bullsh1tterz

[bullsh1tterz]

[ TXT -> some guy . ] sore's the best you'll get [ TXT -> some guy . ] i'm watching some shit movie

[text; Good SamaritAdam] Okay, strongman - What are you doing instead of sleeping? [text; Good SamaritAdam] They're fine. Sore. Which I suppose is to be expected.

[bullsh1tterz]

[ TXT -> some guy . ] sleep is for the weak. [ TXT -> some guy . ] wounds healing ok?

~ @bullsh1tterz || [ TXT ] : why are you still awake? ~

---

[text; Good SamaritAdam] Nightmares [text; Good SamaritAdam] You?

[bullsh1tterz]

me on my shit again but what if I give jon a blog w/no promo and stated NON-association w/the st fandom ...

[bullsh1tterz]

Okay so maybe he's not about to die but what in the fresh fucking hell is happening right now? When Parker had grabbed hold of him, he really thought they'd just be making out or something - give the poor guy one last hurrah before they die. Not this.

Is he doomed to be rescued by superheroes? Is he really all that pathetic? Fuck, for all the shit he gives Parker, what the hell does he fend for himself with?

Even in the adrenaline of it, he's careful not to claw into Peter's form, hand instead fisted against his own chest and pulling at his jacket lest it flies off, with the other gentle in its grip. "... Okay, so I guess you aren't bangin' spider-man after all."

Peter can hear the wood beneath them creaking, cracking and blistering as the heat from the flames below curls upwards. "I'm not in love with you, god -" Sure, maybe he'd nursed a little crush at one point but that's irrelevant. That was before Adam had made it very clear that someone like Peter Parker's not his type. He moves to the window, fingers grasping at the pane and breaking the wooden panelling around the edges to allow enough room to get out.

"Just shut up and hold onto me -" He reaches for Adam, wrapping an arm around his waist to ensure he has tight grip before launching out the window. A web zips from his wrist, attaching to the nearest building as he swings them away from the fire, heading down 5th.

[bullsh1tterz]

Arms entangle into a cross, amusement so far gone from his demeanor that one would think it incapable of such a feat. It's not so much the dismissive attitude as it as the words being thrown Adam's way that do plenty to curb any patience he might have. It's a shit day. Every day is a shit day, so that's not special, but it's still a shit fucking day! Opinions on what he should and shouldn't capture just don't sound very dandy right now.

"Great. 's it free for fuckin' returns, too?"

@bullsh1tterz sent in: "If I wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it."

mapplethorpe can't help but giggle at the other's words. yeah, he wasn't intimidated by any means, that's for sure. his foot stays on his skateboard that is on the ground, pushing it back and forth idly as he absentmindedly picked at the flaking black nail polish on his finger nails. he'll simply give a shrug of his shoulders, completely unbothered by the other's snarly attitude.

"well, lucky for you---....the opinion is free of charge! didn't even need to ask,"

[bullsh1tterz]

He remembers that? Tony - the bitch - said it'd a problem. A spiff in the timeline if he were to ever play around too much with his little escapade. Should he... is it not right to tell Steve? It should be. The fuck does Stark know, anyway?

"Oh yeah?" He smirks, throwing himself next to Steve and letting his head fall against the other's chest, angled up to view him. He's scoffing with amusement to himself, touched that a single moment between them managed to linger so much. "Sounds like one sexy motherfucker." He says, tone wired to provoke. Maybe if Steve figures it out on his own, it'll save Adam the trouble of having to listen to the Iron bastard's bitching.

The touch soothes the weight on Steve's chest, eyes fixing on Adam as he desperately searches for answers in his gaze. It's a big decision - One he's never considered before. But now - It's all he can think about. A soft laugh falls from his lips, looking down as Adam's finger pokes his chest. It amazes him how he can immediately provide Steve with such confidence in his decision - He knows now that it's the right thing to do. "It's time." Though, Adam's words have sparked a memory. 'I ain't doin' it in the name of a shit country.'

"You calling the US a shithole reminds me of a guy I met back in the 40's. Said he couldn't understand why anyone would fight in the name of a 'shit country'." He laughs, shaking his head. "Feels like a full circle moment."

[bullsh1tterz]

"Yeah, so cute you'll bust the camera."

,,It's a war, everyone should be doing their bit to help. ,,

Now that's some pro-enlistment PSA shit if he's ever heard it. Adam can't fault Steve - someone so hell-bent on helping the world, of course he'd want to join the military at a point where it was thought to be the route. But the corruption, the injustice, the GLOBAL SUPERPOWER it serves - that, the photographer could never stand for. That, he knows Steve wouldn't. And so though he doesn't agree, he won't break his heart too much. Because yes, Steve Rogers, you'll get there, but you'll be so much more than just a military man. You'll be a good man, just as you are now. A good man capable of doing more good.

