cruel joke you’re playing on me,” you finally said, voice shaking, fingers knotted in the sheets. “I don’t get it. You’ve spent this whole time being…”

“I’m being serious,” he said, eyes locked on you. “I don’t expect you to believe me. I’ve fucked this up too many times. But I swear on my life, I’m not playing a game.”

You stared at him, blinking hard. “So what, this entire time you’ve been an asshole because you were what, pretending? Pretending that you didn’t like me, pretending that you weren’t jealous, when you could’ve just talked to me?”

His silence was immediate. Heavy. It told you everything you needed to know.

Your chest rose and fell too fast. Your mind was spinning, flipping through every memory like a film reel: his cold shoulder, his clipped instructions, the scowls when you joked with someone else, the way he always hovered a few steps too close in combat zones. The way he always caught you when you fell. There had been moments. Tiny fractures in his mask. The way his gaze lingered when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The time he bandaged your hand without a word, but so gently it had made your throat tighten. The night you caught him staring at you across the gym like he was in pain.

How had you missed it?

“I need to…” You whispered, slumping back under the sheets, pulling the blanket higher around yourself as if it might guard you from the ache in your ribs. “We should sleep. It’s late. Evac’s coming once the sun is up.”

He didn’t protest. He just nodded once, jaw tight.

Neither of you said another word.

Sleep didn’t come easily.

—

You hadn’t seen much of Bucky since you were both airlifted off the mountain.

He’d been recovering from his wound, officially. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out he was avoiding you. No texts. No nods in the hallway. No eye contact across the cafeteria. Just cold silence.

Coward.

You’d spent the past week half-waiting for him to come to his senses. The other half had been consumed wondering what the hell you’d do if he did. Because yes, you found him infuriating. Yes, he was emotionally constipated and moody and had the charm of a brick wall. But he was also gorgeous in that tortured-soul, sharp-jawed, arms-too-big-for-his-shirts kind of way. He cared about you, in his own twisted Bucky way. He’d taken a bullet for you. Defended you. Chose you.

And now he was just… gone.

You were leaning against the wall at the edge of the main gym, arms crossed, purposefully not looking at Theo and the other assholes you had suspected Bucky had been right about, when you heard footsteps and someone cleared their throat beside you.

Yelena stood beside you, her smirk suspiciously wider than usual.

You turned, brows knitting in apprehension. “Hey.”

“Congratulations,” 

“For what?” You replied hesitantly, watching as her brows lifted in delighted surprise. 

“You haven’t heard?” Her voice was alarmingly gleeful, like she was especially thrilled to be the bearer of whatever news she was about to lay upon you. “Barnes finally accepted your mentor transfer request.”

Your heart flatlined for a second. 

“What?”

Yelena, oblivious to your distress, continued to dig further. “I don’t know what you did to him up on that mountain, but… damn. I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

“I didn’t ask for a mentor transfer,” you muttered, dread settling in your chest.

Yelena’s expression faltered. “Oh. Well, you have one now. You’re with Thor. They tried to pawn you off onto me, but you know, got my hands busy with the new group coming in—”

“Thor?!” You snapped, interrupting her spiel, “He’s a drunk! And he’s not even here half the time, too busy in Asgard—”

Yelena gave you a helpless shrug, and that’s when the doors to the gym opened and in walked the ghost of your week-long frustration.

Bucky was in full training gear, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, compression shirt clinging to him like a second skin. His hair was ruffled, pushed back half-heartedly like he couldn’t be bothered to fix it, a few strands falling into his eyes. The corded muscles of his arms were on full display, the glint of his vibranium arm catching the light with every step. He looked unfairly good, carved from grief and sleepless nights. But it was the way he wouldn’t look at you that struck harder than anything else. His jaw was tight, lips set in a permanent pout, that brooding scowl etched so deep it felt deliberate. He looked everywhere but at you, like you weren’t even there. 

Your blood boiled.

Without a word, you peeled yourself from the wall and marched toward him. He spotted you mid-stride, his posture tensing like he was preparing for impact.

“Hey—” he started.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped, voice low and venom-laced.

“Not here,” he muttered, eyes flicking toward the other agents filtering in behind you. A few of them had already glanced over curiously, settling in for whatever show was about to unfold.

“Too late,” you hissed. “You requested a mentor transfer for me without even telling me?”

“I thought it was what you wanted.” You both knew he was lying, and he refused to meet your eye. This wasn’t about what you wanted. It was about him feeling embarrassed after his outburst on the mountain. 

“Oh, really?” You stepped closer. “Because I don’t remember asking you to make my career decisions for me.”

“I was doing you a favour.”

“Yeah? Maybe try talking to me like a normal fucking person, and then I’ll tell you what I want.”

His eyes flickered up, stormy blues locking onto your face. “And what is it you want?”

You stared him down, tilting your head slightly, weighing the war going on inside you.

You.

I want you.

The thought was immediate, impulsive, and so painfully real it made your chest ache. But you shoved it down, crushed it before it could breathe. No. That was stupid. Why the hell would you want him—this man-child who’d ghosted you for a week, who’d spent the last six months acting like every word out of your mouth was a personal offence, who seemed to find joy in making you feel like nothing?

But then again… maybe you both had been trying so hard to deny the truth, burying something under six months of thinly veiled insults and sparring matches that got too rough. Maybe he was pushing you away because he didn’t trust himself to keep it professional. And maybe you were just as bad, biting back, rising to the bait, pretending you didn’t notice the way his eyes lingered or the way his voice softened when you were actually hurt.

You had to know if it was real.

