TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Misplaced Lens Cap
Cosmic Funnies
if i look back, i am lost
@theartofmadeline
i don't do bad sauce passes
RMH
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
ellievsbear
Claire Keane
$LAYYYTER
⁂
★
🪼
pixel skylines
YOU ARE THE REASON
almost home
No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
h
seen from Singapore
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@downfll
# DOWNF[A]LL : a selective and independant multiblog featuring muses from narcos, hotd, marvel, euphoria and harry potter.
MUSES
javier peña from narcos criston cole from hotd steve rogers from marvel fez from euphoria sirius black from harry potter [not jkr affiliated] lana hamilton, original character
RULES
mutuals only. respect basic etiquettes. like the starter call, send memes. i prefer plotted threads, like the plotting call.
a giggle bursts from the confines of her throat as his arms snake around her waist, and refuse to let her go. mattress creaks beneath them as they both collide. amy's lips are pulled in a smile, and she's never been as happy as she was right now--- and that scares the shit out of her. because if she's this happy, it just means her heart is involved, and that never ends well for her. but she's sucked in by the glow, by this little bubble of theirs. and when he says shit like that. amy rolls her lips, shifting as close to javier as she could. nose crinkles upon his kiss, a hum in response. "hm, i keep forgetting you have a way with words."
a huff of laughter echoes against the skin of her forehead, something gentle. it mimics the morning spent here, the habits he can feel building : her run as he wakes, coffee dripping as she comes back, to his or to hers, it doesn't really matter. javier doesn't know what to do with all of that, something he has known once, getting down to one knee before running away : a bride left at the altar is a worse curse than thousands of mirrors being broken. he's carried it with him, though papa told him that she was married with kids now. happy. it quiets the guilt but he knows happiness only exists far from him. ' might be the first one to say that, cariño. ' but his heart softens and another sweet kiss is laid upon her nose. by god she is pretty.
something clenches in his chest at his words. "i don't need you to protect me, javier. i need you to let me do my job." she's not trying to be difficult, at least not on purpose, but javier brings out the absolute worst in her. not always. not like this. but sometimes. it's in the way he looks at her now, in a way she can't fucking decipher and it's pissing her off. "i was asked to come here, reassigned here. someone thought i was capable for the job." it's not that she wanted to prove herself. amy knew she was a capable detective, now an agent. not the career change she expected, but she had jumped at the opportunity for something bigger than herself. "even if you don't." and that breaks her fucking spirits, never mind her heart.
fingers pinch his nose, weight shifting on his legs, javier knew that she would not let it go. twisting his words, turning care into insults. but it's his own fucking fault anyway, he left her behind without a word, shared so much with her to just leave. BUT THAT'S WHAT HE DOES, ITSN'T IT ? he just up and leaves when things get too hard. he left laredo after the wedding, after his mom died. he left helena behind when she got hurt because of him, drowning in his guilt. he left amy when she got too close. javier is a coward and leaves.
still, he remains there, in columbia, even though his heart keeps breaking, the corpses keep pilling up. ' it's not about being capable, it's about where you are. they'll think you a whore and they'll treat you like that. the military won't take orders from you never mind listen to a thing you have to say. ' it will break her heart, it will burn her confidence to the ground and she will leave in pieces if she ever leaves this place alive. ' you won't survive being ignored and useless and that's how it's going to go because you don't have a rank they recognize and because you're a woman. ' and she has too good of a heart to play their dirty games.
THIS INDECOROUS LINE OF QUESTIONING does not appear to go unnoticed, though it does not seem to shake his compliance. while his wounds have been adequately cleaned and alicent should send the injured knight to more skilled hands for treatment, there is a stronger desire to see if he will remain - FOR HOW LONG? what more might he reveal in the luring solitude of shadows?
and if the bold nature of her inquiries jarred him, his answer garners a similar reaction in turn. no mention of king or kingdom, only the burning devotion of a sworn sword belonging to the queen and her alone. a sense of relief is nestled in the way her shoulders drop ever so slightly, mask of the monarch slipping if only for a moment. PERCEPTIVE AS HE IS, she does not expect her shift in demeanor to be missed. though it may go overlooked out of respect for her honor. a matter that seems to dwell at the forefront of his mind.
