ʀᴇᴀᴘ & 𝘴𝘰𝘸

heavily selective & independent multi - muse rp blog. crossovers and ocs welcomed & encouraged. multi-verse / fandom / ship. endured by: cat ♡ rev: 10.06.18

[devilsgate]

          so maybe i’m a disappointment to myself and others,   the point is, i’m going to be making a new blog.   i am still swarming with muse so don’t take this as like…  me scrapping all of my threads or whatever.   i’ll write replies for my drafts and hold onto them to be posted, later, on the new blog.    unless  you  want a fresh start with fresh faces   ( which you’re more than welcome to )   consider this like…  poorly timed winter cleaning.  me, aggressively remaking because i hate my tags and various other aspects of my #aesthetic.   BUT SURPRISINGLY NOT MY ICONS FOR ONCE HAVE YOU SEEN HOW A+ THEY ARE WOW.

to note ;   i’ll have a  ***NEW***  url so as to, once again, retreat into the shadows where only certain people can find me.   since i’m extra.   i’m keeping   ( as of right now )   14 out of 15  of my muses.   not gonna say who isn’t making the cut because reasons.   and i’ll, once again, be operating under the   ‘ y’all my exclusives if we writin’ ’   ish.

all the bs out of the way, idk…  acknowledge this post ??   however you choose if you wanna keep dealing with me and my mediocre attempts at proper english.   i’m picky and gross soooo… :///   ball is in y’all’s courts.

[devilsgate]

          curse the ground i walk upon,   the deed is done.   i’ll check back in here a few more times down the road, but for now, consider this blog archived.   y’all can unfollow at will or ask for the new url if that’s the kind of future you want for yourself. ✌   stay...  maybe not  classy,  but mildly decent works too.   deuces, dudes.

[devilsgate]

          so maybe i’m a disappointment to myself and others,   the point is, i’m going to be making a new blog.   i am still swarming with muse so don’t take this as like…  me scrapping all of my threads or whatever.   i’ll write replies for my drafts and hold onto them to be posted, later, on the new blog.    unless  you  want a fresh start with fresh faces   ( which you’re more than welcome to )   consider this like…  poorly timed winter cleaning.  me, aggressively remaking because i hate my tags and various other aspects of my #aesthetic.   BUT SURPRISINGLY NOT MY ICONS FOR ONCE HAVE YOU SEEN HOW A+ THEY ARE WOW.

to note ;   i’ll have a  ***NEW***  url so as to, once again, retreat into the shadows where only certain people can find me.   since i’m extra.   i’m keeping   ( as of right now )   14 out of 15  of my muses.   not gonna say who isn’t making the cut because reasons.   and i’ll, once again, be operating under the   ‘ y’all my exclusives if we writin’ ’   ish.

all the bs out of the way, idk…  acknowledge this post ??   however you choose if you wanna keep dealing with me and my mediocre attempts at proper english.   i’m picky and gross soooo… :///   ball is in y’all’s courts.

[devilsgate]

          so maybe i’m a disappointment to myself and others,   the point is, i’m going to be making a new blog.   i am still swarming with muse so don’t take this as like...  me scrapping all of my threads or whatever.   i’ll write replies for my drafts and hold onto them to be posted, later, on the new blog.    unless  you  want a fresh start with fresh faces   ( which you’re more than welcome to )   consider this like...  poorly timed winter cleaning.  me, aggressively remaking because i hate my tags and various other aspects of my #aesthetic.   BUT SURPRISINGLY NOT MY ICONS FOR ONCE HAVE YOU SEEN HOW A+ THEY ARE WOW.

to note ;   i’ll have a  ***NEW***  url so as to, once again, retreat into the shadows where only certain people can find me.   since i’m extra.   i’m keeping   ( as of right now )   14 out of 15  of my muses.   not gonna say who isn’t making the cut because reasons.   and i’ll, once again, be operating under the   ‘ y’all my exclusives if we writin’ ’   ish.

all the bs out of the way, idk...  acknowledge this post ??   however you choose if you wanna keep dealing with me and my mediocre attempts at proper english.   i’m picky and gross soooo... :///   ball is in y’all’s courts.

[devilsgate]

❝ It won’t look good if YOU start getting strikes either. ❞ There were strikes against them ALL for whatever reasons the higher-ups could come up with, they needed someone to pass the blame onto and it never bothered them to cut someone loose. ❝ I might give you a lot of shit but you genuinely care for them, don’t go getting yourself FIRED. ❞ Would she deny it if anything were ever said to someone else? Absolutely. Her own rank didn’t allow her the chance to stand up against them, to tell them to shove it and it sucked.

A glance was tossed over her shoulder, back to the raptors scampering around without a care in the world. They were lucky in the sense that they didn’t need to concern themselves with such trivial matters at hand. ❝ What’s the NEXT plan of action? ❞ The question was asked more to the glass in front of her, but before long she returned her gaze to Owen’s. ❝ They’re going to want to come in and see them, aren’t they? How are you going to keep her from getting strike THREE? ❞ One step out of line and the group was DONE, the importance of the next couple of weeks ( the next couple of DAYS ) weighed heavy on her mind.    

