my sides have left the orbit

“Chasing sunsets has always been a habit,” you had one hand on the front door knob, but was hesitating a response.

“I labeled your lunches for the week in the fridge. It doesn’t matter what day you take what, but don’t let the chicken broth sit too long. remember what happened last time?”

I drew a pause into my lungs to reflect on the smell I could still taste on my nose. A growing smile momentarily crippled my stance. “Not everyone leaves, you know,” I said catching my bearings. “It’s about finding the moments worth revisiting. How long has it been now?”

The door closed softly on your heel, as I wondered how long being alone would feel like a script I couldn’t stop reading.

Something white by your pillow when you woke, it had corners but it didn’t
have to be paper. “I told you the bad about me so you’d know from the start,” it began.

You sighed because we’d been through this. But you made a little smile to go with the sigh and went on, “There’s a spot in your mind, or places I have taken residence and it is less about staying than about lighting up those parts of you over and over until you associate me with what makes you happy.

"I eat and drink when I’m alone but with you I could do without it, with you I see each staggered line and all I want to do is take your early pain and rinse it with the sea, lathered under the sun.

"Because even if you dream of love and put with it another face, I would aim the tides to shift your sails, even if my own face receded from your memory because I would do anything to give you a new pain, something different, anything than what he left you.

Yes, I love someone else. And isn’t
that grand? It’s wonderful and I enjoy the way it sears into my flesh when I think of your skin on it and could care less for the touch than the thought of you by my side. I go through it every day and I accept that. Because you could never be shared, never be anyone’s other than what they revolved around, and you have me in some fucked up orbit of my own making that I can’t let go of. And all I see is good and it’s you.

"The handwriting here is not the best but I digress. The chicken broth was wonderful, since I supposed I should get that first and when I woke early this morning, kneeling in the pew, all I could think of was kneeling, biting at your knees and asking if you wanted me.

"But I won’t leave, not if you said no and not if you didn’t want me to and I hope you rested a bit better last night.”

Orbits

I’m not used to such long nails

            claws, slicing the air in orbits, by my side

Our children have left the house at this point

            and I’m not the twenty something maiden that knows everything

We sit in silence in the kitchen, wondering

Were the costs worth it all

            does my visage make up for three lost ones

But back to the maiden again

Late at night, water fountain fading softer and softer

Clouds moving too quickly over the blood red sign of the Empire Hotel

             contrast, brightness turned way up

And I’m too drunk to move my parched, swollen tongue

And we’re back at the kitchen table, decades from now

Sunniness much darker than this night

Asking ourselves questions I can’t even begin to form

            I’d only be so lucky to learn about price, cost, sacrifice

The bravest thing would be to be a mother

                                             to be your wife

Only thing I can wish for myself is not to be presented with a choice

Witness

All these bodies around me whisper

That this terror will never my body

                                               solid in my marrow. 

a scattering of stars

“I am Groot.”

“I don’t know what that means, pal, but thanks,” Steve says  hunching over with his elbows on his knees, fingers dangling loose between his legs.

“I am Groot,” Groot says softly, or as softly as a medium sized Ent can, as he pats Steve on the shoulder and finds a corner to settle down in. Steve wonders if it’s rude to stare as Groot’s branches spread out across the metal wall.

He flicks his eyes out to the port window but he doesn’t really see the view, mind still stuck on the image of Darcy and Quill flirting and dancing. He’s annoyed with himself for  letting his emotions get the better of him. He had absolutely no right to feel jealous when Darcy wasn’t his girl,even though that is an old fashioned sentiment that didn’t belong in the future. The future, he muses, really  couldn’t get more in the future than they were.  At least Groot was leaving him to brood in peace. Steve is so far lost in thought he never hears the door open.

“Space penny for your thoughts,” Darcy says as she slips into his hidey hole. Not that he was hiding, much.  

“Are there pennies in galactic currency?” Steve asks brow quirking up as he shifts to the side.  

“I have no clue.”

“I am Groot,” Groot rumbles from his corner.

“Sure are, buddy,” Darcy smiles and perches on the bench beside Steve her arm brushing against his. “You’re being weird, Rogers.”

“We slipped through a wormhole in space, travelled in a spaceship to a mining colony of outlaws that just so happens to be the remains of the skull of a creature beyond imagining, filled with aliens, a sentient tree, no offence Groot,”  he says looking up and offering Groot a sheepish wave. “…and my silence is weird.”

“Well, when you put it that way. But really what have you got against…Star-Lord.”

“he really calls himself that?”

“I’ve heard worse, Captain America, probably called people worse too,” Darcy grins and bumps her shoulder against his.

“True enough.” Steve says the left side of his mouth hitching up. They sit in silence side by side eyes fixed on the portal showing the planet the orbit and a glimpse of distant stars. Darcy’s hand brushes against his and Steve returns the touch until their fingers tangle together and Steve’s heart rattles against the cage of his ribs. “Not that I want you to go, but aren’t you meant to be assisting Dr Foster?”

