bucky and reader have a teenage son (grant), and their house is the hangout spot...all his friends love being there. one day grant brings home a new friend who’s a little quieter, and bucky + reader notice he needs some extra love. they start doing small things to make him feel safe until he finally asks why they’re being so kind, and grant just says, “that’s just who my parents are.” 🥺 maybe a sweet moment with them too?
OMG STOP IT
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It wasn’t uncommon to find half the high school soccer team in your kitchen on a Friday afternoon.
Bucky had learned to keep extra snacks stocked in the pantry, and you’d learned to never question the sound of the fridge door slamming followed by a chorus of teenage laughter.
Grant, your sixteen-year-old, had his father’s grin and your stubborn streak. And somehow, the kid had managed to inherit the very best part of both of you—his warmth. The same way Bucky pulled people into his orbit, Grant did too. Which was why you never minded when your home became the unofficial hangout spot.
“Mom, can we order pizza?” Grant yelled from the living room, already surrounded by his usual crew—Nate, Eli, and Ben.
“You mean, can I order pizza?” you teased, walking past with a basket of folded laundry. “What happened to that allowance you begged for?”
“It’s gone!” another voice chimed in—Eli, if you recognized it right. “We spent it all on snacks at the gas station last week.”
Bucky, passing through behind you, pressed a kiss to your cheek and smirked. “They’re growing boys, doll. We’ll get the pizza.”
“Of course we will,” you sighed fondly, rolling your eyes.
Then, that day, Grant’s newest friend showed up.
His name was Ryan.
He was quiet. Polite to a fault. Always a half-step behind the others.
You noticed it right away—the way he froze when Bucky ruffled his hair in greeting, or how he never grabbed food first, always waiting until everyone else had eaten.
He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. And when Bucky offered him a soda, he murmured a soft thank you that sounded more like an apology.
Something in your chest ached.
By the second weekend, he was there again—shoulders tight, shoes neatly lined up by the door even though the others left theirs in a chaotic pile. You caught Bucky watching him too, a frown pulling at his mouth.
When the boys all went downstairs to play video games, Bucky murmured quietly, “He reminds me of me at that age.”
You turned toward him, brows softening. “You noticed too?”
“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Kid doesn’t know how to relax. Keeps waitin’ for somethin’ to go wrong.”
So the two of you started small.
You packed an extra sandwich when the boys came over. You made sure Ryan’s favorite chips were stocked. Bucky gave him one of his old flannels after he showed up shivering from the rain, brushing it off like it was nothing—“It’s an old one, kid. Keep it.”
The next time he came over, Ryan hesitated at the threshold again. But when he saw the shoes lined up—Bucky’s boots, your slippers, and the sneakers of half a dozen teens—something in his shoulders eased.
By the fourth weekend, he was laughing.
Actually laughing. Louder than you’d ever heard.
You’d just walked into the living room carrying a tray of cookies when you saw them: Bucky sitting on the floor beside the couch, playfully arguing over a video game score, Grant elbowing Ryan, and Ryan laughing so hard his eyes scrunched closed.
It hit you right in the heart.
You must’ve made a sound, because Bucky looked up, caught your expression, and gave you that look—the one that said, yeah, I see it too.
Later that night, when the boys went out to shoot hoops, Ryan lingered behind. You’d been tidying up when you heard quiet voices drifting from the porch.
“Hey, uh,” Ryan started, his voice soft. “Why do you guys keep… doing stuff for me?”
Grant sounded confused. “What do you mean?”
“Like… your parents. They buy food for everyone, sure, but they always make sure there’s the chips I like. And your dad—he fixed my bike chain last week. I didn’t even ask.”
There was a pause. You peeked through the screen door, unseen.
Grant shrugged like it was obvious. “That’s just who they are, man. They do that for everyone. They care. You don’t have to earn it or anything.”
Ryan was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t really get that,” he admitted softly. “People don’t usually… care like that.”
Grant kicked a pebble down the driveway. “Then you’ve been around the wrong people.”
You found Bucky leaning against the counter behind you, having overheard too. His jaw was tight, eyes wet.
“Doll,” he murmured, voice rough, “that kid’s breakin’ my heart.”
“I know,” you whispered. “But he’s here. That’s something.”
And then, you both stepped outside.
Ryan startled when he saw you, like he was afraid he’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Hey,” you said gently, crossing your arms against the cool air. “You boys need anything? Water? More snacks?”
He shook his head quickly. “No, ma’am. We’re good. Sorry, I—uh, didn’t mean to—”
You stepped closer and smiled, soft but firm. “Ryan. You never have to apologize for being here, okay? You’re always welcome.”
Bucky came up beside you, draping an arm around your shoulders. “She’s right, kid. You come here as much as you want. This house’ll always have room for you.”
Ryan blinked fast, eyes shiny. He nodded once, then again, biting his lip. “Thanks, Mr. Barnes. Mrs. Barnes.”
Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “You can drop the ‘Mr.’ and ‘Mrs.’ Makes me feel old. Just Bucky and—”
“Mom,” Grant interrupted from the porch step, grinning. “Everyone calls her Mom anyway.”
You laughed, heart squeezing when Ryan’s lips twitched like he wanted to.
Weeks turned into months.
Ryan came around more often. He started showing up even when Grant wasn’t home—just to help Bucky in the garage, or sit at the counter while you cooked, talking about his week. His voice grew louder, steadier. He smiled easier.
Sometimes you’d catch him staring at a family photo on the wall—Grant on Bucky’s shoulders, you laughing beside them—and he’d smile, small and wistful. You’d pretend not to notice, just hand him a cookie, and he’d take it every time.
