He Didn't Flinch, He Rarely Ever Did. Not When People Raised Their Voices, Not When They Started Flailing

the safehouse was the kind of place no one asked questions about. tucked between abandoned buildings on the outskirts of the city, it was forgotten. lost. much like them. the silence that stretched between them was tangible, the kind that felt as if it were leaving behind a sticky residue. his gaze—sharp, weary—never left her. pale blue scrutinizing the same truth he'd seen in the mirror splay out across her face.

❝ i’m afraid i had no choice in the matter. ❞

it was a familiar story and a familiar wound still bleeding beneath the surface. bucky leaned back slightly, flexing his fingers carefully, his expression neutral. then, after a long moment—maybe too long—he gave a slow nod.

❝ yeah, ❞ he murmured. ❝ i know. ❞ that was it. no absolution, no condemnation. just the weight of knowing what it was like to someone else's weapon. // @staticveil , altered carbon prompt .

he'd seen cold before, brooklyn in january, the hudson iced over, boots soaked through with slush, hands stuffed into too-thin coat pockets. but this wasn't just cold. it was something meaner. it gnawed at the edges of a man, not content to freeze him but intent on hollowing him out from the inside. his nose was already raw, bright and angry form the constant drag of his sleeve across it, and his fingers had gone stiff hours ago, turning a ruddy pink that throbbed beneath layers of blood and dirt. even the gloves he'd scrounged up from a dead german didn't do much more than hold the cold in place.

bucky's mouth twisted into something caught between a grin and a grimace. eugene looked about as good as bucky felt. eyes sunken, lashes rimmed with frost, lips cracked. red nose, red hands. dirt and blood both clinging to him like a second skin, and still, he managed to toss that dry wit like it was nothing heavier than a smirk. ❝ can't blame a guy for trying, ❞ he said, stepping in closer. the pews were gone. cots now lined the nave filled with the wounded, the sick, the dying. it stank of blood, sweat, and desperation.

❝ no morphine, just a bullet with a nazi's name on it . . . and this, ❞ he dug into his pocket, came up with a half-eaten bar of chocolate, and slapped it gently into the good doctor's palm. his fingers lingered a second longer than they needed to—maybe for warmth, maybe because he hadn't touched another human being that wasn't screaming in what felt like years. then bucky stepped back, squinting when eugene spoke around his cigarette and chattering teeth. in war, morphine made you the wealthiest man on the battlefield.

❝ i'll ask around and keep an eye out, ❞ bucky said, ❝ word is we'll be heading out before sunrise. maybe i'll get lucky. what else you need? ❞

nose is poised in the center of face, a bright shade of red, skin angry from the continual rub of sleeve to combat the persistent sniffling that lingers in a climate only growing colder. his hands are the same way, dusted with a shade of pink that cannot be avoided, darkened only by dirt and blood encrusted beneath nails and in cuticles. fingers are stiff as they work to roll scrapped sheets collected from the village nearby that had turned their church into a place for the wounded ... and while their supplies weren't much more generous than the dwindling stock of the other men, he wasn't one to complain.

besides, anything was better than nothing at this point; torn sheets, scrapped linens, medical supplies picked off surrendered germans - long as it did the job.

x ❚❙❘ how about a kiss before i go ?

❛ ah, sergeant barnes, 'fraid i'm all outta those. ❜ he shifts stare out toward @wintrb0rn from beneath the wide-mouthed brim of well-worn helmet. tired eyes & doe-lashes set idle on the other man as if he isn't damn near freezing and plenty in need of a good night's rest ( a good year's rest at this point ). the humor isn't lost on him, he welcomes it's chattering nature with a sort of fondness. when men were laughing, they sure as hell weren't screaming - a trade-off he'd give up damn near anything for all things considered. stained sleeve rises, it wraps tight in his fingers, hot breath blooms around the corners of mouth as he wipes at flesh before fingers move on to seeking the comfort of lucky strike poised behind ear.

❛ outta an awful lot of things, actually. ❜ cigarette roles between frigid figures; he hangs it betwixt lips, paper clamped lose between teeth. sure doesn't make him easier to understand, not that such seems to impede most of the men he works beside in making out what he's saying. ❛ you bring me some morphine, and maybe i'll find a spare. ❜

❝ you think i can't walk out of here right now? ❞ the soldier asked, a trace of a challenge woven into his voice. whatever power her bosses or their bosses' bosses thought they had was nothing more than wishful thinking. he'd taken apart more than a single police station with less. the only reason he was sitting in that interrogation room, the only reason he'd even stepped foot into the station was because he wanted to.

❝ oh? and who's they, huh? ❞ bucky asked, a humorless smile that was all teeth tugging at the corners of his mouth. he suspected she was good at her job, perhaps even an expert in her field, a shining star. but he'd come face to face with people like her over and over again. people who spoke beautifully, eloquently, who said all the right things in all the right ways. but there was always an angle. some agenda hidden inside all of the carefully interwoven hints and unspoken promises.

