Not Proofread - Blog Posts

If I had to make my own au of x men evolution, I’d make Todd based off of the Vijayan's night frog, and I’d make him really short (the frogs are tinyyyyy)

I’d also make Kurt’s tail stronger looking, and more like a monkeys tail (still with the arrow shape like a spear tho)

and I want to give kurt an arc where he learns to not insult others based off of their appearance. His arc would be slow, span a few ‘episodes’

maybe he gets stuck with Todd and has to escape an angry, mutant hating group, and they end up really far away, lost cus they were distracted with escaping

they then slowly get to know each other a bit better, learn they’re not so different, and that Todd has it harder that him in some ways

(in the au, Todd ran away from his family bc they keep ignoring his struggles (like sensitive skin that absorbs things like frog skin does, dietary needs, allergies due to his mutation, etc), but the brother hood are his family now)

and kurt just has a moment where it (the brotherhood’s behaviour) all clicks

also, the possibilities for Todd’s frog species are insane

there’s the flying frog (they actually glide tho), the glass frog, poison dart frogs ( hc that in a universe where he is a dart frog, he’d be non poisonous due to not eating the diet he’d need for his body to build up the chemicals, though he could use chemicals to do it), red eyed tree frog, purple frog, Indian bullfrog, hairy frog, etc

I like to imagine he’s tried to eat one of his friend’s (the brotherhood’s) fingers after frog brain mistook it for a worm

Hey, please tell me your thoughts on Dinosquad, I want to hear them so much.

I love/reluctantly watch it

So many inaccuracies. The autism episode was a one off, they should've had more disability representation. I think it would've been cool if ms Moynihan was an amputee. If she and veloci have been around for that long, one of them is bound to have lost a limb at some point, and I don't want it to be Victor, disabled villain trope and all. (If they rewrite and make her an amputee) They should also consult an amputee when writing ms Moynihan. She should also have a bunch of trauma of we're assuming that she lived through both ww1 and ww2

I want an episode where they slowly piece this together, and they realise that she's better at hiding it than they thought. They also debate getting her therapy, but realise she'll be seen as mad (not just the dino thing, but the experiencing ww1 and ww2), so they take it upon themselves to learn how to help, they learn from ms Moynihan that she prefers them to communicate what they're doing, as she was concerned about them potentially slacking. Or it's better written, as I don't know her character all too well

I ramble, sorry (but not really)

I think I love the concept of it, and wish to at least vocalise (? This is a text post so idk) how I wish it was done. also, hc that Victor only transforms his head in front of employees bc his raptor form embarasses him because they expect him to be bigger, and his intimidation no longer works (rewrite au)

Home

Home

Spider was never meant to find Home 

He knows that. No matter what Kiri whispers to him, what Lo’ak insists when the young warriors of the Omatikaya attempt to chase him off, or what Neteyam mumbles when Neytiri whips around with venom on her lips - he knows it, because if it were wrong, it would mean that everything that’s happened was for no reason. He can’t go that route, and so Home is just a concept he’ll never know 

His siblings tempt to sway him many times over the years - they feel so much like Home it hurts, but he’s not so selfish to risk it for them when he knows he already took it from their mother 

He’s seen his father in the photos the scientists don’t know he has, video logs that show a man that’s only been a horror story his whole life 

But what scares him is he sees himself 

He sees his eyes, the scowl when he’s angry, the cinch in his brow. He scowls at the image and sees his own face stare back. 

So yeah. He doesn’t have a home. He has siblings though, and that’s more than he deserves. So Spider is okay. Really, he is.

But then his Dad shows up 

—- 

Quaritch is everything he thought he’d be and…not. 

He’s angry. The man is full of hate and a need for revenge. He destroys the ground beneath his feet and spits on the life that’s surround them. He doesn’t know Ewya but he hates her none the less. 

But he’s protective. Possessive of what’s his (and yet another damn thing he got from his father) and it seems Spider is included in that

He hates it but a part of him feels protected - it’s safe in the that’s holding a poison blade is. He’s one slip up from hell 

But hell was bridgehead. It was the feeling of his deepest parts being pried out and displayed like the pages of a storybook 

No one cared as they saw some of his best and his darkest days. 

No one cared when the whips came out. When he bled so much he worried it was fatal 

No one cared when he starved, when the distant sound of wildlife made his stomach twist with need. 

Except Quaritch. 

Quaritch snuck him food, bandaged his back, and pulled him down. 

His hands may have delivered some of the blows or his lips produced the words to trigger nightmares but he cared. 

Love is complicated, but he knows his Dad loved him

He thinks he may have too 

Quaritch saw him. 

He didn’t know. He thought he did but he didn’t but he wanted to he knows he did - 

Then Neteyam almost dies. No one came for him. They left him, gave him up, except his brothers didn’t 

Neteyam and Lo’ak fought for him. 