❝ Listen, I know we might not always get along but …. you’re the only one that can convince them not to cut Charlie. You’re her last chance. ❞ And she hated that she couldn’t be the one to help her, but it had always been Owen at the front of the task. If there was just a hint of pleading in her voice, she couldn’t help it.

          “  they're not gonna  CUT  charlie.  ”     it didn't ring with the assurity he'd  hoped  it would, but the declaration overruled what desperation had chosen to linger.   an effort to salvage rosita's pride while maintaining an idea close enough to dismissive indifference so as not to draw skepticism.   avoid scrutiny because she was  right.   he'd racked up enough marks to warrant termination and, more than once, the board had summoned him for what owen'd  figured  had been the talk, at first.   right up until he'd refused them the chance.   snapped back with enough force that they'd had to listen.   that they'd, eventually, acquiesced under the assumption that their alternatives were outclassed.   because no other handler had gotten the  responses  he had.   no other handler had made the  progress  he had.   and no other handler looked even half as  natural  up on that catwalk.

“  what's important here is making sure they don't send the  wrong  people to start supervising.   not everyone has the same definition of  OBEDIENCE.  ”     calling them  weapons.   an ache across his forearm'd have agreed, were he not so stubbornly ignoring the burn of it.   the way that, if he moved just so, it shot up a nerve to say charlie'd hit her target.   would've incapacitated if she'd harbored the will.   if she was the  danger  they'd call her.   not a rowdy child with too much time to wind up.

another screw loose and knuckles rapped the windowpane until she'd popped upright, large eyes blinking and claw tapping tile.     “  knock that shit off.  ”     not likely.

          “  and say they  DO  cut her——  ”     less probable than them giving out slips to the whole team, but an outcome he'd considered several times over already.   a blow that'd have the whole pack slipping out of order.   something explained to an unenthused audience.   stressing their mentalities and a pecking order that oughtn't be disturbed.   lose one and the fights would kick up all over again.   amongst each other.   against their trainers.   more scars for stories down the line that owen wasn't eager for the telling of.   knew rosita'd not be keen on them, either.   her face solemn and tone sunk to match.   a portrait of wilted resolve she could only fault herself for giving him his opening to take his shot.   good natured, perhaps,  but,     “  ——at least you'll know it was all your fault.  ”

[devilsgate]

be your worst self   :   you are shockingly violent

          There's no getting around this: you desperately need to attend anger management. You're just as headstrong and opinionated, and your energy and enthusiasm can turn into explosive violence at the drop of a hat. You're a walking time bomb of seething rage, and the more you try to hide it, the more it escapes in unpredictable, volatile mood swings. Do yourself a favor and invest in a stress ball or a gym membership before you do something you'll really regret.

tagged by :   @warmauled tagging :   @lcsthcart  ( angel ),   @kickedlass,   @bornsoldier,   @fearfeeling,   @rosevois  ( bean ),   @soughtlove  ( arthur ),   @stardustvein  ( artemis ),   @aciernavdova

[devilsgate]

              Kyber crystals have been used for many years in the construction of lightsabers. Just recently they were used to power the armored space station known as the Death Star. So Luke’s concern is warranted when one is snatched right from under him. Of course his initial assumptions led him to someone working for the Empire. Vader, more specifically. Although his suit of choice and mask are something he’s never seen before. Maybe a bounty hunter? It’s clear asking for the item in question is not going to get him anywhere, though he hasn’t reached for his lightsaber yet, his hand doesn’t stray far from where it rests at his side. ❝Do you know what that is?❞

          as far as peter could tell,   he had two choices——   lie.   or lie  well.   the first one was easy and had him smirking behind his mask before sense hit hard enough to knock the smugness loose.   the second, and his  preferred  choice, took finesse.   it was his head raised an the prize slipped back down into a pocket eager to swallow it out of sight.   make its double - theft that much harder.     “  of course i know what it is, you think i’m  STUPID  or something ?  ”     false.   entirely, unabashedly, false.   down to a forced inflection and a cockiness jutting his hip.   to cause such a chase through the market, all the way to a ship lot he’d realized too late  hadn’t  been where he’d left the milano ...   didn’t matter  what  it was, as much as it did what it was  worth.   buyers on rocks between here and knowhere, someone’d eventually have the credits enough to make parting with the score worth it.     “  leave now and i won’t have to  EMBARASS  you out here.  ”     for a whole——a quick survey to check their arena——four people ?   of course everyone’d hightail it right before the good part.     “  last chance.  ”

[devilsgate]

        he can’t pinpoint what it is but… there was something very odd about his sudden appearance in eddie’s apartment of all places. really, he didn’t recall ever even touching a drink the night prior, and post-mission, he could recall only a shower, shoveling food into his mouth, and crawling soundly into his own, plush bed. but he has no reason to think anything else but being under the influence was at play here. or had been at play. last night. even without what lingering effects there should have been — telltale signs of a hangover were nowhere to be found, but his stomach was giving an unsatisfied grumble with his awakening. coffee would tide him over until he could scrounge up a proper meal, whether it be from eddie or on his way out. 

