Latest Posts by wintrb0rn - Page 3

listened to boots on repeat for too long and now my brain is

the desert wind howled like a wounded thing, whipping sand against his face as he crouched at the edge of the excavation site. it was crawling with men, not mercenaries. not common grave robbers. trained, conditioned, battle hardened. hydra personnel moved differently than most professionals, there was always a cold lick of obsession, of mad superiority that stuck to them like a bad smell.

and that was when he saw her. a woman, dark curls, sharp brown eyes, and barely restrained contempt. a civilian, a hostage or prisoner, either way, she didn't belong there.

bucky was already moving, switching objectives quickly as he shattered the distance between himself and her, a shadow against the sand dunes he avoided the floodgate lights, skirting patroling guardsmen unseen and unnoticed. he reached her in seconds, crouched behind a half-buried obelisk and spoke in a whisper. ❝ don't react. ❞ he said as way of greeting, ❝ can you run? ❞ // @disasteregyptologist , semi - plotted starter .

❝ now that, i don't believe, ❞ bucky said. he'd never really had the eye of a creative, he couldn't write or draw or mold things into something new and extraordinary, creation had never been his wheelhouse. ❝ you should try it out again. ❞

bucky studied the abandoned library as it towered over them. worn and shabby, neglected by the city and easily overlooked in the endless repetition of the day to day. there were many like it scattered all over, foreclosed, forgotten, lost. ❝ then you might like the velveteen rabbit, ❞ he said.

for a moment he lingered outside, eyes flicking up the ruined façade of the library before settling on her silhouette in the doorway. the way she touched the metal—like it meant something—made his jaw tighten. he'd spent too many years breaking into places like this, never invited, never looking for anything as simple as a book.

❝ we gonna take bets on who finds the best reading material? ❞ he asked as he followed her. inside, the air was thick—paper dust, mildew, and the ghost of old knowledge left to decay. it smelt of wet wood and something faintly metallic.

kara let out a breath that was almost a laugh,  quiet  &  fleeting,  as if it had slipped past her defenses before she could stop it.  ❝i tried,❞ she admitted,  tilting her head slightly as they walked.  ❝nothing worth remembering. ❞ a lie,  maybe.  or maybe just a truth she hadn’t quite decided how to hold.  words had once come easily,  before they were twisted,  before she learned that even language could be taken,  repurposed,  rewritten until she could no longer trust the sound of her own voice.  but she liked the thought of it — him,  a soldier at war with the world,  holding onto stories like they might ground him.   

the library loomed ahead,  dark  &  forgotten,  waiting like a relic of another time.  she glanced at him then,  watching the way the past played behind his eyes,  flickering like old film,  something just out of reach.  ❝ tree grows in brooklyn,❞ she mused,  her voice softer now.  ❝that one makes sense.❞ a story about survival,  about finding something worth holding onto in a world that never made it easy.  ❝i always liked the ones about lost things, ❞ she admitted,  as if that,  too,  explained something.   

she hesitated at the door,  fingers brushing against worn metal before she pushed it open,  the scent of old paper  &  dust greeting them like an old friend.  ❝come on,❞ she said,  her voice lighter now,  an invitation rather than an instruction.  ❝let’s see if we can find something worth reading. ❞ there was something in the quiet of the place,  in the ease of conversation that had found its own rhythm between them,  that almost felt like a reprieve.  maybe even something close to peace. 

i just think bucky deserves the john wick treatment

he watched the scene unfold below, the flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the steel edges of the city. it was a familiar sight, one he'd seen in different lifetimes, different wars, in different cities. he should've felt something—satisfaction, maybe—but all he got was the dull ache of knowing it was never really enough.

bucky turned his focus to the woman beside him as she weighed the moment. he recognized that weight, the hunger to do more, to make it mean something. her words aren't unkind, but they were edged with the exhaustion of someone who couldn't remember why they were fighting, but kept fighting anyway.