The shuffle of movement and muffled chatter around you signalled the start of group training, slicing through your heated stand-off. Agents around you began to pair off, leaving you and Bucky still locked in place, face to face, breath mingling.

You lifted your chin. “Be my sparring partner?” you asked, voice loud enough for the others to hear, but eyes fixed solely on him.

He didn’t argue. Didn’t flinch. Just nodded once, tight-lipped, like he’d been waiting for the invitation all along.

You squared off on the mat, bouncing on your toes, adrenaline already coiling in your veins. Bucky moved like a soldier, controlled, fluid, annoyingly graceful.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he muttered as you circled.

“I’m not,” you said, “Just testing a theory.”

He raised a brow. “What theory?”

You lunged, caught his arm, and twisted into a low grapple—just enough to draw him in.

His chest brushed yours. His breath hitched.

Then you kissed him.

Hard.

Your lips crashed against his mid-motion, stealing the next move right off his tongue. You felt him freeze, just for a heartbeat, before his hands twitched at your waist like he didn’t know whether to shove you away or pull you in. You felt the tension roll off him in waves. The way his body reacted was instinct. Shock. Hunger. 

His movements hesitated, and to your delight, despite the entire gym watching, he began to kiss you back. 

And that hesitation?

It was all you needed.

You shifted fast, breaking the kiss, then ducking low, hooking your leg behind his knee as you spun. In one fluid motion, you swept his legs out from under him and used the twist of your momentum to pull him down with you. He stumbled, off-balance, and you moved like lightning, hips snapping around his waist, thighs locking tight. You rotated with the drop, forcing him onto his back as you rolled with the momentum.

He hit the mat hard.

You were straddling him, thighs clamped around his ribs, palms flat on his chest. You smirked down at him, panting. 

Bucky stared up at you, winded, stunned, and very, very pinned. “That was dirty.”

You leaned down, your face just inches from his again. “So was your little mentor stunt. Call it even.”

Throughout the room, the entire gym was dead silent, staring. You gracefully dismounted him and marched off the mat, but Bucky scrambled up and followed you.

“Oh, now you want to talk?” you snapped as he caught up beside you.

“You can’t just kiss me and then walk away like that!”

“Why not?”

“You kissed me to mess with me.”

“I kissed you to see if you meant what you said on the mountain.”

The two of you burst through the gym doors and into the hallway. You didn’t look back. You didn’t have to. Bucky’s heavy footsteps were right behind you, his presence unmistakable, all coiled frustration and breathless anger.

A few agents stood frozen near the water station, others lingering by the mission board, all of them caught mid-conversation as they turned to witness the fallout. You were aware of the eyes on you, the awkward silence that followed, but you didn’t care. Let them stare. Let them gossip.

You stormed past them without pause as Bucky chased you like a dog on a leash that was just about to snap.

“You just kissed me in the middle of sparring,” he shouted after you, voice ragged and accusing. “In front of everyone. Is this a joke to you?” 

You didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. The elevator was too slow, too exposed. Instead, you veered to the stairwell and shoved the door open with enough force that it bounced off the wall. The clanging echo followed you as you started up, two steps at a time.

“Oh my god, would you just shut up already?” you snapped over your shoulder, breath catching as your hand slid along the metal railing, spiralling up the concrete stairwell. 

Behind you, Bucky cursed under his breath. “It was unfair.”

He reached for you and just missed your wrist. You yanked it away before he could try again, your skin buzzing with the ghost of contact.

“Isn’t that what you taught me to do? Use anything to my advantage?” you bit out, pushing through the next door as you reached your floor. The hall here was quieter and dimmer. You passed rows of familiar doors. Your apartment was at the end of the corridor, and every step toward it made your pulse throb louder in your ears. “What, you have a problem with me using my assets against you?

“Assets, huh? You know, you really are unbelievable—”

You let out an exasperated groan, cutting him back. “You kissed me back.”

That stopped him.

His boots scraped the floor as he slowed a few paces behind you, chest heaving, eyes wide with shock.

“What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your key in the door. The metal clicked, and you pushed it open with a little more care this time.

“You kissed me back,” you repeated softly, almost to yourself this time and stepped inside. 

Bucky barged in after you.

“You don’t understand—I’m… I’m trying to protect you!” His voice followed you into the room, desperate. 

You kicked off your shoes without looking at him. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Would you just listen for once—” he snapped, shutting the door behind him. 

You rolled your eyes and started pulling off your shirt, tossing it onto your bed and turned to face him, arms crossed. “I am listening, you’re the one not listening to me.”

Bucky stood just inside the door, like he hadn’t decided whether to walk out or burn the whole damn building down. 

“I shouldn’t have told you that on the mountain, it was unprofessional of me.” His voice cracked as his words poured out faster than it seemed he could stop them, emotion thick in every syllable. “I requested the mentor switch because I don’t trust myself to keep pretending. I can’t control myself around you!”

You padded barefoot across the room to the small bathroom.

“How am I supposed to go on training you?” He muttered, gesturing vaguely in your direction. He was repeating himself now, rambling like a crazed man completely oblivious to your actions. “You pull that stunt in the middle of training, humiliate both of us in front of the others, and then act like it meant nothing? Jesus, I can’t even think straight when you—”

You peeled your leggings off and let it fall to the floor behind you.

“—and don’t even get me started on that assets comment! What the hell does that even mean? You can’t just go around weaponising your—”

You unclasped your bra and bent to turn on the shower. The hiss of water filled the room, steam already curling up the mirror.

“—I mean, are you even hearing yourself? You just, what? Decided to tackle and kiss me like it was some kind of training tactic?! That’s not even…Are you using my confession against me? God, you’re impossible, I swear—”

He looked up.

And stopped.