        “ uh… slept fine. didn’t… hear anything, no. ” a brow is raised in question, and he wants to prod further, but he instead opts for smoothing back blond locks that curled against his forehead and scrubbing that same hand over eyes in another attempt to get blue eyes to focus on the man looking frazzled. “ what’s up? did you go for a run or something? you look like a wreck. ” and maybe he treks closer, swooping up for an unapologetic kiss to lips he’d claimed only a few occasions prior. 

        he certainly didn’t seem like he was in a proper state of mind, and it was enough to pique johnny’s interest, though not to the point that he’d blatantly point it out. if it needed saying, he was certain it’d come out eventually… if interest didn’t turn to burning curiosity, and johnny didn’t get the need to pry. “ you alright? ”

         alright was relative.   alright  was him still conscious, pulse a little uneven, but kicking against the column of his throat nevertheless.   beating with a shadow that sluggishly timed in and out.   mimicry because the parasite hadn't needed to do so up until then.   an attempt at an appreciated distraction because his fever was alive as ever and no amount of nervous grins and fluctuating voice would keep johnny in the dark for long.   not as the closeness brought the contact of lips and, almost just as quick, eddie caught himself  f l i n c h i n g.   unusual, even without the history that reminded it wasn't a first.   or a second.   it wasn't a third or fourth and, even though there'd been beer enough to drown out thoughts of anne, he could still, just barely, recall a fifth.   it'd lasted the longest and, most likely, been reason for drifted interest.

it is what you wanted eddie ;  it is a gift.   and he'd have argued,  loudly,  that it most certainly was  NOT,  had the rankle in his belly not been so sure it was.   convinced without needing the reminder of sordid dreams and why, now, his laughter was choppy and hands worried paths through sweat - soaked hair while he retreated.     “  uh ..  yeah.   yeah, i'm great.   i've been, yanno ...  ”     loose gestures behind himself, the explanation dropped momentum for an exchange of opened cabinets and harsh, biting rebuttals under the ruckus of shifting mugs.

“  it's  ILLEGAL  and you're gonna get me arrested !!  ”     ——by who ?     “  BY THE POLICE !! ——   heh ...  do..  do you like expressos ?  ”     a conversation shifting from low, indecipherable snarls, the symbiote unable to grasp their situation, to something comically chipper, back towards johnny.

          a  wreck  implied that there'd be an eventual improvement.   that this was temporary and a hot shower, a warm cup of coffee, and an hour watching cat videos could fix him.   all things he'd tried already, each with different degrees of failure.   nothing but  cold  showers, now.   coffee tasted bitter, his breville   ( the only bit of shared valuables he'd been allowed to take in his still - too - fresh split )   rendered useless.   and, judging by the rumble built up in his stomach, the fur still scattered in places on the sofa—— the only interest venom had in  cats  was how many of them it could fit in their mouth.

“  i'm ...  kinda sick.  ”     it was a start.

[devilsgate]

          is it too late to grovel & beg for plotted threads ?   is that still a thing or am i showing my age …   because spontaneous is nice but backgrounds are better.   also it gives me permission to make presumptuous references and——  lol  longer posts.   i am js.   holler atcho deeds if you’re down to clown with this ish.   i’m not too proud to cry.

[devilsgate]

Blame it on the alcohol or the glow of the cosmos yawning endlessly just beyond the broad windows of the Milano — or the fact that she had been venturing through space for the past month, but dancing with Quill seemed like the least crazy thing she had done since her not-so alien abduction.  With units in hand despite what could only be called a marginally successful job on Xandar ( a planet she wished she could have spent a little more time on ) and the rest of the Guardians tucked into their cabins, Evie was happy to oblige some private revelry.  Music soft and familiar, she couldn’t help but laugh and set to nudging aside what she could before impatient hands tugged her into a twirl she managed to easily fall into.

“ The Bee Gees, huh?  My roommate in college had the biggest crush on Barry Gibb. ”

          “  was your roommate my  MOM  by chance ?  ”   the memory might’ve been old, but it was there.   ‘ how deep is your love ’   playing in the living room, meredith a ’ sway with a mug of coffee in hand, crooking a finger his way because   ‘ if a girl wants to dance, you better not say no, pete. ’   it fuzzed at the edges there, but hadn’t kept his hands from seizing hers.   steady and sure, but loose for the tugs and pulls the building rhythm called for.   till the beat of his boots matched a hum in the air, evie sent outward and spun back with a  borrowed  grace.   leant willingly for hopes of saving toes he wasn’t totally convinced would be making it the duration of the dance.   a risk worth taking, he supposed, if it kept her from that frown he’d caught sight of.   the same one that’d sprouted every night for the past  week.   giggles and sloppiness aside—— not everyone was meant for thogahn wine, picked up on the kind of whim that an  OLDER  bottle of thogahn wine’d encouraged.     “  what about you, huh?   those gibb brothers your type ?   or are you more into the ...  ”     passive glance downward, between their pairing for the sake of giving  himself  a once - over,     “  rugged,  super ripped  kinda guys ?  ”     /     @lcsthcart   .   #harlowes   .   x

