#Poster -> Winter/Soldat

[the-rogues-gallery-sys]

Please send asks. Im bored. Wanna talk to people. And our beloved is working today so I dont want to message them too much to talk to them. So. Please. I want to talk to people.

[mattved]

Gaming

The longer story of how important the role of gaming has been in my life, coping with struggle, and my progression from an awkward kid to a respected professional.

Things have been kinda exhausting lately. I'm alive and glad and happy to have finally found a functioning relationship with actual potential on the one hand. On the other, my sister is going through difficult time facing emotional instability and combating matters of the past that started getting back on her, which we try to solve by family therapy that might or might not help. Quarantine hampered daily schedules of most of us, and personally, I haven't really returned to the standard full-time student/employee schedule ever since the first surgery year and a half ago. Until now.

Well, it is never that simple, is it\?! Alarm clock at 7:47, shower if I force myself out of bet before 8am, sleepy walk to the bus stop 300 meters away. 40 minutes of struggling for oxygen through the obligatory face mask while on the way to work. Asthma attacks are also a thing, some mornings.

Once at work, I have coffee, sometimes one, sometimes four. I try to be nice to my colleagues but spend most time fixing data sync issues on the currently deficient BI platform, quietly complaining and getting cranky over it. That might change. Or not.

At around 5:30, I pack my stuff and march back to the subway, feeling sorry for the planet, the things we make and abuse, the people who are poor, the people living in hunger, and the sun, because all of these are temporary.

Playing Sudoku on the way makes things a little better. A thing to focus on, historical timing statistics providing positive feedback loop with progressive improvement. But then, it is a bit too hot on the bus and I just can't focus enough, so I just flick through some memes and news articles feeling dizzy.

Once home, I start eating whatever I find, because eating out is just uneconomical and breakfast is out of question after my nightly sleepeating journeys to the kitchen. I have a chat with other family members when they are present, sometimes pour myself creamy liqueur over cube of ice, and climb upstairs.

And there it begins. Me time. Massive office desk, four screens, RGB lighting, ambient atmosphere, air conditioning, scented candle, posters on the wall, king-size bed, and nothing else. Sometimes I use it to call my girl for a bit, sometimes I just browse the web. But most of the time, I just sit down, put my headphones on, grab the mouse or X-Box controller, and play.

With or without a partner, online or offline, grinding or living the story, gaming has always helped me take my mind off things and use my brain in a world that I was actually able to influence. Gaming gave me opportunities to not only learn factual information but also understand the process of improving at something, read between the lines, know when to make a decision and when to just follow through, listen to others while forming a strategy, listen to some great music, and most of all, see and evaluate trade-offs.

Like most of members of the community who are my age, I started with handheld Tetris. (Yes, the one in the picture.) Then, there was doom when I was staying home alone as a kid, Duke Nukem 3D and one fantasy platformer I don't remember the name of, when an older kid from the neighbourhood (it was supposed to be his mother, really,) was babysitting me. When my oldest sister, there was Blood 2. Jazz Jackrabbit, StarCraft and Operation Flashpoint came around when I was failing to blend in at a new school.

At the time things were okay, in spite of the ridicule from my classmates, I had the first two of the EA Harry Potter series, Ford Racing 2 (which I got from a box of cereal) and things like Soldat. Entering grammar school, before it all started tilting hard, ice hockey and NHL 07 (my first modding experience,) RTL Winter Sports, and Diamond mine helped me make two real friends, while World of Warcraft enabled me to stay in touch with others and improve my english. Sims 2 came out when I needed it the most but they didn't stay for long.

In the darkest times, Trackmania Nations Forever helped me build virtual relationships and the illegal copy of GTA San Andreas a friend of mine brought over let me stay sane. Then there were the parties of Counter Strike (which I sucked at) at the boarding school helped me keep in touch with people in spite of not actually being liked.

My first own laptop and the desire to game on it helped me make another friend, whom I acknowledge too little nowadays, but who helped me a lot in transition into the society. We played everything we were able to get our hands on that the AMD Turion x64 with Radeon HD3200 were able to pull off. Need for Speed Underground 2 all the new 3D platformers were the thing then.

With my first dedicated graphics card laptop, I spent most time with Sims 3, webdesign, and ironically also the 1999 Unreal Tournament. The latter was a big life-saver when all my computers had given in the next year, because I got my hands on a Pentium II system with an unidentifiable graphics controller. And it ran at stable 16 FPS!!!

A decent hardware upgrade from that allowed me to play Burnout Paradise, a snowboading simulator, FlatOut2 and other awesome games. That was when things at home were bad and things at school were good. I liked staying over for weekends, talk to people, and study, too. Well, that didn't last long either. I got burned in my first romantic relationship and got expelled from the school in three steps.

Another dark period with little to no gaming followed. Sometimes I would have a chance to play with my classmates at a cyber café, but I had to start working, so there was little time. When there was some, I would choose World of Tanks over homework and made a return to World of Warcraft, on a private server, this time.

Toward graduation, when I got mauled by a second breakup with the same girl, it was the third of Harry Potter series and Sims 3 that helped a lot. First year of university meant better computer, opportunity of independent time-management, more World of Warcraft, some NHL09, Heartstone, lot of graphics design work and some mathematics.  

My roommate was a jerk and the relationship I managed to build toward Christmas wasn't to last in romantic sense, because of the distance. I volunteered at sports events, applied to a university in the UK, watched plenty of movies, was getting fat, and when there was a chance, I enjoyed Super Hexagon, Tetris, mostly light stuff.

First year in the UK was hard. I worked in a restaurant, studied, had no time, lived in a cold house, but I was really grateful for the opportunity and went through with it. It was the nostalgia of Need for Speed Most Wanted combined with novelty of League of legends that sustained the willpower and final decision to stay.

