jane-buchanan-barnes asked: “You think I’m kidding. But I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”

“Prove it.”

light a match in the dark

reventum:

“What I know I am.” It was a growled counter, his expression darkening and growing increasingly defiant. It wasn’t up for debate - she could have her own image of him as much as she liked, it didn’t make it the truth. He was not the bright-eyed boy with a charming smile that could win a dame’s heart with a few choice words; he was the dead-eyed killer that people spoke of in whispers - a ghost story that wise people would run away from. Her challenge fanned the flames of rage and he practically snarled at the question, bristling visibly as he reacted to it almost viscerally. He didn’t know if it was her intention to provoke him but in the end it didn’t matter, it was working. “How dare you,” it came as a hiss, low and through bared teeth - the walls of the apartment, though made of strong stone, were paper thin when it came to noise. “How dare you try and compare yourself to me. I know exactly why I am alive and it’s all well and good you trying to preach,” he spat out the word as if it were acid, “but don’t you ever think that we are alike.”

His posture never really changed, still slightly hunched over and with his left angled largely away from her. The only difference really was now he was wound tight, like a spring close to breaking point. “Don’t talk to me about looking forward while the wolves still snap at my heels. I’ll stop looking over my shoulder when the people that want me dead - or worse - are dealt with.” They would never stop, but at least they would ease off. 

He physically flinched at her touch, right hand lifting to brush her off - not forcefully, but strong enough to get his point across. Touching was still a sore point for him, even from the most gentle of people. Even from Sarah. Recoiling away from her, Bucky backed into the empty space behind the couch and scuffed a hand through his hair in a vague attempt to shake up his thoughts into coherency; to dispel some of the pent-up rage that was mostly directed at himself rather than the woman opposite while he listened to her talk.

With a growl of frustration and a loud mechanical whine, anger took his left fist into the wall at speed. The cloud of dust as gloved metal buried itself wrist-deep through plaster and into the concrete cinder block cleared quickly and Bucky pulled his hand free with a single yank. Better the wall that could be repaired than anything else that was in proximity - it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d buried his fist into it after all. “I would like to know what Steve told you of me.” His voice then was a sharp contrast to the heat of before, cold and tempered as he brushed the concrete dust and rubble off his jacket and glove. “Of what warnings he gave, the tale he told.” So he could correct it. The least Bucky could give her was the brutal truth.

She had expected him to brush her off, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t something of a slap to the face. She was already pulling away by the time his right hand raised, his touch merely brushing against the very tip of her fingers. She let him pull away, put space between them – she needed it just as much right now. She was trying so hard not to let this get to her, but she still was human (and so was he, whatever he thought – his reaction proved just that), and at this point, watching him slam his fist into the wall, all she could do was focus on her own breathing, wordlessly, to keep it even, to keep her calm, lest her voice might tremble when she needs to speak again.

Somewhere, she knew his anger was not directed specifically at her; this was one of the many things Steve had said, that he was angry at the whole world, and rightfully so. But she was still the one here, the sole recipient (even if he decided to let the steam off on inanimate objects instead, for which she was probably lucky). She was the one who had to shoulder it. And for some reason, the sole knowledge of that gave her just a little bit more strength. Because, this wasn’t the first time she was weathering a storm for him, and as the comparison popped up in her mind, she felt some of her tension evaporate, though she did not quite dare to smile. Were Bucky to know what kind of thoughts were currently running through her mind, the fact that, of all things, she was comparing him silently to his father, he would’ve hated it. But she couldn’t help it: she looked at the solid hole in the wall, the furious curl of his lips, his palpable frustration and helplessness, and she remembered a man who did not think twice to raise his hands to her instead, who blamed her for problems caused by him, and all she could think was, you have no idea how good you still are. Bucky was incredibly hard, she could not dispute that. Hardened by everything he’d gone through to the point where he barely remembered he had, at one point, indeed possessed a soft side. But, just as Sarah had told him, that did not mean the past hadn’t happened at all. He could say whatever he wanted – she did not see malice in him where the recipient was not deserving of it, and that had always been her measure for a good man.