They risked their lives when they had the chance to get away

Spider pieces his home together after that

Home finds him in the nights after when he rests with Kiri on his shoulder and Lo’ak’s hand loose in his grip. Tuk is curled into her mothers chest and Jake stands a silent guard at the door. Neteyam is flat on the bed of one of Ronal’s medical tents. His brother has been asleep for a few hours now with Norms assistance, but his family is too afraid to leave his side

He’s been awake the whole time. He hurts in ways he didn’t know he could until his capture but the warmth of his closest friends is too precious to loose right now. Still, he can’t sleep. Adrenaline is running under his skin and anxiety is inching up his throat. Jake is outside, safe and strong, but his tracker could lead the rest of the sky people here again, never mind Norms tempering, or his memories could have a clue, they had to be recorded, or - 

Jake lays a large hand on his shoulder. 

He jumps and a scared gasp escapes his throat before he processes the subtle differences. The thinner fingers, callouses Quaritch hasn’t had time to form yet, the gentleness. 

“You need to sleep, Kiddo.”

Spider shudders and bows his head. “I will, just…can’t. I’ll go lay down in a few hours. When they’re okay.”

He can practically hear Jake roll his eyes. “I’m here. You’re safe, they’re safe. You need to sleep, Son.” 

They both freeze, blood cold and eyes wide, as the silence envelops them.

Then, of course, Lo’ak snores and the moments gone. Jake laughs softly and suddenly exhaustion is pulling at his eyelids. A cushion slides behind him and a hand gently lowers him down. 

“Sleep.” 

The pieces come faster after that.

He cries with Kiri for hours. Laments his father, spills everything he felt. She’s the first one he tells the truth too. She knows more than he thinks anyone else ever will 

He tells her Quaritch is alive. He tells her its all his fault.

She cries, yells, and then they just lay there. She tells him how scared she was of her mother. How lost she felt without him there. 

He looks at her as she cries and another puzzle piece slides into place

Lo’ak and Neteyam came together when they came back for him, but it doesn’t feel settled until later. 

They’re on their ilu with Spider behind Lo’ak as they race out to meet Payakan. He’s giant and beautiful and damn terrifying, but Lo’ak describes him as his soul brother. An extension of himself and a badass of a friend. They tell him how Payakan saved them. How he helped get Spider home

He’s scared and excited and now sure what to make of the beast, but then Lo’ak is leaving him on the ilu and falling into the water 

He rises on a fin the size of a small marui with a loud whoop that can’t help but make Spider laugh in astonished awe 

“Paya, meet my other brother, Spider.” Then a wave of water is splashing over him as Lo’ak laughs in a way he hasn’t heard since the forest 

His breath leaves his lungs as he laughs and laughs, happy for more reasons than one. Neteyam meets his gaze from across the surf and smiles then one quick nod. He holds his gaze and feels the warmth spread in his chest. 

“Team up?”

“Team up.”

Tuk has been his little sister since he held her in his arms for the first time. Neteyam snuck him over when they were barely into puberty and put a baby the size of his torso into his arms 

He remembers her being the most terrifying thing in the world. He was so sure she would be terrified of him, that he would make her cry as soon as she was in his arms and the other kids would realize he’s a monster 

But Tuk has always been Tuk and she just grinned and pulled his hair. Her Tswin fluttered with her affections and he knew he would do anything for her 

He had never seen her angry, truly angry, until she stumbled into him cleaning the cuts along his hips and back. The cloths on the floor are bloody and his skin is angry and mottled but he had been decent at hiding the level of it until now. Behind her, Neytiri stops in her tracks as she takes in his scars 

Tuk’s eyes fill with tears and then he has a bundle of 5’7” child in his arms 

Her eyes flash and she looks like her mother when she growls out; “What happened? They hurt you?” 

He stutters, not knowing what to say when Neytiri kneels down in front of him. She takes the ointment and the bandages in front of him, moves his arm from his side, and begins to apply. Her hands are shaking and he realizes he’s never seen her frazzled 

“You’re a child.” 

He looks up, Tuk now angrily crying in his arms while she cleans and gently bandages the wounds. “I..I know…look, I’m sorry Tuk saw, I-I didn’t think anyone was coming back for a while..” 

“You’re a child. Children are precious. I-I didn’t realize they…that…” She scowls down at the drying blood and puts the wrap down. She pulls him forward so he rests against her with Tuk snug between them. “I’m sorry, Spider. This will not happen again.” 

His face is red and words don’t seem to work but he manages a scared nod. “O-Okay?” 

She nods, decisive, and resumes her work. Then, lifts a dirty dread with a disgruntled finger. “These next. My children will not be seen looking uncared for.” 

And that’s that. He has a family, a home, and it’s all he ever wanted. 

