SATURATION @charanacosta - Tumblr Blog

replicaticns‌:

Isaac jumps.

He falls for a second, gravity working to pull his weight to the ground, hot breeze kissing the bare skin of his cheeks exposed to the elements. He doesn’t hit the ground, of course, because before he can, he’s cradled in a grouping of arms – his arms to be exact. A group of clones await him at the base of the building, arms catching one of their own in a game of his own chaotic invention. It was incredibly foolhardy to jump off a building into the arms of others as a form of entertainment, a sort of demented trust fall, but it was exactly the thing Isaac was chasing. After running from that building that held him a prisoner for his entire life, he was finally free, and it was this newfound freedom he cherished above all. He was free to breathe this hot summer air and feel the sun on his face. He was free to say what he wanted and be who he wanted, and especially do what he wanted, which included jumping from a building if he so desired. Nothing would weigh him down again, other than gravity, of course.

A few blocks away, someone is looking for him. She’s scanning alleys, watching sidewalks, and asking strangers of his whereabouts, all who either say they’ve never seen him or haven’t seen him recently. Isaac’s presence isn’t one that can be ignored easily, nor is it one that is easily hidden. He’s not stealthy, nor is he ever trying to be. In fact, the roar of victorious and adrenaline-fueled laughter echoing five, ten times over isn’t subtle as it bounces off brick walls, and it’s not long before he reappears at the top of the same building, his silhouette a stark contrast to the bright midday sky.

That’s when Isabel hears him. The laughter that echoes through the allies and pierces into her; there’s something in the way that it’s carefree and it reminds her of the child she used to be that she’s forgotten about long ago. She turns through the alleys, listening to the echo like a sailor to a siren. It’s the best she can do until she actually sees him. A few minutes and too many corners later, Isabel sees him on the roof of some highrise. She has never been to the top of that building- hell, she didn’t even know it existed until that night. Normally she needs to have been in an area or know what the dimensions of the space were before she portals there or there’s a risk she won’t be able to actual portal there. But from her view, something bad is about to happen

There’s a chance she won’t get there in time. But, she has to at least try. “Stop! Please.” Her hand is the first thing through the portal, shot out in an attempt to grab him from the edge even if she wasn’t close enough. The humidity is even worse this high up and Isabel can feel the sweat sticking to her back. She knows she looks like a mess and if some random lady came up to her to stop her from doing something like this, she wouldn’t trust her. It’s just something all mutants are born knowing; you don’t trust those you don’t know, and you barely those you do. “Please don’t jump.”

#c #c: isaac #d: aug 20th #wow this took ages

xsuttungr‌:

date : november 12th location : the moonlighter involved : @charanacosta

The moon has been in the night sky, resting high over the city with the dim light to guide those awake at the late hour. Since early in the morning, Felix has been at the hospital and moving from one room to the next without stopping. Three surgeries later into the night, he’d finally found some peace in his own office to relax and go over his emails — until an emergency mutant case came in through the door. The hospital was a precarious place for mutants. The nurses and doctors won’t refuse to help — at least most of them — but that didn’t stop other patients from causing issues and that seemed to be the case when Felix had shown up. It took himself and three nurses to calm the situation, get the patient into a room, and help the poor woman. By the end of it, Felix was grateful for the end of his shift.

He’d made his way through the parking garage to find his motorcycle, sending a quick text to Isabel that he would meet her there. Felix could only pray that if he got called on another shift it would wait until after he’s been able to have dinner. But for now, he put his things away and started up the motorcycle before he made his way out and onto the main road. Soon enough it would be too cold for him to take it out but for now, he’d enjoy the feeling of open air and speed. There were nights when Felix couldn’t sleep and he’d find the empty roads — dangerously speeding until he felt weightless and the taste of freedom that he’d never truly had in his life.