❝ in truth, it's been some time since i felt there was anyone looking out for me here. ❞ rhaenyra's unwavering claim has left her vulnerable, riddled with the kind of insecurity she believed to be rotting with her girlhood. BUT IT REMAINS. lodged in the center of her chest, a painful reminder :
this world was not made to fit itself around her - she must distort herself to cram into any spaces carved out for her within the castle walls. alicent's place here has only been solidified by each new crack in the realm. ❝ does it still hurt? ❞ CURIOUS EYES TRAVEL ACROSS HIS WOUNDS, blood wiped away only to reveal the shadow of fresh bruising - bewildered by the collision of guilt and gratification that comes from looking upon the result of his unyielding fealty.
there is something loosening at his words, the tension in his shoulders, in his whole frame as the truth passed his lips absent from her features. it is strange, unusual to see her so relaxed, not as composed. criston sees her, he spends every hour of every day by her side or at her door, catching respite when he can, wretched to be torn away from her. for he is her shield, without him, she remains unguarded, a prey for dragons. he fell once, fell prey to one dragon, mocked for his weakness and forgotten. he cannot let his fate become hers.
but he is not much, only one man with a sword, the queen's sworn shield but still a man. he has no dragon to offer, only himself, his life. it will not be enough but he will give it his all.
spine straightens as she speaks, wanting to be the image of strength she needs, the warrior to the mother. criston is looking out for her and getting his face bashed in simply to have her honor defended in some ways. ' i am your sworn shield, your grace, i am looking out for you. ' even though i am but one man, i will always look out for you.
his dark eyes chance a look up, trying to find the emotions on her face, hoping to find a flicker of trust for him, that her grace knows the depth of his loyalty, that her grace knows his whole person, body and soul, is HERS. there is self hatred at the thought that comes to mind as she wonders how he is : he misses her hand against his cheek. it is a forbidden thought, one he wishes to crush the seed of, unwilling to have it grow roots, for vines to wrap themselves around his very skeleton. ' it never did. ' voice is raspy, too low, ' it doesn't when it is the price for justice. ' he would lose blood and limbs and flesh to obtain her what she deserves.
had never once questioned where she was going in life. had always known what she wanted, where she wanted to be. a lot had happened and shifted the last while, completely rattling her to the very core. amy truly did not know anymore. she feels like there was more to that simple you're someone. unspoken words that have her gaze snap to him and hold there. those tortured eyes. they've seen too much. "would it be silly of me to say i don't even know anymore?" her words are quiet, body slumping down upon seat behind her. she was just so damn tired. what if she belonged nowhere? in some permanent limbo.
his body follows hers, as she sits, he crouches down, large fingers splaying on her knees, dark eyes looking up at the exhaustion in the lines of her face. to help others is something he wants to do but he lacks the words he believes, has too much trouble finding the right thing to say. ' you don't have to know, you have time to figure things out, amy. ' and i'm there he wants to say, to help you. but he cannot say that, javier tries not to make promises he cannot keep, his word is all he has sometimes, it has to be gold. his thoughts stray to all the promises he broke, the girls he said he would save and failed, the men he said he would protect if they talked and couldn't. javier can't fail her.
amy was already gulping down the burning liquid when he grabs his own. swallowing with a slight wince as she shakes her head. "chucked it out the window weeks ago." she starts with a wave of her hand, before she begins to peel off sweaty layers for a shower before work. "it was putting out cold water instead of hot, and cold coffee just doesn't hit the same." detective bends down to pull her running sneakers off, leaving them behind in her wake. she really doesn't want to acknowledge how normal this felt. him being in her space more often than not. waking up beside him, coming back to him being here. waiting for that itch she hears so much about. the itch to run. she's stripped down to her sports bra and underwear, pulling her hair down from a ponytail as she moves through the kitchen. "you wanna ride with me to work or...?"
