![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Open/Overflow
May. 8th, 2035 09:59 am
For @discobaron
Jun. 9th, 2025 05:05 pmThere's a plain canvas tote over one shoulder, as Bucky scanned the sterile corridor of the underwater prison with a look that was half-bored, half-wary. Mostly wary.
It smelled like salt and steel. The kind of place where silence had weight, and everything echoed more than it should.
He shifted his grip on the strap of the bag.
Books. That was what he’d brought. Nothing controversial—some history, a couple of classics, one newer novel he hadn’t read but figured Zemo might like. Things to keep a man busy in a place like this.
And maybe—maybe—to keep the visit from feeling too personal.
Bucky wasn’t exactly sure why he’d agreed to come. Curiosity? Guilt? That unrelenting itch in the back of his skull that Zemo had planted with those texts—the ones that straddled the line between insight and provocation, truth and manipulation. Zemo had always known how to pick the lock on people’s heads. Bucky just wasn’t sure if his was still locked.
He exhaled slowly through his nose as the guard led him to the visiting area. His jaw tensed as the door slid open, and—
There he was. Sitting like he owned the damn place. Calm, poised, like the walls weren’t closing in on him.
Bucky stepped forward, dropped the bag of books onto the table with a soft thud, and raised an eyebrows. "Zemo."
He didn’t sit yet. He just stood there, weight shifting slightly onto his left foot. Watching. Waiting to see if this was a conversation, a trap, or something even messier.
It smelled like salt and steel. The kind of place where silence had weight, and everything echoed more than it should.
He shifted his grip on the strap of the bag.
Books. That was what he’d brought. Nothing controversial—some history, a couple of classics, one newer novel he hadn’t read but figured Zemo might like. Things to keep a man busy in a place like this.
And maybe—maybe—to keep the visit from feeling too personal.
Bucky wasn’t exactly sure why he’d agreed to come. Curiosity? Guilt? That unrelenting itch in the back of his skull that Zemo had planted with those texts—the ones that straddled the line between insight and provocation, truth and manipulation. Zemo had always known how to pick the lock on people’s heads. Bucky just wasn’t sure if his was still locked.
He exhaled slowly through his nose as the guard led him to the visiting area. His jaw tensed as the door slid open, and—
There he was. Sitting like he owned the damn place. Calm, poised, like the walls weren’t closing in on him.
Bucky stepped forward, dropped the bag of books onto the table with a soft thud, and raised an eyebrows. "Zemo."
He didn’t sit yet. He just stood there, weight shifting slightly onto his left foot. Watching. Waiting to see if this was a conversation, a trap, or something even messier.
(no subject)
Jun. 2nd, 2025 02:50 pm
Contact Info. | Permissions | HMD | Threads | Open
Under Construction!
(Image from Daily Bucky Barnes on Tumblr)
Permissions
Dec. 5th, 2023 09:29 pmOOC
↬ Back-Tagging
Absolutely!
↬ Thread-Hopping
If we've either talked about it for prose/action spam threads or it's a texting type thread, sure.
↬ Comments in the Subject Line
Sure! Doesn't bother me a bit.
↬ Fourth Wall Breakage
It's cool if they know who he is -- "James Buchanan Barnes" or "The Winter Soldier," but please don't tell him he's fictional. Dude has enough issues.
↬ Off Limits
The limit does not exist.
↬ Anything Else?
I adore platonic friendship lines, too, and would LOVE to play with "adopted sister" ideas with Wanda and/or Shuri.
IC
↬ Hugging
This mainly depends on canon point and who your character is to him. Pre-Winter Soldier Bucky is a tactile kind of guy who doesn't mind random hugs and hand holding, etc. Best off not touching if he's in Winter Soldier mode. Post-Winter Soldier is tricky in that he's alternately touch-starved and touch-averse simultaneously, but certain people can quite easily slip past his defenses, i.e. Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson.
↬ Kissing
Again, all dependent on canon point here.
↬ Flirting
Absolutely!
↬ Fighting & Injuries
Yep, I'm fine with fighting, and minor to serious injuries. Anything super major and let's discuss it! I'm probably down for it. That being said, he's a super-soldier with super strength, speed, intelligence, and enhanced senses. He won't go down easy.