Year later, I became ambassador of Runeterra, began to accumulate titles in my Steam library, and had a great year in general. League was a way to stay in touch with my dad, then, while story rich games slowly crawled into the longer stretches of free time I had. Portal 2, Doom 3, Audiosurf, Trackmania2 Stadium and Trackmania Turbo brought me enjoyment between lectures and writing essays back then.

Final year of university was difficult from the beginning through the end. Living with a cocaine user and DJ, I did my best to isolate, played League and League alone, slowly climbing to Silver. Moving out prematurely to seek a better accommodation helped me find a squad of gamers to stay with and my passion came back. I played X-COM, Torchlight, Shelter 2 and guess what: League!!!

In Amsterdam, things were slowly moving to shit again. And so were my gaming habits. League remained but it was generally more of a book-time. And it is only right that way. Getting the C-word diagnosis was tough and I needed a sharp change in the degree of mental stimulation. I did my best to live on and game on.

With Max Caulfield in Life is Strange, I learned that I belong among the righteous few, who actually understood the morale of the story. But it was Chloe Price, who held my hand on the way through the worst. Before the storm, was far deeper a game for me than the original, not only by diving into the core of what shaped LiS as a series, but also by the fact that I could have failed at living long enough to see it end.

On my way to recovery, I moved on to the Awesome Adventures of Captain Spirit, Tomb Raider, Rise of the Tomb Raider, Yoku's Island Express, Spyro Reignited Trilogy, Horizon Chase and Zoo Tycoon 2018. Things have been hard then, especially when I woke up to see my stoma bag detached from my stomach and myself covered in excretions all over. That's probably when I needed them the most and when they were truly there to guide me, embrace me, and calm me down.

CoViD Quarantine that came not long afterwards was bearable thanks to the combination of LoL, GRID 2 that made me good at racing games, and GRID Autosport, which is even more challenging.

And coming back to this very day, I am enormously glad that I still have what to choose from and that there are my former classmates happy to have me join them playing Valorant any evening, only enhancing the experience of my comfort and the whole me time. Except I have to whine less about getting killed all the time and talk slightly less loudly while planning that invasion of site C.

And how cool is that Dan Bull released a song on this exact topic. It is by far not the only or even the most significant on the list of things that did, yet it still holds holds there.

And that is how gaming saved my life.

[gaysindistress]

Soldat - one

summary: After finally settling down in Louisiana with Sam, Bucky thinks he’s finally free. Unbeknownst to him, there’s an organization who’s mission is take out all enhanced individuals and he’s their next target

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (code name is Elv)

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, angst, guns, violence,

word count: 2.3k

Series masterlist

translations: they all come from google so if they’re wrong, please let me know!

Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte: Rest will come when evil is gone

dejevler: devils

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Snowflakes flutter down around her hidden form in the tree stand, her cold breath creating a fog in front of her as she steadies her breath and looks through the scope. The target hasn’t moved from his table in the last fifteen minutes, making their job easier and boring. The goal is to take the man out with one shot and slip away without being seen. Off to her side in another tree is one of her partners, the other sitting in the café to keep a close eye on their target. Each woman acts in parallel, never making a move without the others and all maintain the same patterns as if one machine. 

“Elv are you in position?” crackles through her ear piece. 

“Yes,” she mutters back.

“Five seconds until go.”

5

She takes a deep breath. 

4

Her heart rate slows to a steady pace. 

3

One eye closes to focus on the target through her scope. 

2

Her finger gets ready to squeeze the trigger. 

1

The target crumbles to the ground as the barrel smokes through the white landscape. 

She slips the gun back through her hiding spot as the cafe’s inhabitants start to create chaos. Slinging the gun across her back, she descends down the tree as her partner does the same. Their boots hit the ground as the third leaves the café. All three move in step together as they walk to their vehicle amongst the chaos of people running for help. The car doors slam shut once the sirens start to race down the street. Engine roaring to life, they speed off away from the scene as the shooter takes off her weapon and replaces it in the case that lays in the trunk. 

As if one mind, the women remove their beanies and masks, uniform braids dropping against their tactile vest clad shoulders. If someone were to look in their car, they would think the trio were one person mirrored three times with how in sync they are and uniform their outfits are. Their organization, the Voktere, preferred it that way; no difference between each member. Difference led to conflict and they reserved their conflict for their enemies. 

“We have a new target,” the passenger announces. 

“Already?” the shooter says as she finishes putting the gun away, locks clicking into place to ensure a secure closure. 

“Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte,” the driver recites effortlessly. 

“Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte,” the shooter repeats along with the passenger before posing another question, “Who is it?”

“The Winter Soldier.”

“The Winter Soldier?” the shooter parrots, settling into the backseat with her gloved hands tucked into the sides of her vest. 

“It’s an American enhanced soldier. It was taken by Hydra during the 40s and turned into a walking weapon however it was freed maybe ten years ago. We haven’t been able to get a secure location until recently. Our new intel points to Louisiana as its current location; it looks like the target has finally settled down so now is our chance to take it out.”

The shooter slowly nods her along with the information, taking it all in as she preps a mental plan for the best way to achieve their objection. The women in the front continue on their conversation, rattling off facts about the target as they do at the start of every mission. The Voktere are thorough with their investigations, gathering every piece of intel that could be useful from the appearance of the target to their medical history to find physical weaknesses. This target is slightly unusual however; the enhancing serum and prosthetic arm giving him an advantage they haven’t been up against before. 

“When do we leave?”

The passenger answers over her shoulder, “We’ll have two hours after we arrive at hq. They want us in America ASAP just in case the target takes off again.”

“And who is coming?”

“The three of us.”

“Good,” the shooter sinks back to rest her head against the seat as she speaks again, “No Fjell.”

“Fjell is a good fighter. You’d be lucky to have her on your team, Elv,” the driver chides.

Elv, the shooter, rolls her eyes and closes them to take a nap so she doesn’t have to keep listening to the two women fawn over the famed Fjell, who is every bit of her name; a tall standing mountainous woman who has a habit of sabotaging Elv when they’re on missions together. The other two women do persist in their lecture but she tones it out, praying for sleep to overcome her so she doesn’t have to endure the nonsense they are spewing. 