"Y've got a good heart, Steve." He says, gaze soft, with a hand slowly tapped against the man's knee as he himself leans to strike their eyes together as directly as he can. He's not lying. He's not just saying that. He means it, truly, painfully. "'n you'll do good with it. I know it. You'll help so many fuckin' people. I'm talkin' crazy numbers. Long as ya keep that good heart 'n check."

Steve's cheeks redden immediately, not helped by the alcohol that's already making him feel unsteady. Perks of being so skinny - he's a cheap date. "I'd prob'ly break the camera with my face." He grins, pulling his knees up to his chin as he looks over at Adam.

He listens, unsure what to think. It's an opinion he's never really heard before. Well, sure - Bucky is constantly telling him that he has a death wish trying to join the army but that's different. He's more concerned that Steve's gonna have an asthma attack in the trenches. "It's a war. Everyone should be doing their bit to help. If everyone had that attitude then who'd stand up to Germany?" His expression turns a little sour. "Doesn't matter anyway, they won't let me enlist. I've tried twelve different enlistment offices and they reject me every time." He scoffs out a laugh. "They're crying out for people to join and help - Taking every son and husband in Brooklyn, anyone who can fight gets to go but not me." He reaches for the bottle. "Do you know how shit it feels to be left behind? Knowing people are over there risking their lives and not being able to help? Sure, it's a death wish but I'm dying here anyway, at least if I was over there I'd feel like I was doing something to help with whatever time I've got left."

[bullsh1tterz]

"Oh, you fuckin' moron." Adam's not looking for a fight - never is, unless it's verbal, no - this is something far worse. Click of his tongue sounds as he gestures to the body, kneeling down as though there's any use in checking for life. They're gone. Vampire reduced to decay.

"This ain't about me! This-- ugh." He groans and pushes to the knees he'd knelt on to sit himself on the ground. Gentle index goes to poke the creature, rage contained somewhat beneath disappointment as he looks to the other. "This is one o' those union motherfuckers. Packs 'r- groups 'r... what-fuckin'-ever. Point is they're not gonna kiss ya softly for killin' him." A sigh. "And neither am I, asshole, cuz I was meant ta extract information outta the bloodsucker. Now what?" He throws his hands up and shakes them, brain wracking itself for some semblance of a plan.

@bullsh1tterz asked: “ you just made a big mistake.” ( to jace! )

THERE'S ONLY ONE PERSON IN THIS WORLD jace will take threats from. only one person who he truly and properly is terrified of. and this guy? is not him. eyes narrowing, he cants his head slightly right as he takes a deliberate, challenging step forward.

' ' oh yeah? and what are you gonna do about it, huh? call the cops? somehow i doubt it. ' ' he may have put the weapon that he'd just killed a vampire with away, but that didn't mean he was harmless if this man — who apparently was also a hunter — was looking for a fight for... what? for taking the vamp out before he got the chance, maybe? some kind of false sense of ownership over the job? hell if jace knew, and he didn't really care either, for that matter. what was done, was done. the monster was dead. people could walk the streets safely at night again. wasn't that all that mattered?

[bullsh1tterz]

BLOGROLL.

*denotes the blogs I focus on.

*@bullsh1tterz : Adam Faulkner-Stanheight, Saw.

@ca1nsheresy : Gabriel John Utterson, The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.

*@d4rkpassengerz : Dexter Morgan + Brian Moser & Joey Quinn, Dexter.

*@d1rtgrubz : Charlie Kelly, It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia.

@heywestcov1na : Greg Serrano, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

@hatt1tude : multi - ON HIATUS.

[bullsh1tterz]

Such a thing as comfort is impossible when scars of old come into play. The ones from the trap... sure, they hurt, the infected tightness at his ankle and the gaping bullet wound up near his shoulder... the memory of them is fresh, powerful, and yet nothing compared to that which he is about to spill.

"Keen eye. Really went gunnin' for the worst of 'em, Steve, god." The sizzle feels as though it'll return, deep breath taken and his entire form slowly slumped back into Steve's.

Come here. Let me touch your hair. Let me feel you behind me lest I slip away into what I say.

"... My grandfather* he, uh - had a funny concept of discipline." He reaches up to fiddle with the tip of Steve's blondness, pulling him gently to himself.

*STOP. STOP. STOP. He's dead. Good. Good. Fucking good.

