Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@metalarmedbarnes
“Alright,” Bucky frowned shutting the refrigerator door, “Which one of you ate my plums?” He asked. He had specifically wrote his name on a post it note and stuck it on the package. There were everybody’s plums, and then there were his plums except that now, there were none left in the common kitchen, which meant that he would have to go grocery shopping. He hated grocery shopping.
T’Challa was amused by the way Bucky acted around him, he thought it was charming the way the man got a little shy. They had fought on opposite sides of the fight sure, but the king had tried to put that all behind him as he really enjoys the presence of Bucky. “T’Challa is fine. You don’t need to refer to me as your highness.” He chuckled softly, giving Bucky a small smile. “My kindness is mine to give, and I am happy you receive it.” His voice was small as he spoke, it was moments like this that he really appreciated. He didn’t need to use his quote on quote king voice, and he was able to just have a normal conversation with someone who wasn’t freaking out over the fact he was a king. “Even if you decide you are okay with the one arm, I’d mean a lot to me if you still looked over my designs.” He said, clutching the papers tightly in his hands. He nodded his head a little at the offer, humbly stepping into Bucky’s room.
“Alright, T’Challa.” He replied, lips quirking up as they formed the words. “Sorry. It just feels like you’re... so much more than us.” Shrugging, Bucky turned back to the door, opening it and walking into the the apartment before inviting T’Challa in. He felt oddly touched. If the man had taken out of his time to personally design a new arm for Bucky, he would be rude and ungrateful to not even take a look at them. “Make yourself at home.” He gestured to the couch as a suggestion before making his way to the kitchenette to turn the kettle on.
“Can I offer you something to drink, or eat perhaps? Tea, coffee... plums?” That’s what people did when they had guests over right? The last time someone had shown up at his place, they were uninvited and it had turned into a fight in less than 3 seconds. He was a bit rusty in the ‘welcoming host’ department but at least he was trying.
Moodboard #1 | Bucky’s Space
Home was a foreign concept to Bucky. The last time he had truly had a home was in…1942? After that, he’d had nothing. He had gone to war, and then he was a prisoner, had gone back to fighting for his country before being captured again. From being a prisoner, to a weapon, frozen an incalculable amount of time, to becoming a fugitive, a SHIELD operative and now… He wasn’t sure what he was. He had free will, technically. But weren’t they forced to live at Elysium?
Bucky looked around his room. He’d had chosen the smallest room he could find, but by Tony Stark’s standards it was fairly bigger than anything he could have expected to live in. He barely had enough clothing to fill a duffel bag, a few pairs of jeans and distressed sweats, pull overs thinned out from wear.
The space was too big and too empty, while furnished with more things he had ever owned in his life. Bucky wasn’t sure how to deal with this, with anything. There had been discussion of him going back in the ice. Of him being a danger, with his instruction manual in the wind.
The dark haired man decided not to wallow on these thoughts for now. He would have enough time later at night when he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He pulled on his favorite faded red henley shirt over his head, folding the left sleeve in on itself so it wouldn’t fling about as he walked around, but not so much that his stump would be visible. Apparently, it made the others uncomfortable.
Just as he walked out the door, he heard a set of footsteps approaching in his direction.
The last person Aurora ever spoke to before the team split, was Bucky. She felt some sort of deeper connection and was the only person she really trusted. There was still so much she didn’t know about him, and there was so much he didn’t know about her but that didn’t matter to them.
When she heard the news about everyone moving into Elysium her mind instantly traveled to Bucky. She hoped they were able to locate him and that she’d see how he was doing. They both sort of disappeared off each other’s radar and haven’t spoken to each other since.
She’d already met with most of the people she remembered and Bucky was the last on her list. Not because she didn’t want to see him, more so she was nervous. What would she say ? What would he say ? She wanted to pick up right back where they left off but at the same time she wanted to start a fresh. Elysium was created so that they could lead new lives, start fresh as regular citizens and she felt ready to do that with Bucky.
She stepped out of her room and the whole world stopped spinning. It was as if the plan she had set up in her head was being rejected by her brain. She took a deep breath before striding down the hallway. The hallway was empty and all she could hear was the sound of her own shoes against the stone floor. A door opened not so far away from her and he stepped out. With another deep breath, she picked up her speed and closed the space between the two of them.
“How’s it going, Bucky ? Been a while since we spoke, huh ?” she said softly.
