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like this for a follow from the new blog
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like this post if you want me to carry over our existing threads to the new blog
#some of you don’t have a choice but I thought this would be the courteous thing to do#❪ ⠀ * ⠀ gen ⠀﹕ ⠀ooc. ⠀ ❫#i actually don’t properly write with a whole bunch of you 😭😭😭#crying shame
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I speak a lot about guilt on here but not so much about shame and that’s probably because the very nature of that emotion begs to be hidden. Guilt is now a thread woven into the essence of Bucky but shame exists even deeper than that. It’s difficult to comprehend just how utterly naked Bucky was stripped by Hydra. Thoughts, emotions, hopes, dreams. The amputation, the surgery, the brain surgery. Everything done without consent. Everything done without consideration of the fact that he was, in fact, a man. Everything that makes him human, shat on. He was turned essentially into a human flesh puppet that Hydra had a hand inside of. That in itself is sickening and a state of vulnerability that I don’t think Bucky will ever shake himself free from. Add onto that now the things he performed as that puppet? Guilt, yes, but also the unshakeable feeling of responsibility for acts done with his own hands, the belief that if he was better, stronger, smarter, he wouldn’t have found himself in that position. Guilt is loud and piercing; shame is quiet and suffocating. Now on top that, the Winter Soldier’s story slowly spreads. Not everyone knows details but they know enough, “Brainwashed assassin turned against his own country, probably not accountable for his actions but it’s a grey area.” It’s one thing for people to not know whether you’re a good or a bad guy. Honestly, he’s a bit conflicted himself, but that’s a whole other story. He feels humiliated to know that other people know what he’s gone through - violation, torture, experimentation. People know he’s had his brain fucked with, people know he’s been strapped down and helpless on operating tables, people know he wasn’t able to defend himself. And that to him is shameful, humiliating, and why he automatically feels far too vulnerable in the presence of someone who knows what he’s been through and feels sympathy or pity towards him.
#abuse mention#don’t normally tag for triggers generally but this is#the first time I’m being this explicit on here I think#❪ ⠀ ⠀ bucky ⠀﹕ ⠀files & about & headcanon. ⠀ ❫
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thesilverandjetsystem : moon knight ,
Taking the offered hand, Moon Knight sucked in a groan, joints popping and snapping as he stood. Part of the job. They punish their bodies as much as they punish others. Maybe more so. “No hospital,” he said, wobbling as he stood unassisted.
Bucky is sceptical, hover-handing as Moon Knight staggers on his feet, ready to catch him should he fall. He’s not hoisting the guy around more than he has to --- Bucky is rather exhausted himself. ‘ Magic healing powers ? ’ he hazards a guess, figuring that was the only way Moon Knight was going to be okay after a knock-out like that. He’s had his suspicions for a while, though there was remarkably little intel on the guy that Bucky could get his hands on. What ??? He was a friend now. It didn’t hurt to know who he was sharing a curb with.
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bouqueue:
lostsouldier ; james:
His time in Tokyo has taken him to his roots — attempting his hand at espionage rather than the direct fires ( and misfires ) he’s fallen back on in recent times. He’s always had a knack for discretion, but he much prefers blowing things up, and with age and experience he’s grown tired of waiting for things to fall into place. Much of what he was attempting to do was of time sensitive nature, too, so sometimes setting up his rifle on a roof top and flashing his red laser point before pulling the trigger was the best way to get the job done.
Just … not when the Japanese mafia was involved.
So slow and steady it is.
He likes to think he may have found a friend in this, in his time here. He may be mistaken. There’s strong evidence to believe that Fujiko simply found tugging him along entertaining, that his reactions to her outgoing nature was funny. She was beautiful — sexy might have been the more appropriate word but Bucky wouldn’t use it, even to simply think about her, which he also attempts not to do. She’s one of the first people he flags at the function, along with his mark that he’s supposed to be stealing biometrics off of.
He completes his task about an hour into the night, then hangs around to maintain appearances. He racks up a decent amount of interest. He’s got the face and smile for it. It’s temperament that he’s lacking, though that’s simple enough to fake. He can’t leave, however, without checking in on his silver clad friend. Whenever he looks over, she seems to be occupied, though feels like he just misses her gaze when he turns his away. Until finally, there’s an opening for him.