“I apologize,” she finally said. Without realizing, she’d wrapped her arms around herself somewhere along the way, but she couldn’t bring herself to unravel; it seemed that her honesty, the way she was letting her own guard down, only made him retreat further, so perhaps it was wiser to keep her distance, let him choose the pace. “Comparing myself to you was not my intention – I know I will likely never understand the extent of what you’ve been through.”

His request – demand, rather – gave her yet another pause. Steve had said a fair few things, indeed, though he had told her the very details were Bucky’s story to choose to share or withhold. He had assumed Bucky wouldn’t want her to know – and perhaps he was right, but Sarah had ruined that by coming here, and she was wondering now, whether Bucky thought he would prove something by trying to scare her. She couldn’t help the apprehension spreading in her; her lips tightened into a thin line, feeling like nothing she could say right now would be the correct response. There was the defiant part of her, that wished she could just say he trusted me to make up my own mind. But, really, Bucky had more than enough defiance and stubbornness for the both of them, and he had to know that he was one of the two people in the whole wide world for whom Sarah Rogers would give ground, time and again.

“He told me what was done to you during the war,” she started in a low voice, her gaze dropping away from him for a moment – but then it fixed itself on the hole, and then it was better to just keep looking at him. “The factory he found you at, the comrades you fought with then, your fall. He told me you were made to do things that were yours to tell or withhold.” There it was, what he was probably expecting; the admittance that she, from his point of view, didn’t know enough to make judgment. Never mind that she wasn’t making a judgment at all. “He told me of the things that involved him, though. The fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. The helicarrier.” Oddly enough, that word was still an odd one on her tongue, and she’d only ever seen one in a picture. “He said that, when you are given freedom to make your own choices, you make the right ones.”

(via reventum-archive)

comerpwithme:

STRANGE SENTENCE STARTERS —— for the creative writer in you. Send these in and see what your partner comes up with as a scenario!

*These are completely interchangeable, they’re just in categories to make it easier for all of y’all.

FOR AMIGOS;

• “How many times are you going to do that, exactly?”
• “You were right. As per usual.”
• “Sometimes it’s hard to see the lines you’ve drawn until you’ve crossed them.”
• “You’re surprised because you have a soft spot for hot blondes.”
• “Is that – that’s a naked Scarlett Johansson on your fridge.”
• “You can stay, but for no more than two nights.”
• “Please don’t look in this drawer. Please.”
• “I told you not to pick him up, he’s very sensitive.”
• “Yes. I might have given you rabies. But in my defense, that’s ridiculous and I didn’t.”
• “I’m sorry, my cell phone data coverage does not cover the bullshit zone you’re in.”
• “Hey! Give me your pants. Quick, give me your pants.”
• “No, I’m serious. Stop it right now or I won’t give you the last cookie.”
• “You think I’m kidding. But I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire life.”
• “How much would a stripper cost and why so much?”
• “I’m going to buy you a drink. Next week. On Thursday. When I get paid. Can you swing this one?”
• “Hippos are hungry, hungry! And you are considerably larger than a small piece of lettuce!”
• “When I was little, I used to be afraid of mummies. And now look at me. I love dead people!”
• “I don’t even miss my ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, I just miss my glockenspiel.”
• “It happens to everyone, you just sell your skirt for some coke.”
• “Please do not pull your pants down in front of baby Jesus.”
• “That’s not the phrasing you want to use.”
• “Because nothing says heterosexuality like a gold sash.”
• “Please don’t take it out on my boobs.”
• “When it gets really windy I look like a bizarre combination of Marilyn Monroe and Cousin It.”
• “We have to change our names and run away to Mexico. It’s the only way. Adios.”
• “How much money do you have on you?”
• “Please tell me that’s a raisin and not a tiny hamster shit you’re eating.”
• “Life is a lot better when you put things on your head.”
• “For someone who’s not very deep, I’m incredibly not shallow.”