Bucky hadn’t expected it to be Aurora. Owens. The only person who had stayed and that he had after it all. And then he’d left, and they’d had to say goodbye. God knew how much he had been worried about coming back to find that she wasn’t there or that something had happened to her and she wouldn’t be coming back. he had done his best to try and locate her whenever he could, but he was on the run and endangering her was the last thing he wanted to do. And so months had gone by of radio silence between them, not knowing where she was or if she was safe.
“It’s been too long, Owens.” He replied with a small smile before pulling her in for a hug. “I missed you,” he admitted, finally relaxing now that he could feel she was really there. Yes, they would always have to be on their guard but Elysium would be a chance for them to grow and live, without constant targets on their backs or the fear of the precarious lives they tried to build tumbling down around them.
“How have you been?”
Natasha was getting better at navigating around Elysium. The first couple days she had wondered around in circles, making a mental map of the place. She asked Tony to see the floor plans but he “couldn’t locate them”. However, Natasha knew this was just to annoy her. There was no point in hacking into his computer when she was safe and had time on her hands; might as well do it the old-fashioned way.
Now, a few days after move in, Natasha was able to take in and recognize the small details; lightbulbs, wallpaper, carpet colors. The rooms were slowly beginning to fill, as old partners and strangers trickled in.
Natasha was walking down one hallway that was, for the most part, uninhabited. She assumed this was where the less desirable rooms were, the last choice for everyone in Elysium so far.
That was when she heard the door opening and a figure stepped out in front of her.
The dark mop of hair, the red shirt, the face.
“Bucky?” Natasha asked, her voice almost a whisper.
“The one and only,” he replied, assessing the redhead in front of him. Natasha Romanov, spy, assassin, avenger...friend or foe? They had worked with each other, once. Fought each other, too. Had there been more? He couldn’t remember. Judging by her stance, she probably hadn’t come to seek him out intentionally.
He wondered if she would stop to converse or just be on her way. It was strange, to picture himself making small talk with this woman, after having been so hostile to each other. And yet they were there, now living in the same building, sharing common areas. If there was a hatchet to be buried, the sooner would be the better. As confusing as it was to be an brainwashed 90 year old ex-assassin, it would be harder if he didn’t try to maintain civil relationships with the housemates.
“Can I help you with something?” He asked with a small smile.
moodboard: ↪ Bucky Barnes
“who the hell is Bucky?”
Home was a foreign concept to Bucky. The last time he had truly had a home was in…1942? After that, he’d had nothing. He had gone to war, and then he was a prisoner, had gone back to fighting for his country before being captured again. From being a prisoner, to a weapon, frozen an incalculable amount of time, to becoming a fugitive, a SHIELD operative and now… He wasn’t sure what he was. He had free will, technically. But weren’t they forced to live at Elysium?
Bucky looked around his room. He’d had chosen the smallest room he could find, but by Tony Stark’s standards it was fairly bigger than anything he could have expected to live in. He barely had enough clothing to fill a duffel bag, a few pairs of jeans and distressed sweats, pull overs thinned out from wear.
The space was too big and too empty, while furnished with more things he had ever owned in his life. Bucky wasn’t sure how to deal with this, with anything. There had been discussion of him going back in the ice. Of him being a danger, with his instruction manual in the wind.
The dark haired man decided not to wallow on these thoughts for now. He would have enough time later at night when he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He pulled on his favorite faded red henley shirt over his head, folding the left sleeve in on itself so it wouldn’t fling about as he walked around, but not so much that his stump would be visible. Apparently, it made the others uncomfortable.
Just as he walked out the door, he heard a set of footsteps approaching in his direction.
T’Challa had been so opposed to moving into some building away from Wakanda, he was now the king after all. It took much convincing, but he finally decided to come with the rest of the Avengers, having bonded a lot with them. Moving in wasn’t very pleasant, and he didn’t want to sound like a snob, but the living conditions were lower than he was used to.
He had a room assigned to him, a few of his guards from his home came with him. Although he was living with the quote on quote good guys, he still needed to take precautions. The Avengers said they were all back together and everything was great, but he still felt a little but of animosity between them, and he didn’t want to be caught in the cross fire.
There was one person in particular that kept his interest and it was James Barnes. He had made an arrangement with Steve to watch over Bucky, and he had promised to keep him safe, which he definitely planned to do. He was in the process of creating designs for a new arm for the man, and he was interested in hearing his opinions of the designs.
