Amelia Holmes Talked Fast, And Thought Faster. Words Spilled Out Like She Was Five Moves Ahead And Barely

the body slumped against the wall, a smear of red streaking down cracked concrete while the sound of the gunshot rang in his ears. he watched her, silent, the dim light catching the steel of his arm as he stepped forward. her grip on the gun was tight—too tight. knuckles white, hands shaking, but not from fear. from something colder. something deeper.

❝ i thought it would give me a moment of peace. ❞

bucky clenched his jaw together tightly and reached out, slow, deliberate. his fingers brushed the side of the weapon, testing for resistance, and then he pried the gun from her hands. ❝ it's done. ❞ he said, because what else was there? he'd been where she was, he'd done what she'd done ten times over and even now, knowing what he knew, he'd do it again. // @staticveil , altered carbon prompts .

he pinched his lips together tightly, grim and final upon the bitter laugh that escaped her lips. yes, it was cruel, the cruelest part of what had been done to them was the aftermath. the trying and failing, and trying, and failing to piece some semblance of normalcy back together after being ravaged and having no one else to blame for it.

bucky didn't consider himself particularly spiritual, even with all the impossible things he had seen and experienced, but when their eyes met, something within him seemed to . . . connect. the same unknown thing reflected back, whole and seemingly so real it might as well have been tangible.

the corners of his mouth twitched into a bittersweet smile. he couldn't comfort her, he couldn't sooth her doubts or anxieties, and he couldn't heal her wounds but this—this he could do. the assurance that she wasn't alone, that there was someone who understood, who could share in the burden, who would not flinch or hide or placate with falsehoods. he wanted it to be enough. ❝ we take what we can get, ❞ bucky agreed.

the bittersweet smile lingered, softening at its edges as she mentioned a mostly abandoned library. the tension that had gathered around them as they spoke lightened as they shared their burden between them. ❝ i've got nowhere better to be. ❞ he stood, ❝ lead the way. ❞

kara closed her eyes for a moment,  exhaling through her nose,  as if she could push the weight of it from her chest.  it never worked.  the weight did not leave — it only settled differently,  shifting like sand,  filling spaces she hadn’t realized were hollow.  survival,  he called it,  but it did not feel like survival.  survival should have meant something more than this endless treading of water,  this constant recalibration of self,  this desperate attempt to define the edges of a person who had been reshaped too many times to recognize.  

she had spent years dissecting history,  unearthing lost truths from ruins,  believing that knowledge could illuminate the fractures in time.  but what of the fractures in herself? what of the moments lost to another’s will,  the choices stolen before they could ever be hers?  &  what of the things she had done in that space between will  &  coercion — things she could never quite convince herself weren’t,  on some level,  choices?  

she let out a quiet laugh,  humorless but not unkind,  the sound barely more than breath.  ❝isn’t that the cruelest part?❞ her voice was softer now,  frayed at the edges like something worn thin by time.  ❝that survival isn’t about winning.  it isn’t about answers.  it’s just waking up  &  carrying it again.   &  again.   &  again.❞ she had spent so long chasing resolution,  clinging to the belief that if she just found the right question,  the right truth,  the right name for what had been done to her,  it would make a difference.  that it would become something she could lock away in the archives of her mind,  catalogued  &  contained.  but there were no clean lines here,  no dates to mark the end of a war still waging beneath her skin. 

 &  yet,  when she lifted her gaze to his,  something shifted.  there was no judgment in his eyes,  no expectation — just the quiet understanding of someone who knew exactly what it was to live in the in-between.  the silence between them was not empty but full,  layered with something unspoken,  something almost gentle in its recognition.  her breath caught,  just for a moment,  before she softened,  her voice quieter now,  something raw threading through it.  ❝but if we have to carry it,❞ she murmured,  ❝then i suppose there are worse things than sharing the load.❞ it was a quiet offering of company in the places where ghosts still lingered.  maybe that was enough. 

❝there’s an old library a few miles from here,❞ she said after a pause,  the words careful,  deliberate.  ❝abandoned, mostly.❞ a beat,  then a faint,  fleeting flicker of something like wry amusement in her eyes.  ❝unless you have a better idea.❞

the docks reeked of salt and rust, the brine curling in off the water and tangling with the sharp scent of oil slicks and cigarette smoke. bucky was midway through unloading a shipment when he saw him. limping slightly, a welt blooming ugly and purple along his cheekbone, just shy of his eye. a split lip, dried blood crusted at the corner. jacket dusted with grit and knuckles raw. bucky swore under his breath, setting the crate he'd been carrying down and ignoring the curious looks his coworkers shot him as he met him on the quay.

