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#sam wilson is a gift
bemydoctor · 1 year
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The Cold Shadow
Title: The Cold Shadow
Summary: Bucky is sinking slowly. He is overwhelmed by negative thoughts of the worst kind. Trouble is, he can’t climb back up on his own. Fortunately for him, he doesn’t have to.
Characters: Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson
Trigger warnings: sleep deprivation, alcohol and drug abuse, thoughts of suicide and self-harm, mention of blood, depression, PTSD, mentions of nightmares and night terrors
Other tags: Language, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sad!Bucky, Crying!Bucky, Sam Wilson is a good friend, Bucky Barnes needs a hug, Bucky Barnes gets a hug, Bucky Barnes feels
Notes: Dealing with PTSD is a roller coaster. There are ups and downs, good moments and bad ones. This fic is in no way insinuating that he will miraculously get better after an episode like this. It’s just a chapter on his journey to recovery. It puts him on a path that is hopefully forward and maybe we can hope the next drop of this roller coaster won’t sent him as far back down and he will be better prepared to deal with it and ask for help. All my knowledge on the subject comes from TV shows or other works of fiction besides Google and YouTube, and not from any sort of professional qualification or personal experience. Edited by myself. Please message me if you find anything I might have missed.
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44369254/chapters/111587995
Words: 4016
>---<
Bucky listed to the side slowly, eyelids drifting close. His sluggish brain’s delayed response was to get his body upright again.
He blinked blearily, feeling like he was glued to the floor, as if gravity had increased tenfold turning his limbs to lead. His metal arm was so heavy it was just a useless hunk of metal beside him. Moving the fingers on that hand too much of an effort to even bother trying. Anyone who saw it would think it wasn’t even properly connected to his body.
Sometimes, his head would start falling, eyes rolling to the back. On occasion he would catch himself, forcing his mind to work for long enough to lift it again. It wouldn’t stay like that for long and gravity would soon resume its course. Usually, however, it was his head abruptly falling forward and almost hitting his bent knees that would get him to snap it up again. Not too much though. There wasn’t enough energy left in him to get him very far.
He tried to keep his eyelids from drooping, to at least keep them a sliver apart. The tiny slit of blue from the wall across from him slowly getting thinner and thinner. No amount of trying would get him to pry them open again.
A particularly sudden fall of his head woke him. He sluggishly raised it back, getting it to a position it wouldn’t take too much effort to keep it up.
If he had the energy, he would smile for finally getting his mind empty enough to make everything go numb. No amount of alcohol, pills or needles had managed that, his super soldier metabolism too fast to let any of that have any effect. For a moment he had even considered cutting himself. Maybe blood loss would be able to get him there. But then the exhaustion from several unslept days made him consider this.
His dreams had gotten bad enough that sleep was even more torture than wakefulness. Of course, being awake meant thinking too much, feeling too much, hurting too much. But sleeping was even worse. Without any barriers, his subconscious would take over and the nightmares were at a point in which waking up was getting more and more difficult leaving him stuck in a never-ending loop of terror. He would wake up with a sob, drenched in sweat, face covered with tears, lungs sucking in so much air it felt he would pass out straight back to sleep.
So he gave up on sleep altogether.
And right now, because of that, he felt like heaven.
His mind could barely come up with the idea of keeping his body from falling down. Any and all thought had drifted away several hours ago. He was floating in clouds. Finally at peace.
Was this what it would have felt like if the needles had worked?
A deep sense of calm overwhelmed him. He wished he could stay there forever. To just drift away and never wake up again.
Finally be free.
>---<
Sam called Bucky’s name again, his banging on the door more frantic this time.
“Bucky, I know you are in there. Open the door.”
He waited a few beats.
He banged more insistently. “You can’t hide from me, I’m tracking your phone.” More seconds passed. “Bucky, if you don’t open this door, I swear to god I’ll kick it open.”
Still nothing.
Sam sighed. His concern had turned to annoyance when Bucky wouldn’t open the door, but the silence brought the worry back, fiercer than before. This didn’t feel right.
Yes, Bucky would ignore him. He would make Sam wait and knock several times. He would ignore him away, then grumble and groan but would eventually open the door, if only to grunt at Sam and tell him to leave.
Sam shook his head, trying to keep his voice level.
“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said as a last attempt to ease the worry away.
He tried the doorknob, not surprised to see it locked. He looked around the nearly empty street. He lowered himself and looked under the mat, finding nothing there. He tried the empty pots on the dead garden next to the entrance and under the rocks nearby.
“Shit!” he swore under his breath.
He would imagine Bucky to be the type to have more than one lock, so even if Sam managed to pick the obvious one, there would be others on the inside.
Sam took in a deep breath and decided to try the window. It was higher than he would have liked but he eventually managed to get it open. He looked around again, hoping no one had called the cops on him.  
