#but i don’t wanna repeat the mistake without dunking on it and i’m not in the mood to dunk on it

[literallyaflame]

“the end goal of fiction is (of course) to collectively identify and consume only the good things. good stories make you a good person and bad stories make you a bad person” you guys literally sound like the 2nd grade teacher who told my mom not to let me read the golden compass

[antidisney]

@leam1983 said

A few points:

I'm pretty sure any functional adult knows they're being pandered to. Megacorps aren't anyone's friend, they're the carnival barker standing at the midway's entrance who's well aware that his advertised rides don't meet safety standards. If Disney cared, they wouldn't be in the business of making repeat sequels, much less merchandizing. If anyone of sound mind honestly thinks of any entertainment-related corp as a kind purveyor of japes and gambols, they're in for a rude awakening. As for kids, well... Experience tells me there isn't really any such thing as a product focused on children that doesn't come with one or two slightly skeevy details.

Point it out all you want, Walt's dead. The events you're decrying happened in the tail-end of the last World War. They've had an eternity to gussy up their image, and nobody in the current executive sphere has any relation to these events, nor any interest in dwelling on them. Time, sadly, is on Disney's side. That's without mentioning how generations of people have built up a lifetime of memories on their squeaky-clean persona and probably won't stand to let the proverbial old guard's admittedly very in-character mistakes for the Hollywood of the forties, fifties and early sixties define how people of the 2020s perceive the media entity.

What Disney enabled is horrible and deserves a place in the history books. Sadly, it's about as horrible as Shelly Duvall's treatment at the hands of Stanley Kubrick, or as scummy as Herman J. Mankiewicz' erasure at the hands of Orson Welles. It's one sordid file out of many, and I'm sure insiders could tell you the entire industry's only ever allowed for basic tokenism - especially considering how political Hollywood can actually get, even when it claims not to pick sides. That, in and of itself, suggests Driscoll won't get properly recognized, ever.

Dunking on the rat might be fun, if not sardonically funny - but you might as well dunk on John K of Ren and Stimpy fame, or Tex Avery, or Friz Freleng. I might as well dunk on Max Fleisher, who allowed the originally Black-coded Betty Boop to be whitewashed.

There's picking at the wound because it's funny, and then there's slashing at the Gordian knot to at least be proactive about things.

I don’t give a fuck if Walt’s dead. All the Disney Company does is celebrate that motherfucker. There’s a statue of him in both Disney Parks, the company is named after him, and they praise him and make shitty movies where Tom Hanks plays him.

If they wanna build so much of their image on his legacy, then I am going to constantly talk about the ugly parts of that legacy that they don’t want people to know. 

“Time is on Disney’s side” because they’ve been allowed to control the narrative. Why would you want to hand them the right to do that? Disney died in 1966. There are plenty of people personally effected by that man who are still alive. Not to mention those people’s children.

The idea that things that happened a long time ago don’t matter is stupid and the refusal to acknowledge that fact that Hollywood was built on child abuse is why children in Hollywood are still being abused.

Also, I literally dunked on John K like, 5 posts ago. I have no problem with it

[roxy-davenport]

Tricks-O-Matic

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Beta: @raspberrymama

Word Count: 2,653

A/N: This was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing’s SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge- Week 4 with the prompts, “You’re supposed to talk me out of it,” and a gif of a couple dancing in a laundromat. Fluff and humor, just go with it trust me. 

                            Also on AO3

You huffed out a breath. You hated doing laundry. It was the bane of your existence, so you always waited until the last minute when you were down to your last panty to do it. You literally couldn’t wait any longer.

You put your laundry in a shopper and wheeled it down the road to the laundromat ignoring the honks directed at you. Of course the bunker’s washer and dryer would break just when the boys left and gave you mountains of dirty clothes. Oh, what fun.

You sighed loudly when you were hit in the face with intensely hot air. Not only was it summer but the Laundromat was even hotter, if that were even possible. Who needs a sauna when you can just do laundry?