↬ Killing
Not...super keen on the idea of killing him off so probably not, unless it's a temporary or fake death, maybe.
↬ Telepathy
I'm not opposed to it but he has a billion issues after having been brainwashed and manipulated for over 70 years by an evil terrorist organization, so let's talk it out and hash out the details!
↬ Magic
He's not immune, so go ahead!
↬ Triggers
I don't have any. However, just about every single trigger warning you can imagine goes along with this character. If anything specific bothers you, please feel free to message me and let me know so I can leave certain details out if needed! Bucky has a pretty terrible background of things including but not limited to: non-consensual everything, violence, murder, torture and brainwashing. He's riddled with PTSD, is prone to panic attacks and nightmares and flashbacks, and not always being fully aware of what's happened.
↬ Prose or Action Spam?
Either is fine with me! If one is easier for you, I'll match your style.
↬ Shipping
I'm apparently just straight up shipper trash these days so.
Always Yes: Steve, Sam.
Probably, especially with previous CR: Yelena. Mel. Ava. Natasha. Rumlow, Zemo. I'm trash, I'm sorry.
Others: Any underage kids. Others, ask if you're hesitant? I promise I won't bite.
Cross Canon: Probably not for shipping. General interaction is cool though!
OCs/Rule 63's: No thank you. Not my jam.
↬ Contact
Best Method: PM is fine, or feel free to find me on Plurk at xtremeroswellia
Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn
Apr. 16th, 2020 04:01 pmHe should have known something weird was going to happen considering the fact that it was a full moon. But he was trying his best to put as much weird behind him as he could, and that included any kind of supernatural or alien shenannigans. Not that he wouldn't pitch in and do his part if it came down to it, but these days, Bucky much preferred sticking closer to the old brownstone he'd taken up residence in the last few weeks, since the Snap had been reversed. That wasn't to say he stayed locked up in his new place, because he hadn't. He'd been out to see Steve and his grandkids earlier that day, in fact.
Yesterday, he'd reluctantly agreed to have lunch with Sam, whom was turning out to be a pretty good friend. It wasn't something he would have imagined a year ago. Or -- technically, five years ago.
No, Bucky was doing his best to scrape together some semblance of a life in the wake of Thanos' reign and the Snap, and Tony's death and Steve's trip to the past.
And, and, and.
It was just a lot easier said than done. Some people still looked at him funny when he went to the stores, no doubt recognizing him and wondering if they were about to be brutally murdered. He wanted to tell them so badly that they weren't in any danger from him. He didn't want to hurt anyone.
He was lucky if he got four or five hours of sleep at night, and most of that was still filled with nightmares. Tonight was no exception and at 2 in the morning, he found himself staring out the kitchen window, drinking a glass of water when the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, and he knew, instinctively, that shit was about to get weird.
Heart beating fast in his chest, he turned, pausing at the sight of Steve Rogers standing behind him, looking around like he was confused, and damned if Bucky wasn't confused, too, because this wasn't an old man.
This Steve looked like he was 26 or 27, tops.
Yesterday, he'd reluctantly agreed to have lunch with Sam, whom was turning out to be a pretty good friend. It wasn't something he would have imagined a year ago. Or -- technically, five years ago.
No, Bucky was doing his best to scrape together some semblance of a life in the wake of Thanos' reign and the Snap, and Tony's death and Steve's trip to the past.
And, and, and.
It was just a lot easier said than done. Some people still looked at him funny when he went to the stores, no doubt recognizing him and wondering if they were about to be brutally murdered. He wanted to tell them so badly that they weren't in any danger from him. He didn't want to hurt anyone.
He was lucky if he got four or five hours of sleep at night, and most of that was still filled with nightmares. Tonight was no exception and at 2 in the morning, he found himself staring out the kitchen window, drinking a glass of water when the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up, and he knew, instinctively, that shit was about to get weird.
Heart beating fast in his chest, he turned, pausing at the sight of Steve Rogers standing behind him, looking around like he was confused, and damned if Bucky wasn't confused, too, because this wasn't an old man.
This Steve looked like he was 26 or 27, tops.
Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn
Feb. 13th, 2020 07:41 pmSweat drips down the back of his neck as he makes his way out of his hut and into the heat of the Wakandan sun. It's later than he usually gets started on things these days, but today he just hadn't had the energy to make himself get out of bed early. He's still tired, even if he shouldn't be. His body doesn't require the kind of sleep that normal humans need, but the last couple of weeks...well. Since he'd woken up from cryofreeze, sleep's been practically non-existent. Between flat out insomnia and nightmares, he doesn't rest much.
But this isn't even that. He knows how he feels after a restless night, and this isn't it. No, his lack of desire to get out of bed or leave his hut or do anything these days has a lot more to do with a six foot blond who's been back in Wakanda since a few days after he'd woken up. He knows Steve's there, because he's picked up the language easily -- which apparently still a thing he can do thanks to HYDRA -- and he hears whispers about "The Nomad" almost every day. He knows exactly who they mean.
He just rarely sees Steve himself. It's not like he's come around. He's not staying with Bucky. He's either in a hotel or at the palace, and that's fine. Really. He gets it. He doesn't blame Steve.
Bucky's still trying to get used to functioning with one arm. Balance has been surprisingly difficult. He's fallen more than once, used to having to lean to the right to balance the excess weight of the arm that had been strapped to him for the last seventy some years. Shuri's offered to make him a new one and he's turned her down. He doesn't need it. Doesn't want it. He's done fighting, thank you very much.
He doesn't bother with shoes as he pads out into the grassy area near the goats, who are definitely acting a lot more jumpy these days. He'd assume it was him, but his presence actually seems to relax them, so he thinks maybe there's a predator on the prowl at night freaking them out. He walks to pick up his garden hoe, because that's another thing that he's doing -- likes it. Finds it soothing. Growing something and helping it thrive instead of ruining it like he has everything else for the majority of his life.
When he rounds the house, he jumps, startled at Steve's sudden appearance. "Jesus Christ,," he mutters, heart pounding hard.
But this isn't even that. He knows how he feels after a restless night, and this isn't it. No, his lack of desire to get out of bed or leave his hut or do anything these days has a lot more to do with a six foot blond who's been back in Wakanda since a few days after he'd woken up. He knows Steve's there, because he's picked up the language easily -- which apparently still a thing he can do thanks to HYDRA -- and he hears whispers about "The Nomad" almost every day. He knows exactly who they mean.
He just rarely sees Steve himself. It's not like he's come around. He's not staying with Bucky. He's either in a hotel or at the palace, and that's fine. Really. He gets it. He doesn't blame Steve.
Bucky's still trying to get used to functioning with one arm. Balance has been surprisingly difficult. He's fallen more than once, used to having to lean to the right to balance the excess weight of the arm that had been strapped to him for the last seventy some years. Shuri's offered to make him a new one and he's turned her down. He doesn't need it. Doesn't want it. He's done fighting, thank you very much.
He doesn't bother with shoes as he pads out into the grassy area near the goats, who are definitely acting a lot more jumpy these days. He'd assume it was him, but his presence actually seems to relax them, so he thinks maybe there's a predator on the prowl at night freaking them out. He walks to pick up his garden hoe, because that's another thing that he's doing -- likes it. Finds it soothing. Growing something and helping it thrive instead of ruining it like he has everything else for the majority of his life.
When he rounds the house, he jumps, startled at Steve's sudden appearance. "Jesus Christ,," he mutters, heart pounding hard.
Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn
Jan. 15th, 2020 08:07 pmIt was the sound of a quiet pinging noise that woke him from a restless sleep. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times against the faint light filtering into the bedroom from the closed blinds. Steve was curled up beside him, head resting on Bucky's shoulder. He exhaled, letting his eyes drift shut again until the pinging noise sounded once more, and he groaned.
"Someone's trying to get a hold of you, Steve," he grumbled, burying his face in the pillow.
"Someone's trying to get a hold of you, Steve," he grumbled, burying his face in the pillow.