He jumped through. “Bucky?”
He continued across the empty living space not seeing much out of place until he stopped by the kitchen counter. It was littered with empty whisky and pill bottles scattered around. He picked up a rubber tourniquet, the kind used to give someone an injection. He saw the empty syringes inside the sink and ominous thoughts swam through his mind.
He forced his legs to move again, his heart now hammering in his chest. He turned into the corridor that led to the bedroom then rushed to his friend’s side.
“Bucky!”
Shaky hands hovered over the limp form on the floor. For a moment he retracted them, too scared to proceed. He swallowed thickly and took in the sight of his friend. No obvious signs of injury or smells that could indicate he had overdosed. He wasn’t even clammy. In fact, he was still breathing. Not only that, but his breaths were deep and steady, and Sam realized the man was asleep. Really very asleep.
“Hey, Bucky!” he whispered, trying not to touch him. When he got no response, he tried again, this time in his normal tone. “Buck, wake up!”
Bucky hadn’t even changed his breathing rhythm. Sam took in a deep breath, resisting the urge to call an ambulance. He remembered the empty bottles of medicine on the counter. They wouldn’t have worked on him. He knew super soldiers couldn’t keep drugs in their systems for long enough for them to have any effect. Not without an elephant-sized dose on a constant IV drip.
But that didn’t mean the man wouldn’t try. If he was desperate enough.
“Hey, Buck, it’s Sam.” He touched his friend’s shoulder gently. “Bucky!” He shook him slightly.
No response. He let out a shuddering breath.
Sam shook him. “Wake up, Bucky!” he said more loudly.
This time, he noticed a slight change and the dread started to fade away. Bucky was alright. Just sleeping.
“C’mon, man. Just wake up.”
Sam tapped Bucky’s cheeks which seemed to rouse him a bit. He continued tapping away, not stopping even after he saw eyes squinting and a moan escaping his lips.
“That’s right, open your eyes for me.” He stopped his ministrations to look at him.
When it seemed like Bucky would fall right back to sleep, Sam continued slapping the man gently.
“Ngh.”
A pathetic arm movement that Sam could only guess it was Bucky’s attempt at waving him off made Sam grab Bucky’s chin to turn his head at him.
“Don’t go all lazy on me. Open your eyes.” he said firmly.
“Shhh. Go ‘way.”
Sam grabbed the limp man’s arm and forced him to a sitting position. Bucky slumped a bit and Sam pulled him back up again. Bucky’s reluctance was making Sam’s worry climb up his esophagus. He swallowed it back down. When Bucky started relaxing again Sam held him upright.
“Na, uh. Stay!” Sam commanded.
“M not a puppy,” he slurred.
“Then stop behaving like one. Now open your damn eyes!”
Eyelids fluttered for a few moments before slowly prying open. Bleary eyes blinked slowly, seeming to have difficulty focusing on him.
“Hey,” he said softly. Sam lifted the man’s chin and looked into his eyes, one at a time. He didn’t see anything that would normally worry him.
They started to close again.
“No. Keep looking at me.” Sam continued to search Bucky’s eyes for anything of concern.
Bucky finally focused on him. His brows drew together in annoyance. He rubbed his eyes then had to gall to pout his lips like a petulant child.
“What the hell, man? What happened?”
“I was taking a nap! What does it look like?” He waved around.
“Here? On the floor? In the middle of the corridor?”
Bucky shrugged. “Good place as any,” he murmured.
“What about, I don’t know, the bed?” Sam waved his arms around towards the bedroom.
Bucky brought his knees up against his chest and looped his arms around them. He supported his head on them. “Why are you here?” he said tiredly.
“Because I was worried about you. I’ve been texting and calling you for days!” He sat down in front of him. “Jesus, Bucky, I thought you were dead!”
He lifted his head. “Well, obviously I’m not. Now, will you leave?”
Sam sighed and ran a hand over his face. He looked at Bucky, examining him. The dark circles under his eyes, disheveled hair, unkept beard, and he didn’t need to sniff the air to know he hadn’t showered in days. His heart sank.
Bucky huffed. “Why are you still here?”
“Bucky, please, talk to me. I want to help.”
“Then leave me the fuck alone!” He shook his shoulder away from the hand Sam was about to place there.
Sam shook his head. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say, Sam?” His voice cracked and Sam’s heart also cracked a little along with it.
“You need to let me help you, Bucky.”
>---<
Sam moved to sit next to him then just stayed there by his side, their bodies touching. Bucky felt Sam’s body heat and released a shuddering breath, resisting the urge to lean onto him. For several moments Sam was a constant solid presence that wouldn’t let go. “You are not getting rid of me,” he said.