Mid-sentence. Mid-breath.

There you were, back turned, steam catching on the bare curve of your spine and trailing over the lines of your thighs, standing in nothing but your underwear.

His words died in his throat like a car slamming into a wall.

Mouth slightly open. Eyes locked. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder, saw the exact moment it hit him and raised a brow, feigning casual curiosity as you stepped toward the open shower door, letting the foggy heat billow around your legs.

“You joining me?” you asked sweetly. “Sure sounds like you need to cool off.”

He said nothing.

Just stared.

Like you’d just knocked the wind out of him for the second time that day. Just that haunted, hungry look in his eyes like he was trying to figure out if he’d died and gone to hell. Or heaven.

His mouth opened, like he had something to say, some half-assed rebuttal, some snarky comeback.

But no words came out.

Only a low, helpless breath.

“I wasn’t using it against you.” You clarified as you dragged your underwear down your legs, tossing them somewhere across the room. “I was seeing if you meant what you said.”

You stepped nto the shower, leaving him stood stunned in the bathroom doorway. A soft sigh slipped from your lips as warm water poured down your shoulders and back, washing away the dull ache in your muscles. For a moment, you simply stood there, facing the stream, eyes closed, the patter of droplets against your scalp soothing like white noise in a storm.

Then came the soft rattle of the shower door behind you. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was him.

The subtle swish of movement was followed by the cool press of metal against your waist, his vibranium arm snaking around you, cool against the heat of the water and your flushed skin. Goosebumps prickled instantly across your stomach, nipples peaking at the contrast.

You turned slowly, steam swirling around you in thick waves as you met Bucky’s eyes. His wet hair was slicked against his neck, droplets clinging to the dark strands and sliding down his jawline. Beads of water traced the line of his throat and the rise of his Adam’s apple, disappearing over the muscle of his chest. His hands found your hips, warm and solid, the grip almost possessive.

You tried not to look down, tried not to let your eyes drift to the answer to a question you’d been too proud to ask. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you stepped into him, letting your palms slide up the hard planes of his chest, past his dogtags and looped around the back of his neck.

“I think this is going to do the opposite of cooling me down,” he muttered, voice husky, half-lost beneath the steady rhythm of water hitting tile.

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, and then you kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle.

Your mouths crashed together like you’d both been holding back for too long. Hungry. Desperate. Sloppy. The water only made it messier, lips sliding, catching, breath hissing as teeth grazed. He kissed like he needed to claim this moment before the world snapped back into place. You returned the kiss with equal urgency, fingers threading into his wet hair, tugging, needing more.

His hands slid down your back, firm, sure, guiding you until your spine pressed against the slick wall of the shower. You wrapped a leg around his hip, instinctive, needy, and he growled softly into your mouth as his hand dropped to support your thigh, holding you steady. You ground your hips into him, once, twice. His grip tightened, and the next thing you knew, he was lifting you, hands firm on your ass as he carried you effortlessly from the shower. The bathroom was thick with steam, fog curling along the edges of the mirror and dripping from the ceiling. Water trailed down both of you, soaking the tiles as he strode across the room.

Your back met the edge of the counter with a soft thud, followed by the chill of the fogged-up mirror behind you. The coolness shocked your skin and made your spine arch sharply, drawing a low noise from your throat. Bucky didn’t miss a beat. He was still kissing you, still swallowing your gasp as his hands ran down your thighs and urged them further apart.

He stepped in, slotting himself between your legs, his body flush against yours. The sensation of him made your head spin. Water from the still-running shower continued to hiss in the background, steam billowing out and filling the room like a cocoon. You were both soaked, skin slick and glistening, lips swollen, breaths short. Your fingers found the back of his neck again, anchoring yourself as he kissed you deeper, slower now, like he was savouring every second.

His hands slid down your hips and tugged you forward until your thighs bracketed his waist. You felt his cock, solid and insistent, pulsing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and your breath caught.

“I think I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He confessed between kisses, before consuming you again.

It took little resistance for him to push into you in one smooth motion. You weren’t just drenched from the shower. Your whole body sang from the shock of it, a strangled sound tearing from your throat as your fingers fisted in his wet hair. His mouth tore from yours with a ragged gasp, trailing down your jaw, your neck, leaving fire in his wake. Bucky braced a hand behind you on the counter, the other gripping your thigh, steadying you as his hips began to move precise and relentless.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he muttered into the curve of your neck, voice wrecked. His lips brushed against your pulse, the edge of his teeth grazing the skin like he was half a second from losing control. “How many nights I told myself I couldn’t touch you... shouldn’t want you, couldn’t have you.”

You let out a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a gasp as his hips snapped forward again. 

“Keep going,” you rasped, one hand clawing up the curve of his back, the other buried in his hair. “Don’t stop.”

His only reply was a low, broken groan against your skin, like he was coming apart just from the feel of you wrapped around him. You locked your ankles behind him and rocked your hips forward, drawing him deeper. A spark of pleasure flared up your spine, making your head fall back against the fogged-up mirror..

“I tried so fucking hard to keep my distance.” He chuckled low against your collarbone, though the sound was strained, caught between shallow pants and a raw groan of need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His vibranium hand slid between your bodies. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with gentle strokes, and your body jolted in response. An uncontrollable whimper left you as your thighs trembled around him.

“I’ve been dying to hear those sounds from you.” Bucky panted against your ear. 

You pressed closer to him, shaking legs tightening around his waist as you pursued his fingers. He chuckled at your poorly hidden desperation, chest vibrating from the sound. As his fingers swirled, cock pumping in and out, you felt your body clench involuntarily around him, drawing a moan from him. 

