I thought you were more than just a shield.

So I guess you’re gonna have to sell the Beemer, and give your notice at the country club, and kick whatever fashion drug you’re on because if you think that after all the bridges you’ve burned, after all the shit you’ve said, after everything that you’ve put this family through for the last ten years, that any of us are going to support you, that any of us are going to give you, like dad liked to say, a single red dime, you’re nuts.

The author's proudly displayed fetish

The author's fetish you're pretty sure they don't realise they have

The author's fetish which they're firmly convinced everyone has and is just pretending otherwise

The author's non-sexual special interest which just sounds like a fetish because of their habitually unfortunate phrasing

The fetish the author is making a well-meaning effort to cater to in spite of clearly not understanding it themselves

The author's fetish that never quite makes it into the text because they keep getting sidetracked by the requisite worldbuilding

The author's utterly pedestrian sexual preference which the text treats like a bizarre fetish because they've got shit to work through

The author's seemingly innocuous recurring trope they're going to have a personal revelation about ten years down the road

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes

“Where are we going?” “The future.”