Xuebing Du
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Noah Kahan
roma★
ojovivo
Mike Driver
The Stonewall Inn
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
if i look back, i am lost
Claire Keane
Sade Olutola
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
oozey mess
Show & Tell
Jules of Nature
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
PR's Tumblrdome
tannertan36
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Moldova
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Morocco
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Latvia
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
@defectivexfragmented
please read Rules before interacting. mutuals only.
this is a sideblog and follow backs will come from @alwaysxinxtrouble
this blog is under serious construction so please forgive the ugliness
main muses: matthew murdock (daredevil series) clint barton (mcu - canon divergent) bucky barnes (mcu) yelena belova (mcu) request only: remy lebeau (marvel) frank castle (mcu) steve rogers (mcu)
mains: @wnterslder , @formerfirstson, @agntwells
heavily affliated with: @grimmusings
Ok… this looks bad…
The afternoon crowd moves around him in a steady current, people weaving past without a second glance. Bucky keeps his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his head lowered as he follows the sidewalk without much thought. Freedom is still a strange thing. Hydra's voice is gone from his head, the commands finally silent, but the man underneath them is still little more than a mystery. Steve has given him a name. The Smithsonian filled in dates, photographs, and pieces of a life he can't remember. Everything else exists only as scattered fragments that slip through his fingers whenever he reaches for them.
His gaze lifts just long enough to scan the faces passing by. Then he sees her.
His steps slow almost instinctively as a woman emerges from the crowd, walking in his direction. She has no reason to notice him, but he can't look away. The sounds of the city fade beneath the sudden pounding of his heartbeat as recognition settles somewhere deep inside him.
He knows that face.
Not from a file. Not from Steve. From the dreams that have haunted him ever since Hydra lost its grip. They never last long. Flashes of snow. Gunfire. Screams. Pain. Memories so broken he can't tell where one ends and another begins. But somehow, her face is always there, untouched by the chaos. Clear. Familiar. The one thing his fractured mind has never distorted.
He doesn't know her name. He doesn't know who she is. He isn't even sure if she's part of his past or just another trick of a damaged mind. But as the distance between them closes, one thought drowns out every other.
For the first time since breaking free, one of those fractured pieces was standing right in front of him.
@nobodyssoldixr
It all should have come to an end with the collapse of Midland Circle; the Hand, the Black Sky, and himself. He should have died underneath the hundreds of thousands of pounds of concrete and rubble, buried along side of Elektra. As long as they were together in their last moment, arms wrapped around one another, he could accept this. He could go in peace. But there was no peace. There was pain, fire, and his screams of agony to keep him company as she slipped out of his arms until he was met by the force of shockingly cold water that kicked the breath of his lungs, dragging him down under into the darkness.
Once again, Matt barely crawled back from the edge of death and took refuge in the basement of the same church that raised him after he was orphaned, not knowing if the situation was ironic or poetic. Days slowly dragged by into weeks, wounds steadily healing until he could not take being cooped up a moment longer, slipping on a make shift version of his black suit and going out into the night.
But it wasn’t long before he realized the shadows were hunting him, skulking after him like hungry vermin. The Hand crawled out of the depths of hell in search of the next one they could turn into the Black Sky to complete their mission, apparently having their dark eyes set on him.
Matt hurried down the sidewalk with the hood pulled up over his head in an attempt to hide his identity, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Returning to the basement of the church wasn’t an option, especially not with the orphanage next door. There was one person he had in mind who he thought might be able to help him, whether it be laying low for a few days or getting him out of the city. A few quick turns and the footsteps that had been following him were gone, though he knew it wouldn’t be long before they found him again. He gave in and sprinted the last two blocks, right up to the door to knock almost frantically on it, everything coming out in a single breath as soon as it opened.
“I need your help.” He must have been a sight to see standing on the Sanctum Sanctorum doorstep at this hour, covered in healing cuts and molted bruises, but he didn't know who else to turn to. “Please. If they find me..." His voice trailed off, suggesting more than what needed to be said.
@nobodyssoldixr
The room begins to empty around him as conversations quietly shift toward whatever comes next. Some people linger, comparing notes from the fight, while others drift toward the exits in small groups. Bucky doesn't join any of them. He remains where he is for another few moments, his gaze fixed on Steve from across the room. He watches him smile. Watches him answer a question. Watches the familiar way he carries himself. It should have been enough.
It isn't.
Without a word, Bucky turns and slips out before anyone notices he's gone. His boots carry him through one corridor after another, the sounds of conversation fading behind reinforced walls until all that's left is the steady hum of the compound. He isn't trying to get anywhere in particular. He just needs space. Eventually, he finds himself on one of the observation decks overlooking the darkened grounds, resting both forearms against the railing as his eyes drift over the lights scattered across the campus below.