He doesn’t think it could get better. 

Part two coming cause holy shit it's 2000 words

Mourning Symptoms

Warning: Dissociation, mentions of mental breakdowns, character’s death and canon typical violence.

________________________________________

The death was unexpected, it left all of them feeling empty and finding their own ways to grieve.

And the way it happened?

Well, that too left a lot to be desired.

***

First few days were a blur for Jazz. She honestly was a bit ashamed to admit it, as an upcoming psychologist but it seemed like she dissociated a lot. She would sit at the table, lay on her bed or even start reading her textbooks and then she would realise a few hours have passed.

It was scary when it happened the first time. And then three more times after that. But if Jazz was one thing, it was being highly self aware of her mental state so it didn't take too long to figure out what's going on.

Most afternoons, the young woman would find herself lying in bed, looking at her ceiling.

Her mind would wander, usually, ultimately, taking her to the time of accident. Making her wonder if she could have done something differently. If she could do more. If anything would change the outcome.

Her thoughts would blend with each other and Her Head would start filling up with static-like, white noise. It was just like going underwater, when noises became less and less, until exchanged for the feeling of plunged lug holes, strained from the pressure below the waves.

Her ears would become deaf to her mother's screams from downstairs, telling her about dinner, then supper. Then deaf to words meant to bring comfort. Told through the door as Madeline Fenton worried and promised empty ‘everything is going to be okay’ and ‘we are here if you need us’ before going to turn in and fall into uneasy slumber.

Jazz was deaf to it all. Her eyes unseeing, unfocused, no longer taking in her ceiling.

She wasn't doing anything, just existing. Just losing time. Sometimes she would shake out of the stupor. Jazz would realise what time it was and began doing anything to keep the thoughts away, forsaking the sleep for the night.

Sometimes she would fall into hectic slumber littered with stormy dreams. Waking up during different hours each time.

After those, worst days passed and she finally regained some semblance of time awareness. It had been more than a week since the accident.

Jazz tried all possible ways to deal with guilt and grief. She tried to reason with herself, tried to rationalise it, compartmentalize her thoughts and finally she broke down.

It helped somewhat, she would think.

But it would take a long while for her to feel normal again. The feeling of a rock in her chest grew and she knew, the grief and guilt would not ease anytime soon.

**

Sam was once again lost in thoughts, laying on her bed.

In the month that followed the incident she seemed to lose a lot of time like that.

She still couldn't believe what happened. One of her friends was gone, this time for good and there was nothing she could do. This time there was no supernatural solution. No coming back from the dead.

She remembered, like through fog when a week after, she still held hope. The second, she snuck into the lab, took The Spectre speedster and flew herself to the Time keep.

Sam yelled at the Time Ghost until her throat felt raw and ached.

Then she was gently sent out of the Clockworks keep and cried in the safety of her room.

She couldn’t talk afterwards but she knew without doubt. That accident was partially her fault.

She had been responsible for her friend's death. Twice.

So she did what she always has done.

She kept busy.

In following weeks Samantha created three separate new campaigns dedicated to saving the planet. Remodeled her bedroom four times, until it looked just like at the beginning and created fourteen separate diy articles of clothing.

All in all Sam was doing everything she could in order not to think, what wasn’t an easy task. Her mind was dead set on going back to the accident, again and again. And once she started thinking about the incident, her mind was reminding her about the portal one. Two times her friend died. Two times and only one of them brought the dead one back.

Most nights Sam shed tears in the safety of her bedroom, always making sure no traces of them were left in the morning. Her mind was not a nice place to be these days and her grandmother noticed.

So if there were days when both of them sat holding each other's hands and talking about nothing and everything, pretending in front of Sam’s parents that everything was okay, it was only between them.

**

Tucker wasn't faring much better than his Gothic friend. Not only he worried for all People dear to him, he developed obsession in his own right. Always checking where everyone's where. Always noting whatever words he said that could hurt them and apologising whenever there was a slight chance they did.

Tucker was very pointedly not thinking about what transpired four weeks prior but all signs that something was wrong were there.

The boy was quieter than usual, skittish and keeping track of everyone he cared about.

His parents noticed of course, their son, usually an open boy, was closing up and hiding things from them. He was obsessively noting every detail, every little thing and overthinking everything. It was like Tucker was afraid everyone would disappear.

Breaking point came when his father found the document on his computer, detailing two weeks worth of every single move of both him, his wife and their boy’s friends.

All the times they left their respective houses, what they were wearing, when they got back. It was all there and a worrying sign.

Intervention came soon after that and whatever Tucker’s parents expected was not almost three hours long babbling and denying of everything before a full on breakdown that lasted equally as long.

Tucker didn’t outright admit what happened but he lost the possibility of ignoring that everything was okay.

