even the iron still fears the rot. @wntrsghost - Tumblr Blog

˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ an independent roleplay blog for BUCKY BARNES / / the winter soldier. curated from the marvel cinematic universe, personal headcanons, and comics ( ed brubaker run ). 21+ ONLY, selective, open universe, mutuals only. adored by CHERRY.

I'M GONNA REGRET THIS FOREVER.

promo. / / carrd. / / prompts. / / writing. / / inspo. / / james.

A STUDY IN: living in history, lingering in the past, "i was here. i'm alive. i exist. because i bleed.", rage and love and how they feel the same when they burn inside your chest, death begetting anger begetting death begetting, "it will have blood, they say, blood will always have blood.", and erasing ghosts from the mansions of the mind.

#pinned #mcu rp #indie mcu rp

james barnes :(((

#* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ both arms ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── cherry. ˎˊ˗#* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ ya gotov otvechat. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── inspo. ˎˊ˗

thedeadpoetsraven

𝑆𝑜 𝑤𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛, 𝑏𝑜𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡.

— F. Scott Fitzgerald

#on the nose i suppose #but very bucky #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ ya gotov otvechat. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── inspo. ˎˊ˗

002

the concept of james and his relationship with intimacy and touch post hydra is something very important to me and i try and incorporate it in a ton of my writing because the core of so much human connection is touch to some capacity. james carries his guilt as if its been burned into the very marrow of his bones. not only does it follow him everywhere but he sees a physical manifestation of it everyday. the metal of his arm is a reminder ( as if he could ever forget ) that is quite literally cauterized into his body. frankenstein's monster cannot see his own reflection without also seeing his maker in every stitch.

when it comes down to it, it is a sub-conscious and instinctual reaction to reach out with his left arm when acting on affection. there is so much bucky thinks he deserves and not one of them is tenderness. a silent form of self-flagellation that he never really recognizes that he's doing. the warmth of a lover's skin or the sensation of hair falling between fingers – all of it often self-denied on the grounds of unearned humanity. instinctive abnegation; nearly an attempt at reparations for souls that will never see the effort.

#me just rambling #have been talkin about this w people #needed to put it SOMEWHERE on my acc #bc i reference it often #also me a liar who lies apparently bc i said i wld work on writing today #and this is my first time opening my laptop like #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ i am the monster you made me. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── headcanons. ˎˊ˗

thinking abt bucky’s physical Brace in the winter soldier movie when they’re preparing to wipe his mind again and the machine is coming down, that almost shudder that goes through him !! ugh happy friday

#will write more tmrw hehe #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ both arms ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── cherry. ˎˊ˗

sherlock: [ WAIT ]: realizing the receiver is about to leave the room, the sender hastily reaches out and catches their wrist, preventing them from continuing their departure.

from here !

the swaying of the train car felt almost like dancing. a slow sway back and forth, predictable and comforting in its repetition. or maybe james was just lovesick and dizziness had a funny way of showing itself. sucking on a cigarette, he'd watched sherlock, locked in focus all evening, after spending the day wandering prague trailing after the long-legged man. it was a beautiful city james was disappointed to leave so soon – but truthfully he had spent every moment thinking of this: a quiet, private train car and the sight of candlelight flickering across the face of the younger.

james pressed what remained of his cigarette into the small ash tray and creaking limbs cracked in protest as he roused himself from the chair. the candlelight caught the twinkle of metal that shaped his left hand and he turned, without speaking, for the door.

the suddenness of the capture chased some of the inertia from his body and he turned to look back at the worried face of his lover. a slow smile sprawled over tired features and the old soldier shifted his weight to one leg. the years may have passed yet so much of the young, cocky soldier he'd once been remained. unfettered hand lifted, and the warmth of his flesh cradled the curve of sherlock's chin gently.

❝ only getting us more wine, love. ❞

the tip of his thumb followed a slow, indulgent path across the other's lips before pressing at the lesser.

❝ i'll only be a moment. ❞

a flash of a wink and he was suddenly 17 again flirting as easily as breathing. his hand lifted further still and he dragged the back of his fingers down against the smoothness of sherlock's cheek.

❝ unless you'll really miss me that much. ❞

#GODODOOD THEM !#sICKENING #burynot #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗

" when are you gonna start letting people look after you, huh? "

from here !

it was so rarely his own blood dripping from his hands that james always found it a pleasant subversion of expectation. ( he could still bleed – he was still human, despite it all ) shaking the drips of crimson from the tips of his fingers, he shook his head slowly as laughter split out of him like water from a cracked glass. the sound of a super soldier's broad frame collapsing into the rickety facade of a wooden chair was a noisy one: an offensive scrape across the floor.