She’s far too close, far too quickly, but then — he’d known she would do that, hadn’t he ? And he hadn’t stopped.
‘ Mostly one, and a little of the other. ’ Because he doesn’t enjoy standing around like a brick, and instinct is a hell of a thing, his hand sheathed in thin, soft leather comes to the small of her back. ‘ I like your dress. ’
She doesn’t know James, not in the way she knows others around her. But he has a sort of old American World Charm to him that reminds her of black and white films. Respectable and Honorable. With big brown eyes, and a smile that was not easy gotten, but something still worth the work to own - and she does want to own him, at least for a little while. Pretty things like him always looking somehow better in trapped in her web and games. Like pearls on a string, or diamonds cut and placed in the right home, he would be a shiny new thing for her line up.
All that remained was the most important bit: the manner of how to trap him. And that was something Fujiko was still working on.
“Pleasure, then.” She takes his too-honest answer with grace, and slides both her hands up to adjust his collar. Something about her growing heated not by the compliment, but the touch of leather against bare skin. Long lashes fluttering as she laughs something charming. “Thank you. You should see what’s under it, if this is something you like.”
She certainly is fun in the midst of monotonous and law-abiding work . . . despite how he borders on being uncomfortable almost every time that he’s around her. If that were truly the case, why had he approached her tonight ? For once . . . it was him who had made the first move. And he hadn’t even caught himself doing it.
He wonders how much of her is a performance. For him. For those who might be watching and listening in. For herself. Her laugh is as elegant as the rest of her and he wonders when the last was that she’d laughed for real --- throwing her head back and clutching her sides and gasping for air until her cheeks hurt. He can’t actually imagine her in such an undone state . . . which is a pity. She likes her pearls and diamonds, he likes the smell of books, the licking flames of fire, and picking at scab wounds.
‘ I just came to say hello, ’ he says, thumb tracking a half inch length up and down the line of her spine, the rest of his hand remaining still and splayed. He knows, of course, what is under her dress. The image won’t leave him alone. There is still plenty he hasn’t seen, as well, and his traitorous gaze slips down between their bodies, his height giving him a rather good angle to catch her cleavage. Just as quickly, his eyes dart back up. ‘ Was it, uh, a gift from your husband ? ’ He isn’t normally in the business of seeking out other people’s wives, but Fujiko’s situation, as she had explained it to him, has made him curious.
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bouqueue :
@lostsouldier ; james:
🧜🏻♂️ a tattoo parlor daviD
nightlife symbol starter ; for the addict
Another day, another coverup. This time, a blob of black ink growing over an intricate tattoo on his lower thigh. Covering a series of tattoos that were both religious and not, things intertwined with the gang life he was still working his way past. Fi’s connection to him still strong, but the rest of it a thing he preferred to look at in the rear view mirror.
It’s a painful process, and long, but it’s worth it. And with his head tilted back in the chair, and his eyes closed, the buzzing eventually becomes almost hypnotic. Putting him in a faraway place, were the murmurings of other artists and clients were inaudible. Voices from a far off distance away that he could ignore if he disassociated just right.
The dinging of the shop bell, however, is one noise he just can’t ignore. Rightfully earned paranoia causing him to open his eyes and then just - squint and then sigh. “James.” And surprisingly, he doesn’t sound nearly as bothered as he probably should be, considering his pantlessness And the fact that this was really not the kind of place he pictured him in. Looking all out of sorts in a grungy place like David’s once frequent haunt. Leather jacket helping but everything else about him just… not. “Y’gunna keep fuckin’ starin’ or grab a fuckin’ seat?”
Bucky has had an eventful day, travelling an hour out of town on his bike that now works wonderfully thanks to the excessive works he’s made David do on it. What he was doing out of town was nobody else’s business --- it may or may not have involved a dead drop --- but he had managed to find a place on the way back that sold bubble tea and is currently sporting a lime green drink with dark purple pearls.