there's a raspy chuckle, something that tumbles out of his mouth without him meaning to. can't imagine what would make her do that exactly but the image of it is hilarious, pushing away the thoughts of the case. it gives him a reprieve, something gentle and soft than those self doubts that plague him, this knowledge that he is simply not good enough. javier cannot help the way his gaze takes in her skin, miles and miles of it, beautiful and warm. it reminds him of the silk of it under his fingers, the way he grazes it, the soft moans out of her lips. his head slightly tilts, pondering her question. he could do that, do the usual walk of shame that left a stain on his reputation in columbia, something that he would not think of, that he would not let weight him down. his reputation never mattered as much as his work anyway, it was shit from the get go. ' can we stop by my place on the way ? just to grab some clean clothes ? ' would he really mind ? if everyone knows about amy and him, would it be so bad ? but no, it wouldn't be so bad for him, but it would be shit for her and he's not doing that. not allowing it.
SUCH A COMPROMISING POSITION, ISN'T IT? for him, for herself, and yet she remains here in close proximity. no longer solely focused on his wound as the cloth sits limply in her grasp. not for the first time, she wonders what he's thinking - feeling. she once thought of herself as skilled in masking such things, but emotion often leaks from the edges ; spilling over in a way she could never imagine from the rigid ser criston cole. ❝ you're welcome. ❞ words softly spoken, mimicking the brush of her fingers against his skin.
unsure if his breath has truly caught or it was just her imagination, alicent exchanges her bare hand for the bloodied strip of fabric once more. IT DOES LOOK QUITE PAINFUL, DOESN'T IT? was it a larger blow to his pride or will it fade with the bruising? only so many layers of decency and exercitation keep these inquiries from tumbling out.
∘ but they linger, still, in the silent breaths they share.
despite his clean face, she is in no hurry to leave his side. his reticence intrigues her all the more towards understanding. was his reaction tied up in his complicated past with the princess, or was there something more? ❝ so you did. i wonder why. ❞
AN IMPLICATION, PERHAPS - a bidding for the knight to open up before her, confess : if only a partial truth. (selfishly, she is aching for some confirmation that he just may be on her side) it's the kind of childish yearning that her father would've hoped to dissect from her years ago. ❝ do you feel such loyalty to your king? the crown? ❞ propriety would say there is a right and wrong answer here. which will he choose? with none else here to listen. / @downfll.
her fingers are quick to leave his face, replaced with wet cloth. the moment lasted a second, the moment lasted forever, he would have lived in her kindness until his last breath. but the cause for his admiration, his devotion, is her restraint, the grace that has her head held high even through the worst slights. gaze remains dutifully to his feet, not made to meet hers. aware of the fragility of the moment they are sharing, a breath could break it in pieces.
the questions she would usually keep tightly held between elegant lips are asked, it springs in the air, asking for honesty. he could not offer anything else, criston had thought she had known. since that day in the garden, his back to the old gods, his fate lied at her feet : a word from her and he would tip toward the edge, TO DIE OR TO LIVE. her grace had saved him, had asked him to place in faith in her and that is exactly what he did.
her grace took his cloak, his honor and gave him it back to him : clean and perfect. there is a debt, one that cannot be repaid, one that he doesn't mind owing. the idea that his loyalty would be to the king, to the crown, to this daughter that made a fool out of him, that asked for his honor and ripped it to shreds without a care, is laughable. it was stupidity on his part, foolishness, criston had thought that faith to the crown was to be blind, that they would protect him as he would protect them.
i pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor.
her grace would never. ' i am your sworn shield, your grace. my loyalty is yours, as is my sword, as is my life. ' the words are easy, it is like breathing. gaze darts up for a second, trying to gauge her reaction.