Spam for littleguyfrombrooklyn
Jan. 1st, 2020 06:09 pmBucky'd been fidgety throughout the debriefing with Fury, even if he hadn't moved a muscle as he listened to the mission -- another HYDRA target, smaller, on a remote island in the Pacific. Not the usual setup, which made him uneasy from the get-go. But there was something else, something nagging at him, something in Fury's tone that told him there was more to this mission than he was willing to divulge. It wasn't a surprise. Fury might not be HYDRA, but in some ways his methods were so similar that it felt like being back there anyway. He definitely believed in the need to know principle, and obviously he didn't feel like they needed to know whatever it was he was holding back. His gaze darted to Steve, wondering if he'd picked up on it, too.
But if Steve had, his expression didn't betray his thoughts.
He pressed his lips together as they were dismissed, Fury addressing him as the others agents involved in the mission filtered out of the room. "Barnes. Hang back a minute."
And there it was, he thought, meeting Steve's eyes only briefly before lingering as Fury requested. One the door was shut again, the other man turned to study him.
"You have a different mission while they're disabling all of HYDRA's operating systems and containing the operatives."
Bucky studied him just as intently, his voice flat when he responded. "Who'm I eliminating?"
If Fury was surprised by his response, he gave nothing away. "Your target is Katya Belyakov."
"Who is she?" His voice was wary.
"You sure you wanna know the details, Barnes?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"If you're asking me to murder someone, yes," Bucky said, jaw tightening.
Fury regarded him for a long moment. "Essentially, she's the of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Mind control abilities that she's utilized to force others to commit her dirty work. She's likely being accompanied by a former SHIELD operative who turned out to be moonlighting for HYDRA, Grant Ward. I'd prefer him to remain alive. He's got a lot to answer for."
Every muscle in Bucky's body tensed at the information about Belyakov, but also the name Grant Ward, his stomach turning in recognition.
"Ah. See you're familiar with him then."
"Unfortunately," Bucky responded stiffly, struggling to maintain his composure. "I'm assuming this isn't an optional mission." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"You knew when you signed the dotted line that there's no such thing here, Barnes. Is there a problem? Or do I need to go over the fine print of your contract to refresh your memory?"
Fuck you, he thought. "No, Sir. Am I free to go?"
"You're dismissed."
--
An hour later, he was suited up in his tac gear, breathing steady and even despite the wild pounding of his heart as he boarded the quinjet with a team he didn't know or trust, and the only person on the earth he truly did.
But if Steve had, his expression didn't betray his thoughts.
He pressed his lips together as they were dismissed, Fury addressing him as the others agents involved in the mission filtered out of the room. "Barnes. Hang back a minute."
And there it was, he thought, meeting Steve's eyes only briefly before lingering as Fury requested. One the door was shut again, the other man turned to study him.
"You have a different mission while they're disabling all of HYDRA's operating systems and containing the operatives."
Bucky studied him just as intently, his voice flat when he responded. "Who'm I eliminating?"
If Fury was surprised by his response, he gave nothing away. "Your target is Katya Belyakov."
"Who is she?" His voice was wary.
"You sure you wanna know the details, Barnes?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"If you're asking me to murder someone, yes," Bucky said, jaw tightening.
Fury regarded him for a long moment. "Essentially, she's the of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Mind control abilities that she's utilized to force others to commit her dirty work. She's likely being accompanied by a former SHIELD operative who turned out to be moonlighting for HYDRA, Grant Ward. I'd prefer him to remain alive. He's got a lot to answer for."
Every muscle in Bucky's body tensed at the information about Belyakov, but also the name Grant Ward, his stomach turning in recognition.
"Ah. See you're familiar with him then."
"Unfortunately," Bucky responded stiffly, struggling to maintain his composure. "I'm assuming this isn't an optional mission." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"You knew when you signed the dotted line that there's no such thing here, Barnes. Is there a problem? Or do I need to go over the fine print of your contract to refresh your memory?"
Fuck you, he thought. "No, Sir. Am I free to go?"
"You're dismissed."
--
An hour later, he was suited up in his tac gear, breathing steady and even despite the wild pounding of his heart as he boarded the quinjet with a team he didn't know or trust, and the only person on the earth he truly did.
