thewalkinglamppost

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Velvet|MyLaurie|Day27

Won’t you spend the night with me?

Metalhead au Steve Bucky

back in my mcu era woah

You know, I'll never disappear Now get us out of here

#MyLaurieWeek Day 2: Strawberry

We late again (by a few hours) let's goooooooo.

I suppose the important part is getting it done period though, so I'm sure you'll forgive me, right?

Right?

That being said yeesh I need a new scanner, this was hell to tweak after I scanned it, as I made the fatal error of using the colours red and pink, which my scanner always blows the fuck out of, making the image look terrible. But I got there eventually god damn.

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It's the time again!

#MyLaurieWeek Day 1: Mermay

Now now lovelies, don't think I've forgotten just because I was late on the very first day! I just had a baby shower to attend.

That being said, glad I stuck my neck out and tried something a little different with the colouring here. I love it.

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Strawberry|MyLaurie|Day 26

Hm,what an odd strawberry, kinda looks like something...oh well! It was sweet!

alt designs of Strange Magic (2015) characters Bog King and Marianne

Mermay|MyLaurie|Day May 25

I know I am a day late and will probably be for the next ones too, like the theme is ‘ Strawberry’ today and I got no strawberries! 🥲🍓

Anywho, I really liked the idea of Laurie and Michael being some type of oceanic predator and settled for an Orca and Leopard Seal. It just seemed to fit, especially since Orcas are known as “Killer Whales” and Leopard seals are hunters in their own right! But, Orcas have been known to hunt Leopard seals on occasion too and pairing that with the thrill of the chase?! 💋🤌

Day 2: Strawberry. Michael just won't eat the berry normally.

Day 1: Mermay. He saved her from a bunch of humans who hunted her for mermaid meat.

And it has begun! The second MyLaurie Week. HAVE FUN!

躲

是给520迈劳活动的贺图🥳🥳

They should be together... I hate marvel writers

+ sketches

Some analysis about Steve.

English is not my native language and I cannot guarantee that I am professional

Attachment Theory

Developed by John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, attachment theory posits that early relationships with caregivers shape an individual's emotional bonds and sense of security (Bowlby, 1969). Caregivers, typically the mother or primary caretaker, provide psychological safety, enabling infants or children to confidently explore the world and return for comfort and support when needed. During this period, the mother serves as the child's primary "secure base," a primal instinct that persists into later life, extending to friends and loved ones in adulthood.

In Captain America, Steve Rogers' pre-serum life is depicted as frail, socially marginalized, and frequently bullied. His childhood friend, Bucky Barnes, emerges as Steve’s primary attachment figure, offering protection and affirmation. Scenes of Bucky shielding Steve from bullies and encouraging his resilience establish Bucky as a "secure base," a reliable source of safety that fosters exploration and resilience (Ainsworth, 1989). These early interactions cultivate a relatively secure attachment in Steve, characterized by trust and emotional reliance on Bucky. Notably, the model suggests early experiences shape enduring expectations of caregiver reliability.

Steve’s attachment deepens through shared trauma during World War II. In *Captain America: The First Avenger*, Bucky’s capture by Hydra and Steve’s rescue mission at Azzano solidify their mutual dependence. Bucky’s fall from the train, presumed fatal, triggers Steve’s grief response, aligning with Bowlby’s concept of "separation distress," where the loss of an attachment figure disrupts emotional equilibrium.

Steve’s initial reaction to Bucky’s fall—staring in disbelief at the spot where he vanished, later drinking alone in a bombed-out bar—signals acute separation distress, a hallmark of attachment loss (Bowlby, 1969). Bowlby’s theory outlines grief stages following attachment loss in childhood: protest, despair, and detachment. Steve’s protest phase manifests in his refusal to fully accept Bucky’s death, telling Peggy Carter, “I should’ve grabbed him” (Johnston & Markus, 2011), reflecting guilt and a desire to undo the loss. The despair phase is evident in his withdrawal and self-sacrificial act of crashing the Valkyrie into the Arctic, suggesting Bucky’s absence diminished Steve’s sense of purpose. Unlike typical detachment, Steve’s grief is interrupted by 70 years of cryogenic preservation, leaving him in an unresolved state of loss, later manifesting as chronic grief.

