DECLARE empty.container [ new thread ];; IMPORT meme starter // [ SOURCE ] USER ( NAME = “STEVE ROGERS“ ) // @livewithoutwar BEGIN
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃... && to be trapped inside a mind like his is a very UNFORTUNATE thing. he remembers heat ... and a BLAST that packed a shocking blow. vision wavered, the world tilted until gravity pulled him down and held him there HOSTAGE. he recalls the stench of hydraulic fluids && singed wires ;; the sharp taste of BLOOD coating the back of his tongue. it is all ... CRUELLY familiar. a blinding FLASH, a deafening BLAST followed by a terrible punch that leaves him staggering backwards. a single, silent second, the breath separating life from death. the cold chill up his spine, despite the drenching sweat of adrenaline. the heated static prickle of FEAR forcing every hair to stand up on edge. steve’s horrified face, BURNED and branded into his memory. a lurch // a fall - PAIN. && then the discernible absence of a familiar weight - gone.
his brain continues to BELIEVE there is still a limb there - sending a wave of transmitter with clear orders : move your fingers ;; make a fist. he can feel the PHANTOM limb, the path the neurons would travel if that path still existed ... && the disconnect sends his brain into a panicked frenzy. it is regurgitating TRAUMA in its most common form. its impact splinters through the weak foundations of his recovering sanity, composure collapsing and awareness slipping like blood through the cracks. all of it incited by the TRIGGER, the likeness, the memory of his quasi DEATH. it sets his teeth on edge, his heart into a WILD state of hysteria. consciously, he slips in && out, mind blurring between past && present. maintaining a presence here, in reality, in the present is ... difficult. his trauma continues to drag him back into the BLEAK filthy ocean of his mind, like a hungry tide, but he tries ... there was a fight. the sharp BURN of anger, hatred. — find it. find the REASON... concern niggles at the back of his mind. find it ! STEVE. it comes back to him and steals his breath. steve had been in DANGER and he had reached out to grab the attacker’s leg. a sharp kick breaks his nose ;; staggers him once again ...
but steve isn’t here ! you know this. the man has been tempted with this thought before, many times before in fact. — especially in the beginning, when all there was, was PAIN, endless fever dreams and constant experiments. the early days when he spent more time in a vegetative state, staring wide eyed at nothing but the hallucinations his mind would create to comfort him and keep him company. he would see his good friend, have lengthy conversations with him - but his image would always fade away ... once the exhaustion and the drugs were drained out of his system. his friend is DEAD. lost to the arctic ... HE IS STUCK IN 1946.
... until a hand reaches out, grips his shoulder - and suddenly, the last seventy years rush back. washington. project insight. bucharest. siberia. zemo. stark. steve is alive. this is real. dark brows dip low with the fear of DOUBT. come on, barnes. focus ! fuck, he hates how lazy his mind has become. the simplest of details struggle to maintain a grip. so quickly, they slip away and whenever he tries to chase after them, it’s always a battle that leaves him exhausted. focus ! focus ! hard lines crease on his forehead at the strain.
❛ steve ? ❜ he swallows, back pressed against the interior of the jet. what little remains of his metal arm is still hot to the touch, wires still burning. the smell assaults his nostrils and makes his head hurt. buck wants to stay here, but he can’t--- eyes gloss over, briefly - before he forces himself to blink and come back. unconsciously, the man leans in closer, closer to steve - as if being close to his friend might be enough to tether him to the present. still ... he is hesitant to BELIEVE... hesitant to believe anything.
