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audreycritter · 5 years

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day six: dragged away dick grayson & bruce wayne general canon, Pre-N52 tw: drugging, blood, vomit

***

The moon cast pale gray light on the building spires and then the city was plunged into darkness by swiftly moving cloud cover. Nightwing glanced up, looking for a break in the inky sky, and saw miles of storm system spread out over the bay and moving in.

He’d been hoping the forecast would be off by a few hours, at least. No such luck.

At least Robin wasn’t out with him tonight. Damian still had a penchant for leaning into things that made him uncomfortable— habit or defense mechanism or both. If he was freezing in the rain, he’d insist on stay out longer than a normal patrol, just to prove that he could. Dick had spent more than one night as Batman surreptitiously finding ways to warm Damian up after a cold night, while the kid pretended he wasn’t visibly shivering.

Nightwing had been watching Gotham for five days now, and Damian had been out for three of those. Tonight, he’d insisted Damian stay in, and had left the cave to angry stomping going up the stairs into the house. He’d cool down, Dick knew, and probably crash and sleep within thirty minutes of furiously flinging himself into bed to sulk.

Five days of Bruce being undercover with hardly a word, and Damian was wired, on edge, and exhausted. Nightwing had that deep current of worry he always did when Bruce was out of contact, but that was undercover work, and he was used to it.

Overhead, the sky rumbled ominously. Nightwing leapt from the edge of the First National building and let the free fall carry him down ten stories before throwing a grapple line and curving into the arc of its catch. He landed in a roll and the second he was back on his feet, his comm beeped. He froze. That pattern, that tone— that was the emergency beacon signal.

“O,” he said, into the comm.

“Osborne and St. Mark,” she said, immediately. “It’s not Robin. A’s confirming now that he’s at home. It’s a warehouse, one of Roman Sionis’ frozen assets in federal holding. Should be empty.”

“I’ll be there in seven,” he said. “Cycle’s two blocks from me. Any visual?”

“I’ve got a camera a block down St. Mark’s that shows an empty lot. No in-building security online to use. Deploying a recon drone.” Oracle sounded purely businesslike, not a hint of stress present in her voice. Nightwing knew that meant she was masking, work-focused, and frustrated without enough information.

Nightwing made it to his parked and cloaked cycle in record time and ate up asphalt speeding through the streets as it started to rain.

“Heat scan shows three bodies inside,” Oracle said when he was close. “Hand to hand, one against two. One of the two down.”

Nightwing gunned the engine. He could see the warehouse now.

“Second is down,” Oracle said. “One man standing. Bottom floor.”

“I’m here,” Nightwing said.

The cycle skidded and squealed to a stop and Nightwing leapt from it and took the first double doors with a kick. He had a suspicion— a hope— who the one man left on his feet was, and there wasn’t much reach to proceed with caution or strategy at that point.

“You’ve got a car enroute,” Oracle said. “I’ve got A on standby for emergency response prep orders.”

The emergency beacon probably meant blood, and lots of it.

Nightwing went through the dark building at a dead sprint, frantically scanning for any sign of Bruce. The interior was lit with warming fluorescent lights, the faint hum above head a clue that they’d been turned on very recently. He rounded the abandoned machinery just in time to see a hunched figure stumble backward and fall.

“B!” Nightwing flew across the room on a burst of extra speed and slid to a stop on his knees in front of the sitting figure.

The ragged coat, the moth-eaten wool hat, the graying new beard, the colored contacts— all would have been remarkably effective disguises if he hadn’t already known who he was going to find. Bruce swayed, even sitting. There was blood trickling from his lip, and his pupils were blown.

Nightwing glanced up and down, hunting for seeping bloodstains. “B. What happened?”

“Drug,” Bruce slurred. “Organ...chop shop.”

The two men on the floor didn’t stir and Nightwing wished they would so he could kick them both in the teeth, and watch their faces while he did it. He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder to steady him.

“Can you stand? O’s sending a car. We gotta get you back to the Manor.”

“No,” Bruce said, trying to shake his hand off. “No, not...Robin…”

“Robin’s fine, B,” Nightwing said, frowning.

Bruce twisted clumsily and vomited on the floor. It splattered one of the unconscious men. “No,” he said again, staring at the mess.

“He probably deserved that,” Nightwing said.

