THE WOLFESS.

her wild feral stare, her dark hair, 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖕𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖆𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖊.

[queenwooooof]

☾    #BYEBYE!

[queenwooooof]

HM

[queenwooooof]

mardi gras in NOLA means a higher threat level of spn and hunters in the area. any other year she’s got her work cut out for her this week

[mikubinders]

I looooove ignoring a character's death in the media I like, like what do you mean they're dead no they aren't they are alive and I'm having a cup of tea with them right now :] no I'm not in denial shut up shut up shutupshutupshut

[queenwooooof]

women with knives >>>>>>>>>

[queenwooooof]

if you’re familiar with the john w*ck franchise, when he was “ex communicado” and then a hit was put on him for breaking a hitman rule. essentially same hat for allison and chris when they flipped the script for their legacy

[queenwooooof]

romeo is a genius, so tell me whether or not your muse would try to collect 1M for allison’s head 🤨

[queenwooooof]

i think since the Dead Pool season (five????? idk it’s been a billion years), scott’s price went up and allison was added

[queenwooooof]

( ☾ )

☾  @queenwolf​  //    the  moon  looks  dim  in  the  sky  tonight.    her  mother  walks  these  woods  and  shines  far  brighter,    glimpsed  between  the  treeline  as  some  kind  of  shooting  star  –  out  of  reach,    but  promising  nonetheless.    it  should  be  warmer  now,    winter  melting  slowly  but  surely  into  spring,    and  yet  darkness  snuffs  out  that  changing  season  threateningly.    how  could  heat  thrive  in  such  conditions?

scott’s  collecting  her  arrows,    tearing  one  from  a  tree,    when  she  materializes  beside  him.    she  retrieves  the  point  left  behind  in  the  bark  and  turns  it  in  her  hand.    ❝    i  shouldn’t  have  missed,    ❞  she  scolds  herself,    a  hush  under  her  breath  that  he  picks  up  easily.    she  means,    they  weren’t  chasing  anything  unordinary.    scott  glances  over  his  shoulder  where  the  human  predators  had  vanished  into  the  night  and  says  lightly,    ❝    you  didn’t  miss.    they  were  just  warning  shots.    ❞

the  look  she  levels  him  with  is  nothing  short  of  unimpressed.    scott  has  the  decency  to  look  sheepish,    but  he’s  also  grinning  and  it  is  warm  enough  that  she  mirrors  it,    moon  rock  to  bright  star.    ❝    they  were  not  and  you  know  it.    ❞  the  arrowhead  in  her  hand  feels  exceptionally  heavy,    like  disappointment  in  the  shape  of  her  father’s  frown  and  every  snide  comment  her  mother’s  ever  gifted  her.    as  if  he  knows,    scott  slides  his  fingers  against  hers  and  takes  it  from  her.    ❝    i  know  it,    ❞  he  says  softly.

unwilling  to  sit  in  his  light  for  a  moment  longer,    allison  turns  away  from  him.    the  move  shifts  her  hand  away  from  his,    leaving  that  point  behind  in  his  palm,    but  it  doesn’t  take  away  the  weight.    ❝    did  you  recognize  anything?    anyone?    ❞  with  her  back  to  him,    it  is  easier  to  find  clarity.    allison  keeps  her  gaze  on  the  ground,    looking  for  displaced  mud  and  scattered  detritus.    scott  turns  his  face  upwind.    ❝    no,    ❞  he  murmurs.    ❝    i  couldn’t  place  them.    and  gerard  wasn’t  with  them  either.    ❞

something  catches  her  eye  on  the  ground.    when  she  crouches,    whatever  it  is  shifts  into  camouflage  with  the  dirt  and  disappears.    scott  joins  her  with  a  squat.    ❝    what  is  it?    ❞

❝    i  thought  i  saw–    ❞  abruptly,    allison  tips  forward,    startling  scott  into  a  defensive  posture.    from  the  earth  allison  digs  out  a  casing.    ❝    i  didn’t  hear  a  shotgun.    ❞

[queenwooooof]

women with knives >>>>>>>>>

[queenwooooof]

allison turned 29 yesterday. and in about a month, it’ll be 11 years since she died :)

[queenwooooof]

do not follow me if you use idol faceclaims or if you are clearly fetishizing asian faceclaims

[jokemoved5thewrathofkhan]

“‘Obnoxious,’” Joker’s honeyed his voice enough to coax Evelyn from her haven in the crook of his neck, “—tends to be Nixie’s M.O.” When the blonde bundle shifts at the edge of her periphery, Werewolf rests his chin atop his toddler’s head and slides both her hot chocolate and the mousse she mostly finished back over. “If they’re loud, she’ll love them.”

