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[messicamorena]

Our ending, will be nothing but tragedy.

[messicamorena]

loveee it

1am

[messicamorena]

Yasss

How Infinity War is gonna be. 

Rockets gonna spend the whole movie convincing people he needs Bucky’s arm for a “plan”

Edit: Holy shit I didn’t think it would get that many notes

[messicamorena]

Hermione's Romanian vacation

Hermione loved Bucharest, she decided. She loved the architecture and the black swans in the beautiful public parks. She loved the markets and the people and the air. Though Charlie dwelled in the more isolated regions—lest the dragons become truly unwelcome guests—she imagined that if his town was as lovely as the capital that she would also have stayed in the hidden treasure.

She took another sip of her coffee as she took to people watching. Her favorite neighbor was also at the café picking up food to go. He never stayed long and always wore a cap and a heavy layer of jacket. His handsome face always held a moue of discontent but she never felt it to be mean. She wondered what he was doing in Romania in an unassuming neighborhood. He spoke Romanian well and seemed to blend seamlessly into the environment but occasionally he slipped—the hint of an accent, an outright curse in English, and just the manner of his demeanor all indicated that he was foreign like her.

He glanced at her direction and she let their eyes meet. She smiled warmly at him and saluted her coffee as a hello. His gaze was stony but he nodded at her briefly. He always caught her when she stared. She was embarrassed initially, introducing herself in a mix of Romanian and English. He merely nodded and offered no name. As she continued to watch him over the weeks of her trip she noticed other distinct details—alert, shifting eyes and a disconnection from the environment. This man was a man on the run.

Some years ago she had finished rounding up all the former Death Eaters and Voldemort followers. Ron and Harry had joined the Auror corps with a sense of vigor but Hermione had done so out of duty. She wanted to wait until they were all captured before she brought her parents back. More importantly, she wanted to make sure Ron and Harry developed the critical thinking and sharp minds that would be necessary for their choice of career. She had let them depend on her during the Horcrux search, but she needed to know they would be prepared for when she inevitably left. Seven years since the end of the war and she had finally retired—Ron and Harry were competent enough that she could trust them to at least ensure the other would be fine.

Meanwhile Hermione took the time to travel. She had already been to France to visit Bill and Fleur and had just moved east to Romania to visit Charlie. Eventually, she planned to end in Australia to retrieve her parents. The trip was meant as a way to rekindle her investment in searching for a new career but all it did was serve to rekindle her Auror curiosity—especially for her wayward soldier.

Oh she could tell. His walk, his mannerisms, his taut posture—he was a man prepared to attack and prepared to be attacked. She didn’t stalk him knowingly—he really was her neighbor after all—but she met his acquaintance every day. Serendipity, she believed. She doubted he believed it. Despite his stony gaze and soft nod of acknowledgement she felt the measuring in his eyes, wondering if she was friend or foe. She was glad she hadn’t spooked him.

Hermione returned to her home and popped on the tele. She scoffed at the Sokovia accords signing taking place. She agreed in some part—accountability was important—but she despised the tracking, the biometric data, the rating. What would they do with that data, she wondered. Scarlet Witch—who was not actually a witch, as Hermione knew—had her DNA altered. Captain America had had his own biometrics experimented on. How many other in the world were there that they considered enhanced? What would they do to the witches and wizards they caught? As a member of the Order of the Phoenix it would be hypocritical to truly support the accords—she knew how failing the government could be. The television captured screams and Hermione looked up before the live broadcasting cut out. A bombing, Hermione realized. She sighed before turning the device off. No matter how things change they always seem to stay the same. What luck she had to live through one war only to experience the aliens and enhanced humans that seemed to occur immediately after. Voldemort seemed a lot less frightening when she compared him to the tales of New York.

Hermione spent the rest of the day wandering the city as she was wont to do. The news immediately covered the attack and placed the blame on the Winter Soldier. Hermione wondered who named him. It was a catchy name, she admitted, but if he was such a covert assassin—why would he have a name? Did someone survive and decide the moniker? Had the higher ups decided they want to inspire fear and prompted the title themselves? Did the Winter Soldier go around announcing his name like some of the terrible parodies of super heroes she had seen? Comparatively, it was probably a better name than the boy-who-lived or you-know-who or the brightest-witch-of-her-age. Hermione felt she could do without the hyphens.