When he arrived at the restaurant, Felix found a parking spot nearby and made his way toward the front. He came to The Moonlighter on occasion, one of his favorite restaurants. Not only was it always open late but during the nicer weather, their patio was open and they allowed dogs so he could bring Flora with him.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” Felix said as he approached Isabel. It was clear from his face that he was exhausted but his smile was still warm. “Things at the hospital were chaotic today.” With Isabel, Felix visibly relaxed. Tension still wracked his body but his shoulders were more relaxed and his expressions easier. Natural. When he was with people he trusted, Felix was an entirely different creature. He moved to the door to hold it open for Isabel. “I’m hoping you managed to stay out of trouble today or am I going to have a mess to clean up?” Felix teased.

There wasn’t much Isabel had to look forward to that day. Bring a few members to a job, pick up her sunglasses, do some paperwork, make fun of Tierney for being an old man. All in all, it was a normal day for her that happened to drag on. It was only when she finally left Green Mill did she have a smile on her face. Instead of taking the easy way, she walked to the closest subway station and waited for a train. It allowed her to feel normal when she was anything but. Her destination was only a few stops from where she got on and soon enough she was walking on the sidewalk towards the one place she wanted to be at all day.

The Moonlighter had always been their spot, a place that allowed both of them the chance to relax without worrying about their occupations. The first time they ate there was almost completely in silence; her mouth shut for a good portion of the night and only opening when the waitress asked what she wanted to order. Eventually, Felix convinced her to trust him enough so they came back a second time and a third and so on.

“You say that as if I go out of my way to start trouble,” she replied as she stepped into the restaurant, rolling her eyes at him. “I’m not Isaac, you know.” It was no secret within Blackburn that Isaac was practically a carbon copy of Isabel at that age. It took years before she and Luke didn’t cause some form of chaos wherever they went. Isaac just had the added ability of endless clones which drove a good portion of their own gang up a wall - and left Isabel to clean up the mess. Maybe it was some form of karma for all of the shit she put the members through when she was coming up. But, she didn’t mind

She waited for the door to close behind Felix before speaking again. “How was the hospital today?” Her voice was low out of habit from whispering to their coworkers. It wasn’t a secret that he worked there, but she didn’t want to risk others overhearing them. She glances at the tables in front of them, tries to find any faces she knows are part of the other gangs but she comes up empty. It’s enough to relax her for the moment they wait for the hostess.

#c #c: felix #does this gif make sense? probably not #d: nov 12th

LOCATION: The Conservatory DATE: Friday, November 15th TIME: 10:45 PM STATUS: Open

The sound of a gun going off never sounded so loud before. Isabel’s almost positive that the ringing in her ear won’t subside for at least a few days but that’s the least of her worries. She pushes through the chaos, forcing herself through the crowd in order to reach Alma but not without a quick glance at the center of the room.

They’re a Blackburn.

A shove to the shoulder brings her back to reality and she latches on Alma, bringing her hands together for a few seconds to make a portal. The smoke filling the room isn’t helping, but as soon as it’s large enough Isabel tells her to go, she’ll catch up later. She hears footsteps coming up behind her and she drops her hands - the queen is the most important piece on the board and as long as she’s safe, the rest of them are fine. “I don’t care which gang you’re a part of,” her hands are raised as she answers, hoping they’ll see she’s not trying to start anything. Move slow and steady, that’s what she’s been taught. “I’m just trying to get my own people out.”

#mrstarter #event: the betrayal #d: nov 15th #gun mention tw #gun violence tw #i'm finally posting a starter on isabel lets go bois

anasahn‌:

“My thoughts exactly,” Anastasia muses. And that was the point– the curiosity that had unfurled like cherry blossom in spring within the other’s mind had echoed her own. It took far less effort and energy to replicate her personal emotions than it did to create them from scratch. Her private joke remains precisely that, lingering only as a faint smirk at one corner of her mouth, taking in the appearance of the woman stood beside her. Her mind casts over well-studied photographs – some blurry, some CCTV, some stolen mutant registration IDs. It paid to know who was who in her position and eventually the right name flits to the forefront of her thoughts. Isabel. She fails to recall her new acquaintance’s power but swiftly moves on. “Your outfit is very pretty.” The compliment is spoken sweetly through a honeyed smile. “Mine would be too if I had a flower to tuck into my hair, don’t you think? Not that I have the guts to actually pick one.”