FOR LOVERS;

• “I need you to remind me what it feels like to love you.”
• “I love you. What? No I don’t. Forget I said anything.”
• “I need you to tickle my feet but like, sexually.”
• “If we got married, would I have to take your last name? Or could we just make up a new one?”
• “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
• “I heard you say his/her name in your sleep last night. Want to explain or should I just leave?”
• “I want to spend the night with you tonight. But I also want to sleep on your side. And without you on the bed. So technically I just want your bed.”
• “Please don’t be proposing to me in an empty parking lot.”
• “Stop saying you’re sorry, you stupid fucking broken record. It’s done.”
• “I’m not jealous, I’m curious. About the things you were doing. With him/her. Without me.”
• “Your mother’s looks could kill. Actually, are you sure they haven’t before?”
• “If you’re breaking up with me tonight, can I at least eat first?”
• “Stop sweating. It’s not attractive during sex, and it’s not attractive now.”
• “Are you – are you checking me out? In the line for the confessional?”
• “We have to go. I might have told your mom I’m pregnant. I don’t know why I said that. I’m not.”
• “So what you’re saying it that you’re snorting sugar to get excited for sex.”
• “My dog licks better than you do.”
• “But through every stupid thing you do and say – and those are a lot, by the way – I love you.”
• “I don’t care if you’re growing another head. I’ll talk to both of them. I love you.”
• “And I’d take fifty years of not talking to you for just a day of doing so. I promise that’s a compliment.”
• “I don’t want to hide this anymore. I’m not some dirty little secret, you American Reject.”
• “This is a bit too dramatic for my taste, so can we skip it and have sex instead?”
• “I don’t want you to think of me as your personal sex toy.”
• “Thanks and all, but that makes me feel like a low-class escort, so.”
• “A kiss in exchange for every nice thing you say about me. Deal?”
• “Promise me you’re not like him/her. I need to hear it from your mouth. Promise me.”
• “Look, I’ve had my heart broken before. I’m not ready to let you in just yet. Anywhere.”
• “Don’t leave me here. Anywhere else, okay, but not here.”
• “I wish I could say that was the worst sex I ever had, but I’ve had worse.”
• “I just blew you. Could you look a little happier about it?”
• “I’m attracted to shiny things, so if it looks like I’m staring at your chest, it’s because I am.”

FOR TEXTERS;

• [text] This is upsetting my poop.
• [text] Hey, are you up? If you’re not, can you wake up? I need some help.
• [text] So it involves feces and large birds.
• [text] She said that to you? Why?
• [text] Please come back. I miss you.
• [text] What are you good for if you’re not gonna bring me ice cream?
• [text] Can you ignore that last text? It wasn’t meant for you. I’m sorry.
• [text] …did you just send me a nude?
• [text] FUCK OFF YOU ONE-EYED WHORE.
• [text] I don’t know why I said that.
• [text] Leave it to you to fuck the simplest of requests up.
• [text] Do we have to go to their wedding? He’s only my first cousin.
• [text] How much does ‘I love you’ mean to you?
• [text] I am not stalking you. But you should do something about your bathroom, it’s gross.
• [text] Please. I need this so badly.
• [text] I trust you completely.
• [text] I’m a genius. You’re a peasant. Everything makes sense again.
• [text] Hey, buddy! Got like, five hundred bucks I can borrow? Times ten.
• [text] She lost it. She completely lost it. She said her uterus was attacking her bone marrow.
• [text] I will not get you donuts.
• [text] Please? I love you.
• [text] I think I’m gonna go to sleep now, but you keep thinking that.
• [text] I can’t say this out loud. They might be listening.
• [text] I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t think he’d duck when the ball came at him, I’m sorry.
• [text] You’re cute.
• [text] I just need you to understand how important you are to me.
• [text] Fuck off.
• [text] Okay. Guess we’ll leave it at that then.

(via enthusiasticatheart-old)

sgtbarnacle:

Part of him is still terrified that she’ll run, as hypocritical as that is. What she asks of him, however, is perfectly possible. James has practise with it, has introduced himself to strangers at dance halls and held conversations on the metro. He watches her struggle with her chopsticks, already finished with his own, and allows a softer, warmer smile to capture his lips. The strain behind his sternum releases a bit more. They’ll be alright, at least for the next few minutes.

“Well,” he states, around a smile, and then a bite of food. “My name’s James Barnes. I’m a veteran. Lost my arm in the war.” To others, he would usually need to specify which one, but here he does not have to lie. “I was a POW for a short time, and then for…a long time.” Another bite, and James considers. Usually at this point people ask him what he’s done since.

