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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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“If buying isn’t owning, piracy isn’t stealing”

20 years ago, I got in a (friendly) public spat with Chris Anderson, who was then the editor in chief of Wired. I'd publicly noted my disappointment with glowing Wired reviews of DRM-encumbered digital devices, prompting Anderson to call me unrealistic for expecting the magazine to condemn gadgets for their DRM:

https://longtail.typepad.com/the_long_tail/2004/12/is_drm_evil.html

I replied in public, telling him that he'd misunderstood. This wasn't an issue of ideological purity – it was about good reviewing practice. Wired was telling readers to buy a product because it had features x, y and z, but at any time in the future, without warning, without recourse, the vendor could switch off any of those features:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wired-editor-on-drm/

I proposed that all Wired endorsements for DRM-encumbered products should come with this disclaimer:

WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.

Wired didn't take me up on this suggestion.

But I was right. The ability to change features, prices, and availability of things you've already paid for is a powerful temptation to corporations. Inkjet printers were always a sleazy business, but once these printers got directly connected to the internet, companies like HP started pushing out "security updates" that modified your printer to make it reject the third-party ink you'd paid for:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Now, this scam wouldn't work if you could just put things back the way they were before the "update," which is where the DRM comes in. A thicket of IP laws make reverse-engineering DRM-encumbered products into a felony. Combine always-on network access with indiscriminate criminalization of user modification, and the enshittification will follow, as surely as night follows day.

This is the root of all the right to repair shenanigans. Sure, companies withhold access to diagnostic codes and parts, but codes can be extracted and parts can be cloned. The real teeth in blocking repair comes from the law, not the tech. The company that makes McDonald's wildly unreliable McFlurry machines makes a fortune charging franchisees to fix these eternally broken appliances. When a third party threatened this racket by reverse-engineering the DRM that blocked independent repair, they got buried in legal threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Everybody loves this racket. In Poland, a team of security researchers at the OhMyHack conference just presented their teardown of the anti-repair features in NEWAG Impuls locomotives. NEWAG boobytrapped their trains to try and detect if they've been independently serviced, and to respond to any unauthorized repairs by bricking themselves:

https://mamot.fr/@[email protected]/111528162905209453

Poland is part of the EU, meaning that they are required to uphold the provisions of the 2001 EU Copyright Directive, including Article 6, which bans this kind of reverse-engineering. The researchers are planning to present their work again at the Chaos Communications Congress in Hamburg this month – Germany is also a party to the EUCD. The threat to researchers from presenting this work is real – but so is the threat to conferences that host them:

https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/researchers-face-legal-threats-over-sdmi-hack/

20 years ago, Chris Anderson told me that it was unrealistic to expect tech companies to refuse demands for DRM from the entertainment companies whose media they hoped to play. My argument – then and now – was that any tech company that sells you a gadget that can have its features revoked is defrauding you. You're paying for x, y and z – and if they are contractually required to remove x and y on demand, they are selling you something that you can't rely on, without making that clear to you.

But it's worse than that. When a tech company designs a device for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades, they invite both external and internal parties to demand those downgrades. Like Pavel Chekov says, a phaser on the bridge in Act I is going to go off by Act III. Selling a product that can be remotely, irreversibly, nonconsensually downgraded inevitably results in the worst person at the product-planning meeting proposing to do so. The fact that there are no penalties for doing so makes it impossible for the better people in that meeting to win the ensuing argument, leading to the moral injury of seeing a product you care about reduced to a pile of shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

But even if everyone at that table is a swell egg who wouldn't dream of enshittifying the product, the existence of a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature makes the product vulnerable to external actors who will demand that it be used. Back in 2022, Adobe informed its customers that it had lost its deal to include Pantone colors in Photoshop, Illustrator and other "software as a service" packages. As a result, users would now have to start paying a monthly fee to see their own, completed images. Fail to pay the fee and all the Pantone-coded pixels in your artwork would just show up as black:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

Adobe blamed this on Pantone, and there was lots of speculation about what had happened. Had Pantone jacked up its price to Adobe, so Adobe passed the price on to its users in the hopes of embarrassing Pantone? Who knows? Who can know? That's the point: you invested in Photoshop, you spent money and time creating images with it, but you have no way to know whether or how you'll be able to access those images in the future. Those terms can change at any time, and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself.

These companies are all run by CEOs who got their MBAs at Darth Vader University, where the first lesson is "I have altered the deal, pray I don't alter it further." Adobe chose to design its software so it would be vulnerable to this kind of demand, and then its customers paid for that choice. Sure, Pantone are dicks, but this is Adobe's fault. They stuck a KICK ME sign to your back, and Pantone obliged.

This keeps happening and it's gonna keep happening. Last week, Playstation owners who'd bought (or "bought") Warner TV shows got messages telling them that Warner had walked away from its deal to sell videos through the Playstation store, and so all the videos they'd paid for were going to be deleted forever. They wouldn't even get refunds (to be clear, refunds would also be bullshit – when I was a bookseller, I didn't get to break into your house and steal the books I'd sold you, not even if I left some cash on your kitchen table).

Sure, Warner is an unbelievably shitty company run by the single most guillotineable executive in all of Southern California, the loathsome David Zaslav, who oversaw the merger of Warner with Discovery. Zaslav is the creep who figured out that he could make more money cancelling completed movies and TV shows and taking a tax writeoff than he stood to make by releasing them:

https://aftermath.site/there-is-no-piracy-without-ownership

Imagine putting years of your life into making a program – showing up on set at 5AM and leaving your kids to get their own breakfast, performing stunts that could maim or kill you, working 16-hour days during the acute phase of the covid pandemic and driving home in the night, only to have this absolute turd of a man delete the program before anyone could see it, forever, to get a minor tax advantage. Talk about moral injury!

But without Sony's complicity in designing a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature into the Playstation, Zaslav's war on art and creative workers would be limited to material that hadn't been released yet. Thanks to Sony's awful choices, David Zaslav can break into your house, steal your movies – and he doesn't even have to leave a twenty on your kitchen table.

The point here – the point I made 20 years ago to Chris Anderson – is that this is the foreseeable, inevitable result of designing devices for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades. Anyone who was paying attention should have figured that out in the GW Bush administration. Anyone who does this today? Absolute flaming garbage.

Sure, Zaslav deserves to be staked out over an anthill and slathered in high-fructose corn syrup. But save the next anthill for the Sony exec who shipped a product that would let Zaslav come into your home and rob you. That piece of shit knew what they were doing and they did it anyway. Fuck them. Sideways. With a brick.

Meanwhile, the studios keep making the case for stealing movies rather than paying for them. As Tyler James Hill wrote: "If buying isn't owning, piracy isn't stealing":

https://bsky.app/profile/tylerjameshill.bsky.social/post/3kflw2lvam42n

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

Image: Alan Levine (modified) https://pxhere.com/en/photo/218986

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic #playstation #sony #copyright #copyfight #drm #monopoly #enshittification #batgirl #road runner #financiazation #the end of ownership #ip

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harryspet · 2 months ago

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ribbons & rage | b.barnes

[warnings] dark!gray!congressman!bucky barnes x feral!hybrid!reader, daddy!bucky, power imbalance, possessive bucky, pet play elements, dollification, political manipulation, age regression tones (dd/lg dynamics), dom/sub dynamic, stockholm syndrome, forced domestication, DUBCON

summary: After a diplomatic mission turns into an extraction, Congressman James Buchanan Barnes brings home a prize no one knows about. She’s impulsive. Dirty. Disobedient. But under his eye, with enough ribbons, praise, and correction, he’ll turn the wild thing into something beautiful. Something his.

word count: 5.8k

bucky barnes masterlist

Sam warned him not to get involved in Project LUPUS. He was only a year into his congressional term and he’d managed to fully rid the public of the image of the Winter Soldier. For the first time in the century he’d been alive, he was just James “Bucky” Barnes. Some of his colleagues had even begun to take him seriously. Despite this, Bucky knew Sam didn’t fully understand. He’d never fully understand the destruction that Hydra had caused to his mind. Bucky was the only one who could understand the minds behind the deep-state project. Modern American scientists influenced by Hydra’s science.

Project LUPUS was Hydra’s legacy. The experimentations, the genetic manipulations, the violence. They hadn’t been erased. They were buried, waiting for someone to dig them up. It was his responsibility to make sure everything tied to it was destroyed.

The classified file came across his desk because one of his colleagues recognized he would be the best person for the job. He was granted limited access under the purpose of an oversight audit and a bioethics violation review.

According to the document, everyone involved had been terminated and all the experiment subjects had been exeterminated. His colleague believed otherwise. Bucky read the documents even closer during his private flight to Outpost-25 A, and undisclosed location in Alaskan territory. A snowstorm had grounded most flights but he’d been given “special clearance”.

The scientists, under the direction of a network embedded within the Department of Defense, were intending to create self-healing, biologically engineered hybrids with enhanced aggression, sharp senses, and fast reflexes. They’d be able to detect and eliminate threats, control public unrest, recover key asessets, and could even be deployed during warfare operations.

They’d learned nothing from the past.

The very last document in the pile of fifty pages peaked Bucky’s interest the most. It was a scanned intake form, faded, stained and partially redacted. This one had many notes written in the margins. A different tone than the documents describing the purpose of the project, the different subjects and how they’d been exterminated.

Subject 109. LUPUS-F. Status: Unconfirmed termination. Last seen on Sublevel 3.

Ah, the real reason he was here. You were nineteen at the time that the project had been terminated. Many of the notes were similar to the other subjects. Rapid healing. Strong territorial response. Pre-verbal communication. A few others, including you, had been listed as non-compliant.

He stared at the paper longer than he should have, becoming unsettled as he read further.

There were so many incident reports related to you. Reports on the use of deadly force. Gunshot wound to the abdomen. The accidental death of a Lt. Carney. Another accidental death of a Lt. Wynn. Destruction of two containment doors during transport. The standard dose of sedation being ineffective due to rapid metabolism.

Avoid eye contact.

Will only accept food from [REDACTED]

Your termination order was prior to the termination of the project. The justification included unmanageable behavorial volatility and emotional instability. It stated your body had been incinerated but there were no autopsy photos included.

Double dose required for sedation.

Rejection of mating partner 103-M.

Rejection of mating partner 98-M.

Rejection of mating partner 115-M.

Bucky searched for anything that gone right during your captivity and didn’t find anything. Bucky finally tore his eyes away when the plane dipped from turbulence. The storm was building. As the jet began its descent into a snow-covered valley, Bucky caught sight of the outpost. It was buried under permafrost in a decommissioned missile silo.

The pilot warned him not to stay long before he finally stepped off the transport. It was a thirty-foot walk through snow, reaching up to his mid-calf, to the entrance. The tall steel doors of the entrance had been sealed off. He used his clearance code, courtesy of his colleague on the oversight committe, and the steel doors groaned open.

Lights flickered weakly above. He passed through long corridors and security checkpoints until he reached the main lab. It didn’t look abandoned. Only frozen in time. Notes were still scrawled across whiteboards, papers stacked on desks, and metal trays with half-used syringes. A shattered, glass, containment chamber sat nearby, clawmarks across the glass.

But there were no bodies, or bones, or even any bullet casing.

Carefully and methodically, Bucky cleared the first two floors of the outpost. He found each cage door open and and empty. When he finally reached Sublevel 3, he noticed something in the air had shifted. The air cooled even further and lights dimmed. That’s where he found the bones. Animal bones.

He checked each cage for a sign of life. Though there was a pistol on his hip and a shotgun strapped to his back, he didn’t ever reach for them. He paused at cell 12-C and stepped inside. There was bedding, sheets created from lab coats, chair cushions and even shredded documents. Muddy foot prints. Small and barefoot.

You weren’t in a cell. You were loose. Surviving.

He stepped back into the hallway. And then he saw you. No chains. Just … standing at the end of the hall. Watching him.

Despite the the lack of sunlight and coldness of your home, your skin was rich and radiant. Your curls, though some were matted, defied gravity. Your frame was slender, most likely from being trapped here with dwindling resources, but the curves of your body remained. Gunshot to the abdomen. He saw the scar above your hip bone. He also saw another one on your right thigh and an even larger one on your collarbone.

It wasn’t just the scars or the angles of your body that made you unlike anything Bucky had ever seen. Unnaturaly wide pupils that he could see even in the dim light. Slightly pointed ears. You looked him over, scanned him, and Bucky noted the faint twitch of your nostrils – scenting him. Though you were physically much smaller than him, you did not cower. You were not prey.

Your lips parted and Bucky could see your canines, just slightly too long.

He remembered your file.

Hybrid Type: Homo sapiens/Canis lupus (Genome Series III)

Ancestral Donor: [REDACTED]

You were made this way. Selfishly, inappropriately, Bucky wondered how something made by evil minds could be so … beautiful. Something switched in his mind then. He couldn’t ensure the full termination of Project LUPUS.

You were like him. A monster of another’s creation. He had to save you. Someone decided to give him a second chance, he could do that from you.

Perhaps they had evolved. Maybe he was here to get rid of you like the others. He was armed. There was no reason to trust him.

You didn’t speak. Just stared. Assessed.

Until you did move.

Part of you expected to easily pierce his skin. To be so much faster and stronger that the shear force of pushing your body against his would easily knock him down. You hadn’t met a worthy opponent yet. Until now.

He caught you.

He moved but barely. You let out a scream of anguish as his arms wrapped around your torso, pulling your body against his. You thrashed wildly, trying to pull your knees into his groin, before you decided to go for his throat. Bearing your teeth, you lunged for him, but the wind was almost knocked out of you when you suddenly found yourself slammed against the concrete wall.

Now you were mad. Blindingly furious.

What was he? He didn’t smell like a hybrid. He smelled chemical, metallic, and synthetic. His arm, across your chest, pinned you against the wall. You looked up at his face now, long dark hair shielding half his face.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” His first words to you weren’t a threat. You knew that much although you couldn’t decipher the full meaning. He was surprised. Not scared of you. Not the least bit scared of his own safety. It made you even more furious, “You’ll hurt yourself if you don’t stop.”

Dead. Hurt. You knew those words. Those were bad words. But he almost seemed worried. He looked �� conflicted.

You couldn’t breathe, your chest was tightening under the pressure, and it felt like your bones might crack at any minute. Your eyes burned from the rage and frustration. No one had ever made you feel like this. You wanted his heart in your hands. You wanted his head off his shoulders. But you forced your body to still. Not in submission but to allow yourself time to think.

A growling whine left your throat, the pain finally fully registering. His grip loosened and something changed in his face. He managed to keep you pinned but the pressure lessened, “I don’t want to hurt you,” He spoke and you hung onto every word. You needed to think. To try to understand him, “You won’t be able to hurt me. Not in the way you want to.”

Your nostrils flared. You didn’t believe him. You also didn’t move. Clearly, you would have to take a different approach.

He talked like a human. Carried weapons like the humans. You weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like he needed them. You could take another bullet, you’d done it before. You wished that the food hadn’t started running out a few weeks ago. You would be stronger. But there was still fight left in you.

He didn’t notice the switch flip in your mind. He was already pulling away, giving you space, but you quickly struck again. Dropped your weight, slammed your forehead against his jaw as hard as possible. Nails slashed against his throat when you successfully caught him off guard. You drew blood and smiled.

“Fuck,” He growled, actually growled, and your smile grew bigger.

So he bleeds. What was he?

A metal arm wrapped around your throat before he shoved you to the ground. You scrambled and kicked as he got on top of you, straddling your torso. When he reached into his pocket, you thought he was reaching for his gun.

“You don’t get it,” He said. You screamed as best as you could. Your chest heaved, “I’m not your enemy.”

You didn’t see the syringe until it was already pressed against your arm. The sting was nothing. You’d felt much worse. You didn’t flinch. Despite the way his face softened, you showed him your rage. You pushed at him until you couldn’t feel anything anymore.

Bucky didn’t realize he’d taken on too much responsibility until it was too late.

“You’re safe here,” He’d say over and over, “This isn’t a cage.”

Now you were here in his Brooklyn home, barefoot, feral, and you were close to destroying every valuable item in his home. His first mistake was trying to make sure you didn’t feel caged. He realized quickly that he couldn’t be nice with you. The only things you responded to were pain and control.

This would be a journey. A long one. It would be a slow, brutal fight to drag you out of whatever darkness they left you in.

And Bucky wasn’t sure yet who would survive it.

For the first two weeks, he kept a bit gag in your mouth to stop you from biting, and padded gloves on your hands, leather on the outside, soft inside, to keep you from scratching him. He had to sedate you everytime he deemed you needed a bath or your teeth brushed because you’d fight him until your body went limp from exhaustion. You completely refused any clothing, leaving Bucky to draw every curtain in the home.

He hadn’t found a way to make a click. To help you understand. Until he’d prepared you a breakfast one morning and you’d thanked him by flipping the table. He lifted you by your waist and dragged you kicking and screaming to the living room. He bent you over the couch, vibranium arm pressed against your upper back, and spanked you until your growling turned to whimpers.

He hadn’t seen you cry yet. Not until then. His heart panged, realizing he’d let his anger make him lose control. He hand’t wanted to hurt you. Not really. But the spanking had done more then bruise your ass. It embarassed you. Made you truly realize how much stronger he was. You were deadly but Bucky had an extra eighty years to perfect his craft.

Bucky could tell in the way your posture softened. How you leaned into the fabric of the couch for comfort. You weren’t broken but you were beginning to understand. He was the one in control. He could keep you here no matter how much you fought it.

You allowed him to lift you, to place you softly on the material of the expensive sofa. As he rounded the piece of furniture and sat close to you, he watched how you pulled your knees into your chest. And then quickly sat up and tucked your knees under yourself instead, bottom sore. Hesitantly, he rested a hand on your thigh. You looked up at him, eyes sad and confused.

“I know,” He said quietly, voice rough but steady, “But there are rules to follow. You were being a bad girl–”

You pointed to your chest and spoke to him for the first time, “B-ad girl.”

Bucky was taken aback by your tone of voice. Gritty from misuse but he heard so much softness underneath. A delicateness he had not expected. Bucky nodded after a long pause, “Yes, you were being a bad girl. But I know you can be a good girl.”

Your brows furrowed and Bucky saw the way that you momentarily grew frustrated before you pushed it away. For the first time, you pushed away your gut instinct to fight him. You pointed to him next, “Good girl?” You asked, confused. It didn’t sound right and Bucky could see your mind working.

Bucky grinned, “No, I’m Bucky.”

“Boy,” You corrected yourself, “Good boy?”

Bucky’s lips parted. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d get to this point with you so he hadn’t spent enough time considering how he would explain all of this you, “No,” He said after clearing his throat, “That one’s for you. You get to be the good girl.”

You tilted your head again, “You … Alpha?”

Bucky shook his head, “No, not exactly. I want to be your …” He thought carefully about his next words. He pointed to you, “You … good girl. Baby. Doll. Pet.”

He pointed to himself next, “Me …. I’m Daddy.”

“Hmm,” You made a noise as you looked him over. You reached out next, your fingers wandering curiously over the fabric of his white button up. You felt his chest, hard and thick before you gripped the metal wrist of his left arm, “Daddy arm … this … you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Still me,” Bucky spoke a little breathlessly, not realizing how much that word on your lips would make his heart race. You studied his face and then subsequently his heart rate. You placed a hand over his heart and felt the beating. It fascinated you. Your heart rate was so much slower, so much more controlled.

You made another noise and your hands wandered back to your own lap. It would be a strange sight to anyone looking in. You were completely naked and Bucky had, somewhat, grown used to looking at your figure. Sometimes his eyes lingered a little too long on the perks of your nipples or the plumpness of your bottom. And your legs were slightly parted, he could clearly see your slit. You didn’t mind it. It bothered you more when he wanted you to wear clothes.

“No baby,” You interrupted his thoughts and Bucky realized his hand was traveling closer to the gap between your thighs.

You were so soft.

“What?” he asked, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“No … not baby,” You pointed to yourself then and gestured to a lower height, palm facing downward, emphasizing how small an actual baby would be, “This baby.”

You wanted to be understood, “Not a real baby, no,” Bucky said, “But I want you to be my baby,” When you went quiet, he continued, “I want to take care of you. I will take care of you.”

You shook your head, “No need.”

“I know,” Bucky agreed, “You’re right. You’re strong. But I know you don’t want to be alone again. All by yourself. No family. No friends. No love. It’s bad for you.”

“Bad for me. No love,” You said after awhile, mimicking him. Trying to understand.

Bucky nodded, “It’s good to have someone. Stay with me. I won’t hurt–”

“You hit,” You retorted, some of that fury returning. Your palm touched the skin of your bruised bottom, “See, you hit! No like. I … don’t like.”

You raised a hand and Bucky quickly caught it. His eyes grew sharper and he sent you a warning.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to like it. I hit, yes. But it’s different than this,” Bucky emphasized the scars on your skin, the bullet wounds, the scars from where knives had sliced you open, “Sometimes it hurts more here.” He pointed to you heart.

“I don’t like,” You said again, softer this time.

Slowly, Bucky’s tight grip turned gently and he took your hand into his. One hand on your thigh, his metal hand on your soft one.

“Then you won’t be a bad girl, okay? No fighting. No hurting Daddy. If you want something, you have to tell me. You can’t just throw a tantrum. There are rules to follow.”

You sighed, considering. Your lips parted again, uncertain. That was good enough for Bucky.

Bucky leaned in, his voice gentle, “Do you know your name? I’m Bucky. You are …”

“109-F,” You answered easily and flashed him a look of boredom, like your name didn’t matter.

“That was your name. We’ll think of something better, okay?”

Another week passed and Bucky found he had little use for the bit gag and leather gloves. The tantrums remained but Bucky noticed your intentions had changed. You didn’t get riled up and try to hurt him anymore. You pushed at him and knocked things over but mostly only when you wanted to communicate something and Bucky couldn’t understand you.

As the spankings increased, the good behavior increased as well. He started new routines with you.

Your room was currently only a twin bed and soft carpet despite the size of the room. It allowed for less things to be destroyed. You didn’t sleep in the bed anyways. Bucky started to notice that his couch cushions, blankets, old newspapers, and even clothes from his closet were starting to go missing. He found them later in the small closet connected to your room.

A nest.

You had created a soft, safe space for yourself inside. At first, you bared your teeth at him when he tried to step inside. Instead, Bucky sat right by the entrance of the closet door. He brought you breakfast, a simple bowl of oatmeal. He’d take a spoonful into his mouth and exaggerate an, “Mmmm,” as he ate. Then he would hold the spoon out to you and wait for you to take it, “Your turn, baby.”

You refused the first few times. Then eventually you took the spoon in your hand and catapulted it at the wall. Not out of anger, mostly out of curiosity. And then you clumsily dipped the spoon inside the oatmeal, brought it to your nose, smearing some on your nose. “See, it’s not so bad. Try it.”

You looked at him like he was from another planet.

Eventually, you took the spoon into your mouth and had a few bites, “Good girl, baby.” That’s how he knew you were warming to him.

His work in Washington continued even as he continued to help you settle into a routine. There were still meetings and late-night calls. Stacks of policy briefs piled high on the living room table and his phone buzzed constantly. Soon, he would have to return but he hoped by then you would be more house broken. Easier to manage. Easier to leave on your own.

You responded well to the corporal punishments. To make even bigger changes, Bucky tried to workout a system of rewards for you. It started with the stuffed animals. Soft and cute. He knew you’d never seen or held one before. He sat outside the closet, further than he usually did, one evening holding a stuffed, brown bear, “Look, he’s soft. Do you want to hold him?”

“ … hold him?” You made you way to the edge of door and reached for it.

Bucky pulled back, “You may hold him. You’ve been such a good girl, eating your food, and not throwing things. Come here,” He patted his lap.

For a long moment, you mentally debated whether or not you would leave the closet. When you finally decided the risk was worth it, you hesitantly crawled forward, sitting your bare bottom on the worn fabric of his jeans. Bucky let you take the bear into your hands and he saw something your face soften immediately. You brushed your hands over the fur methodically, over and over. Bucky counted fifty brushes of your hand over it’s head.

“You can hug him,” Bucky demonstrated for you, realizing then that you wouldn’t know what a hug was. He pressed the bear to your chest and then guided your arms around the plush toy, “See, sweet girl. Do you like him?”

“I like bear,” Your voice came out muffled as you pressed the bear against your face, “Soft.”

You were mesmerized for a solid fourty-five minutes. You didn’t mind when Bucky shifted you in his lap so that you were fully straddling him, the bear between the two of you. His hands caressed your back, the sides of your waist and eventually he fully grasped your bottom in his hands, “Fuck,” He cursed under his breath.

“Hurt?” You asked though it was clear your mind was elsewhere.

“No, baby,” Bucky said although he was painfully hard.

“I keep bear?”

Bucky placed a soft kiss against your shoulder blade and was surprised when your face remained soft, almost happy, “It’s yours. For you, my good girl.”

“I’m good girl,” You smiled a real smile. It was the first time he fully saw your teeth and you weren’t thirty seconds from trying to rip out his jugular, “Good bear for me.”

He nodded, brushing your curls back with his metal fingers. He’d have to tackle another deep detangling another night, “That’s right. But when someone gives you something special, there’s something else you say, too.” He touched your cheek. “Can you say thank you, baby?”

You blinked at him.

“Thannnk—” he started, slow and patient.

You studied his mouth. “Than...”

“Good,” he coaxed, smiling now. “Now say thank you, Daddy.”

You continued, “Thank you… Daddy.”

“There you go. So polite. So sweet.”

You just stayed there, safe in his lap, hugging the bear a little tighter.

You followed Mr. Bear around the house. Wherever Bucky placed him, you were there. The kitchen table at breakfast, the space beneath Bucky’s desk while he was working, beside the bathtub when Bucky decided you couldn’t go any longer without a bath, your bed that you had initially abandoned. You’d even spent a full night in Bucky’s large bed, letting Bucky hold your waist as you slept using Mr. Bear as your pillow. It wasn’t conscious at first. You fell in love with the small toy quickly. You looked in his eyes and squished his belly to help calm yourself, to even help yourself sleep. It was an attachment that was foreign to you. You liked that Mr. Bear was yours and that Bucky had given him to you.

It was comfort and regulation. It was all new.

You spent a full two weeks with that sense of peace. Until you woke from a long nap on the living room couch and Mr. Bear was missing. You’d learn to breathe, to slow down and to not let your anger rise to point of seeing red. You breathed deeply as you turned over every cushion and looked threw drawers. You couldn’t even smell him anymore.

He was gone. Forever. Stolen from you. Had you been a bad girl? You’d grown attached and now you’d been abandoned. You started looking under any item you could find, letting items fall to the ground with a thud. You emptied an entire bookshelf of all it’s books and spread the contents of one of Bucky’s manila folders all over the floor.

Cold, dense paper. Nothing soft. You didn’t register the sound of Bucky’s voice in the other room. You fell to your knees, cheeks wet with tears, and started to shred the papers with your nails.

“....Then tell them to hold off until I’m back D.C. I won’t sign off on anything blind …. Yeah, he knows this. Email him again. Then call. Whatever you have to do. That’s your job …”

A second later, the footsteps came. Fast, heavy but controlled.

“Give me a second,” Bucky said. Then louder, “Just pause the call.”

Your eyes found his when he finally walked into the living room from his office. He looked over everything quickly. You couldn’t control your breathing.

Before he could ask you what was wrong, you yelled, “You took bear! Not here! Where?!”

“He’s not gone,” Bucky crouched next to you, eyes dark and fixed sharply on you, “I was in the other room. You need to ask when you have a question. You can’t do … this.”

“Need bear, Daddy,” You crawled closer on your knees, “Need. Baby is sad.”

“Thank you for telling Daddy how you feel but this is not what you do when you’re sad. You didn’t ask Daddy for help,” Before he continued his lecture, he realized you weren’t the least bit sorry. Your focus was on your toy, “Daddy put Mr. Bear in the washing machine. He was dirty. He’s in the dryer now.”

“You took bear,” You croaked and Bucky sighed, “Not dirty. Give back.”

“I’ll give him back after you clean up your mess.”

“No, Daddy!”

“Do you want a spanking too?” You blinked, eyes wide. You shook your head slowly. It had been so long since Bucky had bent you over and done that to you, “Clean, all this needs to go in the trash. The books go back on the bookshelf. And you can put the couch back together. I will wait.”

You scowled then. You had to clean when all of this was his fault. He took Mr. Bear.

He kept his word. He waited. You put the couch cushions back where they belonged before you stacked the books back on the shelf. He stepped in to show you exactly where the books needed to go and held a trash bag open for you to place all the destroyed papers in.

“Good girl,” He said though the way his jaw clicked made you believe he might be just as mad as you.

He took your hand a moment later and led you into the small room with two white machines. One was loud, rumbling and as Bucky opened it’s door, the shaking came to a cease. And then Mr. Bear appeared. Before you could lunge for him, Bucky’s metal arm shot out, holding you at a distance, “My bear,” Your voice trailed off as you eyed the toy. He looked cleaner but he’d lost the smell you’d grown to like, “Bucky no more clean. Not dirty.”

“Mr. Bear does get dirty just like Baby does. He has to have a bath sometimes. Do you understand?”

You were reluctant but you nodded. “Yes,” As soon as the plus toy was in your arms, you curled up on the ground, and held him tightly. As Bucky turned to return to his call in the other room, you let out a small, “.... Sorry, Bucky.”

He paused in the doorway, glanced back.

“I know, baby,” he said gently.

Bucky decided the perfect gateway into you finally wearing clothes around the house was yet another toy. This one was a soft rag doll that looked just slightly like you. The same skin tone and dark curly hair pinned up by two lavender colored bows. She also wore a lavender dress and matching ballet flats. She looked sweet, safe, familiar.

His usual spiel had failed. He explained that clothes were a good thing. They were soft and kept you warm. He also teased the possibility of one day going outside with him, “The people outside always wear clothes,” He’d say, “You want to go on a trip with Daddy one day, don’t you?”

You just ignored him and let your eyes wander towards the window, “This is Mr. Bear’s good friend,” He presented the doll to you, placing her on your bed, next to the loose-fitting, pink t-shirt dress that was laid out on the bed. He chose something completely unrestrictive on purpose. You perked up then. You gave him a hungry look, as if he was presenting you with a medium-rare steak instead of a doll, “She’s a ballerina. Uh, like a dancer. To music. Her name is … Rina.”

“Rina,” You tried, your eyes locked on her, “Soft?”

“She’s very soft,” Bucky assured you, “She loves hugs too.”

“Rina mine?” You asked next, face soft, looking up expectantly, “Like Bear?”

“She could be. She wants a new friend. But she has a rule.”

Your arms crossed at that. You leaned forward to study the doll, brows furrowed, “She has rule?”

“She doesn’t want to be held unless you’re dressed, like people are supposed to be. Even cute hybrid girls have to wear clothes. She feels the most comfortable that way.”

You pouted adorably, “Bad rule.”

“Maybe,” Bucky said, “That’s what she told me. Rina’s rules. She might let you hold her if you’re a good girl.”

“Don’t like,” You started to whine, pressing your body against Bucky’s body, forehead pressing against his chest, “Please … don’t like.”

Bucky placed gentle on your shoulders, lifting your body from him. He pressed a finger under your chin, lifting it until you were looking at him, “I’m sorry, I would help you but it’s not my rule.”

He turned away from you. Not far, only a few steps. He gave you space. Pretended to check his email on his phone. He heard you stomp your feet. Once. Twice. Then a whine. Then there was silence. The tiniest ruffle of fabric. When Bucky turned around, you were wearing the dress. He smiled wide, impressed.

He doubted he could get you in pair of underwear or a bra today but there was time for that.

He came closer again, running his fingers over your hair before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “Did it. See, Bucky.” You declared, eyes wide and expecting, “Mine now?”

“She’s yours.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” You bounced on your toes excitedly before you happily scooped up the doll. Bucky picked you up next, and you wrapped your legs around his torso. You let out a soft laugh, a real one, and it was music to Bucky’s ears. One arm looping around his neck, the other squeezing Rina to your body, you looked Bucky in his eyes deeply. Like he’d placed gentle kisses on your forehead, your shoulder, and cheeks, you placed a soft peck on his lips.

He stilled for a second. Then smiled, full and proud, “Thank you, babygirl.”

There was one week left until Bucky had to return to Washington. He was more than happy with the progress you’d made. You’d started wearing underwear and you’d even been open to trying different kinds of clothes. Pants were still a nonstarter. You didn’t mind the skirts. You didn’t love the tight-fitting t-shirts but Bucky often left you no options. You tugged at them and pouted. Selfishly, he liked the way they looked on you.

There were still many gaps in your social etiquette. It took him a full three days to explain that you couldn’t lift up your skirt whenever you wanted. You had a habit of wanting to stare at the different patterns on your underwear and often would flip up your skirt in the middle of a conversation or activity or anything to look. He corrected gently, not because he didn’t like the view but because ideally one day you’d accompany him to dinners and go on outings with him. He didn’t need you putting your body on display.

He convinced you Rina liked it when wore different hairstyles. Ribbons and bows were her absolute favorite. He’d started getting really good at braiding it into neat rows, and tying bows to the ends. During his morning meetings, you often sat between his legs at his desk, Rina in your lap, as he fixed your hairstyle for the day.

Bucky was settling into a sense of peacefulness. A feeling he had longed for. Therapy helped. His new job fulfilled him in some aspects but also made him realize how slow change really happened at the same time. This life, the pocket of innocence he was building around you, was starting to help most of all. This life was the opposite of everything he and you were ever used to.

He didn’t want you exposed to the real world. He would shield you from reality for as long as possible. He would give you something he never had for himself. He’d also had enough of following orders for ten lifetimes. With you, in his own house, he made the rules.

He had to address his mission. Debrief the committee on all of his findings. He had to give his colleagues enough information to satisfy them but couldn’t risk them getting their hands on you. You were the survivicing data to a program that never should’ve been created. He decided to lie. The site was clear of any sources of life. The facility was sealed, records wiped away, and he submitted a report that suggested Project LUPUS be permanently blacklisted from funding due to “gross ethical violations”.