For littleguyfrombrooklyn
Nov. 26th, 2019 08:42 pmCall him a borough snob, but Bucky would always prefer Brooklyn over Manhattan, even if Manhattan was where both his therapist and physical therapist were. Thanks in great part to Steve, who'd gone along with him to both appointments for the last couple weeks, he was starting to feel more comfortable being out and about, even if it still put him on edge. Today, though, he was out on his own because Steve had been called to duty the day before for some kind of mission that he hadn't even been given details on. Just that SHIELD needed him. And Steve being Steve, stepped up to the plate.
That whole thing put him on edge, too. He'd tried texting him a couple times, but Steve hadn't responded yet, so he just hoped his friend was safe and not in any trouble he couldn't handle. He reminded himself that Steve was essentially an actual superhero, and he wouldn't let his thoughts drift too far into worry. Hopefully.
He was in the middle of flagging down a cab after his physical therapy appointment, too tired to walk all the way to the subway when things went to hell.
The sky opened up with a bright light and there were fucking spaceships darting around, shooting at people. For a moment he thought maybe he'd fallen asleep and was having some kind of fucked up dream, but no. Within moments the street was filled with panicked people screaming and running, and there were fires and smoke and utter pandemonium.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, standing frozen in place for a few seconds until he spotted one of the things heading for a woman and two children just a few feet away. He moved fast -- faster than he realized he even could, scooping the crying kids up in his arm and yanking the woman out of the way just as the ship fired at the spot they'd been standing. He pulled them under the cover of an overhang -- not that it would do much good for long.
That whole thing put him on edge, too. He'd tried texting him a couple times, but Steve hadn't responded yet, so he just hoped his friend was safe and not in any trouble he couldn't handle. He reminded himself that Steve was essentially an actual superhero, and he wouldn't let his thoughts drift too far into worry. Hopefully.
He was in the middle of flagging down a cab after his physical therapy appointment, too tired to walk all the way to the subway when things went to hell.
The sky opened up with a bright light and there were fucking spaceships darting around, shooting at people. For a moment he thought maybe he'd fallen asleep and was having some kind of fucked up dream, but no. Within moments the street was filled with panicked people screaming and running, and there were fires and smoke and utter pandemonium.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, standing frozen in place for a few seconds until he spotted one of the things heading for a woman and two children just a few feet away. He moved fast -- faster than he realized he even could, scooping the crying kids up in his arm and yanking the woman out of the way just as the ship fired at the spot they'd been standing. He pulled them under the cover of an overhang -- not that it would do much good for long.
For littleguyfrombrooklyn
Oct. 26th, 2019 08:19 pmIt was raining the day he was released from the hospital to go to his new place. Because of course it was. That was just the kind of luck he had these days. The army had arranged for his belongings to already be there, which was good considering he was down a limb. The left sleeve of his shirt was clipped neatly so it didn't dangle.
He could've gone to stay with his parents in Indiana. Maybe even should have. But the idea of having to see his mom hide her tears every time she looked at him, and the awkward silences between him and his dad was too much to bear. And Becca was in the middle of her senior year at UCLA, and sure, she had her own place and an empty bedroom and she'd offered, but he wasn't going to burden her with feeling like she had to take care of him.
He'd take care of himself, goddammit. Because that was what adults did, and he was 28 years old, not some little boy.
That didn't mean he didn't have a panic attack in the taxi on the way to the new place, however. And by the time he managed to haul himself out of the car, he was exhausted, out of breath, and the driver looked at him with such pity that Bucky had glared at him and kicked the door shut with his right foot and made his way through the pouring rain and right up to the apartment building.
He could've gone to stay with his parents in Indiana. Maybe even should have. But the idea of having to see his mom hide her tears every time she looked at him, and the awkward silences between him and his dad was too much to bear. And Becca was in the middle of her senior year at UCLA, and sure, she had her own place and an empty bedroom and she'd offered, but he wasn't going to burden her with feeling like she had to take care of him.
He'd take care of himself, goddammit. Because that was what adults did, and he was 28 years old, not some little boy.
That didn't mean he didn't have a panic attack in the taxi on the way to the new place, however. And by the time he managed to haul himself out of the car, he was exhausted, out of breath, and the driver looked at him with such pity that Bucky had glared at him and kicked the door shut with his right foot and made his way through the pouring rain and right up to the apartment building.