Isabel knows not to relax around anyone at the event, especially not one of the younger mutants in the mix. There’s a certain type of mischief behind their eyes that says they don’t care for the rules. It’s something she knows all too well about and she can see it in the girl next to her. She doesn’t know her name, but she’s certain she’s seen her around The House whenever Alma has gone there to discuss business. So, she stays on guard and puts her best smile on. Who knows if she’ll have to use her own power to escape this conversation. She doesn’t think much about the other's statement, instead, she wraps her fingers around the stem of one and breaks it off, holding it between the two of them. “Here, I’m pretty positive I’m not the only one breaking the cardinal rule tonight.” She looks around the room, searching for Neve’s eyes; Isabel couldn’t care less about the woman but she would love to see the look on her face as she destroys her work.

#c #c: anastasia #event: the peace treaty #neve: kill bill sirens from the other side of the building #d: nov 15th

“This is the way which a girl becomes a woman / this is the way which a woman becomes a wolf.” Erin Moran

#risingtalk #musing: about #murder tw #me: does a single reply then makes an edit

replicaticns‌:

WHEN: August 20th, 2016 WHERE: Some alleyway WHO: Closed @charanacosta

He’d lost count of the days since he’d been free; this wasn’t much of a feat, for he’d lost count after about the first week. But still, another day of freedom, another day he could do exactly what he wanted. Was this freedom or foolishness? Was this choice or stupidity? It was a particularly hot day, Isaac remembers. There seemed to be no escape from the sun’s heat, whether he stayed low and it radiated off the pavement or he climbed higher only to be closer to it. He didn’t have sunscreen, he didn’t have anything except the clothes on his back. His face still sported a pink sunburn from the last sunny day, his arms coated in a sticky layer of humidity. Sweat lurked under his clothes, his jeans cut into jorts (he had little options, and unfortunately, he now thought they looked cooler like this). His breaths were heavy, but not just from the thick summer air. One might have the same breaths if they tried to control their heart rate when adrenaline seeped into it. One might have their heart race like Isaac’s if they were looking down from the top of a building. No matter how he tried to make himself feel, or no matter how he truly felt looking at the ground below (which also wasn’t as high as it seemed in this moment), his body had its natural reaction, fight or flight kicking in. Palms began to sweat from forces other than the heat. Breaths were heavy and his heart ran amok. Was he to fight gravity, or run from this impulsive urge that surged through him?

The summer in Chicago was always too much for Isabel. Too hot, too humid, too noisy. Even after more than a decade in the city, she was never quite used to it. But that summer was shaping up to be one of the hottest she’d ever experienced. She didn’t spend more than a few minutes picking out an outfit because she knew she’d only sweat through the typical buttondown and shorts she would wear. Not only that, she put off dying her hair since the task at hand required too much movement for their apartment with a broken air conditioner. The pink roots beginning to peek through her hair would give her away sooner rather than later and that was the last thing she needed.

None of that stopped her from going out that night. Isabel was on a mission to find someone and with Alma’s permission, she was finally able to do just that. She turned down an alley after a few unsuccessful scans of the typical block she’d seen them on. “Have you seen a kid in an ugly jacket?” She asks the first person she can find, not caring whether or not they’re willing to talk. “I think it’s teal with pink and blue stripes.” There was a 50/50 chance it was useless, but she needed to find them. They reminded her too much of herself when she was that age and knew they needed someone to help.

#c #c: isaac #d: aug 20th #if you thought i'd go a single reply without mentioning The Jacket you were wrong

ofmizuno‌:

Jack watches her shoulders contract and release with careful eyes, the cigarette hanging between them until Isabel takes it. He wastes little time in producing his own lighter, hand cupped around the end of his cigarette to shield it from the biting November wind. He hadn’t expected to run into her out here, with Alma’s hand on her like a death grip inside, but it’s something close to a welcome surprise. There are worse people for Jack to stumble on outside the gaze of King’s security detail.