She is awoken by the slowing of the vehicle as it comes to a stop in front of a metal gate. Confirmations of their identities are made by the gatekeeper, another Voktere member, and she waves the car forward as she buzzes the gate open. The familiar driveway is covered in tall and looming trees to provide aerial coverage from anyone who might attempt to spy on them. The concrete compound comes into view from beyond the trees as the car rolls closer. Their headquarters is designed to look like an abandoned boat shed however inside an entire training and living facility is housed. 

Elv sits back in her seat when she spots their commander standing at the front doors, file in hand and waiting for their arrival. The car stops and the three women file out, weapon cases in hand as they cite their motto in greeting to their commander. 

“Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte,” the four women say in unison before the commander starts speaking, “Good work with the last target; quick and efficient. The next target will require the same level of work, perhaps more. It is more skilled and stronger than previous targets. Given its enhanced status, Fjell and her team will be on stand by if needed. Both teams will travel to Louisiana and work together but yours will be one sent in for the final objective.”

Elv hides the wrinkling of her nose at the mention of Fjell’s team joining them. Of course the brute of a woman would be joining them and if Elv’s team isn’t careful, Fjell would take over the mission and claim the win. The commander, an older woman with her rich, dark hair arranged in a tight braid, spots the sign of disgust and gives her a sharp look. 

“Something the matter, Soldat Elv?”

“Nothing, Kommandør Eik,” Elv’s body straightens at being directly addressed. 

Kommandør Eik’s dark eyes flicker down her body to assess her soldier's stance before meeting eyes again and nodding to release Elv. She hands the file to the driver as she leads the women into the compound. 

“This contains everything you’ll need for the mission. You’ll have three days once you land in America. Here,” she points to the page the driver has opened to, “is the photo of the target. I suggest all three of you make an execution plan, this target will not go down easily, which is why Fjell will be on standby waiting for your signal. Do not let the target see you or otherwise know of your existence. Its ability to take out entire teams single handedly is well documented. Your best chance will be to conduct a covert operation so it has no time to plan an escape.”

The heavy boots fall in step with each other as the sounds ricochet off the concrete and steel walls. As they make their way into the main room of the compound, Fjell and her team come into view as they’re preparing for their departure. Scattered across steel tables are various weapons and necessary tools ranging from small hideable knives to guns of various sizes. Fjell is ordering her team around, telling them what needs to be packed and what can stay while her thick brows furrowed in concentration. A sly smile falls upon her freckled face when she spots the incoming women. 

“Bregne, Selje, Elv,” she addresses the driver, passenger, and shooter respectively as she jumps down from the table she was standing on. The harsh light of the room does nothing to hide the contempt she has for them in her cruel light eyes. She stops short of the commander to recite the motto and begins explaining that her team is almost ready for departure. 

“We have almost finished our preparations. We’ll be ready within the hour.”

Kommandør Eik nods in appreciation then turns to the three women at her side, “I told you that you’d have two hours but it’ll be one hour instead. We have no time to waste.” 

She recites the motto then spins on her heel to leave the two teams to discuss their mission. Fjell smirks at the three as Kommandør Eik exits, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I think we should get it over now; you’re going to need my team. You’re not going to be able to handle the target on your own.”

Bregne, the white blonde driver, scoffs at her statement, “We are perfectly capable of handling this alone. Kommandør Eik is only sending you in as well because you complain about never having hard enough missions.”

“Or she doesn’t think you can do it. We’ll see who comes out of this in one piece,” she taunts, eyeing the trio and turning back to her team to order them to go back to their living quarters to get their personal belongings together, “You better go. We leave in 50 minutes.”

Selje shakes her head at the display of dominance, the action letting a few loose curls fall from her once taunt braid, “Maybe we should call her in and let the target dispatch her so we don’t have to deal with her insufferable attitude anymore.”

The suggestion earns her a hit to the arm from Bregne and a lecture about how, even if they can’t stand Fjell, she is still a Voktere and wishing for her death or injury is strictly against their code. Harm shall only be wished against the evil in the world; evil like their target. 

“Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte,” as their motto goes. 

Rest will come when evil is gone

From the moment they are born, they are told stories of how the djevler, those with unnatural abilities, are created to destroy this world. They are taught of the different kinds of djevler, some born and others made, and how to eradicate them for the good of humanity. Djevler are not human and should not be treated as such, they are animals, demons, and devils. They are referred to as targets because they’re the targets of their mission to erase them. While their mission is usually one they do not take part in for others, they will take on targets given to them from outside sources. Most of their targets are found by the Voktere themselves however the Winter Soldier is one that was given to them. 

Kommandør Eik had received an anonymous package that contained a letter about the enhanced individual and how vital it was that the Voktere make it their next target. Also included was a picture and coordinates for its current location. Considering how violent this individual seemed to be, it made the most sense that Elv, Bregne, and Selje be the assigned team. They worked exceptionally well together and had the highest success rate while assigned together. Fjell and her team, on the other hand, were more experienced with enhanced targets hence why they had also been assigned. They had just returned from an assignment that targeted the newly appointed Captain America, John Walker. The two teams’ rivalry hadn’t gone unnoticed by Kommandør Eik, however she had hoped that appointing them to the same mission would bring them together. If anything they could enjoy their success and ensuing celebration as one and maybe put whatever grievance they had aside. 

Her wish may be just that; a wishful thought because the current tension in the plane is so thick, you wouldn’t be able to see through it if it were fog. With her team beside her, Fjell sits across from Bregne, icy eyes staring daggers into her as she plans how she can insert her team into this mission and bench the other team. Selje and Elv are taking a nap, hands holding onto their chest straps and heads lolled forward. Kommandør Eik would lecture them about it if she were here however she is not and their captain Bregne does not care. She would be sleeping herself if the conniving Fjell wasn’t attempting to kill her with one glance. 