You slowly wheeled your mountain of clothes into the laundromat rather awkwardly might I add, nearly tipping over your entire mountain of clothes on the way in. God forbid someone else would be here to help open the door for you.

 In a way, having the Laundromat to yourself was kind of nice, if not slightly creepy. You imagined most people would be at jobs at ten in the morning, not half asleep needing to do laundry after discovering they were down to the last panty. Talk about a rude awakening.

You stepped in front of a washer yawning, happy to be doing busy work because doing nothing in the bunker but waiting for the boys to come back didn’t sound fun. In fact, if you were being honest, you had no idea what to do with yourself for a week alone in the bunker. Hello, boredom.

You quickly put everything in several washers spreading out a little bit as you slowly meandered over to the sorry excuse for chairs that looked as if they’d break the second you sat on them and even worse they were all bright orange to boot. They really matched the yellow wallpaper.

You were desperate for a distraction right now from the boring day you were bound to have. You looked at the magazines. As you guessed they were months behind, nothing good.

And that’s when the TV turned on, no remote in sight. A note fell off the TV as if a wind blew it but there was no wind. The note said, “Broken.” That made your spidey tense tingle. What the ever-living fuck was going on. You whirled around looking for the culprit. You didn’t smell sulfur or feel a cold chill run down your spine. You walked around the laundromat finding no cold spots. Okay, this was creepy. What was going on?

As if in response to your apprehension, the newscaster on the television program seemed to address your concerns. “No need to be afraid, sweet cheeks,” the news announcer said winking at you. There was only one person that called you that and the newscaster looked nothing like him. Eerie. The newscaster actually looked like an underwear model. That guy missed his calling.

 The emblem behind him said “Fenrir News.” Now that’s an unusual name. You were starting to have a distinct idea who might be doing this. The news announcer winked at you as if he knew that you knew.

 The news announcer was still looking at you clearly and not the teleprompter. “Before we get into the local news, there’s something I have to say: There is an epidemic sweeping our country with few solutions available. An epidemic of boredom. It’s a horrible condition that leaves the intended victim without the ability to have fun. I know, that sounds truly horrible. The victim is so bogged down by the inability to come up with or do anything fun they just lie there, frustrated. Take this amazing, beautiful woman watching. She’s stuck in a laundromat desperate for a little adventure. It kills me to know just how bored she is and even more upsetting that they didn’t take her on the hunt. That her besties benched her because she’s recovering from a wound on the last hunt. Not cool, right? Her besties sentenced her to a week of boredom. Sounds like they should have some payback when they return. Anywho, Y/N this one’s for you.”

There was white noise and a blank screen for only a moment when what looked like a commercial came on.

 A woman with a huge smile on her heavily makeuped face waved at the studio audience.

 “Hello there fellow hunters. Do you find yourself struggling to get out hunting stains? You try and try but you just can’t wash out the blood and monster guts? Am I right? Mmmhmm. I know. I’ve been there. It’s terrible but don’t worry I have the solution. Here is Tricks-O-Matic. And it really does the trick. You wanna see?”

 She holds up what looks like Dean’s shirt, the raspberry plaid shit you could have sworn you just put in the washer. You walked over to the washer and looked for the red shirt not finding it. Tons of greens, blues and blacks but no dark red plaid shirt. Huh.

 The woman in the commercial poured a very bright blue substance on it that had the consistency of paint. You shuddered to think what’s going to happen and how you would explain it to Dean. The second she put the substance on the shirt; she dunked the plaid shirt in water. Then she wrung it on a little and then held it up like a champion belt at a wrestling tournament.

 Of course the shirt was wet but there was no mistaking that the stain was in fact gone.

 “That’s right. One, two and gone. No matter the stain, Tricks-O-Matic will get it out. Tough on stains, gentle on your skin. So next time you’re leaving for a hunt remember Tricks-O-Matic. It really does the trick.”

