HOW MUCH HAD HE FUCKING MISSING?    (   Not that this is the first time he’s been taken by surprise at the appearance of the other man. But since airing out that particular mix-up about HYDRA, he thought they had been all squared away.   )   Not looking to deliver another kick to the guy’s face, Peter approaches more subtly this time around.    “    Hey, Tommy.    ”    (   Alight, so slightly more subtly.   )    Careful to avoid any potential eavesdroppers, he leans in closer.    “    You know I’m all about a secret identity    ——-    but you coulda picked something a little less goyish.    ”

SHE’S NEVER CARED MUCH FOR GUNS   ——-    too heavy, too much to manage when the nature of the game is to move as quickly as possible, the bites pressed to woven veins of her wrist always offering more comfort than a firearm every could.

It’s not quite a gun that sits in her lap, but it feels loaded all the same.    (    He seems to forget she had been the one who leveled it at him. He seems to not care.    )

“    She’s protected.   ”    The answer, the standard, sticks to her lips like something poorly rolled and not quite potent enough to calm the nerves. It offers interference to the question she could ask, the one that had found a way to the back of her throat at the start of this loosely-defined negotiation.    (    It’s better not to ask people to trust in this line of work, and when it’s beneficial it is best not to question when they do.    )    She waits, instead, for something. For him to rest easy in the comfort of the agency. But she doesn’t question when her own restlessness takes hold, either.    “   ——-    I’ll make sure of it.    ”    

Guns are clunky, extra weight where her survival is based on mobility. Somehow, though, the weight of another doesn’t.

❝     I have to ask : what do you hope to gain from this     ?     ❞

He certainly has some assumptions rattling around, but Stephen isn’t about to go rooting through another man’s tepid trauma without an end goal in mind.

It would END today --- Steve would be certain of it. He tried to imagine it: he tried to imagine Brock Rumlow, grinning and calm and cruel. ( They had fought together so many times, you’d think the sight of Rumlow would be burned into his goddamn brain by now. ) Steve couldn’t sit still with it. He tried pacing along the length of the plane, wondering HOW LONG it would take to reach Rzeszów; he tried sitting still, keeping his thoughts locked beneath his tongue. IT DIDN’T WORK. 

He hadn’t felt this antsy during a mission since that first time he slung a shield over his back and headed straight into Hell’s mouth to find Bucky lying in --- 

( And maybe that was it, that reason that existed beyond duty, beyond finally seeing the end of this chapter of HYDRA --- maybe that was the reason that Steve felt such a depth of RAGE, of a sickening, rotting hatred that kept pushing him FORWARD, FORWARD toward this conclusion. Rumlow represented it all, every bad fucking thing that had happened to SHIELD, to Steve, to Bucky... )

Steve let out a sigh, went to sit beside Bucky. How many times had they done this --- sat side by side, heading into another fight? It seemed etched into their story. 

something metallic coats her throat and she swears  ---  she SWEARS she can smell snow blowing off wundagore mountain. smoke from charred flesh pluming between fingers. sickly sweet,  like a name, maybe her name spoken soft by someone who once loved her. it’s a memory so visceral yet fractured,  jessica can’t bring herself to look over shoulder in fear of catching these nightmares wearing faces.

or nothing at all. she’s unsure which is worse.

his attempts to  (  possibly  )  soothe are met with stiff back. it’s not HIS fault,  but jess can still vividly recall a time when those same words were john hancock’s on her death warrant. how the winter soldier was never used to encourage  (  rather showcased as their living breathing boogeyman. do you WANT a fate similar,  jessica ? your mind is your one comfort,  they have no qualms ripping the person from the body here  ---  )  how she willingly DESTROYED herself just for a taste of what it meant to belong. how  ...  if she gave her then young heart a voice,  the very man offering observational guidance would’ve put a bullet through her on their loaned orders. and afterwards he'd be none the wiser. she’d never see him coming. forced to watch her back until one fateful day  --------------------

❝  you don’t ?  ❞  this isn’t the time nor place,  fuzzy black lines threatening her peripherals receding until jessica is aware they’re huddled within a chilly break room. that the metal obstructing her mouth is cutlery and not a muzzle.  ❝  doubt me.  ❞   in the end what difference did any of it make. he’s no longer the winter soldier and she’s still peaking under every rock for a comeuppance from those who claim ownership to their bodies. living as ghosts while the ghouls responsible faced no satisfying end.

BREAKING : Following Wonder Woman’s recent confrontation with Giganta in Midtown, a reward is being offered to all those with information regarding Wonder Woman's masked accomplice.

HEADCANON     :     /     HAL JORDAN

This is an interesting question. Given the history of persecution against both of his parents’ religions, and given Hal’s father’s pretty ardent anti - religious tendencies, one would think Hal would have shirked away from the idea of a higher power     (     or powers     )     . But that isn’t quite the case.

The fact is, Martin Jordan always felt religion was to blame for the Ott*oman persecution and Ge*nocide of his people. He was a first generation immigrant child of Ar*menian Ge*nocide survivors and blamed both I*slam for the actions of the Ott*oman T*urks, and Ch*ristianity for not protecting his family and people. Of course, this stance was an oversimplification and acted more as a rationalization for a man who needed to rationalize everything about the world around him.

Jessica, meanwhile, was Mi*zrahi Jew*ish from Pal*estine whose family first moved to Leb*anon to stay with relatives during the A*rab - Israe*li war in 1948, before relocating to California during the Le*banese Civil War. Her faith was incredibly culturally - ingrained, but she refrained from explicit practice out of respect for Martin’s disdain.

Despite all of this, Hal and his brothers were raised with a strong sense of morality founded in the basic tenants of the Abra*hamic Faiths. When Martin died, Hal found himself wondering if maybe God was mad at his father for having been disdainful, but Jessica’s view of a higher power was never rooted in spite or anger. To that effect, Hal’s opinion of who or what     ❝     God     ❞     could be is not based in Fear, largely thanks to his mother and her positive influence. 

𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎, 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎, 𝚒 𝚊𝚒𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚘 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎.