#cryofcrged

“ sometimes suffering is just suffering. ” -- @cryofcrged

@cryofcrged   said  :  ❝ today isn’t your day, is it? ❞   ( x )                         ------ bucky  &  nat

TO  SAY  SHE’S  HAD  BETTER  DAYS   might  be  the  understatement  of  the  century.  her  favorite  gun  is  undoubtedly   rusting  at  the  bottom  of  the  pacific  ocean,   her  suit  is  soaking   wet,   and  to  top  it  all  off,   the  bad  guys  got  away.   none  of  this  is  his  fault,   of  course,   but   with  his  dry  form  looming  over  her  soggy   self,   nat  is  finding  it  a  bit  difficult  to  see  reason.

the syllables between them tend to break at the ends of the ropes, the bridges hanging in the midst of it all swaying with no resolution. there’s naught stiffened enough to capture the maladies between them, to render them coagulated enough so that the issues could be tackled, talked. it feels like that for the both of them; after all, aren’t they the ghosts of the history streaked by murders? traumas so embedded in their psyche that they do not know how to look into their reflections in the mirror without wanting to gouge their eyes out. at the end of the day, they are the poltergeists, outside and inside. the ones plaguing them like nightmares are still parts of them regardless. and they run, run, run, they splinter their shins. in does not matter, how much they have started remembering, realising... james more than bucky. they were still the toy soldiers with shattered heads, their bodies possessed by the shadows that are of hydra’s filaments, limbs strung so tightly they forgot what it was like to be more humans than monsters. but that was the objective, anyway.

and even now, there are still missions. mercenaries. ones that are targeting the remnants of hydra specifically: they wreck what they can. call it a riot, revolt. they’re anything but. they’re not here to eliminate evil per se—their motives not entirely altruistic. hydra bases are not exactly the most apparent, their incognito ones tracked via a walk to remember, but it feels odd. guidance offered by the amnesiacs isn’t exactly the route to follow blindly via faith, but here they are, arriving in the motel they managed to score a room for a good price, proximity checked with the aimed base. and after they are done, returning via the fire exit, james looks at his older twin with a rather questioning gaze, seated on the edge of one bed with his eyes roaming across his brother’s features. after the masks are off, they’re brandishing their weary veneer, one that simply keeps them from falling apart in the shatter entirely. “would you like some chinese takeaway?” he asks bucky, eventually resorting to pretending that he wasn’t on the verge of breaking down at the sight of the cryostatis chamber in that vast underground base. “you can shower first, i’ll just... call them first so they can get it ready.” and he needs to recompose himself, too. thinks about how they can afford so much more now that money isn’t exactly a problem, but he doesn’t feel like anything too heavy.

is that what you think i have? an endless rolling of the clock as though her youth somehow exempted her from their expectations; it has never been the case, not even when pyotr still watched over her. he hides in his shadows, ever the careful eye as though she does not feel his very gaze on her skin like a wet touch of the hand. 

the truth of it is this: she has one chance to prove she can be the black widow, that she can take the responsibility of all they have trained her for, that she can handle the mantle better than anyone who has come before. she can do this, she can. and Зимний Солдат will see who is the real widow.

❛   put the gun away. it's annoying that i have to tell you twice.  ❜  

SHE'S     BATHED     IN     RED     .          red     sweater     /     red     fingers     /     red     blanket     draped     over     her     knees     .          looks     at     home     nestled     within     hue     in     a     way     she     never     did     when     she     was     young     &&     whole     &&     unharmed     .          ❛          hydra     ,     correct     ?          ❜          eyes     glance     at     his     arm     for     one     beat     ,     two     ,     before     fingers     pluck     up     a     cookie     from     the     plate     on     display     beside     her     &&     teeth     crack     it     in     two     .          a     little     too     crunchy     for     her     tastes     but     no     less     delicious     .          ❛          ---     assholes     ,     am     i     right     ?          ❜    

HE  STIFLES  THE  SCOFF   that  makes  its  home  in  the  back  of  his  throat.  christ,  what  a  fucking  load  of  melodrama.  the  world  johnny  thought  he  always  knew  had  been  twisted  and  mangled  and  turned  into  something  he’d  never  recognize.   it  makes  him  think  that  they’re  all  pawns  in  a  bigger  game   ------naive  to  the  way  the  world  really  works.  but  expectation  is  something  else,   something  different,  something  painful  when  reality  turns  in  another  direction.  he  can  relate.  flesh  taps  metal  and  he  doesn’t  even  realize  he’s  doing  it  until  the  tips  of  his  fingers  turn  numb.

he  thinks  this  one  might  know  something  about  that,  too.

         ❛  and  what  is  it  that  you  expected  ?   ❜    

maybe  on  another  day,   in  a  different  time,   there  might  have  been  an  edge  to  the  question   ---   some  bitterness  floating  just  beneath  the  surface.   maybe  a  few  months,   weeks,   hell   ------days   ago,   he  would  have  met  it  with  a  sarcastic  quip  and  indifferent  wave  of  his  hand.   a  whole  lifetime  has  passed  since  then,   and  there’s  something  shockingly  sincere  about  the  words,   the  way  his  eyes  open  and  peer  at  him  as  if  searching  for  the  answers  he  thought  he’d  never  get.

          ❛  ‘cause  i’m  beginning  to  think  i  don’t  know  shit  about  this  world,   ya  know  ?   ❜     he  pulls  from  the  cigarette  dangling  between  his  fingers,   mentally  cursing  the  name  of  every  megacorp  that  rots  the  city  from  the  inside  out.     ❛  and  that  maybe  i  never  did.   ❜