He’d have to spin another story eventually. Explain your presence in his life. Mel, his assistant, was already working on using the story for political advantage. You were a rescued civilian during a humanitarian negotiation. You’d suffered severe trauma and Congressman Barnes, recognizing the complexity of the situation and understanding the importance of mental rehabilitation, he’s personally arranged for you to receive trauma-informed rehabilitative care under his sponsorship. He’d be even more of the hero than the public saw him as.

Colleagues would raise questions but no one would push to hard. He was a war hero. His word was gospel.

Pls reblog w/ your thoughts if you enjoyed! This will be a 2 part series with the second chapter focused on Bucky + Baby’s time in Washington! Hope you enjoyed :)

#dark fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #thunderbolts #black!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #dark bucky barnes

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

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Hii lovely! Can i request the blue lock boys mistaking reader's older brother for another guy and getting jealous of him. (Plz include isagi, bachira, reo, nagi, rin, sae, kaiser, shidou and anyone else you'd like)

“𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐟 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥”

a/n: hiii bae, i love this idea sm! (pls forgive me for the low quality header)

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei

isagi yoichi

you told him someone was picking you up after practice and didn’t mention who.

so when he sees a tall guy with nice hair waiting by your car, he instantly pauses mid-jog like he’s in a sports anime slow-motion scene.

“wait. who the hell…?”

watches you hug this mystery man and get in the passenger seat.

oh. oh it’s a wrap. he’s cooked. is this his karma for flexing his goal tally last week?

that night he doesn't text you first (petty behavior unlocked). when you finally message, “did you get home safe?” he replies, “yeah. did you get home safe with your lil ‘uber driver’ or whatever 😐”

nearly cries when you say it’s just your brother.

“BROTHER? LIKE BLOOD BROTHER?”

he meets him later and is so polite but clingy the whole time. has an arm slung around your shoulder like “i got her, no need to pick her up ever again.”

gives you a shy kiss on the temple while looking your brother dead in the eye 😇

bachira meguru

sees your brother at your apartment when he comes over to surprise you.

the door is slightly open. bachira peeks in and hears you say, “stop stealing my snacks!” and some guy laughing like he owns the place.

bachira.exe has stopped working.

this man literally runs away. doesn’t knock. just leaves.

sends you a cryptic voice message like, “soooo do you still love me or should i get custody of our imaginary dog?”

when you call and say it’s your brother, he LAUGHS LIKE A PSYCHO.

“ohhhh that’s so funny ‘cause i was about to fight for my life 😭”

next time he sees your brother, he fake-flexes his abs and tries to one-up him in every game, from uno to mario kart.

“see babe? i’m the real alpha here. right, brother-in-law?”

your brother loves him. thinks he’s weird. they do matching face masks later.

mikage reo

the moment he sees you posting a blurry photo on your story captioned “my least favorite person 💔” with some dude's arm around your shoulder, he becomes a detective.

zooms in. enhances. runs it through a filter. ignores the caption completely.

“that’s not me. and it’s DEFINITELY not nagi. WHO IS THIS MAN.”

texts you casually like: “sooo what’d you do today? meet anyone... interesting?”

meanwhile he’s pacing in a designer hoodie.

almost calls nagi to vent but remembers nagi doesn’t give a single damn.

when you say “lmao that’s my brother, dumbass,” he sends you $100 with the caption: “sorry for doubting. pls buy snacks and forgive me 💜”

meets your brother and turns on the CEO charm.

“soooo… you single?” winks jokingly

your brother, confused: “uh no?”

“good. me neither.” arm around you. smug smirk. threat level: rich.

nagi seishiro

looks up from his phone when you walk into a restaurant with some guy.

blinks once. twice.

puts his phone down. dramatic. “wow. didn’t know you were dating someone else.”

sulks and stares at you across the room like he’s in a soap opera.

when you come over and say, “sei, this is my brother,” he straight up says, “you have a brother? since when.”

“since birth???”

nods. doesn’t even apologize.

“he looked too handsome. had to double-check.”

ends up napping on your brother’s shoulder later like a sleepy cat. they bond over mobile games.

itoshi rin

he’s already jealous of the mailman, so your brother didn’t stand a chance.

sees him waiting for you outside and immediately assumes the worst.

glares. bro is GLARING.

mutters to himself, “should’ve known. she’s way too good for me.”

gives you the coldest shoulder when you get in his car later.

you’re like “what’s wrong with you.”

“nothing. maybe you should ask your boyfriend.”

you: “you mean my brother???”

cue long pause.

“… i knew that.”

very quiet for the rest of the ride. holds your hand tighter though.

texts sae like: “how do you tell someone you were ready to fight their sibling over nothing.”

sae: “you don’t. you just live with it.”

itoshi sae

sees you walking beside your brother and goes dead silent.

looks him up and down. lips twitch.

you’re like, “why do you look like you’re about to commit a felony?”

“no reason. just thinking.”

“thinking about what?”

“thinking about breaking his ankles on a futsal court.”

you tell him it’s your brother and he just goes “oh.”

OH???

does he apologize? no.

does he move on like nothing happened? yes.

will still side-eye your brother whenever he sees him.

gives him a firm handshake like he’s secretly arm-wrestling him.

mutters under his breath: “i’m the better itoshi.”

kaiser michael

he's cocky until he thinks he’s being replaced.

sees a photo of you and your brother at the arcade and his ego takes a massive hit.

“who is this peasant touching my queen.”

replies to your story with: “cute pic. who’s the guy? should i be worried?”

you: “that’s literally my brother.”

kaiser: relieved scoff “oh thank goodness. for a second i was about to challenge him to a duel.”

starts calling your brother “bro” the next time he sees him.

“what’s up, bro. wanna see baby pics of your sister? i’ve got a whole album.”

definitely shows off and starts speaking german around him for no reason.

“was für ein schöner tag, oder? (what a beautiful day, isn’t it?)”

“mihya, stop flexing, you sound like google translate.”

shidou ryusei

sees you talking to your brother at a café.

brain: jealousy, murder, mayhem.

throws his smoothie in the trash and storms in.

slaps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek with aggressive eye contact at your brother.

“who’s this clown?”

“ryu, this is my BROTHER.”

“oh.”

laughs like a maniac “well he’s ugly anyway, right babe?”

your brother: “… i’m right here.”

ends up challenging him to arm wrestling and fails spectacularly.

“whatever. you might be stronger, but i get to kiss her.”

sends you a voice note later like: “babe, don’t ever give me a heart attack like that again. i was about to grab my barbed wire bat.”

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mari-lair · 9 months ago

Text

Here are some Sif is Out AU exclusive equipable Memories.

Memories of In The Way! If equipped Mirabelle is able to give the killing blow when the king's health is at the halfway mark! [Description once equipped: The king is an annoyance, not a threat.]

Memories of Pineapple. If equipped Bonnie can no longer heal or offer buffs in battle, they'll only show up to attack. [Description once equipped: You killed him.]

Memory of Mutual Feelings. If equipped Isabeau won't be able to gain experience but Siffrin will gain twice as much. [Description once equipped: You are loved!]

Memory of Liar: If equipped Odile will detect when Siffrin is lying (does not work with lies of omission). [Description once equipped: They are not fine.]

Memory of Home. If equipped, the time loop is broken. [Description once equipped: You feel real by their side. This is home.]

#i only drop lore through comic THAT WOULD TAKE AGES TO SHARE so you can have some memories as a treat.#one per party member #siffrin? more like sif is out au #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers

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checkeredflagggs · 5 months ago

Text

Bouquets of Love

pairing: oscar piastri x secret admirer!reader

summary: oscar has no idea who is leaving such gorgeous bouquets for him but he’s very grateful (and very determined to find out who)

a/n1: I’m gonna need you guys to repeat after me — suspend your disbelief please

a/n2: this idea really came from sin’s discord cause we like imagining oscar dating a florist — blushing every time he’s handed a bouquet…good image

Masterlist | Taglist

Private Messages

Bluesky

user1: oscar has a secret admirer?!?

↳user2: oh that’s so cute!

↳user1: right?

user3: don’t worry guys they were from me

↳user4: nah sorry man they were actually from me

user5: ok but did anyone get any footage of Oscar receiving the flowers? Cause this is him —> 😳😳

↳user6: wait how did you know?? 😂

↳user7: no but be so for real i can just see him being so blushy getting flowers

↳user8: you paint such a vivid picture…

user9: i wanna know who’s leaving him flowers…does he have a girlfriend??

↳user10: none that we know of! But tbh he’s like the top of the grid for having a secret relationship

↳user9: that’s very true

Private Messages

Bluesky

user11: ohhh someone is pulling out all the stops this V-Day!

user12: oh to be wooed with gorgeous gorgeous flower bouquets…

user13: I know we’re all joking about this but damn those are pretty!

user14: I know we’re all joking about this but how is it getting to his car?