“Eh, Thor took her off to see some stars, before she turned Bright Heart into a handbag for messing with her equipment,” Darcy says, her face scrunched up and she darted her eyes up to his. “Totally not a euphemism.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, staring out the small portal at the purple clouds beyond the colony. Steve’s heart speeding each time Darcy’s thumb rubs again his hand. Groot is quiet in the corner mouthing at a new leaf growing on his arm.

Darcy squeezes his hand tight, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “That’s gross.” Her lips brush against the shell of his ear and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Yeah it is,” Steve whispers back, into the loose waves of her dark hair. Darcy shivers and Steve’s mouth spreads into a wide grin.

“You never said what you have against, Peter,” she asks, curious eyes on his face. Steve drops his eyes to their hands, focusing on the chipped blue nail polish on her fingers. The sound of Groot’s snoring echoes through the room, There is something far too disturbing to think about a walking tree snoring like a chainsaw.

“Nothin’,” he says finally bringing his eyes up to hers. Darcy lips compress into a thin line and she tilts her head to the side, dark hair tumbling over her shoulder. “What?”

“Did you just lie to me?”

“No,” he says, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into his bottom lip, or hers. The image of kissing her flits behind his eyes and he glances down at her pink lips.

“Oh no you don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Get to distract me with kisses.”

“Is that what I was doing?” he asks, brows shooting up in, mostly feigned, surprise. She hums and moves to cross her arms, but her hand is still in his and the movement is awkward. Darcy’s cheeks heat up and she huffs out a little breath, her fingers clasping tighter to his hand. “What if I admit that I felt… a little jeal-,”

“Shut up.”

“You just-”

“Shut up,” Darcy says slapping her free hand over his mouth. Steve’s eyebrows raise and he is considering flicking his tongue out across the flat of her palm when she pulls her hand away and and presses her mouth to his. They kiss with a cloud of stars and a sleeping tree as witness.

AO3

anonymous asked:

I'm sure you've answered this before but I can't find it anywhere, what's the story behind having one eye? (If you're cool with me asking)

So, I actually don’t think I’ve told this story on here before. I don’t know, I’ve told it so many times they all kinda run together! To do this, I have to tell the whole story- so here it goes:

4 June 2006, near Taji, Iraq: After being out on a presence patrol for a little over 24 hours, my crew and I had just finished putting the tank to bed, and were getting ourselves cleaned up. We’d gone to eat lunch, and I had just returned from the showers. I was all set to take a nap before dinner, when my platoon leader started pounding on my door. He told me a sad tale of his piece of shit tank being broken, and informed me he was taking my tank instead. I told him to take a long walk off a short pier, my tank wasn’t going anywhere, with anyone other than me. When you’re signed for a piece of equipment worth more than all of the money I’d ever made, and probably ever would make, you tend to be a little stingy with it. He then proceeded to try and pull rank on me, which any other time would have been hilarious. So I told him he could ride on it, but I was going along. My driver told him the same thing- go figure! We hauled ass, got ready to go, and found ourselves rolling back out the gate about twenty minutes later. My LT, myself gunning, my driver and our platoon medic riding in the loader’s hatch. I don’t remember any of this, I just know it because I’ve been told so many times by the guys who were there. We were almost to our RP (release point), when a very large IED was remote detonated under my tank. We were probably going 45-50 mph, so our momentum carried us over the newly formed crater where a fifty foot section of paved road used to be. My wing man was in the lead position, and because it was a canal road, with huge (in this case, dry) canals on each side, he had to eventually pivot steer to turn around, all while under fire from RPG’s and various other small arms. The enemies complex ambush really turned against them at that point- out of thirty two fighters in the ambush, two were captured. All the rest died, I’m sure “gloriously”, in place. My platoon leader and our medic both died of wounds, my driver suffered a pretty bad TBI and shrapnel wounds. Me? I had almost every bone in my body broken, to include twelve vertebrae, my skull and all four extremities. My left orbital socket was shattered, and that shot fragments (along with a little shrapnel) throughput the left side of my face. One little bitty piece of bone partially severed the optic nerve in my left eye, making it impossible to save and forcing them to have to remove my left eye, in order to save the vision in my right eye. Almost a year later, I was up and walking. I spent almost five years in physical and cognitive therapy total, and here I am ten years later. It’s only this year that I’ve been able to start running again. That’s actually really good, considering that for a long time the doctors didn’t think I’d ever walk again. Now I’m retired, and enjoying life to the fullest. I owe my guys that didn’t make it back at the very least that. They gave up their tomorrows, now I live mine as if it’s the last one I’ll have. Hope that wasn’t too long winded! Any questions, from you or anyone else, I’ll be happy to answer if I can. Thanks for message!