Something In His Chest Seemed To Kick Like A Live Wire When She Laughed. It Had A Dangerous Kind Of Confidence

seven deadly sins manifestation .

[ WRATH ] — he's always embodied wrath most naturally, before Hydra and before even the war, he has always been filled with fury towards those who abuse their power, who bully and belittle, and who harm. His wrath has only grown and become harsher, more precise and more person. He doesn’t just fight; he punishes. His control can slip, and the Winter Soldier’s brutality can emerge. Beneath this is another kind of anger—self-directed. He hates himself for what he did and for what he became.

[ SLOTH ] — he struggles with motivation, not because he doesn't care, but because caring hurts. There are days when he feels numb, when the weight of his past makes getting up and existing unbearable. He tries to force himself to act, to fight, but he rarely lets himself live. His sloth manifests in how he avoids emotional connections and vulnerability. He keeps people at arms length, afraid to form bonds, convincing himself he's better off alone to avoid the pain of attachment. At his lowest, sloth manifests as self-neglect—skipping meals, avoiding sleep, refusing to take care of himself because, at times, he doesn't see the point.

[ GREED ] — he doesn't and has never sought material wealth, his greed manifests in hoarding whatever peace he can find. He doesn’t trust easily, so when he does find something safe—a quiet corner of a city, a person who doesn’t look at him with fear, a cafe he feels comfortable—he clings to it. Similarly, he clings to sentimental objects and items, carries remnants of his past life as if letting go of them would erase what little he has left. His dog tags, Steve's old notebook and vinyls, letters from his sister stolen from the Smithsonian.

[ PRIDE ] — his pride is a double-edged sword. On one hand, he refuses help, believing he must atone for his past alone. He resists leaning on others, convinced that his redemption is his burden alone to carry which manifests in his lone-wolf vigilantism—he doesn’t want others involved, fearing they’ll get hurt or that they’ll see him as beyond saving. On the other hand, he struggles to accept kindness because, deep down, he doesn’t believe he deserves it. He seems constantly at odds with himself, proud of his skills and his abilities but ashamed of how he learned them.

[ ENVY ] — he struggles with envy. Feels it for those who live ordinary lives, who haven't experienced war, who retain innocence and optimism, who hold true to idealism and believe in humanity, kindness, love. He feels removed from these things, undeserving, robbed of being capable of it all and it can taint his interactions with people. He doesn't resent them, but there's a deep ache in him, a longing for a life he feels he'll never have.

[ GLUTTONY ] — isn't about food or indulgence with Bucky, instead it's about excess as a coping mechanism. He pushes himself too hard—training until his body aches, throwing himself into fights as if pain can make up for the past. He overindulges in isolation, in punishment, in guilt. He engages in violence not just for justice but because, in the heat of a fight, he feels something. His gluttony is about extremes—pushing himself too far, taking too much responsibility, refusing to allow himself balance.

[ LUST ] — It took a long time for Bucky to remember what desire really felt like, and even longer to let himself feel it without resistance. Lust for Bucky is about craving connection but fearing it at the same time. He wants closeness, but intimacy requires vulnerability, and vulnerability is dangerous. He yearns for it but when faced with the chance, he pulls away. His lust, then, is suppressed, redirected. He fights instead of embracing. He runs instead of reaching out. And in the rare moments he allows himself closeness, he does so like a man expecting it to be ripped away.

tagged by : @sangiusd3vil ♡ tagging : @memuntos ( zahra ), @staticveil , @disasteregyptologist , @kenosky , @d4ughter , @executiioner , @ru5t , @skiesfield and anyone else that would like to do it ♡

the engine ticks as he killed it, too loud in a place where things came to die. she was already halfway out the door, frustration wrapped around her like a second skin as she held her phone high in an effort to get cell service. it was futile, but bucky didn't mention it as he climbed out of the drivers seat. he stayed by the car, pale gaze sweeping their surroundings slowly.

the cornfield surroundings swayed slowly in the distance as he scanned the tree line, but there was nothing but silhouettes and the taste of rain. the place didn't have a name, and it hadn't shown on the GPS, let alone on any map he'd studied. he glanced back at her. maria wasn't wrong. friendly conversations really weren't his thing, but he didn't like the idea of her walking into the gas station alone. something about the town felt wrong. it felt like the kind of nowhere place that people disappeared into.

❝ so you can do the talking, ❞ bucky said as he shut the drivers side door and locked it. ❝ and i'll stock up on roadtrip junkfood. ❞ // @castlevowed , continued from here .

