LEGACY

ELI BRADLEY//PATRIOT 

[pctriot-blog]

“I do know, I once got drunk and really upset that I’d never had a dog before, and I tried to get him to follow me home using different slices of different pizzas. He was a good and loyal soldier.” He grins and shrugs his shoulders, pats her good shoulder sympathetically. “They say it hurts less if it’s surprise, but I’m beginning to think that might just be something someone said to someone else to keep their mind off of it.” It’s a familiar song and dance, making jokes just to get her to smile, to ease some of the weight she carries on her shoulders over to his own. It feels especially necessary tonight, with all of the chaos inspired by the list and registration--they had never anticipated having to lead the team through anything like this when they were just teenagers, trying to get the community to take them seriously, and now that they have that respect--it just seems like it’s mostly more cuts and bruises, that hurt more and tear deeper. 

They talk about it enough during team meetings, they don’t need to do it here in his apartment, as the sun is just barely starting to show its face for the day, painting the city outside of his window in shades of orange, and the kind of purple he associates exclusively with her. “You use that line on all the guys? Take off your shirt so you don’t bleed out?” He says teasingly, rolls his eyes in exaggerated mock offense as he unzips his jacket, pulls his shirt up over his head. Every muscle in his body feels like it’s buzzing, like a string that’s been pulled too tight and then plucked, at the thought of her hands on his skin--and he’s suddenly very interested in the intricacies and details of their teammate acquiring a pet pig for himself. “It’s Bacon, and don’t ask me how I know.” He sighs and shakes his head. He needs to kick Tommy out of his apartment instead of letting him stay, they’re starting to know too much about each other. “But it can’t be like--an actual pig right? It’s gotta be some mutated demon or something, unless Doom figured out to grow them too.” 

[pctriot-blog]

“Hey, Captain America Jr--” Eli doesn’t even bother turning around, just tightens his grip on his shield and grits his teeth as the soldier can’t stop himself from laughing at his own joke. Eli is sure the guy thinks he’s got a hell of a catch on his hands, the next best thing to the Captain himself--the guys on Doom’s payroll have been damn near insufferable since the list got released, strutting and stomping around the city like they can barely contain their excitement over essentially having carte blanche. “Hey, I’m talking to you! You know what, I’m gonna need to see some proof of your registration and listing.” He’s not laughing anymore, and Eli can hear the moment he shifts his rifle into position on his shoulder. 

“The name is Patriot,” He holds up the shield as he whips around, but he doesn’t get the chance to add the familiar bit about very much not being Captain America’s sidekick before the guy crumples to the ground--revealing a presence standing behind him holding a fist. He huffs out a sound somewhere between a laugh and annoyance, raises an eyebrow. “Okay, first of all--could have handled that, but thanks. Second of all, exactly how long were you standing there?” 

[pctriot-blog]

“I’m a college student during the day and a vigilante at night, Bucky. McDonalds is basically fine dining.” He snorts and rolls his eyes. He’s always wondered how much of what Bucky does--things like checking on his weapons cache in the middle of the day while Eli is lounging like he owns the place--is the Brooklynite, the person he was before everything happened to him. Not that he’s one of those people constantly trying to find that stark black line between person and trauma--he knows it doesn't work like that and he doesn’t really care who Bucky was before. He’s just curious, about how all of the parts come together to form the whole that’s in front of him now--the guy who’s jacket he definitely doesn’t wear, but if he did, that he might be trying to live up to. “I dunno, you’re being really helpful in my planning to punch the president in the face--don’t sell yourself short bud. You have a certain set of skills--” His Liam Neeson impression leaves something to be desired, and he can’t help but laugh through it. 

He huffs and sets his mouth in a stern line, even though he’s still busy licking peanut butter off of a spoon, which takes away from the severity of the expression somewhat. “I’d never register or list with the same institution that screwed my grandfather over repeatedly--that screwed you over repeatedly. I earned Patriot, I’m not about to give it back.” He doesn’t really have a plan for avoiding the president of any of his goons thus far--the serum didn’t endow him with any of Bucky or Steve’s propensity for strategy, unfortunately. “So far my plan involves a lot of punching, a lot of throwing my shield around--not much beyond that.” He shrugs his shoulders, grins when Bucky sits down next to him. “Isn’t that the Captain America way of approaching things? Hit first and ask questions afterwards?” 