The road to his mind’s stability would be long but Tucker’s parents were ready to help his son, even if they didn’t know what happened to send him into such state… yet.

**

Valerie Gray was sitting on her bed, out of everyone she seemed to be the most put together it looked like. She saw Sam and Tucker at school and they were a mess.

Just last year Valerie wouldn’t even know there was anything wrong with them but she got to know them through Danny and knew they weren’t okay. Not even remotely and even if they tried to make it seem like everything was fine, putting on a brave facade, at this point there was no fooling her.

To be completely fair to them, Valerie was doing exactly the same thing they did. She was acting like everything was normal, like an accident didn’t happen… like she didn’t play a part in it.

Valerie ate dinner with her father and went to her room, only then she allowed herself to show weakness, sliding down the wall onto the floor. She curled her legs to her chest and turned her head. Her eyes caught the glimpse of the box underneath her bed and she pulled it out of there.

Opening it, she didn’t know what to feel and her Red Huntress costume didn’t have an answer for her either. Only thing she knew was that she would not wear it again. Or at least for a very long while.

It was just like what Phantom told her once before, „can you really take part in destroying the human?”. And the worst irony of all was, he would never be able to ask her that again.

Not to mention, the answer was obvious - yes.

Valerie shut the box and kicked it back under the bed, hot tears already falling.

**

The knock on the door was not expected at four in the afternoon but as luck would have it he was the only one home and therefore had to open them.

„Hello Daniel” greeted Vlad Masters smiling in the nicest possible way a millionaire and reformed villain could.

Danny sighed realising that since Vlad was in fact (kind of) reformed and was actually bothering to knock, therefore he would have to let him in.

Black haired boy stepped aside, motioning the inside of the house.

„Come in.” He said, prompting a wider smile that looked a tad bit too like a villain one.

As Vlad made it inside the house with an actual leather bag that, judging from the smell, contained snacks Danny felt relief.

For the past three months Vlad was trying, more for Dani than him really but he was trying. Today Danny didn’t have to worry about poison in his food. What was more worrying was why Vlad was at his house in the first place. As subtle as he could, Danny shot a message to Jazz.

„What brings you here today?” Asked the younger half ghost, deciding to thread carefully.

Vlad moved to the kitchen like he owned the place and proceeded to deposit his bag on the counter, before proceeding to pull out more and more containers full of food.

„I thought I would drop by.” Intoned the older man, still putting out the boxes „Dani likes to hang out with you and I cannot have my beloved daughter and dear godson going hungry now, can I?” Vlad hummed to himself.

Danny stilled and shifted to a more tense position as his ex-enemy continued to hum to himself while unwrapping the food.

„Vlad, do you remember what happened five weeks ago?” The teen asked warily.

The hand that was about to put a box of meat rolls on the counter stilled, the man’s eyes widened.

„No…”

It wasn’t the first time it happened and Danny knew exactly what was coming.

„Vlad…” started Danny, deciding to be direct. „Danielle is gone.”

„No!” Vlad snarled, meat rolls falling onto the floor as he swirled, his eyes blazing red.

„Yes, Vlad she is gone. Dead. Permanently.”

Vlad lunged, shifting mid way. Danny let his transformation wash over him as he turned them both intangible and let them fall through the floor and into the lab.

His parents never learned the truth and it was way easier to explain the damages done to the lab then the ones sustained by the living room.

Two ghosts grappled for a while, Vlad snarling like a wild animal.

Phantom kicked him off of him and blasted him with ectoblasts.

Vlad deflected and their battle continued for a while longer. They used ectoblasts, threw each other towards walls and onto various appliances, Dany knew well, he will have to repair and grapple with each other. As the time went by, Plasmius attacks kept getting weaker.

Finally Dany pinned Plasmius to the floor, feeling that the ghost was shivering all over. Dark circles moved up and down, revealing human Vlad again.

„She can’t be gone.” Whispered the other half ghost. „She can’t”.

Phantom let go and found himself being latched onto as a grown man wept.

Danny’s eyes were empty.

**

Vlad was lucky, the rest of the Fentons went out on a Jazz college festival thing. Otherwise it would be an awkward situation all around.

It took the man two hours to calm down enough to take his medications and nearly another one before he left, promising to not forget taking the pills again.

Left alone again, Danny stood in front of the Portal, once again in his Phantom form.

He opened the portal and flew into the Zone, moving towards his most frequent destination lately.

Landing behind Clockwork who was monitoring other timelines in his keep, Danny straightened up.

„Hello Danny.” Greeted the Ancient of time, without even turning around. „Ready for our next lesson?” There was amusement in his voice.

„I am.” A short answer came, more and more common these days.

There was silence for a minute before the older being shifted into his adult form and with amusement colouring his voice spoke, finally turning to face Danny.

„Ask what you want to ask.”