Steve’s subsequent self-sacrifice—crashing the Valkyrie—reflects an internalization of Bucky’s absence, as Steve’s identity is deeply tied to their shared past. In *Captain America: The Winter Soldier*, discovering Bucky alive but brainwashed reignites this attachment. Steve’s refusal to fight Bucky on the helicarrier, stating, “I’m with you to the end of the line,” reveals an enduring attachment bond, driven in part by a desire to restore the security Bucky once provided.

Erik Erikson’s theory of "identity formation" further explains Steve’s attachment. Erikson posits that identity develops through relationships and social experiences, particularly during crises. Steve’s pre-serum identity as a “little guy from Brooklyn” is inseparable from Bucky’s support. In Erikson’s eight-stage theory, the fifth stage (adolescence, ages 12–18) is critical, with the core conflict being *Identity vs. Role Confusion*. In *Civil War*, Steve’s defense of Bucky against Tony Stark and global authorities reflects an identity crisis: abandoning Bucky would betray the self that Bucky helped shape. Thus, Steve’s attachment is not only emotional but existential, anchoring his sense of continuity in a disorienting post-war world.

Existentialism

From an existentialist perspective, Steve’s attachment to Bucky aligns with Jean-Paul Sartre’s concept of authenticity, which involves embracing the freedom and responsibility to define oneself (Sartre, 1943). Steve views Bucky as a touchstone for his authentic self—the Brooklyn kid fighting for justice, not America’s icon. In *The Winter Soldier*, despite Bucky’s transformation into the Winter Soldier, Steve recognizes him, reflecting a refusal to accept the “nothingness” of Bucky’s lost identity. Sartre’s notion of “existence precedes essence” asserts that humans first exist and then define their essence through choices and actions. Steve believes Bucky’s essence—his goodness—persists beneath Hydra’s conditioning, driving his actions. This is evident when Steve drops his shield, choosing vulnerability over combat to reach Bucky’s buried self.

Steve’s persistence also resonates with Martin Heidegger’s “being-toward-death,” which suggests confronting mortality sharpens one’s purpose (Heidegger, 1927). Bucky’s death and Steve’s near-death experiences (the Valkyrie crash, the helicarrier battle) bind them in a shared existential outlook. For Steve, Bucky represents a living link to a past intertwined with death and meaning. In *Civil War*, Steve’s fracturing of the Avengers to protect Bucky underscores this existential commitment, viewing Bucky not as a threat but as a symbol of life and values worth preserving.

Phenomenology

Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology, emphasizing intersubjectivity and embodied perception, illuminates how Steve’s perception of Bucky shapes their bond (Merleau-Ponty, 1945). Steve’s view of Bucky is rooted in their shared lifeworld—a pre-war Brooklyn defined by loyalty and mutual care. In *The Winter Soldier*, Steve gazes at the masked Winter Soldier and pleads, “You know me,” an act of phenomenological recognition. Merleau-Ponty posits that the self is constituted through the presence of others: “I am not in front of my body, I am in it, or rather I am it.” The self emerges through interactions with others’ gazes, words, and actions. Steve’s embodied memories of Bucky—their shared past—override the Winter Soldier’s programming, evident in Bucky’s hesitation to kill him.

In Civil War, Steve and Bucky’s reunion in Bucharest further embodies this intersubjective dynamic. Despite global accusations, Steve refuses to see Bucky as a weapon, reflecting a phenomenological affirmation of Bucky’s living humanity. Their physical cooperation against authorities embodies a pre-reflective trust, what Merleau-Ponty describes as the fundamental “coexistence” of human connection. Thus, Steve’s attachment is not abstract but visceral, grounded in the bodily and emotional reality of their shared past.