[reedusgif]

[devilsgate]

“   you   were   expected   not   to   be   here   and   yet   …   ”  

it’s   an   unfair   choice   of   phrase,   she   knows   this   and   yet   the   words   fall   and   linger   there   in   the   silence   that   had   settled   between   the   two   of   them.  FORBIDDEN   would   have   been   an   understatement,   they   were   far   beyond   playing   with   fire   and   though   dangerous   (   she   knew   this   );   she’d   broken   the   rules   in   asking   him   to   stay.

her   gaze   landed   there,   at   the   digits   wound   around   her   ankle   beneath   the   sheets.   the   touch   was   grounding   in   a   way   that   she’d   never   felt   and   there   was   that   voice   (   of   her   handlers   )   telling   her   that   weaknesses   would   get   her  KILLED.   “   you’re   concerned   they   suspect   something,   aren’t   you?   ”   a   hand   pushes   curls   from   her   eyes   as   she   sits   up   to   meet   his   gaze,   her   own   eyes   softening   with   an   expression   that   says   she   understands.   the   warnings   had   been   made,   they   knew   the   rules   but   ….

 “   stay.   ”   that   same   hand   slides   across   the   sheets,   moving   until   she’s   able   to   wrap   her   fingers   around   his   wrist.   the   pressure   is   light,   a   silent   pleading   before   she   allows   herself   to   tug.   “   they   know   nothing.   james,   please   …   ”

          it isn’t convincing that he needs,   body pliant and responsive as natalia tugs a wrist that easily relinquishes the hold meant to ground it.   ground him.   keep his mind steady and his resolve somewhere near the same.   keep the nerves situated below his ribs, prickling and readily cornering eyes with each pass of a vehicle close enough to hear.   close enough that headlights shined up the street outside and cast a glow through curtains that, though heavy, failed to blot it out in whole.     “  < i’m not concerned, >  ”     for himself.   risks came frequent enough to know the taste of the punishment promised.   his would be expected.   colored to fit the crime.   but hers ...

“  < we’ve been careful, >  ”     reassurance offered for their shared benefit, his shoulders pushing forward to lower that fraction more before, again, james found feet beneath himself.   the motion to set him standing, the connection remaining between spindle - like fingers and a wrist that strained slight while he moved.   to shake her loose.   to reverse the connection.   thread digits in exchange.   mutual disobedience  hadn’t been needed to see her as equal.   natalia with her studious eyes and sculpted words.   nothing without  reason,  he’d been wrapped in the web enough times in the past to recognize the way he’d been wound, now.   how he knew, so jarringly, that his handlers would need drag him from her by force for his departure to be swift.

it isn’t  begging.   he’d seen men beg.   been stood over them as tears shined their eyes and pleas peppered through broken, heaving sobs.   she’s not  begging,  but a quivering, hopeful desperation still shows itself.   it leads through that remaining step to sink knees at the edge of a mattress that folds as willingly as his body, around hers.   for the crane of his neck, permitting lips catch hers in a purposeful, unspoken agreement.     “  < one of these days ...   i’m not going to know what to do without you. >  ”

[devilsgate]

                    speaking of   INSANITY    —-     she watches as he ducks out of the way of  …   nothing.   even glances over her shoulder just to confirm that neither of the bots had tossed something in his direction.   it’s not the first evidence of   crazy  ,  she has a laundry list of incidents she runs through as eyes narrow suspiciously  ;       ‘    what is your   problem  ??   has the sun completely scrambled your brain or     —-          did you just tell me to shut up  ??    ’           she   asks  ,  because she hears the words  ,  muttered under his breath but it doesn’t seem like they’re meant for her nor the bots  ,  rather something   internal  ,  like he’s talking to HIMSELF.

                    weirder still is the fact that he seems to   agree   with her assessment  ,  weren’t all hyperions supposed to be under the impression that they were the fucking   heroes   in this tale ??  a blessed gift bestowed upon the savage land they hoped to tame  ,  to   civilize. handsome jack certainly had.   he’d painted himself as a   savior  ,  a   GOD   sent to save pandora from itself  …   the reality was slightly different  ,  a ruthless egotistical madman willing to do   whatever it took   to achieve his goals.   a man whose name will go down in infamy among pandorans whilst those who live and work up on helios idolize him.   and she   wonders.   wonders if rhys had fallen victim to their   hero worship  ,  if he kissed-ass and backstabbed in hopes of gaining even a hint of   favor  ,  if he’d fought tooth and nail to step into those large  ,  monstrous   shoes once the beast was ironically slain on the planet he’d hoped to conquer by the vault hunter he’d hoped to kill.

                probably.   comes the answer and the revulsion rises  ,  burns like corrosive acid in her throat and serves as a stark reminder ;     he is an   enemy  ,  not meant to be trusted  ,  not meant to be   liked  …    in the end  ,  he’s not that much different than   august  ,  a tool to be used to the sisters’ advantage and discarded when the work was done.   except he   knows   who she is  ,   what   she is     —-          no hiding behind an alias  ,  no carefully crafted persona has been donned     —-          it’s just raw  ,  unadulterated   sasha  ,  the con-artist and maybe that’s why she so keenly feels the   rejection   bubbling like lava beneath her skin.  