“I’ve been working on trying to find myself,” he says. The words surprise him. They’re true, yes, but they’re also things he doesn’t tell other people. Around more rice, he tries again. “Don’t do much. Mostly read, work out, watch movies, catch up on the news. There’s a lot of news. I’m unemployed right now, but I stay plenty busy.” There, that was better.

While starting on her own food, Sarah finds that listening to him talk is not hard to do at all. He may or may not realize this consciously, but he does still have that charm he used to have, and even though she still counts herself as a different generation, she is not entirely immune, and not just because they are now a little closer in age – she wasn’t immune back when he was her son’s best friend. (Which he still is, but that’s beside the point.)

She tilts her head slightly when he says he was a prisoner of war. It makes her smile into her food, and she can only hope he doesn’t see it. Now, that would be a perfect way to put it, if it weren’t for the fact that he probably only says this to people who don’t know him, instead of actually believing it to be true himself.

She can also see the momentary surprise on his face, though her own expression doesn’t change, and it would be impossible to tell that she noticed. She wonders if that’s something he’s never said, and it makes her just the slightest bit selfishly happy. She allows herself to smile properly when he says there are a lot of news – that’s something she can agree with – and finds herself asking, without much thought, “Do you still dance?”

(via sgtbarnacle-archive-blog)

light a match in the dark

reventum:

While the young boy inside of him flinched and curled away from the gentle chastising and longed to apologize once again, the Soldier’s temper spiked and burned white hot from the frustration of a telling off that never seemed to arrive. And Bucky, caught in the middle of those two conflicting feelings and personalities, felt utterly numb under Sarah’s watchful eye. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness or understanding and, in his opinion, deserved the same amount of disdain as she’d shown James Murphy - if not more. But really, when she spoke of not being the grand jury he agreed. She was far more than that and her opinion truly mattered, even if he wanted to reject the kindness it showed. Let her shower her golden child with praise and affection; let her be proud of her actual son who helped save the world. Bucky didn’t feel worthy of recieving an ounce of what Steve should receive. That was how it was meant to be, anyway.

As much as he wanted to flinch before, he actually did when his title escaped her lips. It was such an ugly thing to come from her that it caused him to grimace and move away slighly. His gaze never really leaving the floor, he let out a soundless exhale and shook his head. “There really was no difference at one point.” It was a mutter, even if the truth was different now.

Wordlessly, he rose to his feet in one smooth movement and pulled Sarah up gentlywith him. Then he severed all contact and stepped back out of her reach, subconsciously keeping his left side away from her again. “If you know what I am,” a less-than-human killer, a weapon, a monster, “why did you come?” There was no heat in his voice and for a fleeting moment he dropped the mask and let her see the decades of wear - how desperately tired he was - before it was hidden behind an almost dead-eyed stare. “Wouldn’t your memories have been better left untarnished by the truth?”

Sarah had expected him to fight her, to fight what she was offering – but still, it made her feel sad. Sad wasn’t even a word that fully covered it; she felt a gaping ache for him, for everything he’d suffered that caused him to have this reaction to her, to the least malicious offering he’s probably ever received. She let him pull away when he wanted to; she’d never been one to force contact, to force anything physical, for that matter – but she couldn’t help the twitch to her lips as she saw him turn his right side towards her, as if unwilling to even let her see the left, so long as he could help it.

“What you think you are, you mean,” she said, and she didn’t even sound argumentative, yet the underlying meaning to her words was clear: that may be something we just won’t agree on. “You could ask yourself the same question, Bucky. Would you rather I stayed dead?” She tossed the question back to him almost carelessly, but there was a fierce look in her eyes that he knew well. All right, perhaps comparing them in such a way wasn’t entirely fair; it was plain that he viewed himself as something sinister, perhaps even plain wrong, and it was clear that he didn’t think of her in a similar light. Still, to her, the principle was no different. “I may not know why I’m alive, exactly, but I’m definitely not going to waste the precious time that was gifted to me with second-guessing every step I take, with constantly looking back over my shoulder. You ought to try to look forward every once in a while, too, lest you trip in your own feet.”