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLIDER (2014) dir. Anthony & Joe Russo

the city skyline loomed like a jagged promise against the night. towers rising in stark defiance to the darkness, splayed in neon and halogen lights. the unlikely pair had a clear line of sight overlooking the flashing red and blue lights and crowd of uniformed officers that poured in and out of the warehouse below. what was left of the trafficking ring—those that could still walk at least—were escorted into armored vans in cuffs.

❝  sometimes, complexity can be exhausting. ❞

she wasn't wrong. he'd been chasing down a missing persons lead, a reasonably mundane operation that had quickly turned into something else when their paths had crossed. but the exhaustion that filled her voice ran deeper than a random night of vigilante justice.

❝  so simplify it. ❞ bucky said, as if life was that easy. ❝ forget the politics, the debts. just focus on the job . . . and maybe a drink after. ❞ he added as an afterthought. // @waruins , altered carbon prompt .

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 .

amelia holmes talked fast, and thought faster. words spilled out like she was five moves ahead and barely waiting for the rest of the world to catch up. bucky had seen minds like hers before—brilliant, untethered, always running at a pace most people couldn't follow. he let her talk. let her lay out her theory, the threads of logic she w as weaving together, the patterns only she seemed to see. he didn't interrupt. just watched. listened. measured every word against the instincts that kept him alive longer than they had any right to.

a pause as she took a breath and only then did she seem to notice that he hadn't responded. not yet anyway.

❛ don't worry, i'm not crazy. least, i don't think so. ❜

bucky held her gaze for a beat. the ghost of something unreadable in his expression as he waited. maybe she wasn't crazy, or maybe she was just the kind of crazy that made sense to him. but he'd learned early on that sanity was subjective.

❝ i don't care if you're crazy, ❞ bucky said finally, ❝ i care if you're right. ❞ because if she was, and he thought she was, then a lot of people were in danger and the only people who had any clue, was them. // @tcbefearless / amelia , silent hill prompts .

he leaned back in the booth, the vinyl creaking under his weight and his gaze steady on her as she studied their surroundings. he let her words settle, let the silence stretch between them, thick as the late-night air. i see a place that doesn't need me. he knew that feeling well. places like this didn't wait, didn't give a damn who walked through the door or who never came back.

she searched his face, looking for something, but bucky had spent years making sure people found nothing. still, she pressed, peeling at the edges, pulling at the threads to get to the center of it all. ❝ it's part of the idea, ❞ he acknowledged, ❝ you sit down, you exist for a while, and none of it hinges on who you used to be. ❞ he tapped a finger against the table absently. ❝ no history, no past weighing you down, just now. ❞

there was more to it, other bits and pieces he was able and willing to share, but not yet. for now, he wanted her to sit with it. the concept of existing in a space that so many others did as well. the waitress, a woman pushing late fifties with greying hair around her temples and a friendly smile despite the shadows of exhaustion around her eyes, poured them both cups of burned coffee and encouraged them to view the specials menu. he thanked her. mundane. ordinary. human.

her gaze swept the room,  taking in the flickering neon sign reflected in the window,  the linoleum scuffed from years of tired footsteps,  the old man nursing a cup of coffee like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.  it smelled like burnt grease  &  something sweet,  like pie left too long under a heat lamp.   

❝i see a place that doesn’t need me.❞  the words felt like they weren’t meant to be spoken aloud,  but they slipped past her lips anyway,  quieter than she intended.  her fingers curled,  then relaxed against the edge of the table.  ❝but you brought me here anyway.❞ a beat.  a breath.  ❝why?❞

she searched his face,  looking for something — an answer,  maybe,  or proof that he had one.  there was something careful in the way he watched her,  something patient,  like he knew she’d get there on her own if he just gave her time.  but she didn’t want time.  she wanted to understand.   

her gaze dropped to her hands,  the way they rested against the tabletop,  steady but foreign.  ❝places like this…❞ she started,  then exhaled,  shaking her head.  ❝they exist with or without us.  people come in,  sit down,  drink their coffee,  complain about the weather.  it doesn’t matter what we’ve done,  or where we’ve been.  we could disappear,   &  this place would go on like we were never here at all.❞

her voice was even,  but there was something frayed at the edges of it.  she wasn’t sure if she wanted to believe it or if the thought of it terrified her.  her eyes found his again.  ❝is that the idea?❞

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?"

Criminal Sentences, Vol. 25

(Sentences from various sources for criminals and/or dangerous muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"I want to liberate your truest self: the beast that prowls around your heart."

"A wise man would walk away from this house and make a concerted effort to forget everything that occurred last night."