[pctriot-blog]

@scvietwinter​

“You would let me like, be on the run with you, wouldn’t you?” Eli grins from his current position of sprawled out on Bucky’s couch, a jar of peanut butter and spoon in hand, the homework he had brought with him long since discarded. Bucky’s place is by necessity in a pretty quiet area, Eli likes hanging out here when he starts to feel overwhelmed by what’s going on outside--not to mention the fact that for all the stories about the brutality of the Winter Soldier, and the fact that he’s wanted, Bucky himself is actually pretty laid back. He’s more than willing to tell Eli what stories he remembers, about Jeffery Mace or about his grandfather before the serum had corrupted his mind--or to just listen while Eli rants about whatever is on his mind at the moment. Bucky is a large part of the reason Eli decided to study history when he applied to school--so that he could tell stories like that of Sergeant James Barnes, that so often get forgotten.

“I’m thinking pretty seriously about punching the president in the face, but that’s gonna make me a fugitive.” He laughs like it’s a valid explanation for his question, shrugs his shoulders. “Thinking it might be worth it though, if I can figure out the logistics.” He licks at the spoon before gesturing with it. “I kind of already technically am, considering it will be a cold day in hell before I hand over anything related to Patriot to him. I mean, this is insane right?”

[slcvicshadow]

@pctriot

The crowd was flocking, all loud, panicked and angry. Some agreed with Doom’s demands and the gross invasion of privacy while others were disgusted by it. Natasha fell into the latter category, disturbed by the way Doom had recklessly shown exactly what heroes had complied with his demands and how horrifically he’d manipulated the public. Until the crowd was calmed, there was nothing Natasha could do to change it. Quickly, she moved through people, ducking underneath their arms and gently pushing people aside. When she made it outside, she spotted someone that looked equally as angry as her, though they weren’t shouting. Immediately, Natasha decided that she was fond of the man for that alone.

Rather than inform him of her position, Natasha wasn’t a fan of her power, nor had she asked for it, she merely said, “You don’t looked pleased with our beloved president. Am I right about that assessment?” She didn’t recognize him by sight, he could be a civilian or a hero in civilian clothing, but either way, Natasha wasn’t bothered. The people’s voices deserved to be acknowledged and if she found enough people willing to be loud, Natasha could easily give them a platform.

[pctriot-blog]

Eli had known--he had called it from the beginning. History never failed to repeat itself and people in positions of total power like their so called President (and there’s no way Eli voted for this guy--he doesn’t know why he can’t remember but he’s sure there’s no way) never failed to abuse it, to do everything they could to manipulate the public into being on their side--he had just hoped that they were smarter somehow by now, that they wouldn't fall for it so easily. He had made a hasty exit when people had started calling for the metaphorical heads of heroes that had yet to list--he needed the fresh air so he didn’t start throwing punches or something else that was going to get him thrown in jail, though that was starting to look more and more likely anyway. 

He’s drawn out of the thoughts buzzing angrily in his head before he can really get ahold of them, by the Black Widow of all people. He could easily direct a good majority of his anger towards her, and her Panel’s supposed support and protection of the hero population, but she seems as frustrated as he is--which he takes to mean she probably didn’t know all of this was going to happen. “Yeah, that’s about the understatement of the century.” He huffs, folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t care what anyone says, I’m not listing and I’m not registering--I worked too damn hard to take my name back from people exactly like him, my grandfather served under people like him and it got him swept under the rug.” 

[speedyshcpherd]

@pctriot

Sometimes, heroism kind of sucked. It was hard being noble all the time, hard remembering that heroes dealt with problems in a nonlethal (and totally boring) manner. It wasn’t something that came naturally to him in the slightest and, for the most part, his team understood that. Other things were far easier, were easy to adapt to and deal with. Parties? Parties were something he got.

He didn’t like Doom, and he hadn’t made much of a secret of that, but when the guy threw a party with free booze and food, Tommy was there. And he wasn’t there alone. He thrust a drink into Eli’s hand, throwing back two of his own in quick succession. “The alcohol’s decent,” he announced. “Wanna see who can drink more before they pass out? I bet we can get Kate to carry at least one of us home.”