‘ Hi. ’ He nods pleasantly at one of the artists manning the front counter, then spots David splayed out on one of the back chairs, more skin exposed on him that Bucky’s caught sight of practically living with the guy. He takes a healthy gulp of his tea, swallowing a few pearls and then his legs start walking him over. The artist currently working on David offers him a spare seat in the form of a wheely stool, and Bucky happily perches himself down on it. ‘ Drink ? ’ he says, holding out his cup, straw pointed at David’s mouth, aim immaculate considering his gaze was fixed on David’s thigh and the scrap of towel keeping him decent.
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parvamundi : b ,
“what’s hurting you?” | ( @lostsouldier )
A question, or really several, are ready on her lips, each a bit of a sassy retort and deflection from his inquiry.
What makes you think there’s something hurting me?
Projecting much?
What’s it matter anyway?
But Bullet already knows the answers and knows that throwing these at James will not do what she would hope they would. She also recognizes that not so long ago, he had opened up to her, shown her things he had long refused to put on display, and she had agreed to do the same. Those pesky and harsh knee-jerk phrases are simply left over from her previous defense mechanisms in face of him being so closed off to her. He isn’t now and she shouldn’t be either.
The redhead draws in a long, loud breath and pushes it out as her eyes meet his.
“Dunno if it’s hurtin’ as much as it’s just… dread. I’m dreadin’ it.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and reaches for the wine glass she had put aside only a minute or so before, needing that little comfort before continuing. “My father’s gettin’ outta prison. Oh, uh, surprise, my father is— well, both of my parents are felons.” An awkward laugh and another heft sip of the white wine that had long lost its chill. “He’s comin’ here, against his better judgement, because he needs me. Well, needs to use me, and I…” Brows furrow and her gaze drops to the glass. “He’s my dad and no matter how much I cannot stand him and how much I don’t wanna help, as much as he doesn’t deserve it, especially from me, I know… I know I’m gonna do it.” It’s the first time she’s admitted that aloud. “I’m a fuckin’ pushover for that sonuva bitch.”
( MEMES? MEMES. | always accepting! )
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t run a background check on her. It had been his paranoia at first, his disinclination to believe anything good could come his way. And then a deeper one once she’d revealed more about herself --- an effort to keep her safe. The fact that her parents were registered criminals had come up in his search . . . but that, and the rest of the search hadn’t revealed anything that required him to bring it up to her. And he likely would never bring it up --- especially when he preferred Bullet tell him on her own terms. He’s also not sure how well she’d take it. In his defence, he’s been in the business too long not to background check who he’s getting into bed with ( literally. )
‘ It’s different when it’s family. ’ The only reason he knows is because he knows how families and loved ones could be used against you. He’s someone ashamed to admit that he’s played the family card against people he’s needed to take down before. He’s also seen people head down irreversible paths because of what was at stake, because of who had asked them. He doesn’t want to see Bullet can stuck in that loop.
He reaches across the counter, palm laid up. ‘ What do you need ? Seems like this problem would go away if he spends a couple more years behind bars . . . ’ He’s been trying to stick to the code, but the luxury of not being a full time Avenger, or a full time anything really, means he can dip back into the shadows when required. He does good work there, too, though not everyone sees it that way. Maybe he shouldn’t get to decide who dies, who suffers a grievous life altering injury, who stays locked up for an extra few years . . . but that all depended on who was holding the scales and he’s willing to create a bit of imbalance in his if it brings Bullet a bit of peace of mind.
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shieldretired :
STEVE FEELS HIS FACE TURN RED AT BUCKY’S WHISTLE. This is not the first time his friend sees him naked (it’s impossible to prevent when you live in a tiny shoebox together), but now Steve’s body looks very different (well… the serum didn’t make everything bigger, sadly), and Bucky shamelessly ogles him like a piece of meat. “I got some cigarettes in my duffel over there,” he says, nodding to where his things sat in a corner. “Also a pack of gum, so you can find a nurse to kiss afterward without her turning her nose up at your terrible breath.” He hesitates briefly, then drops his hands. Bucky is here to stay for another minute or five, and Steve doesn’t want to put the dirty clothes back on, nor does he want to don his clean uniform without washing up first. He turns to the bowl for a bit more privacy and wets the washcloth again.