[ 05 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they got while doing something the receiver warned them not to attempt alone.

❝ for chrissake, steve! ❞ bucky all but growled once he was close enough he wouldn't have to yell, ❝ i told you to wait for me. ❞ his fingers twitched—tempted to grab him, shake him, maybe slug him once for good measure. they'd heard about the harrisons through the usual gossip on their block. moved in a few weeks ago, two floors below his and steves. mrs. harrison was as sweet a girl as anyone could ask for and pretty as a doll, but mr. harrison was a stone cold drunk with a tendency to talk with his fists.

❝ how bad? ❞ bucky asked, lips pressing into a grim line because he knew. knew that if steve confronted the man half-cocked and alone then something had to have gone very, very wrong. // @sh1elded , injuries + aid prompts .

the soldier's expression shifted, a hard edge to the way the corners of his mouth tightened as she gave voice to things he'd only ever kept in his head. he felt uncomfortably exposed, as if she were pulling things from his own head, kicking and screaming, into the dim light of the old bulb above their heads.

❝ you know that i do. ❞ he said. ❝ i go every day asking the same things you do. is this the real me, or is it the thing they made me into? will i ever know? is any of this real or is it a dream? did i really do those things? was it even me if i can't say for sure? ❞ there was no easy answer.

❝ if you play that game of what if's, you'll lose every time. ❞ bucky said with the same unconscious resignation reflected in her face. he had nothing to offer her. no answers or absolution, no wise teachings to cure her of her doubts. only the cold hard truth of survival. ❝ you learn to live with it. ❞ it wasn't what she wanted to hear, he knew, because he didn't want to hear it either. no one wanted to be told that they would have to live with the doubt the rest of their lives, that there was no digging it out, no killing it, only enduring.

❝ and if it gets too heavy . . . at least you're not carrying it alone. ❞ quite the pair they made. maybe if they stuck their broken pieces together they'd be able to make a whole and functional person.

the words landed with a weight that settled somewhere deep,  pressing against the places she had spent years trying to bury.  it would have been easier if he had argued,  if he had given her the sharp edge of disbelief,  something solid she could push back against.  but she knew better — he didn’t deal in false comforts.  he had no need for excuses,  & it seemed no interest in dressing wounds that would never fully close.  

kara exhaled slowly,  a breath that felt more like surrender than relief.  ❝then you know what it’s like to wake up  &  not be sure if the thoughts in your head are yours.  to second-guess every action,  every instinct,  because there’s always that whisper — maybe this isn’t me,  maybe this is what they left behind. ❞ her voice was steady,  but there was something beneath it,  something brittle.  ❝ &  the worst part? even when you fight your way back,  even when you know it’s over,  it never really is.  because what if they were right? what if it wasn’t all forced? what if — ❞ she stopped herself,  jaw tightening.  that was the thought she never spoke aloud.  the one that lingered in the quiet spaces,  in the dead hours of the night when there was no mission to focus on,  no objective to drown in.   

she looked at him then,  really looked,   &  she for a second it was as if she could see it — the same question buried in the sharp lines of his face,  the tension in his shoulders.  like he understood.  not in theory,  not in sympathy,  but in a way that only someone who had lived it could.  ❝so tell me, ❞ she said,  quieter now,  but no less steady.  ❝what do you do with it? the knowing? the weight of it? because i’ve read every philosophy,  every myth,  every self-help book,   &  none of them have an answer that doesn’t feel like a lie. ❞

he didn't know her well enough to object on whether or not she was always right, but he was relatively certain that she was right about this. he exhaled slowly, a habit more than anything else and while his expression remained carefully neutral, it was clear that his mind was racing, running through scenarios and weighting the risks against necessity.