One night, after a particularly long game, he hugged you goodbye. Hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.
You hugged him back, strong and sure. “Take care of yourself, sweetheart,” you murmured.
He nodded against your shoulder. “You too… Mom.”
When he pulled away, his eyes were glassy—but this time, he was smiling. Really smiling.
Bucky caught your hand once the door closed. “You know,” he said softly, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say we just adopted another one.”
You squeezed his fingers. “Maybe we did.”
And from outside, a voice called, “Love you guys!”
You looked at each other, hearts full, and Bucky grinned. “Told ya, doll. House of love right here.”
acquaintance dropped into the group chat to request we try out out he/him pronouns for him and the response was a string of "yes sir" "sure king" "we got u bossman" . local discord server turns into a gang of gender affirming henchmen.
My sister was telling me that she and her girlfriend went on a ghost tour for their anniversary, and at one point the tour guide mentioned there was a spooky haunted doll down inside a vent but phone flashlights usually weren't powerful enough to see it, so my sister whipped out the industrial-strength flashlight she carries in her purse at all times and the guide exclaimed "Oh! We should have lesbians on every tour!"
"i want to show my friends the media i enjoy but its not considered good so i wont" is such a bad thought process. i once made my friends watch my favourite childhood movie with me which has a 1% rating on rotten tomatoes and i cackled with glee as they groaned in agony for an hour and a half. but yknow what? thats what friends are for.
People with most mainstream tastes imaginable should not open their mouth on how anti piracy they are btw. Yea no shit you can depend on legal sources to watch Marvel and listen to tswift and Maroon 5. Thank you so much for signing the petition to close that platform that was the only one i could download this 2008 romanian dungeon synth ep from
Cheryl Dunye’s directorial debut, The Watermelon Woman, was out of print between 2000 and 2018. Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace was only available to watch on a pirate channel on YouTube until last year. There is still no way to watch the X-Files spinoff, The Lone Gunmen except to own a dvd box set that has been out of print since 2005. Or to pirate it. It’s on YouTube.
Piracy is incredibly important to keep media that’s weird, or out there or just embarrassing to someone in power, alive. We need piracy and we need to stop being snitches when someone pirates stuff.
not to Discourse but I’m a cis man and my partner is an afab enby and if you call us a “straight couple” I will personally come to your house tie you to a chair and make you listen to a podcast about gender identity on endless repeat
this is specifically @ the people who saw us at pride together and saw them wearing a “THEY/THEM” button and still referred to them as my “girlfriend” you’re all cancelled thanks
y'know the really amazing thing about the notes on this post - apart from just the sheer number of people who are, like, viscerally terrified of the existence of a person who isn’t cis - is how many of them are responding to things that aren’t here. specifically, you’ll notice I said nothing about my sexuality. I didn’t say I identified as non-het, or that I considered myself part of the LGBTQIA community. on the flip side, I also didn’t give you any reason to believe I’m not bi, or that I’ve never been in a relationship with a cis man. y'all know nothing about my sexuality from this post and you don’t need to and I’m not going to tell you about it now because! this post! was not! about me!
it was about respecting my partner’s identity. and the fact that they don’t get that respect from people in the exact community that they should be able to count on getting it from.
ie, you.
they are not het or cis, and no relationship they are in will ever be a “straight relationship” because they. are not. het. or. cis.
everyone in the notes gatekeeping me because I’m “not oppressed”? I never said I was. the person you’re really attacking and invalidating by shitting on this post is them, a pansexual nonbinary person who is unerasably queer.
huh. it’s almost as if the whole “we can’t let straight men use queerness to worm their way into our community” discourse is just an excuse to hate trans people, isn’t it.
Classic red cup with a wooden stick. We all know it, love it, and have seen a cartoon character using it to unclog a toilet. Right?
WRONG.
The image above is actually a drain plunger, used on sinks, showers, and baths. Not on toilets.
These are a toilet plungers.
Take note of the variations. Each of them have a flange of sorts at the bottom, either connected via a cup or more accordion-like tube. These are designed to actually get down into the toilet bowl where it flushes down, giving it more space and leverage to unclog blockages. See the example below:
Notice how the flange allows it to go deeper into the toilet to provide more power to the plunge. Sink/drain plungers are far less efficient and effective at the task.
Sink plungers can also have an accordion shape to help with power in plunging, but crucially do not have or need the flange that toilet plungers do.
To recap: cup plungers are for sinks, showers, bathtubs, and other drains. Flange and accordion plungers are for toilets. Notably, accordion plungers are slightly harder to use, but are more powerful when used correctly than their flange counterparts.
So the next time you see a cartoon, video game, or stock art depicting a cup plunger being used on a toilet, you can feel the same levels of anger and emotion that I do!
The real question is why does this not have a million notes? This is information that will very likely, at some point, be incredibly useful to anyone who has indoor plumbing. Which is, you know, probably, 99.99% of this website's user base. (I'm sure there's someone out there using Tumblr who lives in a house built in 1850 which never got upgraded and they still have an outhouse rather than toilet.)
Honestly my best advice for any trans woman coming here from Twitter is to obviously install shinigami eyes so that you can tell who's a crypto terf or whatever. But also to genuinely just search terf and radfem keywords and just go down the list and block like 300 people.
And then to take that a step further (because no amount of blocking is enough unfortunately) when they start interacting with your content, don't just block that person, take the time to go through their blog and block who they reblog from. Then if you notice one name popping up in the notes more than usual, go to that person's blog and do the same thing.
Deny then access. Don't prune the weeds, scorch the earth.
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