He knew exactly where Bucky’s room was, and he made his way there. As he approached the man’s room, he noticed him walking out of it. “James.” He called out after him. “I have a few things for you to look over.” He said softly as he got closer to the man. “It’s about your new arm.”
Bucky hadn’t expected T'Challa to be the one to approach him. After all, the man was king to Wakanda, heir to one of the leading nations in the world in terms of technology and pretty much everything innovation wise. The man before him was royalty and his sole presence commanded respect. Having spent so long on opposite spectrums of fighting what they both thought was the good fight, Bucky didn’t know exactly how to approach him. He was a king after all. “Yes, sure… Your highness.” He replied. “Thank you for your kindness.” Bucky wasn't exactly sure he deserved it.
He didn't want to add anything unnecessary to the Kings workload. "I appreciate it, but it isn't necessary. I can live with one arm." Ye, it had taken some getting used to but nothing he couldn't surmount. Especially now that they were grounded and couldn't exactly 'fight for the greater good' anymore. The conversation would need to be continued either way, whether he wanted the arm or not. Standing in the hall wasn't exactly an option when it came to a discussion setting. "Want to come in?" He proposed.
Home was a foreign concept to Bucky. The last time he had truly had a home was in…1942? After that, he’d had nothing. He had gone to war, and then he was a prisoner, had gone back to fighting for his country before being captured again. From being a prisoner, to a weapon, frozen an incalculable amount of time, to becoming a fugitive, a SHIELD operative and now… He wasn’t sure what he was. He had free will, technically. But weren’t they forced to live at Elysium?
Bucky looked around his room. He’d had chosen the smallest room he could find, but by Tony Stark’s standards it was fairly bigger than anything he could have expected to live in. He barely had enough clothing to fill a duffel bag, a few pairs of jeans and distressed sweats, pull overs thinned out from wear.
The space was too big and too empty, while furnished with more things he had ever owned in his life. Bucky wasn’t sure how to deal with this, with anything. There had been discussion of him going back in the ice. Of him being a danger, with his instruction manual in the wind.
The dark haired man decided not to wallow on these thoughts for now. He would have enough time later at night when he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He pulled on his favorite faded red henley shirt over his head, folding the left sleeve in on itself so it wouldn’t fling about as he walked around, but not so much that his stump would be visible. Apparently, it made the others uncomfortable.
Just as he walked out the door, he heard a set of footsteps approaching in his direction.
text / open
Peter: uhh...sorry?
Bucky:...
Bucky: How did you get this number
text / open
Peter: peter...peter quill. ya know....starlord?
Peter: wait...who is this?
Bucky: Never heard of you.
Bucky: You must have misdialed. Don't call again.
Bucky: Text. Whatever.
text / open
Peter: shit I over slept
Peter: please tell me move in day wasn't today!
Bucky: New phone. Who is this?
HE’S SOMETHING IN BETWEEN
sec-184 | {buckens}
She’d become a killing machine. The speed and efficiency at which she worked was 10 times what she usually did, and she felt nothing at all considering they were metal droids being mass produced by the second.
Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing only, ENDING THE FIGHT. She shot at two droids ahead of her before spinning and punching a hole clean through another. The pain was immense and blood dripped down her wrist but it felt like nothing to the woman. The bottled up pain and aggression was being unleashed and wreaking havoc on the countless droids. Though it wasn’t just pain and aggression, it was love and man was it on her mind.
That night her and Bucky had spent in the hotel a couple weeks ago was coming back to her. They were drunk she was actually far drunker than he was and central park was so gorgeous under the night sky she couldn’t stop herself from kissing him. It just sort of happened, there on Gapstow Bridge and it all felt right. The hotel was a whole nother story, everything was fueled by alcohol and passion. It was something she never knew she wanted and once she had it she was so glad she did, and waking up with bucky the next morning was even better. It was all so perfect for that night and the day after.
The reminder of happiness through her off, after all the droids had dropped to the ground she noticed the hole in her side. The amount of blood being lost was increasing drastically by the minute. She winced through the pain and moved as quickly as she could to somewhere relatively safe.
As she sat on the steps of a stone building, the realization hit her. She might very well die. She looked up at the sky and took a deep breath before radioing in for Bucky. If there was one person she wanted by her side as she died, it was him.
“if you get the chance, i could really use you in sec-184,” she said through gritted teeth.