[pctriot-blog]

Doom is an egotistical maniac and Eli is one hundred percent sure that this whole party is a cover for something infinitely worse than what’s already happened--so he doesn’t really care what happens tonight in the larger sense. As long as his teammates are safe, one of these fancy ice sculptures can collapse right on top of the President’s windpipe and crush it--the world would probably be infinitely better off for it. He’s never been good at keeping his anger down, especially about injustices like throwing a lavish party when your city is in an alternate dimension, while half of the public is calling for the heads of people in this very room, and he wants to do something like--start a fire on fancy curtains, or spray some choice graffiti on these marble walls--something he would never do, that would make a statement. 

Instead he’s presented with Tommy, who throws back two drinks faster than Eli can even take in that they’re there, and shoves the third into Eli’s empty hand. He supposes this will have to do, as far as rebellion goes. It’s not the worst opportunity that’s ever presented itself. “You’re on,” He declares and throws the drink back. “Bonus points to whoever steals the most expensive bottle, I wanna show this asshole where he can shove all of this.” 

[pctriot-blog]

Ultimately he knows what could have been doesn’t matter--there are always going to be a thousand ways his life could have gone, a thousand choices he could have made differently--but he’ll take Kate Bishop in his life in any way he can have it, on any plane of the universe, and that’s proven when she tells him to shut up in his own apartment like he’s an idiot for even suggesting that he could take the couch. Maybe he is an idiot, but he’s convinced in that moment that there are of a hell of a lot worse things to be an idiot for. 

He’s forced to roll his eyes fondly internally, because he hadn't even noticed that her shoulder was out of socket--he’d been so concerned about those claws coming for him and the aftermath--and that’s exactly the kind of thing a good teammate and friend (he emphasizes those distinctions in his mind, some kind of reminder or maybe guidelines for how he should act, how a not boyfriend behaves) should notice. “I’m more than capable of stitching it up--” He says distractedly and looks at her shoulder with concern, clenching his teeth together and inhaling through them. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you, but your shoulder is gonna hurt. Like, probably about as bad as this does.” He gestures to the cuts on his chest before putting his hands gently on her shoulder. He steadies his breathing, tries to keep his tone easy. “Tell me about--Lucky’s favorite kind of pizza.” 

He puts the bone back in place and exhales--he’s never been more grateful for the serum than in that moment. “Put that ice on that, and I’ll be right back,” He says before disappearing into his apartment for a beat, returning with a first aide kit balanced on top of sheets and blankets. It’s achingly normal in a way that speaks to a time before lists and demons, when they were just trying to be taken seriously by the heroes around them and getting to fights above their heads. He smiles warmly, chuckles. He doesn’t want to talk about any of that right now--they did their Young Avengers duties for the rest of tonight. “Did you know Tommy has a pet pig? I’m legitimately scared of what else is in his apartment.” 

[supersoldierwithashield-archive]

The party was set only days after the fourth, but the crowd it drew was ten times the size. Steve wondered if that was just the lack of curfew, or if Doom was really as magnetic as he seemed. Steve wasn’t feeling all that celebratory, even with the rush of new resources (which at least meant they wouldn’t starve) – but hey, he’d never actually been to the Empire State Building before. 

Plus it gave him a chance to look around, get a sense of how the city was feeling. It was harder and harder to trust his own instincts, even though time had proven that was the only thing worth trusting. The decorations were elaborate and the smell of food was everywhere, and for the most part, people seemed thrilled just to be invited to an event like this. Maybe it was just a chance to relax, to let loose and not think about the danger they were all in – though the armed militia around the perimeter was a staunch reminder. They were meant to make people feel safe, keep the demons out, but for some reason, it made Steve feel almost trapped. Which was crazy, right?

“Band’s good,” he said, nodding towards them. He had a drink in his hand, untouched, doing what Tony had taught him – playing the part of a party-goer. He turned to the person beside him. “You think the man of the hour is gonna make an appearance tonight?” 

