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i just realized i can finally post this
mind intro template i made a month or so ago !!!1!1!1 i made it for personal use but why not share it with everyone maybe it’ll interest some of u :3
example!!!
different colors below the cut + gray ver
. . GIRLS NIGHT ! ♡
I relate to this on a spiritual level lmao
kastle + laguardia :)
Laguardia is an airport, right? Lmaoo I’m so stupid, I had to google it. I’ve never been to New York, I only know about JFK.
Karen isn’t really sure what her plan is, now that her father has made it abundantly more clear that she is not welcome home. The rage and pain of the loss of Kevin and the roll of which she played still ever present in his every interaction with her. And she understands that, she really does. It’s not as if Karen has forgiven herself for driving them into a battlement of crunching plastic steel and shattering glass – she doesn’t expect her father to feel much differently. She can still see the red of blood staining the backs of her lids, whenever she closes her eyes – especially now, as she finds herself on the run from more trouble she’s shoved herself into where it she didn’t need.
It was stupid of her to go to the hotel and gain entry into his sham of a prison – she recognizes a plan built on the back of desperation when she sees it, when she carries it out on her own. But, the burning idea of “maybe” and “if he only just…” was too strong for her to not gamble the odds – that Wilson Fisk would reach across the table, after she confessed her most recent crime ending in the red stain of another, and harm her in some way anyway that would get him put back where he belonged.
A stupid plan that didn’t work and she should’ve known.
But, Karen thinks as she stares forward to a little kid playing with a tiny toy car across the discolored carpeting, doing nothing does nothing and she will never do nothing again.
Her father had hung up on her, despite the sounds of her sniffles she is more than sure that he was able to hear through the line, in an alarmingly quick fashion and she’d had less than no time to plan her next move. She knew she was being hunted by someone masquerading as Matt and far more deadly. She knew, better than most, that Fisk was powerful beyond measure. This will be the second time he’s had other men do his dirty work and try and take her out – her mind raises a phantom hand to rub at the span of her neck, where the bed sheet once wrapped. Her only option was to get out of New York for awhile, hunker down and lay low.
It’s not like she had a job to do, anyway – what with the whole being fired thing.
And that’s what she’s doing. She just needs her flight to come, so she can get out of the busy and dangerous city to Bumfuck, USA – or wherever her ticket is to, she can barely remember. Definitely not Vermont. Her father obviously wouldn’t let her in and she figures the rest of the family will follow. She doesn’t want to endure the images of her Granny Louanne (or any other family member who would dare open their doors to her) ripped apart and riddled with oozing burning holes, anyway.
How many people that she loves can she be she damned to get killed? She can’t have any more of their blood on her hands. She can’t. There’s only so much a person can recover, before they’re broken beyond repair.
Karen’s mind is so occupied with worry that she only notices the presence coming closer, as it’s already placing it’s weight in seat next to her. She keeps her eyes on the child while he plays and remains as calm as she’s able, as her hand immediately inches it’s way into her purse, before recalling with a internal curse that she has nothing with her to protect her. She couldn’t very well bring a gun into LaGuardia – that would be thrusting herself into the spotlight, instead of sinking away into the depths of the dark shadows.
How many mistakes can she make in the span of two days? How many decisions can she make that are going to get her fucking killed!
“Chicago, huh?”
Karen whips her head to the right, her ears not believing what her eyes suddenly see – her mind not registering the truth.
Frank tilts his head and lifts his arm, bringing a cup of coffee to his lips, “Good a place as any. Big enough to hide, familiar enough to feel like you stand out.”
“…Frank?! What are you–” she shakes the fuzz out of the space between her ears and drops her voice down to below a whisper. “What are you doing here?”
“Got a call from David about some trouble,” he shrugs and Karen takes in the sight of him. She hasn’t seen him since the last time she was kidnapped (and isn’t that a joke if there ever was one – the last time she was kidnapped, shit) where he stood upon a roof and shot at faceless never ending ninjas. (Ninjas! What has her life come to?) “Punched a bunch of fucking buttons on a computer and did that thing where he stalks people ‘til he gets what he wants…found you here.”
His hair is short, again, and the beard the was swarming his face last she saw him long gone. His eyes are bright as they rest upon her face, but alert in a way that hers accidentally stopped being an hour ago, scanning the airport for the both of them. But, best of all, there’s no purple and yellow marks upon his face – it’s as clean as ever, only faint and faded scars of old painted against his skin. And there’s a merry clench around her heart at that clear canvas, just as there was when he’d called out her name on the street and asked to come to her home.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he’s talking and watching her as she watches him.
“Chicago?” she glances down at her ticket, clutched in the hand not grasped at the nothingness in her purse . “Yes…Chicago. Windy…Safe.”
“You know I would’ve come.”
Karen squints her eyes and mimics the tilt of his head, “Do I know that, Frank?”
He nods in an absentminded manner and sweeps the room. He’s not contacted her since he left through the top of that elevator and he knows that as much as she does. “That’s fair,” he hums. “I should have made it clear. I was…busy.”
“Not in the usual way,” she gestures towards his face.
“No, not in the usual way.”
Karen pulls her hand out of her bag and pulls it into a fist, “That’s good…Frank.” She opens her mouth to say more, but a monotone voice sounds out above their heads signaling boarding to her flight to apparently Chicago. Karen hovers for a moment and pulls her eyes back to the child, who’s parent is pulling him up off of the floor. Despite how it’s set her mind off axis, Frank’s sudden appearance doesn’t change the dire consequences of the situation, so she stands abruptly. When Frank does the same, she turns back to him, with a question in her brow and panic seeping out of her pores.
She really doesn’t have time for a famous Page and Castle bounce around, lives are on the line and she has to get out of New York.
“Chicago, huh?” he repeats, pulls another drink from his coffee, and holds up a ticket in his other hand and the breath rapidly leaves Karen’s lungs.
He’s coming with her?
To Chicago?
Her own dad told her not to come.
“You can tell me all about Fisk when we get there. Shit, you’re always gettin’ yourself into trouble, Karen. I do not understand it,” he looks both exasperated and impressed – which is often how she feels about him.
“Yeah, well so are you,” her whisper raises slightly, sharpens with a touch of hurt that she’s not really interested in exposing to him. Especially not now, when everything is so much worse than Frank Castle not pushing through his own fogs to call her. “You’re the king of getting yourself into trouble, I seem to recall a certain trial.”
“Yeah, now that was a party…Guess we’re both willing to throw everything away to get to some sorta justice.”
She watches him reach down to a backpack that she hadn’t noticed and gesture towards the line that’s formed, eyes ever vigilant. “You could’a gotten a ticket to California or something. It’s fucking cold in Chicago, right now.”
She brings them to into the line, “Next time I’m running for my life, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
He huffs out a laugh, “We both know there’ll be a next. Too nosy for your own good – you’d be damn good friends with David, actually.”
She looks back at him, “…I’m trying to be damn good friends with you.”
“Yeah,” he nudges her towards the lady looking to scan their tickets. “I know, Page.”
I gave up at the end ✌ ✌ ✌ writing is hard ✌ ✌ ✌ it’s not three lines ✌ ✌ ✌
I’m evil I know. But I just went and watched it again. Ooooooops lololololololz
Yuzu: *singing* Hit me baby one more time!
Mei: *punches Yuzu*
Yuzu: Ow! Mei! What the heck?!
Mei: You wanted to be hit. I just complied to your wishes.
Yuzu: But it's a song!
Mei: ...
Yuzu: ...
Mei: ...
Mei: *shrugs* Well, you asked for it.
