portraitoftheoddity:Humans were incredible things. They always had been. Exposed to pain constantly
portraitoftheoddity:Humans were incredible things. They always had been. Exposed to pain constantly for long enough, they could become used to it, accepting of it, to the point where they forgot what it was like to not be in pain. The same could be said of the hum and the vibrations of the bike beneath him.He knew that once, back when he’d first stumbled across this old Indian, it had seemed too loud, too rough. Now, though, he forgot about it, forgot that he’d known no noise other than it and the occasional crunch of his own footsteps over the crust of the dirt. Forgot that, once, he had been able to get from one place to the next within a single afternoon, on real roads, gravel roads, that didn’t kick up dust and coat his throat.He deserved the discomfort though, because of what he couldn’t forget. Because he knew that he was responsible for this.Humans were incredible things. But even with as modified as he was, as strong as the good doctor and Stark could make him, there were a few pains that he could never quite come to terms with. Not the physical ones. But the Misery. The guilt.He was meant to save people, to inspire hope. Once, he had tried to let himself be that. Tried to give himself that, to make it his mission… now he stayed as far from people as possible. The hope in their eyes felt like knives, and not seeing it there felt like failure.So he was left with himself, his thoughts, his guilt, and the rattle of his bike.And this wretched heat that made his back stick to the back of his own shirt.He wasn’t driving aimlessly, though. There had to be one person who didn’t see him as the statue without a pedestal. He had to have survived. That was what Bucky did, was survive. He’d lived through ice, and years, electricity being poured into his brain. Lived through abuse and assignments and assassinations… surely he lived through some sand, some heat.He was out there, somewhere, wandering the great waste, and every gleaming light on the horizon made Steve’s mouth firm a bit. He hunkered down against the bike, tucking his face behind his shield, which he’d mounted at the front– no longer bright colors, now just a dust collector, stripped of all its grandeur. Like the Earth.Like him.From Chapter 1 of What A Lovely Day by mostfacinorous - the Avengers/Fury Road AU you never knew you wanted. Guess who definitely can’t stop looking at how gorgeous these are? Spoilers: definitely me. -- source link
#mad max#steve rogers