You chuckled at that. Ridiculous the levels you boyfriend would go to, to entertain you but you had to admit, it was working. The commercial was clever and he did get out those monster guts for you that you were sure the washer never would. Dean would be quite impressed with you.

 The catch-phrase was pretty awesome. Tricks-O-Matic indeed.

The TV went blank again, white noise coming out of it for only a few seconds until a soap opera come on. The title flashed across the screen, “Angelic Lover.” Oh how very subtle right? That was your boyfriend, the archangel of subtle.

 A woman ran into the screen, her eyes puffy as if she was crying. “Luke?”

 A man that looked just as tall as Sam came onto the screen. “You should be with the angel,” he said in a gravely voice.

 “What? “You’re supposed to talk me out of it.” The woman said in a hitch-pitched and rather nervous tone. “You’re supposed to make me marry you. That’s what our parents want. You’ve lusted after me for years, now desperate to claim me as yours but you will never have me.”

 “How can you be sure I’m Luke?” the man asked with a quirked eyebrow smiling at her.

 “Who are you then?” the woman asked apprehensively as she slowly stepped away from him.

“Can you not recognize the man you love? I am your angel, my darling,” the man confirmed, his arms outstretched.

“But you -.”

“Have the face of your enemy, I know. I got a face transplant to break into the mansion and get past the guards but it is I, my love. I killed your enemy. He is no more.”

The man took off his face revealing a completely different man. The studio audience went wild. As did the woman. She fainted into his arms, waking up a minute later. He looked down at her adoringly.

“It is you,” she said in a soft voice.

“It is me,” he repeated.

She looked at him again, growing nervous. It couldn’t be. She slowly stepped away from the man. “No. That’s not possible. We can’t be together. I’m a human. You can’t possibly love me.”

“But I do.”

“You do?” she asked incredulously.

“I do,” he confirmed.

“But what of my friends?” Gasp. “They…They…will not let us be happy. My father will never rest until you are dead. You must leave. We can never be together. We’re from two different worlds. We don’t belong together.”

“But we could.”

“Could we? Could we really?”

“Yes.” The man then grabbed the woman and kissed her passionately on the lips. She swooned and her legs fell out from under her before she fainted again into his arms.

You rolled your eyes. “A tad dramatic, no?”

The TV went blank again and then what looked like men playing a game of basketball outside came into focus. One of the players stopped playing and stepped up to the camera. The rest of the players were fuzzy and out of focus.

 “Dramatic is better than being bored and you know what else is better than being bored? Taking twice daily Baldur. It cures the boredom right up so I can get back to doing what I love doing like playing ball.”

The commercial faded out as the men played basketball in the background. A list of side effects came onto the screen. Some caught your attention such as; intensive farting, love of anchovies, need for kinky sex, need for the Trickster, a deep yen to prank others, acid reflux, vomiting negativity, becoming more awesome, so awesome in fact that you can’t hang out with people wearing plaid. That had you laughing. You were sure who it was now.

You glanced at the washer. Time to add more soap. The TV went blank as you put more soap in. You had to admit that this was making you happy and a lot less bored. You loved being with Gabriel and was hoping he would be able to visit you when the boys were away. The silence was deafening and you missed his assortment of entertainment. Sure enough, the second you sat back down, the TV came on again.

A black and white program came on called, “Tricked,” but the actors looked like the same ones that were on the TV show “Bewitched.”

“My friends will be here soon. No powers okay. You promised.”

“Of course I’ll be on my best behavior,” the man stated holding his hands up.

“Why don’t I believe that?” she said in a grumpy tone.

Smirking he replied, “I don’t know. I have an incredibly believable face.”

“Mmm hmmm.” The woman opened the door and she found two dogs on the doorstep.

“Your friends weren’t already dogs? Maybe they never showed and they sent dogs instead? Strays?”

 The woman turned around and glared at him. He simply shrugged. “It beats them wearing plaid all the time. This is a new look for them and besides, they always ruin my fun and all I want is to-“

The screen went blank again. Talk about a cliffhanger.