There was a momentary pause, and the defiant look in her eyes softened somewhat. He looked so tired, like he’d been carrying the weight of the world alone for decades; she wished that, even if she couldn’t take some of it from him, he would at least believe that she wasn’t going to add to the load. She couldn’t help but reach out again; she’d always been tactile, eager to back up her words with actions when she felt like she wasn’t finding the right thing to say – though he could easily pull away again, she hoped he wouldn’t, as her palm settled on his cheek. “Even if what you’re saying was true,” she said softly, “my memories would not be tarnished. I’m not weak like that, to let that happen. Everything I remember about you is truth, just as much as anything that happened afterwards; none of it will unhappen only because you think you’re somehow not worthy of those memories – which is stupid, because they’re just as much yours as they are mine. And if I came here just to condemn you for who you are right now, then I would be the unworthy one.”

(via reventum-archive)

duratum:

duratum:

open to mutuals.

     ”—am I supposed to know what that means?”

“You’re the one who gave it to me, a very long time ago.”

(via duratum-deactivated20201026)

light a match in the dark

reventum:

This whole thing would have been so much easier had he chosen to refuse her request to talk; had he even just refused to believe her despite the fact that those memories only belonged to both himself and the woman who was supposed to be dead. But he couldn’t deny overwhelming evidence, couldn’t dismiss Steve’s belief in this woman as wishful thinking because even though logic said it was impossible…there was no doubt that this was Sarah. That’s why it was hard for him to even look at her, why he didn’t want her touching that lifeless lump of metal on his left side; why he didn’t want her to see him like this. After everything that had been done to him, after everything he’d become - after all they had made him into - he could help but wish he’d simply remained a memory to her. Better believe him dead than known the truth. Not that he could change that now; that was the thing about the truth, it would always find a way to come out.

Bucky fought back the urge to recoil as he watched Sarah’s fingers curl over his own, trying and failing to fight off the uncontrollable shaking that just had to make an appearance when he didn’t want it to. It was like everything was working against him (no change there). “Love can’t absolve the things I’ve done.” And nor should it ever try. What was done can’t be undone, lives taken cannot be given back; scars are permanent, even if they can’t be seen. But Bucky didn’t want absolution from Sarah for that - no, his need for forgiveness wasn’t to do with the killing. It was for failing. 

Absently, a trembling thumb brushed over her fingers. His eyes were watching the movement but he wasn’t registering it, they were blank and out of focus. “I’m not a good man, Sarah.” Bucky’s voice was low, barely there as he slumped in on himself. It was a confession in and of itself; he wasn’t Steve, he was the polar opposite and despite what the woman opposite might remember or have been told by her son…there was no point in wearing rose-tinted glasses. “The blood I’ve spilt; the promises I’ve broken…” His biggest failure, his biggest regret. “I tried to kill him.” 

“I’m not trying to absolve you.” The words were probably heavier than they sounded, but they were true to their core. Sarah’s mouth pressed into a thin, almost firm line (though it was immensely difficult to be firm with Bucky when he was like this, it always had been). “To absolve you is just as much not my place as to judge you in any manner. This isn’t the grand jury,” she said, and the second half, I’m your mother, remained unsaid for obvious reasons. At this rate, she was probably never going to say it – but they both knew, anyway.

She watched his thumb brush over her fingers, and her hand squeezed into his a little before she would have caught herself. The bitter taste that had been gathering on her tongue for minutes now finally seemed to reach boiling point at the last sentence, and when she spoke again, her tone was stricter, a little more distant. “That’s quite enough of that. You think I don’t know already?” There were things Steve had had to tell her – he couldn’t let her be completely unprepared. Whatever Bucky thought now, Sarah was glad for this; she was not completely sure what she would have said if this was the first time she’d heard about the fight they’d had. Of course, Bucky now probably thought she was a bloody fool for accepting everything, but, from where she was looking at it all, there was the facts, and then there was perception. “You didn’t try to kill him – the Winter Soldier tried to kill Captain America. There is a difference, and all three of us know it.”

The two titles sounded utterly foreign from her lips, so much so, that she almost smiled, in spite of herself. She would probably never stop marveling over what his two boys had grown up to be. Contrary to their belief, it was not all mistakes and failings. And sooner or later, she would get it through both of their thick skulls, just how immensely proud she was of them.

(via reventum-archive)