❝ that's not going to work, ❞ bucky said, voice firm, ❝ i can't clear the building without setting off every alarm they've got. the second i start moving people, someone's gonna notice. cameras, guards, hell—just one wrong move and we're screwed before you even get to the bomb. ❞

it was an ugly thing to realise that killing people was a hell of a lot easier than saving them. ❝ we need a diversion. something to pull their attention, force them to readjust. like a better target. ❞

Amelia knew that she could talk for England, bouncing off facts and conclusions that sprawled into her head as if it were nothing, the odd looks that she often got, yet here Bucky was looking at her as if she were normal. "I'm always right" Amelia responded, for she had calculated every aspect inside of her mind. "..If we don't stop this from happening, then a lot of people are going to get hurt, and if I call my uncle and make it a national emergency.. he will be too slow, too many protocols and hurdles to get over" Amelia paused.

"we are going to have to do this ourselves..we don't have a choice" She could hear it now in the back of her head, Amelia Jessica Holmes you are reckless! The sound of John Watson's voice often invaded her mind, to try and give her some sense of simple reason. "I have dealt with people like this before, we will have to tread carefully and not be seen. Once I'm in there, I can disarm the bomb and you can help get everyone out. I suspect from that point, we will have, five minutes before they notice that something has gone wrong and probably ten minutes to truly be out of the building before hell breaks loose" She gave a small cock of her head, a slight smirk formed across her lips. "But that's always the fun of it, isn't it?"

INJURIES + AID.

a collection of prompts in which sender comes to receiver for help with an injury, focusing on trust, vulnerability, and a little bit of embarrassment! various situations included, cw for injuries, implied self harm, and nsfw content!

add +reverse as needed, or specify extra details! in no particular order:

[ 01 ] sender comes to receiver with a wound they have been keeping secret and has become infected.

[ 02 ] sender comes to receiver for help with a wound they swore they could take care of alone.

[ 03 ] sender comes to receiver with an unrelated injury but happens to be covered in marks from a recent sexual encounter.

[ 04 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they got during sex.

[ 05 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they got while doing something the receiver warned them not to attempt alone.

[ 06 ] sender comes to receiver with an self-inflicted injury from unwise sword/bow/weapons practice.

[ 07 ] sender comes to receiver with a self-inflicted injury from a silly domestic (cleaning/cooking etc) accident.

[ 08 ] sender comes to receiver with a self-inflicted injury for which they provide no excuse.

[ 09 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a location they cannot easily reach.

[ 10 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they do not remember getting.

[ 11 ] sender comes to receiver with an aggravated old injury they knew they needed to be careful of.

[ 12 ] sender comes to receiver having re-opened a healing wound.

[ 13 ] sender comes to receiver having ruined the dressing of a recent wound.

[ 14 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a sensitive/intimate location.

[ 15 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a location that reveals an embarrassing/secret tattoo.

[ 16 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury in a location that reveals scars that are not usually seen.

[ 17 ] sender comes to receiver with a problem that reveals an old injury they need to explain.

[ 18 ] sender comes to receiver with a problem they have had before, but has been previously shoddily cared for.

[ 19 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury they're sure was a deliberate attack on them, though they have no evidence.

[ 20 ] sender comes to receiver needing care for a recent tattoo.

[ 21 ] sender comes to receiver needing care for a recent piercing.

[ 22 ] sender comes to receiver needing care for another recent body modification.

[ 23 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury that has been inflicted upon them as punishment.

[ 24 ] sender comes to receiver with a long-term injury they've finally decided to address.

[ 25 ] sender comes to receiver with an injury that reveals a long-kept secret.

altered carbon sentence starters. episode one && two.  feel free to change pronouns and details if necessary !! 