“What’s the plan when we drop in?” She asks with malicious lacing her voice. 

“Scout the last known location and find vantage points. From there I’ll assess the best plan of action. I will have you waiting close by if things go south but do not make a move without my cue. It’s been made very clear that this target is extremely skilled and deadly so any mistake could be disastrous.” 

“Wouldn’t it be wiser for us all to be in action?” 

“No,” the plane rocks with turbulence, waking the two girls and pausing Bregne before she starts again, “it’ll be too many people, too many factors to account for. The three of us know how the others inside and out. It’ll be easier to call for backup than relocate the target.” 

The co-pilot makes an appearance at the door leading to the cockpit to tell the teams they’re about to land and to prepare for immediate unloading. 

Fjell whispers one last warning to her as she leans forward, “We both know only of our teams is going to make it out alive and when it’s mine that does, I’ll be the one to tell Kommandør Eik how you folded under the pressure, unable to be a true Voktere.” 

[dontcallmecarrie]

continuation of this, because the idea lives rent-free in my head [heads up for minor profanity]:

Under other circumstances, planning a prison break wouldn’t have taken more than a week, tops.

Stranded in this weird hellscape, however...

Ivan Vanko sighed, and scrubbed a hand down his face. It was either that, or survey the main room of the bunker Victor von Doom had somehow managed to secure because he was a goddamn overachiever that way. Ivan’d probably be more annoyed if it weren’t working in their favor at this moment— wait a minute.

“How’re you holding up?” Ivan asked warily as he looked at him from a safe distance across the war room, because now that he thought about it, Victor had been acting...very weird, lately. 

Which was a problem, because Ivan had more than enough on his plate just trying to figure out how to get them all back home when he wasn’t stuck watching Loki and his feral counterpart circle each other like cats half a second from brawling, or the headache he got when the two Winter Soldiers came back from recon or supply-gathering or whatever the hell else they got up to ever since they’d joined up with the others and found out where Justin’d landed. 

Ivan didn’t think he was wrong to be paranoid about this type of radio silence, not when it was coming from the poster boy for a type-A personality. 

“I? Am fine.” Victor said, and Ivan might have even believed him if he didn’t have that maniac glint in his eyes that precluded the type of disaster only their esteemed leader could prevent, and sure enough— “Get the others, I have a plan ready.”

.

Once more, Loki was inordinately proud of the friends allies he had.

In an entirely different universe, limited resources and external factors working against them, and they still managed to pull stunts like this off. 

“What kind of...” His counterpart muttered from his spot in the corner, even as Victor walked them all through his plan to break the last of their party out of one of the most secured locations in one of the most powerful countries on the planet. Ivan nodded along as he took notes, presumably for whatever hyper-specialized gear they’d need, while the Winter Soldier looked over their plans with a pensive frown before throwing in the odd comment here and there.

Victor was in fine form today, confidently answering their questions as he ran through contingency plans and every last scrap of intel they’d managed to access. 

“This is why.” Loki said quietly, and his counterpart seemed lost and oddly bereft as the rest of Cabal plotted. “You wanted to know why I allied myself with Midgardians? Here you have it.”

.

“You know, you don’t have to do this.” The Winter Soldier told his counterpart. “Justin’s my friend, you have your own problems to deal with, Soldat.”

A single blink was his answer, and right, he’d been stubborn from the start, hadn’t he. It was...probably why HYDRA’s conditioning never took, which was good, but also frustrating as all get out because Soldat— and just getting him to pick a name had been a trial in and of itself— was dead-set on coming along.

“I mean it. We’re going home as soon as Ivan can figure out how to use the Tesseract to reverse whatever the hell he did to get us here, you’re going to be the one to deal with the consequences and you’re going to have enough on your plate as is.” 

How someone could look so mulish without moving a muscle, Winter didn’t know, but Soldat sure managed to pull it off nevertheless. 

“Oh, let him.” Victor interrupted their standoff. “It’s his choice to make, and we need all the help we can get, Winter.”

“We can pull it off.” He countered, and Victor inclined his head.

“Of course we can, I’m the one who planned it. But you can’t deny that four people trying to break someone out of supermax is a fairly tall order.”

“Ah, fuck, this is going to be a disaster.” The Winter Soldier pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan as he abruptly realized they’d be throwing two Lokis at the problem and would there even be a supermax standing, afterwards?

“Excuse you, my plans never fail—” 

“You sure you want in on this train wreck?” He asked Soldat abruptly, “Because odds are, it’s going to be like this the entire time.”

A single nod, and Winter leaned back with a sigh. “Fuck, I was afraid of that. Fine, okay...but when it goes to hell, I told you so.”

.

For the record, everything didn’t go to hell within the first five minutes. 

...it took six.

.

“Objective secured,” the Winter Soldier barked over the specially-made comms Ivan had handed out, as his left hand easily snapped the cuffs limiting Justin’s movements and immediately started ushering him to the extraction point while Loki set to work shorting out the camera system. Justin seemed to be frozen in place, but that was secondary; clearly he was in shock, but Winter couldn’t afford to put him at ease, not when they were operating on such a limited time frame and so he didn’t think twice about lifting his friend in a fireman’s carry. 

Elsewhere, Other Loki’s distraction continued to draw the guards’ focus.

“Okay, moving onto phase three. Victor, you ready?” Ivan’s voice came through loud and clear even as the alarms continued to blare around them.

“On i—” Victor’s voice cut off as what could only be an EMP went off, casting the entire facility in darkness for a few seconds.

Ivan’s creations were good, but he had limited resources to work with and so for the two minutes it took for their comms to get back online, they were on their own.

Fortunately, everyone in Cabal had taken that into account. 

“Come on,” Loki ushered them along and Winter didn’t even blink at the familiar green sparks that lit the way. In the distance, the guards’ surprised yelps told them Other Loki had decided to step up his own game long before they met up with him in the hallway. 

