#loyaltyworn

[hellceo]

What kind of treats do I get for Sam? What kind for Dean? I am just curious. And also. Sorry abt marking you for a warning label. But honestly. You do need one. So it’s kinda valid.

….or something. :D

sam

dean

[withoutawar]

@loyaltyworn​ the starter from hell

      He’s the first of his time to attempt travel between universes. He’s the reason they know such a thing exists, so it seems fitting. 

      His time --- this time --- starts after the infinity stones have been returned to their original places, as he had promised Bruce. It starts in 1945, the last link the tesseract remembers between itself and him, and it dumps him there, stranded, alive enough to be found in the sinking hull of the Valkyrie. This time starts, where his last one ended. 

      Tony Stark invents universe travel 75 years later. The mission had started with Howard, but he hadn’t lived long enough too see his son achieve it. Steve’s insistence that he achieve it . . . his desperation that he did . . . had died down over the years. His need to return home . . . and at the heart of it, his definition of home . . . had changed with time. 

      Steve is an old man. They’re not sure what caused the degradation of the serum --- whether it was the multiple time jumps through the quantum realm returning the stones or the tesseract throwing him out of his own reality into another. Steve figures he doesn’t need to live forever . . . just long enough to reach a certain point in time, in another universe. 

      By the time his conversation with Sam ends, the script taken out of an old tattered notebook he carries, filled with things like this that he needed to remember, things in this universe he needed to keep track of . . . Bucky is gone. Bruce points him in the right direction, deeper into the woods, and after a few minutes of stumbling, holding onto trees for support and trying not to trip over fallen twigs, Steve finds him by the river. 

      ‘ Hey, Buck. ’

[rgerza]

WEIGHT   SHIFTS   FROM   ONE   LEG   TO   THE   OTHER.   THEN   BACK   AGAIN.   shit.   right   here,   with   him,   he   feels   like   nothing   has   changed.   like   he   is   still   that   small   guy   –   big   eyes,   heart   pounding   in   his   chest   nervously   when   he   looks   back   at   him.   so   much   hope   right   there,   expressed   in   all   of   him:   his   posture,   the   shakiness   of   his   voice,   wet   palms   pressed   to   the   sides   of   his   body   to   hide   them   away   from   best   friend.   “   promise   ?   “   now   tall   man   chokes   out   ?   pathetic,   maybe,   how   desperate   he   is   for   him   to   stay.   to   be   with   him.   even   if   it   was   just   for   the   sake   of   them   not   getting   caught.   for   the   world   to   stay   blind   for   bucky   barnes.   

but   steve,   he   wasn’t   blind.   had   never   been.   he’d   always   admired   him,   always   loved   him.   in   more   ways   than   one.   in   a   different   way   than   best   friends   should   love   each   other.   the   art   of   swallowing   feelings,   keeping   quiet,   letting   other’s   have   their   turn   on   him   because   he   would   never   be   what   he   desired   ...   IT   ALL   HAD   BEEN   MASTERED.   he   had   long   learned   to   accept   that   this   was   the   closest   he’d   be   with   him.   “   because   ...   uhm   ...   “   explanation   for   desperation   is   sought.   “   ...   i   don’t   think   the   world   understand   what   happened.   not   yet.   we   should   ...   we   could   both   stay   here   for   a   while.   “   steven   suggests.   fck.   he   was   being   too   obvious.   but   it   was   so   hard   to   hide   the   same   feelings   still.   after   100   years   ...   steve   rogers   still   never   found   the   courage   to   tell   his   best   friend   what   he   really   felt   for   him.   

@loyaltyworn​   said:   “   don’t   worry,   i’m   staying   right   here.   “

[rxmlxw]

@loyaltyworn​: „ BRUSH “ FROM: SOFT MEME.          

