the world breaks everyone

i’m not dead

so i’m attempting to make a return to Bucky because I miss playing him and I also miss rping. My life has kinda been hell the last couple years so it’s been hard to be active here, but I’m going to try to maintain a minimal presence at least.

rping on discord

I cannot manage multiple blogs with a lot of threads anymore, and have moved a lot of my rping to discord. I will still be doing threads on tumblr but I’m more active on discord. if you’d like to rp with me, hit me up at fluentinsarcasm#5257

characters i rp:

-Damon Salvatore (Vampire Diaries canon divergent) -Bucky Barnes (616, MCU, canon divergent) -Sam Winchester (Supernatural canon divergent) -Caroline Forbes (Vampire Diaries canon, only semi-active) -Rachel Collins (Council Witch book series canon, human verse, alt verses) -Itachi Uchiha (Naruto, alt verses to fit other fandoms) -Other characters possible, let’s just talk about it!

fandoms i know and rp in

@inthebrokenplaces​​​

Every year since the memorial was built, Stefan traveled to DC to pay his respects to his fellow soldiers. As time had gone on, the ache of loss had slowly started to subside, but never fully went away. Bonds were forged in battle, and even after all these years, he felt them as he looked at each name. Names of his friends.

It was Veteran’s Day and somehow Stefan had found a place away from all the people. He closed his eyes briefly, sending out…not a prayer, but some words to their spirits, whichever afterlife they had gone to. The vampire knew he wouldn’t be joining them in the same.

A man with brown hair and a hoodie walked up a few feet away. Normally, Stefan would write him off–except the man looked around, and he caught a look at his face. Stunned, he approached the man. “Excuse me,” he said, and when he looked at him, his suspicion was confirmed. There were a thousand years in those blue eyes and his hair was longer, his face tired, but it was definitely him. “Do I know you?” What the hell happened to you?

He didn’t know why he came here. It felt like a sacrilege, a desecration. These had been good men, had fought for what was right. Died for it. Maybe he’d been one of them once, but the last seventy years erased whatever he’d done in the war, a war that only came to him in flashes and a feeling of falling, falling, falling. But they had been his brothers once, hadn’t they? Shouldn’t he keep them in his memory, keep them and their sacrifices alive by bearing witness? So many were gone, and he couldn’t talk about it to Steve. Steve was a hero. Bucky was complicated at best, a nightmare at worst. 

The late winter-early spring breeze pulled at his skin, and he flexed his gloved hands inside his pockets. He never felt the cold. He was always cold. Another of his long list of contradictions. He watched for a long time, people laying wreathes, tourists taking pictures, the sound of the fountains soothing to him. He idly walked around the oval, probing his brain for memories of the Commandos, of who he’d been then. Could he ever reclaim that? Was he irreparably a machine?  When the man spoke to him, a jolt of memory hit him like an electric shock. Stefan Salvatore. He’d been an ambulance driver working with the 107th, but... he looked not a day older. That same youthful face. Those same haunted eyes. The same sense that he was being hunted by something. 

A multitude of impulses chased through him. Break his neck. Run. Speak Romanian. Laugh it off. Each one lost out to panic, though, and Bucky hunched his shoulders as if trying to fold in on himself as he started backing away. “No,” he said, his voice rough. “It’s a mistake, I’m not him.” 

❛ whatever it is you’re looking for … i’m not it. ❜

@inthebrokenplaces || The Punisher starters [ accepting ]

That was a rather odd reaction for not even having addressed the stranger. All she´d done was skim over the jungle of ad posters screaming in her face about special offers and discounts that today – and only today! – could be purchased. Her wandering gaze might have briefly touched him but to assume she was fully looking at him, let alone make himself out to be someone she actively searched for, was a bit of a stretch. Nothing Liv took offence in though; no one knew better than her how a bad day could mess with one´s head - making one jumpy, or even a bit paranoid.