❝ no, they don't, ❞ he agreed, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. he doesn't say what he's thinking—that soldiers don't mix with anything. not politics, not peace, not with the kind of life that doesn't have bloodstains on the edges.

he feels her question before she asks it. instinct, not obligation. a stocked medkit, a place to come down from the night, a moment to breathe. she's killed for the right reasons, but she still wanted to save something. ❝ nothing serious, ❞ he said, ❝ but i'm not saying no to the scotch. ❞

it's  all  bittersweet,  a  feeling  familiar  like  the  ache  from  fading  adrenaline.  VIOLENCE  WITH  A  JUSTIFIED  MEANS  TO  AN  END,  but  it  never  ends  ─  not  really.  sisyphus  and  a  boulder  actually  worth  something,  pissing  off  every  white  suit  that  holds  themselves  as  gods  but  never  lifts  a  finger  to  make  a  change.  reflection  caught  in  her  gaze,  the  swarm  of  humans  corralled  like  animals  finally  tasting  freedom  after  who  knows  how  long.  IT'S  NOT  ENOUGH,  SHE  WANTS  TO  DO  MORE.

she  was  never  meant  for  it.  soft  innards  of  a  poet  armoured  up  and  made  a  weapon.  ❛  soldiers  and  politics  don't  mix  anyway.  ❜  it's  a  spark  of  wryness  chuffed  out.  ❛  a  drink  sounds  perfect,  i  owe  you.  ❜  a  hollow  grin  holds  so  much  warmth  at  the  edges,  eyes  that  start  from  his  feet  and  assess  her  way  up  to  his  eyes.

❛  you  hurt?  ❜  that's  a  glimpse  of  true  nature.  the  reflex  of  wanting  to  do  more  good  than  all  the  wrongs  she's  ever  committed.  ❛  the  gym's  a  few  blocks  away  and  i  keep  a  full  stocked  medkit  with  a  side  of  scotch.  ❜

his pace didn't change, but he heard the shift in her tone—the careful attempt at something lighter, the way she tests the weight of conversation like someone checking for weak ground. he understood the instinct. the city moved around them, alive but distant, separate from them almost, but still, his mind catches on her question. did he like reading? before?

before is a loaded word. before the war? before hydra? before he'd become something other than himself. there's too much ground to cover, and he still wasn't entirely sure where he was supposed to land in it anymore. but he doesn't mind the question. it's not one people usually ask him.

❝ yeah. i did. ❞ he remembered that brooklyn in the '30's wasn't much for distractions when one was barely scraping by. books were an escape, something that didn't ask anything from you except time. he remembered carrying a copy of a tree falls in brooklyn while on the frontlines. ❝ life stories. coming of age. adventures. ❞

her smirk caught his eye, that teasing lilt in her voice pulled the corners of his mouth upward—just barely, but enough. ❝ i bet you wrote your own, ❞ he teased in return, ❝ none of the other poets could explain it like you. ❞

the city pressed in around them as they walked,  the night thick with the scent of rain on pavement,  the distant hum of traffic,  the whisper of wind through alleyways.  kara fell into step beside him,  hands tucked into her coat,  shoulders drawn inward against the cold.  the weight of their last words lingered,  heavy but not unbearable.  survival,  she had learned,  was rarely about victory — just endurance.   &  endurance was easier when silence did not demand to be filled.   

still,  she broke it.  ❝did you like reading?❞ her voice was quiet,  more observation than idle talk.  ❝before,  i mean. ❞ books had been her refuge,  history her constant.  the past never betrayed the way people did — it only revealed itself,  page by page.  she wondered if he had something like that,  something to tether him before the world made him a ghost of himself.   

she glanced sideways,  a smirk curling at the edge of her mouth.  ❝something tells me you weren’t the poetry type. ❞ a pause,  then something almost teasing,  almost warm.  ❝or maybe you were.  brooding soldier with a book of sonnets tucked into his jacket.  wouldn’t be the strangest thing i’ve seen. ❞ the corner of her mouth twitched,  the words easier,  lighter.  maybe not normal — but something close enough. 

they call him THE WINTER SOLDIER

he took in the sight of her, all sharp lines and lethal elegance, a predator carved from shadow and scarlet. the gleam of her sai caught in moonlight and neon, but she wasn't aiming to kill. not yet. he let the distance between them close, let her blade kiss his throat—just enough to break skin.

she's good, but he's been in the game too long to be caught unprepared. his own knife presses against her stomach, sharpened point cutting through fabric just enough to touch skin. ❝ don't start something you can't finish. ❞ he said, voice like gravel, words edged with something sharp and unrelenting.

he tipped his chin back, daring the scarlet assassin to make a move. to step in or out, to attack or defend, it mattered little to him. either she was a nuisance, or an obstacle, but he was prepared to go through her if he had to.