[pctriot-blog]

Eli doesn’t like Doom, and he doesn’t trust him even an inch--if he’d had his choice in the matter he wouldn’t be within 100 feet of a party in support of the man or his magic out of the blue resources. But the rest of his teammates were going, excitedly chattering about how they’d been dying for a chance to let lose after spending so much time fighting and being worried, and the last thing Eli was going to do was let them literally meet the enemy in his territory alone. So he’s here, keeping an eye on his team and filing away what information he can gleam about Doom or the other heroes of New York away in his brain for potential use later on, gamely enduring every hand on his shoulder and croon of Oh, you’re Captain America’s sidekick aren't you? He’s already two glasses of champagne in, and if the manic gleam in Tommy’s eyes from across the room is any indication there’s going to be more to come, so he pulls away from the main crowd for a minute, gravitates to where Steve is standing on the sidelines.

“If you have someone to dance with, otherwise you’re stuck on the sidelines and it’s just peppy jazz.” Eli snorts as he approaches and Steve makes a comment about the band. The drink in his hand appears to be untouched, and Eli doesn’t know why he bothers carrying it around, despite what Stark might have told him. There are plenty of people who aren’t drinking, who like Steve, would rather use this as an opportunity to observe and maybe put some of the pieces together. Eli is struck with the sudden urge to put his own glass down, but he chalks it up to Steve just having that effect on people despite himself, making them want to be better. He asks if Eli thinks Doom is going to make an appearance, and he can't help but sigh. “Why wouldn’t he? By all accounts this whole thing is a success, and he doesn’t seem above basking in his own glory.”

[pctriot-blog]

“It’s not the same Cassie, it’s like--good sugar or something. The experience is different when I know that there is only buttercream frosting and sprinkles, the joy is more pure. I know what I’m doing to my body, and I’ve made peace with that.” It was difficult, to figure out how he was supposed to live without one of the people he considered to be his best friends--he’s sure he never really did, never really accepted that turn of events, but it still feels like something in his world has slotted back into place where it should be, like the world has tilted back on its axis just a fraction. He grins, overcome with how grateful he is to see her in that moment. “I don’t even care anymore, what do people even do with history degrees? Y’know Sam laughed for three minutes straight when I told him and told me to just hang out with Steve more, that it would be the same experience.” Of course he has an idea of what he wants, it falls in line with what he’s always wanted to a certain extent--he wants to tell the stories of people who have been neglected by history, people like his grandfather, or Bucky and his time as a forgotten POW. “I’m just gonna film joke videos about how Iron Man sucks or something, become internet famous. Seems easier.” 

He had come over here with the purpose of ascertaining if Cassie was really all right, but it’s clear when she stops herself dead in the middle of talking about her dad that she’s not entirely--that she’s got more healing to do on her own. He can’t blame her, he’d felt the same way when he’d lost her, refused to acknowledge it as even a possibility. He feels confident that when she’s ready, if she ever is ready, she’ll come to him or Kate--that they’ll do what they always have done and have each other’s backs. “Even my normal is abnormal, like--Tommy won’t stop showing up at my apartment. I think he did it because it would annoy me, and it did, but now it’s kind of nice having him there? And I do not know what to do with that. Are we friends now Cassie?” He knows that talking about their teammates is an easy way to bring her to the present, and he  groans exaggeratedly. He thinks about telling her about Kate staying at his apartment the other night, how strange that had been, but he needs more time to figure that out as well. 

[pctriot-blog]

His whole life feels like it’s been working towards the goal of having the name of Patriot mentioned in the same breath as Captain America, as Bucky Barnes or Sam Wilson, so he can’t help but feel a swell of affection for MJ when she so easily calls him the better Captain America, and a consecutive swell of pride that his hard work seems to be adding up to something--even though he’s had the serum running through his veins for less time than he’s been wilding the shield. He may not really know how to relate to her in any concrete way, but he’s glad in that moment that Kate had the foresight to put her in his path, and he’s more determined to find out what’s causing the chink in her armor. “You have to do what you have to do when you’re alone in your apartment.” He laughs and rolls his eyes fondly at her dramatics. “You wouldn’t understand of course, I heard through the grapevine you’ve been having fun.” He smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Anything serious?” 

