#axillery

[90svanbye]

ur portrayal alone makes me want to watch yj

get out of here with this 🤍🤍🤍 no but thank you edi! that’s such a compliment. i also support you watching yj to the fullest extent, not biased at all nope

[005198]

♡ @axillery, ELLIS.

          “   you know,     when i got to earth   (—)     …this isn’t what i was expecting.   “

[soulmissed]

@axillery: we need to stay together. from quentin!

memes, accepting

quentin stoops alongside him, hefting august’s limp arm across his shoulders. the jostling triggers a winded grunt. (august fell ill two days ago. body aches. cough. he needs medical attention.) they stray down the sidewalk. a crack-of-dawn murk swamps unoccupied streets.

august nudges his open palm into shop glass window. intentionally obstructing their desperate stride. “ leave me. ” cough, cough. “ ‘m just gonna slow you down. ” bloodshot eyes fend off tears. he strains to yank his arm free.

[widauxs]

          “a world without color,   hm?”          even prior to tragedy,   isaline had always adorned herself with black.     often a deep black velvet,   it would illuminate her porcelain skin and further darken her mahogany hair     [...]        what could she say?   it’s a good color on her.          “i think i’d fit in very well there.”

@axillery (spider-noir)

[preluded]

@axillery, i don't let anyone touch me.

shelby's actions have been anything but conventional lately. lingering in nightclubs until dawn's first light breaches the skyline, ignoring her agent's barrage of calls, and now— engaging in a scheme that borders on the cinematic kind of recklessness served for movie screen anti-heroes. if commitment to her career was even in question, this latest antic would surely dispel any doubts. yet, through the chaos of her choice, a chorus rages within her. on one side, a voice is steeped in reason, blaring alarms, questioning the sanity of her current predicament. with the outcome of the godspell audition hanging in balance, a mere week away, the tension gnaws the strings of her sanity like a relentless gnat. the prospect of waiting for the verdict any longer feels tantamount to a prison sentence of internal combustion. in contrast, there's another voice— a stranger's whisper, unrecognizable counsel within the cacophony of her mind, urging her forward. this voice, foreign and yet compelling, coaxes her to the edge of reason, toeing the line of legality and sanity. the decision, once made, feels irreversible— propelled by both desperation and the money she's already poured into this.

upon realizing the weight of her actions, physically recoiling from the hacker's shoulder as his words slice through her nerve-wracked facade, shelby's gaze drops. a momentary glance, once stealthily aimed at the glowing promise of the computer screen, now finds solace in the less confrontational ground. her lips purse, a silent acknowledgment of the awkwardness of the entire situation. “sorry— i'm just a little nervous.” she admits, her voice threading the line between confession and understatement. nervous? it was the understatement of the year. the concept of potentially hacking into the shubert theatre's servers, the dread of potential repercussions, the gnawing fear of what she might (or might not) discover about her audition. the worst-case scenario haunts her: her name isn't even a footnote in their decision-making process.

retreating backward, she anchors her hands on her hips, a physical attempt to reclaim some semblance of control over the situation. (and her rapidly spiraling thoughts.) “it won't happen again,” she states, more to herself than to brute.

[glorykill]

videos would flicker and gently distort , muted shouting and mumbling sounding out from the footage... a collection of spider people capturing anomalies in their respective dimensions. it's getting worse... miguel had charged himself with overlooking the gathered data , crimson irises rapidly peering over what seemed to be hours upon hours of collected feed... lyla was still decompressing it all , but he didn't trust anyone else to sift through it — even as his eyelids grew heavy and his back ached from hours of hunching over computer screens. " what a shocking mess... it'll take weeks before we get everyone back to where they belong. "

@axillery ( patrick o'hara ) said : why so down? lemme turn that frown upside down, yea?

so wrapped up in his work , miguel failed to notice patrick's looming presence... bootsteps going unheard as he sauntered towards miguel's hunched form. great , now i can never finish. as much as the spider-man of 2099 desired to ignore his sibling , he knew it was an impossibility... and he was far too exhausted to play the long-game of cat and mouse. with a weary sigh , he would lift his head to peer at the man standing beside him , lips pursed into a thin line of subtle irritation. " and how do you plan on doing that ? " miguel's tone comes out a bit harsher than he intended it to , his lack of sleep had finally caught up with him... a pounding in the back of his mind signaling the impending headache. " look , patrick , i have to finish cataloging all of this... don't waste your time here. " as his eyes drift back onto the screens , he couldn't help the squinting that ensued... the light was suddenly too bright , too harsh on sensitive pupils that could hardly stand a dimly lit room to begin with. maybe i should stop... i can barely keep my eyes open... the man could only be stubborn for so long , fingertips gently pressing against the softer flesh of his temple in his attempt to relieve the ache. fine... fine , whatever. " even if i were to indulge you , if you start making any unfunny jokes , i'm going to web your mouth shut. "

[soulmissed]

@axillery: pinky promise? [ from crow ]

memes, accepting

august loops his pinky finger around theirs. a voiceless promise. he’s right here and ain’t goin’ anywhere. (because big brother embodiment will protect them.) he plants a kiss to the crown of their head. i got you, little one.

[soulmissed]

@axillery: happy birthday auggie! here: have my jacket. it was my brother’s … so it fits. from brother to brother. [ from quentin ]

august’s birthday, accepting

august examines the jacket with a tender eye. (wear-and-tear. signs of possession loved well.) the boy snakes his wire arms into it. “ thanks. ” his eyes sweep to quentin. “ could you tell me about him? ”