PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Stranger Things
trying on a metaphor
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
Xuebing Du
pixel skylines
Product Placement
@theartofmadeline
taylor price
🪼
will byers stan first human second
Andulka
Cosmic Funnies
Love Begins
AnasAbdin
we're not kids anymore.
titsay
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document
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@rensovia
#RENSOVIA / a multimuse blog piloted by reyes ( 22 / she/they ). highly selective, slow activity, and mutuals exclusive writing blog. will be a queue-driven blog. features muses from film / television, video games, and original characters. an exploration in loss & betrayal, adventures in past – present – future, and growth & development.
— blog info and muse list. — memes here — also at fatedfuturist, getwebbed.
what if i just make more ocs but don’t bother giving them face claims bc im a lazy bitch and attempt to write,
Wow. So not ready to tie the knot yet then?
bokketo.
Fine enough in Avengers lingo — she hesitates to call it ‘superhero speak’ because she doesn’t consider herself one at the very least — may or may not have anything to do with how well someone is. Natasha is plenty guilty of this.
“Abandon me?” She rolls her eyes with a little smile. “I wouldn’t accuse you of that, Sam. Everyone knows you’re dutiful to fault.” And she means that wholeheartedly ; she’s noticed how much of a stickler he is about his observations. It’s almost strange to her how adamantly he keeps his promises.
Not that she doesn’t, she simply rarely makes promises at all. If people imply them, that’s on them and not her. At least that’s what she’ll say if anyone asks.
“But if you’re awake and aware, talk me through our strategy. I know we’re posing as if we’re buying their weapons stock, but actually doing so is a waste of our resources. They’ll just buy more. So we find their cache and then what? And what if they ask for payment up front, do you want to hand it over and reclaim it or go a different route?”
“To a fault!” Not much he can deny, unfortunately. Though a part of him feels it again, the guilt creeping up behind the curtains, just waiting for the right moment to strike. I left Riley. It’s not that he hasn’t moved on from things that have been out of his control, it’s just being human. Sam is human, and what comes with that are uncontrollable feelings that remind him of his past that has been traumatic. “I guess I can’t knock what ain’t wrong.” It’s shit like what’s happened to Riley that makes him want to be there for everybody else. You never know what’ll happen, what’ll go wrong—how can he do nothing in the face of the painful lesson learned?
He cracks his knuckles. “Well,” he drawls, “we’ve already traced down where their payments are going. That makes it easier for us to just get it back.” They have the technology and the pull…mostly. Sure, it might be a little inconvenient, but they don’t have much of an alternative unless they want to look ten times more suspicious upfront. “It’s wired offshore, but we’ve called in a couple of favours. The account is monitored. We can pay, but then the money will be redirected before they even notice they’ve lost both weapons and their cash. How fun is that?” He’s too enthusiastic about this. “Unless you had a better plan up your little sleeve?”
bokketo.
Catherine grins good-naturedly. She’s been working at the bar long enough to have seen all sorts of morose customers — sob stories, angry and bitter bastards, and… people like this guy who seems to pull a cloak of danger tightly around him. She doesn’t mind. Unless she actively hates them, she doesn’t kick them out. The ones that have their emotions run almost impossibly high make good victims, after all. V has been a little more resistant. She likes a challenge, of course, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t just enjoy a conversation too.
“Do you really think you’d know what to do with yourself if you were cruising? I sure don’t. I like the adrenaline, and death isn’t exactly the worst of bedfellows, if you know how to cut it.” Drain them dry, watch them fall in their dreams and die before they wake. Her smile is almost fond, if a bit shark-like.
The question is valid, because if he’s being frank, he doesn’t know to do at all. That’s something he’s had to become comfortable with for the time being, because V’s had to face a lot of tough decisions in the past few months. He’s spent so much of his time wishing he could grow old, make his own choices, become famous, but so much of it feels like he’s backfired. When people used to ask about what life means, he’s always thrown the question out the window. It’s always supposed to be some easy response, he guesses, but he’s run in circles. “I don’t think I have much of a choice of how exactly I die.” He could be shot or stabbed, run over by a car. Or something weird and obscure, like a microwave being dropped off the balcony and hitting him below on the sidewalk. Ugh, why’d I think about that? “But cruisin’ ain’t all that bad, is it? Comfortable, steady. Sure, not as much adrenaline and all, but sometimes even that gets to be too much.” Or that’s just him. Probably just him. “I like a bit of change of pace. Same shit gets old, and I ain’t gettin’ any younger either.”
fully recovered from c*vid now and i haven’t written for like 2+ months and cherry is already trying to bully me into making an affiliated oc (and to return to messblr)...