"The scar y'see there the, uh, oval-ass mark. It's not just a one-time deal. Shit was never left to heal cuz he kept... well he really liked that spot cuz I couldn't reach it. He'd - He... Hah. Fuck, man." Silence, just for a second. Head dips. Chest gets heavier. Is it hotter in the room already? "He'd... heat it up on the stove till it got a little redd-ish, y'know, down the middle, and, uh, uh, haha. Ha. Y'know? He'd press it - push... push.. push it there and keep it till it fuckin' cooled." He can't control his body as it curls, Steve's touch imperative to ground him but his own form itching to enter itself as though to swallow his heart whole.

He can feel it. The area is numb, nerves long burnt, but he can feel the heat pushing there, burning the ends of skin too young to be wounded.

Steve's overwhelmed with this protective desire to shield Adam from the world. To keep him safe in this moment, in bed, just the two of them. He knows it's not realistic but he's always been a little intense when it comes to looking after the people he loves.

"Start with this one?" His hand traces over the spatula burn mark, propping himself up on his free arm so that he can lean closer to Adam. "Only if you're comfortable talking about it."

[bullsh1tterz]

It's different coming from Steve. Sounds real and genuine, like he truly means the ridiculous words coming out of his mouth. And Adam knows well enough that he does. So much so that he doesn't protest, defending himself, instead, by scoffing a bit.

He wants to ask about it.

"Hah."

The burns, the unhealed wounds, the fresh bruises...

He swallows a slump in his throat, leaning into the touch. "Which one?"

Which story do you want to hear, Steve Rogers, and do you truly think I'll stay so strong in your eyes when it's all out in the open?

Steve's touch is gentle, treating the scars with soft reverence for fear that anything else would make Adam uncomfortable. It's a vulnerable position to be in and he would never want to make it any more difficult. In fact, he's grateful for the chance to see Adam in every light, to be allowed to view this part of his story. Fingers gently trace over the burn mark, jaw tensing as he thinks about what caused it. How he wishes he could take that pain away. Empty platitudes mean nothing, he knows that, but he cannot help saying it. "There's not a single part of your body that's unpleasant." Steve's head dips, pressing a gentle kiss to the mark before trailing his lips up to ghost against Adam's shoulder. "Can I ask about it?"

[bullsh1tterz]

"Yep. Business as usual." He smiles. It's crude and mean - very cruel in the face of her anger - but it's all he can do when someone just doesn't get it. When someone is so functional as to believe Adam's only vice in the scheme of it all is the cash. No, no, and a little chuckle slips down. A painful, grating noise his body pushes out because it doesn't know what else to give the poor soul who thinks bullets and knives to the chest aren't exactly what he deserves. How could she know? He won't tell her. He won't tell anyone. But he'll laugh. Because it's so funny. It's so painful that it's funny.

"You had no fuckin' right ta intervene. I didn't ask ya to. I didn't want ya to Cemre, and you should know better than ta think y'know what people need." Need. Need. Need. What does Adam need? Probably not what he wants, but he's never been a man of priorities. He just fucking does things.

"Good on ya for noticin' the plain fuckin' obvious, bitch, but I think I'm good without this shit. I've been doin' this long enough to know what I'm in for. Don't need some rando steppin' in - go find a princess somewhere, I'm sure there're plenty." Tonge clicks, head shaking, traces of that smile gone into his usual frown. "If you really wanna make it so I don't go there, dangle some keys in my face. Distract me with a job o' yer own, moron." Advice. Why he's giving it is foreign to him, but it's sound enough for the cash of it.

CEMRE's smirk vanishes in an instant, replaced by something sharper, something colder. “Big whoop?" she echoes, voice clipped, the heat behind it barely contained.

“Big whoop—so what, you get a bullet in the skull one of these days, and that’s just business as usual? You think you’re some kind of tragic hardass because you’re too reckless to look past a paycheck?”

She steps in closer, chin lifted, eyes blazing. She’s not one to play the bleeding heart—never has been, never will be—but the sheer arrogance, the idiocy of it, makes her blood boil. If he wants to play the reckless, self-destructive fool, that’s his business. But he doesn’t get to snarl at her like she’s the problem here.

“I’m sure that’s working great for you, given the shit-stained life you’re barely clinging to. You can’t out-snarl a goddamn bullet, Adam. And you sure as hell can’t cash a paycheck when you're six feet under.”

Her jaw tightens. She hates this—hates how he wears his self-destruction like armor, how he spits in the face of self-preservation like it’s some kind of virtue.

Then, she gestures around them with a pointed flick of her fingers. “Go ahead, keep selling your soul for chump change. Die in a ditch FOR ALL I CARE —just don’t bark at me because I had the audacity to notice that you’re circling the drain.”

