#mindrestored

her body had yet to adjust to wakanda and the fresh air that it brought. they’d been on the raft long enough to disorient her days and nights and finding a normal schedule was probably not in any part of her new future. terrors still startled her at all hours and this one left her breathless in a darkened room. outside, the nature sung it’s siren song and pulled her from her bed and entranced her outside. 

but, she found out she wasn’t alone tonight. a small smile lifted at her lips when she focused on a dark mess of curls outside. resting her shoulder against the threshold of the door, she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“ you’re up late, “ she said, trying not to startle him, “ care for some company? “

It was a well-placed statement said to someone who had lived to see countless wars: American Revolution, Civil War, WWI, WWII, all of them and more. Didn’t mean she fought in them--why would she?--but she had seen them in their midst, had seen their conclusions, how they hurt the land and people around them, how their lasting effects never truly went away. Manifested time and time again later in life, though perhaps not to the same severity. Perhaps the underlying causes as to why wars were being fought were different from one another to some degree, but in the grand scheme of things? What was the issue? Freedom. Control. Power. And how easily those conflicts could be moved. They weren’t bag checked. They weren’t screened. TSA couldn’t take them away.

“Is a war ever really ended?” The question didn’t need an answer. “No. It always finds a way back.”

“If I knew the answer to that--” The question of the century, wasn’t it? The beginning of all the problems. Of any problem, really. Sometimes it could be pinpointed, carefully selected like a location on a map. That’s where things went bad and y’know what it makes sense because here was the wrong turn we had taken that set everything aflame. Sometimes, though, it was obscured, covered by heavy fog. Missing a crucial puzzle piece that would reveal the full picture, unveil all the necessary answers. 

What was worse? Not knowing and struggling to guess? Or knowing but being unable to rewind and change it all? Which would drive a person crazier? Which would shape the future into the way it was meant to be? 

Loki’s pause was short but not short enough, and when he return to the present he attempted a smile. “--Well, we wouldn’t be here.”

soft sentence starters: accepting!

Steve wasn’t really good at much– he had his art, and he prided himself in that, at least. His morals, also, were something that one could bring home to their mother. Bucky often bragged about how good a pal his smaller friend was, and although the slender blond appreciated the flattery, he really didn’t think very highly of himself, much less anything he really did. And although he had his morals, and art, and a fierce friendship that was undying… cooking was something that was a foreign concept to the boy, and he knew he could never redeem himself in that regard.

But he tried: boy howdy, did he ever try. 

Especially for Bucky.

At the first few words, Steve hung on every syllable, tilting his head so his good ear was facing his best friend. He wanted to hear what Bucky had to say, and he hoped beyond all hope that it was something good. He wasn’t about to hold his breath about it, however, when the pause was followed by what he could determine was a sigh. Maybe his gut clenched a bit, because he really did want to make a good meal for his best fella… but he couldn’t be the only one to blame for this mediocre dinner for his hard working roommate.

Bucky pretty well shouldered all the hard labour himself, working shift after shift, and sometimes even double shifts when he could, just so the two of them could make ends meet. Steve tried to sell his art to make up his part of the income, but there was only so much that appealed to an audience in their area– and he’d been suggested to start up other… services… that may help them make extra money. Enough to pay the bills, and make rent. He was, rather incredulously, a bit popular among the sketchier parts of their neighbourhood. The parts of the lower East side that harboured sailors looking for a cheap thrill after a night of drinking.

Steve swallows down the fleeting thought along with his bland and tough meat. It hits his stomach as nauseatingly as anything else typically did these days.

“Hey, Buck.” he starts, turning his eyes down to his plate to shove his food around: he isn’t very hungry anymore. And it isn’t Bucky’s fault either that he doesn’t like the meal. The least Steve could do was make a good meal for his hard working man, God damn it… and he couldn’t provide. The blond chokes down another bite with a sigh threatening to escape. “How ‘bout ya shut up and just eat your food, huh?”

   ❝ OH ─ i know . . . ❞

a rabid cur at its finest ,, but he's calmer than their first night in the island . at least now they have fire . and armitage is warmer .

lilo and stitch meme || accepting. 

                   “ man _________________ you are aware that lying is a sin, right ? the lord especially frowns on bold face lies like that, i hear. what do you take me for, a fool? ”