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Her hand froze mid-air, the proffered bracelet left hanging in anticipation of her acceptance, her intended all but forgotten where he stood across from her. Phebo had heard it too, looking down at the crowd aghast; even if Thor hadn't been loud his voice still managed to carry through the noise around them.

"Saifa," he said, waving the bracelet in an attempt to reclaim her attention. He was obviously concerned with this distraction, with the interloper who had stolen his bride's attention. "Do you accept?"

She ignored him completely, brushing away his hand when he reached for her. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Thor, and she looked...

Furious. There was no mistaking it. The crowd parted for her, all of them visibly unsettled by the emotion writ plain on the face of the normally-stoic hunter.

"Who are you?" she demanded, stopping less than an arm's length from Thor and reaching out to curl her fist into the front of his shirt. Peter exclaimed a small 'whoa!' from nearby, the commotion jostling him slightly.

"Where have you been?"

An odd follow-up question, perhaps, but from this distance Thor would be able to see the tears welling in her eyes. She didn't know him, perhaps, but she remembered golden hair glinting in the sun and a booming voice, so rich and warm. Nothing distinct, mind, but the impression of it was so strong and it made her angrier than she could recall having ever been.

Why? Why was she this angry with someone she'd never even met before? Why couldn't she breathe, looking up into those electric blue eyes? Why did she want to punch him? More importantly, why did she want to kiss him?

"Where have you been?" she asked again as hot tears streaked down her cheeks.

[ ϟ ]—– ' It's a party. Locals say it's awesome, big bonfire, free food, free drinks.'

Rocket's words were expelled in familiar, goading tone, and thunderer could hear the glee beneath the gruffness there, the promise of booze and distraction lighting a spark behind those beady black eyes.

' Sounds like a fantastic break to me Big Guy, and you need a break.'

Gazing towards the distant hills, where dusk had begun to spill amber and crimson hues across the low-slung clouds thunderer noted the faint scent of woodsmoke drifting on the breeze. The aroma curled around his senses like a memory he could almost place, and for the first time in what felt like ages the ache in his shoulders did not stem from battle, yet from a desire for something calm.

' Very well,' and the agreement comes with a faint nod, and something akin to approval in the warm bass.

------

The village was a modest sprawl of timber and stone, nestled like a secret between forest and river. Within the air here hung the sharp and clean tang of pine, of sweet fermenting fruit, and laughter spilled out of everyone present, strangers met with nods and raised cups in welcome.

The god could not remember the last time he had stood among a crowd like this, simply as a man, unknown yet still embraced in a joyous event.

Joy that dwindled swiftly; even before he saw her, he felt her, the way a blade knows its sheath, the way a storm knows the swell of the sea, Seidr within blood jolting when it came close to its counterpart.

A flicker in the crowd, a ripple in the tapestry of the world that gone yet still tugged at him so fiercely his breath caught halfway up his throat.

Standing near the fire, hair glinting with silver and flame, she was a figure carved out of shadow and starlight, impossibly present. The god's eyes devoured her, the straightness of her spine, the quiet watchfulness in her gaze, tilt of chin that struck like a bell rung long ago in the halls of Asgard.

The god could not even breathe, let alone speak her name, it was impossible...

Sif had perished, he had felt her absence in the shattering of the Bifrost and the bones of their world, had mourned her in silence, laid the memory of her laughter to rest in the hollow where heart once pulsed loud and full.

And yet, and yet...

Vision narrowed, noises falling away as his pulse thundered now at rapid speed in his ears, feet moving before his mind did. Carrying him forward through the crowd, past revelers and musicians and children with flower-crowns in their hair his body surged more than it walked.

' Oh hey, Thor, buddy! What the-'

' Sif! '

It was not calling out, nothing loud and thunderous, yet a reverent and raw expressing of a name that was made audible enough from sheer desperation.

Finally halting there was no blink, ceruleans fixed upon her eyes, broad frame rooted in tall and immovable stance only a few feet away.

[wavellites]

When Nat broke the kiss to look at Bucky with a clear question in her eyes, Steve took a glance of his own, and he wasn't disappointed with what he saw. He'd anticipated Bucky's reaction, but the confirmation that he'd been right was a relief. He didn't want to drive a wedge between lovers, but if both of them were okay with him becoming intimate with one half of the pair then it only made sense to him that it'd be all right to engage the other half as well. Nat pushing him in Bucky's direction felt to him like permission be with her as well, though she clearly hadn't expected him to jump to that conclusion.