Danny kept silent for a moment longer, his eyes hardened and teeth clenched even harder.

„If I do this… is it possible? Were you telling the truth?” Danny’s voice was steady, he clearly wanted confirmation.

Clockwork shifted into his old form and smiled condescendingly.

„I did not lie Daniel. If you become the king of all ghosts, as per your right.” Clockwork began flying closer to young Halfa. „You will have enough power and authority to bring her back.”

Danny looked at his mentor, at his grandfather. Danny looked at the time.

Truth was, Danny didn’t mourn Danielle, he went ahead and tried to find another way. That way turned out to be, for him to forsake his freedom, not just yet but eventually.

He glanced back at Clockwork who was still smiling.

„Shall we begin?” The question sounded like he had a choice.

Danny’s eyes glowed brighter.

„Yes.”

That feeling of self doubt when you think you've figured somthing out about yourself but you don't fit what's expected.

Th feeling of hiding in plain site from everyone. Those who would understand and the others that could never.

I tell myself it's fine if I'm wrong it can't hurt anyone. But itcan. If I lied you suffered the effort I'm putting abd have put to rebuild the unstable walls of our friendship will crumble again.

And I can't lose you.

Is it wrong to say I miss you. That I miss the way out bodies fit together like the puzzles my grandma tirelessly works on.

That I miss your little smiles when I said something stupid and made of fool of myself.

Your hair draping over my shoulder at lunch your stomach pressed against my back.

But that's not fair. You aren't mine and as much as I want to be I'm not yours. I told you I couldn't l9ve you. I told you I would never love anyone. I told you I was wrong. I don't want to do that again.

Beach Day

Pairing: Stucky x little!reader [Disclaimer: Age Regression!]

Summary: You and your caregivers go on a trip to the beach where you have an action-packed day of building sand castles, splashing in the water, and spending time with your daddies.

Word Count: 3.1k+

A/N: I tried to make reader actually speak more this time, more excited in little space. I’m also going to the beach this week, so maybe I’ll find some inspiration to write more beach-related scenarios. Happy reading!

Main Masterlist

Sunlight peeks through your curtains, warm and golden. Before you’re even fully awake, you feel it, that fluttery kind of excitement deep in your belly. Today is the day you take a trip with your daddies to the beach.

You practically tumble out of bed, your stuffie clutched in one hand and your blanket trailing behind you like a cape. Your feet patter down the hall to the kitchen where Steve is already pouring coffee and Bucky’s at the table packing snacks and food into a cooler bag.

As soon as they see you, both of their faces light up.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Steve says with a grin, crouching down as you barrel into him for a hug.

“‘S beach day!” You declare, bouncing on your toes and giggling. “Gon’ swim, an’ eat sammiches, anddd… maybe find a crab!”

Steve chuckles and ruffles your bedhead. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

Bucky comes over and lifts you into his arms with a dramatic motion. “You sound ready to explode with excitement, doll.”

“Boom!” You shout happily, flopping into his shoulder with a squeal.

“Alright, tiny firecracker,” Bucky says with a smirk, kissing your temple, “Let’s pick out that swimsuit, huh? I laid out a few.”

He carries you back to your room, setting you down in front of the bed where three different swimsuits are folded: one with little sharks, one with rainbows and glitter, and one with ducks wearing sunglasses.

You gasp. “Ducks!! ‘M wearin’ the ducky one!”

“Excellent choice,” Steve says from the doorway, holding up a tiny bottle of sunscreen like it’s a secret weapon. “Operation Sunshield begins after we’re dressed.”

You squeal again and squirm excitedly while Bucky helps you into the ducky swimsuit, gently tugging the fabric into place and letting you spin in front of the mirror.

“Look at you,” He teases. “The duck commander herself.”

You pose with your hands on your hips. “Quack,” You say seriously before breaking into giggles.

Steve brings over your favorite sunhat, the one with little cat ears sewn on top. He crouches down to tie the strings carefully under your chin. “There. Our beach baby is ready.”

You nod with a wide smile, pointing to yourself. “Beach baby. Dat’s me.”

Bucky hands you your beach bag, shaped like a strawberry, already packed with your floatie, water bottle, a towel, and your favorite shell-collecting bucket. You peek inside and spot your teddy tucked in there too, wearing his own little sunglasses.

“Brownie comin’ tooooo!” You squeal, hugging the bag tight.

Steve chuckles and kisses your forehead. “Of course. He’s our co-pilot.”

You skip toward the door, flip-flops smacking the floor, bag bouncing against your side, already humming a made-up beach song.

And behind you, Steve and Bucky exchange a soft look, all warm smiles and quiet love, before following you out the door.

It doesn’t take long until you’re all buckled into your seat in the back of Steve’s big SUV, your strawberry beach bag beside you and Brownie resting in your lap. Your feet are swinging back and forth and you’ve got a sippy cup of cold apple juice in one hand.