The next morning was the market day and Hermione always loved to go early. She grabbed her reusable bags, dressed casually and set out for the day. She wasn’t surprised when the newspapers echoed the tragedy of the accords but she stopped to pick up the paper when she caught a familiar face. The Winter Soldier looked remarkably like her neighbor. She began translating the paper as best she could. The Winter Soldier was spotted in Vienna at a time when Hermione was sure she had seen her neighbor. The still of the video image captured the time of the Winter Soldier’s supposed presence in Vienna at the time Hermione had seen him at the café. Hermione rubbed her fingers against her temple feeling a rushing of emotions within her. Curiosity, indignation, righteousness. Oh her Gryffindor fury was rising like a tide and she wondered for the gazillinth time if Harry was the trouble magnet or was she.

She glanced up and noticed her neighbor, the Winter Soldier (supposedly), talking with Sebastian the plum man. Hermione sighed pitifully as her neighbor, the Winter Soldier (supposedly), bargained for plums. This was not who assassinated a King. Hermione tilted her head. Well, maybe he was someone who assassinated kings and politicians but he was certainly not one who was attempting to do it these days. She recognized his hollow stare as someone seeking some sort of peace or redemption or conclusion. He turned and spotted one of the newspapers baring his identity. At the tightness of his face and the increased pallor of his skin she knew that it was wrong and Hermione Granger did not like when things were wrong. With a grimace at the feeling of conviction in her stomach she took off to follow the man.

She walked with the newspaper up, holding her wand between the fold. Suddenly her ears were alert, her heart beat deceptively calm, her senses magnified. The spell she had cast had benefited her over the years in many ways. She had created it as another means to protect Ron and Harry when she finally left the dangerous career. She laughed at herself mentally—she would’ve been safer with them than what she was doing now. She cast again to take attention off her. She cast a third time to feel herself disillusion as she stepped between the shadows of the scenery.

Her neighbor ran up the stairs two at a time. Hermione stealthily followed noticing the police emerging from the shadows when their subject returned home. Hermione cursed to herself, sticking close enough that she wondered if her neighbor could feel her puffs of air each time she exhaled. He opened the door and closed it so quickly that Hermione could not enter. She heard the police force climbing the stairs and quickly spelled the locked door open, closing it quickly and silently behind her. Her neighbor was conversing with a man in the room—Captain America she recognized faintly.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.” Her neighbor said. Another voice from the Captain’s headpiece rang out.

“They’re entering the building.”

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now and they’re not planning on taking you alive.” The Captain responded. Her neighbor placed his plums down and slowly began to remove his glove. At the metal sheen, Hermione knew he was indeed the Winter Soldier.

“That’s smart. Good strategy.” The Winter Soldier said. Something about his expression made her heart clench.

“They’re on the roof. I’m compromised.” The headpiece said. The Winter Soldier must have understood as he began preparing for confrontation.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.” Captain America said with contained desperation.

“It always ends in a fight.” The Winter Soldier said and Hermione’s heart broke at his despondent tone and resignation.

“Five seconds.” The headpiece called and Hermione felt her heartrate increase. She was going to have to work on the fly.

“You pulled me from the river. Why?” Captain America asked and Hermione decided there was something much deeper going on that she had missed.

“I don’t know.” The Winter Soldier responded, but Hermione noticed the agony in his eyes.

“Three seconds.” The voice warned and her heartbeat increased.

“Yes you do.” Captain America ascertained and Hermione knew exactly what she was going to do.

“Breach! Breach! Breach!” The piercing sound of glass beckoned the first flashbang that was quickly swatted away. Her neighbor kicked another one to Captain America who went to use his shield to contain it. Hermione however had already yanked the Winter Soldier by his outstretched foot enough that she could grab Captain America. She apparated quickly in the uncomfortable position, barely avoiding the flashbang as she appeared within her own apartment.

She groaned as she landed on her stomach. Instantly, the Winter Soldier and Captain America were alert and prepared to face off. Hermione took her wand and hit both of them with a body-bind; they fell to the floor on their backs. Hermione waved her wand to take off her disillusionment and floated the two so they were vertical and could stare into her eyes.

“Good Morning.” She greeted cheerfully, wincing when she could somehow still make out the animosity in their eyes. “Yes, well introductions are in order. My neighbor and I have already met—though I don’t know his name—but my name is Hermione.” She introduced herself awkwardly. “You looked to be in some sort of pickle…so I brought you to my apartment where, frankly, no one will be able to find you.” She gestured around to the magical expanded complex apartment—courtesy of her brief studying into magical construction in France. “I mean you no harm and would appreciate it greatly if you neither ran nor attempted to fight on these premises.” She favored them with a look she always found effective on Ron and Harry. She waved her wand to start a pot of tea and turned to look at her window. The crowd was littered with police and their forces, she laughed lightly. “Oh dear, they seem a trifle bit confused that you two have suddenly disappeared.” She said over her shoulder towards the frozen men. When the kettle whistled she brought everything to her small kitchen table. She set the table and floated the men over.