His eyes fall to the object in question, tucked securely away behind his TV with only a starred corner visible. “I think the best practice is actually being out on the streets using it.” He shrugs and takes a bite of pizza. “I can’t throw it like Steve does because of the shape--all three of them have been trying to get me to upgrade since I met them, Steve will practically have an aneurism if you mention I’m still out there using his oldest model.” It had been basically an artifact when Kate stole it for him, so it wasn’t an unfounded worry, but Eli wouldn't give it up for all of the vibranium in the world--it’s become his symbol, different from Steve’s, it signifies him as Patriot. “How ‘bout that suit of yours? You gonna keep upgrading until you can fly it from your couch?” 

“I used to think I’d be Patriot all the time if I could, but now that I have my own place I love being Eli way more.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Mostly I think I love my mattress, even if it is sitting on the floor without a frame. You’d be better of giving me tips about not dying inside of an Ikea.” 

[pctriot-blog]

“You’re all talk, and it would make Cassie and Kate sad if you killed me. And Captain America--trust me, you don’t want to know what that looks like.” He smirks, rolls his eyes though there isn’t any real heat behind it. “And who says I don’t feel the same way about you? Maybe you should be watching your back. Check and mate.” Of course he would never turn on a teammate, not after everything they’ve been through trying to establish the team as a legitimate force in the superhero community, and not after all the battles they’ve fought together--even Tommy has proven time and time again that he has Eli’s back when it counts. Against all odds he’s actually one of the people Eli sees the most, even. He wouldn’t mind challenging him to one of these fights though--just to really put his money where his mouth is. He thinks he’d probably win, Tommy doesn’t have the regenerative power of the serum and he’s easily distracted. 

“I wouldn’t have noticed dude, everything I own is on the floor basically.” He snorts and gestures a hand around the space as a whole. Steve likes to tease him about how he never would have survived in the military, and Sam continually rolls his eyes and complains about how his mama would have whupped his ass if he’d lived like this, but Eli likes to think it’s his own small act of rebellion, now that he’s living on his own. He pays rent, he can do what he wants! He’s drawn out of this thoughts when Tommy mentions owning a literal pig--and he nearly chokes on the bite of pizza he just took. “I need to meet this pig immediately, I can’t believe you’re over here all the time and you’ve failed to mention something actually important. Where did you even get it, in the middle of New York?” 

The guy on the screen is definitely concussed, he’s stumbling around the cage and Eli can’t believe that no one has stopped this yet. “Don’t you get enough of this out on the streets?” He raises an eyebrow in question, but he can maybe see the appeal. “This other guy is terrible by the way, did he learn to fight with an at home DVD?” 

[ravenlynch]

marvel moodboards [2/?] | elijah bradley

[pctriot-blog]

@futzyou​

Eli has never much understood the point of playing your cards close to your chest, of not being as emotionally direct as you can be--how else are problems supposed to get solved? As far as he knows it doesn’t do any good to hide things, especially from the people that you care about--

except for how he does understand it, at least a little bit. 

He’d never let it show under any circumstances, that’s what makes him so good at what he does--never let ‘em see you flinch. It’s something that belongs to him and him alone, to the tender early hours of the morning when he's alone and can’t stop his mind from going there.

Kate, the person he trusts most in the world, the leader of the team they both worked so hard to build and maintain during the insanity of the world around them, his favorite almost. If the world had turned slightly differently on his axis, if she had looked over his shoulder one more time, if somewhere a butterfly had flapped it’s wings a moment sooner. He doesn’t believe in fate or anything like that, he believes that she made a choice and he made a choice, that things happened that neither of them could control. But that doesn’t stop his heart from skipping that half beat, every time.

She follows him into his apartment, the closest one to where their fighting for the night had gone down. A well timed swipe of claws and a mistimed rising of his shield has left him with a bleeding wound on his shoulder, and even though she was on a rooftop nearby, he knows Kate must have several bruises as well. It’s not the first time they’ve performed this ritual, she rests her bow carefully by the door next to his shield and he rummages around in his freezer for something cold, they don’t really have to speak. He presses a ziplock bag full of ice cubes gently against her shooting shoulder and smiles warmly before pressing a hand against his own and wincing gently.