“DN...din...A,” Bruce mumbled, tugging uselessly at the man’s zippered jacket. His fingers struggled to grasp the zipper pull while he leaned and Nightwing braced him and sat him back upright, tugging him a foot across the floor.

“Oof. You’re as heavy as a freighter, B. Nobody’s gonna run DNA here. Don’t move.” Nightwing patted the unconscious man’s face to check for response and whistled when there wasn’t even a groan. “Holy right hook, Batman. You knocked him out colder than Mr. Freeze. Listen, A’s going to be ready for us. Robin will be fine.”

“Drugs,” Bruce protested, sounding far more upset than he should have been. He didn’t usually let much seep into his tone, ever, so this was downright unsettling. “He’s...will...drugs scare ‘im.”

Nightwing went as still as a startled animal, and then slowly, he turned back to Bruce and crouched in front of him.

“B,” he said, softly. “Just what’d they give you, anyway? This Robin isn’t going to be upset like that.”

“No,” Bruce insisted, his head bobbing forward like he was having trouble controlling it. “No. Jay can’t...he’s...he’ll see...”

The comm beeped softly in his ear when he activated an open channel. “O, is the penthouse clear tonight? The big guy’s gonna need to sleep something off.”

“No janitorial scheduled. Back elevator’s still programmed with your access code.” There was a significant, but brief, pause. “He’s okay? A’s waiting.”

“The only blood out here isn’t his. He was drugged but he’s conscious. I will take that car, though. I don’t think he could stay on a cycle right now. Tell A I’ve got him and to keep Robin at home.”

“I’ll send Black Bat,” Oracle said. “Keep me updated.”

Nightwing glanced at the men and sighed. “Hold on, B.” He pulled ties out of his cuff pockets and rolled them both, tying their hands behind them. He’d call it in, or have Oracle do it, when they were far enough away, but at least they wouldn’t get too far or choke on their own puke if the police were slow.

“Is not...” Bruce said, his brow knitted in confusion. He blinked slowly and tried to focus on Nightwing. “Is not Jay anymore.”

“No, B,” Nightwing said quietly. “It’s not. Do you know what they gave you?”

“Somethin’...fuckin’..._strong_,” Bruce spat out, sounding profoundly annoyed. Nightwing grabbed his arm and counterpressured with the heels of his boots when he stood, and fortunately, Bruce cooperated. He leaned heavily on Nightwing as they walked, but he was managing his own feet well enough.

“Organ chop shop, huh,” Nightwing commented. “How long have you known? I’m guessing it wasn’t long before they drugged you, or they never would have gotten that close.”

“Drug me,” Bruce repeated, and his arm slung around Nightwing’s shoulders tightened.

“So you said,” Nightwing answered. “Here’s the car. Come on, in you go, and if you try to take the wheel from me or open the door while we’re driving, I’m going to knock you out for your own good.”

“Brat,” Bruce said. As soon as Nightwing closed the car door, he was tearing out the colored contacts and dropping them on the floor.

The ride to the penthouse was mostly silence that Nightwing filled with chatter. Bruce didn’t normally contribute much in the way of actual words, but the drugs disrupted his ability to grunt or move at the right times, so Nightwing felt a bit like he was talking to an actual brick wall. It made Dick uneasy, even knowing it was drugs, to feel like Bruce was beside him and very, very far away.

It took some maneuvering to get Bruce onto the elevator but they made it into the penthouse without incident. As soon as they were there, inside, with the door locked, Nightwing peeled off his mask and Bruce shrugged awkwardly out of the beaten coat and hat. He dropped them on the floor and stumbled into the living room, and past the couch.

“Wait, wait up,” Dick called, hopping on one foot and then the other as he tugged off the suit boots. He left them on the floor and followed Bruce as he bumped into one item after another like some sort of human pinball, until he swerved hard left and into the bathroom.

Bruce hugged the toilet and puked more, while Nightwing stood beside him, feeling helpless, while wrestling the suit off of himself. He waited, hovering nearby, trying to decide what to do. Bruce’s shoulders stopped heaving and he leaned there, forehead on forearm, trembling faintly.

“Uh, I’m gonna, I’m gonna grab some water and some clothes for both of us,” Dick said. “I’ll be right back.”