“Phenomenological identity” refers to an understanding of identity from a phenomenological perspective, distinct from traditional psychological or sociological categorizations (e.g., gender or cultural identity). It focuses on how one experiences and confirms “I am me” through lived interactions with the world and others. For example, identifying as “a little guy from Brooklyn” is not a mere label but emerges through how Steve treats others, how they respond, and how he feels “this is me” in those interactions. For Merleau-Ponty, the body is the medium of world interaction, and relationships are rooted in shared bodily practices. For Steve and Bucky, their pre-war Brooklyn life and wartime camaraderie—marked by physical gestures like Bucky’s arm around Steve’s shoulder, fighting side by side, and trusting glances—are disrupted by Bucky’s fall, leaving Steve with an inner void.

In The First Avenger, Steve clutches a glass of liquor in a bar, unable to get drunk due to his super-soldier metabolism, embodying this loss. His enhanced body, unable to save Bucky, amplifies the pain of separation (Merleau-Ponty, 1945). This phenomenological trauma persists into *The Winter Soldier*. Steve’s body—running, punching bags until they burst—externalizes his inner pain, a futile attempt to reclaim the intersubjective rhythm shared with Bucky. Merleau-Ponty’s concept of “intercorporeality”—the co-constitution of selves through bodily presence—explains the significance of Steve’s reunion with Bucky. Seeing Bucky alive, even as the Winter Soldier, reawakens Steve’s embodied memories, expressed in his desperate plea, “You know me” (Wadlow & Markus, 2014). Thus, separation distress is not abstract but a disruption of Steve’s bodily being-in-the-world, a longing for the tactile and perceptual presence Bucky once provided.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier | 2014 Captain America: Brave New World | 2025

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011)

nah since marvel is trending again I’m going to say it again louder for the people in back — canon steve rogers would never have chosen an “idyllic 1950s white pickett fence life” because the only place that man belonged was a picket LINE. the whole point of his character was that his work was never done. there was always going to be another oppressor, another bully, another person who takes advantage of the underprivileged for him to stand up to. from the moment he gained consciousness he, a chronically ill son of a working class mother living below the poverty line, used his voice and his body to protect & fight for what he believed in. I’m not sure there was ever a time pre-super soldier serum where he didn’t have a black eye. he could put the shield down all he wanted but he could never retire from being steve rogers — someone who never once turned a blind eye, who never once wanted a “reward” for his work, who never once abandoned his friends. this isn’t up for debate. this is almost a century of comic book & film/animated precedent. he may have been a man out of time, but in his words “it’s tempting to want to live in the past. it’s familiar, it’s comfortable. but it’s where fossils come from”

guys, i think we're back

sketchdump

goat fight. non-negotiable.

Bucky mentally preparing himself for death is so fucking upsetting because after all of the torture he went through, after all of the physical and mental pain, he survived because Steve saved him, and here he is ready to die for him. He lets himself have this moment of fear because he knows what’s coming, he knows that he’s going to die and he allows himself to accept how scared he really is. He knew what he was getting in to when he made the choice to fight side by side with Steve (because what other choice was there really?), and part of him probably always knew this was how it would end - he was either going to live for Steve or die for him, the only thing left for him to do was to acknowledge his unhappy ending when the time came.

“My whole journey with Marvel was because of Scarlett trusting me and Scarlett wanting me to join her movie six years ago,” Pugh tells in support of the May 2 theatrical release of Thunderbolts*. “So I always miss her presence. It was such a mean thing … that [Black Widow] was the first and the last time I would get to experience this world with her. But I am genuinely always just hoping that she’s proud.”

On Steve Rogers, loss, and loneliness

Unlike some of the other characters, Steve's hurt isn't as plain to the eye. His demeanour is usually one of stoicism and optimism, and it is easy to forget that his story is steeped in loss and loneliness.

Steve's introduction highlighted how alone he was - an orphan, armed with a list of ailments, and hiding behind a newspaper to avoid small chat with other recruits. When rejected by the recruitment centre, Steve shrugs and heads to watch a movie - alone.

Steve is a loner, we are shown, and then just as abruptly - perhaps just like the way it had happened many years ago - Bucky crashes into Steve's world and hooks an arm around his shoulders and noisily talks about an expo and dispels all of Steve's melancholic air. Steve is a loner, except for Bucky.