Bucky hid his face on his hands. For several moments, his entire existence was solely focused on getting a hold of himself and yet the vice grip around his chest wouldn’t let go. He felt it tighten and spread all over his body like a cold shadow that turned everything into misery. The pressure inside his head was getting stronger and stronger until it turned into tears that started to sting at his eyes. He suppressed a sniffle and tried to breathe through it but his eyes continued getting wetter by the minute. He started trembling and couldn’t stop himself.
A warm hand circled around his back. Bucky felt himself lose control when the gentle touch pulled him for an embrace. He let himself breakdown for no other reason than the fact he no longer had the energy to hold back. He buried himself on Sam’s shoulder and simply let go. The hand rubbed circles on his back through his tremors, but it only made the weeping turn into desperate sobs.
He gripped tightly and gave up fighting the tsunami of emotions that flooded out of him. He felt himself unable to stop. Every single tear that his body had ever produced overflowed out of him along with all the snot and spit too. He shook uncontrollably and wrapped his hands around Sam.
Sam held him through wails that felt like it would never end. Every single bad emotion that had clung to his chest over the last several weeks, months, years, being washed away.
Time seemed to have stopped. He didn’t know how long it lasted. He felt like he had been sucked into a vortex and come out the other side dazed and muddled. He sniffed away the last few sobs and broke away from Sam, still shaking, feeling a weird sort of disconnect between himself and his body. He was exhausted. Everything moved too slowly. He sat on the floor, shoulders hunched down, mind numb.
“You good?”
Bucky nodded, not trusting his voice to work.
“Why don’t you take a shower? That will help, ok?”
Bucky nodded again, too tired to argue.
Sam stood then an arm appeared in Bucky’s field of vision. He took the arm and gingerly got up onto his feet. Sam held onto him until he was sure he wouldn’t fall.
Bucky walked timidly, still feeling out of sorts. When he got into the bathroom, the water was already running.
“Do you need any help?”
Bucky shook his head and supported his weight against the sink, looking away.
“Okay,” Sam said before he left, leaving the door open.
Bucky shed his clothes and stepped under the stream, the hot water easing the knots he hadn’t realized he had. For several minutes that’s all that he did. He breathed through the numbness and eventually managed to find the energy to scrub himself.
By the time he was finished, he could barely keep himself upright.  He put on the clean pair of sweatpants Sam had left for him at some point during his stupor.
He turned his head slowly when he heard footsteps approaching.
“Hungry? I made you an omelet.”
Bucky shrugged.
“C’mon. It’s ready.”
He sighed, too spent to do anything else. Sam had gone through all that trouble; he might as well try. He dragged his feet all the way to the stool behind the counter where the plate was laid out.
He managed to take a few bites before he found himself unable to swallow any more. He pushed the plate away, looking sheepishly at Sam.
“What about the juice?” Sam looked at him across from the counter.
Bucky forced a few gulps down then put the glass down, surprised to find it empty.
Sam rounded the counter. “C’mon. Time for bed.”
“I’m not a child,” Bucky muttered, shaking his shoulder to get Sam’s hand off.
The comment seemed to have no effect because Sam continued to supervise Bucky all the way into the bedroom. Bucky practically collapsed onto the bed.
“You don’t need to tuck me in too,” he mumbled, even though Sam was already pulling a blanket over him.
He really wanted to complain again, but his eyes were already closing and whatever it was he was going to say, he figured it must be less important than the gentle pull of sleep.
>---<
He woke up surrounded by gentle darkness. A faint light came through the window and Bucky figured it must be nearly morning.
He stared at the ceiling.
It was weird. He felt well rested. His body was relaxed, and his mind refreshed. He tried to remember the last time he felt that way.
He couldn’t.
Then, memories came back to him. The bottles, the pills, the syringes. Sleep depriving himself for days in the hopes of a short reprieve. The thoughts of maybe not waking up again.
And Sam.
He shuffled to the edge of the bed and placed his bare feet down, standing up. He realized his bladder was nearly bursting so he made his way to the bathroom.
After he was done, he followed the faint light and stepped into the living room, finding Sam sitting on the lone armchair in the middle of the room, reading his copy of The Hobbit. Upon hearing Bucky’s footsteps, he looked up, putting the book down.
“Hey, sleepyhead.” He stood. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” he said, failing to contain the annoyed edge to his voice. He shouldn’t be annoyed. Sam was trying to help.
He walked over to the stool and sat down, noticing that all trash had vanished from his place. He also saw that his sink was empty and that the marble had been scrubbed clean. His shoulders sank.
“You didn’t have to clean up.”
Sam walked over to him. “Yes, I had. This place was disgusting.” He moved over to the fridge. “Hungry? I can heat up the rest of that omelet.”
Bucky scratched the back of his head. “What time is it? How long was I out?”