It only took him under a minute but he still expected to see Bruce on the couch or climbing into a bed after. It was a surprise to find him still in the bathroom, shaking. Dick crouched down beside him, a worn t-shirt on, and offered the glass of water.

“Shit,” Bruce said, a word that was more low groan than speech.

“You were not kidding when you said they gave you something strong,” Dick said, putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder after the glass was transferred.

Bruce gulped half of the water, set the glass down, and exhaled roughly. He staggered to his feet again. He braced himself on the wall and a desperate little gasp escaped him.

“B,” Dick said, unable to keep the alarm out of his voice. “Are you crying? Bruce. What did they do, exactly?”

“No,” Bruce said, stumbling past him. He went for the nearest bedroom and all but collapsed face down on the bed, turning his head just enough to get the pillow off his mouth and nose. There were tear streaks on his face and Dick climbed onto the bed next to him, his face pinched in worry.

“B. It’s me. You gotta tell me what’s going on. Is this just the drugs?”

“No,” Bruce said again, and a sob tore from his chest. It was the only one— he sucked in a lungful of air and sniffled, and rubbed at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “S’not...something else.”

Dick elbowed him in the side, gently, and scooted closer. “Yeah? It is something else or it’s not?”

“Tired,” Bruce said, closing his eyes. He threw an arm around Dick and dragged him that much closer, trapping Dick in a warm cuddle. He buried his face in Dick’s hair and Dick relaxed incrementally, as the arm around him did.

“You big oaf,” Dick muttered fondly. “You could have just called and said you wanted to see me. You didn’t have to go get yourself kidnapped for your kidneys.”

Bruce snorted a laugh that ghosted across Dick’s scalp.

“Feeling more you yet? I should get you some more water,” Dick said, without struggling to get away. Bruce didn’t let him go.

“After sleep,” Bruce said, firmly. “Wanna. Sleep. S’been cold.”

“I bet you just loved that,” Dick said. “Undercover means no blankets and fancy mattress. Why don’t you ever do white collar stuff? Seems like that’d be a more comfy gig.”

“Batman...doesn’t…he doesn’t...I don’t..._need_ comfy,” Bruce managed, with several stops and starts. “M’fine.”

More of the tension slipped out of Dick’s muscles and he laughed, and laughed, until his eyes filled with tears. He pressed his face into Bruce’s shoulder and laughed harder at the grumpy little snort of indignation.

“Chum,” Bruce said, and that was enough for Dick to know. He started telling him about a case he’d worked the week before, involving smuggling swans, and one of them attacking him in the suit.

The non-verbal or quiet responses grew more Bruce-like and less slurred as Dick talked, until they were mostly normal. Dick felt the yawn Bruce tried to stifle and then the tell-tale deep breathing of Bruce truly out, the way he slept if he had been sedated.

Dick wriggled enough to fish the comm out of his pocket, where he’d left it.

“O,” he said. “He’s fine.”

“You done for the night?” Oracle asked.

Dick scrunched closer into Bruce’s furnace-like warmth and smiled at the pleased hum.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m staying in.”

#nightwing #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #whumptober #dragged away