#this will never not be funny
category is: nick looking at charlie with heart eyes pt. 2 (pt. 1)
I know I haven't been writing for a hot min but like my Nick and Charlie brainrot is just There and I think I might add both of them to my roster...have some sweet sunshine boys...
bokketo.
Clint doesn’t know Carson terribly well yet, but he does know that the man is reliable enough. There aren’t very many super-powered vigilantes in the community at the moment — at least not here, which is strange given the population density — and Carson’s work had caught the archer’s eye a couple months ago. Now, they’ve taken to occasionally working together, especially because Clint has a knack for provoking people and corralling them into an area while Carson contains them. To have someone who is both in the vigilante circuit and not killing people left and right has been refreshing.
The plot that Clint is trying to foil this time is risky, though. He frowns. “By learn something new, if you mean heard strong rumors and saw some really strange shit, then yes? I was investigating Hood, who maybe interrupted some sort of demon ritual and gained weird powers or maybe just pretends he did? Either way, he can turn invisible, levitate, and take on some sort of weirdly demonic face, and… I don’t know what else. I figured if anyone might be able to keep him from escaping, it might be you.”
There are stranger things to be heard than what just came out of Clint’s mouth. He isn’t one to work together with other often, finding that he prefers running solo because that means he doesn’t need to rely on anybody else but himself, but he won’t turn away assistance if it means doing something good in the moment. And Clint is dragging him into something, unfortunately, and it’s a bit late to turn back now, though the urge is there. “...A demon ritual.” Honestly, maybe he should’ve stayed back in London. He’s beginning to wonder what purpose being here brings him.
He rubs at his forehead. “Well, as long as phasing through wood isn’t a power of his, if he does have any, sure, I could lock the man up in a little personal jail cell.” Which wouldn’t be the first time he’s done it, because he does it more often than he’s willing to admit. It’s just so convenient. “Except you don’t know if he has any intangibility powers, so that puts us in a pickle, doesn’t it?” Carson muses. “The only way to find out would be to face him. What’s been his targets as of late? Mindless murder?”
starseized.
lips turn into puzzled frown as the boy tilts his head to the side, looking closely at the other. it usually takes him a while to get a full read on someone, and he isn’t quite there yet with this familiar face. everyone at school insists teamwork is better, safer, so he hasn’t figured out why so many people insist on going the lone wolf vigilante route. not that he can say much, considering he’s here on his own right now, but that’s besides the point. at least, it is in his head.
“are you poking around for a different reason?”
it’s a question based in curiosity, but it’s pointed all the same. why would he listen to someone who’s telling him not to do something when they’re doing it anyways? sure, he’s a kid, but that doesn’t mean he can’t handle himself out here. he’s been training for this sorta thing, after all. as much as he loathed to admit it, book learning could only get him so far, he needed to learn how things worked in the real world, what a real fight consists of. he wants to learn those patterns, analyze it all, know for a fact he can handle himself on his own should he need to face a threat without his team.
“besides, this is like… hands-on experience for school, in a way. like a…what was it called? an extra-curricular bit of experience.”
Only one person knows his true identity, and that’s only because they discovered Carson’s powers together. If it were up to himself, he wouldn’t tell anyone. It’s a secret identity after all, and these vigilante routes beg for anonymity, a path to be walked alone. And the last thing he needs is to be gallivanting around the city with a group of vigilantes, drawing attention to themselves.
“I’m poking around because I’ve been after this lead for a month.” Which is unacceptable under his own standards, because it’s getting exhausting. There’s smuggling happening throughout this part of town, and it’s hurting more than just those that are involved. Innocent people are getting caught up in tirades between gangs, the fight between property and land, and it’s snowballing to a point where people are beginning to fear for their lives while taking out the garbage.
Children are naïve. Children are liabilities. As much as he wants to treat Ben like any other adult, he doesn’t want the kid to be dying on his watch. That’s guilt he doesn’t need, nor want, on his own conscious. The kid probably has more friends than Carson does, and that means there’d be plenty of people missing him. “This,” he begins to chide, “isn’t just a walk-in-the-park robbery case. Whatever you think is happening, it’s much bigger, and much much worse, and not safe for you.”