Despite Bucky’s lack of an answer, Sam had taken the omelet out of the fridge and was putting it in the microwave. “I don’t think you want to know the answer to the second question, but it is now sunrise.”
Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “You stayed here all night? Where did you sleep?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Sam shrugged and placed the food in front of Bucky.
Bucky slumped his shoulders, guilt and shame seeping into him. “I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do any of that. Shouldn’t have.” He looked down at the steaming plate, the smell making his stomach growl. “Not for me, anyway,” he continued softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course I had to. You’re my friend, Bucky.”
Bucky looked up at him finding it hard to find any words.
He looked down again. “Why?”
Sam chuckled. “What do you mean why?”
He sighed. “Well…” He looked straight at Sam. “The first time you saw me, I ripped the steering wheel off your car before crashing it with you still inside. The second time, I tore your wing out then kicked you down to what should have been your death. Then the third time, after blowing up a tunnel on top of you, I knocked you out, trying to escape custody.” He ran a hand over his face. “Do I need to continue?”
Sam laughed.
The man actually laughed.
“Yeah, but that wasn’t you.”
Bucky shook his head.
He grabbed the fork and started to pick at his omelet, suddenly finding himself too hungry to continue the conversation.
“C’mon. After you finish up, get changed. We’re going out.”
Bucky whipped his head up. “Where are we going?”
Sam waved at his fridge. “You need stuff. Besides three eggs, all you had inside was an empty carton of milk. An empty one. What kind of animal puts an empty carton back into the fridge?”
Bucky decided his eggs were more interesting and was in the middle of stabbing it with a fork when an alarm went off. He looked at the direction it was coming from, seeing his phone next to the TV, blinking and blaring at him.
“Ah, yes. I took the liberty of setting up a few alarms on your phone.”
“What for?” Bucky asked making his way to silence the damn thing. He unlocked it and saw a series of alarms programed into it, all with different names. This one was for waking up. The next one for breakfast. There was one for cleaning, showering, cooking...
“So you don’t forget to take care of yourself.”
Bucky continued to scroll through, finding his entire routine loosely timed out for him. He ground his teeth. “How did you even unlock it?”
Sam smiled. “Did you know you are a very heavy sleeper?”
Bucky slumped back onto the stool and tossed his phone aside.
“Look,” Sam started. “I just want to make sure you don’t spiral out of control again. Keeping a routine might help. And if you hate it, you can always change it to something you like.”
Bucky let go of his fork, suddenly having lost his appetite.
“Keeping busy is a great way to stop thinking about things you shouldn’t be thinking about,” Sam continued. “Keeping a stocked fridge, having stuff inside your place, doing something you like.”
“I don’t need stuff,” he mumbled.
“Yes, you do. You need shelves.” He waved at an empty wall. “Then you need stuff to put on the shelves.” He pointed at an empty space on the floor. “You also need a couch. You know why I didn’t sleep? Because you got nowhere for me to.” He paused. “You need a coffee table. Some magazines to put on it. A side table over there.” More pointing. “And then some more stuff to put on it. Some pictures on the walls would be nice. Some plants that aren’t dead, knickknacks, throw pillows, I don’t know, whatever it takes to make this place feel like it’s yours.” He walked closer to him. “I can help you with all of that. You don’t even need to ask.” He tilted his head. “In fact, I insist. And if you don’t go shopping with me, I’ll go by myself and buy everything on my own and have it delivered. Possibly choosing the worst possible color.”
Bucky finally looked up at him.
“When you wake up and open your eyes, you will find yourself somewhere that feels like it belongs to you. Not an empty shell.”
“What if I can’t stop thinking, Sam?” His tone was quiet, defeated. He slumped even further onto the stool.
“Then you can talk to me.” He took a deep breath. “If reading a book, going to the movies and cooking dinner won’t work, you call me. Talk to me, yell at me, doesn’t matter, just don’t keep everything in then try to pour it out in all the wrong ways.”
Bucky suddenly felt his chest constricting again and had to breathe through several times to get himself back under control. “I don’t know how.” His voice still sounded hoarse.
“Then I’ll help you. Because that’s what friends do.” Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are not in this alone and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you were.”
Tears started to sting at his eyes. He blinked them away. He still felt like he didn’t deserve any of it. He certainly didn’t deserve Sam.
He sniffed and wiped away the tears. He was tired. He was bone tired of always feeling like his body weighed a hundred tons. That every step was a chore and that every moment that he lived was one he didn’t deserve. He was tired of thinking, he was tired of feeling, he was tired of being miserable. He looked up at Sam.
“Can you try that for me?”
Bucky shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t know.”
“C’mon. Get dressed.”
Bucky looked out of the window. “It’s too early.”
“You’ll be surprised how early some places open.”
He didn’t know that was true or not but he knew there was no fighting him. Sam would keep bugging him and bossing him around so he just complied.