Nix’s bag of macarons finds its way to Evelyn’s abandoned chair so there isn’t a big white paper bag in the center of the table. Sokol isn’t tempted by its contents. He’s on duty. His big black head remains flat across Joker’s bouncing leg to try and still it. 

Pink painted nails curl around the saucer and her mug. Evelyn brings the hot chocolate back to her mouth and leans back so her hairline balances the point of her father’s chin. His eyes cut like glass when he looks down, cracks a crooked smile at her, then drapes an arm across her midsection like a seatbelt so she isn’t a projectile should any sudden movement besiege him.

Lo-fi’s floating over the surround sound. Werewolf’s reminded of how much he hates this genre. He scrunches his snout, then finds his shoulders shifting along to some snoozer of a beat. If whipped cream could be converted to sound, this is it. Evelyn rocks with her father’s gentle sway, waving the silver spoon she’d forgotten about moments prior and dipping it into her hot chocolate, then her mousse.

Now that his child’s heartbeat has considerably quietened, Joker settles his unblinking gaze on Allison. 

“You headed back to California…?” straightening his posture reacquaints him with the front door, which hasn’t swung open in some time. Other patrons don’t seem to care for their conversation — at least, not yet. His body language is anxious, which to the average Gothamite must read as boring.

Those girls behind the counter continue stealing glances at the back of his green-haired head. Joker ignores whispers of what couldn’t be their conversation, they’re too far away…but they’re sharp, sibilant and overlapping. Evelyn doesn’t appear to grimace from hearing it…perhaps she doesn’t. No one else appears to be pummeled by the grating noise either.

“Don’t worry about her,” he dismisses Allison’s tangible guilt regarding Evelyn, who has moved on, “She has me. She’s fine.” 

His toddler either willfully ignores any reference to her or it’s flown over her head. She giggles at the big black nose draped across her father’s thigh and pats Sokol on the head. Another kiss stamps the back of her head. 

“O-or is this a…” Joker flicks his wrist in languid circles that distract Evelyn. She traps his thumb in her grasp, twists to find his eyes, and giggles when he feigns baring teeth and half-lunging to ‘bite’ her. “One of those cryptically coded euphemisms for rehab or…” he over-enunciates, “—psychiatric institution…? It’s none of my business, but...you don’t seem overly enthused about this trip.” When he lifts his eyebrows at Allison for any silent confirmation, the false pair painted on his forehead disappear between its creases. “Whatever it is…” Joker looks at the table, adjusts the angle at which he sits so he’s on a diagonal and the broadest exit remains his, then shrugs; “You don’t need to mince anything. She’s heard worse.” He cringes as he says, “Seen worse.” 

Joker tucks a hand in his pant pocket to produce an American Spirit carton. He flicks it in a way that produces only one cigarette and, one-handedly, slips it free. The stick finds purchase between his lips. Joker doesn’t light it with his immunocompromised four-year-old on his lap. He shoves the carton back in his pocket and gnaws on the filter for the sake of busying his teeth and tongue. 

“As long as you’re not staring directly into her soul like The fucking Shining…” though he deepened his voice, his eyes aren’t nearly as foreboding. He performs a flippant sway and broadens his smile. “She doesn’t give a shit.” 

[queenwooooof]

assuaged  by  joker’s  cajoling  and  evelyn’s  revived  demeanor,    allison  relaxes.    at  least  marginally.    there  is  still  something  holding  her  shoulders  stiff,    her  spine  stiffer,    and  that  will  never  change.    years  of  proper  decorum  near  beaten  into  her  from  a  young  age  can’t  stifle  the  class  that  surrounds  her  in  name  and  image.    she  sits  like  royalty,    though  her  heart  stutters  in  her  chest  as  if  in  protest.    the  problem  has  always  been  that  she  can’t  shirk  that  reputation  even  if  she  wants  to.    even  though  she  desperately  wants  to.    the  papers  are  still  torn  on  her  anyway.