❝ and what's in it for you? you gonna share this information with me for what? need me to kill someone for you? destabilise a country? destroy an embassy? ❞ that humorless smile remained, as sharp as the curve of a knife, ❝ i don't work for anyone anymore. ❞

clea’s gaze remained steady,  neither pressuring nor retreating,  her words carefully measured.  she saw the quiet resolve in him — the winter soldier,  a man who had been honed by pain  &  time into something beyond ordinary human limits.  she wasn’t naive enough to think she could break him,   &  there was no need to try.  he was the one who had to decide if he wanted what she had to offer.   

her voice was soft,  like a gentle invitation,  but it carried weight — an offer he couldn’t ignore.  ❝no one is keeping you, ❞ she said,  her words almost soothing.  ❝but you’re already in a position where you don’t have full control,  even if you think you do.❞ she leaned forward slightly,  her expression unhurried,  as though she were discussing a simple fact of life.  ❝i’m not offering you shelter or protection.  i’m offering you information — things you need to know,  things they don’t want you to hear. ❞ she let that hang in the air for a moment,  watching him,  her eyes reflecting an understanding that was almost too knowing.  ❝you don’t have to trust me,  but you should know this: you can’t outrun what’s already hunting you.  not forever. ❞ she tilted her head slightly,  her voice lowering.  ❝i can help you avoid it.  or,  at the very least,  i can tell you how to fight back. ❞

im actually so tired of fixing other people's problems while my problems are like gnawing on my bones

HEADCANON : the howling commandos .

The Howling Commandos were an elite combat unit formed by the Western Allies during World War II, consisting of eight registered members. Led by Steve Rogers, the team was overseen by Colonel Chester Phillips and the USSR. Their primary mission was to dismantle Hydra, the rogue Nazi organization, through covert operations.

SERGEANT JAMES "BUCKY" BARNES : Romanian-American, 107th Infantry Regiment. Sergeant Barnes was the designated marksman for the Howling Commandos, as the US military had no snipers at the time. He trained with British and French snipers before being deployed and joining the Commandos. An expert mathematician and an exceptional marksman, Barnes quickly earned a reputation among both the Allied Forces and their enemies. His skills made him notorious, especially after his capture by Hydra during the Battle of Azzano. After being rescued, Barnes joined the Commandos, where his reputation as a deadly marksman only grew.

Barnes often operated as a “lone wolf,” excelling when working independently. He used his skills in camouflage, fieldcraft, map reading, and signaling to serve as the Commando team’s "hunter" when direct assault wasn’t an option. In larger operations, Barnes would cover the team’s retreat or work on the periphery of the battle, operating quietly in the shadows rather than in the thick of combat like Captain Rogers.

SERGEANT TIMOTHY "DUM DUM" DUGAN : American, Non-commissioned Officer, 107th Infantry Regiment. Dugan and Barnes had worked closely together prior to joining the Commandos. With more experience than Barnes, Dugan was a brilliant tactician, an expert marksman, and possessed Olympian-level strength. Known as the most stubborn of the Commandos, he was fiercely loyal and persistent in the face of adversity. Dugan could lift the morale of the team with his unwavering determination.

He later worked alongside Colonel Phillips, Agent Carter, and Captain Rogers to strategize for future operations. After Captain Rogers' death, Dugan assumed the role of field leader.

PRIVATE GABRIEL "GABE" JONES : African-American, 92nd Infantry Division. Private Jones, like all members of the Commandos, was an expert marksman. When Agent Carter wasn’t available, Jones also served as the team’s translator, fluent in English, German, and French. His skill in interrogation and negotiation, coupled with his reputation for a silver tongue, made him invaluable to the team. He often handled heavy artillery and played a central role in keeping the Commandos united, maintaining high spirits even in dire situations.

Jones was also one of the only Commandos with musical talent, and his songs were a source of comfort and camaraderie. Barnes and Jones met while both were held prisoner by Hydra, and Jones’ optimism helped keep the other prisoners from losing hope.

PRIVATE JAMES "JIM" MORITA : Japanese-American, US Army Nisei Squadron. Morita’s experience in the military was turbulent, given the government’s distrust of Japanese-Americans after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Though his family had been interned, Morita volunteered for service, torn between fighting for a country that didn’t seem to fight for him or his family.

He served as a scout, an expert marksman, and had extensive experience in anti-guerrilla jungle warfare, raids, ambushes, sabotage, and close-quarters combat. Morita’s intense focus and willingness to face battle head-on made him a reliable and formidable member of the Commandos. Though somewhat blunt, he was always the first to volunteer for a mission and remained steadfast regardless of the odds.

MAJOR JAMES "MONTY" FALSWORTH : British, 3rd Independent Parachute Brigade. Major Falsworth was one of the most experienced members of the Commandos, having served for nine years in the British Armed Forces. Despite his rank, he was known for his hands-on approach, earning the respect of those he led. His combat expertise, combined with his reputation as a brilliant tactician, made him a key member of raiding parties and operations.

Falsworth would later adopt the identity of the masked hero Union Jack, using his skills to fight against Hydra and the Nazis.

