stop for a minute and realize you are a 10lb brain piloting a slab of meat
This makes living sound so metal.
I’m just a skull ridding around.
AN: TW for triggering.
Today’s AmCap is pretty heavy. I apologize for that, if you’re reading for the light stuff, but Steve has some heavy stuff to deal with too. It’s probably a good thing he has a diary comic because I don’t think he yet knows that a) it is sometimes appropriate to tell people what’s happening to you or that b) anything that’s happening to him is necessary to talk about. Or: I’m not sure Steve thinks of what he’s doing as repression so much as pure, sensible functionality - I don’t think he is yet aware that “fucked up” is an actual setting that humans have. Especially humans who, as far as they knew about, actually died in a war, but who unfortunately come from a background and style of masculinity that don’t supply abundant tools for putting that through restorative process.
I wish him luck with that. And I’d really like to play him this song (warning: IT IS A VERY SAD SONG). I feel like, when he discovers Bruce Springsteen, he might actually almost cry from relief.
Tagged for everything I could think of, re: tumblr savior. Do let me know if you think there should be any other tags.
(Also: seems readable on clickthru, but in case, here is a DA version).
It’s pretty obvious you are a super soldier. Without a doubt this is the secret ongoing origin of Steve Rogers. If there was a way to transfer my last remaining iTunes dollars to keeping you making these full time I would do it, and I am a hobo. A literal city hobo.
Place your Steve Rogers in the neighborhood that he grew up in and you have the same universe that has street level heroes doing their hero thing while Cap has a coffee between saving multiverses and leading demigods against ascending self aware artificial intelligences.
I can believe that Marvel is a real universe from your Steve’s perspective. He might even meet Xavier and Lillandra out on a date while walking through the village. Oh she has that hair.
I am sittings in the most holy of hollies, the Starbucks on the corner of East 3rd and 1st Ave, everyone is proto famous in the moment thinking Baby, if you gave me a place to have dinner parties I will give you the revolution. My boy Eric ! Oh I had to avert the eyes, dare not spot anyone not yet famous enough to cover for their ginormous facial deformity. Because we are all deformed before we come into money. I just saw a rich man pick and eat his face. His bomber jacket cast a glamor so I t looked like he was nervous instead of hungry.
Angelina Jolie looks like my mother from the early 90s, my dad is half way between Denzel Washington and George Clooney, and ain’t none of those guys are handsome. But they smile like they mean it.