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kingsofchaos · 6 years

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Ryan, Jeremy and Gavin went into a cave, out of options and desperately seeking shelter, praying that they wouldn't find themselves cornered, trapped without exit. They've never been this far into the mountains before, never pursued quite this doggedly, and while happy that their distraction has allowed the rest of the crew to slip back to safety, the sheer number of those on their tail means they cannot hope to stand and fight, so they run. Everyone in the crew is reasonably fit, used to lugging around heavy weaponry and stolen goods, used to running fast and hard under fire, but endurance running through the wilderness at dusk, dodging trees and rocks and crumbling earth in full heist getup is nothing like dashing through city streets and it's wearing them down fast. There's no denying that the three are slowing, that the shouts of their enemies are growing ever closer, so stumbling across the cave entrance, almost entirely hidden by jutting rocks and vegetation, feels like a blessing. Like divine intervention. They walk for what feels like an eternity, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the entrance as possible, huddled close to keep together, hands trailing cool damp walls as they shuffle down miles and miles into stubborn darkness without ever hitting a back wall. It doesn't occur to any of them to stop, nobody suggests that they have gone far enough, that they would hear anyone coming long before they arrived. Their chatter drifts to a halt and they walk in near silence, hearts still hammering, with fear and exhaustion, yes, but also with something oddly like anticipation. Nobody acknowledges the strange humming they can hear, the way it started when their comms crackled and fell out of range, the way it seems to be coming from the mountain itself. The way it's getting louder. There's no way Jeremy, Gavin or Ryan could know that there was one final transmission over the lines before communications cut out, one last terrifying thing their desperately listening crewmates heard before a burst of static and endless silence. An oddly melodic humming, the crooning of something without a voice, whispers in a language nobody knows yet all understood: We're here. Come. We're here. Eventually, after hours or years or lifetimes, the trio arrive where they were going, where they were pulled, where they've been summoned to. A cavern awash in green light, not the soft glow of natural bioluminescence, not algae or moss, but three points of beaming illumination, bright as spotlights, and like moths to a flame they can do nothing but approach. They do not speak, each instinctively drawn to a different green cube, think nothing of the murky lake they must wade through, the enormous weight of the crate-sized objects. They cannot even begin to consider leaving their cubes behind - the cubes want to be taken, want to leave this dark place, they want to see the surface once more and Gavin, Ryan and Jeremy would sooner die than refuse them their wish. Feeling none of their previous exhaustion the walk back is somehow far easier than the decent, the distance which took hours seeming to pass in moments, their loads feeling lighter with every step, blinding glow dimming as they rise. They walk in silence again, but there is no fear, no confusion, nothing but wonder, nothing but pure unfiltered joy. The Fake's have always been close but what Jeremy, Ryan and Gavin feel now is more than camaraderie, more than even family - they are connected now, can see each other, recognise one another like never before. Feel powerful like never before. By the time they see soft dawn sunlight filtering through what must be the cave's entrance the cubes are easily slipped into pockets for safety, each no larger than a single die. From here it is clear that they are still hunted, that there are still men in the forrest, voices calling to one another, acrid scent of hot metal and gunpowder sullying clean mountain air. The three are utterly calm, deeply unconcerned as they share a look, eyes gleaming, almost glowing in the shadows of the cave, and as one they smile; they were hungry anyway. Ryan, Jeremy and Gavin went into a cave and they didn't come out the same.

#FAHC #yes i did run away with a throwaway conversation from human fall flat #how could i be expected to ignore #'we are the god trio'#Come on now #Loaded Guns and Sharp Teeth #None Shall Love The Butcher #Look Ma I'm On TV!#Golden Guns and Glitter Bombs #Causing Problems Makes You Famous #It Hurts To Become

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scaledback-blog · 4 years

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Well I had a creative spurt this morning and i whipped out my journal and starting writing. I typed it up and added a personal note. This reads like stream of conscious for those who be going what in the heck is this chick saying. The audience is for women but hey if it works for you great. Let me know how it made you feel.

Water marks made by bubbling springs. Discarded belts and shoehorns accumulate dust in a beat up leather trunk. Hidden in the seams of the trunk trace amounts of sand and grit kissed by the tropics. Beside the trunk lays a tarnished pewter powder box with a sticky hinge. Beautiful mosaics lovingly crafted by hands longs since gone still cover the surface, some chipped some missing. Scraps of stockings once sensuous now littered with moth holes tell no stories of illicit affairs.

A star flares. Sun flashes on the brightly covered hem of bell bottom pants. Hot summer day mixed with music amidst the turbulent 60’s as a lithe young woman dancing and spinning in a park.

The old manor house with aged darkened wood stands silent except for the soft padding of a cat wondering the halls to find its favorite sun soaked spot on the shiny waxed floor under the heavy leaded window. Sunlight casting a small rainbow that tease the shadows in the heavy folds of damask curtains.

Outside the crunch of footsteps on crushed limestone is this me from a prior life. I feel like it must be a tall teen with strawberry blond hair walks to the edge of a tended wishing well. Her locket opens and small bits of paper flutter down onto the water’s surface. Will her name be Claire or Jody?

Saying goodbye to that ivy covered house certain that the future will be good. Gooseflesh excitement spreading as the door to the motor home closes and tires begin to crunch the limestone for the last time.

A Muslim woman sits quietly listening to the village storyteller her hands nimble and practiced as she embroiders colorful threads among the bead work. Joy and contentment is a warm shawl around her as she stitches her love into a beautiful garment for her daughter. Her daughter will walk in love as she leaves her family and joins hands with the young man who makes her heart sing.