“Took you long enough. Is this him?” Other Loki’s smile had a strange sort of curiosity, and going by the way Loki had tensed, he’d noticed it too. 

“We can talk once we’re done.” Loki demurred, and set to work getting the array that’d teleport them out of here. 

As he did, Winter gently set Justin down. “Sorry about that, we’re on a bit of a time crunch.” 

“I—” Justin sounded oddly nervous, looking between him and the two Lokis, and Winter sympathized. 

“Yeah, I’m impressed the building’s still standing, too.”

If possible, Justin seemed to curl in on himself even more, and Winter reached towards him in concern. Hey, you okay? I’m sorry we’re late, things happened, but—”

“We’re ready,” Victor interrupted as he and Soldat rounded the corner and rushed towards them, and Winter froze as he saw who else they had in tow and whipped around to check, but—

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” Loki said as he stopped short, seeing the problem. 

Justin Hammer frowned at them in mild concern, as the Justin Hammer at his side started to hyperventilate. 

Whoops.

“Shit, I am so sorry—” Winter started, before he whipped around just in time to catch the shield hurled in their direction and fuck, that meant the Avengers were here, coming in hot and they had two noncombatants in direct range—

A single look told him the others were on the same page, and without saying a word, Loki and Victor set to activating the array while Winter hurled Captain America’s shield down the hall as he took up a defensive position. Soldat mirrored his position, and Other Loki seemed more curious than anything else but still threw out a shield strong enough to deflect the explosive arrow for the split-second it took for the array to kick in and get them the hell out of dodge before anyone got a good look at them. 

Then, and only then, did Winter have the time to take a step back and turn around and realize— 

“Ah, fuck, we accidentally kidnapped someone, didn’t we.”

[salute-your-sergeant]

Anywhere But Here

requested by anon!! The prompt was to base it off of Hold Me by The Sweeplings but it just kind of turned into me listening to it and this happened while i was. I hope they still like it! 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Angsty fluff, winter soldier

“Megera” - Vixen

Waking up in a cold, dank smelling room wasn’t how you thought your date was going to end. Your skin was covered in goose bumps, your brain was pounding against your scull as your breathing became heavy and panicked. You tried to get up, tried to yell and scream for help, but there was something holding you down where you lay, and there was something lodged into your mouth. Your eyes shot open last, immediately squinting as a bright light shot on with them. 

You heard a chuckle come from in front of you, but the cold metal held your head down too tightly to look to who it was. You whimpered as footsteps got closer, noticing that there was more than one set. There had to be at least three people, and at least two had to be large men. 

Finally, after a long step filled silence, a face appeared over yours, their face wrinkled and twisted into an evil smirk. 

“Well hello, dear.” He breathed out, his eyes twinkling with something that terrified you. “Did you enjoy your evening?” 

Those words triggered the memory of what you had been doing before this. It wasn’t often that you let a man take you out dancing, but your friends had moved on from the war, money was coming steady once again, people were getting married and having babies. 

So when a nice young man had entered the dinner you worked at, asking how a pretty lady like you was spending the evening alone, you agreed to go out with him that night. It had really been a nice evening. You had smiled and danced for hours. You had stopped at around 2 a.m., sitting to drink some water before you had to head back to your apartment. 

You hadn’t noticed the bits dissolving in your drink, too thirsty to pay attention. It only took five minutes for you to get light headed, your date gripping you tight, his kind smile turning into a dark chuckle. 

Then you woke up here. Your lip quivered as you stared up at the old man. 

“Calm down sweetheart. I’m here to give you a gift. Isn’t it a gift, Soldat?” He said, looking behind him at someone who didn’t verbally respond. The next thing you felt was a pinch in the crevice of both of your elbows, then ice cold running through your veins. It began to burn as you screamed and bit down on the mouth guard between your teeth. Then you blacked out. 

The next time you woke, it was in a room. But once they noticed you were conscious, men came into the safe space, dragging you back to the room you were first in. You began to protest and cry for help, almost getting out of their grip but they had already strapped you back into the machine. 

You don’t remember that time anymore. Now you spend your time on ice, only coming out to harm whoever your masters tell you to. You had never told them, but you could still think in the ice. You were trapped for months, years even, with just your thoughts. 

One day they woke you, dragging you into a room you’d never been to before. They said nothing, just closed the door behind you when they left. You heard something stir in a dark corner, causing your body to jump into a defensive stance, ready to kill whatever had threatened you. It wouldn’t be the first -or last time- that they had asked you to kill their own. 

When the object in question stood to full height, walking out into the dim light, your brows crinkled in interest. The man before you was large. His Body was built like a brick wall, and you noticed his left arm was a shiny metal. He had dark black smeared around his eyes that were half hidden by his long, shaggy hair. 

Before you could voice anything, a voice you knew too well came over the speaker, causing both your skin and his to prickle with fear. 

“Soldat, meet Megera. She was our first attempt at you. She’s very strong, but not very obedient. We have no more use for her, so she is yours. You may kill her, or keep her. It is your choice.” The sound of the intercom cutting off made your heart stop. 

Normally you wouldn’t be scared. You were a strong woman, much stronger than any man you’d ever met. But that was because of what they made you. If they made this man to be stronger, you would be dead in an instant. 

When you looked up at the Soldat, you didn’t see the evil and blood lust you were expecting. Instead, his head was tilted slightly to the right, his eyes studying you curiously. Your breath hitched as you watched him step closer. You stepped back. He didn’t like that. 

He took one stride to push you against the cement wall to your back, your head knocking against the material making a thump. “Mine.”

He said the word forcefully, but it wasn’t with intent to harm. He said it as if he had never had something of his own. Like he didn’t really know the full meaning of the word. 

You just whimpered softly, which cause his eyes to snap to meet yours. His confused glare turned into a soft look, his lips turning into a soft pout that almost made you smile. You hadn’t smiled in so long.

Soldat leaned down slowly, running his nose against your cheek, his flesh hand touching your lips softly as you gulped. 

