#trouble man

[todayinhiphophistory]

Today in Hip Hop History:

T.I. released his second album Trap Muzik August 19, 2003

[micamicster]

Trouble Man

this is. okay. this is. marvel fic. (throw your tomatoes now okay get it over with i understand i'll wait) but since we are in 2013 mentally. I thought i might as well? Bucky scene to follow!

[This is "canon compliant" if you imagine that the author has not seen any marvel movies post black panther (the first) and has seen maybe four episodes (not consecutive) of the sam bucky tv show. because she hasn't. enjoy!]

~

Sam lowers himself stiffly onto the steps of the porch, then keeps going, tipping his head back until it hits the top step. The stretch brings a good ache with it, a familiar one, that briefly overshadows the crueler hurts still lingering under the suit. He sighs.

He can feel Bucky more than see him, standing just outside of the ring of light cast by the porch lamp. He’s doing that thing that other people call looming, but Sam has come to see as more of an anxious hovering. Something Bucky does when he’s got something to say and isn’t sure how to say it, or thinks he should be doing something but he’s not quite sure what it is. It shows up a lot when Sam is fucked over and dead on his feet, so he associates it with the worst of Bucky’s mother-hen impulses. What a life he leads.

“Steve—“ starts Bucky, and thankfully stops there. Even the name hurts to hear. He doesn’t want to talk about Steve right now.

For a minute there’s just the darkness, the faint breeze stirring the wind chimes and the leaves, the distant rumble of a semi on the main road… all familiar and comforting and in their places. And then there’s Bucky.

“I make it harder,” says Bucky. “For you.”

Sam swallows. He’s grateful for the arm he threw over his face, for the way it obscures his facial expression. Bucky’s always looking. He looks too hard, like he’s trying to crack Sam open and see all the pieces. Figure him out.

“It was always going to be harder for me. It’s not because of you, man. This was always going to be…” he’s so tired. “Hard.”

“But I don’t make it easier.”

“Yeah, you’re a real pill, I won’t lie to you.”

Bucky snorts faintly, but he doesn’t loosen up and sit down next to Sam, toss the insult back, cut the hovering. There are faint clicks and shuffling as his arm recalibrates, the closest thing he has to a nervous tic. What has Sam’s life become, that the faint whirr of an assassin shifting his metal arm is familiar enough that he can pick it out of the sounds of home with his eyes closed?

He lets himself consider, for a moment, what it would be like if Steve was here. By his side again but with their places swapped, Captain America’s right hand man. Steve, with his wry sense of humor and his aw-shucks grin and his noble, idealistic heart. His roman nose that Bucky had broken with a fastball in 1937. His blond hair and his blue eyes and his experimental ubermensch shoulders and…

He tries to shrug, but it’s more of a wince. Everything is one big fucking bruise. “If it wasn’t you, it’d be something else. There’s always something else.”

Bucky is silent.

As the silence draws out Sam feels a flicker of fear. By the next breath it’s panic—that Bucky’s slipped away already, vanished into the dark like the ghost he is. That he walks away from all of this and leaves Sam twisting in the wind.

He sits up too fast, muscles screaming in protest, and Bucky’s right there where he always is. Looking at him.

“Don’t,” Sam starts. Don’t what? Don’t leave him alone?

He has dreams, sometimes, where he’s still chasing Bucky. Where he never stopped. Searching for him through cities and train stations and his own old high school gymnasium with the strange driving logic of dreams, knowing only that he’s lost something. Dreams where he’s running through a crowd, grabbing people to look in their faces—it’s never the right face.

He doesn’t want to do this shit alone. He’s a social motherfucker, he’s not cut out for the lone hero shtick.

He tries saying that, and Bucky only frowns harder. At least it’s his “I don’t understand the way you speak,” frown, which is a personal favorite.

 “You have people. You have… options.” Options who aren’t infamous soviet assassins with weekly thinkpieces published on the topic of his guilt or innocence or sanity, Sam assumes he means.

“Options? Name three.” So maybe he’s being stubborn about stupid crap, but he’s fucking tired, okay? It’s been a long day, full of gooey aliens and collapsing buildings and combative press conferences, and now he has to deal with… whatever this has turned into.

“Torres. Natalia. Sh—“

“I thought you were my partner. I thought you were my… guy.” He glares at what he can see of Bucky. His frowning face is still half-hidden in shadow, because he’s an idiot who operates on vampire rules. An invitation, then, Sam can do that. “That means you’re here until I tell you to get lost, okay? Let’s make it real fucking easy. When I say you’re here, you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Bucky parrots. There’s something soft in his eyes as he moves to give Sam a hand up. Maybe it’s just the flickering yellow porch light, maybe not.

~

[movieposters1]

[deadassdiaspore]

[schlock-luster-video]

On November 1, 1972, Trouble Man debuted in New York City.

[rastronomicals]

2:19 AM EDT August 23, 2024:

Jeff Beck - "Trouble Man" From the album Jeff (August 5, 2003)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

--

[rejnka]

why is this quote so gender

[kitaston]

Trouble Man - Rickie Lee Jones

[skellagirl]

played DA2 for the first time and romanced the possessed bisexual poor little meow meow who's totally down for firebombing a walmart

[hinamie]

I could've been a better man, but I'm not

more lmhs megu bc i love him. he is here fr ur lunch money :>

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[schlock-luster-video]

On September 30, 1973, Trouble Man debuted in the United Kingdom.

[rastronomicals]

12:52 PM EDT March 30, 2024:

Jeff Beck - "Trouble Man" From the album Jeff (August 5, 2003)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

--

[mitjalovse]

John Philip Shenale can be truly found anywhere. Yes, he did show up on many interesting places. Thus – him being a part of a Buddy Guy record? Sure, why not? Still, we should be more careful of the LP by the famous blues master Mr. Shenale was on, because the disc isn't really of the genre Mr. Guy was good at. Yes, Feels Like Rain reminds me of all those 90's platters the elder statesmen of their idioms did to prove they continued to be a commercial force to be reckoned with, i.e. Supernatural by Santana remains a perfect example of this. However, Buddy Guy's collection of songs doesn't suck, since you could use such long plays as an introduction. Nonetheless, you would be better off to check some of Mr. Guy's earlier stuff.