Who The Hell Is Bucky?

I Don’t Need Protection || Luke and Bucky

James looked up when the boy came back and nodded appreciatively. “Thanks.” He said softly, looking around in the bag. He took the bag of chips and grazed on it slowly, knowing that he would make himself sick if he ate too much too quickly no matter how hungry he was.

“So, what next, kid?” He asked, laying back down on the blankets and closed his eyes. “Where to next?”

sergeant-buckybear:

James looked up when the boy came back and nodded appreciatively. “Thanks.” He said softly, looking around in the bag. He took the bag of chips and grazed on it slowly, knowing that he would make himself sick if he ate too much too quickly no matter how hungry he was.

“So, what next, kid?” He asked, laying back down on the blankets and closed his eyes. “Where to next?”

He pulled out the pint of ice cream and tore open the package of plastic spoons to get at one. A few spoonfuls of the cold, creamy treat was shoveled into the boy’s mouth before he spoke again. “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. Then another heaping scoop of ice cream made its way into his mouth. “I don’t really have anywhere else to go, except back to the shelter. And I don’t go there all the time.”

James nodded and opened his eyes, popping a few more chips into his mouth. “Well, I got one idea...but I’m not too sure about it. I gotta check it out before I make any definitive actions.” He said slowly and sat up.

“Ever heard of the Avengers? Or Captain America?”

I Don’t Need Protection || Luke and Bucky

James looked up, pulling his sweatshirt tighter around him. “I’ll eat anything…surprise me.” He mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment. He was running on almost no food, so his run in with the kid’s bullies had tired him out. He heard the kid leave, the rustle of the blankets and the quieting footsteps. He quickly fell asleep, but his fingers instinctively wrapped around his knife next to him just in case.

The store wasn’t hard to get to or navigate. Luke picked up a basket on his way in and filled it with snacks as he walked through the aisles. By the time he finished, he had a bag of chips, a pint of ice cream and a small pack of plastic spoons, a 4-pack of Starbucks mocha frappuccinos, and 5 different chocolate bars. He paid with crumpled bills from the pocket of his sweatshirt and left with his bags, pointedly ignoring the look the cashier was giving him.

“Back,” he announced, walking back in and dropping to sit on the floor a few feet from James. He pulled out one of the bottles of Starbucks and opened it, then chugged almost the entire thing before starting to open the rest of the food.

James looked up when the boy came back and nodded appreciatively. “Thanks.” He said softly, looking around in the bag. He took the bag of chips and grazed on it slowly, knowing that he would make himself sick if he ate too much too quickly no matter how hungry he was.

“So, what next, kid?” He asked, laying back down on the blankets and closed his eyes. “Where to next?”

Nothing is Lost-Captainstevengrant

The asset (James, he reminded himself, his name was James) nodded slowly and carefully stood up, gathering his few belongs and tucking them against his chest. He had managed to gain a small duffel bag where he kept some knives and clothes and any scraps of food he could find. He clutched the bag like his life depended on it and slowly walked behind Steve, keeping a few feet between them as a precautionary measure. His eyes darted around the alley and he froze for a moment as they reached the mouth of the alley, stopping to scan for any threats before he could continue.

As they walked quietly to Steve’s apartment, James shivered and kept his head down a bit. He never closed the distance between them, his hunched shoulders and hanging head gave him the appearance of a stray dog following Steve with his tail between his legs.

“Thank you.” He whispered as he followed Steve up the stairs to the apartment. A quiet utterance, but suited for this normal moment. A friend offering to help another friend and it left James with a strange warmth in his chest.

Steve shifted his weight onto his heels, watching while Bucky collected a scant few things–things that Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him could be replaced by newer, cleaner versions. When Bucky stood, Steve led him out to the mouth of the alleyway and gave a quick side-to-side glance before stepping out onto the moderately busy sidewalk. It was still early enough that most of the patrons were people on their way to work or out on their morning jogs, no one who would be overly interested in the two men. As promised, Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks down the road. He crouched down to unlace his shoe and remove the key. Brooklyn apartments were far more secure than they had been the last time Steve and Bucky had shared a place of residence. With a gentle smile, he held open the door for his counterpart. “It’s no problem,” Steve responded, equally as soft. When they finally reached his apartment, a modest studio flat near the top floor, Steve unlocked the door and let Bucky in. “When did you get back to New York?” he asked. He hoped that starting with an easy question would avoid overwhelming the other man. It was clear that Bucky was in a fragile state for the time being.