“Fine.”
>---<
The door closed behind him and Bucky made his way to the kitchen. Sam walked over to the counter and placed the shopping bags down, Bucky following suit. There were too many things, in way too many bags, what seemed like an excessive amount of food for someone that grew up during the Great Depression. Bucky placed his hands on the counter and just stared.
Sam started to take packages out of the bags and spreading them around. “Are you going to help or not?”
By the time they were done, cupboards were full and the fridge fully stocked. Everything from canned foods that could feed him for a year, to just enough vegetables to last a week.
“I still don’t think it was all necessary.”
Sam ignored his comment, talking the items that weren’t food over near the armchair. He looked back at Bucky then let go of the stack of books and magazines on what seemed like an imaginary coffee table. The items scattered across the floor.
There was something about the scene that almost made Bucky chuckle, but he resisted the urge.
“Come on. You thought that was funny. Admit it.”
Bucky glared at him. “Hilarious.”
“Yes, it was.”
Sam was now grinning, his unwavering smile lighting up the room. Bucky failed to keep his lip from quirking slightly upwards. He rested his hands on his hips and shook his head, lowering it until his chin touched his chest.
“That was so fucking stupid.”
Sam raised a shoulder. “Whatever works, man.”
Bucky let himself finally smile. It wasn’t a grin, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was the smile from someone that was finally feeling warm air after weeks of being freezing cold.
“Thanks, Sam.”
>---<
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itzjulianajj · 1 year
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He finally got the arm y’all! 😆🥳
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Nebula really went to earth to steal a semi-stable 106 year old’s prosthetic arm.
A few days before:
Nebula, chasing Bucky around the boat: GIVE ME YOUR ARM BARNES
Bucky, frantically running around the boat: NO WHY DO YOU EVEN NEED IT
Nebula: FOR THE RACCOONS CHRISTMAS PRESENT!
Sam, eating popcorn: Punch his shoulder a few times, it’ll fall right off.
Bucky, being punched repeatedly by Nebula: SAM!
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nocek · 1 year
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Aaaand I've managed to finish it on time by the end of christmas season / on time for orthodox one? Happy ugly sweater season anyway regardless what you celebrate.
Main idea here is that they are having great holiday marathon of old spy films curated by Nat. Also she and Bucky are providing reality check for the dumb shit happening while giving lived through examples of reality being even stupider sometimes ;P
Also I headcanon (does it count as a headcanon if it's my drawing?idk) that either after last year sweater fiasco few aunts in Sam's quite big family decided to fix that while taking inspiration from their superhero costumes. Or that actually Bucky took up knitting because it requires a lot of repetitive and very precise hand movements and it helps him notice when his hand may need a tune up.
Clear lineart version is here and there is a close up below the cut ;)
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sambuckylibrary · 5 months
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SamBucky Gift Event 2023!
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The @sambuckylibrary will be holding a gift event!
Just make a SamBucky fic, podfic, moodboard, gifset, piece of art, fic rec list, or edit for someone! Use one of our badges and tag @sambuckylibrary in your post for each fill. We will be tracking #sbgift2023 for reblogs.
No need for sign-up. No theme to the gift, but you can certainly make it holiday-themed if you would like to. All you need to do is gift your piece of SamBucky something to someone!
The event will start on December 1st and run until January 7th. During that time, we will be reblogging and sharing the work you guys create here on our blog.
If you are posting on AO3, please add it to the SamBucky Gift Event 2023 Collection.
The Badges are:
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FAQ
What is this?
It’s a SamBucky gift event.
Is there any pressure?
No pressure at all. No sign-up. Just give a gift to someone, use one of our badges, and tag @sambuckylibrary if you join the event.
How many gifts should I give? Can I give more than one gift to a person? Can I give one gift to multiple people?
Give one gift to one person. Give several gifts to one person. Give one gift to several people. Give a bunch of gifts to a bunch of people. Do however many you please and give to however many you'd like to.
Will you provide me a person to give a gift to?
We won't, but if you want to, you can always give your gift to the SamBucky Library.
Are there any prizes for making anything for this event?
Just the satisfaction that you made something cool.
Is it just SamBucky?
Yes please, just SamBucky. There can be side ships, but the main ship should be SamBucky.
How long will this event run?
It will run from December 1st and run until January 7th.
I heard there are badges I can use for each fill?
Yes! You can see them on this post if you scroll up.
RULES AND GUIDELINES
What are the guidelines for the bingo?
I will be borrowing some of this from the MYSU Valentine’s Day Bingo 2022 Guidelines, since they were fantastic.
For Everyone:
1. Remember to @sambuckylibrary in the post as well as #sbgift2023.
2. If you’re uploading to AO3, please:
a ) Say somewhere which prompt you’re filling.
b ) Add it to The SamBucky Gift Event 2023 Collection (SamBucky_Gift_Event_2023).