❝  don’t trust anything. ❞

❝  let experience wash over you. ❞

❝  expect nothing. only then can you be prepared for anything. ❞

❝  who cares? we’re getting paid. ❞

❝  have you always been such an asshole? ❞

❝  the only way you’ll learn is by watching, so watch. ❞

❝  you’ll be fine. ❞

❝  i think i’m gonna be sick. ❞

❝  what the fuck?  is that normal? ❞

❝  you almost fucking killed me, man. ❞

❝  make them remember. ❞

❝  you had to go be a dick. ❞ 

❝  some people just need killing. ❞ 

❝  that’s a little vague. ❞ 

❝  where did you get this? ❞ 

❝  some things can’t be bought. ❞ 

❝  no one has that kind of power. ❞

❝  stop obsessing. ❞ 

❝  there’s nothing to be afraid of. ❞ 

❝  who’s fucking afraid? i’m not afraid. ❞ 

❝  i need to show you something. ❞ 

❝  what’s your excuse? ❞ 

❝  are you a moron or just an asshole? ❞ 

❝  i just want one thing to go right today. ❞ 

❝  you know. it’s… it’s about the details. ❞ 

❝  people like you are still stupid. ❞ 

❝  i was wrong about you, [name]. ❞ 

❝  i don’t know how to be in this world without you. ❞

❝  there’s more here than you’re willing to see. ❞

❝  never. you hear me? not ever. ❞

❝  no matter how tranquil the world seems, peace doesn’t last long. ❞

❝  she’s not our problem. ❞

❝  war is the only thing we really understand. ❞

❝  ah, for fuck’s sake. ❞

❝  that’s disappointing. ❞

❝  let me know if [name] goes anywhere. ❞

❝  don’t thank me. just stop. ❞

❝  i’m sure he’ll understand. ❞

❝  how tasteful. ❞

❝  you want answers, they come with questions attached. ❞

❝  all this trust is just making me tear up. ❞

❝  don’t threaten me again. ❞

❝  they’re not like us, [name]. ❞

❝  i was worried. ❞

❝   sooner or later, somebody’s gonna have to tell her the truth. ❞

❝  i’ll never see her again, not even to say goodbye. ❞

❝  do you know what that’s like? ❞

❝  violence is almost always, in one way or another, personal. ❞

❝  well, you didn’t answer. ❞

❝  i got drunk to celebrate. ❞

❝  technology advances. but humans don’t. ❞

❝  what the hell is wrong with you? ❞

❝  you gotta get out more, [name]. ❞

❝  you’re just gonna leave? ❞

❝  i thought it would give me a moment of peace. ❞

❝  i should’ve known better. ❞

❝  you’re not supposed to have that. ❞

❝  me and [name] have been best friend forever. ❞

❝  i’m devastated. ❞

❝  you’re better off alone. ❞

❝  this is my place. i’m staying. ❞

❝  if it was me, what would you do? ❞ 

❝  you’re worth more than that. ❞ 

❝  you can’t possibly think i’m that stupid. ❞ 

❝  i’m too tired to do the paperwork. ❞ 

❝  you wanna know why? because i’m capable of almost anything. ❞ 

❝  when i get there, i’ll let you know. ❞

❝  i’ll be right next to you. ❞

❝  how about, fuck no? ❞

❝  there’s someone waiting for you. ❞

❝  i’m afraid i had no choice in the matter. ❞

❝  sometimes, complexity can be exhausting. ❞ 

❝  you fascinate me. ❞ 

❝  you’re everything this world has lost. ❞ 

❝  why would i be nervous? ❞

❝  i’ve done terrible things. ❞

❝  please forgive me. ❞

❝  sometimes, surrender can be as savage as any attack. ❞

❝ you think i can't walk out of here right now? ❞ the soldier asked, a trace of a challenge woven into his voice. whatever power her bosses or their bosses' bosses thought they had was nothing more than wishful thinking. he'd taken apart more than a single police station with less. the only reason he was sitting in that interrogation room, the only reason he'd even stepped foot into the station was because he wanted to.

❝ oh? and who's they, huh? ❞ bucky asked, a humorless smile that was all teeth tugging at the corners of his mouth. he suspected she was good at her job, perhaps even an expert in her field, a shining star. but he'd come face to face with people like her over and over again. people who spoke beautifully, eloquently, who said all the right things in all the right ways. but there was always an angle. some agenda hidden inside all of the carefully interwoven hints and unspoken promises.

❝ and what's in it for you? you gonna share this information with me for what? need me to kill someone for you? destabilise a country? destroy an embassy? ❞ that humorless smile remained, as sharp as the curve of a knife, ❝ i don't work for anyone anymore. ❞

clea’s gaze remained steady,  neither pressuring nor retreating,  her words carefully measured.  she saw the quiet resolve in him — the winter soldier,  a man who had been honed by pain  &  time into something beyond ordinary human limits.  she wasn’t naive enough to think she could break him,   &  there was no need to try.  he was the one who had to decide if he wanted what she had to offer.   

her voice was soft,  like a gentle invitation,  but it carried weight — an offer he couldn’t ignore.  ❝no one is keeping you, ❞ she said,  her words almost soothing.  ❝but you’re already in a position where you don’t have full control,  even if you think you do.❞ she leaned forward slightly,  her expression unhurried,  as though she were discussing a simple fact of life.  ❝i’m not offering you shelter or protection.  i’m offering you information — things you need to know,  things they don’t want you to hear. ❞ she let that hang in the air for a moment,  watching him,  her eyes reflecting an understanding that was almost too knowing.  ❝you don’t have to trust me,  but you should know this: you can’t outrun what’s already hunting you.  not forever. ❞ she tilted her head slightly,  her voice lowering.  ❝i can help you avoid it.  or,  at the very least,  i can tell you how to fight back. ❞

HEADCANON : dissociation & derealisation .