James stepped inside and looked around, his eyes darting to every possible exit before returning to the face of his friend. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and looked down.

“About...about a week ago.” He said softly, the simple statement posed as a question as he wasn’t entirely sure. Some days would disappear, he’d wake up and not remember how he got there or how much time had passed. He shifted his weight quietly, standing near the front door. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, the domestic setting unfamiliar to him. “I was...I think I was in Chicago before this.” He added softly and cleared his throat.

After much deliberation and hesitating, he set his bag down and sat on the floor to unlace his boots. He took them off, placing them neatly by the door and looked up at Steve. “My museum says we used to live near here...right?”

I Don’t Need Protection || Luke and Bucky

James looked up and nodded. “I stay here on and off whenever I’m in the city. No one else comes here, well…besides the occasional crack addict.” He shrugged. “But they keep to themselves.” He mumbled, sitting down on one of the blankets and digging into his bag. He pulled out a thinning sweatshirt and balled it up into a pillow before yawning and laying down.

“If you’re hungry, they’re is the grocery store next door…they usually have good food in the dumpsters or you could actually buy it with any money you have.” He mumbled, looking over at the kid.

“Crack addict?” If James had been trying to be reassuring, those words had the opposite affect. Luke wasn’t too excited about the possibility of waking up to a crack addict in the room. Maybe they would keep to themselves like James said, but it was still a worrying thought.

“Yeah, I’m going to go shopping. Is there anything you want?” He could afford to share. If James didn’t want anything, he’d just buy himself some things to snack on and share those.

James looked up, pulling his sweatshirt tighter around him. “I’ll eat anything...surprise me.” He mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment. He was running on almost no food, so his run in with the kid’s bullies had tired him out. He heard the kid leave, the rustle of the blankets and the quieting footsteps. He quickly fell asleep, but his fingers instinctively wrapped around his knife next to him just in case.

widowbitesandhearingaids-blog

pernotti

Imagine Bucky signing up to tumblr. On a level of 1- Soviet Russia, how conflicted do you think he would be over, ’ I’m not a robot’ ?

trashselim

Local man ruins everything.

#whoops #my bad

There is no way that anyone could convince me that Natasha “shall we play a game” Romanoff and Bucky “let’s go to a science convention on my last night before deployment” wouldn’t be the nerdiest assassin duo to ever make dad jokes while offing bad guys

Nothing is Lost-Captainstevengrant

The asset shivered and pulled the blanket tighter. He looked up at the blond as he spoke and nodded in thanks, his lips twitching with a smile of gratitude. He brought his knees closer to his body, bracing himself against the unforgiving New York cold.

“…Food, shelter…a-and…” He cut himself off, licking his dry and crackling lips. “Answers. I need answers. Who I was, about my life and what happened…” He whispered. Protection and food were his first priorities. His HYDRA training had conditioned him to run on little food and under extreme conditions while on missions, but months of hunger and freezing weather had put a toll on his enhanced body. He was weaker and thinning quickly as his body used up more energy than he could replenish.

He knew Steve was taking a risk taking him in. It was one of the reasons he kept away, to protect Steve from the damage the asset might unleash upon his life. Steve had built a life for himself, with friends and a job. The asset could only ever ruin that.

For now, it seemed that Bucky intended no harm to Steve, so he walked down the alley until he was standing only a couple feet ahead of him. Then he lowered himself into a crouch, elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging in front of him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out just how long Bucky had been stranded and just how unequipped the Winter Soldier was for life without HYDRA to keep him fit and primed. While his escape may have given back to him his freedom, he clearly didn’t remember the life that he had lived in the forties–a life of scrounging and just barely making it by. After a moment of thought, Steve nodded his head and stood up. “We shouldn’t stay out here. My apartment’s just down the block. I can make some breakfast and we can talk,” he suggested. The offer was so painfully domestic: a meal and catching up. If it weren’t for the fact that the man in front of him remembered nothing before he had been turned into a weapon, Steve might have smiled at the image. “I’ll answer any questions you have,” he added, turning back towards the street. It seemed unlikely that Bucky would remain here when there was an offer that would fulfill all his needs. Steve only hoped that his generosity would not backfire on him. He had to trust that Bucky was still in there somewhere, grappling with HYDRA’s pet for control over the body they both inhabited. “But I have questions too.”

The asset (James, he reminded himself, his name was James) nodded slowly and carefully stood up, gathering his few belongs and tucking them against his chest. He had managed to gain a small duffel bag where he kept some knives and clothes and any scraps of food he could find. He clutched the bag like his life depended on it and slowly walked behind Steve, keeping a few feet between them as a precautionary measure. His eyes darted around the alley and he froze for a moment as they reached the mouth of the alley, stopping to scan for any threats before he could continue.