“Fuck, Bucky, ” you breathed, barely able to form the word as your pleasure surged, unrelenting and dizzying. “If I’d known this was what you were holding back, I would’ve pushed harder.”

Bucky’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming uneven and desperate, chasing the high he could feel coiling tighter in both of you. Your raw moans echoed around the small bathroom, rising above the hiss of the shower and the frantic beat of the slap of wet skin. Your climax broke over you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your entire body arched, legs trembling as you whimpered, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. Pleasure tore through you like lightning, leaving your nerves sparking in its wake.

With a guttural groan muffled against your neck, Bucky followed you over the edge. You felt him twitch inside you, warmth spreading as he spilt into you, his hips stuttering erratically as he buried himself as deep as he could go. His arms tightened around you, as though he needed to hold you close to keep himself grounded.

For a long, breathless moment, you stayed like that. Tangled together, trembling, the heat of the afterglow. The water still rained behind you, forgotten, as you both came down slowly, limbs heavy and slick with sweat and steam. Then, slowly, Bucky lifted his head to look at you. His hair was plastered to his forehead in wet strands, water trailing down the lines of his cheekbones and along his jaw. His eyes, dark and hungry, searched yours with a mix of dazed satisfaction and something else. A flicker of awe, maybe. Or disbelief.

You gave him a slow, wicked smirk and reached up to brush a dripping lock of hair off his brow, your fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

“I need you to pull that transfer request, by the way,” you murmured, voice low and rough with breath. “There is no way in hell I’m training with Thor.”

His lips twitched, a hoarse laugh escaping him, short and surprised. But the fire in his gaze didn’t fade. If anything, it darkened.

“I’ll pull it…” he said, voice thick with promise as his hands slid back down to your waist, “…when I’m done with you.”

From the way his fingers gripped your hips, you had a feeling that wouldn’t be anytime soon. 

---

hello! i no longer have a taglist because it got too long and was reaching the tag limit. if you want to be notified when i post please follow @artficlly-updates and turn on post notifications!

[1moreff-creator]

Happy Birthday Eden Tobisa!

Turns out our favorite clock girly has her birthday on New Year's Eve! What a nice date for such a nice girl! Let's do a character analysis, fun facts, and songs!

-We know relatively little about Eden's backstory. The most notable thing we know about her life before the killing game, apart from her fascination with clocks, is what is revealed in her chapter 2 secret: "Ever since you kissed her, you were afraid your sexuality would ruin your friendships." Which is pretty straightforward; she's canonically a lesbian and is worried it would negatively affect her friendships.

-Literally the only other thing we know about her backstory is that she lived in Japan for a small period of time when she was younger, before moving back to the US. This was revealed in a Q&A.

(... You know, I made a deranged theory in my Mai post that maybe the girl that Eden kissed was actually Mai. It wasn't very serious, since it was just a silly way to try to explain what the hell Eden's quote in the Mai page could mean. But... we know Teruko was in Japan for a while when she was younger, and it's theorized she knew Mai before being separated from her at some point. Combined with Mai's name being seemingly Japanese, it could imply Mai also lived in Japan at some point. And if that's the case, it's possible she met Eden there? To be clear, that's still an insane possibility, but I do find it a funny possibility, which is why I'm sharing it)

-Apart from that, Eden's defining trait is her optimism and her trust in others. She sticks to Teruko's side even after she starts pushing everyone away in CH 1, and confesses to her that she believes "not caring about others is the worst way to live." She's importantly not naive, she does know their situation is horrible, but still she constantly searches for an exit and tries to build good friendships with the others.

-This includes baking with Min, Rose and Teruko in CH1, inviting Teruko and Arei to make clocks on CH2, etc. Basically, she's awesome and nice and mature.

-Also she loves clocks. Regular Ultimate stuff, she can apparently spend hours and hours working and losing track of time.

-Although for such an optimistic character, her secret quote is quite ominous. "You can't go back, no matter how hard you try." We have zero clue what this means at the moment, but at least it does fit the symbolism of time always moving forward.

-Meanwhile, her quote in the Mai page is "She kept calling the number, even though no one picked it up." This is even more incomprehensible! Eden, what in the world are you talking about?

-Alright, David MV. She doesn't have a color in Color Theory, but her numeral is XII (twelve). Go to 1:48:28 in this video for an explanation. God it's so convenient to have that lol.

Alright fun facts!

-As stated, her birthday (December 31st) lands on New Year's Eve. Maybe representing new beginnings or change, which certainly goes well with her character. How nice!

-Like most of the cast, she's American and right-handed.

-She's one of the only characters with dyed hair. Her hair was originally just brown.

-Her favorite color is daffodil yellow, because it's happy, and her least favorite color is blue, because it's "kind of a downer color." Areden shippers in shambles.

-Her favorite ice cream flavor is honeycomb. I didn't even know that existed but go off queen.

-She enjoys cute fashion, but also enjoys wearing androgynous style clothing.

-She likes food which is fun to make or prepare. How nice!

-She's biracial; her mother is black and her father is Japanese. This is why she spent a bit of time in Japan when she was younger.

-Her name in kanji is 飛佐【とび ・ さ】楽【いーでん】. Gonna leave any actual meaning as homework, but it's worth noting her name was anglicized. I think that would translate to "Iden", but her mother liked the name "Eden", so they went with that instead.

Finally, songs that remind me of her!

-Positive Parade by DECO*27

-Gone Fishing by Ghost & Pals (friendship!)

-Aura by Ghost & Pals

-In Iolite by Ghost & Pals

-Magnet by minato

-Those Who Carried On by Ghost & Pals

-I'm Glad You're Evil Too by PinocchioP

And Happy Birthday! And a happy new year! Well wishes to all you Tumblr peeps. Take care!