For Artists:
1. Create at least one piece of new art that can’t have been posted anywhere else before this.
2. All visual art forms are welcome:
a ) Gifsets, at least 3 gifs.
b ) Aesthetic boards or moodboards, at least 4 images each.
c ) Drawing/painting, that is not a sketch.
d) Fan video.
e) Graphics edit.
For Authors:
1. At least 500 words.
2. Posted on Tumblr or AO3.
3. Can be part of a series, but should work as a standalone.
For Podficcers:
1. The podfic should at least be 5 minutes long.
2. It should be posted on either Tumblr or AO3.
3. The podfic can be of a fic made for the event, a fic not made for the event while still adhering to the prompt, or a notfic.
For Fic Rec Lists:
1. You must have at least five fics or podfics on the rec list.
2. Make sure to give brief descriptions of the fics or podfics as well as their rating and wordcount.
Things to be mindful of when creating:
For Sam
Avoid framing Sam only as a caretaker or emotional support for Bucky. Be mindful of Sam acting angry or aggressive in an out-of-character way and falling into the angry/sassy Black man trope (check out the MCU source material to help with character traits).
Avoid decentering Sam as a main character and refrain from focusing entirely on Bucky.
In art: avoid whitewashing Sam’s skin and research drawing Black characters.
General disclaimer: Race affects every aspect of his life, including interacting with police/government and the white structures of the world when it comes to performing his duties as Cap and simply being a Black man that lives in the U.S.
For Bucky
Avoid phrasing “flesh/normal/human hand” to refer to the contrast between his prosthetic arm and his right arm. The phrasing is ableist. You can simply refer to his prosthesis when relevant, otherwise use “right/left arm/hand”.
For more information, please check out this document suggested by @ninesdb on how to write Bucky as an amputee. @ninesdb is also open to questions if you have any queries not answered by the google doc.
Specific Tags:
Avoid tags in AO3 like “Sam Wilson is a Gift”, “Sam Wilson is a Saint”, and “Bucky Needs a Hug”.
Have fun and we look forward to your SamBucky Summer Bingo fics!
- The Mods
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qveiis · 2 years
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hi guys
[bird app]
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xxlittle0birdxx · 1 year
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Bucky is a little indifferent about most holidays. And by a little indifferent, he means he can take or leave most of them after spending a good portion of his life as Popsicle Assassin.
And Valentine’s Day? No, thank you.
Enter one human sunflower named Sam Wilson.
Sam loves holidays. Bucky’s indifference makes him want to go all out. He starts sending presents a week in advance.
It starts with a bouquet of heart-shaped balloons. Bucky entertains the idea of using them for target practice with his favourite knife, but his upstairs neighbour has been ultra-snarky about noise ever since New Year’s Eve, and Sam and Bucky got a little enthusiastic about ringing in the new year. (She left a note on Bucky’s door telling him she didn’t mind if he watched those movies, but could he please turn the volume down?)
Next is a Wallace and Gromit style sheep plushie. It’s soft and fluffy. Bucky puts it in the middle of his bed, telling it it’s only for a little while, and don’t expect to stay there. (It’s still there at Thanksgiving…)
A bag of coffee beans from the place Bucky likes with a note to “Try the French press, old man.’ Bucky proceeds to make it in his old school percolator.
A box of chocolates. The ones that made Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head when they tried them a few months ago.
A bottle of ink for his fountain pen. And a box of fancy stationery. Because Bucky doesn’t do phone calls. But he writes letters to Sam.
On February 13, someone arrives with a grocery order. It’s all the ingredients for dishes that Bucky loves, especially when Sam cooks them.
On February 14, before Bucky even had his first cup of coffee, there’s a knock on the door. He answers the door dressed in his boxers and a pair of socks and nothing else.
It’s Sam.
He makes Bucky a dozen heart-shaped pancakes. The kind of mac and cheese that makes Bucky moan when he eats the first bite. His grandma’s gumbo. His mother’s red beans and rice. His titi’s cornbread.
Not once do the words, “I love you” cross his lips.
But Bucky knows.
And that’s how Valentine’s Day became his favourite holiday.
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scottxlogan · 2 months
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This story was written for the Scott Summers Bingo Secret Santa exchange. It was written for @endlesstwanted with this rare pair in mind as well. Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy your gift :)
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: X-Men - All Media Types, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Scott Summers/Sam Wilson (Marvel) Characters: Scott Summers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark Additional Tags: Romance, Undercover Missions, Partners to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Team Up, mission turns to romance, Implied/Referenced Sex, Morning After, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Morning Kisses Summary: When Scott Summers and Sam Wilson team up on a tropical island for an undercover job posing as lovers to take down the bad guy, the job was an overwhelming success. It's everything that they prepared for in catching the bad guy. Everything went exactly to plan except for catching feelings for one another along the way. Now after everything is said and done Scott reflects on what it means to find himself deeply attached to the sexy Avenger at his side.