Bucky’s driving, sunglasses on and arm relaxed out the window, while Steve twists in the front seat to check on you again.

“Got everything, sweetheart?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Mhm! Brownie, got snacks, got juice… oh! Forgot da crayons- wait, no I didn’t! They in the bag!” You unzip it and proudly show off your zip-up pouch full of stubby, broken crayons and coloring pages.

Steve gives you a dramatic sigh of relief. “Phew. Beach emergency averted.”

Bucky grins at the road. “Can’t survive a beach trip without crayons. Everyone knows that.”

You lean back and hum a little song to yourself while kicking your feet. Then, suddenly, “Papa?”

Steve turns again, his expression soft. “Yeah, bug?”

“How many waves do ya fink there gonna be? A gazillion?”

He hums in thought before answering, “Maybe a gazillion and one.”

You giggle and wiggle in your seat. “I’mma jump in alla them! Gonna splash ev’rywhere!”

Bucky snorts, joking. “Better not splash me, unless you wanna get launched into orbit.”

You gasp, wide-eyed. “Like a rocket?!”

“Yup. Straight to the moon, kiddo.”

Steve leans over and smacks Bucky’s arm playfully. “No launching beach babies today, sergeant.”

“Awwww,” You whine with a little pout, “But I wanna go moon swimmin’…”

They both laugh, and Bucky says, “Okay, okay. We’ll settle for ocean splashing. But you are gonna need to hold our hands in the water if you don’t have your floatie with you.”

You cross your arms with a dramatic sigh. “Cuz waves big?”

Steve nods. “And ‘cause we love you. Wanna keep you close.”

That makes you go quiet for a second before you agree with a nod, “Okay. I hold your hands forever!”

The car is quiet after that for a few minutes, filled only with the sound of tires on pavement and the music playing softly through the speakers, one of your favorite silly beach songs.

Eventually, your eyes start to feel a little heavy from the sun and excitement, and your voice gets small. “Tell me when we’re there?”

Steve turns slightly in his seat, watching you snuggle up with your teddy bear. “Of course, baby. You rest. We’ll get you there safe.”

And with Bucky humming along to the song and Steve’s assurance warm and steady, you drift off to sleep, dreaming of ducks in sunglasses and waves that reach the stars.

-

The car slows down into a parking lot full of stray sand, and you awaken instinctively.

“We here?” You mumble, still a little sleepy, rubbing your eyes.

“We’re here, baby,” Steve says, twisting to smile at you. “And there’s the shore.”

You sit up fast, blinking at the blue sky, the seagulls flying overhead, and the endless stretch of sparkling ocean beyond the dunes. Your mouth opens in a soft gasp. “Iss sooooo biiiiig!”

Bucky chuckles as he parks the car. “Told ya the ocean was a giant bathtub.”

“Bath tub don’t got birds,” You correct him seriously.

Steve laughs and gets out, opening the back door and unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out. “You’re right, smarty-pants. No seagulls allowed in bathtubs.”

Bucky lifts the beach bag and tosses a towel over his shoulder. Your floatie, shaped like a giant donut with pink frosting, is tucked under his arm. “Alright, sunshine, grab a hand.”

You immediately reach for both of them, one hand in each of theirs, swinging between them as the three of you walk toward the beach. You can feel the sand seep onto the surface of your flip-flops and the ocean breeze tugs playfully at your hat, but you don’t mind one bit. You’re too busy bouncing in excitement.

“Papa! Daddy! Look, look, a doggie!” You shout, pointing to a golden retriever with a stick in its mouth.

“I see him,” Bucky says. “Reckon he’s here for the waves too.”

“Bet he surfs,” You whisper, awed.

The beach opens up in front of you, wide and bright, with the tide glittering under the sun. Steve lays down a big blanket while Bucky sets up the umbrella and cooler. You spin in place, arms out, squealing, “So big!! So blue!! So sandyyyy!!”

“You’re gonna be so sticky by the end of the day,” Steve teases, “Sticky and sandy and tired.”

You beam. “Dat’s the best kinda day.”

He chuckles, holding out the donut floatie. “Want it on now or wait till we go in?”

You tap your chin like you’re thinking real hard, then answer, “Gon’ wait. ‘Mma build da castle first.”

Bucky sets the floatie down, securing it to make sure it doesn’t blow away in the wind. “Then let’s build the biggest castle in the whole world. Fit for a beach princess.”

“I’m a queen,” You say matter-of-factly, plopping down and grabbing your bucket.

“Apologies, your majesty,” Bucky replies with a bow, handing you your shovel.

You take it gratefully. Now sitting criss-cross in the sand, shovel in hand, and your tongue poking out the side of your mouth in deep, serious concentration. “Dis side gonna be da dungeon,” You declare, patting down a lopsided tower with a wet slap.