Coconut scents the air as the woman knocks the husks off. Her eyes travel down the beach to son’s playing at the water’s edge. Occasional shouts of mischief blending with the conversation of the men casting nets into the warm tropical water. No need to expend unnecessary thoughts. Here in this time is good.

A feeling of deep calling draws me to the faces of teachers past and present. There is the experiences of deep in the bones satisfaction. Those moments in a child’s life when the spark lights and a new idea or understanding erupts. This is yet another example of love and contentment.

A Female Astronaut hears the chatter of comm’s in her ears and the sound of her own breathing. Looking down into the swirling clouds and blue waters of Earth she is physically tethered by a mechanical arm but her heart feels like it has expanded past her suit and cannot be contained. She feels the love of those who have sacrificed with her so she could have this moment.

An ancient woman places her eye glasses on the table beside her. She glows with the combined experiences of her life. The sorrows no longer have sharp edges. The petty revenges have no importance. She thinks about her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren as she sinks into her bed covers. Lying there listening to softly muffled conversation downstairs she feels a warm presence and the smell of a familiar aftershave seeps into her nostrils. He calls her, one more adventure sweetheart and then a multitude after that. Let’s search them out together.

Old leather trunks filled with scraps and memories, shiny marbles, ragged novels, old coins and broken toys imbued with love, joy and color. All ready to be discovered by a curious young girl. The circle expands ever outward.

Dear Reader,

My vision for you is to find contentment by quieting your mind. Feel yourself becoming one not separate. Let go of self-imposed barriers. Breathe in and know you are breathing in a lifetime of experiences. The love you feel in the moment is a reincarnation of a world of women through time and their experiences. Find joy in tears and remember tomorrow starts with new breathe and new opportunity. Let it infuse you.

With love,

Julie

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buckybarnesappreciationsociety · 7 years

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Hold On Sweetheart Daddy’s On The Way

Summary: The last thing you’d want to do is take something from James Buchanan Barnes...especially his daughter! Isabella Marie Barnes is the apple of his eyes. When Rodney and Caleb kidnap her, he sprang into Soldier 2.0 mode. He’s far more dangerous than the Winter Soldier because now, he has a family!

Warnings: Sexual innuendo and anger

Word Count: 1, 048

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Izzy Barnes OFC: Rodney and Caleb Baretti, Steve, Tony, Nat, Sam

A/N: There are two parts to “Day of Reckoning.” Part 1 is from Bucky and Izzy’s POV before she’s rescued. Part 2 is the rescue itself!

Russian language from www.http://masterrussian.com keyboard translater

Thank you for taking time to read my fics. It means a lot!

Bucky’s POV

Stevie’s watching me like a hawk. Wish he wouldn’t. I ain’t the Winter Soldier..naw I’m a dad pissed and ready to get his baby girl back and kill the vermin who took her!

I know Y/N’s worried sick about Izzy and Stevie misses his sister. They don’t always get’long but hell, that’s what brothers and sisters do….rile each other up and play afterwards. Me’n Becca’d do that all the time but I loved her like nobody else.

Can’t stop m’leg from bouncing up and down, guess it’s a nervous tick or something. This is the most important mission I’ve ever been on. There is no room for error ‘cuz they’d kill my Izzy.

The quinjet reached the Catskills in stealth mode. Inside, Stevie, Tony, Nat, and Sam awaited instructions. Also, I brought along a vehicle; ransom money is in the trunk.. Too bad those cockroaches won’t live to spend a dime of it.

The car, an Audi Z class, designed by Stark has special features. The back seat lifts up and out for storing all my weapons and ammo. The comms are linked to the GPS. Even though the quinjet’s in stealth mode, this car can track it but those numbnuts can’t.

Looking down at Tony’s cell phone screen, an unknown number pops up. I know who it is. Steadying m’breathing…….

Bucky: Yeah?

Rodney: Guess you our money?

Bucky: Yeah I do.

Rodney: Good. There’s an old abandoned distillery off the main road, ‘bout 10 miles outside downtown Catskills. We’ll be waiting for ya. And if I sniff any of those ‘Avengers’, I’ll kill this bitch and mail her body parts to that whore Y/N. Got me FREAK?

*silence and heavy breathing*

Rodney: “HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU? DID YOU HEAR ME??!!”