“Mine,” he mumbled again, giving you a sharp nod before picking you up, making you squeal in fear. The fear wasn’t needed as he carried you to the small, metal bed against the wall, sitting you down and tucking you into the singular blanket.

You tried to push them off, scowling at his behavior, You weren’t a cat. This only made him agitated. He growled softly, pushing down a little hard, grunting out another, “Mine.”

You sighed, laying down in the hard bed, causing him to nod in satisfaction. After he decided you were properly taken care of, he crawled into the space behind you, wrapping his arms around your body securely, his breath fanning over the back of your neck. 

And that had been your life for five years now. You lived in this small room, being allowed a shower once a week, given one a meal a day through a slat in the door. Often times the Soldat would save his food and force you to eat it as a second meal later in the evening, unless it was Thursday. He ate his food on Thursdays. 

You had taken to calling him scruffy, knowing that Soldat wasn’t his name. You knew that Megera wasn’t yours either, you just didn’t know what it was. So he had taken to calling you Princess. 

Sometimes for weeks at a time they would take him away. He would willing leave now, knowing that you were the one at danger if he fought. He learned that the hard way and you had a large scar on your cheek to prove it. So he would kiss you on that scar before he left every time. 

When he came back, he’d spend the night telling you about the things he had seen on his trip. He always went somewhere different and always told you that when you escaped, he would take you to see them all. 

One night he came back, his face sadder than normal, his poster sagging. He had told you that he met someone on this mission. That he had known him. That he called him “Bucky,” and that he didn’t want to hurt him. 

They erased him that night. 

You took to calling him Bucky.

He didn’t know why.

Then one day, when Bucky had been away on a mission, and you had been stroking my scar while you fell asleep, a loud bang blew the wall off of your shared room. You saw the outside, covered in snow, and Bucky was standing outside, his face set hard, his breathing heavy as he stared you down, murder walking into the area, picking you up, and turning to walk away. 

You gripped his shoulders as you asked him what was happening, He didn’t answer. 

Someone tried to stop you, shooting Bucky in the leg. Bucky turned around, using the gun in his free hand to shoot the guy down, turning back to leave.

“Where are we going?” You cried out, gripping him tighter.

“Anywhere but here,” He whispered. 

Bucky Tag: @lilypalmer1987 ​ @senorita-stucky @unamoosed-imagines @irunintospace @bibibucky @desir-ae @delicatecapnerd @im-not-sebastianstan @saharzek @roxytheimmortal

[the-rogues-gallery-sys]

Im normal, I promise.

(Im a liar. /silly)

[the-rogues-gallery-sys]

God, I need a blog of my own. I cant just keep spamming this blog with my posts.

[the-rogues-gallery-sys]

That temptation to try to find sourcemates but that fear of starting conversations.

[the-rogues-gallery-sys]

Im going to crash out our favorite shirt is ripped.

[the-rogues-gallery-sys]

Oh speaking of my balloons I think this one is in love with Bucket (The Plant)

[the-rogues-gallery-sys]

..

I think i may be going insane.

[gaysindistress]

Soldat - Teaser

summary: After finally settling down in Louisiana with Sam, Bucky thinks he’s finally free. Unbeknownst to him, there’s an organization who’s mission is take out all enhanced individuals and he’s their next target

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (code name is Elv)

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, angst, guns, violence, 

word count: 426

Master list

translations: they all come from google so if they’re wrong, please let me know!

Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte: Rest will come when evil is gone

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Snowflakes flutter down around her hidden form in the tree stand, her cold breath creating a fog in front of her as she steadies her breath and looks through the scope. The target hasn’t moved from his table in the last fifteen minutes, making their job easier and boring. The goal is to take the man out with one shot and slip away without being seen. Off to her side in another tree is one of her partners, the other sitting in the café to keep a close eye on their target. Each woman acts in parallel, never making a move without the others and all maintain the same patterns as if one machine. 

“Elv are you in position?” crackles through her ear piece. 

“Yes,” she mutters back.

“Five seconds until go.”

five

She takes a deep breath. 

four

Her heart rate slows to a steady pace. 

three

One eye closes to focus on the target through her scope. 

two

Her finger gets ready to squeeze the trigger. 

one

The target crumbles to the ground as the barrel smokes through the white landscape. 

She slips the gun back through her hiding spot as the cafe’s inhabitants start to create chaos. Slinging the gun across her back, she descends down the tree as her partner does the same. Their boots hit the ground as the third leaves the café. All three move in step together as they walk to their vehicle amongst the chaos of people running for help. The car doors slam shut once the sirens start to race down the street. Engine roaring to life, they speed off away from the scene as the shooter takes off her weapon and replaces it in the case that lays in the trunk. 

As if one mind, the women remove their beanies and masks, uniform braids dropping against their tactile vest-clad shoulders. If someone were to look in their car, they would think the trio was one person mirrored three times with how in sync they are and uniform their outfits are. Their organization, the Voktere, preferred it that way; no difference between each member. Differences led to conflict and they reserved their conflict for their enemies. 

“We have a new target,” the passenger announces. 

“Already?” the shooter says as she finishes putting the gun away, locks clicking into place to ensure a secure closure. 

“Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte,” the driver recites effortlessly. 

“Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte,” the shooter repeats along with the passenger before posing another question, “Who is it?”

“The Winter Soldier.”

[gaysindistress]

Soldat - three

summary: After finally settling down in Louisiana with Sam, Bucky thinks he’s finally free. Unbeknownst to him, there’s an organization who’s mission is take out all enhanced individuals and he’s their next target

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (code name is Elv)

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, angst, guns, violence,

word count: 2.6k

Part 2 | master list

translations: they all come from google so if they’re wrong, please let me know!

Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte: Rest will come when evil is gone

dejevler: devils

Jeg snakker ikke med djevler. - I don’t speak with devils.

forbedret - enchanced

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

How one comes to be a Voktere is a gray area. They are not like the Widows, children stolen from poor families but they are also not willing participants. Most are descendants of those who were harmed by the dejevler, seeking retribution for their lost loved ones. As generations pass and original causes are forgotten, the Voktere of today have no memory of what life is like without the organization, their only life experiences being within the Voktere code and life. Born into the life, Elv is the prime example of this; her great grandfather had been murdered by a dejevler and his wife sought out the Voktere to avenge his death, pledging their offspring to an eternity of labor for the leaders of the world. All day every day, she’s a therapist, mother, maid, nymph, then a virgin, nurse and a servant. She is just an appendage that lives to attend to the leaders of the Voktere but she knows no other way. The weight of her reality weighs on her as the car rolls down the highway and she’s left to wonder if she’s just another pawn.

Why hadn’t Fjell shown up? 

Why hadn’t Selje or Bregne shown up?

Why was she in this car, being taken to gods know where?

Why wasn’t she saved?

Did she really mean nothing?

Bucky had convinced Sam to stay in Delacroix as they head to New Orleans for Norway, leaving just him and the woman that seemed to hate him with all of her being. Of course it hadn’t gone down without a fight; Sam demanded to come but Bucky refused, asserting that this was something that he needed to do alone. Seeing the determination in his eyes, his friend conceded and let him leave alone. However without Sam, Elv had gone back to only speaking with only absolutely necessary, still holding her vow seriously albeit wavering. 

The other question that swirls around her head is how did he know where the compound is or is he bluffing until she tells him? Curiosity gets the better of her and it spills out before she can stop it. 

“How do you know where our compound is?”

There’s a flash of surprise in his cerulean eyes at her question but it quickly fades as he replies without taking them off the road, “It’s not that hard to find.”

“How much do you know about us?”

“Enough.”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she steels herself so she doesn’t lose her mind with his short answers. 

“Define enough.”

“Now it’s acceptable to talk to a dejevel?” The word taunts her as it rolls off his tongue, a hint of mischief is evident in his eyes as he takes a quick look at her. 

Frustration rises in her throat, threatening to tear its way out but she knows better than to let her emotions get the best of her no matter how on edge he makes her. Being in close proximity to him is clipping away at her resolve, piece by piece as he becomes more human to her. The more she notices about him, the less she sees him as the Winter Soldier and with this shift, the mission directive of termination is becoming increasingly harder to maintain. She was taught to never speak to the targets because it does this; it humanizes them and makes it harder to carry out the mission. Never has she made this mistake but there’s something about him that makes her want to get closer to him and she’s going to deny it as long as she can. 

“Only when you claim to know about us,” she mutters, staring out the window to watch the landscape around them pass by. 

He doesn’t respond right away, letting the silence create tension again before answering her previous question, “I know enough that if I don’t finish this now, I’ll be running for the rest of my life.”

“You plan to wipe out all Voktere?”

“No.”

“Then what is your plan?”

“Can’t tell you that just yet. All you need to know is that it includes you getting us inside the compound.”

She rolls her eyes at the idea, “They won’t let me in if they know you took me. They’ll shoot us on the spot.”

“That’s your problem to figure out.”

The car is consumed by silence once again, each rider contemplating how to best the other. The drive to New Orleans is not long, only lasting about an hour or so but it doesn’t stop the tension from growing to a suffocating level. Relief washes over her as they roll to a stop on a private airstrip and she’s able to open the door, taking in the fresh air. A man appears at the side of one of the three planes and approaches the car. An uneasy feeling rises in her chest as he gets closer and is not eased by the look of familiarity that fills Bucky’s face. The two men greet each other in mild excitement as they speak with hushed tones. Elv can’t hear anything they’re saying, only able to assume that they’re talking about the plane and her. Her assumption is correct when she hears her name come from Bucky’s mouth and he makes a motion with his head in her direction. 

“How quickly can we get to their compound?”

The unnamed man sucks in a breath between clenched teeth, “With a standard plane, maybe 15-16 hours but I might have something that would get you there faster.”

He leads Bucky towards the hanger and opens the large door to reveal an all too familiar aircraft; a quinjet. 

“This could get you there in about half of the time and under the radar.”

The blank look on Bucky’s face is telling of how he feels about the quinjet, “Do I want to know how you got one?”

“Better to not ask questions, so do you want it?”

The side eye the unnamed man receives is his answer and he claps his hand together as he says, “Great! I’m guessing you know how to fly it.”

“Yes,” is Bucky’s one word answer as he waves a hand for Elv to join them. 

As she makes her way to the two men, she recognizes the unnamed man as a popular supplier among her previous targets. It seems as though he recognizes her as well from the way he shrinks slightly when she comes to stand by Bucky. She wants to revel in the discomfort she brings him except the feeling of cold metal on her back freezes her threat as she’s softly nudged towards the sleek aircraft. No other words are exchanged as they climb aboard and take their seats in the cockpit. He hands her a headset as he begins to prepare the quinjet for take off, flipping on many switches and pushing various buttons as it awakens. 

“Hello Sergeant Barnes,” the quinjet’s system announces. 

A smile graces his face at the name as he puts on his own headset. 

“Ready?” cracks through her headset and makes her jump slightly from the sudden sound. 

That deep laugh from the dock comes shortly after and she sharply inhales as that feeling takes over her body as the jet creeps forward and out of the hangar. 

“Estimated time of arrival is 9 hours” the quinjet tells them. 

“You can sleep. I promise to not kill you in your sleep,” Bucky tells Elv, a slight smirk across his lips as the jet begins to take off. 

“I’ll take my chances with fatigue.”

“Are all Voktere stubborn?”

With her eyes closed because of the turbulence from taking off, she can’t see the way he looks over at her in concern and checks over her for signs of distress. She can see the way he relaxes when he doesn’t find anything and returns to leveling out the jet. 

“If by stubborn you mean devoted then yes.”

“Devotion is really just blind following.”