                ‘   can you say that again  ??  I wanna play it back for fi later.   ’

                   snarky retorts are kinda her forte  ,  an easy crutch to lean against when her other vices aren’t so readily in her grasp.   weight shifts from one foot to the other  ,  once again she’s struck with the thought of how easy it would be to push him  ,  to see if he could survive yet another brush with the harsh pandoran desert but somehow they both seem to know that she doesn’t have it in her.

                   his voice cuts through her scheming thoughts  ,  brings her back to the here and now.   no attention has been paid to the bots  ,  not until he snaps  ,  starts barking orders.   and immediately she’s on the defensive  ,  suspicious of his sudden fierce desire for privacy and jumping at the chance to directly oppose him.           ‘   leave ‘em alone !!   ’        head turns  ,  tone softens ;          ‘   you don’t have to listen to him  ,  y’know  ??  you can stay if you wanna.   ’

                    but it doesn’t seem to matter in the end  ,  lb is loyal to the cybernetic hyperion and gortys appears to be excited to join the others  ,  taking no offense to the harsh words hurtled in her direction.  lb wastes little time in scooping the smaller bot up and descending into the caravan while gortys says her farewells.   sasha manages a half-hearted wave before they disappear from view and the hatch thuds closed once more.

                    now it’s just the two of them as the sky morphs in the dying light  ,  brilliant colors spilling across the canvas.   a sudden bump knocks her off balance and prompts her to find a seat again just to avoid being thrown off  ,  making sure to keep her distance this time around.   under entirely different circumstances this could almost be considered   romantic.    but they’re not meant for it  ,  not for   ROMANCE  nor for   friendship.   even this fragile  ,  temporarily alliance is a bit of a    stretch.         ‘    not quite.   ’        she doesn’t meet his gaze  ,  head tipped back  ,  eyes cast skyward instead.         ‘  for starters you haven’t actively tried to   kill me   yet.   ’

         there was no point to explaining.   sasha wasn't quick to believe him when the  truth  was offered, rhys hadn't the impression she'd be eager to swallow blatant  lies,  either.   that there was  nothing  wrong.   that his head wasn't pounding and the constant flicker of broken code on his peripherals didn't turn over a face, twisted with laughter, at the expense of his deteriorating situation.   jack the jackal.   jack the crooked, sinister maw of his future, contemptuous but ...  endearing.   motivating.   he was his back turned straight and mismatched eyes cast forward.   away from a scowling bandit, her judgement a weight he could do without.     “  no.  ”     fractioned ;   one lie instead of a string of them.   what she'd have undoubtedly hung him with, provided the opportunity.

more barking and gears churned for the delicate chore of adjusting a tie set awkward and off - center.   more fallout from her lapse.   because in spite of her head held  so  high, she was no better, no less violent, than the howling psychos that circled the dunes.   a prettier packaging didn't change what pandora did to a person.   what she accused  him  of.   a sun overhead, cooking skin and sense.   brought out a bronze he'd been unused to, evaluated briefly before the shuffle of departing bots set smugness in the creases of his smile.   driven down into an area unseen without her craning, but birthed all the same.

          ‘ look at you, cupcake !!   throwing your weight around ...  oh—— oh, they grow up so fast.   give me a heads up before you start choking people, i want to be close enough to feel t—— ’

thumb bracing against the port at his temple, pressure built to something numbing before the voice faded and sasha, fumbling to the left of him, was scrutinized by raised brow and lifted chin.   kept in focus while she settled, then, lost again, once she had.   back out across a passing landscape that verged on an idea of  beauty  his passenger scoffed at the thought of.   mountain range in the distance, sky a backdrop of pinks and reds and an orange that made him miss the luxuries of the company fruit bar just beyond his office.   made him miss plush seating and kicked up a.c.   down to the droll of monotone voices over the main com, reminding everyone to do  this  or  that  or file their paperwork before noon.   monotony that had its place.   had an order.   no chaos or dirt ‘ neath nails.   no bullets run too close to remain comfortable.   dodging lobbed grenades and——