Something hadn't felt right from her peering through the shadows out the window of her hideout. A light reflecting onto the window in a way unexplainable based on what could easily be perceived by the surrounding sources.

Her target asleep. The assassin vanished from the safehouse to the mysterious glimmer reflecting on the window. Feet silent on the way up to the adjacent rooftop. Her sai spin silently in her hands in preparation for the threat she finds herself about to face.

The door opens in silence and Elektra's movements are swift. Eyeing her new target down, assessing his features and their surroundings. She knows of this man if a man is what he could be called. Could she even be called a woman in this state?

After her analysis, the assassin slips behind the soldier. Her sai points into his throat, lightly puncturing the skin near his windpipe. "I'd be careful of your next moves, Winter Soldier."

there was no undoing what had happened to them, the world or fate or simply the harsh reality, was that it would stay with them for as long as they lived. but there was a means to overcome it. to survive and live despite the violence, the pain, and the horror of it all. she wasn't too far gone to come back to something—someone—more. it was hopelessly optimistic to believe it, and bucky knew better than most that believing it was sometimes harder than even living it, but if he could do it, then so could she.

❝ all we can do is try, ❞ he said, with the same heavy quiet that had wrapped itself around her voice. try, fail, fail again. he wasn't saying that it would be easy, but then, nothing in either of their lives had ever been easy.

bucky holstered the weapon he'd taken from her in his waistband, casting one last glance at the dead man at their feet. blood had pooled around his corpse. ❝ time to go. ❞ he said, voice louder now, something like conviction laced into his words. ❝ i know how to start. ❞

the breath she took felt foreign,  like she had forgotten how to hold air in her lungs without bracing for the next strike.  the world had been sharp edges for so long — missions  &  orders,  blood  &  consequence — that the thought of something mundane felt almost laughable.  help someone with their bags? walk someone across the street? the absurdity of it settled in her chest like a stone,  heavy  &  unfamiliar.  she had spent so long being shaped into something unrecognizable,   &  now he was telling her to rebuild herself with the smallest,  gentlest things.   

she wanted to scoff,  to tell him she wasn’t built for kindness anymore,  that her hands only knew how to take,  how to destroy.  but she swallowed the words.  because she had seen it in him — something she had thought impossible.  the way his presence no longer carried the same weight as before,  how the ghosts still walked beside him but did not dictate his every step.   &  if he could be more than what they had made him,  then maybe — just maybe — she could too.   

her fingers curled,  then flexed,  as if testing the weight of an idea she had never dared to hold.  ❝ &  if it doesn’t work?❞  she asked,  voice barely above a whisper.  but beneath it,  buried in the quiet,  was the real question:  &  if i don’t deserve it?

im so ready for a nap

snowfall slicked the rooftops and turned the streets below into a dull smear of neon reflections and black ice. his target—allison daws, a former operative now in bed with the enemy—had hunkered down in hells kitchen, hoping to disappear. a standard job. he'd done it a hundred times, but something felt . . . wrong.

it was too quiet. no patrols, no sentries. just the low hum of a faulty streetlight and the distant wail of a siren that never got closer. the soldier stared down his scope, watching the safehouse window where the blinds had been pulled for movement. all it would take is for his target to pass by. one quick, clean shot and it would all be over.

a whisper of movement behind him, too smooth for a mercenary and too measured for a common killer. the soldier turned quickly, primed to defend. // @kenosky , a semi - plotted starter .

he pinched his lips together tightly, grim and final upon the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. yes, it was cruel, the cruelest part of what had been done to them was the aftermath. the trying and failing, and trying, and failing to piece some semblance of normalcy back together after being ravaged and having no one else to blame for it.

bucky didn't consider himself particularly spiritual, even with all the impossible things he had seen and experienced, but when their eyes met, something within him seemed to . . . connect. the same unknown thing reflected back, whole and seemingly so real it might as well have been tangible.

the corners of his mouth twitched into a bittersweet smile. he couldn't comfort her, he couldn't sooth her doubts or anxieties, and he couldn't heal her wounds but this—this he could do. the assurance that she wasn't alone, that there was someone who understood, who could share in the burden, who would not flinch or hide or placate with falsehoods. he wanted it to be enough. ❝ we take what we can get, ❞ bucky agreed.