A slow head shake and a quirked-up brow later she faced the stranger she´d been half turned away from while scouring the shelves for the items on her list, putting the basket down. “Actually, I was only lookin´ for a salesperson to help me find the right one from this absurd amount of screwdrivers. But… I didn´t see anyone for the past three aisles.” A laugh came. “So unless you wanna share your expertise on hardware with me… I´mma be on my way, lookin´.”

His brow knitted. She’d been looking at him, hadn’t she? He was sure of it. But then her reaction--Bucky shook his head. He’d been on the run so long he’d become hypersensitive to any kind of attention, but now he was inventing things, and that was dangerous. That kind of thing drew attention. He pulled his hat lower over his eyes and shoved his hands into his pockets. Eyeing the woman, he tried to decide which would better smooth this over, continuing to talk to her or simply leaving. He settled on the former. 

tony cleared his throat and ignored natasha looking directly at him with a smirk on her lips. oh he completely blamed her for everything that he was going through, but he tried to smile as if nothing was going on– as if his heart was pounding out of his chest. bucky was everything that he imagined sergeant barnes to be and more. sure, there were eyes under his bags and his hair was longer– and he was more withdrawn than the playful, flirty sergeant barnes of his aunt’s stories, but tony looked at him and could only consider himself fucked to relive his childhood. 

he wave the others away, “go find something shiny to look at,” he told them, shaking his head at them all as some slinked away. a few nodded at bucky, others just shrugged with indifference, whilst steve and natasha lingered, wanting to continue to watch what was going to happen. tony had to physically clench his fist against the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. he hated them all.

      “come on,” he murmured, putting on a big, paparazzi grin for the other man. “i’ll show you the common room floors first. are you hungry? thirsty?”

Memories of a small walk-up apartment flickered through Bucky’s mind, and he wasn’t sure if they were real, but they had the feeling of authenticity about them. He remembered sharing a room, a living room with cramped furniture and wanting to get away. That whole apartment could fit in one of the rooms of Tony’s place. It should’ve impressed him, but it just made him feel small. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried not to hunch over, folding in on himself, as he followed Tony.

“Um...” Clever response, Barnes. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Bourbon would be great,” he said with a half-smile. Not that it had any effect on him, but he thought he should say something, and the words just came out. “Thank you.” 

He studied Tony. There was something performative about his smile, and Bucky wondered if it were masking loathing. But he’d seen Tony on TV. The man spoke his mind. If he disliked something, he said it--in that smooth, sarcastic manner of his that could cut straight to the bone. Bucky cleared his throat and resisted the urge to fidget.

“I am always on Vogue’s best dressed list,” she said, a bright smile pulling at her lips, looking over at him. “Next I think I’m going to make wearing one of your shirts around trendy,” she joked.

Cooking together, lazy mornings, wandering around wrapped in bedsheets. It was the kind of future she’d dreamed about but not one she thought they’d have. Nat glanced over at him, his smile causing her own to spread across her face. Leaning over she kissed him again, one soft brush of her lips against his own. “A lazy day would be perfect,” she said, “so long as I get to spend it with you,” she said.

She stepped back, slicing the strawberries with a careful hand, “You know, I’ve been thinking. Since we did fight so hard to be here, and you know we’re so much happier when we’re together. Maybe … we should just bite the bullet and move in together.”

“Well, I was going to call the newspaper stand guy instead, but if you insist on spending it with me,” James teased, a grin on his face and his eyes twinkling. He closed the lid on the waffle iron and slid his arms around her waist, pressing soft kisses to her cheek and neck. Her proposition caught him by surprise, and he froze for a second. Move in together? Once upon a time, he’d dreamed of that--a home, a family, love. Not so long ago, it’d been a deadly daydream he’d indulged in about Natasha specifically, back when the thought of something like a home seemed so distant and impossible. He settled his chin on her shoulder.

Bucky choked on his coffee. He might’ve been stealing a few looks as Steve went through his look out, but he thought he’d been rather sneaky about it. Apparently not.