But Bucky is now leaving to go to war.

Steve is used to being stoic, because there were no adults around him to spoil him. He is used to being buoyant, because Sarah taught him how to pick himself up and carry on. Steve is used facing the empty house and lonely silence -- except for Bucky, who filled his room with chatter, "We can put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids."

So when we hear the anxious strain in his voice as he is informed by Bucky that he is leaving -- it also becomes plain that Steve is also used to loss, or the threat of loss shadowing him, everyday.

In his short life, he has already lost so much. He has lost his health (my thought is he was probably healthier in his early childhood until he caught scarlet fever, and then his health got a lot worse after that). He has lost his father, and all the security of having a family breadwinner. He has lost his mother - to long hours of work and eventually to the disease she was battling against.

What he dreads would happen, does happen. Life seems to have a way of chasing him down like that. Sarah gets sick, and his fear of coming home to find her gone...one day inevitably comes true.

At his darkest moment, Bucky squeezes his shoulder and promises, "You don't have to do it (alone). I'm with you to the end of the line."

It's just enough for Steve to square his shoulders and push on, as Sarah had always taught him to do. Deep inside - possibly buried so deep that he can barely put it into words, he knows that he pulled through because "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."

I'm going to pause here and emphasise how deeply lonely (and young) Steve was, and how, naturally, the only stable presence — ie Bucky — in his life, through periods of terrible grief and uncertainty, is going to be such a deep-rooted emotional foundation for him (regardless of how you ship).

When the draft does come for Bucky, it's not just Bucky who's unhappy, it's Steve who's also aghast. Suddenly, the possibility of losing his last bastion looms over him, and he remembers the fear and anxiety and the devastating grief of losing Sarah. But it is also a war that needs fighting - so he comes up with a solution: sign himself up. He can't keep Bucky from the war, but he wants to fight alongside him. Besides Bucky, what else does he have to lose?

"Men are laying down their lives, I have no right to do any less. That's what you don't understand, Bucky."

He says this angrily, because the words he can't say aloud are, "You are laying down your life, Bucky, and I might never see you again, and I can't go through all that again, not by myself."

When he hears about the 107th being captured, he has to go. He is saving Bucky, sure, but he is also saving himself, because the pillar, the lifebuoy, the harness that has kept him afloat all those years is Bucky, and he's terrified of sinking.

The serum makes him taller and more women pause to smile at him, but he is still incredibly alone. He sits alone during break, he draws alone in his book, he runs off alone and none of the USO girls even notices until it's his turn on stage.

But Bucky notices him immediately, and says, "I thought you were smaller," and, "Did it hurt?"

Steve doesn't really believe in miracles. His whole life feels like one bad luck after another, even if he forces one foot in front of another and keeps marching on. But maybe at that moment, he feels like Bucky is his miracle. Bucky, who always seems to notice when he's alone and pulls him into his social circle. Bucky, who had seen him lose his dad and Sarah and promised him the end of the line. Bucky, who he - and all the commanders - thought was dead, pulls through and gives him another promise - that he would follow the little guy back into war.

When Steve is finally thrust into the frontline, the losses keeps mounting, man after man are falling, condolence letter after letter is being written. And then towards the end of 1944, the tides seem to finally turn. German forces are waning, the Allied forces are advancing, and quietly, secretly, Steve dreams of home.

And that dream dies with Bucky.

"Honour the dignity of his choice," he is told, but he can't shake off the guilt.

He pushes himself forward, step by dragging step. Nazi Germany is falling. He is taking down Hydra with his own hands…and at the end, he buries them all in the ocean with himself.

His is sinking, but he isn’t afraid, because he is going where all the people who mattered are waiting.

And he is denied even that.

He opens his eyes to a world he doesn’t recognise. They tell him they had won the war.

But no one wants to speak with him about what was lost.

A folder of old photos, the museum of unmoving murals, the silent movies of a smile he would never see again.

He thought he had lost all there was to lose, but somehow life always seem to find something else to take.

What we see of off-duty Steve in the modern world is once again a figure of loneliness. He goes to the gym alone, he goes for a ride on the train alone, he sits at the cafe alone, he goes for runs alone, he goes to the museum alone.