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scottsummersbingo · 4 months
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The Holiday season is here and to kick things off for our Scott Summers Bingo Secret Santa event, we’re going to be sharing the gifts not only on our AO3 collection as they are added by the participating Secret Santas, but here on Tumblr to get others to head on over and check out some of the holiday fun happening!
The first Secret Santa gift in the collection that’s been submitted is for @endlesstwanted in a story featuring Scott Summers and Sam Wilson :)
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: X-Men - All Media Types, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Scott Summers/Sam Wilson (Marvel) Characters: Scott Summers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark Additional Tags: Romance, Undercover Missions, Partners to Lovers, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Team Up, mission turns to romance, Implied/Referenced Sex, Morning After, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Morning Kisses
Summary: When Scott Summers and Sam Wilson team up on a tropical island for an undercover job posing as lovers to take down the bad guy, the job was an overwhelming success. It's everything that they prepared for in catching the bad guy. Everything went exactly to plan except for catching feelings for one another along the way. Now after everything is said and done Scott reflects on what it means to find himself deeply attached to the sexy Avenger at his side.
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antvnger · 3 months
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“This,” Scott tells himself with a soft chuckle, “is literally the best keychain I own, hands down. From one of the best people I know too.”
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“Thank you, Sam! You’re awesome!” @mxtalwings
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sunnysideprincess · 9 months
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Steve's mysterious birthday gift
Post CACW, fluff, angst, sweet, no salt
There is an extra package sitting on top of the loosely assembled pile of gifts. He has counted them all one by one. Nat's beautiful, hand knitted shawl was delivered from India. Wanda's coloring book for adults came from Hamburg. Bucky's hand made (from goat hair?) brush set was delivered by a surly looking undercover Wakandan spy. While Sam's collection of records was handed by the man himself.
But this one, this tiny unassuming one gave Steve a pause. If his treacherous little heart was right—god, he hoped he was right, and it came from where he thinks it did? Then Steve swore to himself he wouldn't waste any more days staring at the horizon. Just waiting and yearning for the startling streak of red to appear.
But if he was wrong and this little silver box turned out to be a bomb or toxic package or a homing signal...
Sam nudged his ribs, eyes wide and worried.
"Want me to send it to the Dora?"
The thought of Wakandan security tearing this unknown thing apart sent a terrible shard of pain through his chest, making him snatch it from the pile in haste.
Ignoring Sam's surprised flinch, Steve tore through the packaging.
Inside was a carefully crafted pocket watch. A little silver thing with a key that stole his breath away. Cheap metal scarred over and over. The kind which was invaluable.
It was an expensive, terribly expensive gift. Not of money but of time and resources. He doesn't even know how the sender got his hands on it.
He had known it to be lost with many things. Forgotten. A passed away relic nobody cared about. The one thing his mother carried with her. Her last connection to the home she left behind when she came to Brooklyn. The remnant she had to pawn off to survive one of the harshest winters they had ever known.
Steve remembered talking about it under the influence of Thor's Asgardian drink. He recalled curious eyes, sharp and focused. Eyes of the man who knew the value of memories, but not money.
"Oh," Steve breathed over the watch, thumbed it along the edge. He closed his eyes and took a moment to send out a prayer for his mother. Then pressed his lips over the watch.
Sam's eyes were on his. His silence not prying, not pressing for answers like Nat would. Only eternally patient and calm like he always was.
"This was my mom's. Well, my Nana 's I think. She had to pawn it off before. I thought -" His words caught up in his throat, so he cleared his voice and tried again. "I didn't..."
He closed his eyes and laughed silently.
"God, Tony's just- he's so stupid."
They were worlds apart. Ripped away from each other by their own volition. Unable to reach out because Steve was a criminal and Tony was still hurting, still curling around the wound over his heart. And yet...
Yet ...
Steve could almost hear it whispered over the immortal flame of a lone candle. A hand that held a tiny burnt cupcake smelling too strongly of vanilla and orange. A man torn between the past and the present confronted by a man always looking at the future.
Sam held out a card for him, looking solemn and pained, and a little bit jealous.
Steve would come to mull over it later, about his friend's distant gaze settled over the sky and the gun metal greys of his wings.
But right then, he took the card with gentle care, saw the generic wish written in familiar chicken scratch and ended up staring at the idiotic frowny face at the bottom for a long time.
He felt warmth bloom across his chest. Like his mother's gaze. Bucky's hand on his shoulder. Nat's smile. Wanda's humming. Sam's steady wisdom.