“Uh-oh,” Steve says, leaning over with a raised brow. “Who’s getting sent to the dungeon?”

You look up at him dramatically. “Any bad guys. Like… da people who steal snacks. Or take my floatie wifout askin’.”

Bucky smirks. “That first one’s harsh, kiddo. Even I snuck a bite of your granola bar last week.”

You gasp, eyes wide. “DADDY!”

He holds up both hands. “I surrender to the queen.”

You scramble up and point your shovel at him. “To the dungeon!!”

Steve is already half-laughing as he scoops up a little wet sand with his palm and begins forming a jail cell beside your crooked tower. “There. You can lock him up right next to the crab moat.”

“Crab moat?” You squeak, spinning to look and sure enough, Steve has drawn a little wavy trench in the sand around your castle.

“Yup. To keep the villains out. Filled with tiny crab soldiers.”

You light up. “Can I name ‘em?!”

Bucky grins from where he’s now digging a tunnel. “They need names if they’re gonna work for you.”

You begin listing in a sing-song voice as you place little seashells at intervals around the moat. “Dis one’s Sir Pincie. Dat one’s Lady Clawdia. Ooooh! And King Crunch!”

“You’re a natural monarch,” Steve says, brushing sand off your nose gently.

The three of you work for a long while like that. Steve shapes towers and walls with his big, careful hands, while Bucky digs tunnels and hides treasure shells underneath the sand (“For adventurers later,” He says with a wink). Meanwhile, you are darting between them, giving orders, adding stick flags, and occasionally squashing the sand with your knees when things get too exciting.

At one point, you tug Steve’s hand and whisper, “Papa, look! I made a tiny throne!” and point to a lumpy mound near your castle.

He crouches beside you, looking at your creation with a warm smile. “That’s perfect, baby. Just your size.”

You plop onto it,sticking your legs out and puffing up proudly. “Now I’m da queen of da whole beach.”

Bucky bows low. “Queen of Shelltown.”

“Queen of Snacksville,” Steve adds with a smile.

You nod seriously. “I rule wif kindness… and naps.”

Sand coats your legs and arms, your cheeks are flushed pink from the sun and all the giggles, and there’s a little grain of sand stuck to your bottom lip, but you’re glowing from all the fun.

And when the tide starts creeping closer, Steve leans over and murmurs, “Wanna defend the castle, or let the waves have it?”

You consider that deeply, then whisper, “They can have it. I’ll build a new one. Wif you an’ Daddy.”

Steve kisses your temple. “Always, sweetheart.”

-

The castle’s been claimed by the tide, you had waved goodbye to Sir Pincie and Lady Clawdia, and now it’s ocean time.

Bucky crouches down beside you, holding your floatie. “Alright, sunshine. Arms up.”

You giggle and shoot both arms skyward. “Up, up, up!!”

He gently slides the floatie down over your head and around your tummy, adjusting the back. “There ya go. You’re officially donut-fied.”

Steve steps up beside you, brushing hair out of your face and slipping your goggles down over your eyes. “Ready to swim, baby?”

You nod furiously, bouncing in place. “Ready!! Wanna splash! Wanna gooooo!”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky chuckles, scooping you up into his arms. “Let’s get those little feet wet.”

As he carries you toward the water, your legs kick excitedly in the air. The waves rush up to greet you and Bucky sets you down in the shallows, keeping a hand on your floatie. “Whoa there, jellybean. Don’t go zoomin’ off just yet.”

The water laps at your knees and you squeal. When Bucky helps you a bit further to where you can float in the water, you exclaim with glee. “I’m floatin’! I’m a boat!! Papa, look!! I’m a boat!!”

Steve walks in beside you, letting the waves wash over his ankles as he chuckles. “Best boat I’ve ever seen. Might need to name you ‘Captain Giggles.’”

You dramatically turn the wheel of your imaginary ship. “Aye-aye, Captain Papa!”

Bucky lets you drift out a little more, still holding on. The floatie bobs up and down with the swell, and you squeal every time the water splashes up. “The ocean’s ticklin’ me!!”

“You’re lucky it likes you,” Bucky teases.

Another wave comes, bigger this time, and it lifts you gently, your floatie catching it just right. “WHOOOOA!!” You twist in the floatie and throw your arms up. “DO IT ‘GAIN!”

Steve laughs and nudges the float gently from behind so you rock back into Bucky’s waiting hands. “You’re fearless today, huh?”

You beam up at them through your goggles. “M’brave. ‘Cause I gots you two.”

Something about the way you say it makes both men soften instantly.

“That’s right, baby,” Steve murmurs. “You always got us.”

Forever, even when the tide rolls in.