Nathan Drake, that two-bit thief. “Risking it all for some piece of treasure.” I guess that’s how they know me, how they’ll… remember me. But that’s not who I am.
UNCHARTED 4: A THIEF’S END (2016)
bokketo.
Steve grins at him. He does indeed have a lot of fun ‘punching out baddies’ as it were, and has been doing so since he was approximately eight years old. That’s several decades of experience, he’d point out, and he does a pretty good job of it. Sure, his shoulder aches just a touch — a couple bullets have grazed him, and the shield didn’t completely protect him from one of the explosions, though that was mostly because he was trying to make sure that it didn’t affect a non-healing-powered Clint. Still, nobody is critically injured, and Sam just seems tired, really.
“Aw, come on,” he teases. “We’ve dealt with worse than a couple scratches and bruises before. This was a landslide victory… collateral damage aside.” At least he has the sense to wince at that. They’ve nearly leveled a city block. “You’re okay, though, right?”
Of course he’s tired, anyone would be tired after a fight like that, but he understands the usual doesn’t apply to someone like Steve. He’s never held his own standards to him, because frankly, they’re several levels below what Steve holds himself up to. There’s something to be said about all that psychologically, but he also knows he’s somewhat of a hypocrite if he were to critique the guy on his habits. Sam is all human and soul, and thoug he can take his punches, he can’t last the way a superhuman can.
“Collateral damage aside, which I think I’m gonna have to go help with,” he throws back, wiping sweat and blood off with a wet towel. “Families or individuals displaced from their homes, kinda need to help them get back onto their feet.” People don’t understand that part of Sam’s job is to help people beyond fighting the crime, because the government sure as shit ain’t gonna do that. “But I’m fine. Just got winded.” He’s not assessed any further damage on his own body beyond the face and arms, but he’ll manage. “And would prefer not to be blown up in the air.”
wcrldliar.
maria thinks she’s a fantastic tour guide.
( she’s not. ) she’s straightforward, she doesn’t care for the mindless bullshit details regarding the facility, and her information is accurate. sure, maybe explaining a little bit more on what’s happening around might’ve helped the guy assimilated much better with the surrounding, but it’s tough love, you know ? ( it’s not. ) and curiosity is good. let the guy explore later on. he’ll know where’s where in no time.
see - an amazing tour guide. coulson would’ve given her an award. maybe a pat on the back. the whole shabam.
regardless, maria moves forward. the entrance spills open, and whatever office-like environment they’re in slowly morphs into a more acceptable living area. couches and shelves of book with the kitchenette. the bowl is just like the way maria remembers vision would’ve left it. every colour of the rainbow in one place. it’s - whatever. she snaps her eyes as they go over the doors. ‘ everybody who hasn’t been in direct contact with stark’s technology says that. over here. this should be your room. ’
they stand in front. maria voices out: ‘ hey FRIDAY. can we check xu shangqi in ? ’
[ sure, commander hill. welcome xu shanqi. please stand still so we can scan your facial recognition and officially put it in our database for future access. ] FRIDAY voices out, almost script-like, if not for the nearly casual drawl to her tone. maria tries not to think about the brilliance of tony stark, about how sometimes pepper sees it in their daughter the more she grows and how she’d wanted to tell it to maria, just because it was something that friends do. they tell each other these things.
thinking about morgan stark does nothing but make whatever hole in her stomach grow, though. she knows, logically, that the kid doesn’t put the blame on anyone. but guilt is a persistent son of a bitch. it doesn’t care if anyone knows; just that the owner doesn’t forget.
‘ this is mostly so that no one trespasses your area unless you’ve given them permission to. the moment they know it isn’t you— ’ maria steps in front, and tries on the knob. immediately, there’s a lock on it that hinders any entrance. the sound goes : thud. prominent and promising. maria lets go. she steps back. ‘ but if it is you… ’ her chin juts out, a beckoning, for him to give it a try.
the penthouse is quiet. then again, it hasn’t seen a regular occupant since before the battle at the airport. now it’s nothing but a fancy place to sometimes house banner whenever he’s in town. she knows he’s only ever goes here when he’s really tired, though. otherwise, even the lab would’ve looked more welcoming.