“Now, let’s all sit and have a discussion over a nice cuppa, hmm?” She said as she sat. She released the men who immediately dropped into fighting stance. She pushed the tea cups towards them. “Tea, gentleman.” The two glanced at each other in shock before sitting awkwardly with her at the table. “Buck—was that your name?—I spotted you buying plums, you’re welcome to mine.” Hermione said as she pushed her fruit basket forward. Briefly she wondered if she had a thing for rescuing men with deer-related back stories.

“Ma’am, what happened?” Captain America asked first and Hermione picked up her tea to sip it. Neither of her guests were touching theirs.

“I apparated—er—teleported you two here because it seemed you were having a bit of a crisis.” Hermione answered with a smile. The two men shared a look.

“And you know Bucky?” Captain America asked. Hermione frowned briefly.

“Bucky not Buck? Hmm…not much better of a name, I suppose, but who am I to judge?” Hermione muttered to herself. “I’ve been living across the street for a few weeks and Bucky and I have been running into each other. He’s been rather put off at my attempts to be friendly but I suppose it makes sense.” She admitted with a frown.

“You know that he’s a wanted man?” Captain America asked and Bucky tensed beside him. Hermione frowned.

“I read about the Accords. Unless Bucky is a wizard, I find it highly unlikely that he is the culprit—I’ve seen him far too regularly for him to have accomplished something like this.” Hermione admitted. “Are you a wizard, Bucky?” She asked her neighbor who had remained silent through since he arrived.

“You were stalking me?” He asked roughly, eyes downcast.

“Purely coincidental, I assure you.” Hermione placated with raised hands. “I didn’t even know you were the Winter Soldier until the wanted ads.” Bucky tensed at the name and Hermione leveled him with a measured glance. “So are you a wizard, Bucky? Or do you just have a great deal of unfortunate luck?” She asked. Bucky still did not answer and instead crossed his arms over his chest definitely.

“Bucky has been framed.” Captain America said with authority. Hermione turned her gaze to him.

“What is Captain America doing trying to save the Winter Soldier, anyway?” Hermione asked.

“The real question is why did you take us here and what is your plan?” Captain America accused. Hermione shrugged.

“I’ll be honest, I probably had as much planning for this interaction as you did—and judging from what I saw at his apartment it was not much planning at all.” She reprimanded. “My plan was to go and grab Bucky here and take him somewhere safe. But then you two were having a heart-to-heart and the flashbangs came and I took us all here.” She explained.

“Why?” Bucky asked his tone still rough like he was constantly prepared to be defensive.

“You’re innocent, unless you are a wizard—which I doubt. I like to people watch and you were a fascinating person who I saw every day.” Hermione sipped her tea again as Bucky and Captain America contemplated her words.

“Why do you keep asking if he’s a wizard?” Captain America asked. Hermione contemplated. She figured in for a knut in for a galleon.

“I’m a witch.” Hermione announced. “Which must be kept to us, of course, but it’s the reason I could teleport you here from Bucky’s room. If he was a wizard he could do the same, but I highly doubt that he is.”

“He’s not a wizard.” Captain America answered. Hermione glanced at him in surprise.

“How would you know that, Captain America?” She asked genuinely intrigued by his confidence.

“We’re friends—I’d have known.” Captain America responded. Bucky bristled again and Hermione yelped when tea splashed from her cup to platter below.

“Friends?” Hermione asked as she glanced at Bucky. He seemed to be glaring death to her wall. “I suppose it’s a good thing I grabbed you then, Captain America.” Captain America sighed.

“Just call me Steve, please.” He said as he removed his cowl. Hermione felt herself flush. Captain America was an extremely fit gentleman.

“So…” Hermione began awkwardly. “What now?” Steve sighed and placed his hands in his head. She turned to Bucky.

“Bucky? Mind joining the conversation? We’re all seemingly vested in a positive outcome but you?” Hermione commented. Bucky stood up abruptly causing Steve to do the same.

“Bucky!” He exclaimed but Bucky was staring at Hermione.

“Why? Why are you doing this! You don’t know anything about me!” Bucky said angrily. Hermione sipped her tea languidly; she was used to boys with tempers.

