if you misgender a trans person just because you’re mad at them you are 100% a piece of filth.
Walter Johnson, Soul by soul: life inside the antebellum slave market
This is the type of violence—from microaggressions to epistemic violence to emotional/physical violence to enslavement/genocide—that gets justified by asserting that the oppressor is “objective” and “logical” and thereby “credible.” As if there is objectivity in choosing to oppress. As if the emotions of entitlement, indifference, greed or hatred aren’t involved.
all of the speculation about post-winter soldier Bucky is either his helpless reliance on Steve or his focus on revenge and that’s cool and all
but I want Bucky from the comics, the man Steve was able to track down because he was volunteering in clean-up efforts in Pennsylvania, and Steve knew that’s what Bucky would do.
Bucky, the man who of course took out some Hydra weapons while he was out and about, but the man who also threw himself into volunteer service to right the wrongs the Winter Soldier committed.
I want a Bucky Barnes who takes his life into his own hands to do good for others, to shape the century in a new way. Bucky Barnes who turns Hydra’s weapon of fear and destruction into a person of hope and resurrection.
Not a Bucky governed by anger or by sorrow or by revenge, but a Bucky guided by love and friendship and compassion.
This is Sam and Bucky with a little Steve in it.
Steve is vaguely alarmed to realize one day, about three months into Bucky’s on and off stay with them, that Bucky is Sam’s cat. Not even his cat. Sam’s.
Unintentionally, Sam is the one that starts it. Bucky is trying to get used to them, though is still very obviously uncomfortable with being around people. While Steve does his best to make Bucky feel included in everything he does, Sam…sort of ignores him.
Sam doesn’t actively ignore Bucky. He simply moves around him casually, the same way he would ignore Steve while he’s focused on his artwork or mission papers: simply not acknowledging him unless he’s acknowledged first. Not even to make eye contact.
Sam moves around his home as if there isn’t a potentially homicidal assassin (that has tried to kill them more than once) hanging out in the living room of their apartment.
He doesn’t act wary around Bucky the way Natasha does or treat him with kid gloves the way Steve does when he does something wrong.
"Hey!" Bucky looked up slowly from where he was at the fridge, carton of milk halfway to his lips. Sam, sitting on the couch and half turned to face him, pointed at him. "No.” he said pointedly. He pointed at the carton and then at the cupboard that held the mugs before turning back to face the TV. Steve was about to move, to say something, when Bucky closed the fridge, set the carton down on the counter, an went to grab a black mug from the cupboard.
Bucky seemed to actively seek Sam out when he was home. Not to say or do anything to him, but simply to sit and watch him with that intense stare of his. Which Sam paid no attention to, except to toss over a ball of candy or to comment on something on the TV every now and again.
Little by little, Bucky moved from watching Sam/whatever Sam was watching from the kitchen to the dining table in the living room to the far end of the couch to the close end of the couch. If Bucky’s moving nearer to him each day bothered Sam, he didn’t show it.
But Bucky was still an assassin and, more that that, he was still a brat from Brooklyn. So he couldn’t help but wonder how close was too close. Sitting on the arm of Sam’s easy chair as he watched TV wasn’t too close. Nor was sitting on the back of it.
So one day, Sam got home with the Hobbit book (shut up, he refused to see the movies until he’d had a chance to read the book, okay?) to see Bucky sitting in his chair.
"No. Nope. You do not take a man’s chair, James. That etiquette rule number 1. Off."
Bucky blinked at him slowly and leaned back in the chair, settling in. Sam’s eyes narrowed slowly.
"I will sit on you, Barnes."
When Bucky simply raised an eyebrow, Sam raised one back and shrugged. And, just as promised, he sat down on Bucky’s lap, opened his book and began to read. There was no shifting or twisting, just relaxed sitting. As if, having decided that Bucky was going to be his chair, Sam’s mind had made it reality and found it no less comfortable than a normal chair.
Bucky, on the other hand, was vaguely alarmed. He sat stiffly for the first half hour, having no idea what to do with himself. But when Sam snorted at something on the pages of his book, Bucky found himself glancing down over Sam’s shoulder to see what it was.
Which is how Steve and Natasha found them, fifty-seven minutes later.
Steve blinked several times rapidly, unsure if he should, you know, leave the room, and Natasha simply raised an eyebrow.
"He was sitting in my seat. My seat, Steve." Sam said, not remotely apologetic and not even looking up from his book.
After that Bucky seems to make a habit of either sitting in Sam’s seat or sitting right up next to Sam when he sits anywhere that the space allows for it.
Sam is a little more physically affectionate with Bucky after that. He puts a hand on his arm or shoulder when he talks, lets a hand rest on Bucky’s head when he lays on the couch, even places a hand firmly on the back of Bucky’s neck when he lectures him for doing something stupid.
After Steve puts it all together in his head, he mentions it to Natasha. She just rolls her eyes at him.
"Then you’re his cat too. He touches you the same way."
When Steve opens his mouth to protest that, to at least mention that it’s a totally different thing, she adds, “You groom Bucky, Steve. You make sure he keeps his hair and clothes clean. And I know you’ve bathed with him at LEAST once.”
Steve blinked hard, opening and closing his mouth.
"Seriously? Bucky may have been picked up off the street, but you followed him home.”
The fact that “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” (a song about two lovers reuniting with a kiss after being separated due to World War II) was the song that was playing when Steve first saw the Winter Soldier is going to keep me awake for the rest of my life, tbh.
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Don’t let white academia break you.