#dsturbedstudios

@dsturbedstudios asked: " let's just get this over with . " - from bob

Bucky   looked   at   Bob   with   a   hardened   gaze,   the   kind   that   had   weathered   wars,   betrayals,   and   more   lives   lost   than   counted.   The   edge   in   the   voice   didn’t   surprise   him—Bob   always   walked   a   razor-thin   line   between   composure   and   catastrophe.   Still,   the   bluntness   of   it   scraped   at   something   in   Bucky.   He   adjusted   the   strap   of   his   tactical   harness,   metal   fingers   clinking   faintly   as   he   flexed   them.   “Yeah,”   he   muttered,   the   single   word   carrying   the   weight   of   weariness   and   a   steel-forged   sense   of   duty.   “Funny   how   things   always   come   down   to   just   ‘getting   it   over   with,’   huh?”

[  lean  ]  sender  leans  on  receiver - to kara from anya

It had been a hard day and as she looked up at Anya, the weight of their fight weighed on her. She should have been able to stop Bob. How was it that his powers could pull her in the way they did. She wasn't sure what to do or what to say but now, now they were a team and that was a whole other host of issues.

Kara's eyes followed Anya's as she sat down on the curb next to her and felt the weight of the young woman's head on her shoulder. Instinctually her arm went up and wrapped around her, protectively. "We're all gonna be alright."

Was she saying it for Anya or herself? Kara wasn't sure but it still bothered her that one of their team had the power to stop her. She could beat Void in a fight but the darkness... she'd have nightmares for weeks again and they'd finally started to abade. Her family coming together with James and Anya, RJ... even Yelena but now... now all she could see was her father's face as he turned her away from her home world.

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂  𝐑𝐏  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒  .  .  .  (  pt  3.  the  first  admission  ) ( ACCEPTING! )

her mind races and reels in this quiet aftermath. she replays it in her head, the words, the tone of his voice, the way he looks at her as if he somehow needs to explain why he'd say it. she shakes her head, but not against his confession; no. just against whatever voice is telling him he needs to justify it. but it's a number of things that happen together that cause her to feel overwhelmed. first the revelation. then the farewell. then the connection. and why does he need to leave? where is he going? he needs to stay here, just for a minute, just to talk, to sit and drink tea and understand what this whole new chapter means for them, because even if he doesn't know it, saying what he just said... that changes things. everything. every single act that exists between them.

" bucky. " her voice is a soft, hoarse whisper, her hands reaching out to try and take his. she's wanted to say it, of course. every time they went out on the road, or on a mission, or whenever he'd drop by to help her with some project or another. she felt the words uncurl on her tongue, desperate to be released, but she'd always stop short. always catch herself before she really made that first, irrevocable step across the invisible line. and now, they're here. she's holding his hands like they're the only sure thing left on this earth. he still looks as though he's just said the worst thing in the world. and she can think of so many, too many, things to say back. they're spilling over, a tidal wave of things left unsaid for far too long. and she wants to say all of them! but he's... leaving.

clearing memes || @dsturbedstudios

NERVOUS ? YEAH... MAYBE HE WAS NERVOUS ? Terrified, actually. But he had to keep it together. Keep. It. Fucking. Together. If Bucky noticed A-Train's nervousness, then did Homelander ? No, if Homelander had picked up on it, he would have said something by now. He would have LISTENED CLOSELY TO HOW A-TRAIN'S HEART was beating—one off-beat rise in its rhythm would have led to A-Train LYING DEAD at Homelander's feet. 

"It's nothing—don't... don’t worry about it." A-Train waved it off like it was no big deal, hoping to shield the two of them from Homelander's wrath. However, it seemed that Bucky was not one to TREMBLE AT THE SIGHT of Homelander. And has come face to face with Homelander, plenty of times before. In fact, Bucky seemed more irritated by their so-called leader of The Seven. 

Whispers among the team circulated about a POTENTIAL LEAK WITHIN VOUGHT, although no one seemed to know for sure. Sage had not revealed that she was familiar with the knowledge of who the leak was, but the glances she shot his way made his stomach twist and his heart race. He took a deep breath, glancing from side to side—should he tell Bucky? No, it would be better to stay quiet. Being the inside man, helping The Boys while secretly undermining Homelander was UNDENIABLY STRESSFUL. It felt like he was inviting danger into his life, the reaper himself knocking at his door. 

#Besties

@dsturbedstudios

Cerulean hues watch the sergeant for a moment, her eyes soft and gentle. She couldn't imagine the nightmares that plagued him or the horrors he'd gone through, and it would never be fair for her to even try. Her own traumas were nothing compared to what happened to the soldier that fell off the train...and frankly, she wasn't sure how he was still standing.

"You have every right to be," Karen responds softly. "And you have every right to be angry too...I guess it just further speaks to your character that you're not." She pauses for a moment, tucking a strand of blond behind her ear. "...I hope you know though, that you have people who care- who want to help you. You don't have to do all of this on your own."

The motel room is dim, lit only by the flickering neon sign bleeding in through threadbare curtains. Laura sits on the edge of the bed, her elbows on her knees, hands clenched tight. Her knuckles are pale. She can still smell blood...not hers...and it coats the inside of her skull like a film she can’t scrub clean.

She doesn’t flinch when the door creaks open behind her. She knows it’s him. She can feel him. Smell him. The quiet, steady presence she hasn’t decided if she wants close or far away.

“Don’t,” she says before he speaks. Her voice is sharp, quiet. Cracked around the edges. “Whatever you’re gonna say, just...don’t.”

She turns her head just enough to catch him in the corner of her eye. Her posture doesn’t shift. She stays still, rigid, like if she moves too much, she might come apart.

“You don’t get it, Barnes,” she murmurs, the name bitter on her tongue, not out of hatred, but familiarity. “I was made to kill. Not to be held. Not to be looked at like…” She doesn’t finish the sentence. The words taste wrong.

Her jaw clenches.