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The notice has been pinned up on the board of Bucky’s local Starbucks for the past week. This morning, Bucky’s finally given up on life and called. He doesn’t like admitting that he can’t be in five places at once, but his new boss is a sociopathic nightmare with zero regard for either Bucky’s contracted hours, or his out of work commitments. After three days of trying and failing to explain to the Devil Incarnate that he has to go home in his lunchbreak, that he has a dog, damnit, and that Sarge might be the best boy ever, it’s not fair to leave him alone for so long, he’s bitten the bullet. ‘Ask for Steve’ picks up after three rings and promises to collect Sarge at seven am the next morning, so now Bucky is here, sat on the cold steps of his front porch, praying to god he’s not about to give his best friend up to some pet killing lunatic.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he pleads, scratching behind Sarge’s ears and trying not to melt at the sorrowful expression aimed up at him from soulful brown eyes. “It’s just for a few hours during the day. You’ll have a great time.” Sarge puts his head on Bucky’s knee and whines. Bucky’s never had a dog before and a year ago would never’ve believed it possible to be so completely wrapped around a fuzzy little paw. Sarge – technically his full name is Sargent Fuzzlefluff – came hand in paw with his ex; a spectacularly flighty son of a bitch, who’s traded Bucky for an older man, a mansion, and a strict no pets policy.
Sarge likes Bucky best, anyway. It works out for them.
“I’m sure Steve’s great,” Bucky says. He’s packed Sarge a little bag, full of his favorite treats, toys, and the red blanket he likes to snuggle up on when he naps. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
Sarge’s ears prick up as someone approaches. Bucky’s been imagining Steve as anything from a college kid to a soccer dad and is taken aback by the wall of muscle that jogs up to him, baseball hat pulled over his head and dark shades hiding his face, even so early in the morning.
“Hi,” brilliant white teeth smile with more enthusiasm than anyone has ever shown Bucky at seven am, “I’m Steve. You must be Bucky, right? And you’ve gotta be Sarge! Oh, you are the most handsome boy! Aren’t you? The most handsome!”
The megawatt smile diverts its attention from Bucky, to Sarge, who meets the praise with a cheerful bark and a furious wagging of tail.
Steve gets down on his knees, both hands held out for Sarge to sniff before they are mussing his fur and scratching behind his ears, and Bucky is glad, really glad, that Sarge likes him, because that means his full attention can be focused on the fact that ‘Ask for Steve’ is neither a college kid nor a soccer dad, and is, in fact, Steve fucking Rogers.
Captain America is gonna walk his dog.
Don’t worry guys, I already yelled at @boopifer to write the rest of it 😀
“Every character has a specific color — it’s a nice way of giving people their own identity. We use color like comic books do, with each character staying in their lane as far their palette goes: T’Challa is purple, Okoye is red, and Nakia is green.
[Nakia] is the No. 1 warrior in the River tribe and her look was inspired by the Suri tribe in Africa,” says Carter. “Green signifies water, a coastal community, leaves and plants — they live in a lush area, as opposed to the perception that Africa is arid and dry.” – Black Panther costume designer Ruth Carter
brie larson posting photoshopped avengers posters where they’re smiling like they’ve been possessed by a demon after salty fanboys said she didn’t smile enough in the captain marvel trailer is exactly the level of petty i someday hope to achieve
theproblemwithstardust 