alpha-female-shit

[destage]

@avengehe     [ … ]     “ i’m going to regret this, aren’t i? ”

but what does she know about those they call heroes and their laundry list of regrets?    there are no wise - words,     no well - worn phrases she can pull out as a balm to the soul,    soothing the blisters caught on hands that keep forcing into the fire.    her regrets fall as rose petals,    colour the shade of her cheeks as she twirls a slowly disintegrating paper straw around an ice latte mostly melted.    there’s amusement that tickles over skin only freckled when people get close enough to see,    imagines herself offering out the list of mistakes and bad days and hands on her body when they never should have got close;     would it help him to know that ordinary people still taste bile at the back of their throats?      ❛  you might do.    i’ve got no idea...  ❜      her mother called her cold,     pressed the word into her cheeks on the rare occasion she would kiss them,    writing unlovable over veins until her blood could not separate it from her own name.    she’d be comforting if she could summon it out,    would say the right thing in the way she’s imagined herself over and over again,    would be able to rewrite the odd phrase so it couldn’t cause anything other than showing that she cares.     and she does,    under it all,   achingly so.      ❛   but right now you don’t know whether you will or you won’t,    and at least if you do it,    you’ll know whether you will or won’t.    no worrying about if you should have done it.   ❜

[destage]

CAST ( IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE )   ,     AVENGHE IN THE ROLE OF STEVE ROGERS  ,     DESTAGE IN THE ROLE OF JAMES ‘BUCKY’ BARNES  .     TAYLOR SWIFT MEME.    ,      ​  ❛   AND I LOST YOU.   ❜

imagine a man made in your image,     bones twisted and reshaped and fed on stories of heroics and patriotism until they clouded his blood,    until the very essence of old ideals was all they could find when they cracked his ribs wide open.    and now he is standing amongst the ashes of what he became,    aching,    burning,    with palms coated in a blood as deep as the decades,    red wreckage marking pathways through all the places he has been.    bitterness sits heavy at the back of the tongue,    and he cannot remember when it began to take root,   in a training ground,     on a field ripped through with trenches,    in dark holding cells where the essence of him was dissected and taken away.     it lingers there,    curdles in the blood as it meets all the affection that still lives on,    a slate he cannot wipe clean even when he thinks it might be easier to linger on the bruises.     idolisation lays thick in his body,   a mulch beaten down underfoot,    stepped on almost to nothingness,    but stubborn in the way he cannot set it back.         ❛   that was the way of the world back then.   ❜        he’s distant,    voice closed off;     they both know the stench of death as it came over the parapet,     the squelch in shoes traced back to dirt or bodies and sticking until it was certain to be traced in to any room after.    even now,    with his memories so fragmented and fractured,     he cannot escape the scent of burning,    the screams he hears every time he closes his eyes.     they should be used to losing by now.     does @avengehe hear them too?        ❛   plenty of better men died.    my death was no different.   ❜       except,    he didn’t have the decency to stay dead.