Or maybe he was just being drunk and stupid. It was definitely one of those two things, for sure. Maybe both, though his metabolism was already burning through the Asgardian alcohol, leaving the 'drunk' part of the excuse less and less viable. Just stupid, then. Bucky would agree.

Having kissed them both now, Steve felt a surge of contentment, gathering the both of them into his arms. It just felt right to have them both there, for all three of them to be parts of this equation instead of teetering on some scale trying to find balance with just two. Their friends would understand, surely, and beyond that, no one else needed an explanation.

"I don't have any inspiring speeches up my sleeve," Steve said at length, his arms slung tight around their waists. "I just love you guys a lot. However you want that to look between us is fine with me. I'm happy if you're both happy."

@70yearsofwinter @xlianovna

✘ ⌖ ➶ As the kiss between two best friends deepened, Natasha found herself positively beaming. She took a small step back, giving the men the space they needed to wrap each other up. Her love for James was deep and well tested over many decades. It wasn't about to diminish, nor did she feel even an inkling of jealousy. She could tell by the kiss that both Steve and Bucky had needed it more than either would admit. They both had been through trials and tribulations that no human should stand to endure, and she was glad to see them finally find some happiness. It was long overdue and well deserved.

Seeing the mead bottle in James's hand, the redhead went to gently take it from him. She had already set hers down and it looked like he had use for both hands, not understanding that he was purposely keeping the metal away from Steve. Before she could take it, though, the unexpected happened.

She caught a gaze of blue eyes for just a moment, a gaze of heady, deep cerulean, before her own lips were captured. The redhead froze for the briefest of moments, but even that would be an accomplishment for anyone to boast about. Not many could say they took the Black Widow by surprise. The kiss was almost familiar, harkening back to a moment on an escalator years prior, but it quickly turned into something more. Muscles melted as Natasha felt herself give in to Steve. Of course she knew that her friend was an insanely handsome man. A good man. But had she felt this way about him? It wasn't an answer Natasha could have given easily, but that fact had nothing to do with how she actually felt.

Love wasn't something that came easy for the former Soviet spy and assassin. People didn't love her, they used her. That was a truth she had ingrained into her brain at a young age, and a truth that experience solidified. James was an anomaly. He was special, and someone very dear to her. To find someone that could see the real woman under the training and the hardness and the illusions was a near miracle. It never occurred to her that there might actually be another person in the world who could love her, but as Steve deepened the kiss, that was the only word on her mind. Love.

It was her that eventually broke the kiss. Swollen lips remained parted in surprise as her eyes moved between the two men before settling on the blond. "Steve?" Once again, she looked to James, trying to read his expression. This wasn't part of the plan. How would he feel?

➶ @70yearsofwinter | @wavellites

[wavellites]

Sif & Thor

Immortal Thor (2023) #20

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Lady Sif in Thor The Dark World (2013)

@comicedit women in comics: Week 4 → Favourite underrated woman.

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Katheryn Winnick

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Lady Sif of Asgard was dead.

That was the assumption, anyway, and Asgard itself was little more than chunks of metal and stone floating in the vacuum of space, slowly drifting away from that singular point that had once been the realm eternal. No records remained of the grueling, perilous missions 'Odin' assigned to her, or of the order he gave to replace Heimdall as the guardian of the Bifrost and bar her return.

No records existed of her homeward trek, of pieces of gear pawned off to afford food and shelter as she hitchhiked her way across the cosmos only to find that Ragnarok had come and gone and she'd missed it completely.

No, Sif was dead and only Saifa remained.

Saifa was a hunter who lived in a cottage at the edge of the woods ever since she'd recovered from the crash landing that had left her memories as little more than echoes of raucous laughter and the scraping sounds of metal against metal. She hunted down the beasts that no one else dared to face and sold their skins and claws and bones in the larger city a few hours' walk east where offworld ships would dock to trade every once in a while.

It was a meager existence but she couldn't remember any other way of life, and if she'd once had somewhere to be it didn't seem to matter much anymore. It would matter even less after today--she was getting engaged, after all.