It was a bit like morning hope.
The kind that brought a streak of red and gold.
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gotlostonmywayhome · 1 year
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The Awkward and the OnlyFans
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Pairing: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson Word Count: 3.5k Rating: Mature Tags: No Powers AU, Bookstore AU, Silver Fox Steve, Retired NFLer Steve, College Student Sam, Camboy Sam, Meet Ugly-ish, Masturbation
Summary:  A minor disaster with a book display has Steve meeting a handsome man who is clearly flirting with him. But Steve has a feeling he has seen this man before. And there may have been some booty shorts involved.
Written for the @silver-fox-steve-bang​ Valentines Exchange for @espressosaur​
The Awkward and the OnlyFans is available to read on AO3!
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thatmexisaurusrex · 1 year
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Just Sam and Bucky, showing Yelena, Kate, and Joaquín how to properly and quickly wrap gifts.
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kayvsworld · 9 months
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Hi! Do you mind if I use this art of yours as my phone wallpaper?? I love it so, so much I want to see it every day
!!!!! please feel free, this makes me so happy, i'm glad you liked it!!! everyone deserves to see sam wilson every day <3
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philtstone · 1 year
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all else above (dreaming of the man i love)
for @sarifinasnightmare
this is my first time participating in a fic exchange! my apologies for the lateness of my submission; december was a crazy time. thank u so much to @fleurdelouve and @fleurdelouvemonth for organizing this <3 yall are the sweetest. and an additional thank u to the inimitable @foolgobi65 without whom this whole screwball venture would not have been possible
Summary: The eve before Christmas Eve, Captain America was set to speak at the United Nations building, it was blizzarding in Brooklyn, and Sarah Wilson nearly died by way of a giant wheel.
She didn't die, of course. She was very gallantly rescued by a man to whom she hadn't spoken in four months. All because she'd kissed him.
Or -- and this was really a pressing question for both of them -- had it been Bucky who kissed her?
The eve before Christmas Eve, Captain America was set to speak at the United Nations building. This was An Event insofar as he had not spoken at the United Nations building thus far in his tenure, nor had his predecessor ever done so. Indeed, Captain America — straight backed and kind faced to his admirers, overly stern and hypocritical to his naysayers — rarely elected to speak at such public political functions at all, either politely declining invitations to speak at various Whitehouse dinners, campaign rallies, and opposing newscaster debates, or cheerfully directing other invitations (memorably one extended by e-gossip column Popsugar) to his stone faced centarian partner, who reliably responded with some cross between a grunt, a glare, and a nonverbal fuck off.
This time, though, Sam had accepted. First of all, it was Christmas. Christmas was important – even over bloated and pathetically corporatized as it now was – which Sam held to be true because fifteen years later his mother’s solemn yearly adages still nagged him at the back of his head. Christmas was a time for do-gooding in the sincerest sense of the expression and Sam, regardless of what anyone else thought of him and despite his self-accepted and human flaws, strove to do good.
Secondly, he accepted because Sarah had said I think it’ll be good for everyone, and by everyone she meant Cass and AJ, because Cass had been acting out at school (there was an incident with a stink bomb in a teachers bathroom) and maybe hearing Captain America tell off some world leaders again on TV would inspire him to shape up.
In Manhattan, the snow was falling in genteel delicate flakes that fluttered and swirled and made the whole evening feel right. Brilliant holiday lights glittered and glimmered over everything and were not quite outshone by the neon and the billboards, in fact they nearly complimented each other. Cars honked in pile ups but Christmas music overroad angry yelling and more people than was usual helped each other across the street amidst the sudden slush. Three hours earlier the courtyard outside the United Nations building had gathered a hefty crowd, which was comprised of people diverse enough to herald fighting if anyone was in the mood to fight, which they were not; the anticipated address was too intriguing.
In Brooklyn, it was blizzarding. The Island had had its blizzard a good day before, and now the bad weather had migrated. Heavy winds picked up and rattled the windows of old Brownstones. Traffic lights encrusted over with ice, much to the serene acceptance of already-jaywalking pedestrians, outdoor fish markets had to shut down but were unconcerned with the quality of their fish as the temperatures were appropriately frozen, and out of the modernly-decorated windows of overpriced cafes selling charcoal infused concentrate of coffee instead of the real thing, one could barely see the street.  
All of this described the state of affairs at 7p.m. By seven thirty, the fucking Big Wheel was attacking New York.
Read more on Ao3
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stsebastiens · 5 months
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like im being so serious rn I see marvel fanart where bucky is dressed like an ambercrombie & fitch model as if his geriatric ass wouldn’t be wearing these t-shirts, unironically
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shorthaltsjester · 1 year
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tonight we get to see lou, aimee, and laura in the silliest oneshot premise thank you critical role for my life
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