# PERMANENT STARTER CALL 🐣
she knew how that sounded the second it left her mouth, and it's not how she meant it. never had much of a filter when it came to javier, and it just seemed to get worse. her eyes close as she pinches the bridge of her nose. "that's not what i meant. don't put fucking words in my mouth." amy knew him a good agent, had always been in awe of how his mind worked. had been excited to work with him again, as well as see him--- well, that had been squashed immediately upon his settled gaze on her the second she had walked in. "so what? you're protecting me?" she lets her hand fall, eyes narrowed slightly at him. the guys are already talking. men gossip worse than women. "is that it?"
his mouth pinches in a tight fucking line, nostrils flaring. his jaw works, muscle twitching, her words don't really calm the storm beneath his ribs. hands find a place on his hips, dark eyes darting around, watching all those fucks that have been doing shit all around here. there's no one there but him and murphy that javier trusts to watch her back. ' i'm fucking trying to, yeah. but you have to make it difficult. ' his thoughts stray to helena, to her battered body, her fingers clinging to his shirt : over his dead body will it happen again, especially to her. ' you're new here and you want to prove yourself, i get that. but this is not the right place to do that. ' only the wretched and the broken manage to survive here, columbia smothers all that is good.
will someone write with my tfatws bucky just for romance ? thank you 🙏🏻
❛ be an avenger , you mean ? ❜ he considers for a long moment , gaze flickering away from the soldier to the dull greys of the clinic he's been in for days. reminds him too much of the labs with shield ---- no , hydra. makes his stomach twist , &* not just from the healing bullet wounds. his lips purse , then he sighs. ❛ i don't know that i have much of a choice ----- morally i mean. wanda &* me ... we fucked up , helping hydra. we didn't know , but ... that's never been a great excuse. ❜ he clicks his tongue slightly , eyes squinting as he thinks. ❛ we have to stop them. ❜
hydra has been the bane of his existence, at first, it was out of principle, he could not let their values win, let their horror be left unanswered. but then they wanted to take the world, they attacked fury and they took bucky, made him a weapon, tried to kill his best friend over and over again for seventy years : they made it personal. hydra had used those kids, made them think they were given them a chance. they did to them what they did to bucky : made them a weapon. ' you're not to blame. if you wanted a quiet life, away from this, no one would blame you. you don't owe anyone anything, only to yourself. ' steve knows that natasha came out of them out of guilt, that she found peace here, as much as she allowed herself to. still, ' you should do this only if you want to. '
she tries to shift around him, to see him, her head angling ever-so slightly. javier had his demons, she was well aware of that. his demons were very much real, as well as present in his head, and it's something she would never truly understand. as much as she tries. because amy really fucking tries. that traitorous heart of hers was full of this man. "for what, javi?" amy prompts for more, she needed more.
the hand that gripped at his shoulder turns to slip under his chin, gently coaxing him to her. "you haven't done anything." that she's aware of anyway. her voice was gentle, soothing, meant to comfort rather than probe.
her voice pierces to the fog, the terrible anxiety slightly lessening, her hand warm on his chin, his eyes unable to open. how can he say it ? that he will end up breaking her heart, that something will happen and will let her down. like he's done before to a whole lot of fucking people. his mouth opens as if to speak but no words come out. his breathing is not something he can control, heart beating so fast it feels like it will burst out of his ribcage.
but the next words feel like a stab, ' i've done so many bad shit, you know that. ' and maybe he sounds more accusatory than he should, maybe his last words are too sharp facing her kindness. but his body is tired, his forehead slightly drop, jaw resting against her forehead. ' i'm sorry, 'm sorry. ' there is only whispers, the racing of his heart starting to slow, breaths a bit easier to reach his lungs. javier would never hurt her on purpose.
her brows furrow upon his vague explanation. vague, but she does get it. however, she wasn't here to become some pretty office piece, she's here to do a job. a job she's damn good at, a job she's taken years to gain respect in. she was a woman in a predominantly male field, it didn't look good on her that her ass was safe while others risked theirs. "i remember." amy mutters, the only acknowledgement of her own. "but i'm not you, and if i have to go over your head to be able to do my job i will, javier."