❝  god,    ❞  laughter  shakes  the  curse,    allison’s  gaze  cutting  away  with  a  sharp  jerk  as  she  shakes  her  head.    she  doesn’t  mean  to  laugh  really,    but  it’s  a  little  bit  funny.    she  would  undoubtedly  be  thrown  into  arkham  if  she  stopped  omitting  half  her  life.    my  grandfather  is  hungry  for  blood  and  threatening  to  murder  my  ex  so  i  have  to  go  out  of  town  for  a  few  days  to  hopefully  stop  him!

right.    that’d  go  over  well.

❝  i’m  not  being  committed,    ❞  she  says,    locking  eyes  with  evelyn  for  a  moment.    her  smile  is  still  apologetic.    but  she  lifts  her  attention  once  again  to  joker.    ❝  california.    yes.    ❞  and  leaves  it  like  that  for  the  moment.    snickering  behind  the  counter  mounts  in  volume  and  allison  tilts  her  chin  until  she  can  clock  the  offender.    the  girl’s  tucking  away  a  cell  phone  none  too  guiltily  under  the  moon’s  watchful  stare.    it  is  a  frigid  sort  of  glare,    one  not  to  be  tested  of  its  credibility,    and  the  9  to  5er  is  at  least  smart  enough  to  heed  a  warning  when  she  sees  one.    allison  gives  her  this  if  nothing  else.

her  cell  phone  has  a  dozen  mixed  messages,    half  that  in  missed  calls.    chris  argent  and  scott  mccall  grow  more  worried  by  the  minute.    allison’s  silenced  her  notifications  lest  they  be  interrupted  with  every  full  stop.    leave  it  to  scott  to  be  concerned  for  her  when  he’s  the  one  with  a  hit  on  his  back.    she’ll  pretend  that  doesn’t  endear  her  anymore,    but  the  truth  is,    she’s  anxious  to  see  him.

❝  there’s.  .  .    been  rumors.    about  some  family  of  mine.    ❞  despite  joker’s  reassurances,    she  hazards  a  look  to  evelyn  one  last  time  as  if  to  check  for  lucidity.    how  much  could  she  retain?    how  much  could  haunt?    allison  has  nightmares  every  night  these  days.    they’re  not  fit  for  a  child,    let  alone  a  grown  woman.    ❝  argents  are  known  to  hold  grudges.    and  i  have  some  friends  who  are  caught  in  the  crosshairs  of  one  that’s  been  going  for  generations.    ❞

out  loud,    it  sounds  ridiculous.    it  even  sounds  a  little  bit  childish.    allison  might  laugh  if  she  wasn’t  in  the  thick  of  it.    she  almost  wants  to  laugh  now,    again,    but  she  worries  it’ll  come  with  tears.    that’ll  surely  set  the  kid  off.

allison  leans  forward,    though  her  bowstring  -  drawn  spine  loosens  none,    and  drops  to  a  quieted  lilt.    ❝  this  is  what  i’ve  been  working  on.    the  relations  i’ve  been  trying  to  bridge  here,    it’s  only  a  fraction  of  what  i’m  trying  to  accomplish.    money  isn’t  the  only  hand  my  family  plays  in.    ❞  she  thinks  he  must  know  or,    at  the  very  least,    hadn’t  been  totally  ignorant.    bruce  could  very  well  have  accessed  history  on  the  argent  name  if  he  really  did  some  digging.    security  clearance  can  only  hide  so  much,    even  underground  shenanigans–  of  which,    the  argents  deal  in  spades.