Phebo, the son of the town's elder, had taken a liking to her during her convalescence, even picking a name for her when she couldn't remember her own. That had been years ago, by this point, and he'd pursued her aggressively since then. She didn't love him, nor was she particularly excited at the prospect of marrying him, but he'd asked her a dozen times and she'd run of reasons to reject him other than simply preferring solitude.

Now, the town was decorated in flowers and her hair was braided with silver beads that glittered in the late-afternoon sun. A bonfire had been built and music played in the streets, food and wine offered freely to all present; even visitors from the city had come out to enjoy the festivities. She watched it all impassively. This celebration wasn't about her. Not really.

Later, against the backdrop of the setting sun, Phebo reached for her hand in front of their gathered community and held a gold bangle aloft for them to see, promising to care for her and protect her in their future marriage. All she had to do was accept the bracelet from him and the promise would be sealed, but she hesitated, glancing one last time into the assembly, searching the faces in the crowd for... something. Someone. She didn't know.

@asgardianhammer

[wavellites]

hey guys, I've been a little slow for a while now because I've been traveling internationally for the last two-ish weeks. I'm back home safe and sound now, so you can hmu via pm if you want to plot anything, or ask for my discord. :)

[wavellites]

Look, she still thought he needed to go to a hospital, but yeah, that wasn't a fight she wanted to have with him because she'd been down that road before. If he could survive a fall off her building and climb up the stairs with a knife in his leg, he would probably be okay for as long as it took her to do what she could for him.

"Don't apologize," she said. "Just sit tight. I'm going to help you out of the extra layers so I can see how bad the damage is."

She'd have to do more than that. His clothes were ruined, and some of it would need to be cut off in pieces. Before that, though, she shot off a quick text to Matt.

Another bleeding hero type just landed on my couch. Looks like the person he was fighting got away, so I don't think I'm in danger. Just wanted someone else who understands to know.

Then it was back to business.

His jacket was the first thing to go, cut away with a strong pair of scissors meant just for that purpose. Claire's suspicion about the left arm was confirmed--it glinted with a metallic sheen in the ambient light of her living room. Fascinating as that was, her priority was checking his wounds; he'd been shot multiple times, and upon further examination, there was a bullet still lodged in his skin and the muscles of his torso. That would need to be extracted, as would the knife.

Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.

Claire was a professional, though, doing her best to work on him without hurting him. She cut off the leg of his pants before removing the knife, compressing and stitching up the wound. She disinfected everything, bandaged him up, and once that was all as good as it could get, she offered him a sandwich and a glass of juice.

"Can you eat?"

@70yearsofwinter

ㅤIt was really for the best that she wasn't fast enough to try to catch him, because the only 'softening his blow' she could have done would have been if he took her down with him. He was heavier than he looked and besides the metal arm, she'd likely be figuring out why when she started digging around. At least his arm helped identify him enough that she wasn't paranoid about bringing him inside, though the unfortunate truth to that was that he didn't feel much like himself right then. Too fried, too confused, but he could do what she asked. That came easy right after electricity, especially when he was too hurt to fight well.

ㅤHe was too hurt to fight well right about then. She tugged his right arm over her shoulder and later on he'd get it - most people were either cautious or fascinated by the metal arm, but right then it just posed a problem for him trying to help her get him on his feet. His left arm felt like mostly dead weight, offering just enough movement and support to disappoint him when it gave out quickly after, so it took two tries to do as she'd told him in getting up, but that was the hardest part.

ㅤOnce he was on his feet, she helped his balance enough to stumble up the stairs very slowly and very painfully. For someone as good at tuning out pain as he could be, that was really what made this so impressively bad, because the nerves that weren't completely dead (and which would be healing and painfully resetting) were damaged and letting him know, and across far more of his shoulders and torso than one might expect. It made the mess on his left side from the bullets almost trivial in comparison.

ㅤIt was arguable how much he'd have remembered of the stairwells up or sitting at the table for that moment while she covered the couch, but he sure as hell noticed when he had to move again. He gave a pained grunt, swallowing down anything worse, but there wasn't really anything 'easy' about doing it. They managed, he was temporarily seated in a mostly upright position, just focusing on catching his breath and trying to get some kind of handle on his shit. The arm was still mostly useless - he'd tried to use it to help ease himself down automatically and it was a failure again, but he'd still made it. "Sorry." It was really all he had and it came out low and unsteady, but if she was a nurse and going to patch him up, he apparently didn't need to have the 'no hospitals' fight that she'd be all too familiar with. At least in his case, it wasn't for legal reasons like the vigilantes - he just hated hospitals.