there's a flinch, as if her words had been a slap in his face. jaw tightens, nostrils flaring, he tries to keep his anger in check. it's not about him. still, javier knew that she thought him a terrible person, rightfully so, but at least he thought she knew he was a good agent. ' so what ? i'm a shitty cop, you're a good one and the fucking shit show that is columbia won't touch you ? ' she's so pretty, they'll think her a whore out of those walls, he doesn't even want to imagine what would come next. ' columbia takes everything, no matter who you are. the nightmares, the way i am ? that's what you want to be in a few months ? ' amy has seen first hand the wreckage years in columbia did to him, she can at least acknowledge that.
𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙰𝙻 // T̷ R̷ A̷ N̷ S̷ M̷ I̷ T̷ T̷ I̷ N̷ G̷ … 𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚇𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚂 // [ SOURCE ] 𝚄𝚂𝙴𝚁 𝙸𝙳 : BLONDIE ↦ @downfll
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. it digs and digs and digs like a worm, consumes like a parasite and spreads like a deadly disease. some are able to recover, heal and move forward. the craters blasted into their core eventually bridge, mending back together until the only evidence left are the outline of fossils, scars carved along the dunes. just a brief, dark moment in the overarching timeline. for those less fortunate, it ravages like a cancer and if allowed to grow and metastasized, can even prove FATAL. each one of them must choose how to carry it, how to control it ( how to CONTAIN it ) else risk hurting those around them.
bucky does not know steve’s story and he does not assume anything other than the fact they are both soldiers struggling to heal from wounds that are still bleeding.
at first glance, their individual approaches to recovery appear distinctively different. barnes walks with a certain BRAVADO - an air of ease, a swagger of indifference - seemingly unbothered by anything going on around him. he is notoriously blunt with his words, flippant with his choices, brash with his actions. look at him ! walkin’ on cloud nine, ain’t he ? the lack of limb only made him all the more buoyant. — IT IS A FACADE, a lie. his defense, his SHIELD. like a spider weaving a tight web, he weaves scar tissue on top of scar tissue, desperate ( frantic ) to hide the rot beneath, but it is still present, growing at his core - the disease, the PARASITE feeding and and infecting and spreading. he can try to build as many layers between it and the surface as he wants, DECAY will eventually consume. the rot will seep through, pus oozing from skin pulled too tight and stretched too thin. he is aware. he knows he is a ticking timebomb. fuck, nat reminds him almost every day. he compartmentalizes, which is just a fancy word cowards use to avoid their problems. — he cannot be bothered to care. he is okay - for now. his trauma is a nightmare to be dealt with tomorrow. today - well today, he is far more concerned about feeding his sugar addiction. you know, PRIORITIES.
on the absolute other end of the spectrum is steve, holding his breath as he timidly walks along his tightrope, hyperaware of his every step. there are times when buck can find some kind of distraction from his troubles, even if it is only for the briefest of moments. alcohol, sugar, sex, adrenaline, drugs ... && for a single second, he can forget. he allows himself to be careless like that. steve on the other hand does not seem to carry this same kind of reckless abandon. on the contrary, the poor guy seems constantly aware of his own presence and that most likely means he is also constantly aware of his trauma and how it impacts those he comes into contact with. socially, he is an absolute mess, but that’s okay. barnes is enough of a social butterfly to make up for it. they sort of BALANCE each other out, don’t they ? his ying to rogers’ YANG. it’s kinda poetic, ain’t it ? he has got a good feeling about steve. maybe, just maybe they can become each other’s saving grace.
hah - yeah fuckin’ right. like he can be saved.