❝  it’s  like.  .  .    a  feud.    sharks  and  jets.    ❞  west  side  story.    she  smiles  at  her  own  reference,    but  the  tilt  of  her  mouth  is  sinking  before  it  can  set.    ❝  my  influence  isn’t  big  enough  yet.    but  i’m  hoping.  .  .    if  i  can  just  get  this  taken  care  of.  .  .    ❞

[queenwooooof]

( ☾ )

A. ALLISON; ' no one can help if you don't let them in '

" i don't appreciate you prying into my life. " he must have sounded cruel, but it was the truth. he turned away from her as they walked, his body avoiding hers as she pushed on behind him. " study the dogs, hunt them like game if you like. but leave me and my family out of it. " @queenwolf

if  she  is  deterred  by  his  supposed  cruelty,    she  has  a  terrible  way  of  showing  it.    allison  is  steps  behind  him  though  his  gait  is  somewhat  otherworldly.    but  unfortunately  for  him,    hers  is,    too.    ❝    i  didn’t  come  for  the  dogs.    ❞  this  is  only  a  half  -  truth.    he  knows  it  is.    ❝    i’m  not  here  to  harm  anyone.    least  of  all  your  family.    i  have  my  own  to  protect.    we’re  on  the  same  side.    ❞

[queenwooooof]

( ☾ )​​

the sun was just peaking over the horizon when bucky arrived on his motorcycle, parking the bike against a curb, leg kicked out to balance himself against the pavement as a flash of fingers dashes across his cellphone screen.

here. can’t miss me.

he wasn’t sure what allison had recruited him for, more so just the aspect of there being gratuity involved ( not that he wouldn’t have done it pro bono, but who’s gonna say no to a little extra cash? ) plus, well, he was always one for keeping busy.

you in for some coffee?

he’s  early.    he’s  early  because  she  is  rarely  late  and  if  she  is  late,    then  he  must  be  on  time.    but  he’s  early  and  she  is  only  minutes  behind  him.    it’s  only  this  way  because  she’d  insisted  on  driving  herself;    her  driver  has  left  her  several  annoyed  messages  complaining  that  he’d  had  the  car  running  to  warm  the  engine  and  doesn’t  she  keep  him  on  payroll  for  a  reason?    the  only  message  she  responds  to,    though,    is  bucky’s  when  stopped  at  a  light.

[  SMS  :  0849  ]    ETA  2  minutes.

[  SMS  :  0849  ]    You  read  my  mind.

two  minutes  later,    she’s  pulling  in  behind  his  bike.    he  is  not  left  to  wait  a  moment  longer  as  she  steps  out  and  into  the  sunlight,    basked  in  it  like  halo’d.    allison  smiles  warmly  like  they  are  old  friends  looking  to  catch  up  and  not  at  all  like  she  has  half  his  check  in  her  hermès.    ❝    good  morning.    ❞  free  from  the  confines  of  the  towncar,    she  can  stretch  her  legs  and  breathe  deeply.    ❝    how  are  you?    you  mentioned  coffee.    ❞

[queenwooooof]

( ☾ )

❝   𝒋𝒆𝒔𝒖𝒔, will you relax ? 𝗂'𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.   ❞  

                     ⊰ 🙤♱🙦 ⊱   ━━━━ @queenwolf​​​​​   !

it’s  another  moment  before  the  bow  is  lowered.    he  is  afforded  the  benefit  of  the  doubt,    but  leniently  because  she  still  keeps  an  arrow  nocked  and  pointed  at  his  feet.    ❝    you’re  right.    you  won’t.    ❞  a  heavy  threat  marked  by  heavier  eyes.    ❝    if  you’re  coming,    stay  behind  me.    ❞

[theartofrebirth]

𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚃𝚃 𝙼𝙲𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 [𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎]:  I hear you. I hear you. But, Ally… He’s dead. He’s been dead for… for almost ten years now. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.

𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚃 [𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚢]:  We know better than anyone that not everyone stays dead. I’m telling you what I saw. I’m telling you what— what happened. I saw him. He talked to me, Scott, he—

𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚃𝚃 𝙼𝙲𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻 [𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌, 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚝]:  I’m not saying I don’t believe you.  [𝙰 𝚍𝚘𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚏𝚞𝚣𝚣𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚛 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝙲𝙾𝚃𝚃 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜]  Just tell me what you need. What can I do?

𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙸𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝚁𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚃:  I’m coming to you. Just wait for me.