Even though she’s said she would rather take her chances with fatigue, she had drifted off with her head resting against the side of the seat. The faint flashing lights of the console is what finally wakes her. Sitting up in her seat, she tries to make it look like she wasn’t sleeping. 

“I kept my promise, didn’t I?” There’s that charming smirk again as he checks on her. 

“Maybe you wanted to see the life drain from my eyes,” she stifles a yawn, “make the kill enjoyable.” 

“Jesus you’re morbid.” 

“Comes with the territory. How much longer?” 

The quinjet answers for her, stating her real name as it responds with 4 hours remaining. 

Bucky muses over the sound of her name and repeats it, syllables rolling off in a way that’s too pleasing to her ear. Half expecting a punch or snide remark, he tries it again and this time he makes sure he’s looking at her. There’s tension in her jaw, evident in the way the muscle contracts when he says her name. Her breathing hitches as well, breaking her usually steady and otherwise undetectable breathing pattern. The trained heartbeat skips causing an irregular harmony under his watchful eye. 

“How does it know me?” she utters under her breath, internally begging her body to regain control. 

“I think it’s programmed to recognize everyone.” 

“I am not traceable. It’s impossible,” she asserts a little louder. 

“Clearly not.”

“The Voktere are not known to the public, our people are ghosts among humans. It is impossible for this machine to know my name,” her voice grows louder but she says it  more to herself. 

“That’s what you’re taught but it’s not true. The Voktere are the same as the Widows; agents trained for the greed of others.” 

Her brows furrowed in confusion at his word as she tried to reason within herself, “No we are an ancient order. We were created to protect the human race.” 

“Do you remember your parents?”

“What?” 

He repeats his question with a knowing look. 

Stumbling over her words, she racks her brain for memories of her parents, grandparents, anything. Nothing comes to her mind, only the motto she loves by; Hvilen kommer når ondskapen er borte. 

“No.” 

“Do you remember why you became a Voktere?” 

“My great grandfather was murdered and his wife joined to avenge him.”

Letting go of a deep sigh, he begins his unraveling of her world, “Thats what you’ve been told. The Voktere is an older sect of Hydra, created to capture anyone that could create the super soldier serum. After Hydra made the serum, they shifted their mission to keeping the soldiers to check. When Hydra fell, a woman named Labrenda Eik took over and made all of the remaining Voktere into super soldiers. She wanted to make an army of them but knew she needed to remove any threats hence why you go on missions.”

The revelation is mind boggling to Elv who is having a difficult time even listening to what he’s saying. It can’t possibly be true that Kommandør Eik of all people created the very thing they’ve been taught to protect humans from. 

However he isn’t finished, “You go through the same torture I did; constant brainwashing to be the perfect weapon. There’s a reason why you can’t remember anything but your training; that’s what she wants.” 

“Do you really expect me to believe you?”

“Why would I lie?”

“To get me on your side.” 

“Think about it more; why would I lie to you?” 

So she does. She searches her brain for anything that would prove him wrong, a memory, a face, anything at all. Just as before she doesn’t find anything, only the implanted origin story of her great grandfather and her upbringing in Voktere training. There’s nothing familiar about her memories of her family, they replay like scenes from a movie she’s watched too many times. While she struggles internally, Bucky is keeping a close eye on her, monitoring her vitals as she begins to show signs of distress. Calling her name does nothing to bring her back so he places a hand on her knee to ground her in reality. 

The touch shocks her, forcing a gasp and ragged breathing as she stares at it. Even though her mind is telling her to remove it, her body leans into the touch and relaxes. 

“I’m forbedret.” 

“No you’re human. You are a person,” his kind words are the final crack in her resolve as tears begin to spill freely down her cheeks. 

Bucky presses a few buttons and confirms with the quinjet that yes he wants it on autopilot. He gets up and kneels behind her chair, gently pulling it so she is facing him. The clasps of her seatbelt are undone with it being the only thing that was keeping her upright, she drops forward and into Bucky who catches her. Curling her arms under his and around his shoulders, she lets out of her stress, frustration, anger, and pain into his shoulder, the cold of the metal seeping through his shirt and onto her cheek. Years of being the perfect soldat, the perfect follower, the perfect daughter to an organization that was using her were let out in her tears. The weight of simply existing as a Voktere could never be fully lifted from her shoulders just as the weight of being the Winter Soldier could never leave his. With time, as he has learned, the weight does lighten and your old self does return. While she may not have an old self to return to, she would be able to create a new identity, one where Elv would be forgotten and her name would be the only thing people knew her as. 

“It’s okay Doll,” whispered into her hair as her tears started to slow. Drawing back but not enough to leave his embrace, she wipes her face with the sides of her hands.

“What are you going to do to Kommandør Eik?”

His thumbs rub her arms as he thinks about how to answer, “Does she carry a notebook around with her?”

“A notebook?”

“Yeah she���s always carrying it, never leaves it unattended. Have you ever seen what’s inside?”

Her nose wrinkles from the crying as she replies, “There’s one in her office that doesn’t leave. She left it open one time but closed it before I could really see anything.” 

“What did it say?”

“Um,” she’s rubbing her temple while trying to remember what exactly she saw, “I think it was a list but I can’t remember what it said.”

“That’s fine. When we get to the compound, I need you to get to her office and find that notebook. That list is a list of trigger words to restart you but there should be a second list to release all of your memories. Once you find the notebook, say the second list over the intercom and you should be able to release all of the Voktere who hear.”

“What about Eik?”

“I’ll handle that but do you understand what I need from you?” He's holding her shoulders tightly now to convey just how serious he’s being. She nods once to confirm that she understands. 

“Good,” he smiles at her, wrinkles showing up around his eyes that give him a softer appearance and warms her heart. She wants to reach out and trace them, get to know every line that graces his features and find out the many stories that led to those smile lines. Another time she tells herself as he lets her go and gets to his feet to fly the quinjet again. Buckling her seat, she spins back around with the memory of his smile forever replaying in her head.