vida bohem

tygermama  asked:

re: Lone Wolf and Cub - the tenement apartment that Bucky finds to hole up in is full of people who've been there and on one hand, they're not sure how involved they want to get but on the other hand... so bags full of kids clothes they don't need anymore and other odds and ends keep showing up in front of his door.

So the apartment where James B. Grant and his son end up staying is utterly multicultural.  

Instinctively, Bucky feels far more comfortable here, in this mix of cultures, ethnicities, languages and lifestyles, because it reminds him of the old neighborhood in Brooklyn.

It reminds him of home.    

He is both Bucky Barnes and the Soldier now, reclaiming that part of himself that HYDRA had stolen from him.   He can’t claim the name of Bucky Barnes openly, at least not yet, but that he knows who he is and what he’d been - that was enough of a start.

So here, in his new home, he tries to live quietly enough and he is cordial to the neighbors, because part of it is old, ingrained courtesy and the other is the cold calculation of the Soldier, needing to blend in naturally.  And it’s all, of course, to protect the baby.  So he offers to help Mrs. Goldman with her groceries, chats amiably in Cantonese with Mr. Li, playfully flirts with Miss Vida Boheme and tries not to growl when all and sundry coo at baby Misha.

And of course, of course, the Filipinos adopt Bucky first.

Really, it’s because his next door neighbors are Maricel and Leah, the newlyweds who have both their extended families living in the building as well.  And Maricel’s beloved Nanay is visiting from the Philippines.  Nanay’s English is minimal, as she had never even finished elementary school.  Though her children are fiercely proud that she had managed to rear them all to adulthood through sheer guts and hard work.   She had been delighted and relieved to find an Amerikano who spoke Tagalog so well and promptly concluded that Bucky - who she’d christen Tisoy - was half Filipino on his Mother’s side, for of course, how else could he speak the native language so well?

It’s not long before she also deduces that Bucky must be all alone in this world and kawawang anak (poor child), that he and his little one had no one else to turn to.  So she promptly adopts them, dotes on her boys, makes sure the little one gets a steady supply of baby clothes and toys from hand me downs and plies them with good home-cooked meals - her famous menudo and adobo and invites them over for breakfast tapsilog.  

Maricel, of course, dryly comments, “Nanay, are you sure this isn’t because you just want an apo with blonde hair and blue eyes?”

It’s not that Nanay lacks for grandchildren - Maricel’s siblings are all married and have children of their own, running and laughing and playing and calling Bucky “Uncle Tisoy.”   And Leah’s own nephews and nieces are happy to call Nanay as Lola.  

Nanay huffs and urges Bucky to have more of her menudo.  

Leah giggles.  “Pagbigyan mo na si Nanay sa kanyang crush."  (Indulge Mom and her crushing.)

Bucky blushes.

Nanay huffs again and waves her cooking sandok (ladle) threateningly.  "Heh!  Mga walanghiya kayo!”  

It’s Nanay who urges Bucky to have Misha’s binyag (baptism) and soon.  It’s really less about Catholic religion and more of elders’ wisdom - to put the child in the grace of God and the protection of His angels and ward away evil spirits.   She’s seen how carefully and lovingly he watched over the frail-looking child, even as he slept, carefully counting every breath.  

He doesn’t tell her that once upon a time, he used to do this for another boy, with the same blonde hair and blue eyes, the same stubborn set to what should be a delicate chin.  That over the years that they had both grown up together, he has memories of curling his body around that smaller frame, his cheek against that hair, one arm closed protectively over that waist.  That he’d stolen soft kisses from the back of his neck and his shoulder, whispered promises that he couldn’t let the other boy hear in the light of day.  

Steve Rogers had not died on Bucky’s watch.  He’d make sure that this little one would be the same.  

Maricel tries to reason with her mother:  “Nanay, we don’t even know if he’s Catholic!”

Bucky surprises them and himself when he admits, “Yes, I am Catholic.”

So it’s Leah who talks to her cousin the parish priest and Bucky is quietly relieved that he’d already taken the precaution of laying down the paperwork establishing his and the baby’s identities.   He protests that they don’t really need a big celebration - while he’s raided HYDRA’s accounts for money, he knows he and the little one need to keep a very low profile.  