the bittersweet smile lingered, softening at its edges as she mentioned a mostly abandoned library. the tension that had gathered around them as they spoke lightened as they shared their burden between them. ❝ i've got nowhere better to be. ❞ he stood, ❝ lead the way. ❞

kara closed her eyes for a moment,  exhaling through her nose,  as if she could push the weight of it from her chest.  it never worked.  the weight did not leave — it only settled differently,  shifting like sand,  filling spaces she hadn’t realized were hollow.  survival,  he called it,  but it did not feel like survival.  survival should have meant something more than this endless treading of water,  this constant recalibration of self,  this desperate attempt to define the edges of a person who had been reshaped too many times to recognize.  

she had spent years dissecting history,  unearthing lost truths from ruins,  believing that knowledge could illuminate the fractures in time.  but what of the fractures in herself? what of the moments lost to another’s will,  the choices stolen before they could ever be hers?  &  what of the things she had done in that space between will  &  coercion — things she could never quite convince herself weren’t,  on some level,  choices?  

she let out a quiet laugh,  humorless but not unkind,  the sound barely more than breath.  ❝isn’t that the cruelest part?❞ her voice was softer now,  frayed at the edges like something worn thin by time.  ❝that survival isn’t about winning.  it isn’t about answers.  it’s just waking up  &  carrying it again.   &  again.   &  again.❞ she had spent so long chasing resolution,  clinging to the belief that if she just found the right question,  the right truth,  the right name for what had been done to her,  it would make a difference.  that it would become something she could lock away in the archives of her mind,  catalogued  &  contained.  but there were no clean lines here,  no dates to mark the end of a war still waging beneath her skin. 

 &  yet,  when she lifted her gaze to his,  something shifted.  there was no judgment in his eyes,  no expectation — just the quiet understanding of someone who knew exactly what it was to live in the in-between.  the silence between them was not empty but full,  layered with something unspoken,  something almost gentle in its recognition.  her breath caught,  just for a moment,  before she softened,  her voice quieter now,  something raw threading through it.  ❝but if we have to carry it,❞ she murmured,  ❝then i suppose there are worse things than sharing the load.❞ it was a quiet offering of company in the places where ghosts still lingered.  maybe that was enough. 

❝there’s an old library a few miles from here,❞ she said after a pause,  the words careful,  deliberate.  ❝abandoned, mostly.❞ a beat,  then a faint,  fleeting flicker of something like wry amusement in her eyes.  ❝unless you have a better idea.❞

it was a strange thing, to see another walk so evenly in his own footsteps. he'd spent years hunting the remnants of hydra's survivors. going beyond just those that had controlled him, or those he had assisted in gaining power, influence, control. he'd had a list, ever growing, never ending, he'd soaked it in vengeance and justified it. it had taken him a long time to realise that it wasn't helping, that for every life he took, he'd only ever felt worse.

but maybe here, maybe now, he could at least help someone else reach that point earlier. she met his gaze and he held it. hoping she could find whatever it was she was searching for, beyond the memories of blood and violence, there was something else. not peace exactly, not comfort, but something that didn't feel like death warmed over.

❝ slowly. ❞ bucky said, ❝ small ways at first. mundane . . . boring. help someone with their bags. walk someone across the street. pay for someone's meal. ❞ anything that would remind her that she was flesh and blood and not a weapon primed to fire.

❝ eventually, it'll get easier. become more natural, and the people that need help will find you. ❞

kara stood frozen,  the weight of his words settling into the spaces she had tried to keep empty.  she had spent years chasing ghosts — her own,  the ones left in her wake,  the ones she had been made to create.   &  yet,  here was bucky,  telling her the truth she already knew but couldn’t bear to accept.  that the blood she spilled would never be enough to wash away what had been done to her.  that vengeance would never quiet the voice in her head whispering,  this isn’t justice.  this is just survival.   

her fingers twitched at her sides,  aching for something to hold onto.  for years,  her purpose had been defined for her,  her will overwritten.  now,  even free,  she found herself caught in the cycle of retribution,  mistaking action for atonement.  but bucky had seen through it.  he knew because he had lived it,  because he had been here before.   &  still,  he had found something beyond the nothingness.  she met his gaze,  searching for the place where his own ghosts ended  &  something else — something lighter,  something almost like hope — began.   

her throat was tight when she finally spoke.  ❝how?❞ it was barely a word,  just breath given shape.  but it was a question she had never allowed herself to ask before.  because wanting something beyond survival,  beyond punishment,  meant believing she still had a choice.   &  for the first time in longer than she could remember,  she wanted to believe him. 

the soldier's expression shifted, a hard edge to the way the corners of his mouth tightened as she gave voice to things he'd only ever kept in his head. he felt uncomfortably exposed, as if she were pulling things from his own head, kicking and screaming, into the dim light of the old bulb above their heads.