maybe steve can be though. as he watches the other man fumble with his words, buck ponders his potential. maybe the story of steve rogers can write itself into something LEGENDARY and maybe bucky barnes can have a hand in crafting it. && wouldn’t that be something special ? HIS FINAL ACT ;; one last good deed - helping someone who needs help. someone who DESERVES to be saved. don’t be so presumptuous, james. he can hear his father’s voice at his ear and as much as he enjoys jumping at any opportunity to defy the bastard, he knows to take heed. his hands have proven to cause more damage than good and the last thing he wants is to become yet another TOXIN poisoning an already dying body.
steve confirms his heritage and as he learns the fate of his father, barnes frowns with sincere sympathy. ❛ sorry ‘ bout that. ❜ he does not have any other details and steve does not seem eager to share them. how the man had died and when, during which war. how big of an impact was left behind by his departure. if steve had a solid relationship with the man ;; if he was heartbroken. a father is a father though, even a bad father - and they are all affected by that loss in some way or another. steve’s voice remains level and stereotypically polite though and he is quick to retreat into the other room, leaving buck in the dark, left wondering.
❛ twice a week, ❜ he sighs, collapsing into the office chair opposite the desk. ❛ my roommate kinda threatens me if i don’t show up. -- she’s a peach. ❜ he chews the meat of his cheek and tips his head. ❛ what about you ? i don’t think i’ve seen you in group session before. ❜ he sniffs and smacks his lips when he sees the cookies, golden smile flashing on his face.
❛ what’s our haul, captain ? ❜ gosh, he hopes its snickerdoodle. he is in such a mood for snickerdoodle.
it twists and turns in his stomach, fingers white as they clench the box of cookies, throwing up his meds this morning, hitting his head yesterday as he fought monsters that only walked his soul : steve is a fucking mess and every breath shakes the poorly built foundations of what's left of the carnage. trauma is a funny thing, not something that falls from his lips in a smile but something that borders on insanity, a terrible laugh that is only born out of a need to avoid tears. but he does not avoid those, they spring to his eyes at any moment, a sadness he was not born with, one he does not know how to deal with. his stomach lurches as the box is open with shaking fingers, the smell of food a disgust that makes his jaw clench. the gym is the only time he goes out of his shoebox appartment, needing to tire his body out, to keep away the doctors and their disapproving frowns.
there is trouble with his leg, trouble with his hip, his brain is another matter on its own. but steve cannot let himself go, bloody fingers grip life with despair, unwilling to SIMPLY LET GO, to let the darkness eat his whole soul. some days, there is no fight left, his body cannot move from his bed, sleep unwilling to free him, limbs unable to move. it feels like it could never end, like there would never be any light, any movement ever again. but it passes, everything passes at the end. still, his mother's death is a grief he cannot process, one that does not pass. still, his pain is a constant thing, one that the doctors have said would not pass, one that is slowly working its way to destroy him, a patient poison like vine growing around his bones.
his chest is an open graveyard, a tombstone for every failure, inhabited by ghosts that are restless. the thoughts lead to a burning in his eyes, eyelids moving fast, hoping to keep the tears away, glancing at steel blue eyes and crooked smile. do they all have graveyards he wonders ? are there inside bucky ghosts that whisper in his ears ? are there regrets that bite and memories that burn ? a few words about a father that are draped in loathing, that are draped with a love that is despised. there has never been hate in his own heart, no matter how much he tried, hate was not part of his vocabulary. everyone has a story, steven, you cannot judge someone without having read it. his soft heart is his mother's gift, his empathy too. could a dead father he never knew have offered him something of his ? should the legacy have been death all along ? maybe the pain he feels is for a survival that shouldn't have happened, the rogers name made to be engraved rather than written.
eyes flutter at the apology, storing it away, like all apologies he ever receives these days. it's no one's fault, no one but his though he cannot yet pinpoint where he went wrong. was it enlisting ? was it becoming a captain ? was it that first decision to take the mission ? the questions are endless, they turn in his head, chasing away the sleep, reality, hours passing by without him noticing.
there couldn't be a more relieved breath as bucky's words pierce through the mist, pulling his attention back to him, pulling him from the depth of his sorrow. head slightly tilts, trying to imagine the kind of roommate the man would have that would threaten him. he does notice that the man said roommate, steve wonders if he should get a roommate too, someone that would push away the loneliness. but the thought is quickly buried, to be forgotten. to impose himself on someone else would be selfish, the nightmare and depression, the inability to be of help some days, it would be UNFAIR. and so he will keep himself locked in his cage, the one steve has the keys to but he is too afraid, fearful of what awaits him past the door.