Nanay shakes her head.  They might not be all that well off but they’d manage.  They’d done so before over the years - for her own children and her grandchildren - and they’d do it again.  Bucky insists on giving her the grocery money and Nanay coordinates a party that pretty much has everyone in the building in attendance.  

Nanay might not be the baby’s biological grandmother but Bucky decides that godmother would be the next best thing, making Nanay tear up with joy.  

Mikhail was the name he’d originally given to the baby HYDRA had coldly designated as Subject 07.   Misha would be the diminutive he’d call him by, crooning lullabies and comfort when the baby grew fretful.   In Russia, his patronymic might be Stefanovic or Yakovic.  But this is America so Michael it is - for the Archangel Michael, patron saint of soldiers, a protector that this child needed so badly.  

On the child’s baptismal certificate, his name would appear as Michael Rogers Grant.  

It would do for now.  

- end -

Note:  Again, tygermama this is all totally your fault. :P

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La Vida Boheme - Flamingo

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This is the problem with Steve Rogers currently being - as several people have so eloquently put it - “itty bitty adorable.”

Tony started it.  Pepper sealed the deal.  Natasha approved.  Rhodey phoned in to tell them that #ittybittyCapAdorable was trending.  Sam promptly died laughing.  Bruce joined in the act.  Thor was confused, per usual, but was silently protective of Steve.  To Thor, Steve’s temporary status “did not diminish him in strength or courage."  And then Thor said something about Steve being "the uncrowned King” and that Steve would always have the friendship and allegiance of Thor, which kind of had all these weird Middle-earth-y undertones to it and nobody wanted to think about it too much.  

Jane sheepishly showed them her Tumblr dashboard where she was tracking the tag.  Darcy dragged Steve off for a quick shopping expedition for his temporary wardrobe, since he wasn’t about to start borrowing from Tony’s closet (Tony predictably hollered that he was not that short, thank you very much).  Said shopping expedition caused even more pictures to get out and for Tumblr to shut down – again. 

Somewhere in the depths of the Tumblr offices, staff was offering prayers to the Old Ones in protection against Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Bucky Bears and those two dudes named Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie who were apparently causing an epic Squee Apocalypse at some comic convention.  All of them were notorious for crashing Tumblr these days. 

But we digress. 

The world still needed saving.  Steve Rogers still led the Avengers.  Even if he happened to be all of five foot odd adorable and ninety – (Bucky, I’m a hundred and ten, for Chrissakes) pounds soaking wet.  Even if he was already doing a commendable job of running ops behind the scenes. 

Coulson had tears in his eyes, by the way.   Agents had remarked that Steve’s style was remarkably like Coulson’s - calm, cool, collected and infinitely reassuring. 

But Bucky could see the strain in Steve’s eyes, even as he tried to curb every impulse that wanted to scoop Steve up, find some nice deserted tropical island and shoot at anyone who tried to get close.  Steve absolutely hated being useless - even if what he was currently doing was anything but. 

So when Natasha said she needed bait for an op she was running, Steve was happy to jump in.  Getting rid of the red in her ledger, she said.  Also, the guys she was trying to take down apparently had ties to the Red Room’s Winter Soldier program and HYDRA.  Of course Steve wanted in. 

“So why didn’t she ask you?” Bucky grumbles at Clint, who is, in all fairness, Nat’s usual partner in crime for things like these. 

“My ass looks fat in the dress Nat wanted me to wear,” Clint shrugs.

Dress. What. 

Because Life, Fate or the Giggling Clouds of Doom apparently have it in for him (seriously, why was he being blamed for the Sebastian Stan Incident That Crashed Tumblr, he didn’t even KNOW the guy), Bucky turns around to find Steven Grant Rogers in –

He was going to kill Natalia for this. 

Ever since she heard about the “Steve in a Dress” story, she’s never been able to let it go.  And okay, Bucky knows drag - he and Steve had drag queens for neighbors way back when and Ms. Vida Boheme ruled the fifth floor at Bag End Apartment and was often a safe haven for “young queens finding their way to utter fabulousness."   However, Steve isn’t dressed for a drag show, which, of course, demanded a certain level of theatricality. 

He looks beautiful, elegant and this is what going to set Bucky’s teeth on edge - he looks sweetly innocent as well.  Perfect bait. 