“Better go do something about this. You wanna stay for the night? I’ll take the couch.”

[pctriot-blog]

“Of course I did, even though I think they’re disgusting. If I wanted fruit I would just eat the fruit--no reason to have it anywhere near my delicious sugary goodness.” He laughs and hip checks her door closed, sets his goods down on her coffee table and makes himself at home on a spot of floor. She mentions the size of her apartment casually, like a half apology, but he’s glad she has her own space--he’s only just realized how important that is to have himself, recently. “It’s all such a blur now,” He moans when she asks what he is paper was about, scrubs a hand over his eyes which still feel like they’re partially weighed down with sand. Apparently eye muscles weren’t as readily healed by the super soldier serum as the major ones. Or maybe he was too tired to really tell. “Something about war propaganda and African American soldiers during World War II maybe? That seems like something I would write about. It’s in the wind now, out of my hands and my mind.” 

He watches as something flickers in her eyes for a half a second--like she’s in her own head, thinking about something the can't follow, that he feels like he’s almost intruding on. He has no real way of knowing how she’s feeling, he’ll probably never know, he can only guess at and approximate and that feels like a disservice to the weight of that particular trauma. It would be like someone asking him how it feels to have the same serum that gradually deteriorated his grandfather’s mind running through his veins, the serum that Dr. Erskine and Steve died to protect in different ways--he wouldn’t know how to answer that. He couldn’t describe it to someone who doesn’t know. He has to take her at her word, even though he knows in his gut that she’s having a harder time than she’ll ever let on. 

“They make self help books for that?” He says skeptically, raises an eyebrow as he takes a bite of a doughnut with maple frosting. “Look, all I’m saying is, should you ever want to, despite how weird it might be, I’m always around.” At the mention of Speed and one of his two feelings being annoyed, he can’t help but laugh. Things could never be that weird between them, despite what she might think. “Yeah, one is annoyed and the other is emotionally confused. They really go hand in hand, though maybe the serum gave me one more that I haven’t discovered yet. Maybe I’ll grow Steve’s level of justice and the American way.” 

[pctriot-blog]

He’s grateful that she rolls with it instead of questioning his motives further--he’s not exactly the most subtle person in the world, he would much prefer to ask and have his questions answered directly, but working on a team for as long as he has has proven that that method doesn’t always work. People want to keep things close to their chests, some suffering isn’t meant to be shared--even though Eli thinks that it would be easier that way. He’s not unfamiliar with the feeling--the pang in his chest every time he thinks of Kate and almost almost almost that he’s never told anyone about. He puts that thought far from him and puts on as warm of a smile as he can muster, shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know about horrific, it would definitely end with me making some ill advised comments on some internet posts about comparisons to historical European monarchies, but that's just sad, not horrific.” He chuckles and takes a bite from a piece of pizza, gestures for her to make herself at home on the couch while he sets up his TV. 

“When I was young and I was obsessed with Captain America, I used to think that part of the super solider serum made him magnetic.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “And that was why he got the shield to always come back--I can’t believe that could have been--partially true, because that’s kind of what you do.” His own shield is barely visible from where he’d tucked it near the door after a late night of demon fighting, and a pang of something resembling guilt for not being out there tonight goes through his chest--but this is important work, and it’s going to be important in the long run. They’re going to function better as a team and individuals if they let themselves breathe for one night. He rejoins her on the couch and shrugs his shoulders again, tucks his feet up underneath him. 

“I’m as good as could be expected. It’s funny--I was excited to have a chance to be normal for a minute, and then all of this happened. So I’m--determined, to maintain some--semblance of that. Not let my head get taken over by the insanity.” 