' she sounds like a smart lady, ' the words are muttered, the silence in the room enough for him to be heard, ' do you like coming here ? ' and his eyes dart to the side, catching the man's, wondering what he can see here. can bucky pinpoint the grief ? the despair ? how lost steve feels ? it doesn't matter, there is nothing anyone can do for him anyway, trying to have bucky shoulder a bit of his pain would be unfair. a sigh escapes his lips at the question, he cannot hope to ask questions without having to answer some of them. ' no, i, i, well, sam, sam wilson ? i don't know if you, well, you probably know him. i've met him, at the, at the gym, you know ? and he said, sam said that i, ' it's so incredibly difficult, eyes moving around, unable to focus, looking for words he cannot find, like a dictionary spilled on the floor, words all mixed up. ' he said it could be good for me, ' he finishes lamely, head hanging low, defeated. ' guess you can get why i didn't have the guts to go. ' a hollow chuckle serves as period at the end of the depreciating sentence uttered under his breath.
the box of sweets is handed, heart squeezing at the rank, remembering the pristine costume hanging in his dresser, the one thing that brought him pride and he feels unworthy of wearing now. unworthy of his rank, of his costume, of his flag. he can feel himself closing on himself, shoulders dropping. a few stumbling words and he drowns. but politeness is so ingrained, he makes teeth dig into tongue, the pain bringing him back, ' you can have them, i'm not that hungry. ' the shakiest smile he can muster is offered, hoping bucky will have the grace to not comment on his slow fall to insanity.
' human will is a particularly powerful magic. '
' it is. ' human will was the only thing he used to have. human will, his own, his mom's, bucky's, bucky's family's, that's all he had to keep himself alive. breathing. they used to keep him warm when the fever was too high, to fill his stomach when he couldn't keep anything down, to find medicine to keep the diseases away. human will made it possible for him to finally enlist, to become captain america, to leave the tour and go find bucky. human will is all he's ever had he thinks, that and a few trusted people that care about him. ' it kept me alive, made me who i am today. '
he thinks of the powerful magic in her veins, thinks of the fear she holds for it, some kind of morbid fascination for the red at the tip of her fingers. but steve holds no fear for it, he knows her heart to be good, cannot imagine that @maimedaffair would ever use it in the wrong way again.
i just kinda want to write bucky to give him a soft girl that’ll let him rest and take care of him
❛ i do not know that i agree -------- the ... you can't be too much part i mean. mister stark can be too much , ❜ he says , distaste still coloring his face. intent or not , his creation had destroyed so much of pietro's life. whether the twin could ever forgive that or not was unknown. ❛ i can be more. do more. the possibilities are endless. i feel like i can't just sit still &* idle ------- i need to be out there. ❜ recovering from a barrage of bullet wounds made that a little difficult. he's still bedridden ----- but , it seems his super speed sometimes also meant his thoughts were racing.
a soft chuckle passes his lips, tony is an acquired taste, a man he respects though he does have a way when it comes to infuriating him. ' for the right people, he isn't. you can only be enough for the right people, that's what matters. ' steve had to learn that the hard way. wanting to be captain america, to be what everyone needed : he couldn't sell his morals to fit in. and it happened again when he chose to fight shield and again when he chose bucky. ' i am enough for myself, i can look at myself in the mirror, you just have to know what you can let go of and what you can't. '
they call him an idiot, looking for bucky like he is but his choice has been made : he is not letting go of his best friend, especially not when he needs him the most. ' do you want to work with us, pietro ? '