[byler-4-life]

Haha holy shit. So, you guys know there's been some theorizing about how there's some weird time shit going on, and the time of 8:15 pm keeps potentially popping up as when weird shit happens to Will involving the Upside Down. Which made me "jokingly" say I was gonna go through and screenshot every episode at the 8 minute 15 second mark.

Well...since I was already messing around in episode one and looking around at other stuff, I decided to see what was at 8 mins 15 secs and...well...

How about the very vanishing of Will Byers himself.

[goldfish-or-smthing]

The Tedependent Masterpost

Essentially my deluded ramblings as to why I’m a Tedependent truther 😊

DISCLAIMER: I love TL and no matter what direction the writers take S3 in I will be on board! This is just a theory from some lil' details I noticed 😊Also so that if I turn out to be right I can say I told you so :o but if I’m wrong uhhhh.. you never saw this

Some various important notes before we get into it:

Firstly, I think it’s pretty likely that sexuality will come up in some form in S3. It fits in really well with the previous themes of the show (masculinity, mental health, relationships with fathers etc). TL has tackled some other issues such as the portrayal of mental health in sport but they haven’t mentioned sexuality yet despite it being a big topic (there’s only 1 out gay footballer… which is INSANE.. there’s a LOT of homophobia in football). So it makes a lot of sense for this to come up during S3. A lot of people have also theorized that Colin is gay and although I’m not going to go into that now I think it’s pretty likely and considering that Colin was one of Nate’s main “victims” (for want of a better word) it’s also likely that he’ll be more prominent in S3, perhaps even being a big part of Nate’s comeuppance. There’s also various rumours of Trent (and some say Colin too?) being seen filming at a gay nightclub in Amsterdam…

Here's an excerpt from an article interviewing Cristo Fernández, the actor who plays Dani Rojas, about the themes of season 3:

Interesting stuff....

In terms of whether or not Ted will have a romantic relationship in S3 I think it’s pretty likely through the “rom-communism” speech and how generally wholesome the show is that Ted will end up in a relationship at the end- especially as it would be very satisfying for Ted to start the show in a bad relationship and end it in a healthy one. Also the teaser dropping on Valentines is very…… interesting. Despite this it could be argued that Ted has to go through more personal growth before he’s ready to be in a long term relationship and with Ted most likely leaving for Kansas at the end of S3 he might not be in a good position to get into a new relationship. This is probably one of the biggest holes in this theory- whether Ted is ready for a relationship in S3. If he is though, I can think of someone who would be a very good option…

Before we talk about Trent though (yes there still is more to address) we need to address the other main option- Rebecca. I think it’s pretty unlikely that Ted will end up with Rebecca. Firstly it’s very cliché and the writers know that people expect Ted and Rebecca to end up together. They teased it in S2 before the Sam bantr reveal which felt to me like the writers saying that they know it’s what people expect but that they’re choosing not to go that direction. Speaking of Sam, although he and Rebecca technically ended S2 not together it’s very clear that that arc is not over yet and that’s still something that has to be dealt with in S3. Ted and Rebecca’s relationship is an incredibly valuable representation of close friendships/platonic relationships between men and women, and I think the writers understand this too:

To be clear, I don’t have any problem with people shipping Tedbecca! I actually think it can be quite a cute ship, I just don’t think it’s likely to happen in canon.

Now onto the fun bit! All the evidence!

I don’t think it’s in question that Trent is gay so I’m not really going to cover that here apart from saying that he leaves the pub with a man he’s seemingly on a date with an if you’re still not sold that he’s gay… just uh…. Just look at him..

First some quickfire evidence:

Ted calls Trent “baby”! s2 ep3 3 mins in! crazy stuff

S2 ep1 at about 6:20 Ted says “Trent Crimm, bringin’ that heat”- a reference to the very spicy Indian food they ate together

They speak more often than we see off-screen- we have the iconic “love our chats!” line implying that they have conversations outside of the show and Ted makes Trent’s daughter biscuits (s1 ep9 27:40), showing that he’s not only met Trent’s daughter before but is meeting her again soon to give her the biscuits

Slightly less quickfire evidence:

There’s a lot of similarities between Trent and Rebecca- this post details some of them, but there’s also similarities in lines- in s1 ep3 Ted says to Trent “watch your back Gay Talese there’s a new iconic profile about to be typed up by one Trent Crimm” then on s1 ep9 Ted says to Rebecca “watch your back Kate Moss there’s a new bad girl on the British modelling scene”. They also have very similar hair (look at the first two gifs of the above post), and the only two people Ted makes biscuits for on the show are Rebecca and Trent’s daughter. I believe this is a way of twisting the expectation that Rebecca and Ted are going to end up together to have Ted end up with someone similar, but not who people expect.

Some silly little scene analysis:

The first scene I’ll be talking about is s2, ep7, at about 31 minutes in. Before I go into depth about the details of this scene I’d suggest you rewatch it first, but I couldn’t find a clip of it on Youtube so just go to that timestamp. The first line in this scene is very strange- it’s Mae saying “If music be the food of love play on, give me excess of it”. This line seems completely pointless- it’s not really a joke, nor does it serve to further the plot or develop Mae’s character. But as I will repeat many times and cannot emphasise enough- lines in this show don’t get used lightly. This line is actually the opening line to Shakespeare’s most famous romantic comedy, Twelfth Night. And this line is used at the beginning of a scene with Ted and Trent when there’s seemingly NO REASON for it…. (I’m not going to get into the Shakespeare analysis now but if you want me to I will make a post about it :D)  We then see Trent saying goodbye to a man he’s on a date with- who has a moustache, no less. And THEN he says “of all the pub joints” which is a reference to the line “of all the gin joints” from the film Casablanca- and (mild spoilers for 3) the episode title of ep 8 is “We’ll never have Paris”, another reference to Casablanca. They end off this scene with Trent saying "Love our chats!". This line is reminiscent of when Ted asked Trent "What do you love?" in the Indian restaurant in s1 ep3, and also implies that they are closer than the show makes them seem.