↳oscarpiastri: that’s a very good question…

↳user14: oscar!

↳user15: you’ve been seen!

↳user14: yeah I don’t know if I like this or not…

oscarpiastri: you say you saw me getting the bouquet — does this mean you saw who did it?

↳81fan: sorry king but all I saw was a person in a long coat turning the corner

↳oscarpiastri: tall? Short? Average? Hair color? Skin color?

↳81fan: literally just the edge of their coat

↳81fan: tbh I only suspect them because they were hurrying away

↳oscarpiastri: so you’re really no help at all are you?

↳81fan: you can get kinda mean can’t you?

petals_and_pedals

liked by user, alexandrasaintmleux, user, and 18,193 others

petals_and_pedals: with Valentine’s Day coming up, stop right in for (almost) all of your needs!

view all comments

user16: do you sell everything there?

↳petals_and_pedals: hahaha it seems like it doesn’t it? But no, just flowers and formula 1!

↳user16: why?

↳petals_and_pedals: our parents left us an empty shop and we couldn’t agree on anything — so my brother runs the f1 side and I run the flower side!

↳user16: ok that’s cute

yourbrother: don’t forget to mention the sale

↳petals_and_pedals: oh yeah! Everything fast is 10% off this week. Everything pretty is 15% off this week!

↳user17: ok but what if they’re both?

↳petals_and_pedals: example?

↳user17: Charles Leclerc? Lewis Hamilton?

↳petals_and_pedals: not really my style tbh

↳user17: 😱😱😱

user18: do you sell premade bouquets?

↳petals_and_pedals: we do! And they come in a variety of sizes and styles!

user19: hmmm… 🤔

↳user19: user53 do you know what I’m thinking?

↳user53: …I do damn it

user20: if we don’t know exactly what we want?

↳petals_and_pedals: we’re here to help!

alexandrasaintmleux: charles_leclerc

↳charles_leclerc: hint received 😊 liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳petals_and_pedals: if you dm us your favorite colors and flowers we can do a custom bouquet!

↳alexandrasaintmleux: 🩷🩷

Private Messages

Bluesky

user21: I’m loving this

↳user22: right? This is a romcom book waiting to happening

↳user23: I’m writing it as we speak

user24: ok where’s the crazy good detective user?

↳user19: I’m already working on it! And I think I’ve got it

↳user24: keep us updated!

oscarpiastri: if you people are gonna keep stalking my car, I’m going to need you guys to get better at photography

↳papaya_4ever: tbh it’s more fun watching you fumble this investigation

↳oscarpiastri: I’m gonna make sure you never get to go to a Grand Prix again in your life

↳papaya_4ever: not as much a threat as you think!

alex_albon: so this is what has you spamming the chats?

↳user25: he’s also freaking out about it to you guys??

↳alex_albon: everyone who lives in his building!

↳user25: that’s funny af

↳oscarpiastri: it is not!!

Bluesky

user26: WE GOT A SIGHTING!

↳user27: can anyone tell me why im more invested in this relationship then anything else in my life right now???

user28: I’m so sat right now. I can not wait for the finale of this…

↳user29: almost worth it to get the popcorn out…

oscarpiastri: ok I’m going to need you to give me a full debrief right now

↳81_4!: …not with that attitude

↳oscarpiastri: 😑😡

↳81_4!: yeah you scare me

↳81_4!: goodbye

↳oscarpiastri: get back here and explain yourself

logansargeant: damn…I wanted this to go on longer…

↳oscarpiastri: you know I’m kinda glad you’re not gonna be around anymore

↳alex_albon: wow you do get mean when you don’t get your way

↳logansargeant: he’s always been like this — ignore it

user19: ehehehehe I solved it

↳user53: yeah you did!

↳oscarpiastri: start talking

↳user19: already tagged you on her page!

↳oscarpiastri: I like you best

↳user53: no

petals_and_pedals

liked by user, francisca.cgomes, user19, and 11,813 others

petals_and_pedals: some of the bouquets premade for Valentine’s Day this Friday! Come stop in and make the day of love a special one!

view all comments

user30: those are so gorgeous!

↳petals_and_pedals: and on sale! liked by user26

francisca.cgomes: I hear you do custom bouquets?

↳petals_and_pedals: we do! Dm us and we can get started on making the perfect one for you!

↳francisca.cgomes: pierregasly!!

↳pierregasly: got it!

user19: ahahaha got it! oscarpiastri is this the bouquet you got today?

↳oscarpiastri: it is…good catch

↳user53: good job babe!

↳user31: babe??!?

Bluesky

user32: he got the girl!!!

↳user33: always believed in him!

↳user34: really?

↳user33: not at all! It was funny watching him freak out

user35: he got the date on Valentine’s Day??

↳user36: wait stop that’s so cute…

oscarpiastri: ok I wasn’t being plagued by bouquets…

↳logansargeant: really? Could have fooled me the way you were freaking out about it…

↳user37: really?

↳logansargeant: constantly. He was terrorizing everyone trying to find out who did it

↳oscarpiastri: go back to America and leave me alone

↳logansargeant: 😂😂

georgerussell63: Finally

↳user38: it couldn’t have been that bad…

↳georgerussell63: He yelled at me for 5 minutes because I couldn’t give him any camera footage from the garage.

↳user38: Damn. Didn’t think he had it in him…

↳georgerussell63: Neither did I…

yourbrother: damn I didn’t have papaya on the bingo card…

↳oscarpiastri: it’s the only color on the bingo card now…

↳yourusername: awwww 🥰🥰

↳yourbrother: I feel like that was a threat

↳oscarpiastri: it was. Yes. liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 1,923,924 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: I got the girl and now she’s the one getting bouquets

view all comments

yourusername: you’re actually so adorable…

↳oscarpiastri: obviously but you don’t have to tell everyone that…

user39: ok I’ve only had them for a couple of hours but if anything happened to them I’d kill everyone then myself… liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername

yourbrother: gladly, she’s your problem now

↳yourusername: that’s not very brotherly of you…

↳yourbrother: I don’t care. Get out of the store and go have a life

↳yourusername: rude

charles_leclerc: a new daughter-in-law!

↳oscarpiastri: not yet…

↳yourusername: 😳😳

user40: google - how to be adopted into this family

↳yourusername: sorry but this one is mine

↳oscarpiastri: absolutely

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff

606 notes · View notes

purplink8 · 5 months ago

Text

My Lawlight headcanon is that-

L fell first:

But Light fell harder:

__________________________________________

Yeah yeah, I'm well aware that the first friend scene was a lie from L's side and a mind game from both sides- BUT look at Light's FACE (and no Light's a good actor but this split second of '...' + transparent eyes is not a performance imho)

He's genuinely stunned (translation: L broke him for a moment there lmao it's like, during that single moment, they're the only ones in the room!) BEFORE he realizes that they are playing a role here in front of the task force. As Ryuga and Light; which is what he tells Ryuk later:

(His eyes are hidden *clenches fists* Light is emotionally affected and does not want anybody to know that L got him. Again.

Except this time, he feels humiliated in a strange sort of way.

Despite everything, including the whole 'enemies till death do we part' thing they have going on? Light enjoyed his time with L (albeit not without the collateral damage of other people dying but I digress). He DID like playing tennis with Ryuga as he tells him. That part's not a lie! L being a good friend is not true though.

L does not want Light as his friend for real. He's bullshitting as always to catch Light off guard. This isn't new. But it. is. Personal (to Light, at least).

Only it shouldn't be! This is all part of their game, isn't it? Then why does Light feel a bit...disappointed due to it not being real? In an alternate universe, would he have liked truly being L's friend?

No! Of course not, that is a ridiculous line of thought! Additionally, just 2 chapters ago, Light was like:

Can you see the lawlight and yagamane parallels here? L intends to catch Kira!Light and poses an execution threat to Light while Misa means to date Light and poses some threats of her own:

Both L and Misa come on too strongly toward Light (one as an enemy and the other as a potential ally). Light merely wants to get rid of them both so as to achieve his keikaku with ease. While dealing with Misa, Light thinks, 'I'll be killing her eventually...I can't develop feelings. That's how most idiots screw up.'

Notice how similar this is when it comes to his dynamic with L as well? He has to kill the latter eventually too and his reaction (to when he's confronted with the fact that Rem *can* kill L at his immediate request before the fiasco of Misa getting arrested happens at least) is this below btw:

The guy is truly shocked at how easy it seems to kill someone as intelligent as L. Light does not smile or seem amused. He takes this (L's future death) very seriously (I think it's the first time he does this since his first two kills). I believe it's partly due to the begrudging respect he has toward the genius detective and partly because of the 'what-if's in his mind.