“I don’t need to know you to know that something is wrong.” She commented idly. “When something is wrong, I want it to be right.” Bucky still seemed frustrated.

“I’ve killed people—innocent people!” He admitted fiercely. “I was an assassin! I could kill you in 50 different ways!”

“Bucky…” Steve said softly.

“I could kill you in more ways, I assure you.” Hermione announced. “But that’s neither here nor there.” Hermione said with a wave of her hand. “I recognize someone who did something they didn’t want to do. I can’t believe you didn’t have extenuating circumstances.”

“Bucky, you weren’t in control of your actions.” Steve rationalized. Bucky seemed to deflate.

“But I still did it.” Bucky said sadly. Hermione’s heart broke. Bucky seemed to be a tragedy and damn if Hermione didn’t gravitate towards the type.

“Would you trust me more if I knew what you did?” Hermione asked. Bucky looked at her strangely. “If I saw what you had done and still determined you were worthy of help?” Bucky closed in on himself, his posture shrinking as he sat back in his chair.

“Just let me run—you and Steve are just going to get in trouble.” Bucky sighed as he closed his eyes.

“I’m always in trouble.” Hermione announced glancing at Steve. “I imagine he is too.” Hermione said and Steve nodded. Hermione sighed. “Fine, no one wants to drink my tea or eat my plums, let’s move to the study.” Hermione stood and ushered her two guests to follow.

“I can’t reach my friend, Sam.” Steve announced as he tapped his earpiece. Hermione winced.

“Technology and magic don’t get along well—especially not apparition. Do you want me to grab him or something?” Hermione asked uneasy.

“He’s flying.” Steve responded. Hermione sighed.

“Can you email or call him or something? Or will that be traced? Does anyway know you’re aiding and abetting a wanted criminal?” Hermione asked. Steve shrugged.

“I don’t think anyone saw us aide him—they might assume that I was trying to apprehend.” Steve said. Hermione turned to continue down her hall.

“I suppose we’ll have to sort that later.” Hermione announced. She opened the door to the study.

“Don’t I get any say in this?” Bucky asked petulantly. Hermione laughed.

“No.” She said was another laugh. “Steve and I are too committed to watch you fail, I suppose.”

[messicamorena]

Bucky's first chapter

The nightmares are the first thing he remembers when he awakens--shot, after shot, after stab, after explosion. Distantly he recalls he killed a president. Less distantly he recalls killing a man who gave Steve his shield; he also killed his wife. There are tears in his eyes when he opens them. He feels comfortable and warm but also entirely too numb. The world is a new clarity compared to the wide brush strokes he had viewed before. Clutching his hand is the most beautiful woman in the world, though he might be biased; she is the first thing he sees in his new world. His new world is so blindingly beautiful that it hurts him. He closes his eyes to rid the light but he cannot--that is until he sees the silver hand unfurled in front of him. His breath intakes sharply and the world dims and all he can see is the silver arm killing. He knows he is imagining the blood on it but it scares him because the hand is so close to her—Hermione—and she is too pure and too kind and too good to even touch his real hand. He is a monster. He jumps away forcibly and she awakes instantly, her eyes sleepy then alert and then compassionate and worried as she gets to her feet. He feels his breath becoming shallow and choppy and he is scared that he will kill her because that is what he does now. He is relieved when he sees Steve rise from the floor beside Hermione, his face cautious and wary—like it should be.

“What were you thinking?” Bucky growls out and Steve and Hermione both look at him in surprise.

“Bucky?” Steve asks hesitantly.

“I could’ve hurt her! I could’ve killed her!” Bucky whispers harshly as he takes a step back. Something in her eyes flashes and she leaps towards him, hands outreached. He jumps back and hits the wall; her hands manage to grab his.

“You won’t kill me, Bucky. I already know you won’t.” She says with such confidence that he wants to believe her. He holds her stare—her eyes shining amber—before he turns to Steve with no doubt a pleading expression.

“Please, Steve.” Bucky does not quite beg but judging by Steve’s clenched jaw he conveys his message.

“Hermione.” Steve says commandingly and Hermione attempts to pin Bucky’s eyes with hers. Bucky steadfastly avoids them and Hermione sighs as she releases him and lets go. Bucky slides down the wall as Hermione takes a step back.

“How are you feeling?” She says softly, voice sounding chastised.

“What do you remember?” Steve asks. Bucky places his head in his hands.

“Too much.” Bucky responds and he really does. Yet he cannot manage to shake Hermione when her cool hands glow blue against his temples—his agony rescinding enough to be manageable.