[bullsh1tterz]

Send "Icons only" and something for my muse to react to

And I will show my muse's reaction using only icons (1-5) and no text

[bullsh1tterz]

"Things I like." Pause, perfectly timed smirk. "Should take a picture o' you sometime." Might've been a bit too much, there, but poor Steve's been treated shit enough to need this, Adam figures. Not that that's any reason for him to flirt - he genuinely hasn't enough of a grip on himself not to.

"Army man, ey?" Little shake of his head. "Dunno if that's real fightin'. More like an idealistic death wish. Me, personally? Avoided military service. I don't give a shit if I die but I ain't doin' it in the name of a shit country, y'know? Who are they ta tell me when, how and who ta fight?" This must sound extremely bizarre to someone of Steve's time, but Adam only really figures that out after he's already said everything. And his solution? To add... "or whatever."

"You take photos?" Steve expression perks up, interested. He's never met a photographer before. He's only seen them at the Stark expos but never had the chance to talk to one. "That must be real interesting. What do you take pictures of?"

"I'm - Well, nothing as impressive as taking photos. I do odd jobs so I can afford my medicine but it's hard to get work with my asthma. And I'm not strong enough to work down at the shipping yard so -" He hates how bleak it makes him sound. "Bucky helps me out." He reaches for another drink. "But my main goal is to join the army. I want to fight."

[bullsh1tterz]

( @brooklyncapsicle )

“ if i go, he’ll leave you alone.”

"Don't give me that. C'mere." He leans against the other, arm wrapped around his back.

"This ain't the first or last time someone slaps me with a death threat. Y'know me. Y'know what I'm like 'n what I do for a livin'- o'course a shit tonna shmucks're gonna threaten my ass. An extra one really doesn't matter, Steve." He takes the man's head, slowly pressing it to his own shoulder. "Don't go. Don't go anywhere. I need you 'round. I'd sooner fuck a piece o' dog-shit wrapped in chopped up bull-cock than let ya go anywhere."

[bullsh1tterz]

( @spideysnaps )

"This is me pissed at you."

Blank stare at the other, Adam completely undeterred by the words thrown out. "If this is you pissed, Parker, I think I get why people're asses to ya now." He says, blunt as ever, brows only furrowed with some genuine concern for Peter's ability to stand up for himself. He better be hiding some hyper-vigilant alter ego at this rate, because no one can be that mild - at least not to Adam's standards.

"I'd tell ya ta calm y'tits but they don't seem ta be in a rile."

[bullsh1tterz]

"I know." The Hulk was... a force, but to call him a hero, to Adam, would be to insult him deeply. "That's why you're fine." Little shrug, glossed over as he listens to the man's agony put into a simple description. Silently, Adam can somewhat relate to two bits. Jelly bones... not so much.

"Sounds like shit." Ever the eloquent comforter. He clicks his tongue. He feels sorry for the man, but there's no way to express it without sounding mushy. So, he simply doesn't at all, holding the sleeve of his jacket out to the man instead. "Bite if it hurts." He says, in part to alert him of the disinfectant.

Steady palms flick into the kit, pulling bits of cotton out of a small sack and dabbing the tip of the container into them. Step by step, with a care he would never spare himself, he cleans the cut on the man's abdomen, sleeve still held mid-air like it's been forgotten there. But it's not, it's deliberate, because the bleeding is heavier at one bit which means he has to douse the cotton up in more of the liquid and press. As he does it, though, he speaks, hoping whatever he says would serve as a bit of a distraction.

"Say, y'ever think ta just jump off a cliff? Sounds less painful." Extremely sound advice to be giving an injured man, of course.

Ha. Banner thanks to himself, actually smiling at the other's mention of hating superheroes, part of him understands where he was coming from. Heroes weren't perfect, far from it.

❝ Yeah, well, I'm not much of one ❞ Banner points out, Is quite sure he's caused the Avengers and the rest of them far more problems than he'd ever help to solve, they'd be better off without him around at all, it's part of the reason he keeps his distance from them these days.

Glassy brown eyes glance up. Oh yeah, he knows that feeling, all too well. But putting it into words requires him to close his eyes and take a couple of deep breaths, focusing.

❝ Every inch of my head is pounding, my bones are jelly, and my skin is burning like I just shed it all ❞ Which he's supposed isn't too far from the truth. Decides it's better to spare the other him going into graphic detail.

❝ But those are just side effects from the transformation, just patch me up here, and here. I'll be good as new within a day ❞ He explains pointing to both the gash on his forehead, and the cut across on his abdomen. Medical school experience tells him they're nothing serious, at worst he might need a few stitches. With that in mind his eyes close tighter in anticipation of the sting that comes with disinfectant.