An announcer came on waving at a studio audience that was clapping wildly. “Welcome to Dance Wars: Laundromat. We have Y/N and Gabriel, returning champions. Can they keep the throne? You’ll have to tune in and watch.”

 You looked at the TV confused. You felt a shift in the air behind you and then what felt like a gentle kiss placed on the back of your neck. You jumped and he laughed a warm laugh. His breath fanned over the back of your neck.

“Did you really not guess it was me? I mean I thought I was being pretty obvious. I’m kind of offended. Who else would dedicate all this time to making you smile? Fenrir and Baldur? Hello? Trickster? Loki myth.”

You smirked. “I knew it was you from the beginning. From those clues.”

“Aren’t you clever cupcake?” Gabriel grabbed you around the waist, rutting against you, pressing his hard cock against your ass. “How am I doing about making your day better? I thought I heard laughter and I definitely saw smiles.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job as always.”

Gabriel twirled you around and brought you back into his waiting arms and then out of nowhere swing music appeared and you danced around the laundromat.

 A customer tried to come in to wash their clothes and saw you both dancing. He tried the door but it was locked. You gave Gabriel a look.

 “This is our time,” he pleaded with you.

 You rolled your eyes. “We have all day; and if you’re free, all week. Let the poor man wash his clothes?”

 Gabriel sulked.

 On the next twirl, you spun away from him, unlocking the door and spinning back into his arms. Gabriel’s frown only intensified. He dipped you and gently ran his hand down your face to your collarbone. You let out a shaky breath at the tender touch. He righted you and grabbed you closer to him as he kissed you passionately. You chose to ignore the customer who looked at you both uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you call for me?” Gabriel implored.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling silly. You should have called. “You’re an angel. One that’s trying to keep a low radar and you have angel stuff to do that is definitely more important than preventing a human from being bored.”

“No. Okay yes. I am trying to hideout. Dear old Dad and Luci need to think I’m dead. I plan on staying out of the whole epic battle. And yeah there may be some angel tasks and just desserts I have to attend to from time to time, but you and only you are the most important thing to me sweet cheeks. No angel business is more important than the love of my life. Anytime you want me, please let me know. If I could, I would never let you go. But I know you love the Winchesters and you hunt. I know but I would want to be with you every second, if I could. And hello Trickster here: curing boredom is kinda my speciality. “

“Can you forgive me?”

“Always.”

The random dude in the laundromat was eyeing you two weirdly. Did he hear your conversation or did he just see the massive amounts of PDA? Whatever the reason, you pushed on Gabriel’s chest to release you from his arms. He disconnected with you slowly after a lingering glance. You slowly took out mountain of clothes from all the washers. Gabriel proceeded to grumble behind you.

Gabriel whispered into your ear, “That guy there will never know. He’s not even watching us right now. Why can’t I just snap my-.”

“He’s giving us side-eye. He is most definitely still watching us. Why not show him you have magical abilities? Why could possibly go wrong?”

“I’m sensing sarcasm in your tone.”

You smirked back at your boyfriend. “Hey, I have an idea - why don’t you just turn him into a dog?”

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

 You shook your head at your boyfriend and slowly left the laundromat. Gabriel happily held open the door for you. The second that you were clear, no one on the road and the man from the laundromat couldn’t see you, Gabriel snapped his fingers and you got back to the bunker with all the clothes there, clean, dry and in everyone’s respective drawers. You looked down to see the both of you naked.

“I might have another idea on what to do to cure boredom.” Gabriel said in a playful tone

“Do you now?” you asked in a seductive tone.

“How long are the boys away?”

“A week.”

Gabriel’s smile was huge. “We could fit in a lot in a week.”

“Well, what are you waiting for tiger? Come get your girl.” He pounced on you like a lion and you squealed and giggled when he tackled you to the bed. A week with Gabe never sounded better.

