@haphaestos || the boondock saints starters || accepting!
‘ these are not polite suggestions. ‘
They won. That’s what the moral of the story is. The city might be in pieces in parts, but they won. When most of it’s left whole. That’s all that matters in the end. Right? Humanity lives to see another day. Another week. Another year. Lives keep on going. There’s coffee to drink in the morning. Work to go to. Buses to drive. Cabs to hail. Loved ones to kiss on the cheek when you come back home. Life goes on. Because the good guys finished today alive.
Even if they’re covered in dirt and caked in blood. Some of it theirs. Some of it belonging to their friends. Some of belonging to their enemies. They’re still breathing. They’re alive. Broken. Bruised. Hearts still beating. Lungs still working. They’ll live to see another fight. Another war. Another time when people will need them. Cause one thing Steve Rogers has learned in all this time is that? It never really ends..
He watches as a drop of blood drips from the split in his lip and splashes on the ground between his feet. Swears a voice he’s heard before when he talks to the air once the dust stars to settle and the smoke still billows but he’s alone comes back again. That he’s gotta keep on fighting. That the world’s worth it. That no matter how hard things get, what they’re doing MEANS SOMETHING. These are not polite suggestions, these are the truth. Steve understands. Down to his bones. That’s the worst part. He gets it. And he looks up and sees a shadow, sees someone coming near. With the back of his hand, he cleans off his mouth the best he can and wipes it clean on the side of his leg.
“Thought my conscience was supposed to be a voice inside my head, not out of it. Keeps on changing, too. Got people that’d say I must’ve hit my head too many times by now if you aren’t real. So.. Do me a favor, huh? Why don’t you stick around this time?”