-

After some more fun in the ocean, your floatie squeaks faintly as Bucky lifts you out of the water, droplets running down your legs and arms. “Okay, okay, little sea monster,” He says with a soft smile. “Time for snacks before you turn into a prune.”

You giggle, leaning your wet cheek against his shoulder. “I’m not a monster… I’m a…. mermaid now!”

“Even mermaids need snacks,” Steve calls from where he’s already crouched by the umbrella, unfolding a soft towel with cartoon sea creatures on it, the one you picked out at the store yourself and insisted “smells like sunshine.”

Bucky lowers you onto it, and Steve helps remove your floatie then immediately starts rubbing you down gently with another dry towel, working from your toes up with patient, warm hands. “You did a lot of splashing out there,” He says as he dries your hair with a little tousle. “You hungry, sweetheart?”

You nod dramatically. “M’really hungwy. Like…” You pause to think, then spread your arms wide, “…like this much hungry.”

Bucky chuckles as he pops open the cooler. “Well lucky for you, I packed the royal picnic. Your Majesty’s favorites.”

You scoot onto your knees and peek eagerly as he starts unpacking it all. Slices of juicy watermelon cut into stars, a crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into triangles just the way you like, a little container of goldfish crackers, and a juice box with a tiny superhero on it. Your mouth already waters just looking at the watermelon.

Steve sits cross-legged beside you, passing you the juice box with the straw already poked in. “Start with some sips, okay? You got lots of sun.”

You sip happily, legs folded under you. “Dis tastes like blue.”

“That’s ‘cause it is blue,” Bucky teases, handing you one of the watermelon stars on a tiny plastic fork. “Eat that before your sandwich. Hydration first.”

You crunch into it and immediately let out a content hum. “Mmmmmm. Cold!”

Both men smile as they eat alongside you, not rushing, not talking much. It’s just quiet, sun-warmed company. Seagulls squawk in the distance. Waves roll in soft and lazy now, like the ocean’s getting sleepy too. There’s sand on your knees, salt on your cheeks, and watermelon juice running down your chin.

Steve reaches over with a napkin and dabs your face gently. “You’re makin’ a mess, aren’t you?”

You look up at him, grinning. “I’m da mess queen.”

Bucky leans over and plants a kiss to your temple. “Then we must be the mess kings.”

You end up snuggled between them, leaning back against Bucky’s chest with your legs draped across Steve’s lap, half a sandwich in hand. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud, warming your face. You let out a little yawn around a bite.

Steve notices and brushes your damp hair back. “Sleepy?”

You shake your head slowly, though your body sags against Bucky. “Noooo. Jus’… comfy.”

Bucky pulls a second towel over your legs, letting you burrow in like a little cocoon. “That’s okay, sweetheart. You just rest. We’ve got you.”

“Uh-huh,” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed. “You always do.”

And they always will.

-

The sun is dipping low now, casting long golden streaks across the parking lot as Steve loads up the trunk. The beach towels are a little sandy, the cooler is mostly empty, and your floatie sits squished between the seats like a deflated donut. Everything smells like salt and sunscreen.

Bucky lifts you gently from where you were half-dozing under the umbrella, your cheeks warm and your limbs floppy with that worn-out, sun-drenched tiredness that only little ones know.

“C’mon, peanut,” He murmurs, cradling you close against his chest. “Time to go home.”

You mumble something into his shirt, mostly vowels and half-syllables, nothing real, but your arms curl around his neck automatically. He smiles, brushing a kiss into your damp hair.

The backseat’s already set up, your soft blanket with the stars and moons, Brownie resting nearby, and a small travel pillow that smells like home. Bucky settles you in carefully, buckling you up while keeping the blanket snug around your legs before shutting the door carefully and moving into the passenger’s seat.

Steve climbs into the driver’s seat and glances back at you in the rearview mirror. “All set, sweetheart?”

You blink slowly, eyes heavy. “Goin’ home?”

“That’s right,” He says, starting the engine. “You did so good today. Brave in the water, kind to the sand crabs, full of giggles. I’m proud of you.”

You smile sleepily, turning your head toward the window as the car pulls away from the beach. The world passes by in a blur of fading light, palm trees, street signs, the occasional swoop of a bird overhead. Your eyelids flutter, heavier with every mile.

Bucky twists in his seat, watching you for a moment. His voice is softer now. “Get some rest, babydoll. We’ll be home soon.”

You hum softly, barely awake, your fingers curling in the corner of your blanket. “You stay wif me?”

“Always,” He whispers. “Not going anywhere.”

The car hums along the road, the sound of tires and the occasional song from the radio blending into the perfect lullaby. Steve drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting quietly on Bucky’s thigh, and the two of them share a look, the kind that says everything without words.

And in the back seat, warm and all out of energy from the big day… you drift off to sleepy, safe and loved as ever.