As they walked quietly to Steve’s apartment, James shivered and kept his head down a bit. He never closed the distance between them, his hunched shoulders and hanging head gave him the appearance of a stray dog following Steve with his tail between his legs.

“Thank you.” He whispered as he followed Steve up the stairs to the apartment. A quiet utterance, but suited for this normal moment. A friend offering to help another friend and it left James with a strange warmth in his chest.

Nothing is Lost-Captainstevengrant

The asset froze, his eyes wide as he kept his hand around the hilt of his knife and looked down the alley to the mouth. Backlit by the rising run was a broad shoulders man, dressed in warm running clothes. The asset looked at the man for several quiet moments, his hood hiding most of his face. As his eyes adjusted, he recognized the face from the bridge and the museum.

“…you call me Bucky.” He said softly, his voice thin and rough from lack of use. “James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky…” He whispered, his head turning and his hood sliding off to reveal his face. His hair was long and matted, unwashed and tangled from months of hiding. His face was hidden under a beard, adding some shape to his pale and gaunt face. Under the watchful eye of HYDRA, he had been well-fed and cared for like one would clean and oil their gun. Now, he was starving and unwashed. He was dressed in worn old sweatshirts and pants, too large for his thinning body, that he had found as the weather got colder. He blinked up at the blond, listing the facts that he knew in his head to try to keep himself calm.

“…Steven Grant Rogers…Captain America.” He whispered, adding it to his list of memories and things he knew for fact. He finally looked up into the man’s face, his eyes wide and cloudy with fear and desperation. “You can help me.”

Steve’s cheeks were bitten pink by the cool dawn air and the exertion of his brief run. Tendrils of steam curled from his mouth and floated upwards to mingle in the city smog as he wandered tentatively down the narrow alley, towards the man curled in his ratty sweatshirt. By the time he had taken three steps, Steve was certain that he hadn’t incorrectly assumed the other man’s identity. He could hear the whirring gears of Bucky’s metal arm as he shifted positions.

Despite the overwhelming desire to run to Bucky, Steve hung back, steeling himself to fight if need be. It was clear, however, that Bucky was in no shape for any sort of intensive combat, and it was entirely likely that Steve would be able to disarm him quickly. Still, he stayed near the mouth of the alley, posture lax, expression hopeful. After so much searching, it was a relief to find Bucky so near to home.

At Bucky’s comment, Steve’s lips turned into a sad smile. “Yeah, Buck, I can help. You’ve just gotta come with me.” Bringing Bucky to his apartment would be incredibly dangerous, but he feared that taking him to Coulson or Fury would result in a less than desirable outcome. As they rebuilt SHIELD from the ground up, having a threat like the Winter Soldier alive and well was too great a threat. Steve wasn’t ready to lead his best friend to his death. “What do you need help with?” he asked.

The asset shivered and pulled the blanket tighter. He looked up at the blond as he spoke and nodded in thanks, his lips twitching with a smile of gratitude. He brought his knees closer to his body, bracing himself against the unforgiving New York cold.

“...Food, shelter...a-and...” He cut himself off, licking his dry and crackling lips. “Answers. I need answers. Who I was, about my life and what happened...” He whispered. Protection and food were his first priorities. His HYDRA training had conditioned him to run on little food and under extreme conditions while on missions, but months of hunger and freezing weather had put a toll on his enhanced body. He was weaker and thinning quickly as his body used up more energy than he could replenish.

He knew Steve was taking a risk taking him in. It was one of the reasons he kept away, to protect Steve from the damage the asset might unleash upon his life. Steve had built a life for himself, with friends and a job. The asset could only ever ruin that.

I Don’t Need Protection || Luke and Bucky

James nodded and pulled his hood up before leading the way out of the alley and down the street towards the factory district. He glanced over his shoulder a few times to make sure that the kid was coming, but they walked in silence until they reached the abandoned office building. In the lobby area was a broken vending machine that had been raided by other squatters. He lead them to a back room on the first floor where there were some blankets and a few battery powered lanterns. “Make yourself comfortable…”

This building was definitely nothing like the youth shelter he had been staying at, but at least he didn’t have to abide by someone else’s rules. No curfew to worry about if he wanted a bed and no light’s out time. He didn’t have to pretend to make an effort to abide their rules here. Plus he had someone big and intimidating on his side now.