"I think this is still a leftover from my time as a dancing monkey for Senator Brandt,“ he explains. "Can’t have the USO idiot bunk together with the real soldiers, after all.” He sounds a little bitter. “I hope that’s over now. They saw what I’m capable of. I can help. Save lives. That’s more important than selling war bonds.” Steve watches Bucky out of the corner of his eye, subtly checking him for obvious injuries, a funny movement that suggests he’s hurting somewhere, so he can drag his friend back to the doctors and demand they do a proper check-up. He pulled him off a table babbling deliriously and with feverish eyes. There’s no way he’s all healthy and okay now. “You can bunk with me if ya want to. If you, uh, don’t get problems with your CO for it, of course.”
He smirks to himself over Steve’s decision to stop covering up, not that that tiny washcloth was helping much at all. They hadn’t had much privacy sharing a tiny apartment together, and Steve would soon learn once he started bunking, sleeping, and showering with the rest of the men in camps away from base that privacy was the stuff of lands far far away.
Bucky lurches into motion once directions are given to the cigarettes, digging them out of Steve’s bag and pocketing the pack of gum for later. ‘ Funny. No one’s ever complained about my breath before. ’ He pats around himself for his Zippo, finds it in a pocket and quickly lights up. He’d stopped smoking for a while back in Brooklyn, after moving in with Steve. The habit had come back in full force by the time his boots hit European soil. Now he’s craving for anything familiar, wants to flood his body with it in an effort to flush out anything and everything that had been put into it by Zola. What the hell does he know about the way drugs work ?
‘ I’d hang onto the luxury as long as I can if I were you, ’ he mumbles around the end of his cigarette, getting comfortable perched at the end of Steve’s cot, arm crossed loosely over his chest. There’s no obvious injuries to be found. Cuts and bruises from the actual capture had healed while he was on the exam table. Maybe it was how long he’d been on there fore. Maybe something else. There’d been one moment of waking consciousness where he’d noticed the dozens of needle marks on his arms, but there was nothing but smooth if a little dirty skin left now to tell the story. He’s fine.
‘ Probably get more flack from the guys than him, ’ he admits, taking a heavy drag. ‘ But you outrank him so what the hell ? ’ He grins brightly at that, muscles pulling tight and feeling all kinds of wrong to make it happen, but make it happen he does. He’ll take the teacher’s pet jokes, the Caps’ girlfriend jokes, the Mr America jokes for a clean place to sleep. He’s not that prideful.
He tilts his head, eyes following the drag of the washcloth down Steve’s arm. It’s unbelievable. He’d been able to circle his hand around that forearm, almost, before. Now they were double the size, biceps the size of his own head if he wasn’t mistaken. Why did he feel like he was mourning someone who was standing right in front of him ? ‘ So, you’re sticking around then ? ’ he says, as casually as he can.
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@anarchyassembly : She’s staring. She doesn’t mean it, but she’s staring. Eyes big and round and impossibly green. He’s just - very big and she’s so very, very curious about what he’s doing in the library. Lookin’ all sorts out of place. “Are you - sorry, do you need help?”
He turns around at the sound of her voice, unstartled thanks to a developed sixth sense that had alerted him to her staring at the back of his head for the past however long. He gets it. He’s not exactly dressed for the library . . . but if he didn’t have the large leather jacket on, he’d be flashing his shiny metal arm and that would sure draw more attention. If it helps any, he’s not that big beneath the jacket.
