prodigal.

recklessly, wastefully, extravagant. 

[prodgl]

       independent, selective multimuse - dc, marvel, house md, leverage, ocs.        by shenme.

                 Old Fred Nietzsche said, “Whoever fights monsters should see                  to it that in the process he does not become a monster.” But                  the thing the Neech didn’t know is that the only  kind of people                  who want to fight monsters… were monsters to begin with.

batwoman photo creds: @diana-prince, promo template here by @somresources. rules & muses 

[itzbatz-deactivated20240722]

targets

[youngjustices]

#nothing but respect for MY aquaman

[dailykeiynan]

+

[prodgl]

[ late to the hades game trend but zagreus as a muse??  👀  ]

[prodgl]

mcsterthief​:

@prodgl​ liked for a starter.

          Even  if  the  hacker  hadn’t  been  standing  right  next  to  her  (  before  she  gave  him  the  shove  he  needed  off  the  building  ),  she  would  have  heard  his  scream  through  the  earpiece  loud  and  clear.  Now  that  the  con  was  over,  or  at  least,  now  that  she  had  STOLEN  what  they  needed  and  it  was  down  to  Sophie  and  Nate  to  finish  things  off,  Parker  punched  his  shoulder,  grinning.  ❛  C’mon,  that  wasn’t  SO  bad,  was  it?  ❜

   his heart still had yet to find its way back into his chest. hardison had never been the bravest in the school yard- adrenaline was only fun in the comfort of his seat, before a glowing screen as eyes ran crimson with exhaustion. thrill forms only under fingertips and pulling in clutch. and yet, parker seems so determined misunderstand what he had meant by clutch. it certainly had less to do with white knuckles wrapped around his harness, clutching to his wits, his bowels, and his heart as they dived, through the sky and the atmosphere.   “ if humans were meant to fly, we would’ve! ” he’s just cranky: none of this was natural, and his throat was sore from all the yelling. “ look woman, evolution’s a real nifty thing. ” 

[prodgl]

fatalelity​:

      calamity crashes, her heart palpitates – all semblance of reasoning ceases to exist. if inquired upon, sullied facade, the dollops of mascara that streaks down along her countenance speaks for itself : rain, thunder thuds, lightning strikes within the city sphere and she, all within a state of isolation. there is no tenderness that lingers in remy’s disposition and as if she is a sail on a stormy august fair, her sheets crumble, as if she is to fall at the inquiry bestowed upon her. she had been a fool to expect tenderness, she had been a fool to expect unadulterated kindness from remy. she had been selfish, and she knows all too well of her sins – thus, if remy dares to inquire further addison will blame her words, her actions on the many glasses of martinis she swallowed to drum up the semblance of liquid courage.

       ❝     i uh — i… i don’t know. but uh…    ❞      addison measures her words with caution. within her drunken stupor, she could only behold her through glassy eyes. there is a dull ache that gnaws at her – what do they have ?  she doesn’t dare to venture, she doesn’t dare to linger for she fears her heart falling, falling, and then breaking once again. her lips unfurl, words come tumbling from her lips before she could only shake her head in defeat. white flag raised, she is a a loss for words.    ❝    you know what never mind. sorry i came over so late.    ❞

    too harsh? perhaps. but she’d learnt it’s the only way to deliver truth to a stubborn sick mind. this lesson’s best viewed drunk, the high counters the pain, and remy wishes that she was a fraction as intoxicated as addison was in this moment. as intoxicated as they were intoxicating. but see, when her chest pounds hard enough, and when the chemicals in her brain latches on to a feeling that surges through her veins, remy does gain a boon of dionysus’ that might not come in his river of wine and insensibility. impulse catches in her throat, and remy dares continue her challenge. pride stands in the way of accepting defeat: no one lies with remy hadley so often to tell a tale of indifference. a tale of apathy and disaffection. so, she tries again.  “ no, tell me. i need to know. i want to hear it from you. ”

   she stands her ground, and remy can only pray to not regret it. how easily addison could show up at her door, ruined mascara with a broken smile, to find no denial in her arms time after time.  but as within and so without, remy must soothe her ailing mind to know if every affection addison doles out in physicality also exists in the realms that remy cannot see.  “ what do we have? ” 

[prodgl]

fatalelity​:

lazy limbs outstretched across the softness beneath them. the present is effervescent : it is surreal, as if the cliched lightness prescribed upon the fairy tale worlds / it is vivacious, akin to the beating of her once hollowed heart. her heart, it beats again in spite of the frigidity, in spite of the frostbitten edges along her valves from the last wintertide she endured in seattle. it was as if she was drowning in snow, asphyxiated from the volume that obstruct her airway, that fills up her lungs until she could not breathe. immobilized, terrorized – her heart, she was certain it could not beat like that again.

until she had tasted divinity. until she had tenderly traced the sculpted features beneath her fingertips. remy is the kindle of warmth in the long, arduous, and treacherous path she endured. in her vivacious eyes she witnessed the spark of life that she thought she had lost since the downfall of her marriage. 