{ @metalarmedbarnes }
There was something wrong in her voice. Bucky didn’t hear it as much as sense it. He’d grown accustomed to the smile in her voice, the light of her laughter, the quiver of her anger. Attuned to her were his senses, that’s how he would describe it. And right now they were sending alarms through his brain and a shiver down his spine and before he could fully know what he was doing he was falling off a bridge and landing straight onto one of those flying drones. The thing tried to fight him off but it was headed where he needed to be, Sector 184 and so he held on as it went crashing in a downwards spiral.
Bucky was a man who had, time and time again, been stripped of everything he had, everything he wanted, everything he had ever valued. Everything, everyone he loved. He’d lost an arm, his soul, his family, his best friend, he’d lost life as he’d known it more than once and just when he’d emerged from years of manipulation and worked hard to be at a place where he was happy, Ultron had ripped it from him. He’d had nothing left but Aurora. He’d had her and she’d had him, and he couldn’t give a name to what he felt but it was the only thing left. Before the droid had even touched the ground Bucky was rolling off it, sprinting as soon as his feet made contact with the dirt and the metal being was exploding behind him.
“Owens, where are you?” He growled, going like a bat out of hell, careening through the cold lifeless bots. Metal limbs were flying through the air, the soldier ripping through them with his hands, Mentally, he made inventory of his weapons and ammunition, damning himself for not having thought to take more medical material than just a few bandage rolls. He hoped she was alright. She had to be.
Just Another Glass... | Owens & Bucky
“Ah yes but, I always find a way out of it,” she pointed out. Traveling through space, you learn how to get out of difficult situations pretty quick. She rolled her eyes at Bucky before lightly laughing. “If ever you have to carry me, It’s bridal style. Anything else and I’ll either puke or pass out,” she smiled sheepishly. She’s only drank to the “unable to walk” point 3 times, each time she’d crash anywhere and walk it off the morning. She was getting distracted, the way his lips moved while he spoke was becoming evident. She was sober, in a semi-crowded bar, and for the first time, Aurora Peyton Owens was feeling a thing in her heart.
She snapped back to reality with his next comment. “Resume? I think all mine says is; gets the job done,” she chuckled. “Not much use for one when you’re good at what you do,” she shrugged and smiled once more. He made a joke ! He was enjoying himself ! This is exactly what she wanted, just her and her drinking buddy, having a grand time. Hopefully he would enjoy the rest of the night’s festives as well. “We must or else you owe me half the cost,” she said with a straight face, before breaking out into a smile. “I’m kidding by the way, I would never,” she laughed lightly. Shit. His glance could easily set her off, she felt even more heat rush to her cheeks as she smiled once again.
“Well look at you Charles Dickens, you’ve got quite a story there, I think I enjoyed the back breaking the most,” she chuckled. “Wasn’t born yesterday Barnes, I’m aware of what a kink is,” she laughed, turning even more red in the face. Typically, the mention of anything sexual didn’t cause blood to rush to her cheeks. Bucky must have been working his magic once again. “Is there something you’re trying hint Bucky?” She asked and raised her eyebrow with a slight smirk.
“Lady thinks that is a wonderful idea,” she grinned as Bucky left. Dear god he was amazing and dear god did she need some liquor in her.
“Have some respets for your elders, young lady.” He joked. Bucky felt somewhat at ease, more self-assured, less like a man out of time. This was easy enough, he was in a bar with a beautiful woman. He remembers being good with the ladies. Taking them out on the town, making sure to treat them like they should be, acting like the perfect gentleman. Gentleness, that he was relearning. Owens wasn’t just any woman, however. She was his friend, a person that had showed him the utmost kindness and had earned, gained his trust and respect. Yeah, she was gorgeous, fun, loving and deserved only the best and he wouldn’t dare disrespect her in anyway. At the same time, she was Owens. He could let go with her. He could be blunt, open, unsure, himself. Bucky looked back over his shoulder at Aurora and smiled.
“Hey, we said we would have fun, right?” The soldier asked, raising a brow.
Bucky figured he could both be drunk, and responsible. Besides, he knew how to handle his liquor, a drunk supersoldier was still a supersoldier and he could count on his metabolism to sober him up quickly enough. “Can I get six shots with that please? I want your clearest and hardest liquor.” He asked the bartender. A minute later, the man held a small tray holding 9 glasses in total.
“What could possibly go wrong?” He asked Aurora, barely hiding his grin.
2015. graphite, watercolor, acrylic, ink, colored pencil & white gel pen on 9x12″ hot press watercolor paper.
[Civil War trailer]