Another very suspicious moment came at end of s2 ep12, which is the VERY LAST scene with Ted in the whole of S2. It’s also sandwiched in between the scenes about the other 2 major romantic relationships in the show- we get Sam and Rebecca, then Trent and Ted, then Roy and Keeley… Which in my opinion is a deliberate way of laying out these scenes to imply more about Trent and Ted’s relationship. Before I go on to talk about it here’s the clip for context: https://youtu.be/fF3A7XSk2HU (it’s pretty low quality so if you want to you can watch the clip at 44mins into s2 ep12). I think Trent waiting outside for Ted speaks for itself, but then there’s the line about the bike accident, where we learn that Trent doesn’t know how to ride a bike. Lines in this show are rarely used lightly and this is likely suggesting that we’ll get a scene of Trent learning how to ride a bike (potentially in Amsterdam?!). We then learn that Trent - and now I want you to listen closely on this part- has thrown away his entire career in journalism and his chance to ever work in journalism again by telling his boss that he revealed a source. And why did he do this? For Ted (...mostly. he has other reasons for leaving as well but...). Not only is this literally insane but by having Trent quit his job the writers have removed the only major barrier to Trent and Ted being in a relationship- whereas previously this might’ve been unethical because Trent was a journalist covering Richmond, that’s now no longer an issue. And then Trent has locked his keys in the car- which shows either how flustered he was when waiting to see Ted or could be implying that he’s here to stay.

Sorry for low quality but look at them. That is a normal way for two straight lads to look at another guy right?

Bits from some interviews:

Conclusion:

Some would say that I'm mad. I'd argue that if you look at the evidence there's a solid chance that Tedtrent could happen in Season 3- the sneaky little references to Casablanca and Shakespeare as well as literally the whole of their last scene together sold me the most tbh. It's hardly debatable that Trent has a crush on Ted, but I believe (hehe) that it could be reciprocal- there's not much evidence that Ted is bisexual, (references to queen and the frequent appearance of their songs as well as the choice of NSync's song "Bye bye bye" which is frequently used on the internet to mean "Bi bi bi") but then again, there's not much evidence that he's not. I feel like I could go on and I've definitely missed some things but this post is already far too long (1.6k words) and I need to stop!

I’d be interested to hear everyone’s thoughts and opinions, and feel free to drop a comment telling me how deluded I am because in all honestly I probably am…. Or am I………….. guess we’ll find out in season 3!

If I’ve missed anything please lmk!

EDIT: ohhh my god I forgot- The scene w/ Ted and Trent at the end of s2 happens in the Richmond car park- just like Roy and Keeley in s1. And Ted met Michelle in a car park :)

UPDATE

[4rainynite]

Infinity Train Headcanons

Just a bunch of Infinity Train headcanons I've come up with, I'm only doing five per character so it won't too long. I'm mainly gonna focus on the passenger characters and do the denizens later on. Majority of them have been posted on @infinity-train-headcanons already (awesome blog by the way), but whatever here we go:

Tulip

The reason Tulip loves onions so much is because when her mother was pregnant she craved onions a lot. Mrs. Olsen thinks onions are okay at best, but Tulip loves them.

Tulip is fairly athletic (that explains why she could do all those stunts on the train), but prefers gaming and coding. Her classmates that are on sports teams are greatly annoyed that she won't join.

Despite Lake being gone she can still take pictures of herself on cameras or through a selfie (and sometimes see herself in water), because those are images not reflections.

Tulip would so adopt a corgi and name him “Atticus the 2nd” and put miniature crowns on him.

When Tulip goes to Oshkosh she'll based her game on her adventures on the train. Not only will it be super popular, but some of the other campers and counselors will suggest some cars because some of them were passengers as well.

Lake

After, Lake left she accidently started a revolution in the Chrome Car. In the end (in a future fanfic of mine) there will be peace and Lake and a certain group of passengers will help.

Lake won't be able to start school immediately (due to Tulip being in middle school and Jesse being in high school) , but she is able to do homeschooling. Come next school year she'll be at school with Jesse

Lake lives in the Cosay's attic. They've tried to convince her/him/them (other pronouns) to take the guest room, but Lake's cool with it. Mainly, because she/he/they gets a view of the lake she/he/ they named themselves after.

Lake is super into art! It's mainly abstract and black, but she loves it! The problem is Jesse's parents have to buy the spray paint for her.

Lake loves traveling to new places and Jesse brings her/him/them along when the swim team travels to different places.

Jesse

After, the train Jesse decides to join theatre class/club. He mainly gets background or understudy parts, but he loves to sing.

Is a Chicken Choice Judy fan and gets Lake and Nate into them. Jesse and Lake theorize that Chicken Choice Judy were passengers at one point.

Jesse becomes closer with his swim team to be friends, he is currently co-captain.

Jesse really misses Alan Dracula, so, Lake got him one of those deer plushies as a gift. Jesse put glasses on it and named it Alan Dracula the Second and Cuddliest.

Jesse always picks vampire movies during movie night at the Cosay house. I believe he really likes vampires .

Grace

Grace's parents so would've sent her to boarding school after the shoplifting thing instead of just talking to her.