Does he need help. What a broad question. In general ? Yes. Probably. In a library ? He’s okay, but maybe if he says something she’ll stop looking at him like he was about to sprout two heads. ‘ Um, sure. I’m looking for --- Would you have any recommendations for someone who’s just finished all of Philip K. Dick’s works ? ’
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“ yeah, so ? you had feelings for me first ! ”
' Ooooooooh, big flex. '
#lmao#can't believe he's the more adjusted one in this relationship#knowseverythingaboutyou#❪ ⠀ * ⠀ bucky ⠀﹕ ⠀ic. ⠀ ❫
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[ FIFTY ] : “ i think you think about me sometimes. ”
' You think that ? Why do you think that ? '
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[ NINETEEN ] : “ does me dating him bother you ? ”
' Dating who ? I hadn't noticed. '
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* [ DIALOGUE PROMPTS ] : feelings are complicated.
below, i’ve compiled a list of [ 50 ] dialogue prompts for your writing and roleplaying needs, all about denying those feelings. inspired by songs, tv series/film, and my daily daydreaming. some of these work as an almost accidental declaration of love, coming to terms with your emotions, or digging yourself deeper into that denial. there are prompts for your ship or a third-party looking in on their mess.
[ ONE ] : “ have you heard about how i’m supposedly in love with you ? ”
[ TWO ] : “ i never said i was in love with you. ”
[ THREE ] : “ i hate you. ”
[ FOUR ] : “ if somebody i was still in love with was getting serious with somebody else i’d be pretty upset too. ”
[ FIVE ] : “ please, i would rather swallow shards of glass than ever date you. ”
[ SIX ] : “ being physically attracted to you doesn’t mean i’m in love with you. ”
[ SEVEN ] : “ being in love with you doesn’t mean i want to be with you. ”
[ EIGHT ] : “ nothing is ever going to happen between us. ”
[ NINE ] : “ i don’t feel that way about you anymore. ”
[ TEN ] : “ you’re over me ? when.. when were you under me ? ”
[ ELEVEN ] : “ deny it all you want but i know you love me. ”
[ TWELVE ] : “ it doesn’t have to mean anything. ”
[ THIRTEEN ] : “ so denial isn’t just a river in egypt. ”
[ FOURTEEN ] : “ how do you really feel ? ”
[ FIFTEEN ] : “ just be honest for once in your life. ”
[ SIXTEEN ] : “ admitting your feelings isn’t going to kill you. ”
[ SEVENTEEN ] : “ you’re so in denial, even you don’t know how you really feel. ”
[ EIGHTEEN ] : “ i don’t believe you. ”
[ NINETEEN ] : “ does me dating them bother you ? ”
[ TWENTY ] : “ there’s nothing else to talk about. ”
[ TWENY-ONE ] : “ we could y’know… it doesn’t have to change anything. ”
[ TWENTY-TWO ] : “ ‘no homo’ is really starting to sound like homo, bro. ”
[ TWENTY-THREE ] : “ everyone else can see it but you. ”
[ TWENTY-FOUR ] : “ i might be in love with you. ”
[ TWENTY-FIVE ] : “ i only said all those things because i felt sorry for you. ”
[ TWENTY-SIX ] : “ do you really hate me that much ? ”
[ TWENY-SEVEN ] : “ you’ve been avoiding me and i don’t know why. ”
[ TWENTY-EIGHT ] : “ oh, i know you don’t like me. it’s because i know you love me. ”
[ TWENTY-NINE ] : “ i thought you knew ! ”
[ THIRTY ] : “ you can’t act this way every time i fuck somebody that isn’t you ! ”
[ THIRTY-ONE ] : “ does everybody know that i’m in love with them except for me ? ”
[ THIRTY-TWO ] : “ i don’t want anybody else touching you like i do. ”
[ THIRTY-THREE ] : “ clearly i still have feelings for them but feelings don’t have to mean love. ”
[ THIRTY-FOUR ] : “ yeah, so ? you had feelings for me first ! ”
[ THIRTY-FIVE ] : “ we could kiss ? nobody needs to know. ”
[ THIRTY-SIX ] : “ even if i did have feelings for you, what would it matter? you don’t feel the same way about me. ”
[ THIRTY-SEVEN ] : “ does this mean something ? ”
[ THIRTY-EIGHT ] : “ this can mean something… if you want it to ? ”
[ THIRTY-NINE ] : “ i wish i never met you. ”
[ FORTY ] : “ you can’t be angry with them for moving on. ”
[ FORTY-ONE ] : “ i don’t trust that you won’t break my heart. ”
[ FORTY-TWO ] : “ you don’t get to pick and choose who i date unless you want to volunteer yourself ! ”
[ FORTY-THREE ] : “ we shouldn’t do that again. ”
[ FORTY-FOUR ] : “ i don’t know what about this scares you so much. ”
[ FORTY-FIVE ] : “ you never know what might happen if you put yourself out there. ”
[ FORTY-SIX ] : “ i never said i hated you. ”
[ FORTY-SEVEN ] : “ don’t you find it suspicious that you can’t talk about how you really feel about me/them? ”
[ FORTY-EIGHT ] : “ i should have never kissed you. ”
[ FORTY-NINE ] : “ I don’t want to be your friend. ”
[ FIFTY ] : “ i think you think about me sometimes. ”
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bucky does not have a perfect serum. zola got a lot closer than uhh bruce banner but he was no erskine. it’s funny that bucky asks steve “you don’t have one of those do you” in reference to the red skull’s skull because if anyone was going to end up looking like that it was bucky.