His eyes, blown wide, are unreadable except for the astonished look they show. It is a rare display of emotion we see from Light (I can't seem to pinpoint just what the emotion is tho) which is quite noteworthy imho.

________________________________________

...Wow I got carried away.

The point is! Light feels a little humiliated for letting his emotions get the better of him even if it was for just an instant during which he was gobsmacked by L's lie which he wished for it to be true.

Light can rationalize it all he wants but deep down, in his heart, he'd always know that there was a period of time (however small) that he not only fell for L's lie, but also secretly under LAYERS of repression actually just wanted to live in that world- the world where there was neither L nor Kira, just Ryuga and his friend Light.

That's wishful thinking and boy would Light hate this if he acknowledged for even a second that yes, he does want that.)

Again. Light 'Developing Feelings = Idiotic Screw ups' Yagami cannot afford to deceive himself that L, on some level, wants to befriend him as that may as well cost his life if he did. He cannot get distracted as that was most definitely one of L's intentions of calling him his 'first friend'.

He'll dutifully play along as he had anticipated it a while ago:

"I like this, Ryuga. If you want to be friends with me. I'll gladly hang out with you."

Light sure looks thrilled as hell to be role-playing as L's friend lmao- like he loves mind games, he revels in duplicity, he enjoys challenges that L adds to his life so is it any wonder that the combination of all is *chef's kiss* for Light? He is so so EXCITED to be hanging out with L face-to-face + looks forward to stabbing him in the back!!

Gotta love lawlight! </3 <3

#(I also hc Light as a tsundere hahaha)#did not expect to write so much about my thoughts re: lawlight #i was just trying to write a fake marriage lawlight au and had to take a look at canon again #plus read some romantic books to figure out which romantic tropes to use #and then this post happened #lmao #i just recently became aware of the trope of 'X fell first but Y fell harder' and guys this is so lawlight coded imo #also boy do i need to write a post on L being like Mr. Darcy & Light being like Elizabeth Bennet XD #Light's intellect is like Elizabeth's fine eyes to Darcy!L ;)#which is more than enough reason for L (Darcy) to fall for our main lead hehe ;D #Elizabeth!Light is just too busy hating Darcy!L to notice that his feelings have far transpired the line of enemies to lovers lol #and so on and so forth #death note #light yagami #l lawliet #mangacaps #lawlight #first friend #misa amane #yagamane #p #my meta #i guess #100 #125 #150 #200 #250

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orellazalonia · 28 days ago

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Hey!! I would like to request a Bucky Barnes x reader fic where their daughter shows up from the future. Bucky and Reader aren’t dating or really even know each other that well yet (maybe they share mutual friends on the team or are friends but just dancing around each other a bit??), so this could be a surprise to them. You could have it that she keeps saying she can’t share information about the future but then accidentally drops information like they have a pet cat named alpine and she has three siblings (Bucky deserves a big loving family) without even totally realizing it. Idk if this is even a great idea, but I like your writing and thought this could be a fun request. Thank you for sharing your writings with us!! <3

Hello there, dear! This was such a cute request, thank you for it! I do admit it was a challenge figuring out how to seamlessly combine each element. So, I hope I did well and that you enjoy! Happy reading!!! ♡

Out of Time, Into Our Lives

Summary: A teen girl suddenly appears at the Avengers compound claiming to be from the future. While she tries to avoid revealing too much, she accidentally and subtly drops hints about her life, her siblings, and the deep bond she shares with you and Bucky Barnes both. (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3

It started like any other morning at the Avengers compound. Quiet, a little too quiet. You were nursing your first real cup of coffee, leaning against the counter in the common room kitchen while chatting lazily with Wanda about her latest attempt at baking banana bread.

Bucky entered halfway through your sentence, nodding politely at you before making a beeline for the fridge. You and he had been doing this little dance for a while now. Friendly, respectful, always a step or two away from crossing into something more. You liked his dry humor, the way his voice softened when he asked how your day was. But neither of you had made a move. Not yet.

Just as you took a sip, FRIDAY’s calm, robotic voice interrupted:

“Alert. Temporal breach detected. Unauthorized presence in the compound.”

You and Bucky both straightened at the same time.

“Temporal breach?” He muttered, already halfway to the hall. You followed.

It wasn’t often something genuinely strange happened anymore, but what you found in the hallway outside one of the research wings made your breath catch in your throat.

A girl stood there, around seventeen. Messy hair pulled into a loose braid. Her clothes didn’t look particularly futuristic, but there was something… off. Like she didn’t belong. She wasn’t panicking, wasn’t aggressive. She was just staring at a portrait of the original Avengers lining the corridor wall, head tilted slightly.

When she noticed you, her eyes widened but it wasn’t fear that passed over her face. It was recognition.

Her gaze locked onto Bucky first. Then shifted to you. And something in her face softened.

“Oh,” She breathed. “It’s earlier than I thought.”

You frowned. “Do we know you?”

“I’m… not supposed to say anything,” She said quickly, straightening. “I mean, I can’t. It would mess with… everything. I wasn’t even supposed to be here. I didn’t mean to come through. The rift just kind of… swallowed me.”

“Rift?” Bucky echoed, stepping closer.

The girl put her hands up, showing no threat. “I know how this sounds. But I swear, I’m not dangerous. I’m not here to hurt anyone. I just need help getting back.”

You gave her a once-over; she didn’t seem injured, but she looked like she hadn’t slept in a while. Underneath the brave exterior, she seemed a little lost.

“Okay,” You said gently. “We believe you. Let’s just take this slow. What’s your name?”

She hesitated. “I can’t tell you that.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“I’m serious,” She insisted. “If I tell you who I am, it could screw up the timeline. I mean, it already is screwed up if I’m standing here. But I really can’t afford to make it worse.”

Wanda appeared in the doorway, her expression unreadable. “She’s not lying,” She said quietly. “She’s scared. But not of us.”

The girl nodded quickly. “Thank you. I’m just… trying to wait it out. The breach will reverse itself. Probably. Eventually.”

You crossed your arms. “So what are we supposed to call you?”

“Uh. I don’t know. You can give me a fake name?” She offered with a shrug. “That feels safer.”

There was a long pause, awkward. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but she beat you to it:

“Is Alpine here?”

You blinked. “Alpine?”

Bucky looked up sharply. “How do you know about Alpine?”

The girl’s face went pale. “I mean. I—uh—I read about her? In the files. Maybe. Probably.”

Bucky’s frown deepened.

She let out a tiny groan and rubbed her face. “I told myself not to say anything specific. Ugh. Okay. Look. I’m just going to sit in a corner, be very quiet, and not ruin anything else, okay?”

You sat beside her, slowly, noting how carefully she avoided looking at Bucky too long. Not out of fear, but something heavier.

She tugged her sleeves down over her hands. “This was easier when you were already married.” The words slipped out of her mouth like a quiet sigh, too casual for how much they weighed.

You and Bucky both stiffened.

He stared at her. You weren’t sure he was even breathing. “What did you just say?”

She blinked, realizing. “Oh. I mean, I didn’t mean it like that. I shouldn’t have said anything. Please ignore that.”

You frowned. “Wait… what do you mean, already married?”

“I’m not answering that.” Her voice sharpened slightly now, trying to backtrack. “Sorry. I really can’t say anything else. Like, actually can’t. This isn’t just me being dramatic, it's literally against every single future protocol. I’ve already said too much.”

Bucky stepped forward slowly, his tone low but steady. “You said you came through a rift. Do you know how that happened?”

She looked grateful for the change in subject, nodding. “I was working with someone back there, on uh, stabilizing temporal energy. I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the live field, but things got weird. And loud. And then everything just… cracked.”

“Cracked?” You asked.

“Yeah.” She hugged her arms around herself. “Like a window splintering. I fell through. And now I’m here. Too early. Way too early.”

You tilted your head. “Too early for what?”

She looked at you, then at Bucky, and something softened in her expression. Like she knew the two of you better than you knew yourselves. Like there was something unspoken that pained her to keep secret.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she whispered, “I shouldn’t even be talking to you yet.”

FRIDAY’s voice interrupted gently. “Should I notify Director Fury?”

“No,” Bucky said sharply. Too quickly. Then he glanced at you. “…Not yet.”

The girl looked surprised. “You’re not sending me to a cell?”

You offered a faint smile. “We’re not monsters.”

“And you’re not dangerous,” Bucky added, quieter now. “At least not yet.”

She snorted. “Wow. Thanks, I guess.”

Wanda stepped closer, watching her closely. “You’re scared,” She murmured. “But you’re also… relieved. Why?”