Bucky experiences dissociation, derealization, and hallucinations as lingering effects of his trauma, brainwashing, and fractured identity. Strangely, these moments don’t happen in high-stress or violent situations. When he’s fighting, running, or reacting on instinct, everything is sharp, real, and immediate. It’s only when things are quiet—when he’s sitting alone in an apartment, walking through a peaceful street, or drinking coffee in a café—that the world starts to blur. The stillness unsettles him more than chaos ever did. Without the constant need to survive, his mind has space to unravel, and that’s when reality begins to slip.

In crowds, the world warps and shifts. City streets become too bright, too sharp, and suddenly, he’s back in a cold bunker. If someone grabs his arm unexpectedly, for a split second, he’s strapped into the chair again, metal fingers twitching as his body braces for pain. Sometimes, his body reacts before his mind catches up.

Bucky can sometimes experience visual, auditory, and even olfactory hallucinations, each tied to echoes of his past. He sees fragments of people he once knew, glimpses of Hydra operatives, or flickers of moments long gone. Sometimes, a scent or a sound pulls him back—a whiff of gun oil, the barking of an order, or the distant hum of machinery.

Similarly, there are times when the world around him feels unreal, as if he’s moving through a dream. His hands—flesh and metal—don’t always feel like they belong to him. His reflection in a window might move out of sync, or worse, he sees his younger self staring back, before everything went wrong.

The derealisation can sometimes lead to Bucky losing time. He can zone out entirely—losing minutes, hours, sometimes even days—staring at a wall, or going about a day-to-day routine while operating on autopilot, caught somewhere between the past and present.

Extreme pain can also trigger Bucky's dissociative episodes, however, this hasn't happened since his arm was blown off as he hasn't allowed anyone to hurt him that badly since. Bucky has trained himself to recognise the signs of a dissociative episode and is capable of pulling himself out of it using coping strategies and techniques, but it can sometimes take time to do so.

there was no undoing what had happened to them, the world or fate or simply the harsh reality, was that it would stay with them for as long as they lived. but there was a means to overcome it. to survive and live despite the violence, the pain, and the horror of it all. she wasn't too far gone to come back to something—someone—more. it was hopelessly optimistic to believe it, and bucky knew better than most that believing it was sometimes harder than even living it, but if he could do it, then so could she.

❝ all we can do is try, ❞ he said, with the same heavy quiet that had wrapped itself around her voice. try, fail, fail again. he wasn't saying that it would be easy, but then, nothing in either of their lives had ever been easy.

bucky holstered the weapon he'd taken from her in his waistband, casting one last glance at the dead man at their feet. blood had pooled around his corpse. ❝ time to go. ❞ he said, voice louder now, something like conviction laced into his words. ❝ i know how to start. ❞

the breath she took felt foreign,  like she had forgotten how to hold air in her lungs without bracing for the next strike.  the world had been sharp edges for so long — missions  &  orders,  blood  &  consequence — that the thought of something mundane felt almost laughable.  help someone with their bags? walk someone across the street? the absurdity of it settled in her chest like a stone,  heavy  &  unfamiliar.  she had spent so long being shaped into something unrecognizable,   &  now he was telling her to rebuild herself with the smallest,  gentlest things.   

she wanted to scoff,  to tell him she wasn’t built for kindness anymore,  that her hands only knew how to take,  how to destroy.  but she swallowed the words.  because she had seen it in him — something she had thought impossible.  the way his presence no longer carried the same weight as before,  how the ghosts still walked beside him but did not dictate his every step.   &  if he could be more than what they had made him,  then maybe — just maybe — she could too.   

her fingers curled,  then flexed,  as if testing the weight of an idea she had never dared to hold.  ❝ &  if it doesn’t work?❞  she asked,  voice barely above a whisper.  but beneath it,  buried in the quiet,  was the real question:  &  if i don’t deserve it?