He tries to convince himself he's imagining it.
Steve looks the same. He sounds the same. Every expression, every mannerism, every small movement is exactly as it should be. If someone asked Bucky to explain what felt wrong, he couldn't. There isn't a single detail he could point to. No misplaced memory. No unfamiliar habit. Nothing that would make anyone else stop and question what they were seeing.
But he's known Steve Rogers for almost his entire life. He knew him before the serum. Before the war. Before either of them became ghosts in history books. He'd spent decades searching for him, fighting beside him, trusting him with his life. There are some things you stop noticing because they've simply always been there, and there are other things you recognize the instant they're gone. Bucky can't explain it any better than that.
A slow breath leaves him as his metal hand curls around the railing, the steel giving a quiet groan beneath the pressure. Every instinct he's learned to trust is telling him the same thing, and no matter how many times he tries to dismiss it, the feeling refuses to loosen its grip.
"Who the hell are you?" he says quietly to the empty night. The words hang in the cool air for a long moment before he lowers his head, his jaw tightening.
@walkitoffrogers
spicy meme call! give this a like and I'll dig through your memes to submit the spiciest of spicy! please specify muse in the comments. multi's, please include your muse.
reminder, I said spiciest of spicy! I'll hear no complaints of the filth left in your inbox!
spicy meme call! give this a like and I'll dig through your memes to submit the spiciest of spicy! please specify muse in the comments. multi's, please include your muse.
What do your muses think about kids? Do any want kids of their own? Would they date someone who already has kids? (For all or as many of your muses as you’d like)
anon, I really appreciate you submitting questions, I really do. but I have it in my rules to please specify muse for a reason. I'd love it if you'd resubmit with who you'd like to answer.
@alwaysxinxtrouble
The first time he saw Bucky Barnes, he thought: This could be a problem. Followed swiftly by: Don't let it become a problem. Steve was a professional above all else. The fact that Bucky was exactly his type (blue eyes, brown hair, the right build, killer smile) was irrelevant. He was a superstar. He was everybody's type, and that was by design. Sidelining attraction was second nature in his line of work, but it only got worse the more he got to know him. It helped if he liked his clients, but it wasn't a requirement, and he liked Bucky. As a person.
He told himself that wasn't the reason his pulse was thrumming fast beneath his skin when he couldn't find him. It was professional concern. It was his job to keep Bucky safe, and it was hard to do that when he didn't know where he was. He'd gotten caught up in an unfortunate conversation with Bucky's manager, Rumlow, about the latest threats. Steve hadn't trusted the guy since he set foot in this place, and the more he learned about him, the more that distrust deepened. He couldn't have said if Brock was an actual threat or if he just didn't like the guy, but he trusted his instincts. Something was off there. By the time he surfaced, Bucky was nowhere to be found.
He frantically scanned the monitors for the security cameras for movement, double-checking all his usual places. "How do you lose someone in their own house?" he snapped at his team. Someone was supposed to have eyes on him at all times. Preferably, eyes and ears. Call him paranoid, but Steve took the threats against him seriously. The house was well-guarded, but it wasn't a fortress. He scanned the row of screens again and exhaled through his teeth, trying to calm his racing heart. Steve didn't panic under pressure. There was a simple answer to this.
Of course.
"Radio if you find him." He stalked out of the room, down the stairs, and out the patio doors, double-checking to make sure everything was secure as he went. He'd only been to the grotto with Bucky that one time, on his first tour of the house, but his feet remembered the way there. He might have hesitated to disrupt his privacy if he hadn't already been keyed up with worry over his disappearance. The tightness in his chest eased slightly at the sight of him, gaze flicking around the space to make sure it was still secure. His voice was calm when he spoke, not betraying his nerves.
"You know, it's difficult to guard you when I don't know where you are."
The steady rush of the waterfall muffles almost everything beyond the grotto, turning the hidden, in-ground hot tub into a pocket of quiet that feels worlds away from the rest of the estate. Steam curls lazily into the evening air while Bucky reclines against the stone ledge, one arm draped over the edge of the water. An open bottle sits within easy reach beside him, condensation collecting beneath it. His cheeks carry the faintest flush, his thoughts pleasantly slower than usual. When Steve's voice cuts through the curtain of falling water, blue eyes blink open before a crooked, unmistakably tipsy smile spreads across his face. "Well..." he drawls, looking him over. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to find me."