                                        brock furrowed his eyebrows together as he settled the book aside he was reading and looked down on the asset , that just moved closer. there was a fond smile forming on his features , a rare vision for anyone who knew brock personally. he usually had his pokerface on all the time. no emotions , nothing , so people weren’t able to read him or even feared him in some ways. „ hey .. “ , he mumbled quietly , as his fingers found their way through the dark hair. it was getting too long and he would need to cut it anytime soon. at least that gave him some time like this , where he could be soft , where he didn’t have to mimic the hard handler and could act like the weapon was actual a human being without a punishment. „ you should actually get some rest. “ , he spoke quietly as he played with a strand of hair. „ i need to cut it soon. after the next mission. “

[shieldretired]

@loyaltyworn​ gets a starter for our thing 👀

                      IT'S A LITTLE DISORIENTING to get all your senses back after an intense art session. Steve lowers his brush and blinks at the canvas, which is thickly layered with paint. The view hurts all of a sudden; it brings memories of dark German forests during winter, of blood and dark crates left by bombs and shells. He puts the brush in a glass of water and turns away, only now noticing the pain in his knee after standing for -- Lord, really? He does a double-take at the clock -- 5 hours. His stomach starts to rumble too, so he guesses it's high time for a very late lunch or an early dinner. There's a noticeable limp when he leaves the Florida room that he turned into some sort of studio and goes to scrub his hands clean. His shirt is covered in colorful stains and spots, and he contemplates putting it in the washer when he hears Cookie jumping off the couch and walking to the front door. There he gives an audible woof.

                     "We'll take another walk, just wait a few minutes," Steve says as he pokes his head out of the bathroom to look at the dog. There is a dark figure visible behind the stained glass. Steve can't remember hearing the bell, but he tends to not really notice anything when he's doing art, so that doesn't have to say much. Or maybe the person wanting to visit him is too afraid of the barking dog to actually knock. Steve quickly walks to the front of the house, hand towel still in his hands, and orders Cookie aside, so he can open the door. "Sorry about the dog, he's really not----------" Then he just stops talking and stares, mouth still open and forming the first syllable of dangerous. He wonders if he's seeing things now. Maybe he is still painting and his mind just wandered elsewhere? He shuts his mouth with a click, then blinks. The towel hangs limply at his side. "Buck?"

[battletrio]

plotted starter for @loyaltyworn​

When the senator at the hearing had handed down the sentence of imprisonment at military prison, John had been too stunned to move. He couldn’t believe it. He had given them everything and they were about to take away more. He should have fought, he should have tried to escape, he certainly had the power to do so but the only thing on his mind at that point was Olivia. He turned to look at her shocked and grief-stricken face and tried to reach out to her but the military guards had congregated around him to take him away. He thought about fighting, but there were so many people here, Olivia was here. He couldn’t risk her getting hurt because of him. He let himself be pulled away by the guards, calling out to Olivia to tell her that it was okay. It had to be okay. He would see her again.

But he had no idea what would come next. They’d bundled him into a van and before he could even re-orient himself, they’d injected him with something and he blacked out. When he came to, he was strapped to a gurney in some sterile looking place. He couldn’t really understand, he was so tired and drowsy. He tried to pull himself free but he had little strength. Someone in a lab coat, he thinks, stood over him, said some words that John couldn’t really catch and then he felt himself burning like he was on fire and screamed before blacking out again. This process repeats so many times that John had no concept of time and its passage anymore. He was tired, he was in pain, he wanted to go home to Olivia.

Olivia wanted him to come home too. She had tried to see her husband at first, demanding visitation but she was denied with a litany of reasons that she was not buying. They were railroading her, preventing her from seeing her husband. Days became weeks, weeks became months. Olivia knew something was wrong and she was no idiot to think it didn’t have anything to do with the super soldier serum that her husband had taken. Yes she knew. John would never lie to her, he told her everything. And Olivia was sure the government has some designs on John because of the serum. She’s not oblivious to the things her country’s leaders were capable of on the path of seeking power.

