#phencyclidinc

[bigdumbbigguy]

Music and Matchsticks

( continued from here | @phencyclidinc )

He returned her curious look for several seconds, seeing who might deign to spill their secrets first—Well.  That had been the plan when he boldly walked up to her and stole something from her, but once he got a look at her up close, he was reminded of what it was like to be in close proximity to her when she wore things so tight-fitting.  His own suddenly felt similarly tight, annoyingly.

“I drove by and saw you,” He explained without having to be asked, if only because he didn’t want her to think he’d been following her.  She was free to live her life and undertake whatever missions SHIELD might have for her as she pleased, of course.. even though part of him did want to shield her from SHIELD itself.  They were not the friendliest of sorts to mutants and mutates, even if she believed Maria when she said otherwise.

His hand went to the small of her back, bringing her nearer so that conversation was not quite so difficult despite the sounds coming from everywhere all at once.  She was dressed for the club, but he wasn’t—just a short-sleeved T-shirt and some jeans that had him sticking out from everyone else.. who actually happened to have a sense of fashion to go with their musculature, even if they were a few inches and several dozen pounds lighter.

“But you did not dress up for that.”  Which was his way of asking without asking just why she was here dressed to attract someone’s attention, even if he was doing a good job of passively counteracting her clothing’s unsubtle implications of her measurements by simply standing next to her looking like a barrier best not tested. “Or this.”  He twirled the comparatively-tiny matchstick around his thumb via index finger, glancing down at the object just to look back at her more openly inquisitive.  He could have asked about the club itself, too, and whether she really enjoyed the scene—he wouldn’t know, beyond being sure it wasn’t his—but it was something to consider for the future.  Which was why the pair of fingers at the small of her back began tracing small circles, at the consideration of future, hypothetical outings together, that weren’t her on a mission and him a tag-along.

[aspernamentum]

@phencyclidinc // liked.

     “I know we were meant to do stuff today,” he was sat on the worn-out sofa in the apartment above the Snow White, the apartment stunk of pot despite the open windows. He felt like he was sinking, yet somehow the sensation was good, nice, he felt at ease, heavy. He was stoned out of his mind. “But I had a joint for breakfast an’ I know this is gon’na sound weird, but I got’ta ask -- could you spoon me? I mean like, big-spoon. I’ve never been little-spoon.” 

[hittcr-a]

"Hey, cowboy." She's almost sheepish in the way she calls out to him, but there is nothing but affection in the nickname. "How've you been?"

            “hey, angel.” eliot returns the affection in his voice, a soft smile touching his lips as he speaks. “missin’ you. but– - good. how about you? you alright? you hurt any? you….?” a pause as he fathers his words properly. “you wanna do dinner?” there’s not much to catch her up on in his life, but he wants to take her out again. he has missed her. “or– - i dunno ‘m free t’ spar ‘f you want….” there’s another pause as he moves up into her space, “’s damn good t’ see you, angel.”

[steelstature]

🍙 (she likes cooking ok? don't read too much into iiiiit [aka feel free to read too much into it~ c: ] )

Soft Intimacy Meme | Accepting | @phencyclidinc

A soft sound of surprise left the Russian as a plate materialized before him. The sight and the hand that retracted from the plate leaving him speechless for a moment until he looked up to see Angel standing there. “Thank you.” A smile graced his lips. 

Did she know that Piotr’s schedule restricted his time for self-care today? He was so talented at reminding others, keeping track of their schedules and their needs, that he forgot about himself. Too much to do. He could push it off later.

But not when Angel was there, with her beautifully stern eyes that stared him down expectedly. “I notice you cook often, is it a hobby?” He tried to detract that firm attention from himself. Maybe, he could get her to lower her guard just a little to learn about her. Piotr was made of steel and yet not even his emotional walls were as sturdy and infallible as Angel’s.

[prisoner56898]

@phencyclidinc || liked for a starter.

          Steady cadence of fists hitting softer material, heavy machines being forced out of inertia, rapid breathing – he finds it soothing, that constant burst of activity, people putting their bodies to good use, working out their aggression. Having a private gym at the Tower is all well and good, but sometimes the need to flee from the watchful gaze of the Avengers becomes pressing, so he comes here. The gym is nothing worthy of notice, most of their equipment too weak to handle the full force of his punches, but the soldier makes do; carefully measures his strength as he wears down a punching bag, arms and hands covered by long sleeves and gloves, so his prosthetic won’t show. At least here no one spares him a second glance.

[creaturesxfhabit]

@phencyclidinc the trick or treat thing, based on this wishlist post

            ❝D’ya know which idiot set off the fire alarm?❞ Alcide asked the woman beside him, he thought she looked like his neighbor across the hall but he couldn’t be sure. ❝At least I was wearing something tonight.❞ He grumbled, mostly to himself, and huffed softly. Just because he ran hotter than humans didn’t mean he wasn't affected by the cold. Standing on the sidewalk in his boxer-briefs didn’t bother Alcide as much as the recent drop in temperature did.  

[avengingspiderman]

@phencyclidinc from x

          “I thought nothing of the notification when I got your message, nearly opened it in the middle of a crowded street,” Peter casually retreats to the cover of an alleyway, making sure no one was peaking before three solid leaps had him scaling the walls to the rooftop.

“I mean, you know I love nothing more, so if you’re serious I’ll drop everything and swing on home.”  He wears a grin, pulling up his shirt and revealing just the smallest bit of the spider suit hiding beneath.

[cablesummerss]

The usual haunt is Sister Margaret’s. It’s only a couple streets down from the apartment and it’s a fine enough place to rink but sometimes, Nathan needs a change of scenery. He can only handle Dopinder and Weasel stuttering at him for so long before he wants to rip his own ears off. They’re a little more at ease when Wade is with him, but Wade took a contract somewhere in Singapore and Nate’s on his own for a little bit.

Wanting to get out of the dark cave that has become the apartment, Nate wandered until he found a place that toed the line just before seedy. A place that looked like the bathrooms were relatively clean and had working locks but would still have the kind of people frequenting it that wouldn’t look twice at him sitting at the bar.

Nate’s got on a jacket despite the warmth of the night, a glove on his left hand. He just wants a drink and to people watch, not get into any discussions where he got his arm. 

Nursing a neat whiskey, he sits at the bar and tries to be as unobtrusive as possible for a man of his bulk can. He knows he’s getting looks. It’s just the nature of his scarred face. But most of them just stare for a little then slide away, so he doesn’t feel concerned.