[wavellites]

"Whoa, whoa! Take it easy."

Claire wasn't thrilled when her newest patient lurched up to his feet only to topple over again, wasn't fast enough to try and catch him to soften his fall. The sound of metal made a little more sense now--it was his whole arm. A metal arm. Jesus.

That helped her identify him, anyway. She'd seen that face on the news, heard about him enough to realize this was Bucky Barnes. That was good, right? He was one of the good guys, his name having been cleared after he escaped from HYDRA's clutches. Meaning it was safe enough to bring him into her home, just like she'd done with Matt those years ago.

"Come on, big guy, let me help you," she said, reaching out again to slide her arm gingerly around his torso, helping him to drape his over her shoulders so she could help lug him up the stairs one painful step at a time.

It felt like an eternity limping up the stairwell, hoping no one would choose that moment to be nosy. This felt like a very delicate situation. Mercifully, no one poked their heads out or peeked at her through cracked doors. Her apartment door was still unlocked, so she guided him in and sat him down at her table long enough to cover her couch in towels to keep his blood from seeping directly into the cushions.

"Easy does it," she said as she moved him. "I've got you, okay? I'm a nurse. I'm gonna patch you up." She was also going to figure out who to call about this--surely someone would be missing him soon, right?

@70yearsofwinter

ㅤThere were vigilante types in the city who could have made that fall look a lot more graceful than Bucky had, but he wasn't Steve Rogers or Daredevil or Spider-Man, and while he could absolutely look graceful at times, falling was almost never one of those. He'd been there and done that far too many times, but at least he had a long-running record of surviving those falls, despite the way it looked when his unexpected good samaritan appeared in the alley in her robe and pajamas. He wasn't judging, partially because his consciousness had slipped out for a bit and he would have just laid there until he could pick himself back up if she hadn't come upon him. At home with pajamas and the cat in bed sounded like a much better time than what he currently had going for him in that alley.

ㅤHe was still breathing, so that was working in his favor, though consciousness was iffy right about then. He reacted to the light when she peeled his eyelids back to check, flinching from it (and her) like he expected worse than a penlight and a nurse in pajamas (he did), but he didn't get very far. His knife was still stuck out of his right thigh despite the way the electricity had arced off of it and the fall itself, so that leg collapsed underneath him as soon as he tried pitching himself onto it, and then his left arm failed to catch him with that same awful metallic scraping sound. His nerves were fried - likely both literally and figuratively, but it was the literal part that seemed to be a problem. Either his brain wasn't getting messages to the machine bits properly because of the electricity or they were malfunctioning (possibly both), and it left him barely upright enough to be supporting himself on his knees to catch his breath.

ㅤShe was talking, or had been? He sucked in a harsh breath because everything hurt, but he'd dealt with worse and he could push through. He nodded a little like he'd been listening (he hadn't), leaned a little like he was considering the knife and opted out of messing with that right away, and instead pressed his trembling right hand to his left side, not really certain what he was going to find besides blood and more pain, but without ditching his coat and shirt, he wasn't likely to figure out how bad that was. He didn't think anything would have gone through, or he'd be in more pain, but the electrocution had been so intense that he wasn't exactly thinking clearly.

ㅤAt that point, he'd have just found a place to crash wherever he could drag himself, so he wasn't to be trusted making any decisions for himself. Lucky for him, someone with more active braincells to rub together was present, and he was conscious enough not to be dead weight on the pavement of an alley. It was all he really had to offer.

[wavellites]

Look, he was starting small because he didn't want to make a big move and scare Bucky away, but he really shouldn't have worried about that. The response was immediate and emphatic, and Steve responded in kind, holding Bucky in a grip that could probably crush a normal person. Their kiss was all hunger, teeth and tongues and decades of longing and denial, of loss and reconciliation all wrapped into one physical interaction. This was everything he'd wanted to do so long ago but had never allowed himself to consider, to bid Bucky farewell with a kiss on the eve of his departure for the front, or when he found him again in that HYDRA base, or when they were reunited after Bucky regained his memories. It was a long time coming, in short.