"We had an arrangement. You don't come here."

"Don't play games. I'm not in the mood."

"I'm not so easy to kill."

"I really want to apologise for, you know, the massive crime I've committed."

"The thing is, what you're asking, it isn't easy - and it sure isn't free."

"Are you worried I'm going to shoot him or something?"

"The next time you come in here without my permission, you and me are going to have a problem."

"Listen, I have just left a very enjoyable evening with some old friends to come and murder a hired contract killer for you, so let's tone down the judgement a tad, shall we?"

"I think if you wanted to kill me, you'd have done it already."

"Everyone has their weaknesses. Don't mind me as I find yours."

"You should know that I've had eyes on you recently, so I know everything."

"I've always been preternaturally inclined to violence. I was exposed to it from an early age."

"What were you trying to prove by doing this? Just showing me that you're good at sneaking into places you're not wanted? I already knew that!"

"I've tasted success, and it's a meal I now wish to devour."

"Holy christ, you're a morbid fuck!"

"I'll be sure to call next time I need someone threatened."

"You have no sense of the terrors I will bring onto you."

"You don't even know what you're dealing with, do you?"

"Some of us get harder as we get older, and some of us get soft."

"Who the hell are you to order me around?"

"You're not going to survive coming after me."

"People like you and me, we don't get to ride off into the sunset - but we get to stay around and watch the stars come out, and that's not nothing, I suppose."

"We don't have to trust each other, we don't even have to like each other, but we have to work together on this."

"You should be more afraid of me."

"Death excites you, doesn't it?"

"Do you have to enjoy my discomfort quite so much?"

"Because I murder with will and not like a blind animal, you think me a monster. Yet, how many corpse have you left in your wake?"

"If you want my help, you'll do as I ask."

"Do not fool yourself; you cannot lie to me."

"You're a very suspicious person."

"Do you still have that rocket launcher?"

"Do you carry a knife everywhere now?"

"You offer me a normal life. Why do you think I want that anymore?"

"Why are you consulting with that traitor?"

"That's really not the legal loophole you think it is."

"I just realised what you're most afraid of."

he watched the scene unfold below, the flashing red and blue lights bouncing off the steel edges of the city. it was a familiar sight, one he'd seen in different lifetimes, different wars, in different cities. he should've felt something—satisfaction, maybe—but all he got was the dull ache of knowing it was never really enough.

bucky turned his focus to the woman beside him as she weighed the moment. he recognized that weight, the hunger to do more, to make it mean something. her words aren't unkind, but they were edged with the exhaustion of someone who couldn't remember why they were fighting, but kept fighting anyway.

❝ no, they don't, ❞ he agreed, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. he doesn't say what he's thinking—that soldiers don't mix with anything. not politics, not peace, not with the kind of life that doesn't have bloodstains on the edges.

he feels her question before she asks it. instinct, not obligation. a stocked medkit, a place to come down from the night, a moment to breathe. she's killed for the right reasons, but she still wanted to save something. ❝ nothing serious, ❞ he said, ❝ but i'm not saying no to the scotch. ❞

it's  all  bittersweet,  a  feeling  familiar  like  the  ache  from  fading  adrenaline.  VIOLENCE  WITH  A  JUSTIFIED  MEANS  TO  AN  END,  but  it  never  ends  ─  not  really.  sisyphus  and  a  boulder  actually  worth  something,  pissing  off  every  white  suit  that  holds  themselves  as  gods  but  never  lifts  a  finger  to  make  a  change.  reflection  caught  in  her  gaze,  the  swarm  of  humans  corralled  like  animals  finally  tasting  freedom  after  who  knows  how  long.  IT'S  NOT  ENOUGH,  SHE  WANTS  TO  DO  MORE.

she  was  never  meant  for  it.  soft  innards  of  a  poet  armoured  up  and  made  a  weapon.  ❛  soldiers  and  politics  don't  mix  anyway.  ❜  it's  a  spark  of  wryness  chuffed  out.  ❛  a  drink  sounds  perfect,  i  owe  you.  ❜  a  hollow  grin  holds  so  much  warmth  at  the  edges,  eyes  that  start  from  his  feet  and  assess  her  way  up  to  his  eyes.

❛  you  hurt?  ❜  that's  a  glimpse  of  true  nature.  the  reflex  of  wanting  to  do  more  good  than  all  the  wrongs  she's  ever  committed.  ❛  the  gym's  a  few  blocks  away  and  i  keep  a  full  stocked  medkit  with  a  side  of  scotch.  ❜