Grace will be the last former Apex member to leave the train due to her number still being high. In the meantime she still helps passengers lower their numbers.

There is no way Grace was the only person to form a cult on the Infinity Train. Grace's was just the longest surviving one of eight years, I won't explain why Grace's was the longest due to... cult stuff.

Grace rarely got to see her maternal grandparents, due to her mother wanting to reject her low-class upbringing. From what little memories she had, Grace misses them.

Grace regrets what she put Hazel through and wants her back, but she knows her leaving was for the best no matter how much it hurts.

Hazel

I don't know why but I see Hazel as a vegetarian.

When Tuba found her she was a baby, not a baby turtle, a baby- baby.

She and Amelia will be close, but will never have a true mother - daughter relationship. I know Amelia is trying to get better, but she admitted she's not a caretaker.

She'll sing Tuba's Lullaby to comfort herself in stressful situations and whenever she feels she'll forget her.

Hazel will be adopted by Ryan and Min-Gi when she gets off the train and Tulip, Lake, Jesse, and Nate will be like siblings to her. Okay, okay, okay, I know that's a very long shot, but Hazel deserves happiness!

Simon

Was a boy scout or took a survival class, I mean how else would he know about frostbite in Le Chat Chalet Car.

Probably went to way too many funerals as a child. I'm going by what he said to Hazel about neighbors brining casseroles.

Simon would get into fights with his teachers and classmates about being right about every little thing, even as a he was a narcissist.

Simon so had a crush on Grace way before their 'awkward middle school kiss' . After, Grace's betrayal whatever feelings he had were gone.

Was a fantasy nerd and wanted to be a fantasy writer. His trilogy book would've had his character based off himself being made a king.

Ryan

Ryan and his youngest brother are the only two in their family who wear glasses.

Is still on good terms with his ex-girlfriends (Disco Girl, Punk Girl, and Hippie Girl). Yeah, they broke up, but Ryan wasn't their worse ex and was nice to them. They love telling Min-Gi embarrassing dating stories.

He most likely had suicidal thoughts, once off the train he tells Min-Gi and gets help through therapy.

Despite not gaining attention during his solo gigs he did make a friend or two during his stops like the lesbian couple at the party in the Twin Tapes. Which helps spread Chicken Choice Judy's music.

Ryan is very strong despite his scrawny appearance, due to carrying equipment, changing tires, and other heavy lifting activities.

Min-Gi

Was diagnosed with dyslexia at an early age. His parents worried this would hamper him so they would hire a tutor after school when he wasn't playing with Ryan.

Is a really good cook, but his main specialties are Korean dishes (his mother taught him) and breakfast food (working at Dumpty's Diner).

Has an artistic side, but rarely used it except for the Chicken Choice Judy t-shirt. Later on he designs the covers for CCJ's CDs.

He most likely has a bunch of older cousins. I think Mr. and Mrs. Parks had Min-Gi late, so he's the baby of the cousins.

To me Min-Gi never shown in interest in dating or romance. His parents tried to set him up a few of their co-workers' daughters, but nothing ever happened afterwards. He does love Ryan though.

Amelia

I believe Amelia will get off the train, but when she does majority of her friends and family and friends will be gone and will return to the train.

Amelia will allow Hazel to play with the denizens while she works on the train. She may not be a caretaker, but she remembers being a child and children need to have fun.

I think Amelia was jealous of Min-Gi and Ryan, since the two remind her of Alrick and herself in their youth and what could've been if he lived. She dubs them 'Destiny Rubbish Duet'.

Amelia would monitor the Snow Car frequently to make sure One would never leave or any passengers interacted with him. But, the one time in thirty years she set her clock on the wrong time to wake up, allowing Tulip to find One-One.

The day Amelia picked out her wedding dress was the same day she got the news of Alrick's passing.

Well, that was a long post. I may do more in the future, so I'll just end it here.

[scripturiends]

law school episode 9 musings

warning: very very long post ahead. i have a lot of thoughts.

hey folks — how we feeling about episode 9?

given that there are so many plotlines in the show, i’m afraid i won’t be able to extend my analysis of the episode as far as i would like, but there are three characters who stood out to me the most last night that i’d like to talk about for now:

kang dan

there’s a lot that we got to uncover about her thanks to professor yang’s trial. if i’m piecing it all together right, the basic summary of what led to her disappearance goes like this:

she was a volunteer for assemblyman ko’s campaign, but upon discovering that he was spreading fake news about his opposition, dan reported him to the authorities (i’m guessing not just the police but also the media) and became a whistleblower. assemblyman ko tried to buy her off with money, but she refused, so he attacked her where she’s most vulnerable instead — by using her family.

i’m not completely sure about this (please feel free to correct me!) but it’s either byeol is (1) the twins’ half-sister, or (2) their stepsister? it’s so hard to tell, especially since korean terms can get lost in translation in the process (i watch on netflix, if that helps). but anyway, sol and dan’s mom married someone who was abusing her, and in exchange for dan’s silence (and her fleeing), the husband signs a contract that he would stop hurting his wife.

so that’s the backbone of dan’s story. however, this still doesn’t answer a lot of things, like where seo byungju or lee manho fits into the equation, the whereabouts of their mom’s ex-husband, or why dan was sent into boston in the first place.

i usually don’t like theorizing, but i do have one: there is an ivy league school located just outside of boston — harvard. (it’s technically in cambridge but you know, i’m taking liberties here.) professor yang said in passing one episode that he thought he saw dan when he went to the school for a seminar or a talk or something. could it be that assemblyman ko offered her an education at a top school in exchange for her silence? it could explain why she gave it up all so easily. what if she took that topnotch education as a chance to prepare, so that when she came back, she had much stronger leverage to take assemblyman ko down, given the knowledge and network of connections she’ll have earned in that school?

