#heartlesshenchman

[fangedbarbie-blog1]

your theme is gorgeous dAMN. always on point!

/ YOU’RE / GORGEOUS w A H. thank you so much ?? ; ~ ; right back at you honestly. SLIGHTLY SCARY BUT SO AESTHETICALLY PLEASING ???   —   life goals. ( & your autoplay is on point. ) this was so nice of you thank you for being such an angel. : ~ ) 

[nctionalarchive-blog]

psa that i just convinced heartlesshenchman to record her therapist voice for me & she has the most adorable voice in the land. the end.

[freedomarchiives-blog]

        ( heartlesshenchman :: kiss meme. )

            ANGER FILTERED IN at a slow, constant rate ; escalating with each unsteady             breath through flared nostrils, each time fists clenched with an audible scrunch             of leather from his gloves.   they’d been having this argument for the last hour,             at least,                    & they’d gotten NOWHERE near a point where any sort of             compromise could be made.                  it made his teeth grind together, made             something close to a snarl try to break  free  in  the  wake  of  that  smug  little             smile rumlow couldn’t seem to get rid of        

            maybe that’s why he did it.  he’d wanted to wipe that look straight off his face,             & it seemed as if wrapping  a  fist  in  the  collar  of  the  other’s  combat  gear,             pulling him CLOSE, slamming their mouths together        that was going to get             the job done.

[freedomarchiives-blog]

keep the pda to off hours, Rogers

                    ‘                  i have a feeling you weren’t hugged enough as a child,                              rumlow. am i right in that assumption ?

[ofmiidnight]

heartlesshenchman replied to your post:THEME BACKGROUND HELP: i want to start using more...

im at work right now but when im home i can send you my folder!

you are a saint.

[tothelittleguys]

( HEARTLESSHENCHMAN )

/hacks into your phones /regrets it

[tothelittleguys]

can u and stark get a room

[tothelittleguys]

rough touch bitch

( ★ ) ; aggressive action drabble prompt.

( NUMBER GENERATED : 9. )  

               Blow after blow.      One Steve’s, one Rumlow’s. Kicks, punches, flat palms.                Whatever worked against a worthy opponent.           The shield lay discarded                within Steve’s vision, a mockery of his failings.           Each fist didn’t hurt as                much as the torn and fraying  trust  that Steve had built for the man throwing                 them,    wrenched so cruelly from his chest in an  unexpected move that had                left the soldier at a disadvantage.

               A duck, a sweeping leg (dodged by his opponent), a grunt; one from him, one                from Rumlow.       A desperation, a viciousness fuelled the ongoing battle as                energy began to fade. No etiquette, no rules.  Chairs were thrown and all dirty                fighting was fair game.    With a growl, Steve curled his fingers in the armour                Brock wore, and swung the way he would the shield.    The other man hit the                wall with a crunch of plaster.   Steve watched him sag with mild surprise and                no satisfaction.       There was a bad taste in his mouth and an ache in all his                limbs as he forcibly expelled a huff of rage.       The emotion wasn’t really his                style.  It was even steps that brought him forward, knees ready for the crouch                before the man,   but before he got there his move was interrupted by a dozen                more men bursting through the door,      clad in black and MISSION written in                their stances. 

               Weakened, but not without fight still left in him,  Steve summoned it back, and                the blows began anew. The men were well trained. A few went down, most did                not.  His body jerked as the current of a taser shot through his limbs. It seized                his muscles and gave his enemies that small opening they needed.    Multiple                sets of fingers curled on him,     managed to hold his arms in place for the few                short moments it took for Brock to be in front of him again.           Steve’s eyes                blazed as a hand curled unflinchingly around his throat and SQUEEZED.  The                soldier stilled, each tired wrench of his muscles causing them to spasm anew. 

❝ ——– Stay down. ❞

               Brock’s words were biting, sharpened in a way that was designed to slice. But                Steve’s skin was thick.

❝ ——– Not on your life. ❞

               Jaw set,    arms wrenched free    and a war-hardened hand curled around wrist,                snapping bones between fingers and tearing palm away from throat. 

               ROUND THREE.