Tagging

Forevers @purgatoan @killerofthesouth @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @everyday-supernatural-af @kalliravenne @toogardenenthusiast @winchesterprincessbride @one-shots-supernatural @take-me-tonirvana @hellsmother @ellen-reincarnated1967 @faegal04 @deals-with-demons @mamaredd123 @atc74 @hamartiamacguffin @donnaintx @love-kittykat21 @impala-dreamer @evansrogerskitten @lucifer-in-leather @hiswickedkitty @riversong-sam @rosie-winchester

Gabe peeps  @manawhaat, @bkwrm523, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @deathtonormalcy56, @for-the-love-of-dean, @jelly-beans-and-gstrings, @deansleather, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @mrswhozeewhatsis, @ilovedean-spn2, @wi-deangirl77, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @fandommaniacx, @revwinchester, @oldfashioncdvillain, @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell, @castieltrash1, @mysaintsasinner, @bohowitch, @vintagevalentinexx, @thinkwritexpress-official @deals-with-demons, @bowtiesandapplepie, @itsemmyb, @crzcorgi, @deerlululucy, @mrsjohnsmith, @growleytria, @sleep-silent-angel @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @thegleegeneration, @babypieandwhiskey @supermoonpanda, @sis-tafics, @kittenofdoomage, @lilyoflothlorien, @ferferelli, @ackleslaugh, @curliesallovertheplace, @trenchcoats-and-bees, @katnharper, @winchester-princess @notnaturalanahi, @skybinx-blog, @thebunkerismyhome, @feelmyroarrrr, @tia58, @winchesterswoonathon, @castiels-forbidden-angel, @jotink78 @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave, @wayward-mirage, @hexparker, @alangel1895

[teachingoutsidethebinary]

Absolutely Anything

Summary: Y/N Stark lost her leg in a car accident as a teen. Her boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, helps her dad design a new prosthetic. To celebrate, they head to the beach, where some of Y/N’s insecurities resurface. Bucky decides to help Y/N beat her self-doubt by facing some of his own fears.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark, Reader

Warnings: mentions of a car accident, insecurities, an insane amount of teeth-rotting fluff

Word count: 2063

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt @fuckkoffcourtney !!! I hope I did it justice!

One Shot Masterlist

Bucky carefully guided you down the steps to your father’s lab with his hands covering your eyes. His heart was pounding in anticipation with each tap of your shoes on the metal staircase. When you both finally reached the bottom, Tony Stark was waiting bouncing with excitement.

“Okay, doll, open your eyes,” Bucky said, excitement filling his voice.

“Um, Bucky? You kinda need to take your hands off my face first,” you replied, cheekily.

“Oh, right!” Bucky fumbled. He removed his shaky hands and you found yourself staring at a metal leg.

“What’s this?” you asked, turning between Bucky and Tony.

“Well, honey,” Tony replied, “you’ve been complaining about your prosthetic for months now, so I made you a new one.”

You gasped and covered your mouth with both hands. A horrific car accident had left you short a leg when you were a teenager, and you had been struggling to find a prosthetic that could keep up with the demands of your job as an Avenger.

You walked over and carefully examined the leg. It was a sleek silver, and it had metal plates running down the entire length. It almost reminded you of…

“Is this vibranium?” you asked Bucky. “Like your arm?”

Bucky nodded shyly. “Do you like it?”

You traced your fingers over the smooth, cool metal and grinned. “I love it,” you answered confidently.

“Buckaroo here let me scan his arm to help me make the prototype,” your dad informed you. “So congrats! You match!”

“And this’ll hold up in the field?” you asked, skipping right from sentiment to practicality. “I mean, it looks amazing, but will it last longer than this one?” You pointed to your jean-covered plastic prosthetic leg.

“Will it hold up?” Tony scoffed. “Of course it will! I built it!”

You stared at Tony blankley and blinked several times. “Let me ask again-”

“Yes, it will hold up!” Tony replied, exasperatedly. “My god, I know how to invent things.”

“Just checking!” you said. “Remember that one time you SWORE those propulsion boosters wouldn’t melt the plastic from my last leg?”