the theory’s plausible but i might be overestimating assemblyman ko’s kindness — unless he’s insanely desperate, he might not give a damn about dan’s education. it actually benefits him more if she stayed uninformed, but still. let me know what you think about it.

yoo seungjae

in this episode, we learned a little bit more about how yoo seungjae was able to hack into the professors’ laptops, and they also confirmed some of our previous speculations about him: that his wife yujeong was an ob gyn, and so was he, and that they were trying for a baby. unfortunately, i find it all to be a bit lacking in substance. i was hoping we could get down to the nitty-gritty of why he did what he did.

i say this for one important reason: i don’t know about you guys, but i would never make such a stupid mistake in undergrad, let alone in law school. seungjae has gone to med school, so we know that he knows the repercussions of his actions. why would he go to such lengths? sure, he found an opening, he was tempted, and he took it. but he didn’t just do it once, he did it multiple times, and those offenses add up (hacking, stealing exam papers, and cheating). surely he must know that something like this can ruin careers even before they even start, and not only would he get kicked out of the school, he would also get blacklisted from the industry once he implicates himself. so we understand why he’s so hesitant to testify (especially now that his wife is pregnant).

but why did he do that in the first place? we could say he’s insecure about his skills, but he’s survived med school. how much harder could law school be for him? i just don’t think that the payoff is worth the risk. what must be so important for yoo seungjae to do all of this for? what does he get in return if he successfully pulls it off and gets straight As during his entire time in law school? who is he doing for?

i hope it runs deeper than just wanting a ‘good future’ for him and his wife and their baby or something — because he could just as easily do that as a doctor. there must be another reason he went into law.

still, though, and this is just a personal opinion, even if i did find out his entire backstory, there’s no way i could ever defend him. we see in the show how his guilt builds up (from observing how kang sol A studies so well, to his conversation with jeon yeseul in the hospital), but at this point there is no more excusing what he did. not that i ever condoned it in the first place.

we’re still in the dark about a lot of things regarding yoo seungjae. hopefully by the next episode, we get something. but until then, he is still a shady, shady man to me.

kang sol B

her screen time in this episode was short, but i still wanted to highlight her because she is pretty much a ticking time bomb.

she’s in a tight spot right now because even if she testifies about having seen the sugar packet, the prosecutor will just twist the argument by saying she colluded with a murderer just to cover up her plagiarism.

and now, seo jiho needs her help, probably for something related to his case with prosecutor jin. in exchange, she puts pressure on him to ‘confirm’ that she didn’t plagiarize in middle school, since they were schoolmates and rivals.

there may be more to this plagiarism issue than meets the eye. who knows, we might find out later on that she actually didn’t plagiarize? but given what i know now, i have no reason to believe that she didn’t. i don’t blame her specifically for that, seeing as she has to pay for the consequences for something that her awful mom forced her to do. but now that the mess has been made, i want to see how she cleans it up.

kang sol B is a very elusive character to me. the scary thing about her is that she’s on no one’s side but her own. and that’s why i think she’s a ticking time bomb.

~

bonus: han joonhwi

so that’s all i have for the serious stuff. as a bonus, i’d like to talk about han joonhwi and his four (4) children jeon yeseul, seo jiho, kang byeol, and min bokgi.

one of my friends brought up how it’s so funny how he’s somehow just at the right place at the right time all the time. this happened when he ran into kang sol A when she was looking for yeseul (i still think they were on the phone with each other beforehand but this is just my shipper self talking — truthfully, if the focus was shifted towards that phone call without divulging who it was, i have a feeling it might be more important later on), and when seo jiho confronted prosecutor jin. adding his elevator conversation with kang sol B, i think it just solidified what we already know: han joonhwi is a very compassionate person. but he doesn’t sacrifice his own personality just to appease them — he recognizes that these individuals have agency, and he’s just giving them the little push they need to make them realize what they need to do.

i also felt the need to bring up kang byeol. the show does such a good job of ensuring that all the solhwi scenes that we get, no matter how indulgent and “fanservice-y” they might seem, actually have a deeper purpose. again, i could go on and on about what each solhwi scene has actually contributed to the development of the plot, which is exactly why i love them so much! because all of their scenes are so meaningful. but anyway, it’s nice to see han joonhwi care so much for his, ehem, future sister-in-law.

and for min bokgi — this scene was so short, but i absolutely loved it so much (i tend to pay attention to the throwaway scenes): min bokgi is going off about how yoo seungjae is acting weird, and he says to joonhwi, “hyung, you should call him.” and joonhwi responds with, “sure. eat your food.” it’s such a fatherly thing to do and it’s such a great contrast to bokgi’s dynamic with sol A, with whom he’s so loud and vibrant, moods that both match their personalities, but with joonhwi, who is more subdued, he’s like a little kid in need of rescue from an older brother, or even a dad. ah, i love it so much. min bokgi is such an underrated character. i wish he had more screen time. (if he doesn’t get a central ep, well, you guys know where i’m going with this, right? it means i’ll give it to him myself.)

~

so that’s it for now! i’m sorry i went on rambling again, but if there’s anything noteworthy in this post that you think is worth discussing, please do tell! if there’s anything that you found thought-provoking in the episode that i didn’t get to touch up on, let me know as well!

i personally don’t make any theories about the overarching plot myself, seeing as by the time the new episode comes out, we get fed information that renders the theory useless. still, that doesn’t mean we should stop coming up with our own ideas. sometimes, the theories are more interesting than the canon itself.