JAQUES "LIGHT" DERNIER : French Resistance. Before joining the Commandos, Dernier was a baker who became an explosives expert in the French Resistance, fighting against Nazi occupation. He wasn’t enlisted in the military prior to his recruitment by Steve Rogers. Dernier led a small band of resistance fighters and had been tasked with coordinating sabotage operations on transport and communication networks. He was captured by Hydra after attempting to warn the 107th about their approach.

Known for his animated and expressive communication style, Dernier often used wild hand gestures, loud exclamations, and honest expressions to make his points known, even though many of the Commandos didn’t understand French. Barnes eventually picked up some French while they were imprisoned together, but mostly learned insults and profanities until they were freed by Captain Rogers.

MARGARET "PEGGY" CARTER : British, MI5 Spy, French Resistance, and Agent of the USSR. Agent Carter was one of the most valuable assets of the Commandos, serving as their codebreaker, translator, communications specialist, investigator, and tactician. A true jack-of-all-trades, she had unparalleled skills in infiltrating and gathering intelligence, and her role as a field member was classified for much of her life.

Carter's contributions to the team were so significant that her active membership with the Commandos remained secret even after the unit was disbanded, and much of her involvement stayed classified, even after her death.

HOWARD "HOWIE" STARK : American, Adviser and Master Engineer. Like Jaques Dernier, Stark was one of the few civilian members of the Commandos. A genius inventor and engineer, Stark’s skills were invaluable throughout the war. Though he rarely saw front-line combat, his contributions included retrofitting weapons, uniforms, and supplies for the team. Stark’s piloting skills were also called upon on several occasions, and despite not serving in a military capacity, he was considered an integral member of the team by all the Commandos.

capmeme: eight quotes [2/8]

↳ "Is this a test?"

@whumpgifathon | Day #25: ALT PROMPT "Begging" Upgrade (2018)

he watched her as she studied him, expression unreadable, eyes sharp but not unkind. bucky couldn't be certain what it was that she saw when she looked at him but she looked at him like he had the answer to an unspoken question. maybe he did, and maybe he didn't. the blood at their feet was already beginning to set, thick and dark, and it would stay there for a while longer but eventually, it would disappear as all unclean things did.

bucky nodded, stepped past her and over the body, out of the shadows and into the cold, neon-lit street. he led the way out of the crime scene, keeping a casual pace and walking through side streets and back alleys as if it were second nature. they walked for a long time before his destination came into view.

the diner was nothing special—chrome-rimmed stools, and faded vinyl booths—it smelled like burnt coffee and cheap bacon grease, but bucky liked it for the same reason most people overlooked it: it was steady. real. a pocket of normal.

he slid into a booth near the window with a clear line of sight to the front and rear entrances. ❝ what d'you see? ❞ bucky asked when she joined him, nodding to their surroundings with an expectant glance.

kara exhaled slowly,  watching the blood spread into the cracks of the concrete like veins beneath fractured skin.  it would dry,  flake away,  be washed into the gutters until only the memory of it remained.  but the act — the choice — would linger,  another mark upon a soul already worn thin.  she had spent years telling herself that she was beyond redemption,  that the things she had done,  the things that had been done to her,  had calcified into something immovable.  but then bucky spoke,   &  the certainty wavered,  just slightly,  just enough to let in the smallest sliver of something else.  try.   

she turned her gaze to him,  searching for something she wasn’t sure she would recognize.  he knew — knew what it was to be made into something unrecognizable,  to wake up in the ruins of a life he could barely call his own.   &  yet,  he stood before her,  not unbroken,  but whole in a way she had never believed possible for herself.  if he could come back from it,  then maybe — maybe — she could too.  the thought was terrifying in its own way.  it was easier to be a blade,  a weapon with no need for softness,  no need for hope.  but hope,  she realized,  had already taken root the moment she had let him pull the gun from her hands.   

her fingers curled into fists,  then released.  there was no erasing what had been done,  no undoing the ghosts she carried,  but perhaps there was more than just this.  more than the endless cycle of blood  &  consequence.  when she spoke,  her voice was quiet,  but steady.  ❝then let’s start. ❞ not surrender,  not absolution — but a step.   &  for now,  that was enough. 

the engine ticks as he killed it, too loud in a place where things came to die. she was already halfway out the door, frustration wrapped around her like a second skin as she held her phone high in an effort to get cell service. it was futile, but bucky didn't mention it as he climbed out of the drivers seat. he stayed by the car, pale gaze sweeping their surroundings slowly.

the cornfield surroundings swayed slowly in the distance as he scanned the tree line, but there was nothing but silhouettes and the taste of rain. the place didn't have a name, and it hadn't shown on the GPS, let alone on any map he'd studied. he glanced back at her. maria wasn't wrong. friendly conversations really weren't his thing, but he didn't like the idea of her walking into the gas station alone. something about the town felt wrong. it felt like the kind of nowhere place that people disappeared into.

❝ so you can do the talking, ❞ bucky said as he shut the drivers side door and locked it. ❝ and i'll stock up on roadtrip junkfood. ❞ // @castlevowed , continued from here .