Even in all of that, Steve hadn't forgotten that Natasha was there, too. He squeezed her hand tenderly, not wanting her to try and slip away. This was also her moment, even if she didn't realize it yet.

With the eventual parting of lips (plus one more slightly less intense kiss for good measure), Steve turned his eyes to Natasha. There wasn't any hesitation now that the proverbial ice had been broken--he dipped his head to catch her next, kissing her in a way he hoped would quell her doubt about his abilities. Maybe it was greedy for him to want them both, but Steve had never asked for much in his life. If he could just have the two of them, then he could be content.

@70yearsofwinter @xlianovna

✘ ⌖ ➶ Though Natasha wasn't entirely sure why Steve was taking her hand, she let him lead her over to where James had been standing. The three of them now in each other's space, smelling sweetly of Asgardian apple mead with the hint of bitter alcohol. Green eyes flicked between the two men's faces, doing her best to read them. It was something that Natasha was remarkably good at, but with the array of different emotions passing through the trio of inebriated soldiers, she was finding it a little difficult.

Until Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to Bucky's mouth. It wasn't anything overly passionate, but the feelings were there. The redhead wasn't clued in as to why her hand was being held for this, but if it gave Steve the support he needed, then she wasn't about to yank it away. Instead, she bit on her lips in an attempt to hide the drunken grin that did its best to stretch across her features. She was right, and she always loved to be right. It was more than that, though. She knew those two were harboring something deeper than friendship, and they deserved the chance to explore it. This wasn't the forties, anymore and they weren't just two little kids from Brooklyn. Her shoulders jerked in a tiny happy dance for the display she was witnessing.

➶ @70yearsofwinter | @wavellites

[wavellites]

Anyone who lived in the big city long enough learned how to sleep through the noise, because it was unrelenting. The sounds of cars passing by at all hours, of people talking in the streets, of animals digging around through the garbage, of vigilantes fighting on the roof...

Claire woke with a start at the sound of an agonized scream as someone crashed down the side of her apartment building, hitting the pavement below with a sound that was half wet crunching and half metallic scraping--not a good combination any way you looked at it. Throwing on a robe over her pajamas, she snatched up her emergency medical supplies and flew down the stairs.

It was easy enough to spot the unlucky man splayed out over the concrete in a pool of blood that was spreading underneath him. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that he was dead, because normal people couldn't take that kind of damage and walk away again, but she'd met enough people who defied expectations that it's not surprising when she saw the rise and fall of his chest.

Still breathing. Good.

"Hey, can you hear me?" she asked as she approached, kneeling down and pulling a flashlight from her bag to shine a narrow beam in Bucky's eyes. "You still with us?"

@70yearsofwinter

@wavellites for Claire Temple.

ㅤThere was apparently something seriously wrong with New York City for the number of superpowered and/or masked individuals it supported and somehow still had shit going on that had the handlers for Bucky's conditional employment telling him to deal with messes right there in the city. He wasn't complaining because it worked in his favor to stay local, but sometimes he wondered what the hell had happened over the years. His job that evening was to get a tracker onto a thief, or better yet, capture the bastard so that they could question him, but the tracker would lead them back to wherever he went after he disappeared each time.

ㅤEasy enough, he figured. Placing the tracker required engaging at an opportune moment and Bucky was not excited about a visual on a figure in partial armor that looked like it was taking stylistic inspiration from both Doom and Stark, particularly in the mask and chest. He picked what he hoped was his best chance to drop from the sky (or more accurately, from above the roof access doorway) onto him and set the tracker immediately so that the priority mission was completed, which was a good thing because that was where everything stopped going according to plan. Bucky was not light, even for his size, and it wasn't usual for him to land on someone and not take them down instantly; some might get up, but the initial impact floored the majority of opponents. This guy not only didn't drop, but grabbed him by the throat in an armored metal hand, snatched Bucky's own knife from his belt and might have stabbed him in the chest with it instead of plunging it into his leg if Bucky hadn't unloaded four rounds into the other's abdomen. He wasn't sure if any of them penetrated the armor, but they didn't ricochet back at him and the guy staggered backward, so he'd take the win when he could breathe again.