Going to Bucky Barnes seems like an odd choice given the animosity between him and her husband, but Olivia had to believe that the man would at least care enough, just on basic kindness alone, to give her help. And he was her only hope. Every other person she had gone to, every favor she had called in, had told her they couldn’t do anything, that it was out of their hands, above their paygrade. She was desperate, it’s been 5 months now and no one can or want to give her any answers. She’s scared for John and this is the only option she has. She can tell the man is surprised by her presence, her showing up at his place unannounced, but Olivia forges forward.

“Sergeant Barnes, I’m Olivia Walker, I need your help. Please just hear me out.” She says quickly, fearing that he might close the door on her.

[pxis]

@loyaltyworn​​ sent:  [ COAX ] for scenario where receiver’s muse knows they’re the only one sender’s muse will let close. (steve)

        “ ... I’m not gonna hurt you . ” but he knows that , and Steve knows that he knows that . he can see the knowing look , beyond the feral glimmer set deep in those stormy blues . 

     the breath drawn into his lungs is raw and aching , but Steve doesn’t show the slightest hint of fear when he steps close to Bucky ( even though it isn’t Bucky , not right now , but he knows he’s there , somewhere deep down ) . he’s a little .. checked out , a little distant maybe . maybe he’s just deluding himself into thinking it . but Rogers doesn’t give two damns as he seats himself next to the longer haired man , and reaches his hand , carefully resting his fingers over the metal plates of an arm , taking his time with the touch , letting the other watch his every move . 

     “ no one else is gonna hurt you either right now , you know . and I know about as much medical as putting a bandaid on something . that was always your thing . ” he tries a smile , but it’s a little more strained . it had always been the other man patching him up , but he knows he can do the same for Bucky . “ so . are you gonna let me clean you up some ? because no offense , but you look like shit right now Barnes . ” it’s gentle , affectionate , and god his chest hurts . he wants to just hold the other , but he doesn’t want to push boundaries right now either .

[unexceptional-broken]

( @loyaltyworn​ ) « ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ  

               “I SAID... I said I’m giving you an out.” This wasn’t a conversation that anyone ever expected to have with their brother, but their lives had diverged away from anything typical so, so long ago. So could she be surprised? Could she really say that her own words shocked her in her giving permission, if he needed to, to walk away from this; from them? 

It just made sense, in her mind. So much had happened to both of them that ties of blood felt less integral. She had already buried him, after all. And he had had to fight tooth and nail to find HIMSELF again; if that didn’t include her, Becky could understand. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she could understand it. 

She had been gone for so long, even if it had only been a blink for her. Even if he didn’t even remember most of that time, she had to imagine that he didn’t feel like the same person who had swiped one of their Ma’s rags to fix her split lip before their parents saw. She supposed that the boy who had dragged a stay Stevie Rogers home when they had been kids felt like a lifetime that belonged to someone else. And if all that felt like it belonged to someone else, she didn’t want him to feel like he had to shoehorn her in just because of their name. She’d buried him, and then, she had died. To the world, she had been dead. And it didn’t make sense to her to pretend like they had to keep themselves lashed to each other if that wasn’t what he wanted, or what would make him feel better. 

That was what her life had become: healing people, right? She’d never planned to be a nurse; no, Becky had always figured she’d get a couple of years at the gallery in Manhattan as a secretary, and then she’d probably end up at some sort of textile factory on the sewing machines. She had always been good at sewing, had always made her clothes and his, kept them maintained so his hems were never ragged and his shirts never had tears for longer than a night. And then the war had come, and she’d started stitching wounds instead of clothes, and now, it was her whole life. So if what he needed in order to feel better was not this... that was what she wanted. Even if it wasn’t what she wanted at all. 

“I just mean...” Becky looked away, her brow furrowed in consternation and the discomfort of having to explain herself. “That you don’t have to feel... obligated. That if you’re just here because you think George Barnes would want you to... or a Jimmy who doesn’t even feel like you would want you to, that it’s okay if you don’t. I don’t wanna be a burden. I’d rather be a stranger than a burden.”