“One time!” Tony exclaimed. “I make a mistake ONE time and you can’t let it go, can you?” You both smiled at each other, and Bucky knows all of your comments are said with love.

“So you like it, doll?” Bucky asks, bringing your attention back to the matter at hand. “You really like it?”

You walked over to Bucky and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love it,” you repeated. “And I love that it came from a part of you.” You pulled him in for a kiss, and you were both lost in the heat of the moment, much to Tony’s dismay.

“Ew, gross. Mushy,” he groaned, making his way back up the stairs. “No sex in the lab!” he called before disappearing completely.

You giggled as you broke the kiss. Walking over to your new leg, you picked it up off the stand.

“So what do you say we test out the flexibility of my new leg?” you asked, quirking a suggestive eyebrow up at Bucky. You waved your leg a bit and got a chuckle out of him.

“Actually, I have a better idea,” he countered. “Let’s go to the beach.”

“The beach?” you asked. “Why the beach?”

“What better way to celebrate your new leg than with a little relaxation?” he replied, taking one of your hands in his. “Plus, it’s been forever since I’ve been to one,” he added.

You carefully considered his offer, and nodded your consent. A break did sound nice. Bucky beamed, and you were certain his smile was going to crack his face in half.

Talking about going to the beach and actually going to the beach were two different stories. You had barely managed to switch out your legs before an alarm about an Avengers mission blared through the compound. Thankfully, your dad had been right, and your leg was fantastic in battle. Not only did it help you run a bit faster, but it could handle a heck of a lot more impact that your old leg.

The second time you tried to get to the beach, a tropical storm raged through New York, making it impossible to get out of the city. You and Bucky spent the night putting your leg through other...rigorous tests. You were both pleased to find out that it held up just fine.

A few months later, it appeared that the third time was the charm. You and Bucky arrived at the beach with a cooler full of food and an umbrella big enough to provide shade for the entire city of Manhattan.

When it came time to get out of the car, though, you hesitated.

“This is going to be awesome, doll,” Bucky gushed as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “We couldn’t have asked for a better day!”

“Uh huh,” you nodded, absently, staring at the beachgoers who had already gathered on the sandy shore.

Everywhere you turned, it seemed like all you saw were gorgeous women in string bikinis without a blemish, or metal leg, in sight. Confidence in your body had never been a huge issue, even after your car accident. But your old prosthetics had blended a bit more, and this one was so...shiny. Despite having a Stark personality, you were never one to really enjoy the spotlight, and you were basically going to be drawing attention to yourself like a super-sized magnet. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe-

“Doll, I can practically hear the gears in your head turning,” Bucky said, interrupting your thoughts. “What’re you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “I’ll get the cooler.” You went to open the car door, but Bucky locked it before you could even pull on the handle. You sighed and looked at Bucky. “You know, in order to get to the beach, I kind of need to be able to leave the car, love.”

Bucky ignored your sass and continued to stare at you expectantly. He didn’t need to say a word, and you soon crumbled under his intense gaze.

“Ugh, fine!” you finally exclaimed. “I’m nervous, alright?”

Bucky tilted his head. “Nervous?” he asked. “About what?”

You swallowed and looked down at your hands. “I just...I don’t show off my leg that much. I’m nervous that people will stare.”

It was true. You had always been one to opt for wearing jeans or pants whenever you went out. You wanted people to see you more for who you were as a person, and not for what you had on your body.

Bucky was silent for a few moments, and you were afraid you had offended him. You knew how self-conscious he was about his arm.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’ll take off mine, if you take off yours.” His eyes shined with a bit of nervous excitement, and you couldn’t help but stare at him.

“You’d take off your shirt?” you asked, uncertainly. “For me?”

Bucky leaned across the seat and kissed you chastely on the lips. “I would do absolutely anything for you, doll,” he whispered. His gaze flicked up to yours, and you almost combusted from the look of complete adoration you saw staring back at you. You kissed him again with more intensity, and your hands wandered down to the hem of his shirt.