The girl didn’t answer right away. She just looked back at the wall, where a photo of the original team hung in a dusty frame. After a long silence, she whispered, “Because I missed this. Seeing it again. Seeing you all… before everything changes.”

Her voice cracked on that last word. You saw it, just barely: the tension in her jaw, the sheen in her eyes she was trying to blink away.

“I can’t stay long,” She said, turning her face away like she didn’t want either of you to see the emotion creeping in. “So just… let me be here until the breach resets. Then I’ll be gone, and this’ll be nothing more than a strange footnote in someone’s mission report.”

You looked over at Bucky. His brow was furrowed, mouth slightly open like he had a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue but no idea how to ask any of them.

She noticed, smiled a little, sadly. “You always look like that when you’re overwhelmed.”

His lips parted, but she cut in quickly, raising a hand. “Nope. Not answering anything. I’m very good at not answering.”

A long silence settled between the three of you.

Then she yawned. A real one. Unfiltered. She rubbed her eyes like a kid, her exhaustion finally catching up.

“Can I… take a nap somewhere not surrounded by broken lab equipment?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”

Bucky’s voice was low. “You hungry?”

She paused, like she hadn’t considered that. “Kinda. Do you still make those-“ She caught herself. Froze. “…Never mind.”

But the warmth in her eyes didn’t fade. She didn’t say it. But it was already there, written in every look she gave the two of you:

She knew you. And she loved you both.

Even if she couldn’t say it.

The girl slept for twelve hours straight. You'd offered her the spare room near the east wing, technically meant for visiting guests, but it had soft blankets and a window view, which she seemed to appreciate.

You sat outside her door for most of the first hour, just in case she tried to run or vanished the way she arrived. But she didn’t.

Bucky checked in at least three times too, though he pretended he was just “walking by.”

When she finally emerged the next morning, hair sticking out in wild directions and wearing one of your old sweatshirts you’d left folded on the chair, she looked younger. More like a kid playing dress-up than a displaced anomaly from the future.

She padded into the kitchen barefoot and blinked at you, rubbing her eyes. “You’re making eggs.”

“Good morning to you too,” You said with a grin. “Hungry?”

“Starving.” She yawned and flopped down at the counter like she’d done it a hundred times.

Bucky entered a moment later, nodding to you both. “Morning.”

She perked up when she saw him, then quickly forced her face back into something neutral, like she’d caught herself.

You passed her a plate. “Toast, scrambled eggs, hash browns.”

She dug in immediately. “Thank you. Food here’s just as good as I remember- I mean, as I hoped it’d be.”

You bit back a smile. “Smooth.”

She glanced at Bucky nervously, but he didn’t press. He just poured himself coffee and sat across from her, watching her with quiet curiosity.

“So,” you said lightly, “What should we call you?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Call me…” She looked around the room, clearly stalling. “Jules?”

You tilted your head. “Is that your real name?”

“Nope.” She smiled a little too innocently. “Which makes it perfect.”

Bucky took a sip of coffee, eyes never leaving her. “Alright, Jules. Mind if we ask a few things?”

“As long as it’s not timeline-altering, catastrophic, or classified by future standards, maybe.”

You exchanged a glance with Bucky. “Okay,” You said slowly. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” She answered, mid-bite. “Chronologically. Time-wise… eh. Don’t ask.”

Bucky leaned forward slightly. “Do you have a family? In your… original timeline?”

Her chewing slowed just a little. Her expression flickered. Then she nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Silence fell again. After a moment, she added, “It’s… a big family. Messy. Loud. Someone’s always yelling, someone’s always drawing on the walls, and someone’s always pretending they didn’t start it.”

You smiled softly. “Siblings?”

She paused, eyes widening like she just realized what she said. “I didn’t—wait. That wasn’t—I mean—”

Bucky raised a brow. “You have siblings?”

She groaned and put her face in her hands. “Dang it.”

“How many?” You asked, voice careful.

She peeked through her fingers. “Three.” Then flopped back dramatically in her seat. “Ugh. I knew I’d slip up. You two are too nice. It’s disarming.”

Bucky chuckled quietly. “You don’t have to tell us anything else.”

“No, it’s fine,” she mumbled. “At this rate I’ll blurt out the entire family tree before lunch.”

“Do you like them?” You asked, curious.

A slow smile spread across her face. “Yeah. I love them. They're chaos. But the kind you miss when it's quiet.”

Bucky studied her like she was a riddle. “Are they older than you?”

She looked down at her plate. “Some. Some younger.”

And that was it. She shut down after that, turning her attention fully back to her breakfast. You let her. The moment felt like something private, like she’d tugged back a curtain for just a second and now needed it closed again.

But later, when she wandered into the rec room to find Alpine curled in a sunbeam, she sank to the floor and whispered something to the cat that made Bucky freeze in the doorway.

You didn’t catch the words. But you caught the tone: nostalgic, fond, like she’d said it a thousand times before.

And when Alpine, notoriously selective, climbed into her lap without hesitation, she just stroked her fur like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like she belonged.

The days that followed were strangely easy.

She, Jules, settled in like a half-remembered song. Not quite a stranger, not quite someone you knew, but comfortable. Familiar. You found her sitting on the kitchen counter in the mornings, legs swinging as she ate cereal straight from the box. You caught her once talking softly to FRIDAY, as if the AI were an old friend she’d grown up with.

Bucky never said much. But he was there. Quietly hovering, checking if she was eating enough, if she was sleeping okay. They started watching movies in the common room, not speaking much, but it was something. The space between them had stopped feeling like distance. It was anticipation now. Recognition.

And then there was the night Bucky found her on the roof.

You followed the scent of cold air and firewood up the metal stairs and found them sitting side by side, backs against the railing, stars overhead. Jules was hugging her knees, wearing one of Bucky’s jackets now. It was too big for her, sleeves past her fingertips. But she looked warm. Safe.

You stayed back, watching quietly from the door. Listening.

“I didn’t think I’d meet you like this,” She admitted softly. “This early. I wasn’t ready.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away. Just nodded once, slow and heavy.

“You remind me of her,” She glanced up at the stars. “Not just the way you look at people, but the way you don’t. The way you… hold back. Like you’re always waiting for someone to decide you’re worth staying for.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed. “And did they?”

She looked at him. “Mmm, maybe.”

He turned toward her. “Did I?”

There was a heartbeat’s pause before she whispered, “You never left.”

Then she flinched, realizing again what she’d said. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

But Bucky didn’t press. He didn’t need to.

The silence that followed was full of things neither of them could say.

You all started tiptoeing around the inevitable after that. Jules hadn’t poofed back yet, but every hour felt borrowed. She stopped sleeping as much. Kept checking corners for changes in the air. Listening for that hum she said she’d felt right before the breach opened.

On the fourth day, it happened.

You were in the kitchen, scrambling eggs again, same as the first day. She was mid-laugh, telling you something vague and harmless about a prank her “friend’s little brother” pulled once involving holograms and Steve’s shield. You didn’t even notice the shimmer at first.

Then Bucky’s face changed.

You turned and saw it. A distortion in the center of the room. Like heat rising off pavement, but colder. The air around it began to swirl. And her smile fell away.

“It’s happening,” She said quietly. Not surprised. Just… resigned.

“No.” You stepped forward. “Wait! We didn’t get to-“

“It’s okay,” She said, standing quickly. “It’s time. I knew I couldn’t stay long.”

Bucky took a step forward, fists clenched at his sides. “You said it would reset eventually. You didn’t say it would be this fast.”

She smiled at him, eyes glassy. “You never like goodbyes.”

You were about to speak, to say something, anything, but the light started pulling at her edges. Dust and static flickering around her limbs.

She looked at you both, eyes shining now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just… I wanted to see you. Before everything.”

“Before what?” You asked, your voice trembling. “What changes?”

But she only gave a tiny, knowing smile. And this time, she didn’t say anything else.

She just looked at Bucky one last time and softly said, “Don’t wait too long.”

And then she was gone. No flash, no thunder, just a breath pulled from the room. One second she was there. The next, empty air.

You stood frozen in place.

The bowl she’d left still sat on the table, cereal soggy in milk. Her mug still half full of cocoa. One of Alpine’s toys, she’d apparently been hoarding them in her pockets, sat on the floor near the couch, a little mouse with a frayed string tail.

Bucky picked it up slowly, didn’t say a word. You looked over at him and could see it in his face now, what she saw in him. The cracks. The strength beneath them.

Later that night, you and Bucky hadn’t said much since she vanished. There wasn’t much that needed saying. But the silence wasn’t empty anymore. It was full of what came next. Neither of you quite knew what the future held. But now, you both knew who it held. And someday sooner, maybe, than either of you thought, you’d meet her again; for the first time.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fic #thank you for the request!#thank you for the ask!#request fulfilled

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