I don't normally do these prompt things, but “I don’t mean to sound paranoid but I’m pretty sure you’re a serial killer" sounds really interesting. No pressure!
Bucky watches from his window as the guy who lives in C107 climbs up the fire escape in about five steps. He pauses when he sees Bucky and gives him a little smile and a salute. Bucky forces a smile back.
Because, despite the guy from C107’s blond hair, charming smile, and generally pleasant demeanor, Bucky’s pretty sure that he’s a serial killer.
C107 moved in three weeks ago during the middle of the night, because that’s what serial killers do. They come in the middle of the night, murder everyone on their floor, and leave before anyone can find their bodies. It doesn’t matter that C107 smiles shyly at him in the mailroom or helps the old lady in E202 with her groceries; Bucky knows what’s up. He knows that C107 sneaks out almost every night and doesn’t come back until morning, and never through the front door. Once or twice, Bucky’s seen him covered with blood.
So the guy’s a serial killer, and Bucky’s not sure what to do about that.
There’s a knock on Bucky’s door.
Bucky texts Darcy: It’s the serial killer and I’m going to die.
Darcy texts back: have fun!
It’s not a helpful answer.
Bucky takes a deep breath and walks towards the door. It’s better that he just opens it up and accepts his fate. It’ll be hard enough for the landlord to rent out his apartment again after everyone finds out that a murder took place; he may as well not make any messy clean-up bills by having the serial killer knock down the door or something like that. Makes things simpler in the long run.
He opens it.
C107 is standing there, shirt covered in blood. “Hi,” he says with a bit of a sheepish smile.
“Oh,” Bucky says, then promptly passes out, because if there’s one thing that Bucky isn’t good with, it’s blood.
He wakes up on his couch, underneath a blanket, and with the fluffiest pillow in his apartment beneath his bed. He does not wake up in Heaven (or Hell, if all of those fire and brimstone ‘homosexuals are killing America’ preachers are to be believed) because C107 killed him.
Bucky blinks a few times, then hears C107 on the phone. “No, that’s not… I don’t care if he knows who I am! That’s the point!”
Bucky closes his eyes again. It’s not worth it. He’s going to die.
“Well, what was I supposed to do, Tony? March into his apartment in my Cap uniform and commandeer his laundry machine?”
“No, no, I’ll… I don’t want to wake him up! I’ll talk to you later, Tony.”
Bucky opens his eyes again, just to be a little sneaky, but of course C107 is already looking at him. “Hi there!” he says, far too perky for someone with a shirt covered in blood.
“Uh, hey,” Bucky says, pushing himself up.
“Easy now,” C107 says, rushing over to the couch. “Don’t force yourself,” he says.
“Why would you care?” Bucky asks, a bit hysterical as C107 reaches out to touch Bucky’s forehead with the back of his hand. “Since you’re here to murder me, and all.”
C107 drops his hand. “What?” he asks, incredulous.
“I’ve seen you! Crawling through the window at night! You’re going to kill me and honestly? I’m not prepared for it. I have… four things to live for. At least. Maybe five.”
C107 just stares.
“Six?” Bucky offers. “I’m not sure I can list more than six, to tell the truth.”
“I’m… I’m not going to kill you,” he says.
Bucky raises an eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing that.”
“No, no! I’m… I needed to borrow someone’s laundry machine and I saw you were up. That’s all.”
Bucky blinks. “You have your own in your unit.”
“It’s busted,” C107 says.
“Because you put bloody things in it all the time?” Bucky asks.
C107 snorts. “No, because the last resident and their partner had relations on it and busted it.”
“Go Kevin,” Bucky says.
C107 laughs. “Anyhow,” he says when he’s done, “I’m not here to kill you.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I mean, I have killed people before,” Bucky’s eyes go wide then C107 says in a rush, “but most of them were Nazis.”
“I’m not following here,” Bucky says, throat dry.
C107 sighs. “Okay, it’s. I’m. Captain America?” he says, wincing. “And I was just wondering if I could borrow your washing machine.”
Bucky nods. “Alright, okay, that’s…”
And it’s a good thing he’s already on the couch, because he passes out again.
area blogger arrives in local fandom ten years late, with shitposts
Steve Rogers: So I fell to what I thought was my death, only to get frozen in an iceberg for the better part of a century–and when I thawed back out, just about everyone I’d ever known was dead, I’d managed to sleep through a bunch of wars, and the jerks I’d been up against in the first place were about six inches away from world domination.
Margot and Rikki host The Breakout Hour, a morning superhero news talkshow based in NYC. When they air Sam Wilson’s resignation on their station, they receive a response they never expected. They get calls in from all over New York and even get an interview with Misty Knight. The two reporters cover real issues that plague superheroes; vigilantism, oversight, social justice, the “real” police force, and most of all, what do superheroes owe society? What does society owe superheroes?
Thank you all so much! This was my contribution to the @samwilsonbirthdaybang and it stars some amazing voice actors. This was a massive project, and I hope you enjoy it!
He wasn’t scanning well, so I took a photo of him instead. I will be honest, porgs do not look built for flight. They look like they at very best might waddle around a bit, scream into the empty air, maybe go chow down on some seaweeds or shellfish or Luke Skywalker’s left boot.