ㅤThe two of them seemed to be re-evaluating each other in the seconds after, and Bucky thought one or more bullets may have hit their mark when the target took off for the edge of the roof instead of trying for a second round. Was it his smartest move to follow? Probably not, but fleeing usually meant that his opponent felt outmatched and even with a knife in his thigh, that was a good sign. He'd been in worse pain, it hadn't hit anything too serious, so he'd make it. He darted after, throwing his arm up to protect his face and turning his body when a spray of bullets took him entirely in his left side with the sharp ping of metal on metal and the even sharper pain of impact, but then he was at the edge of the roof and he could see the other stagger on landing. There were some kind of thrusters in those boots, but Bucky could make the jump without the tech and even bleeding, he seemed to be in better shape. The thief hadn't recovered enough to make it more than a few feet before stopping, and Bucky made the leap.

ㅤHe was a few feet from landing when the armored menace turned and fired again, and this time it wasn't a semi-auto or anything normal. Bucky would have even taken a grenade being launched at him instead of the arc of electricity that instantly connected with his arm like it was a lightning rod, shooting through the prosthesis and the rest of the metal beneath his skin like it really needed all of that spread to cause maximum agony. He screamed, the thief cut the charge and bolted, and he absolutely missed his landing. He almost caught the fire escape instead, barely aware and working entirely on instinct, but his left arm wasn't responding and he hit it hard. The next one he tried to catch right-handed, but his grip wasn't certain and slipped free.

ㅤHe'd fallen further and survived, but the combination of the shock to his system and everything that came before the fall did not help. Somehow, he missed the dumpster on impact, for better or worse, but whatever disoriented attempt he made to get up immediately after didn't last. When he tried pushing himself up one-handed, he lost his balance immediately and didn't get up again.

[wavellites]

~ The Red Sea Diving Resort (2019) ~

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Bucky & Steve

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Yes, they were best friends--had always been best friends--and none of the actions that Steve took would have seemed any different from an outsider's perspective. He'd felt a conviction back then, knowing that the world was in a precarious state and that he had to do something to help, but Bucky's involvement made the stakes personal.

Explaining how he felt was a whole other story from just feeling it, though, even with Natasha's encouragement, because that would require more introspection than he felt capable of at his current blood alcohol level. The truth is he had always loved Bucky. It felt easy as breathing, easier than most other aspects of his life. Back then, though? He would have been labeled a deviant, or his love for his friend would have been added to the laundry list of his illnesses, losing out on what few opportunities he had. It was better never to dwell on it, just to let it be.

It was different now--legal, most importantly, and also viewed by most as a natural thing. Bigots would always exist, but their voices weren't the loudest anymore. It was okay to love the people he loved in all the ways he never could before, if he was brave (or reckless) enough to risk it, and anyone who knew him would know that he was as recklessly brave as they came.

"You aren't missing anything," Steve said. "We never talked about it. I was happy just to have you in my life, and I didn't want to assume anything. Girls never even gave me a second glance back then, and I didn't want to lose my best friend if you didn't feel the same way."

Taking a steadying breath, Steve reached down for Nat's petite hand and took it in his, then tugged her over to where Bucky was leaning against the wall. His free hand landed on Bucky's shoulder, inching up to cradle the back of his neck before Steve leaned in press his lips to the corner of Bucky's mouth.

@70yearsofwinter @xlianovna

✘ ⌖ ➶ Natasha had to admit, she fully expected James to say something snarky and shoot the moment down, going back to the game. Instead, he came clean. She watched him, smiling with how proud of him she was that he was putting it into words. The three of them were some of the world's most skilled humans to ever live, doing things a vast majority of the populace couldn't even think of. But when it came to putting their own emotions into words... Well, Natasha didn't know about the boys, but she'd rather jump off the roof of an exploding skyscraper than do that.

It was Steve's reply that dimpled her cheeks as she fought to keep her smile from going into a full on grin. She didn't miss the way Bucky had thrown in his theory about Steve having a thing for her, but this wasn't her moment. This was for them and she wanted it to just be about them. It felt like a century was building to this moment and she suddenly felt like a preteen watching Edward and Bella kiss for the first time.

"There's one way to find out," she prompted, dropping her arms from Steve's shoulders, hoping he'd get to hint to walk over to James.

➶ @70yearsofwinter | @wavellites

[wavellites]

Steve & Bucky + Text Posts