Bucky: “I’ll be there.”

There’s a storm brewing inside my mind. M’thoughts are jumbled. All I can see is Izzy beat up with those backwoods assholes.

Sam gets on my last damn nerves but when it comes to his niece, he’ll kill first and ask questions NEVER! Redwing performed a sweep of the area and found where Izzy was being held. The thermal image determined her heart rate was elevated. Caleb taunted like he’s gonna do her more harm. Hang on Izzy. Remember what I taught’ya ‘bout your breathing when ya get angry. Slow down please.

Getting that report set me off. I paced back’n forth like a caged animal, flipping m’knife like a majorette’s baton. M’blood’s cold running through my veins. Nat wants’ta say something to me, but she ain’t that crazy!

Didn’t know when it happened, but I started speaking Russian. Tony glanced at Nat and Steve.

ПЩЕЕФ ПУЕ РУК ИФСЛЮЮЮПЩЕЕФ ПУЕ РУК ИФСЛЮ СФТЭЕ ЬУЫЫ ЕРШЫ ГЗЮ ПЩЕЕФ ПУЕ ШЯЯН ИФСЛ!!

(GOTTA GET HER BACK...GOTTA GET HER BACK. CAN’T MESS THIS UP. GOTTA GET IZZY BACK!!)

M’mind’s gone to a dark place.

I checked the car to make sure m’guns and ammo were fully stocked. I’m ready for anything.

Before getting in the car, I turned and thanked everyone for coming and helping get our Izzy back.

Tony waited till I drove off before he closed the ramp. Nat flipped the stealth mode switch and followed the tracker in the Audi.

M’thoughts are always on Izzy and how I wanted her back safe. Being a parent ain’t easy. Hell, I never thought I’d have kids, but look at me know. I’ve got a son, daughter and beautiful wife.

There’s no chatter coming through the comms. The only noises I hear are crickets chirping and the wind howling. M’knuckles are turning white ‘cuz I gotta death grip on the steering wheel. I’d rather have m’hands ‘round Rodney’s neck!!!

Feels like I been driving for days, but it ain’t that far. I’ve never wanted to kill anyone as much as Rodney and Caleb.

Izzy’s POV

My head hurts so bad. That jackass Caleb hit me really hard; my eye’s swollen and I have a busted lip. Makes it really hard to eat and drink.

At first, I was afraid to eat because it might be poisoned. But my stomach rumbled so bad, it couldn’t be helped. The smell in this place makes we wanna vomit; moth balls, cigarettes and beer. Caleb’s creepy; he watches me when I use the restroom and touches my face, telling me I’m a “pretty young thing.” Yuck!

Auntie Nat and dad’s voices are telling me to keep my breathing under control, that way I won’t have a panic attack.

These zip ties around my wrists and ankles are cutting into my skin. I’m bleeding but Rodney doesn’t care. I’m just a “get rich quick” scheme to him.

There’s so many things going around in my head. I wonder what mom and little Stevie’s doing? He must’ve been so frightened when these buttwads took me. He may get on my nerves but I love him in spite of. Kayla and Maddie? What happened to them?

Mom’s going crazy worrying about me. Oh my gosh, dad. What’s going on with him? Did my kidnapping trigger the Winter Soldier? Of course not Isabella. Auntie Wanda helped the doctors in Wakanda remove all the triggers from his mind.

What’s the team doing to rescue me? If know my extended family and I do, they’re on the way, guns blazing. As much as I’d love for these two idiots to die, seeing dad torture them brings a warm feeling to my heart.

Look at them. Stupid smirks on their ugly faces.! Yeah, shit for brains, keep it up. You’re gonna wish you’d never seen me.

TAGS: @omalleysgirl22 @bolontiku @rebelslicious @buckybabybaby @shy2shot @sgtjamesbuchananbarnes107th @supersoldierslover @this-kitty-has-claws @erisjade @irene-rogue-adler @sophs-the-name @goodnightwife @the-witching-hours12-3 @not-moose-one-shots @senselesssamii @sexylibrarian1 @unic0rns-taking-0ver-th3-w0rld @myinnerinside @writing-soldiers @thewintercaptain

#bucky barnes #izzy barnes #he is pissed #rodney and caleb dead #dead man walking #soldier 2.0 #thanks for reading #love y'all

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