comesfrompain: (Default)
Brock Rumlow ([personal profile] comesfrompain) wrote2016-07-07 10:55 pm

[ to-do list ]



1) Put Rogers' head on a spike
2) Take over Hell
3) Unbreak Bucky's dick
4) Buy milk


disassembling: (WS - Washed out)

[personal profile] disassembling 2017-01-10 06:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[They were a highly effective team, moving through their writhing opponents with a swift ease that allowed them to slipped passed each other. He never felt at risk of causing Rumlow damage, felt the caress of black smoke that came with the other man's teleportation, and the hot spray of blood that sometimes froze midair. It was, perhaps, the first time that he had been able to employ his power outside of the house, the first time that it could be used as a weapon rather than simply cooling the air. It was novel and yet he felt as if there were no risks to each other.

It almost seemed too quick that it was over, his clothing and face spattered with blood, his hair clinging to his cheeks and the twitching bodies of broken demons at their feet. He glanced around to make certain that there was no one in range before he turned his attention to Rumlow, doing a quick sweep of his eyes to make certain that there were no serious injuries present. Scrapes and bruises were par for the course but anything more than that... but there was nothing apparent. Rumlow seemed to be in high spirits.

Slowly, he bent and cleaned his knives, though they would need something more thorough when they finally returned home. The hilts were still sticky with the stuff, and he raised an eyebrow at the grin on Rumlow's face, unable to help how his lips twitched upwards in response. He sighed as their lips came together, sliding his metal arm across the back of Rumlow's shoulders and then curling his wings around them to offer some small sliver of privacy. He was almost overwhelmed by the strength of Rumlow's feelings, drowning in them and feeling all that fear shoved down further and further.

He gripped Rumlow's shirt in his hand and kissed back, pouring his own broken and sometimes confused emotions into the gesture. There was the sound of distant sirens, and that was perhaps the only thing that forced him away.]


We should be gone from this place. Come. [He took Rumlow's hand, pulling away and tugging his lover to follow him as he lead them from the alley]
disassembling: (WS - Holding back)

[personal profile] disassembling 2017-01-11 06:04 am (UTC)(link)
[On their meandering back to their own neck of Little Hades, he withdrew his wings into his flesh again. They were in the way, easily identified along with his metal arm, and they had already ruined his shirt. In fact, he was certain most of his clothing was ruined. It wasn't as if he had been avoiding the blood as much as he probably should have been, but in the heat of the moment, it hadn't seemed necessary.

Now the adrenaline was waxing, and he felt a deep exhaustion that had more to do with all the emotional upheaval than anything that he had done physically. It would have been easy to drift off on some mental tangent, analyzing what had happened, what had been said, his own mixed up emotions on the matter, but the tangle of their fingers together grounded him on the present.

He looked down the street towards the house that they rented with Chase and reached up with his metal hand to wipe at the dried blood that clung to his skin. It itched a bit, and it flaked off when he rubbed at it, but there was a lot more where it had come from. At least his clothing was dark; it hid a lot of the mess that had been made of his casual attire.

Bucky hummed softly as Rumlow once more crowded him, though there was no wall to be pushed up against. He simply rooted himself, leaning into the solid weight in front of him and closed his eyes as they kissed, sharing yet another tireless show of affection. He still felt exhausted, drained and somewhat empty, and he found himself peering into Rumlow's brown eyes before he had to close them at the words that washed over him. He nodded his head, taking in a deep breath.]


I think... I understand that now. [He squeezed where their fingers were still tangled together.] I feel so empty, like all of my emotions have fled and I'm just this empty shell that might be something more after some sleep. Is that normal?