The first thing Luke did was pick up one of the blankets and shake it out, making sure there was nothing unpleasant hiding in it. Sharing the night with a rat or a roach wasn’t very high on his to-do list. “Thanks. Do you usually stay here? We’re not going to have to worry about anyone else, are we?”

James looked up and nodded. “I stay here on and off whenever I’m in the city. No one else comes here, well...besides the occasional crack addict.” He shrugged. “But they keep to themselves.” He mumbled, sitting down on one of the blankets and digging into his bag. He pulled out a thinning sweatshirt and balled it up into a pillow before yawning and laying down.

“If you’re hungry, they’re is the grocery store next door...they usually have good food in the dumpsters or you could actually buy it with any money you have.” He mumbled, looking over at the kid.

Nothing is Lost-Captainstevengrant

The asset pulled the thin blanket that he had found tighter around himself in hopes of fighting off the chill that creeped into his bones. He had no way of determining how much time had passed since he fled HYDRA, many days lost to exhaustion and stolen hours of sleep. He shivered and buried his flesh hand into the folds of the blankets as he looked down the dimly lit alley way. The sun was just starting to lighten the sky to a muddy grey and relief over came him as he told himself he had survived another night. HYDRA had not found him. Yet.

Looking down at his knees, tucked close to his chest, he slowly made a list of everything he knew. Name: James Buchanan Barnes, Age: 95, born in Brooklyn, best friend to one Steven Grant Rogers. Former best friend. The man that sat curled up in dirty blankets, coated in almost a years worth of dirty and grime, was not the Bucky Barnes that Steve Rogers knew. It was what made him run from him for so long. He would only be a disappointment to the blond; a broken soldier who jumped at the slightest noise was not who he wanted.

Unfortunately, running couldn’t keep him safe any more. He needed answers, to start putting the pieces of his mind back together. He came to Brooklyn, where the museum said it all started. But now that he was here, he didn’t know where to go. A gust of wind blew down the alley, causing the asset to shiver once more. He closed his eyes tight against the cold, only to snap them open once more as he heard footsteps from the mouth of the alley. He reached into his jacket pocket, his numbed fingers wrapping around the hilt of his knife as he prepared to attack.

In the end, it had been Sam who finally convinced Steve to return to Brooklyn, and Steve still found himself entirely out of place in the city he had once known better than his own mind. While the vestiges of the Brooklyn he had grown up in were still there–tomcats prowling in dimly lit alleyways, homeless men and women in a restless sleep curled up under tattered rags, rusted fire escapes that creaked in a strong breeze–it felt wrong. Mainly it was the lack of someone, namely Bucky, at his side. The ambiance had changed. There were no more dockworkers who had an unspoken camaraderie stumbling from bars with dolled up dames on their arms. There was a level of urgency that always made Steve feel disconnected from modern people.

He was starting out on his run at dawn. The normal commute at that time was primarily posh businessmen in crisp suits and the occasional tourist, which, while entirely different from the Brooklyn he knew, was the easiest Brooklyn to maneuver through. When the locals clogged the sidewalks, Steve knew that running was nearly impossible, similar to trying to swim in the snow.

His normal run took him past more homeless people than he could count, so one man huddled against a dumpster shouldn’t have caught his attention. It wouldn’t have if he hadn’t caught the shine from the corner of his eye. Muted sunlight reflecting off of metal. He and Sam were still searching for Bucky whenever they had time, but Steve had never allowed himself to hope that he might find his best friend so close to home. That said, it felt fitting that they would meet again where they had first found each other–in an alleyway on a Brooklyn side street when the world seemed to be crashing down. Quietly, tentatively, Steve turned into the alley and spoke like a man who had a wild animal cornered. “Bucky? Is that you?”

The asset froze, his eyes wide as he kept his hand around the hilt of his knife and looked down the alley to the mouth. Backlit by the rising run was a broad shoulders man, dressed in warm running clothes. The asset looked at the man for several quiet moments, his hood hiding most of his face. As his eyes adjusted, he recognized the face from the bridge and the museum.

“...you call me Bucky.” He said softly, his voice thin and rough from lack of use. “James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky...” He whispered, his head turning and his hood sliding off to reveal his face. His hair was long and matted, unwashed and tangled from months of hiding. His face was hidden under a beard, adding some shape to his pale and gaunt face. Under the watchful eye of HYDRA, he had been well-fed and cared for like one would clean and oil their gun. Now, he was starving and unwashed. He was dressed in worn old sweatshirts and pants, too large for his thinning body, that he had found as the weather got colder. He blinked up at the blond, listing the facts that he knew in his head to try to keep himself calm.

“...Steven Grant Rogers...Captain America.” He whispered, adding it to his list of memories and things he knew for fact. He finally looked up into the man’s face, his eyes wide and cloudy with fear and desperation. “You can help me.”

#mc: starter #closed #marvel convergence #captainstevengrant

Nothing is Lost-Captainstevengrant

The asset pulled the thin blanket that he had found tighter around himself in hopes of fighting off the chill that creeped into his bones. He had no way of determining how much time had passed since he fled HYDRA, many days lost to exhaustion and stolen hours of sleep. He shivered and buried his flesh hand into the folds of the blankets as he looked down the dimly lit alley way. The sun was just starting to lighten the sky to a muddy grey and relief over came him as he told himself he had survived another night. HYDRA had not found him. Yet.

Looking down at his knees, tucked close to his chest, he slowly made a list of everything he knew. Name: James Buchanan Barnes, Age: 95, born in Brooklyn, best friend to one Steven Grant Rogers. Former best friend. The man that sat curled up in dirty blankets, coated in almost a years worth of dirty and grime, was not the Bucky Barnes that Steve Rogers knew. It was what made him run from him for so long. He would only be a disappointment to the blond; a broken soldier who jumped at the slightest noise was not who he wanted.

Unfortunately, running couldn’t keep him safe any more. He needed answers, to start putting the pieces of his mind back together. He came to Brooklyn, where the museum said it all started. But now that he was here, he didn’t know where to go. A gust of wind blew down the alley, causing the asset to shiver once more. He closed his eyes tight against the cold, only to snap them open once more as he heard footsteps from the mouth of the alley. He reached into his jacket pocket, his numbed fingers wrapping around the hilt of his knife as he prepared to attack.

I Don’t Need Protection || Luke and Bucky

“There’s an abandoned place near the factory district…” He nodded. “I’ve been staying there off and on. I would be a good place for tonight.” He suggested. “There’s some blankets left from other squatters ‘case it gets cold and it’s near a grocery store, so there’s a lot of food that gets thrown out that is salvageable.” He shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s safe.”

That wasn’t exactly ideal, but it would do. Food, blankets and a roof over his head was all he could really ask for in a life like this. “Okay. Sounds good. I’ve got some cash so we could probably get some real food. Not stuff that’s been thrown away. Or a hot drink if it gets cold at night.” He wasn’t going to tell James how much money he had; he wasn’t that stupid. It was enough for a few days worth of meals for himself. Maybe a day or two worth of meals if he shared with James.

James nodded and pulled his hood up before leading the way out of the alley and down the street towards the factory district. He glanced over his shoulder a few times to make sure that the kid was coming, but they walked in silence until they reached the abandoned office building. In the lobby area was a broken vending machine that had been raided by other squatters. He lead them to a back room on the first floor where there were some blankets and a few battery powered lanterns. “Make yourself comfortable...”

#mcu rp #marvel rp #rp #new rp group

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scarletwitch-moved

Bucky. you’ve known me your entire life. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.. ♥

#who the hell is bucky?

I Don’t Need Protection || Luke and Bucky

James looked over his shoulder at the boy and hesitated for a moment. “No.” He replied simply, adjusting the worn duffel bag over his shoulder that held his few belongings. “But, I’ll be fine.” He assured the kid, his hair falling into his face a bit. “Take care, kiddo. Stay out of trouble.” He smiled a bit, just a slight tug of the corners of his mouth, and walked over to the mouth of the alley to walk past the kid. He hesitated when he reached the kid and looked him over, the same protective tug that brought him into the alley made him saying the next thing.

“…we should stick together. Two are better than one.” He suggested. “Look out for each other.”

andlukelorent:

It would have been so easy for him to just turn and leave after the man said his goodbye. He did consider it, but he having someone big and strong on his side was too appealing. So he stuck around until James reached the mouth of the alley. The problem was that he really didn’t know how to ask about what he was thinking. Luckily, James must have been thinking the same thing.

“Probably a good idea,” Luke said with a nod. “But, uh… the place I stay is just a youth shelter. So we’ll have to find somewhere else for tonight.”

“There’s an abandoned place near the factory district...” He nodded. “I’ve been staying there off and on. I would be a good place for tonight.” He suggested. “There’s some blankets left from other squatters ‘case it gets cold and it’s near a grocery store, so there’s a lot of food that gets thrown out that is salvageable.” He shrugged. “It’s not much, but it’s safe.”