❝ you know that i do. ❞ he said. ❝ i go every day asking the same things you do. is this the real me, or is it the thing they made me into? will i ever know? is any of this real or is it a dream? did i really do those things? was it even me if i can't say for sure? ❞ there was no easy answer.

❝ if you play that game of what if's, you'll lose every time. ❞ bucky said with the same unconscious resignation reflected in her face. he had nothing to offer her. no answers or absolution, no wise teachings to cure her of her doubts. only the cold hard truth of survival. ❝ you learn to live with it. ❞ it wasn't what she wanted to hear, he knew, because he didn't want to hear it either. no one wanted to be told that they would have to live with the doubt the rest of their lives, that there was no digging it out, no killing it, only enduring.

❝ and if it gets too heavy . . . at least you're not carrying it alone. ❞ quite the pair they made. maybe if they stuck their broken pieces together they'd be able to make a whole and functional person.

the words landed with a weight that settled somewhere deep,  pressing against the places she had spent years trying to bury.  it would have been easier if he had argued,  if he had given her the sharp edge of disbelief,  something solid she could push back against.  but she knew better — he didn’t deal in false comforts.  he had no need for excuses,  & it seemed no interest in dressing wounds that would never fully close.  

kara exhaled slowly,  a breath that felt more like surrender than relief.  ❝then you know what it’s like to wake up  &  not be sure if the thoughts in your head are yours.  to second-guess every action,  every instinct,  because there’s always that whisper — maybe this isn’t me,  maybe this is what they left behind. ❞ her voice was steady,  but there was something beneath it,  something brittle.  ❝ &  the worst part? even when you fight your way back,  even when you know it’s over,  it never really is.  because what if they were right? what if it wasn’t all forced? what if — ❞ she stopped herself,  jaw tightening.  that was the thought she never spoke aloud.  the one that lingered in the quiet spaces,  in the dead hours of the night when there was no mission to focus on,  no objective to drown in.   

she looked at him then,  really looked,   &  she for a second it was as if she could see it — the same question buried in the sharp lines of his face,  the tension in his shoulders.  like he understood.  not in theory,  not in sympathy,  but in a way that only someone who had lived it could.  ❝so tell me, ❞ she said,  quieter now,  but no less steady.  ❝what do you do with it? the knowing? the weight of it? because i’ve read every philosophy,  every myth,  every self-help book,   &  none of them have an answer that doesn’t feel like a lie. ❞

❝ it never does, ❞ he said. he had been here before. the emptiness, the obsessive need to set the world right, to avenge himself and all those he'd been forced to hurt, forced to kill. but there was no setting it right, no making things the way they had been before. there was just this : the dissatisfaction of a trigger pulled and that hollow nothing only growing wider.

he ached at seeing that same emptiness reflected back at him. wished he could take it all into himself, unburden her of the injustice and wipe her slate clean again. but that was only his ego talking. tell me it gets easier, the words dug the knife deeper. no sooner had she said it, kara tried quickly to deflect it. cover up the moment of vulnerability with the carefully trained operative leaping from one objective to the other.

bucky stopped her, gloved hand raised to keep her where she was. standing over a body, standing in front of possibly the only man left who could understand what she was going through. ❝ but it does get easier, ❞ he said, expression hard as he tried to reach out, tried to be more than the ghost hydra had made of him. ❝ but not like this. stopping people like him, it's easy . . . but it's not enough. we need to . . . help people. make it so their faces are clearer than the ones we hurt. ❞