Steve glides forward on his heels and - shit, how could he have ever forgotten that walking in heels was a hidden Steve Rogers talent, all thanks to Jilly, may that lady rest in peace - runs a hand up his abs to his chest and says, in a throaty voice, "Like what you see, soldier?”

“What I’m seeing is a punk in a dress,” Bucky manages through a suddenly dry mouth.  He cupped the back of Steve’s head, because he wanted, so very, very badly –

Nat’s voice cuts through Clint’s outraged squawking.  “Don’t mess him up just yet, Yasha.  We still need to get through the op first.”

“I want in,” Bucky growls.

Nat rolls her eyes at him but yeah, apparently he gets to come along.

Their target apparently had a yen for pretty boys in dresses, which was why Steve ended up being dragged into this. 

What they didn’t expect was that the target had fangs. 

Natasha swears something particularly filthy in Russian, moving in to extract Steve and Bucky is already lining the asshole in his sights, finger on the trigger, because the sight of Steve on his back with a hungry vampire about to rip his throat out isn’t going to fucking happen while Bucky has anything to say about it. 

But then Steve somehow manages to flip the asshole over and brains him with a heavy crystal ashtray.  It doesn’t keep the guy down for long but it does take him out of Bucky’s line of sight for a few terrifying moments.  Steve doesn’t hesitate.  He grabs a wooden chair, introduces it to the Vampire’s gut, moving as fast and as strongly as he’d ever done when he’d been a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier and –

Bucky has the shot.  He takes it.  The vampire’s head explodes just as Steve manages to ram that chair leg into the guy’s heart. 

All things considered, the op is a definite success. 

***

Apparently, the Serum was beginning to kick back in for Steve Rogers. 

The strength and the speed are definitely back, the healing factor is catching up and Steve’s Captain America build and height aren’t going to be far behind.  Steve had at least known he could function within normal human parameters when he’d said yes to Natasha’s op - they’d all noticed that part over the past week or so.  He didn’t expect he’d get that extra boost when push came to shove though. 

But then, as Steve had quietly whispered into Bucky’s ear when they’d finally had a moment to themselves, he wasn’t about to let some bloodsucker take him like that. 

“Not when I’m yours,” Steve murmurs between soft kisses to Bucky’s jawline, the corner of his mouth, a brief, teasing nibble to his lower lip. 

Bucky manages to deepen the kiss and it won’t be long until he’ll sink his fangs into Steve’s sweet flesh, stake a claim and be claimed himself.  It doesn’t hurt, Steve tells him - it never hurts when Bucky needs him like this, which is less about feeding and more about being being his mate.  His own. 

Yours, Bucky will tell him then. 

He’s still not going to be letting Steve out of his sight for the next twenty four hours or so.  But judging from the mischief in Steve’s eyes, who actually hadn’t protested when Bucky had literally carried him off after the debriefing was over, still in his dress and heels, he figured Steve wasn’t going to mind one bit. 

Bucky does send Natasha her favorite Russian tea as a thank you gift later.  A lot later. 

- end -

Notes: 

- Bitty!Steve kicking ass is my catnip. 

- Vida Boheme is my Queen. 

- As I am a Giggling Cloud, Bucky Barnes is Doomed.  But what a way to go. 

- No, what do you mean Bucky looks like this Sebastian Stan character.  Don’t see any resemblance.  Not one bit. 

- Steve has not been reblogging Sebastian Stan pictures from the Philly Con.  What are you talking about?




   

The Boys Are Back in Town

It shouldn’t be a surprise that Brooklyn adored its favorite sons. 

There were kids who grew up on young Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes stories in the “old neighborhood."  Grandmothers would tell their grandchildren and maybe great-grandchildren about how charming Bucky could be, how sweet a guy Steve was.  And maybe there was a bit of regret in some stories, with the ladies who went on double dates with Steve and Bucky and ended up with Steve getting ignored or shunted off to the side.  Who knew that skinny, scrawny boy would end up being Captain America? 

There was the story of quiet Betsy Robinson, who’d actually been sweet on Steve Rogers even then, but she’d been too shy to ever say a word.  It didn’t stop her from telling her daughter and granddaughter about how Steve got beat up on her behalf, fending off the attentions of a boy she didn’t like.  She told them: "You look for a boy like Steve Rogers, honey.  You look for a man who knows how to treat a lady right.  Don’t you settle for less.”