after he was recaptured, the experimentation continued. it was only in the later decades when hydra saw what a useful weapon he was that the outlandish experimentation stopped in case it backfired and killed their weapon, but the effort to enhance him continued with a larger focus on maintaining the enhancements already implemented.
bucky doesn’t fully understand how his body works even now. his metabolism is out of whack. his healing is unpredictable. the interaction of the metal arm with the rest of his body is better now that it’s wakandan tech and it was explained to him but prior to that, especially when he was on the run, it felt like a foreign attachment that he had to trust wouldn’t kill him in his sleep. add very real brain damage and ptsd to the mix, the combination of which create hallucinations, paranoia, blackouts and flashbacks, he is very reliant on his subconscious to help him survive.
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their mother would sit and comb through rebecca’s hair and put it into two neat braids for sleep when she younger and try to get james to sit with them while they did it, but he always had too much energy around that time of night for that. after winnifred passed, he found rebecca ( aged 5 at the time ) trying to do it herself and took over for her, eventually learning how to do it pretty well himself.
rebecca has curls in her hair, ringlets when her hair is short, more curly/wavy when it’s longer. she has the same kind of hair that her mother used to have and i can imagine james getting very nostalgic over seeing the ringlets when she wears her hair shorter
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@bokketo : ‘ i swear to god , i’m gonna change the world . ’ // tony
Bucky believes it instantly. Not because he’s talking to a Stark, but because he’s talking to Tony. Plenty of people had a lot to say about the guy. Some to do with the fact that he walks in the precedent of his father. Some to the do with the name he was making for himself, all on his own. The people loved a bit of famous, rich people drama.
Bucky has to admit --- before they’d met at college, he’d been some what of a geek over Howard Stark. He isn’t ashamed to admit that he hasn’t missed a single Stark Expo since he’d started going as a kid. He’d admired from afar, trying not to let the rumours of what else Howard Stark was involved in take from his --- for want of a better word --- hero worship, though growing up and seeing more of the world has definitely pulled back the wool over his eyes. It’s why, perhaps, upon finding out that Tony was a Stark, he hadn’t been very impressed. All it took was one class together, however, and in the process of attempting to irritate the living hell out of Tony --- which had backfired spectacularly on Bucky --- he’d actually gotten to know the guy.
Which is why Bucky is now lying on Tony’s floor, feet propped up on the bed because he’d read somewhere that that would increase blood flow to the brain and therefore help him think more, which he needs, in order to memorise his cheat sheet of formulas before tomorrow’s quiz. It’s just making him dizzy at this point. He twists up, giving up for the moment, and to address Tony’s current personal turmoil. Where was Rhodey when you needed him.
‘ Hell yeah, you are, ’ Bucky, the ever supportive friend says. He hadn’t caught all of the phone conversation because Tony had only walked back in on the tail end of it, but Bucky can now recognise a phone call with Howard Stark when he sees one. Bucky doesn’t even need to know what had been said. ‘ Don’t let him get to you. You do you. You’re on track for big things, Tony. Huge things. Things the rest of us can’t even dream about. Don’t let anyone get in the way of that. ’
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