the weight in her hands was gone,  but it hadn’t left her.  the cold press of metal had burned itself into her skin,  into her bones,  just another ghost among the many she carried.  the body slumped against the wall wasn’t the first,  wouldn’t be the last,   &  yet — for a fleeting second — she had let herself believe this one might mean something.  that this act might carve out a sliver of silence in the relentless noise of her mind.  but there was no quiet.  just the same gnawing emptiness.  ❝it should have felt like justice, ❞ she murmured,  voice devoid of triumph.  ❝but it doesn’t feel like anything at all. ❞

she exhaled,  slow  &  measured,  as if she could breathe the moment away.  the tremor in her fingers betrayed her,  though not from fear.  fear had been stripped from her long ago,  torn out  &  rewritten into something colder.  something sharp.   &  yet,  as her gaze flickered to bucky’s outstretched hand,  to the space where the gun had been,  she felt the weight of his silence.  heavy.  understanding.  like he had already seen the road she was walking  &  knew exactly where it led.  ❝tell me it gets easier,❞ she said,  though she already knew the answer.   

but she wasn’t ready to acknowledge that.  not yet.  instead,  she let her hands fall to her sides,  fingers curling into fists as she looked away.  the blood on the concrete would dry.  the body would be removed.   &  she would keep moving forward because there was no other choice.  ❝let’s go, ❞ she said finally,  voice quiet,  resolute.  ❝before i start thinking about it too much. ❞

capmeme: eight quotes [2/8]

↳ "Is this a test?"

I will get up again. And again. And again.

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 .

the body slumped against the wall, a smear of red streaking down cracked concrete while the sound of the gunshot rang in his ears. he watched her, silent, the dim light catching the steel of his arm as he stepped forward. her grip on the gun was tight—too tight. knuckles white, hands shaking, but not from fear. from something colder. something deeper.

❝ i thought it would give me a moment of peace. ❞

bucky clenched his jaw together tightly and reached out, slow, deliberate. his fingers brushed the side of the weapon, testing for resistance, and then he pried the gun from her hands. ❝ it's done. ❞ he said, because what else was there? he'd been where she was, he'd done what she'd done ten times over and even now, knowing what he knew, he'd do it again. // @staticveil , altered carbon prompts .

the city skyline loomed like a jagged promise against the night. towers rising in stark defiance to the darkness, splayed in neon and halogen lights. the unlikely pair had a clear line of sight overlooking the flashing red and blue lights and crowd of uniformed officers that poured in and out of the warehouse below. what was left of the trafficking ring—those that could still walk at least—were escorted into armored vans in cuffs.

❝  sometimes, complexity can be exhausting. ❞

she wasn't wrong. he'd been chasing down a missing persons lead, a reasonably mundane operation that had quickly turned into something else when their paths had crossed. but the exhaustion that filled her voice ran deeper than a random night of vigilante justice.

❝  so simplify it. ❞ bucky said, as if life was that easy. ❝ forget the politics, the debts. just focus on the job . . . and maybe a drink after. ❞ he added as an afterthought. // @waruins , altered carbon prompt .

[π] person of interest quarantine rewatch ➥ 1x04 cura te ipsum

altered carbon sentence starters. episode one && two.  feel free to change pronouns and details if necessary !! 