“Could’ve told you that back at HQ,” Jack shrugs with a deep drag. He lets his head roll back, posture casual against the rail. He exhales after a beat and goes for another. Anxious.That’s a word for it. The trickle of dread at the back of his neck is certainly – present, and by the sound of it Isabel feels it, too. They are likely not the only ones, even among the subordinates.

“I think it’s only a matter of time before someone does something stupid.” He taps off the excess ash and shrugs. “But who’s the gunpowder and who’s the match, yeah? Seems like the both of them – Jem and King’s have a whole arsenal of loose canons.” Not that Blackburn is much better in that regard. Jack flashes her a razor edge smile. “Want to place bets on who goes off first?”

This is enough to calm Isabel for the moment. The basic interaction of smoking with Jack brings her back from the tightwire she was balancing on throughout the night. It’s a mundane situation that has happened too many times for her to count since meeting. Maybe it’s because of the tension crackling through the air or the side glances being shot around the room before words are whispered into ears. Regardless, this one cigarette is enough to make her forget all of that. She makes a note to thank him later if she remembers.

His lack of an answer is enough to tell her everything, but she doesn’t push it. So she files it away for a later time and place - one when neither of them is paranoid of someone overhearing their conversation. Isabel would never call herself paranoid, but she didn’t trust anyone in the building other than Blackburn members. The last thing she wants is someone reporting back to Ben or Damien with information from this conversation.

For a moment she thinks of Derek, her mind wandering to the one person in the building who actually was the match. She wonders if he would actually do it if asked. It takes another moment for her to realize the frown forming on her face, quickly replacing it with a smile. “Do you know me at all? Of course.” She inhales again, blowing the smoke above them. If they were being forced to sit there all night, they might as well have fun with it. “What are the stakes?”

#c #c: jack #event: the peace treaty #me: i'm gonna keep my threads short #my brain: bitch u thought #d: nov 15th

LOCATION: The Conservatory DATE: Friday, November 15th TIME: 7:00 PM STATUS: @deimosmeansdread

Mixing every gang together seemed like a terrible idea to Isabel. If not for the years of animosity, than for the risk of secrets to be exposed. There were too many things that each and every one of them wanted to keep to themselves - Isabel included. She spent the first hour avoiding eye contact with anyone not in Blackburn. The fear of someone knowing her shared secret is enough to keep her on the straight and narrow for the whole night. But, nothing ever goes as planned.

He isn’t hard for Isabel to find among the crowded rooms. Derek, just like his power, burns bright in her mind. It’s only the beginning of the night, but she keeps her eyes on him for a few seconds before passing into another room. It’s not until much later does she spot Derek again, sitting on a bench in one of the quieter rooms. It makes her smile, of course he’s alone. From where she’s standing, he looks like a painting; something to be observed but not touched. It felt wrong to disturb the moment of peace but that didn’t stop Isabels heels from clicking against the tile as she made her way towards him.

For a moment she worries about her outfit. She wore it to seem professional, to be taken seriously as Alma’s transporter. But now she’s stuck wondering if it’s too professional, too dark, too serious. Maybe she should’ve worn a dress like the others. She snaps a flower off of a bush as she places by, tucking it behind her ear. It would have to do for now. “Is this seat taken?” If anyone were to walk by they’d assume she was being polite, making sure that he wasn’t holding it for someone. But, to them it means something different. To them, it’s an invitation to tear down each others walls and just be with the other.

#c #c: derek #event: the peace treaty #isabel fussing over her outfit? homegirl caught feelings #d: nov 15th

ofmizuno‌:

Time: 15 November, 19:38 Location: Back door of the Garfield Conservatory Status: for @charanacosta

It ought to, in Jack’s opinion, be considered rather impressive that this was his first smoke break of the evening. He’d done as he was told – showed up on time, avoided protestors, shook hands with those who demanded, and made nice. All the boxes, checked. From there, he skirted around the edge of the venue for a few hours, drink in hand, until the itch under his skin slipped just far enough below his collar that two fingers couldn’t quite manage to reach it.

