you can't recognize me, and i can't recognize you.

       [  beth was used to such things by now,           suspicious looks, second glances…           she really didn’t pay much attention to           the woman until she spoke, requesting           her name. she should just lie. yes, she           should just spit out the first name that            came to mind. but they took her name,           and exchanged it for a number. this           was who she was; she couldn’t lose that  ]

             ❝ Beth. ❞

               [ the name echoed through her thoughts,                  her memories, and straight into her subconscious.                  she didn't know it, but there was something                  wrong. something about that name was wrong ]

       "A pleasure to help, Beth."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes, and stands over the woman. “Well first, you could calm down and not look like I just punched you in the face. Second,” she holds out her hand to her, still on the floor, “you need a hand to get up?”

            Look Miss, I don't need help. Bucky wanted to say.             But the phrase seemed to grow older than she was.             Maybe she didn't want it, but maybe this time ––- just this once: 

        Maybe she could just take it. 

      “I’m not mad at you.” 

            She took a deep breath, watching her             carefully as she stood there. She didn’t             know what to say, or what made sense.

                          “And no one has called me Natalia                            a long time.” 

           She shouldn't have come. It was            as if every single choice Bucky made            ever since HYDRA fell was one that            made out of confusion and the            need to understand.

                            "Its Natasha now," She thought                                 aloud; her voice was just above                                a murmur. Clearing her throat,                            she spoke up.

Gail shrugs. “That’s no excuse. I try to be mean only to people I know,” she said. She shifts a bit more. It was awkward to try and be nice, but Gail had been putting effort into it lately. “Can I buy you a drink to apologize?” she asked. That’s what people did when they were being nice, right? It was worth a shot.

       The woman's words didn't make much sense,        but Bucky gave a single nod anyway.

                              "A wise man once told me                                          to always accept a free                                          drink when offered."

       She glanced at the woman with a faint smile.

        “No. Unfortunately, I’m too busy in my own line of work.                   Oh? If not badges, then what?”

                                    [ she had her scars. those were her markers. ]

          "Memories."

  ☭│    ❝Hi? ❞

                 He raises a brow, equally stumped.                It was hard to form words, find the right                response. Bucky wasn’t really sure how                 he even felt about this. How was he?                     It was plain crazy.

         "––- can I come in?"

                   Her voice was hesitant and she tried not                      to wear the scrutinizing expression she              felt coming on, because she was suddenly

                                                   t e r r i f i e d

    From the moment Doctor Abraham Erskine     told her about an experiment that would certainly     change her life, she never once  hesitated. Not     once. 

           But then Bucky always            clouded her memories.            She couldn’t help but            w o n d e r. What she            would even think. 

    They never got the chance to talk about it.     The moment she found Bucky strapped to      the chair— it all got pushed aside.

            “Me? Never. You’re tough             you can handle a few bumps             and bruises.” 

    It was the truth——- “S a good thing I told ‘em     I was takin an early night.”

       [ you're tough ]

       At those words, Jamia gave another short laugh and        scrunched her nose at the stinging that followed the        quick motion. Her smile melted into a slight grimace        and she arched a brow at Steph, unconvinced.

                                    It's not the  b u m p s  and bruises                                                     that she worried about.

        "'m afraid dancing around the tent           to the usual tunes is out of the           question, though. Not with these           stompers, anyway. Me gettin' a           head rush would be completely           unrelated."

                      She placed her hands on either side of                       the edge of the cot and studied her friend.

DRAFTS I owe:

capinheels defiiled malignxnce hardtopeck tredecxm intxlligent green-arrxw aspecificskillset redheadedrevolutionary arachnxa charlesxaviersworld sixthsavage leeurbaneverett

[ please let me know if I missed you ]

STARTERS I need to start:

[1] for soldatzimy, pristiines, xrachnid

OTHER things I need to do:

i.  update my verses page ii. yeah