❝ don't be ridiculous. it'll be gone soon enough. ❞

the effects of his serum were slow moving and less effective as its original, where captain america would be good as new in mere moments, the russian counterpart let the body suffer a bit longer. an ode to slavic melancholy. james soaked in it like an earned wash of guilt – whether he deserved this one he'd deserved plenty worse.

❝ don't tell me you're worrying about me. ❞

#listen it just makes more sense for him 2 be bloody ok #suredid #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗

linusbenjamin

True Detective 1.01 — The Long Bright Dark

#well bucky #yeah #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ ya gotov otvechat. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── inspo. ˎˊ˗#tw suicide mention #suicide mention tw

ended up having the most atrocious day at work so i’ll likely just be on discord tonight!! 🙂‍↕️ so sorry for everyone who is waiting on an answered prompt or reply from me! it’s coming i promise

#if u don’t have my discord feel free to askkkk #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ both arms ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── cherry. ˎˊ˗

thewinterclown

SEBASTIAN STAN ✧ BUCKY BARNES THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER, 2021 Episode Three — Power Broker

#literally mad as hell !#relax pretty boy #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ i still dream of violence. ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── bucky. ˎˊ˗

a church basement set up for a meeting.

from here !

it was hard to purge the smell of rot. a stench making the air thick and heavy: heady mildew and a the sting of metal that ran a little too close to the smell of blood.

the church suffocated on it: an oppressive sense pressing all around the old soldier the moment he stepped inside.

what was it they said about sinners in church?

their souls found each other in a matching essence of grief, captured in different shapes yet mirrored all the same. it was difficult to stomach such recognition at times: he could see it on the subway, in the men working at the docks, the women wandering the harbor… in the eyes of a god buried deep in the bowels of an old church basement. james tilted his head back into a rickety wooden pillar that seemed far too unstable to be assuming the entire responsibility of keeping the church upright.

subconsciously, his hand twitched toward the pocket where a crumpled pack of marlboro’s cheapest waited.

how long had he wandered? an untethered soul following the trail of a past that had long gone cold. digging through graves turning up only dust could only go on so long.

❝ well. this is quite the meeting place. ❞

james forced his hand to move away from his pocket. this place might be old but even smoking might be a bit too gauche. he’d been spitting the face of god long enough.

❝ hopin' i'll pray ? ❞

#OKAY !!#smacked this straight into my verse where its post winter solider and he's been wandering for some time #gathering his mind on his own..#idk i felt called to it #hope this is okay <33 #othunderous #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗

so i think i tend to come off a little avoidant bc i try and stay far away from the dash bc it zaps my energy like NO other,, but i want to get more interactions w my mutuals going!! i have prompts in mg inbox im working on but please like this and i’ll go through your tag and send in some prompts!!

#going on the dash and i just make myself sad EVERYTIME #SKFJFJJF #bonk!!#* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ both arms ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── cherry. ˎˊ˗

burynot

@wntrsghost : cont.

fairly easy to tell how old and unloved these books were. curious fingertips left imprints in layers of dust, dotted delicately along the spines and only allowing themselves at cover's corners. it was partly a shame, the other a quiet thrill no one else had held said knowledge in some time. a title for botany balanced in his palms; there'd been trouble at a local greenhouse, beloved flora tarnished by the hands of man. he retained his own knowledge, naturally, on the subject matter. it never hurt to look further. deep gaze all consumed, rudely interrupted by the sudden disruption in the sentence he'd parted.

sherlock could only stare at his now empty hand, james' words slowly cutting through concentration, whirlwind of thought. eyes flicked themselves to meet his, before he made a swipe at his choice like a cat to a bird. only to look foolish, his efforts for naught as the other broadened the distance between want for knowledge and it's source.

" rather childish, james. there are other ways to attain my attention other than thievery. " said he, all while making yet another reach with wiggling fingers. something about the way barnes was stretched out, taking up the space that made the aisle, intriguing and irritating. still, ordinary signals from body to mind were often nil, making it difficult to anticipate regular needs. a fair point, and question, to which he answered. " tea, this morning and an overripe peach. i'll have a proper lunch once you let me finish. " he promised, his hand now palm facing up, fingers bending in manner of quiet demand. " may i have the book back, please? "

wntrsghost

❝ i already know all the ways to get your attention, love. ❞ he chided in a boyish ( childish ) attempt at imitating the accent he loved so much. there was a glowing pride in his chest at the brief glimpse of a stunned expression on the younger’s features. quick reflexes kept the book away from grabbing hands of the boy wonder and james’s grin only grew. it lingered for only a moment until the younger’s answer settled into his mind and a slight frown tugged brows downward. ❝ an overripe peach — ❞

dark eyes lowered to the slope of an elegant wrist and long — beautiful fingers. for a n extended moment, all thoughts of the book and sherlock’s diet evaporated… all that took up his mind was their softness. beyond that the hypnotic pools of melting hazels that somehow got james to do anything they wanted. most times.