He counted the exits and the faces that stood between them a dozen times. The sweating drink made his fingers slick, but not so much as the pairs of eyes snaking over him. Too many; all faces, no names. Jack did his research, sure, found all the guests lists – secret and public – but everything he accounted for seemed to be sliding just out of reach. When it became just shy of unbearable, and Jack was sure there’d be no reprimand for it, he made his leave. A cigarette was through his fingers before he reached the door.

Jack wasn’t the only one. He braced for impact as her silhouette came into view – maybe he could stomach a conversation, just this once, if it meant he could smoke unbothered by security.

“Oh.” Isabel’s face turned into view. “It’s you.” Jack sidled up beside her, cigarette between his lips and lighter out in the cold night air. “Anxious or bored?” Without waiting for an answer, he slide a cigarette her way.

As usual, Isabel was by Alma’s side, trailing a few feet behind her if the moment arises that she needs to leave. The leash that normally hung loosely between the two was pulled tight, barely giving her room to breathe. The only moments Isabel had to herself was when she was at the bar - and even then Alma wasn’t that far. The tension Alma felt was rolling off of her in waves and crashing onto Isabel. It was enough to drive her mad. But, if there was one thing she wouldn’t do it was ask why.

After a couple of hours she excused herself, claiming that she needed to find Luke and Isaac. It wasn’t a lie, there was a high probability that both of them were causing chaos somewhere. But, the likelihood Isabel was going to spend her few minutes tracking them down was slim. Instead, she makes her way to the bar for another drink then slides through the closest door to the outside for some fresh air.

Jack’s voice takes her by surprise, but the cigarette he offers is enough to make her shoulders relax. “Anxious. What about you?” She tucks the cigarette between her lips and fishes for a lighter in her pocket, letting the light reflect off of it as she inhaled. It was easy to tell Jack the truth even if it wasn’t the whole truth. There was no need to share her worries with him and cause even more tension to rise. He was, after all, her friend. “This whole thing seems like a bad idea.”

#c #c: jack #event: the peace treaty #me: wrote the event and knows exactly what'll happen #also me: acts dumb #d: nov 15th

anasahn‌:

OPEN TO ALL • 15 November / Garfield Conservatory

Being an informant is prestigious. It’s a position of tact, of secrecy; of being able to win others around without suspicion, coaxing the sweet song of information from their mouths. But, above all, to Anastasia at the very least, it meant – for what felt like the first time in her life – that she was important. A cog in a well-oiled machine. A well-oiled machine that was particularly well-dressed, if the familiar faces flitting around the conservatory ( bad choice, in her opinion, the risk of high humidity mixing with sleek hairstyles and silk was a wardrobe disaster waiting to happen ) in tailored suits and glamorous gowns were anything to go by. Dark eyes are drawn from bodies to leaves, from jewels to petals. Anastasia pauses, admiring the faint aroma of a flower growing from rich black soil, allowing her power to join its scent in the air until it finds a mind to wrap around like a grapevine. She plants curiosity safely amongst their homegrown emotions. Leaves it to take root. To blossom. “What do you think?” she asks airily, attention settling on the chosen companion. “We’ve been warned against touching the plants, but surely picking one little flower won’t hurt anyone?”

Isabel had a love/hate relationship with the Conservatory. On the one hand, it was absolutely breathtaking. Being able to walk through and see all of the plants thriving even with the brutal Chicago winter creeping its way into the city. And on the other hand, it was Kings territory. Because of that little fact, the beauty within was off-limits to anyone not affiliated with the gang. Not only that, Isabel hated dealing with any of the members; the air of too good for you was almost enough to choke on when she had to talk with one. The beauty of it all was almost enough to convince her that staying all night was worth it - almost. Isabel had slipped away from Alma for a moment, needing a minute to gather her thoughts and breathe. And then a voice caught her attention, piquing her interest in the flowers behind them. “What’s the worst that can happen? Poison Ivy throws a fit and makes it bloom again?” The temptation is there, eating away at Isabel’s professionality. She’s there to work, not to pick the flowers. But, one couldn’t hurt, right?