& so she stares, before the crispness of the air gnaws along her exposed flesh. cushioning her head against her elbow, she simply smiles at remy before speaking her inquiry,  ❛ what are your thoughts on christmas because — i already ordered the tree, the ornaments, and the decorations. don’t want you to freak out, cause i’m pretty sure they’re all coming on the same day. ❜

@prxdigaldaughter // look im just gonna throw this here & you can respond whenever 

   yule is upon them like the precipice that they dangle on, a pair of hearts dangerously perched on some metaphorical cliff that house’ll mock on his daily non-sequiturs about her tragic life. even then, thirteen isn’t sure what she’d ever admit to when it came down to it. remy is certain enough that there will come a time that the freefall is inevitable- but where are they falling to, she isn’t sure. there’ll be truth in addison’s eyes, and answers scrawled on their skin soon enough.  until then, until remy can say that she loves her, she’ll abide by the conventions of what they are; and convention says holidays are a milestone. “ are we doing christmas together? ” comes the languid question. “ i don’t mind it, christmas i mean. it’s just that i’ve mostly spent it alone ever since moving here. the fanfare’s mostly lost on me. ”

[prodgl]

fatalelity​:

thoughts circle her mind, as if the remnants of the mother’s desperation for her daughter’s speedy recovery was akin to a ghost that haunts her. her mind barely attentive to her surroundings, she almost feels apologetic for her blatant absence.   “ that mother in the waiting room. i delivered her daughter’s child five hours ago and her daughter’s still in surgery with derek. ” she notes, almost anxiously at the thought as she swallows the lump that gathered in her throat. 

“ you have allergies? ”  addison deflects once more. classic. 

    worry leaves a bitterness in your mouth, that much remy recognizes. but the bitterness of anxiety pales in comparison to the acerbity of a dying infant, and she knows better than anyone else the concern that resides in addison. always so admirable, the surgeon leaves her heart bare for every child that crawls into her arms, that even a child born without a mother would still find their first in addison montgomery. admirable, and very stupid. so thirteen resorts to the taste of crimson red, the much more comforting iron from chewed-raw cheeks.  “ -- why aren’t you in there? ” 

[prodgl]

fatalelity​:

there’s a mischievous glean in addison’s eyes, her hands extend outward reaching for remy’s whilst she stands on her heels.  slowly, she spins herself into the other’s embrace, gingerly placing her hand on her own neck.  “ dance with me? ”  cue love don’t cost a thing playing in the background – someone’s been watching tiktok dances lately… a lot of them, actually. 

@prxdigaldaughter​ 

    her chin is tilted up in admiration, as cerulean irises blink away confusion to reveal  a kind of revelling in addison’s spare attention tossed carelessly her way. thirteen only prays that  she never discovers her misguidance in the decision.   “ always. ”  like the feeling of a thousand butterflies, there’s a shimmer in her growing smile.  “ you’re in a sprightly mood. ”

[prodgl]

[ about to dig my grubby little hands back into aqualad, my son kaldur & his comics so!!!! expect my muse for him to skyrocket exponentially around here ]

[prodgl]

[ consider this a PLOTTING CALL! ive got new followers && some old mutuals coming back so like this and i'll invade your dms! hoping to get new things up and going for each and every one of you 🥰 ]

[prodgl]

[ last day of work tomorrow, month long paid vacation coming soon before the academic term starts again! i wanna say i’ll be here more, now that im getting back into the rhythm of churning out replies but i wouldn’t hold much weight over my words. might end up feeling totally overwhelmed tomorrow BUT fingers crossed! looking to add new muses to my list as well. meanwhile, welcome to my new followers &&  i hope to be writing with you soon! ]

[prodgl]

trustschaos​:

@prodgl​​ said   →   “ i’d stay if i could, i promise. ” - shay!

MORNING AFTER:  ACCEPTING.

𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈,   but there’s still something else in her expression as she watches shay move and feels the shift of the mattress…  something she doesn’t wanna try to name right now.  lauren’s never been the sort to let herself get attached,  and it’s more than a little uncharacteristic for her to be feeling anything like the strange sense that she’s missing something now that she’s the bed’s sole occupant,  but here she is.  still,  she does her best to brush it off and cover with a stretch as gaze tracks the paramedic’s movements,   “hey,  hazards of the job,  right?  you never know when you’ll be needed,”

  there’s  no dignity to be spared amongst friends. tiptoeing through a minefield   of shed  garments, shay  stays  determinedly  in  her  state of  undress  as she   checks on  her  pinging  phone. she’s  impossibly  warm  anyway  and  there’s   salve in the open air now that she’s strayed from the radiating heat of her bed.   her  gaze  doesn’t part  from the phone when lauren speaks,  and  neither  did   her own response warrant attention away from the furious typing.

     “hey, your tight ass should be  right  behind  mine  if  i’m called in on       my day off. it’s either nine eleven all over again or godzilla’s decided       to land on american waters.”

  brows knot in tepid annoyance,  the  screen  glares back at leslie in mockery.

     “it’s not the station. we’ve got a shipment coming in for the bar and the       other two bozos are too busy slacking off to come haul it with me.”

  be there in forty. only then does she spare lauren her gaze: the doctor had an   incomparable charm about her, one that kept shay  by  her  side  even  as the   world grew  incomprehensibly  complex  around  them.  a  decade of comfort   culminating to unthinkable benefits. shay beams.

     “are you on shift today, and if you’re not, wanna come help? and yes,       this is a test of friendship.”

[siixtyone]

[ i dont know. i guess the thing that drives me crazy about shay is her ability to love and care for anyone. literally anyone. even if they left her hurting so bad or she’s half on the brink of death she’ll literally put ANYONE before her. medical facility gets bombed, she gets stabbed while on the job but she spends the day saving everyone else, patching people up when she’s bleeding herself to death and almost incapable of walking i mean i don’t see a heart bigger than hers. she puts love before reason. when severide was hooked on those painkillers she just took the fall in a second she didn’t once flinch on her way down and when clarice came crawling back nine months pregnant shay took her in even though clarice left for shay to go to hell. i mean shay was a total fucking wreck and it takes on look and a few tears and she’s back to living with shay. she’s an idiot but goddamnit shay she’s made of nothing but love for everyone and right now i’m afraid to know why she is. ]

[prodgl]

[ to add to old musings that have sparked my leslie shay muse, remembering that only her sister came to her memorial & the fact that no other family member ever visited her even on the edge of death makes me think that shay’s family never cared enough about her. she wasn’t loved enough that even in her death, they weren’t there. which is probably why her chosen family is so important to her, and why she chooses to love everyone around her so fiercely, because her own family didn’t afford it to her. she doles out in spades what she couldn’t get, so that no one would ever feel as alone as she did. ]

[prodgl]

brokenspy​:

@prodgl​ liked for a starter.

                    there were certain things her father had always said - ‘once you know all the cons, you’ll never be a sucker’ and ‘a thief has to run out of town as fast as he can, but a good con man can leave whenever he wants’. she’d grown up knowing that, grown up on the grift with him, and though he’d been arrested, she hadn’t; she’d stepped into the family business, his advice always in the back of her mind. though she didn’t know everything, she liked to think she’d learnt not to be a sucker…which meant she noticed when someone seemed to have the same target as her. of course, sarah knew she could be wrong, could be getting mixed up in something far more complex than she thought…but she’d take her chances. “can i ask you something?” 

   a thousand thoughts  fly  by but there’s none of them were quite as clear as the     grifter’s voice perched  in  her head: focus, parker, cherio! and no  stabbing! she    never welcomed attention, and  even  less so when it came to conversation-- it    went  against  every instinct of  a  thief. quick and light is how she survived, but     survival now  was  no longer  a solo act and to be a team player, she needed to     act. good god woman, ask google or something! the thief masks an eyeroll with    a sticker smile, one she had  been  working  on  closely  with  the  grifter. social     convention was strange, why  did  anyone have  to  bare their  teeth  to  appear     approachable?  no  one  was supposed to talk to her, they said. no one talks to     waitresses! parker smooths out her apron. 

        “hi, how can i help you?”

[prodgl]

[ SO I MISSED A LOT. great to be back for a bit, but uh- still feeling incredibly overwhelmed ! will hike my big girl panties up soon &&& i miss you all so much ! thanks for sticking with me ]