#scxevus

[adderxll]

scxevus

clear-as-abell

clxmor

adrianharriis

     “ I am completely incapable of that kind of physical labor.

                                              So, no. ”

[alwaysfiguresitout-archive]

{ scxevus }  

        He tripped up the stairs. He's falling over himself. What does the teenager expect because of those texts? Okay, he's expecting sex--- well not sex--- he's expecting something like sex. Sexy things. Shirts off at least. You can't just admit to your friend that you like them and want to see them naked. "Just friends" don't do that. This was Jemma's way of showing him that she wanted to be more. Fuck, did he have a condom? Did she want a condom? Oh god, what if she was just messing with him?     He ran into his room with a heavy pant, brown eyes darting around the room until he spotted Jemma. "W-We need to......" He took a deep breath, "Talk about......t h i s ." 

[virxbonus]

     She'd been searching with Sam for      over two months. Two months of long      nights that even the human super solider      had been struggling with. Every second      she had been thinking they were getting      closer, they'd       actually taken several      backwards.

            Saying her goodnight to             Sam, she made her way             to motel room. Wishing             that sleep would come.

      A heavy weight in the mattress caused       her to stir, then a cold metal against her       neck. Orbs shooting open, glossy from       sleep---- "Buck."

[undarliga-blog]

-- scxevus

This wasn't at all how he imagined it going. Back then, back in New York, he recalled rallying forces in support of his cause, as anti-SHIELD as it ever was. In the hearts of SHIELD enemies he heard the whispers of something--Hydra? Had it not died and frozen right along with Captain Rogers? He searched for a solid answer and found none, ignored it when his own darkness, magnified by power, eclipsed those forgotten threads. 

He remembered watching the helicarriers rain upon the capital from a television in a store-front window, heard it again in his head like a voice from a past life. Hydra? Wasn't that what sickened agents had whispered in his ear when he touched their hearts and turned their eyes to his promise of freedom?

But none of this was right. He was supposed to be the one ripping SHIELD apart. That was why he lingered long in Midgard, always close enough to keep an eye on Thor, his companions, and the humming threat of darkness that slept beneath the pavement, spoke in tongues on backchannels and in scrambled data. But what was it? What was it?

He stands in front of a glowing portrait of Steve Rogers. It changes, periodically, between his pre- and post-serum states. In post-, they're about the same height, Loki, maybe, an inch or two taller. His black suit betrays that he's not a tourist, though hard to say otherwise--a man on a lunch break, soon to return to politics or business or money. People in shorts and baseball caps move around him like he's hardly there at all and he walks slowly between kiosks. 

Barnes is the one that draws his pause--he stops to read over the description, to look upon the portrait. The one Hydra had captured, once close to Steve decades past. Hmm.

"I couldn't say I might imagine a death of that kind. To fall from such a height. Not the death a soldier might have asked for, I imagine."

His speech betrays him as foreign but he speaks to none in particular. Maybe the woman at his side, if she would respond.