❝  don’t trust anything. ❞

❝  let experience wash over you. ❞

❝  expect nothing. only then can you be prepared for anything. ❞

❝  who cares? we’re getting paid. ❞

❝  have you always been such an asshole? ❞

❝  the only way you’ll learn is by watching, so watch. ❞

❝  you’ll be fine. ❞

❝  i think i’m gonna be sick. ❞

❝  what the fuck?  is that normal? ❞

❝  you almost fucking killed me, man. ❞

❝  make them remember. ❞

❝  you had to go be a dick. ❞ 

❝  some people just need killing. ❞ 

❝  that’s a little vague. ❞ 

❝  where did you get this? ❞ 

❝  some things can’t be bought. ❞ 

❝  no one has that kind of power. ❞

❝  stop obsessing. ❞ 

❝  there’s nothing to be afraid of. ❞ 

❝  who’s fucking afraid? i’m not afraid. ❞ 

❝  i need to show you something. ❞ 

❝  what’s your excuse? ❞ 

❝  are you a moron or just an asshole? ❞ 

❝  i just want one thing to go right today. ❞ 

❝  you know. it’s… it’s about the details. ❞ 

❝  people like you are still stupid. ❞ 

❝  i was wrong about you, [name]. ❞ 

❝  i don’t know how to be in this world without you. ❞

❝  there’s more here than you’re willing to see. ❞

❝  never. you hear me? not ever. ❞

❝  no matter how tranquil the world seems, peace doesn’t last long. ❞

❝  she’s not our problem. ❞

❝  war is the only thing we really understand. ❞

❝  ah, for fuck’s sake. ❞

❝  that’s disappointing. ❞

❝  let me know if [name] goes anywhere. ❞

❝  don’t thank me. just stop. ❞

❝  i’m sure he’ll understand. ❞

❝  how tasteful. ❞

❝  you want answers, they come with questions attached. ❞

❝  all this trust is just making me tear up. ❞

❝  don’t threaten me again. ❞

❝  they’re not like us, [name]. ❞

❝  i was worried. ❞

❝   sooner or later, somebody’s gonna have to tell her the truth. ❞

❝  i’ll never see her again, not even to say goodbye. ❞

❝  do you know what that’s like? ❞

❝  violence is almost always, in one way or another, personal. ❞

❝  well, you didn’t answer. ❞

❝  i got drunk to celebrate. ❞

❝  technology advances. but humans don’t. ❞

❝  what the hell is wrong with you? ❞

❝  you gotta get out more, [name]. ❞

❝  you’re just gonna leave? ❞

❝  i thought it would give me a moment of peace. ❞

❝  i should’ve known better. ❞

❝  you’re not supposed to have that. ❞

❝  me and [name] have been best friend forever. ❞

❝  i’m devastated. ❞

❝  you’re better off alone. ❞

❝  this is my place. i’m staying. ❞

❝  if it was me, what would you do? ❞ 

❝  you’re worth more than that. ❞ 

❝  you can’t possibly think i’m that stupid. ❞ 

❝  i’m too tired to do the paperwork. ❞ 

❝  you wanna know why? because i’m capable of almost anything. ❞ 

❝  when i get there, i’ll let you know. ❞

❝  i’ll be right next to you. ❞

❝  how about, fuck no? ❞

❝  there’s someone waiting for you. ❞

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

❝  sometimes, complexity can be exhausting. ❞ 

❝  you fascinate me. ❞ 

❝  you’re everything this world has lost. ❞ 

❝  why would i be nervous? ❞

❝  i’ve done terrible things. ❞

❝  please forgive me. ❞

❝  sometimes, surrender can be as savage as any attack. ❞

tag dump .

. ic . › about .

. ic . › aesthetics .

. connection . › ava starr .

. connection . › rebecca barnes-proctor .

tag dump .

.     connection .     ›     scott lang .

.     connection .     ›     james rhodes .

.     connection .     ›     wanda maximoff .

.     connection .     ›     vision .

.     connection .     ›     sharon carter .

.     connection .     ›     tony stark .

.     connection .     ›     sarah wilson .

.     connection .     ›     yelena belova .

.     connection .     ›     alexei shostakov .

tag dump .

.     connection .     ›     natasha romanoff .

.     connection .     ›     clint barton .

.     connection .     ›     bruce banner .

.     connection .     ›     howard stark .

.     connection .     ›     thor odinson .

.     connection .     ›     the howling commandos .

.     connection .     ›     peggy carter .

.     connection .     ›     allies .

.     connection .     ›     enemies .

tag dump .

.     ic .     ›     wardrobe .

.     ic .     ›     ships .

.     ooc .     ›     back on my bullshit .

.     ooc .     ›     psa .

.     ooc .     ›     resources .

.     ooc .     ›     my  creations .

. ic . › musings .

.     connection .     ›     steve rogers .

.     connection .     ›     sam wilson .

tag dump .

.     interaction .     ›     gifts .

.     face claim .     ›     b . barnes .

.     ic .     ›     headcanon .

.     connection .     ›     npcs .

.     prompt .     ›     dash games .

.     ic .     ›     meta .

.     ic .     ›     character study .

.     ic .     ›     skills .

.     ooc .     ›     music .

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.

                 CARRD PROMPTS HEADCANONS

#WINTRB0RN : BARNES , B.UCKY . independent  b.ucky  b.arnes  roleplay  account,  mcu  based  / 616  inspiration, before interacting please read divergences page here . formerly found at @ghststry & @rprgrmmd-a ( lost login details ) . dead dove, do not eat . h.ydra t.rash p.arty dni .