The smile softens almost immediately when he notices the tension still sitting across Steve's shoulders. "You were actually worried." It's less teasing than it is genuine realization. He reaches for the bottle, taking another small sip before setting it back on the stone. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to disappear on you. I just needed somewhere nobody could ask me for an interview, a meeting, another autograph..." He gestures lazily toward the waterfall surrounding them. "Back here it's just... quiet. Sometimes I forget that's probably a nightmare for the guy who's supposed to know where I am every second of the day."
His gaze lingers on Steve a little longer now, taking in the perfectly tailored suit, the loosened-but-still-neat tie, the expression that somehow manages to look equal parts relieved and exasperated. A lazy grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You know..." His voice is softer now, slowed just enough by the whiskey. "You don't have to stand over there looking like you're about to write me a citation." He pats the wide stone ledge beside him before letting his hand fall back into the water, sending gentle ripples across the surface. "Come sit for a minute. I promise I won't run away while you're watching."
He tilts his head, the invitation lingering between them, his smile turning just a touch more playful. "Hell..." His eyes travel over Steve again, completely unashamed this time. "If you're worried I'll disappear again, you could always join me." He lifts the bottle with a small shrug. "There's enough room." A beat later, his grin widens into something almost boyish. "Besides... I think it'd do you some good. You look like you've been carrying the weight of the world around on those shoulders all day."
Bucky Barnes was already regretting the elevator. He’d been staring at the floor numbers, trying to breathe through first-day nerves, when the doors slid open again, and someone stepped in at the last second. The impact was solid, warm enough to jolt him back half a step, papers shifting under his arm as his shoulder brushed a chest that felt very much like a wall.
“Sorry—sorry,” he blurted, automatic.
He looked up by mistake. The man beside him wore a charcoal designer suit that fit like it had been tailored with unfair precision, clean lines drawing Bucky’s attention to broad shoulders, a strong jaw, the kind of face that made it hard to remember basic etiquette. Nothing flashy. Just… devastatingly put together. The cologne followed a heartbeat later—subtle, dark, restrained—close enough to notice, impossible to ignore. Heat rushed to Bucky’s face immediately, color creeping up his neck as he snapped his gaze away and fixed it firmly on the opposite wall.
Don’t stare. Don’t even think about staring.
The elevator started moving, the hum loud in the silence. Bucky shifted his weight, painfully aware of how worn his jacket suddenly felt, how out of place he probably looked next to him. His fingers tightened around the folder, heart kicking harder than it should have, cheeks still burning. Something flickered under his ribs—confidence, certainty, a presence that didn’t belong to a nervous intern in scuffed shoes—and just as quickly, he shoved it back down.
First day. New building. Old clothes.
And apparently, elevators were going to be a problem now.
@walkitoffrogers
The hand around his arm is steady enough that it keeps him upright before he can embarrass himself any further. It should have been an ordinary gesture. A stranger making sure another stranger didn't fall over. Instead, Bucky becomes acutely aware of every point of contact, warmth seeping through the sleeve of his jacket in a way that leaves him momentarily speechless.
"It's—yeah." The words stumble over one another before he manages a quiet, "I'm okay. Thank you."
Only after Steve lets go does he risk another glance. Brief this time. Just enough to catch calm blue eyes before his own dart away again, as if he'd touched something he wasn't supposed to. The flush across his cheeks deepens almost immediately. Great. First day, and he's already managed to look like someone who's never spoken to another human being before.
The elevator continues its slow climb, the silence settling back in around them. Bucky clears his throat softly, tightening his grip on the folder tucked beneath his arm before finally finding enough courage to look in Steve's direction again.
"First day," he admits with a sheepish smile that doesn't quite hide his nerves. "I'm starting to think I'm making a memorable impression... just not the kind I was hoping for."
Devildad and spiderson my beloved ueueue
STEVE ROGERS/CAPTAIN AMERICA HAPPY BIRTHDAY to AMERICA and HER CAPTAIN!
Matt Murdock + Symptoms of Depression.
#weaponized poor little meow meow ✅
Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) - 1.02 • “The Star-Spangled Man”
Hawkeye: The Worlds Greatest Marksmen
15 Colours Challenge: 01 侵されない黒 inviolable/uninvadable black
Cap Hydra/Winter Soldier
Link to the source of the challenge (Japanese) : here
OPEN STARTER - CLINT
"Hey, have you seen my hearing aids?" Not able to hear the sound of his own voice, the archer didn't realize he was shouting in his frantic search of the apartment. Papers were strewn across the floor while couch cushions were everywhere but on the couch, a few chairs knocked over in good measure. Though he had heard none of the racket he had made in the process, his world blanketed in an eerie silence. "Tony is going to kill me if I lost another set..."