Only during those solitary moments he could truly be Steve Rogers, instead of trying to meet everyone's expectations of Captain America. He is just shy of 27 years old, but suddenly, he can no longer lay claim to youth. Only a dream ago he was "just a kid from Brooklyn", and now he's an "old-fashioned" (as per Coulson) "older fellow" (as per Tony).

He's in the history books, he's on the television, he's in the classrooms; everyone knows of Captain America, but Steve Rogers is lost.

He had been willing to lose his life on the Valkyrie, but what he lost was every living connection and his own identity.

"Must have freaked you out, coming home after the whole defrosting thing," the friendly man says to him on their first meeting, but Sam only knows half of it.

The too soft bed and the too quiet room is one thing, the unshakeable nightmares another, but the worst of it is -- this isn't home.

He is marooned in a place that bears eerie resemblance to the world he knew, without being familiar.

Until the moment Bucky's mask comes off.

It's like the anchor dropping. He's now got a connection tethering him to this strange place, someone with "shared experience" that means he is no longer alone, and he is no longer a ghost forgotten by the seventy years of lost time.

"He doesn't know you."

"He will."

He has to believe that Bucky will, because Bucky is proof that Steve Rogers exists.

And once again, Bucky is his miracle. On the brink of killing them both, Bucky reels back from his brainwashing and hauls them both to safety.

Even if Bucky leaves after that, he's left behind something Steve hasn't had for a long time -- hope, and belonging.

"Family, stability. The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago," he says to Tony as he prepares to meet the ragged team of enhanced people that is to become the Avengers. "I'm home."

Stoic and buoyant as he has always been, Steve sets to work building that home for himself. Gradually, we see Steve open up. He forms new connections and new friendships, he talks about his vulnerabilities with people he trusts, and he reclaims his own identity. He looks for Bucky, and waits until Bucky is ready to build that home for himself.

Until it is once again blown apart by the end of Infinity War - he loses not just Bucky, the anchor to his past, but the new family he has made apart from Natasha.

That's why it makes sense that Steve, not Tony, is the one working so hard to reverse the Snap. His family was 5 years ago, Tony's family is now. The people who rallied behind Steve and not Captain America, the people who followed him after he dropped the shield, the people with whom he no longer needed to be endlessly lonely and tirelessly stoic and who loved him for who Steve Rogers was, they all vanished in the Snap.

So even if there was only a small hope, Steve wants them back.

And that's why his decision to leave everything he had built, the sacrifices he had made to bring them back, in order to go into a life of incredibly loneliness and deception is still the dumbest narrative faux pas in the MCU.

So I know the event is @catws-anniversary but this is actually one of my favourite Steve-Bucky scenes.

There's been a lot spoken about their seamless teamwork here -- Steve doesn't even look in Bucky's direction when he tosses the shield at Bucky -- but there is just...so much packed into this fluid cooperation?

Bucky as far as we know in CATFA was a sniper (although in the supporting material it does say Bucky learned boxing before he joined the army). It's only when we get to CATWS we see him being a strong melee fighter. A lot of Bucky's new fighting style takes into account his metal arm -- he favours it for blocking and forceful striking to spare his flesh arm. He's also spent most of his recent decades doing mostly solo work. He had backup support during CATWS to get him into position, but actually on task? He's by himself chasing down his targets.

This is the first time Bucky fights on Steve's side after his time as the Winter Soldier. Depending on how you headcanon Bucky receiving his serum, this would also be the first time Steve treats Bucky as an equally strong super soldier. Bucky's experience, fighting style, physical constitution have all significantly changed since the last time they were on the field together, not to mention Steve's own style and experience have evolved.

Yet they slotted straight back into each other's space, like they had never spent a minute apart in the last 70 years. Apart from the "end of the line" spell-break, nothing else speaks such volumes about their bond.

(Also goddamn CEvans with that beautiful pirouette. No wonder the stuntspeople say they can't replicate his footwork)

laundry day

Missing them.

🔪🪡🖤✨