[pctriot-blog]

As much as it annoys him to have his space intruded on, (he worked hard for the chance to live by himself, to establish a life that exists outside of Captain America or Patriot or any of that stuff) it’s not an all together unexpected event--or as much as it pains him to admit it, unwelcome one. As far as Eli can tell his teammate (friend? he’s never quite certain where they stand when the teasing actually ends) hates being by himself, so when he can’t find anyone to hang out he just turns up at Eli’s place. Because surely pushing Eli’s buttons must be more entertaining than the alternative. Little does he know, it’s actually good for Eli to have someone else around sometimes, it keeps him from getting lost in his own thoughts for too long, reminds him that despite the weight he often feels on his shoulders he’s still young, and could stand to have a little bit of fun every so often. “You’re the only one that could have killed me that quickly, unless your uncle and I have some vendetta I don’t know about.” He chuckles and hip checks the door closed, visually confirms that his shield is where he left it. He wouldn’t have put it above Tommy to have moved it. 

He tosses his backpack aside and sets the pizzas on the coffee table, flops down on the unoccupied space of the couch. He knows by the time these actions are finished he’s going to be approximately four slices lighter than before, but he has plans to call those slices in for payment at some point. “I’m starting to think you might be homeless and just lying about it, your voice says you’re not but your eyes are one hundred percent Jean-Ralphio technically I’m homelesss.” He sings the tune and does the requisite actions, chuckles at his own joke. He doesn’t normally go for things like that, but it had been either Kate or Cassie’s insistence that they all watch the entire Parks and Recreation series, and he’d actually kind of liked it. 

“What is the point of this?” He says after a few seconds of watching the action on the TV screen, reaching for a piece of pizza. “And what does the picture quality matter? That guy is bleeding pretty obviously.” 

[staturestinger]

@pctriot​

Eli was easily one of the most important people in the world to Cassie. Without trying, he made it easy to believe in herself, and while he had a variety of superpowers from the serum, Cassie was positive that was one of his best ones — in a non-offensive way. There weren’t many people who inspired confidence like Eli, although he unfortunately didn’t seem to view that way. If he could be a little self-deprecating in just about any situation, Eli would try, but they were a team, and part of being a team was balancing each other out. With that in mind, Cassie should not have been remotely surprised when she opened her front door and found Eli standing behind it. A little embarrassed, her apartment was filthy and still smelled vaguely of Axe body spray from the previous resident, Cassie raised her hand in a wave, her makeshift way of saying hello. “I thought you’d be the UPS guy,” she informed Eli, ushering him inside. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not complaining. I’d take you over the UPS guy any day,” Cassie informed Eli, offering him a smile.

Honestly, she hadn’t intentionally been avoiding the Young Avengers. Cassie attended every meeting and every mission with her team regardless how she was feeling, but strangely, the Young Avengers seemed concerned by that decision like they had been concerned when Cassie barely got out of bed before noon unless the world was on the line. “Let me guess, you wanna know how I’m doing? So many people ask me that,” Cassie scoffed. “I totally appreciate it, everyone is amazing, but I’m great! I get to be alive and enjoy my life again, how could I be handling that badly?”

[pctriot-blog]

“I may not be the UPS guy, but I definitely have a delivery for you.” He laughs and gestures towards the cardboard box of doughnuts he’s currently holding in his hands. “I was up pretty much all night working on a paper and needed as much sugar as my body could physically tolerate--which as it turns out is a lot thanks to the serum--and I need a partner in crime to help me justify it.” He hasn’t actually seen where Cassie has been living yet, and he thinks she’s probably carefully designed it that way. Like he would have any room to judge--his own apartment consists of a couch that Kate’s family was throwing out, a TV Kate’s family was also throwing out, and a mattress. And of course more empty pizza boxes and cardboard coffee cups than any human being could possibly justify going through. 

It’s the truth for the most part, he figured that this was the perfect two birds one stone situation. Of course he’s worried about her, she’s one of his best and oldest friends in the world, someone who put up with him being an outrageous asshole and throwing himself into dangerous situations before he ever had super soldier serum running in his veins. She smiles and puts on a brave face about it, but it’s easy for Eli to notice the cracks--and who could blame her? He has no concept for what coming back to life entails, or what it feels like physically or emotionally, but he can’t imagine it’s easy. His suspicion is only confirmed when she launches into something of a tirade before even letting him through the door, and he can’t help but chuckle and shake his head. 

“You realize how not fine you just sounded right? That was like--textbook. But, I promise I’m not here to make you talk about it. I have no room to cast stones in the feelings department, I’m pretty sure I have like--two--at most.”