Things I read that make me think specifically about Bucky Barnes as a character.
Both excerpted from What is Transhumanism, or, what does it mean to be human?
I figure I’ll need them for writing or something. Seriously though you guys. Someone find me a university with a masters program in comics and modern philosophy. I’m having all of these thoughts anyway. I might as well put them to good use.
endlessfog's ASMR fic is becoming improbably longer. Hm. I should start bribing myself with this. If you just write the damn thing you need to write, then you can write all about Sam's morning paper. Jerk.
Bucky was on his knees under the stream of steaming water with his cheek pressed to her stomach, his fingers curled around her waist. The thumb of his right hand was idly stroking the round knot of scar tissue over her hip bone. “I remember this,” he said.
“You should.” She smirked down at him and carded the fingers of both her hands through his hair. “It was a crazy night. One of our craziest.”
“Don’t deflect,” he said in a slight sing-song, mimicking Sam’s common admonishment to him. But then, in his own voice, “I’m sorry. I would never have done anything to hurt you.”
“Yeah, you would have,” she said carefully. “But so would I at one time. Barton could just as easily have been sent for you as me and maybe our places would be reversed.”
Bucky chuckled and kissed the soft skin beneath her belly button. “Something tells me Barton wouldn’t have found me as charming as he found you.”
“I doubt trying to strangle a guy with his own bow is the way to win men over. Not that I’d know.”
“True,” he said, kissing her again. “You don’t have to win men over.”
“And you don’t have to apologize so often. You know we’re all keeping a tally, right?”
She was kidding. She was probably kidding, but Bucky had also been keeping a tally. He knew how much he sounded like a broken record. He could feel the skips and the dust in his grooves whenever someone even came close to mentioning something he’d done in his past life, or when his sudden episodes inconvenienced them, or when he didn’t remember the inside jokes he and Steve had had all those years before. It was just that he didn’t know what else to say. He was sorry and he was still working out how to atone for it. He doubted Steve and Sam would be interested in the regimen he and Natalia seemed to be laying out.
The water was hitting her at the nape of her neck and flowing down over her shoulders, creating a deep red curtain out of her hair and webbing down her body as it worked its way over her curves. Looking up from where he was kneeling she looked mythic and, due to the bulb in the shower being out, dark. Except now she seemed to stand out against it instead of blend into it. Natalia had always looked like vengeance to him but somehow, with these clear eyes with the dull roar behind them, she looked a little like she’d been painted thinly over with justice. Maybe that would happen for him as well.
Bucky let go of her waist and slid his hands around to her back, pulling her into a tight hug and crushing against her. She laughed, low in her throat, and it came out as husky, tremulous exhalations carrying just a tinge of her voice. Natalia moved from side to side a bit, loosening his grip until she could slide down to her knees in front of him. She rested her arms over his shoulders and pressed her face into his neck, kissing the curve of it from jaw to shoulder.
“James,” she breathed. “You have nothing to atone for.”
Repeat after me, kiddos: Bucky Barnes did not choose to be a “villain.”
Lets say it again, a bit louder now: Bucky Barnes did not choose to be a “villain.”
Bucky Barnes did bad things only because he was brainwashed.
Bucky Barnes would have chosen to be a hero.
Bucky Barnes has a good heart and good intentions.
Bucky Barnes did not choose to be a “villain.”