Betsy Robinson’s girls took that to heart. 

There were stories of how Bucky had looked out for Steve, how the neighborhood knew how to look for Bucky if Steve was getting beat up again.  How Bucky had quietly worked his ass off to pay the rent or to get the medical bills paid when Steve got sick.  It was Mrs. Brenner who taught Bucky how to make her special chicken noodle soup, which came in handy for all the times Steve fell ill.  She also passed on plenty of recipes to Steve himself, who, in her opinion, needed all the feeding up he could get.  In return, the boys looked after her children sometimes - four girls and a baby boy, who would all have stories to tell about Bucky and Steve growing up.  Steve and Bucky would appear in a popular and classic children’s book series, albeit in a disguised form, written by the youngest girl, who would go on to become a famous children’s book author. 

Everyone knew who “Stevie” and “Jimmy” were anyway. 

So Brooklyn opened its arms when both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes made their respective miraculous returns from the dead. 

It must be observed that Sam Wilson - a.k.a. the Falcon and one of the newest Avengers - was considered an adoptive son by Brooklyn, because, of course, everyone knew how he’d helped Cap find Bucky and all his work getting Bucky the healing he needed.  Sam eventually figured out that there was no way he was ever going to pay for a drink (coffee or otherwise) in Brooklyn ever again. 

There were little kids running around with Falcon-style backpacks too.  Sam preened for weeks, while secretly hiding the fact that he teared up the first time.

Bucky has photographic evidence of the tears though.  “Putting a little by for our retirement,” he claims, with much of his old mischief back.

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anonymous asked:

Do you think Sharon Rooney gets insecure when she's filming MMFD? Like, when she has to put on a swimsuit and all?

Hey there anon. I always seem to start these replies with an apology. This one isn’t any different. I’ve had a couple of goes at writing this and I’m still not sure exactly what it is I want to say but whatever else you take away from this little diatribe, let it be understood that Sharon Rooney is a goddess and completely gorgeous and I love her fiercely.

In answer to your question lovely anon, I would assume Sharon has her moments, like everyone yes, but she strikes me as a pretty confident woman and I would expect that like all actors Sharon would, for the most part, be comfortable in her body, as it’s her primary tool for practicing her art. The beauty of this show is that I can now look at it and understand that it would probably be safe to say that Jodie Comer, Ciara Baxendale and Sacha Parkinson all felt self-conscious and insecure with some of the things they were asked to do as well but there would be few people who would think that showing off their bodies would be an issue for them.  While that realisation is so important in understanding that none of us are any better or worse than the next person, only different, it also sucks beyond all measure that we are made to feel that different is a bad thing. Because society (whoever they are) have deemed themselves the arbiters of all things acceptable; of what beauty is and heaven help you if you don’t fit in that box.  No-one is immune, men included.

I hate the fact that my first thought when Sharon took off the robe in Big Bad World was ‘NOOOO!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?’ and then ‘God she’s so brave.’ I really fucking hate it.

To witness someone who looks the way I did when I was her age allow herself to be seen (something fat women are discouraged from doing on a daily basis) to allow herself to be vulnerable and open herself up to the possibility of derision and ridicule made me very, very anxious. Because I have been trained to believe that a fat woman’s body is not for public consumption unless it’s a ‘before’ picture. It’s not powerful, it’s not strong, it’s not fruitful or beautiful or sexually attractive. A fat woman’s body is something that must be hidden. Pitied. Ridiculed. Mourned. Fixed.

But thanks to this show and the all the smart, lovely people who watch it and talk about it and love it as much as I do, I’m coming to the realisation that it’s not just fat women who are held under such scrutiny. ALL women’s bodies are reviewed and dissected in this way and I’m coming to the realisation that this insidious, inherent societal practice is total fucking bollocks and society can kiss my fat arse. Life is short; spend your time being you, doing things that give you pleasure, give you peace and ignore anyone and everyone who feels the need to comment on the size of your thighs. To paraphrase Miss Vida Boheme from “Too Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything,” ‘your opinion is neither desired, nor required.’

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. God bless this fucking show. I am both jealous and grateful that there are people who will grow up watching this show, accepting themselves and be more than alright with who they are. People who will know and understand that they are strong. and that they are perfect and that is fucking brilliant.

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