ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴇɪᴠᴇᴅ

mason payam || indie & selective mutant oc || message perception

[thoughtfiiilled-blog]

                            LIKE AN URBAN CASSANDRA

[receiiver-blog]

                    eyes widen at what most would assume to be thin air,                     oculars glued to the lewd image for a moment or two                     before he’s ducking his head and stabbing his fork idly                     into the leafy greens of his salad. sexting isn’t cool kids.

[receiiver-blog]

          }} sender {{ starter call yO

[mindgamcs-blog]

                   ❛  tearing people apart has become                                  a sort  of  personal specialty  of  mine.  ❜

   &&. receiiver

[receiiver-blog]

     lips part ever so slightly as he gaps a little at the      young woman. sure he’s heard threats before --just      now a dozen others echo against the confines of his      skull in his silence-- but that was just unwarranted.      so the only reply that springs to his tongue is that      mothers tell their children when they’re not really       listening.

          “that’s nice.” ---------and slightly terrifying.

[ofoptimisms-deactivated20150809]

There is nothing more she appreciates than the rising presence of the morning sun whose powerful rays illume the part of the world that is exposed to its solar aura; while the other half is in talks of slumbering along with the moon. The park is partially empty around this time. A few people walking the long, curving stretch of pavement, while some are sitting on the benches perfectly aligned on both sides of the walkway. People who have little to conversate about. And people who have much to catch up on. She walks the almost vacant path, enjoying the scenery as the path continues like a stream before she sees–and goes towards–an idly painter with his utensils out. Canvas and all. She says not a single word to him until she is standing right beside him. “Hello.” She greets him with an amicable smile. “…I couldn’t help but to notice you looked lonely over here… And your collection of paint…” Her smile remains after she finishes speaking, allowing the male his turn to talk.

[receiiver-blog]

     not many people talk to him directly --there are thoughts      directed towards him, echoing loud in his head in a chorus      of “that’s pretty” and “i don’t get it.” perhaps it’s the vibe he      gives off, one of wanting to be alone with earbuds blasting      music in an attempt to drown out the symphony of thoughts      for a little while. it never works, music only adding to the      hubbub of noise that taunts every moment of his life.

     so when the stranger’s voice echos so loudly within his      head --bright and friendly in contrast to the rest that has      dulled to more background noise, like a noisy restaurant      where only snatches of conversation are comprehensible--      he almost ignores her, brush arcing out blue ribbons across      his campus, appearing to mar the beautiful landscape below.

          “thanks.”

     comes the not-quite-correct reply finally, brown eyes flickering      only briefly to the young woman, before they return to the paints      trying to capture a picture that’s rapidly fading.

[receiiver-blog]

ofoptimisms ( x )

     the already humid early morning weather is making it      difficult for him to force his paints to co-operate, precious      minutes wasted as the sun slips up over the trees --the      scene he’s been trying to capture quickly fading. still, he      sits almost stiffly, brushes collecting off hue paint to block      in rivers of light caught in the rays of a morning sun.

[receiiver-blog]

}} shockless {{

          face it. ur faculty will never be as cool           as my faculty. anyhow. starters?           interactions? anyone?

[scarletesque-deactivated2016010]

“the one and only.”

[receiiver-blog]

     not the only wanda, but definitely the only      one with her power --which speaking off,      he would do well to remember to control      his thoughts.

          “i think they were looking for you            in hq.”

[scarletesque-deactivated2016010]

receiiver started following you

Have fun..

[receiiver-blog]

          “you’re wanda, right?”

[maxii-archive-deactivated201512]

             ❛ Как Вас зовут        ? ❜

 of course. pietro had a benefit of a doubt that  he understood the question being asked to him.

[receiiver-blog]

     not for the first time, mason wished that his      ability included a translating mechanism      --not just a bunch of noises and images he      didn’t always understand. he crosses his      arms to the best of his ability, hands full      of paintbrushes and notepads.

          “sorry?”

[heysxsterarchived]

                         “Ah… Yes I do!”

It took her a second to look through her wallet before handing it to him with a smile. She didn’t need it she had her Avengers card that let her buy next to anything. 

He seemed like a nice kid.

“Or, I could just pay for you.”

[receiiver-blog]

          “thanks.”

     he deposits the handful of change into the palm      of the cashier, leaving her to count through the      myriad of dimes and quarters he offered in      exchange for a bagel. 

          you seem nice.

     attention returns to the woman, shoulders rising      in a rueful shrug and a warm smile.

           “that’s alright, i’m just getting a bagel.”

[quiicks-blog]

receiiver. 

     ❝ —- GET DOWN!❞

[receiiver-blog]

     he’s down on the ground before he even knows      what’s going on, knees and palms pressing into      the uneven surface of an unkept sidewalk. brown      eyes slide to one side to the one that yelled out      so strongly physically and mentally.

[maxii-archive-deactivated201512]

receiiver ❤’ d for a starter.

              ❛ don’t test me. you have no idea v’hat i am capable of. ❜

[receiiver-blog]

          “wha-what is it you want? i don’t            have very much, artist and all.”

     he did have his training, punching and close      combat taught on concrete floors at quanico.

[receiiver-blog]

maxiimova ( x )

     he’s got his canvas tucked under one arm, paints      still half drying in an echo of a sunrise --not an      ideal situation, but he’s running late and smudged      paints can be fixed, but jobs are not always given--      and his bag of supplies in the other, brushes and      colors haphazardly thrown about. but as if that      weren’t bad enough, there’s a whoosh and next      thing he knows is supplies are strewn across the      sidewalk in a colorful mosaic.

          “wha-”

[pythonex-blog]

“You’re bleeding.”

She states simply, as if it weren’t already obvious, extending a hand down to help pull him to his feet. “It would probably be a good idea to get that cleaned up. Are you sure you’re alright?”

[receiiver-blog]

     if he had a quarter for every time he accidentally      ran into something because his eyes were too      distracted watching pictures of cats and lines of      humorous emails, he could probably pursue      painting as a full time career. still, he half-heartedly      wipes his fingers along the denim of his shorts      before taking the strangers hand and getting to      his feet.

          “yeah, it’ll be fine. just got a little distracted.”

[receiiver-blog]

]] shockless [[

          –softly pets faces of new followers– like for a thing

[slvrscrlt-a-deactivated20170223]

She’s feeling sympathetic today, smiles and pats the guy on the arm. Wanda moves out of the line, motioning for the next person to go. 

      ❝ There is another bank thing a           few blocks away. You want help? ❞

[receiiver-blog]

     her voice doesn’t match any of the annoyed      ones in his heads --those sources have      shuffled forward at the stranger’s behest,      eager to be on their way. there’s a slight      quirk of a smile, one hand gesturing wildly      with card in hand.

          “good to know, might have to check            that one out. and you don’t have to,            ATMs just hate me it seems. must            not have the magic touch.”