“Um, doll,” he said between kisses. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just helping you take your shirt off,” you replied innocently as you peppered his neck with soft kisses.

Bucky groaned and banged his head against the back of the seat. “You are going to be the death of me,” he chuckled.

You winked and pulled your pants off to reveal your polka dot bikini and silver prosthetic. “Shall we?” you asked.

Bucky yanked the shirt over his head and tossed it in the back seat, his arm on full display. “We shall,” he grinned.

The sun was high in the afternoon sky as you and Bucky dragged your supplies across the sand. A few people stared as you scouted out the perfect spot, but you both kept yourself distracted by threatening to dunk each other in the ocean once you were unpacked. You finally settled on a spot in the middle of the beach fairly close to the water.

“Make sure you secure the umbrella,” you instructed as you laid out the blanket. “We don’t need it blowing away on us.”

“I’ve got this,” Bucky replied, using the force of his arm to jam the umbrella in the ground.

You giggled and spread out on the towel. The warm sun felt amazing on your skin, and you could feel the stress from the car melt away. You sighed and opened your eyes to find Bucky staring down at you.

“Water?”

“Water,” you confirmed, nodding your head. You bolted off the blanket, yelping as Bucky picked you up and barreled into the ocean with you on his shoulder. You spent almost an hour splashing, making out, and just floating in the waves. You couldn’t remember the last time you had had this much fun. All of your insecurities has disappeared by the time you walked back to the blanket for lunch. You stretched your leg out proudly as you munched on the sandwiches you had packed earlier this morning.

“You doing okay?” Bucky asked, pulling you close against him. You knew the double meaning behind his question, and there was no hesitation in your answer.

“I’m having an amazing time,” you answered, honestly. “Thank you.”

You were about to lean in for a kiss when a small voice interrupted you.

“Excuse me?”

You and Bucky both looked up to find a little boy standing at the edge of your blanket. He wore bright blue swim trunks with dinosaurs on them, and he couldn’t have been more than seven years old. He held both arms behind his back and teetered back and forth on his tip toes.

“Hi there!” Bucky said, cheerfully. “Do you need help?”

The boy shook his head shyly. “I just wanna show you something,” he said in a small voice.

You raised your eyebrows at Bucky before sitting up. “Okay,” you replied, not sure where this was going. “Go for it.”

The boy looked over his shoulder, and you saw a woman, who you guessed was his mom, giving him a thumbs up. He took a deep breath and whipped his hands out from behind him. You gasped when you saw his a red and gold prosthetic arm where his right arm should have been. You had no idea how to respond, but thankfully, Bucky had your back.

“That is so cool!” he exclaimed. “You have an arm just like me!” He waved his metal arm at the boy, who giggled in response.

“I was nervous about comin’ here ‘cause sometimes people stare,” he said. “But then I saw your arm and leg and I wasn’t nervous no more.”

You choked back tears and smiled at the boy. “I was nervous too,” you admitted.

His eyes widened with shock. “Really?” he gasped. You nodded. “But you’re not nervous now?” he asked.

You shook your head. “It’s a part of me, and I like who I am. So there’s no reason to be nervous.” You paused and intertwined your fingers with Bucky’s. “Thank you so much for showing us,” you added. “My dad’s favorite colors are red and gold, you know.

“Cool,” the boy whispered in awe. He waved at you and Bucky one last time. “Bye!” he called as he ran back to his mom. She gathered him in her arms and squeezed tight. She mouthed a teary “thank you” to you and Bucky before leading her son to the water.

Bucky looked at you proudly as you watched them play in the ocean. You were his rock, his everything, and he couldn’t imagine his life without you. You made each other better people, and he liked the person he was around you. He wanted to give you the world.

Without disturbing you, he reached for the small black box he had hidden in the cooler earlier this morning. He took a deep breath as he prepared to show you just how much he wanted to do for you for the rest of your lives.

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