“  you know, not everyone as into  MURDER  as you all are down here,  ”     offense heavy, the crease between brows deepened.   a clefted corrosion, proving that conversation wouldn't always build wanted bridges.   wouldn't turn her opinion of him any fonder, nor his for her.   that, given incentive and opening, while his had been many, already, rhys' willingness   ( or lack thereof )   wasn't a  shared  restraint.   that, offering his back too often, it'd only be a matter of time before she did what was in her nature.   what  fiona'd  proven was in  hers  as well.   a penchant for firearms, they both may have had, but the idea of a screwdriver, driven to the handle, wedged up between that curve from neck to skull ...   that he'd shivered didn't seem unreasonable.

          arms cross, fingers curling opposing elbows,     “  in fact, until i came down  here,  i'd never,  actually,  killed someone.   i mean, i've seen more dead bodies in the last  WEEK  than i've seen the rest of my life and i worked for  handsome - friggin ’ - jack.  ”     a new person out the airlock every other day.   interns carted down the hall with the shape of large, strangling hands bruised across crushed throats.   imagery that played back on a reel to scrunch eyes over - tight while jack watched on, enraptured.     ‘ you're really missing out, kid.   i mean, this guy's eyes are three seconds away from popping out of his head and——!!   THERE THEY GO !!   oh god ...   is it my freakin ’ birthday ? ’

another fifteen seconds and the cackles eventually died off.

if the u.v. didn't eventually bake what was left of his sense out of him, that virus would.   turn good intentions into warped versions of themselves.   let them more closely resemble what sasha,  evidently,  pictured.

“  look ...   the point is,  ”     ——he'd been sure he'd had one, shoulders driven forward and posture turning sloped.   a slouch to contradict airs of assurity he hadn't been capable of maintaining.   couldn't finance with the caravan rocking beneath and a set of shouts from below loud enough to know that, unlike the union on the roof, the others had found means to get along.   could joke and laugh.   forget what was lost and why, now, helios looked so much further away, strung up in the stars, enormous and ...   terrifying.     “  is that really what it looks like down here ?  ”     a question for sasha.   for jack.   for whoever'd give the answer to best quiet a building fear.   that that glow was another moonshot, readied and waiting.     “  it's ...   different.  ”

[devilsgate]

“  ponies are too much work.  ”    well, he wouldn’t know, but he’s just assuming it is.  connor can handle a dog, maybe a cat  (  he’s a dog person, after all  ), but having a pony is a bit of an upgrade.  to be frank, he’s content with just being near barton’s dog ;  lucky doesn’t cause him too much trouble or bark every time he walks into the room.  he almost opens himself up, then, vulnerability being a thing he readily avoids at every corner, but he closes that door instead.    “  just how long d’you think you will be here for ?  ”    he figures he’ll need to buy a bit more food and coffee given he tends to purchase just enough for a single mouth.  not two.  not to mention a dog.    “  a week ?  two ?  ”    he may not know what’s going on in barton’s personal life, but an estimate would be  …  beneficial for both of them.    “  need to know so i can prepare myself every mornin’ to see your face.  ”    meant as a joke.  he cracks a small smile, eyes dancing with the way sunlight peeks in through the window.  he can’t imagine that clint’s that bad of a roommate.

          he’d almost been displaced,   far enough in thoughts, to miss the jab.   looked away to the ground for something that didn’t come regardless his shifting in his seat for hopes of finding it.   answers that’d make the ache in his back worth having.   make lucky’s head, nudged up over a knee for the scratching, the comfort it was  meant  to be.   one slip too many, though, had always felt the same.   bloated up like a corpse under his skin until the thought made it crawl and, finally, clint’s focus realigned with a conversation  he’d  started.     “  huh ?  ”     how long.   right.   because people normally had answers like that.   could managed explanations without their tongues twitching and their voices breaking down into weak, crumbling things.   connor’d not displayed attachment to warrant him to think his reasons would resonate an air enough of understanding to bother finding the right tone to offer them.

“  a few days, tops.  ”     until his message had reached natasha and she showed up like the plan always  promised  she would.   take him somewhere where his face was less recognizable and sweaty palms were the most of his concerns.     “  don’t worry about the food.   i’ve got me and lucky covered.  ”     if a box of pizza was considered   ‘ covered ’   in his opinion as well.   already a day old, shoved into the duffle wedged up between sofa and wall.     “  ... i’ve got a mask if you don’t wanna see my face.  ”     old and weathered, maybe, but the offer stood.   disarmingly sincere in contrast with the implied bother.

[devilsgate]

         TIME   IS   MEANINGLESS   TO   BEINGS   SUCH   AS   THOR   OR   DIANA.   age   does   not   challenge   them   as   it   does   the   countless   beings   of   the   universe.   diana   assumed   she’d   carry   the   burden   of   immortality   alone   once   she   left   themyscira,   but   she   has   found   such   understanding   in   thor.   it   is   partially   this   reason   she   finds   herself   not   contacting   him   when   she   discovers   she   is   carrying   his   child.