‘ so. not to cut the joy ride short, xu, but — i’d like to ask a few things about the ten rings. not the devices you’re wielding. i’ll leave that to wong — for now. but your father’s organisation. you might want to sit down. ’
It all feels far too foreign, the more he thinks about it. Yeah, he’s seen the Avengers, he’s seen superheroes and villains and things that shouldn’t exist but do, and sure, he now possesses the power of magical, ancient rings that no one knows things about, but he’s not as confident as the energy he exudes is. The uncertainty still rests there, uncomfortable and heavy in his chest as he stares ahead at a winding road of a path that’s untraveled and for him and only him. No longer is he a kid driving vehicles all day for rich people, but he’s become somewhat of a hero, and a fighting icon of some sort, neither of which he’s wanted to ask for.
He’s always wanted normal. A normal life. His parents, his family. No killing, no armies, no magical demons sucking souls. It’s now impossible to have it, and he has a feeling that the longer he tries to live these two parts of his life separately, the more he’ll struggle with his future. Maybe both are mixing together as is, lines blurring as he’s dragged Katy into this part of his life, but she’s not a trained assassin. Her choice or not, he’s not excited for the losses he’s sure to have to come to terms with as time moves forward.
This is fun, he thinks to himself, and it’s just a joke at this point. There’s no convincing him. It’s terrifying is what it is, but he forces his brain to think more...well, positive thoughts. “Okay,” he breathes out, and he stands there, still enough to be mistaken for a statue, as a wave of blue light washes over him. When it’s over, he does go for the doorknob, and with a twist, it opens up.
And it is nice, and much bigger than anything he’s lived in for the last ten years of his life, but if he’s being frank, it still feels wrong. ShangQi doesn’t voice this, because it has nothing to do with her, or this place, as much as it is about his own inner emotions and thoughts that are more than just a jumbled mess. “Oh, uh, yeah, sure I guess.” He doesn’t know anything about it from recent years, but he’ll go along with it anyway. They’re the good guys. That’s how it works, you help with the good guys.
He heads toward the closest seat, a couch that feels more expensive than anything he’s ever laid his hands on in his entire life. “I might not know everything. I was gone from...it all for a while.”
He’s not my boyfriend. This man is more to me than you can dream. He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold. And his kiss still thrills me, even after a millennia. His heart overflows with the kindness of which this world is not worthy of. I love this man beyond measure and reason. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s all and he’s more.
ironicarus.
THE LAB HAS STOLEN HIS MIND TODAY. from sun up to sun down, attention has been dedicated to his sanctuary. it’s not odd for him to lose track of time. there are days where he’ll feel as though it’s been mere minutes, when in realty it’s been hours. today has just been one of those days. he’s sat atop stool, body hunched forward, large pair of safety glasses pulled over eyes. he has a torch in hand, though it’s not lit, nor has been in awhile. however, focus has not let up long enough for man to remove goggles. perhaps the only person who could steal him away from such a state, is connor.
jarvis warned him of the incoming visitor, but to be completely honest, words went in one ear and right out the other. it’s not until his finacé is actually entering the lab, mentioning food, that he pulls away from the table of messy ideas, grin immediately igniting. he makes grabby hands towards both the takeout box, and the man himself. ❝ i’d waste away without you, you know that? ❞
A schedule works for someone like him. Workout at six and midnight, eat at eight, one, and seven. Attempt to sleep at eleven, and if not, workout. It keeps him steady, grounded, knowing that there’s a regiment to follow. He’ll consider the structural aspect of his life a remnant of his army days, but he just finds that it helps to keep him on track. That means that any free hour in between is spent wandering about or working, depending on the day of the week. He’s the complete opposite for Tony, the type to just get caught up in work and stay down in the lab for days on end. Connor isn’t bothered by it that much, doesn’t need constant attention or affection throughout his day, but he does like to take care of him by bringing food or dragging him to shower. Sleep is...complicated, he’ll take a fuckin’ nap from Tony over nothing if he has to.
“Yeah, and I’d prefer if you didn’t, so I guess I’ll keep ensurin’ you don’t waste away.” There’s not much good in his life outside of Tony, if he’s being frank, and though he’s not one to admit it aloud much with his somewhat stoic and dry personality, he can’t lie to himself that what he has is all he has. It may not be much in comparison to everybody else, but it just means he’s tenfold more protective and caring. He hands Tony one of the takeout boxes and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead. When he pulls back, he comments, “You smell of...metal. No offense.” It’s accompanied by a small smile. “Been busy today?”
888 CELEBRATION | The Old Guard (2020) - requested by @milcsmorales (PT. 2)