james’s hands were rough in comparison and they curled easily around the entirety of sherlock’s wrist as he raised easily to his feet, dragging the younger with him. ❝ absolutely not, my dear friend. ❞

sliding the book into his pocket, he walked them down the hall, free arm draped across the younger’s shoulders. ❝ this will come with us and will wait until we find you more than an overripe peach. ❞

#hes going MOM MODE !!#burynot #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗#q

a basement stacked with old boxes. - ahmya ( this could literally jsut be her basement and them being soft together during work. )

from here !

sprawled on the floor of the basement, he focused mainly on attempting to keep the ever growing stack of books from toppling over on the woman by his side. the rest of the space was consumed entirely by old boxes coated with dust and cobwebs from god-knows how many years ago.

a gossamer nest of webs clung to the soft lace of his lover’s dress and his arm extended to lovingly — and as carefully as artificial digits would allow — brush them from the intricate layers of her dress. ❝ do you think you're getting close to finding it? ❞ looking past her was easy from his height and he tilted his head curiously as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the box she dug through. ❝ maybe some tea? ❞

strong hands found the curve of slender waist, slipping up and over her frame in a way he knew she would only let him do — and thus he indulged in its every opportunity. guiding her slowly to face him, he dipped down to catch her mouth in a sweet, slow kiss. the scruff of a five o’clock shadow scraped lightly over her lesser lip as he chased another from her mouth before drawing back. ❝ the boxes will still be here when we get back. ❞

#viteoublies #THEY ARE SO PRECIOUS #I'M SO GLAD THEY R GETTING HAPPY MOMENTS #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗#q

a penthouse balcony overlooking the city at night.

from here !

the blackness of night had consumed the broad figure so much that by now he was little more than a shadow. even the dark pools of his eyes were lost to the world — trained, as they were, on the figure within the room. the soldier was accustomed to work like this: reconnaissance and making familiar with the darkness. but the target of his supervision was something else entirely. it was not blood he chased… but a hazy memory shrouded in layers he couldn’t break past.

she seemed to exist in a sliver of time he couldn't quite pry into yet — a space where all the scattered pieces of his memory could point in one direction— her elegant frame.

there was another figure in there with her: it seemed the list of people vying for her attention was boundless— he couldn’t blame them. the reflective surface of his metal arm, the only thing that could possibly give him away, was concealed by the thin black hoodie he wore draped over his broad body.

that and the cigarette he sparked to life. by now he was sure she knew he was there. it had become something of a game perhaps only played by him—

perhaps he only begged to be seen.

a dead man bargaining with the devil for a chance at life anew.

#THIS FREAK!!!#killerdame #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗

a prison visitation room divided by glass.

from here !

hair, once long, now hung around his face in jagged strands cut into a weak imitation of how he used to look when the world opened to him as a bright, open realm of possibility. he avoided the faded reflection of his own face in the pane and instead focused on the man behind its glass. ❝ you know, i didn't think a place like this could change a man like you . . . but you must be truly losing it now. ❞ he'd practiced that a dozen times before even getting in the car. he couldn't lose his nerve – he couldn't afford it now. it was an exaggeration anyway and they both knew it. it seemed there would be no place on earth where the baron would lose his grace and well-bred elegance.

❝ so are you going to tell me why you called me or was it just to look at me. ❞

james found a warm flicker of power in the reversal. how easy it was to become the caged man. shifting forward against the counter, he propped one elbow on the faded, chipped surface.

❝ or do you really just miss chasin' me around? ❞

#oh i missed them sm #dramatic boys..#brnzm #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗

sherlock: a library corner no one ever uses.

from here !

they’d been here so long the silence was beginning to grow teeth. bibliosmia was heavy in the air all around them and james had already spent the better part of an hour memorizing the way sherlock’s handsome features twisted in focus when he read something of particular interest. it was too easy to forget that sherlock holmes was truly just a boy despite all the wonder that came along with him.

rolling a toothpick lazily between pursed lips, james stretched his long legs out into the hallway – there was no danger of anyone tripping over him: it seemed the whole world had forgotten about this particular corner.

a heavy sigh dragged from his lungs, ❝ sherlock. ❞ head rolled to the side to find the lithe, familiar figure beside him. it felt impossible to look anywhere else sometimes. james let a few more seconds pass before reaching out to slide the book from the other’s hands in one swift movement. ❝ i said, when was the last time you ate something. ❞

#god THEM !!!#bucky b subtle pls #* ⸝⸝ ⋆ ⭒ ｡ ˗ˏˋ ✪ ˎˊ˗ my mercy prevails over my wrath ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── writing. ˎˊ˗#burynot

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even the iron still fears the rot.