        THEY   ALSO   HAVE   LOYALTY   TO   THEIR   PEOPLE.  her   people   have   disappeared,   shadows   she   cannot   view   any   longer.   but   he   has   an   entire   world   he   owes   himself   to,   &   it   is   why   he   must   leave   her.   there   are   pressing   matters   to   attend   to,   though   she   knows   he   will   return.   why   burden   him   with   the   knowledge   of   a   child ?  yes,   this   child   is   a   GIFT   —   any   child   is,   in   diana’s   eyes   —   but   even   family   must   be   put   off   for   his   people.  

         ONLY   CLARK   KNOWS   OF   HER   CHILD,   &   soon   his   mother   martha   learns   of   his   existence.   despite   diana   being   a   motherly   woman,   she   feels   as   though   she   needs   guidance.   it   is   martha   who   assists   in   her   son’s   upbringing.   he’s   just   a   boy   when   thor   returns   from   asgard.   clark   must   have   told   him   where   she   has   been   staying,   because   martha   knocks   on   diana’s   office   with   a   frightened   look   on   her   face   that   spells   out   exactly   what’s   wrong:   he’s   returned.   their   son   is   luckily   at   school,   but   pictures   of   him   flood   martha’s   house.   if   he   were   to   lay   eyes   on   even   one   before   she   has   the   chance   to   explain   —

         HER   EYES   MEET   HIS   &   she   has   to   pretend   as   though   nothing   has   changed   —   yet.   arms   wrap   around   him,   though   there’s   no   feeling   as   it’s   mostly   in   shock.   ❛   you’ve   returned.   ❜   but   love   does   not   carry   in   these   words,   no,   but   rather   doom.  

          his hands are calloused by duty.   visual reminders of battles and obstacles felled.   until the path is cleared and freedom offers a reprieve.   from strife and war and the drumming of a pulse to say he'd been  bred  for this.   a trip through the bifrost.   through a distance that'd settled, heavy, in his guts for too long.   an unspoken discomfort, translated into concern the longer it took to carve out what meager traces of  her  that midgard provided.   the word of aged onlookers, recounting exhausted battles and an astral woman, angelic and fierce.   descriptors unmistakable, feeding into a pace already beyond impatient.   across plains and cityscapes.   across airfields and rivers and a lake that sat, calm and familiar.

                                                      more questions.

force to dredge up answers what came, eventually, from a beacon sat, unassuming.   a font of might to narrow skeptical eyes, cautious but accepting for lack of better alternatives.   taking this  not - so - mortal  man's words for truth because tone and balance rang compelling.   because his tongue spoke of  ‘ diana ’   and not the woman of wonder the rest of the world knew.   and, perhaps, therein sat new concerns, fragile but prevalent, stowed away somewhere quiet for better times and the opportunity for answers.   for who he was.   for how he knew him by face and name alike.   further evidence that the trail to this corner of farmland wasn't wholly cooled.

greeting the mistress of the home with head bowed and mjölnir seated in the soil near boots unshifting.   the sign of good faith and calm nature, always at the ready, but, perceivably, thor's acknowledging a lack of need for it would produce progress sooner.   as it did.   parted doors and the creak of wooden flooring beneath his weight.   into a modest entryway, appearing out of place against a backdrop of patterned wallpaper and framed photographs eyed passively to find the face of the familiar man and an  unfamiliar  mix of others.   four in the line examined before the pad of footsteps interrupted his course and, despite her approach, wide gait covered the remaining distance in haste.

          “  ——you moved.  ”     paired with the sort of smile to weaken his accusation, diana's winding grip tight, fingers sank with intent into dark, welcoming waves.   affection in lips pressed to her temples, then brow, head cradled nearer as her greeting was digested.   tone not as expected, wading somewhere out of reach and sinking further the longer he lingered.   as though some great and  terrible  burden had anchored itself, wound ‘ round a neck stroked by passing thumb when distance was granted, albeit slight.   to garner an angle worthy his tilt - headed concern.     “  ... and yet, something troubles you.  ”

enough to stiffen her shoulders.   enough to crease tapered lines around her eyes, swimming with a crashed shore of like - shadowed resignation.     “  i suppose it was wrong of me to assume no grief would find you in my absence.   diana ?   if something has happened—— ?  ”     though the  what  remained unknown, there was no curbing the sink of barbarous intent in furled brows.   a promise that the war drums would not die out so easily from his veins.

[devilsgate]

          he doesn’t recall the journey it must’ve taken to find himself in eddie’s apartment. doesn’t remember the night much at all, except he’d sworn he’d fallen asleep in his own bed. tucked away and warm as he scrolled on his phone ‘til he passed out in the safety of baxter building. which is why he wakes up more disoriented than he thought could be possible. worse than when you dream you’re running in your dream, only to wake up with the world spinning around you. 

          sure, it wasn’t weird for johnny to wake up in someone else’s bed, but he’s accustomed to remembering when he’d spoken to the person or how he’d found himself in their home.

