#neverthehercine

[ixmtheshield-archived-blog]

@neverthehercine liked for a starter! ( and I promised no angst so ur welcome )

“So I made you breakfast in bed...but then the eggs started burning and then the smoke alarms went off. Now that I think about it, breakfast was probably a poor idea, especially with my cooking skills. And you probably didn’t appreciate the wakeup call. Oops?”

[untolikeiron-a]

neverthehercine

  Wake up to a Facebook article titled “why jessica...

[ ooc: Wtf. No. ]

they cited the new promo images as “she hates him so much she would rather stand outside in the rain than go into his office”

[mslangermann-a]

@neverthehercine liked for a starter

    A noise startled the journalist. She held her camera close, continuing to record, not risking to lose one piece of evidence for this story. Yet Lynn looked over her shoulder, hoping to see the source of the noise. Nothing but an empty alley. Adjusting in the seat of her car, Lynn sucked in a short breath and turned her attention back to the club across the street. Lingering outside the back entrance was one of New York’s finest, a politician loved by all, a man built and moulded by his image. 

    He was cheating on his wife. Drunk and fucking a stripper in the back alley. The very definition of class. Lynn felt as though she were filming some shitty, low quality porno, but this was far from the only black mark on this man’s image. For months she had complied pieces of evidence after evidence, ready to show the world the bastard this man really was. From sex trafficking to a rampant cocaine market, he ran New York’s underworld all the while fooling those above with a pretty smile and a few choice words. A bunch low grade bullshit. 

              Someone had to take him down a notch. 

[itsaboutsurviving]

@neverthehercine continued from [ here ]

“Why? ‘Cause you’re an asshole? ‘Cause you got messed up by some megalomaniac?” Logan had a pint in his own hands, idly tracing lines through the condensation running down the glass. He knew he was downplaying Kilgrave here -- both in terms of his influence, and the impact he’d had on Jessica; the damage he’d done. He couldn’t say for sure, but Logan could hazard a fair guess that Jessica was kept up most nights by nightmares, just like Logan himself. 

                    “That’s in our job description. There ain’t many of us who aren’t fucking pissed off. S’ why I’ve stuck around so long. I give a shit. -- Even when I wish like hell that I didn’t.”

[skycrafted]

               She didn’t say anything to her at first. Elektra crossed her legs over the barstool she was perched on, lids lowered over her dark brown eyes. Knowing a spotlight had been shone on her form from the moment she entered such a dusty, downtrodden environment, she merely waved the barkeep over, lips parting to cast off,  ❝  --- Tequila. Mezcal, if you have it. ❞  She highly doubted it, but she HADN’T come here for the tequila anyway.

for @neverthehercine​

[supercatburglar]

@neverthehercine continued from x:

The words catch her completely off-guard, and she starts upright from her spot on the school roof, hopping up to avoid completely falling and breaking her neck. It was lunch time, they’d snuck up onto the roof to have some time to themselves, which wasn’t usual.

She blinks, and it takes her a few moments to completely understand what Trish had signed – albeit a bit shaky. Really – she’s – thrown for a loop, and she’s for once at a complete loss on what to say. What the hell does she say to that?

She pauses, cheeks heating up to an almost embarrassing shade of pink. Normally it’s Jess who’s making Trish blush, usually they’re reversed in this situation. Her head ducks it try to hide it, a grin making it’s way across her face. She can’t fight it as much as she tries.

“Would you –” She starts, not making eye-contact ( which – Jessica never does. Eye-contact was always important to her ) “– want to kiss me?” She signs it shyly, hands moving through the air with slight hesitance.

She doesn’t know why she said it.

Yes, she does.

Because she hasn’t been able  to stop thinking about it since she woke up. Because she just keeps seeing Jessica leaning in over and over and over, and she keeps thinking she can feel Jessica’s lips touch hers over and over and over. And it’s so distracting, and Jessica is the only person she can tell. It’s not like she has other friends. And it’s not like she’d want to tell someone else about this.

Plus, she just... she kind of wants Jessica to know. But she doesn’t know why. Maybe because they already share pretty much everything?

“I don’t know,” she signs back. She can’t help but fidget-- shift from foot to foot. “I don’t want to kiss anyone else...”

[cruelonlytobekindarchived]

@neverthedipshit (x)

She’d felt the pull from across the room and it had been strange in its way, like an echo shouting from another world. It’s somewhere else, somewhere she doesn’t quite know of, inside a vacuum or a tunnel. It’s a Parisian restaurant-- her voice had colored mirthfully as she spoke to her server, smooth, elegant French that rolled easily off her tongue. And then she’d looked over, and once she’d looked over right there she had felt it--

It was a pull, and it still is, a call from a thousand miles away and yet right beside her. Something feels right in a way she was not sure could be right before and she finds herself afraid that it FEELS THIS WAY.

(He told her that he was hers. He had insisted on it, and she had been sure-- over and over and over she had been sure-- he was hers and there was nothing she could do about it. HE WAS HERS, HE INSISTED ON IT. And she believed him because it was easier-- because it is easier to just believe him. It is easier to just swallow the fact and hide beneath the shame, the humiliation, to bear it like a scarlet letter and to move on.)

But she feels right.

It’s never been that way before.

She can see that little glint of a shade in those eyes-- hazel, she thinks, pays attention-- and she can feel something. It’s stirring in her gut, and the feeling is a plea in the dark, a small, still voice shouting up and up and up.

She takes that hand and holds it in a glove, black and sleek, and she clutches it a little tighter. Covers the hand still in the young woman’s with her own, keeps that shake closed between soft palms, and she keeps eye contact. Doesn’t move it.

“COME WITH ME.”

It isn’t harsh, but it calls back, like a shout in the dark yet again, a plea.

She doesn’t know why she’s saying it.

[untolikeiron-a]

STARTER || @neverthehercine

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, it’s just... I couldn’t think of like a two word phrase to sum you up. That’s all.”