          storm pushes himself up from the comfort of a mattress, brows creasing when he realizes the other side of the bed is empty — he needn’t look very far to know it was eddie’s apartment, though, as it was just on that line between messy and chaotic and that dying plant sat defiant on the windowsill. feet swinging over the side of the bed carry him first to the bathroom and then to the living room, where he finally finds his host, a hand raising to rub the sleep from baby blue eyes and then up to muss his hair. “ hey —— was i drunk last night or something? i don’t… honestly, i don’t remember coming here. ” a pause, and he considers that for a moment. “ if i came here uninvited… thanks for taking me in. ”

          it’d started three nights ago.   eddie awakened by the wail of a fire alarm, discovering himself out of a bed he’d thought he’d crawled into, stood before a toaster oven spewing flames.   his passenger’d been quiet enough, alarmed and forceful, but unwilling to explain.   startled, but unfazed, the second time shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was.   a rooftop downtown, nowhere near the edge, but he’d screamed until his pulse’d evened out and the symbiote rumbled its amusement for his response.   comparatively, the third was uneventful, though the taste of meat and stray tufts of fur littering the living room suggested the neighbor’s cat wouldn’t be seen in the halls anytime soon.   but  this——

curled around a body he specifically knew not to’ve been there when he’d shut down his laptop and called his attempt at writing the failure that it was ...   lines were needed.

          which is how johnny’d found him, sweat pooled to soak the collar of a hastily tugged on pullover, pacing a frantic path from one side of the kitchen to the other.   trapped in the throes of an argument that’d appear one - sided, arms swept in wild, gesturing fashion,     “  no, how could you think that  THIS  is what i wanted ?!   what part of what i said made you think that kidna——  ”     he is awake, eddie.   and not a moment too soon, the start of a confession shriveling up with the rest of his nerves to be swallowed, thick and viscous, down a throat still raw from a shift he’d elected not to dwell on.   how johnny’d managed to stay lost to slumber the whole way across town.   how he’d dozed on another couple of hours while the confrontation unfolded on the other side of deceptively  thick  walls, apparently.

“  oh hey !!  ”     speech staggering to betray an act that’d fall out from under him, eventually.     “  did ...   did you sleep okay or ...  uh, yanno, hear anything ?  ”     he does not know, eddie.   you’re giving us away.     grinding out the necessary  US ?!  through teeth unwilling to part, the smile that sprung was lopsided and slipping.     “  right !!   yeah !!   don’t mention it, stop by whenever you want !!  ”

[dailytwd]

[devilsgate]

❝  if  ya’  didn’t  want  me  around,  why  didn’t  ya’  throw  me  out  last  night?  ❞  her  expression  was  SMUG  when  she  joined  him,  dropping  herself  onto  HER  side  of  the  bed  and  barely  batting  an  eye  when  she  reached  for  a  pillow  to  swat  at  him.  ❝  ‘m  not  goin’  anywhere,  get  over  it.  ❞  another  swing  of  the  pillow  followed  before  she  tossed  it  back  to  the  top  of  the  bed  where  it  should  have  been  in  the  first  place.

it  might  have  been  a  mistake,  but  it  was  one  she  made  often  it  seemed.  no  questions  asked,  it  was  better  that  way  she’d  tell  herself.  ❝  stop  bein’  such  an asshole.  i  needed  a  place  t’  crash  ‘nd  believe  it  or  not,  ya’  aren’t  ‘da  WORST  company  t’  have.  ❞  an  arm  stretched  out  and  she  shoved  at  his  legs  so  that  she  could  stretch  out  her  own.  stubborn  as  can  be,  she  didn’t  listen  for  an  argument  that  she  knew  would  come.  ❝  doesn’t  mean  ya’  don’t  need  t’  work  on  ya’  people  skills.  d'ey  SUCK.  ❞

          it was a loaded question.   asking when she  knew  the answer and  knew  he’d sooner gnaw through his own tongue than give it.   easier to snort, shift further near mattress’ edge, and bury his nose back into a text half - finished.   one easier to feign indifference to while the covers shifted and thumbs dug irritated grips against either side of the screen.   they’d waited that long to bother, they could wait another hour or six for him to decide what was worth saying.   a disgruntled   ‘ umf !! ’   on contact, the arm meant to rise sat still, instead.   trusted a second blow’d not come and jerked, violently, when it did.     “  oh  please,  don’t give me that crap,  ”     a blind reach gained sight, cornered eyes chasing a pillow as it was flung, up near the head of the bed, settling in crooked and provoking grit teeth as she joined it.   only becky knew how to ignore an aging altercation and the shape of her nails, blunted and scathing, run down the slopes of his shoulders.   angry, risen reminders that the idea of  last night  wasn’t as far behind them as it should’ve been.

“  you needed a place to crash last weekend, too.  ”     ——and the one before that.   enough times to’ve turned it into habit.   no keys made for easy access, perhaps, but seth hadn’t abandoned her number, either.   answered the calls when they came.   ignored meetings and a schedule that hadn’t been deviated from till she’d crept in.   like she did now, his leg nudged from the path of hers, earning a leer, shove half - hearted.     “  you’re not  people.   they don’t eat all of my food and waste half a bottle of shampoo.  ”     /     @kickedlass . x