#praynot

[bullsh1tterz]

@praynot : : pretty lady... rewatched longlegs and she's on the mind.

[soulmissed]

@praynot

the boy’s posed his dearest stuffed animal in between them. (self-created barrier. line within sand.) august was feeling grumpy. that mood seeped into his reading, too – pages turned whiplash fast, index finger a wobbling knife beneath text.

[scribedhorror]

☂ = lee giving bill her jumper to keep warm.

@praynot || x

His arms were wrapped around his legs as blue eyes watched the chaos surrounding him. Bill didn't know what it was about him that seemed to attract this kind of thing — although he had some theories that he only examined on the nights he couldn't sleep — but at this point he was resigned to it.

He didn't flinch as the sudden weight of material being draped over his shoulders. Bill hadn't seen the agent approach, but he had felt her. All part of whatever it was inside him that allowed him to know things he shouldn't. Couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to pretend to react appropriately.

"Thank you," he murmured.

[soulmissed]

@praynot: let me rephrase that for you.

memes, accepting

“ i know what post-traumatic stress means. ”

august retorts, tremors ongoing despite thick hoodie and hot mug of broth. it wasn’t the shivers brought by frost frozen temperatures. it was the sort born from stress. shell shock. the child knows this terminology.

(his dad had been an army medic. experiences that followed him like a wraith into fatherhood.)

his teeth needle a hoodie string. “ will you sit with – with me? ”

[mvnces]

“yeah, i’m picturing it. it’s… awful.” ⸻ danno.

"Don't think too hard about it. Otherwise, it will be seared into your brain and you'll never be able to get rid of it." A nod followed the words, hands settling on his hips, and his tone making it sound like he was speaking from experience. Maybe he was. Or, maybe, he was just taking any and every opportunity that he could to poke fun at his partner even if Steve was not there to defend himself. It had been long enough that Detective Williams naturally fell into the roll of damage control in the wake of whatever bullshit his partner had stirred up. "Maybe Google some puppies. Give yourself something nice to focus on."

[mvnces]

☔ [rain] to catch illya out in the rain with no umbrella.

There was a soft mutter in Russian, an exhale of his breath, as soon as he noticed the approach.

Illya knew that he looked strange in the moment. Given his size and stature, he garnered a lot of attention without being stuck in the middle of a rainstorm. Without an umbrella or any real cover. He was not rushing to duck into any of the stores around or trying to cover himself — Maybe that was what had caught people's attention the most. That he seemed to just be standing there and accepting his fate.

The thoughts that had only lasted a half a second were shaken off. The Russian turning at the sound of splashing footsteps getting closer as a polite but strained smile found its way onto his lips.

"Agent," he greeted in a somewhat pleasant tone. It was one he had been practicing to himself, his accent fainter as he addressed Lee. "Quite the storm we've been stuck in."

[mvnces]

❝ the best time to wear a striped sweater is all the time. ❞ for illya.

The only indication that he was considering Lee's words was a small inclination of his head. Not quite the agreement that she was probably looking for but as much of a response as anyone had gotten out of him. At that point, it seemed more of a surprise that someone was trying to talk to him when Illya seemed to be a brick wall of silence.

"Striped is eye catching." Was that a bad thing? The tone of his voice made it sound like he was not particularly fond of it. The man gave a shake of his head, "Too noticeable."

As opposed to his black sweaters for almost every day of the week.

[bullsh1tterz]

₊🎞️❜ |[ @praynot showed up ]|   :

If she's panicked, it doesn't show past the exhaustion. Lee's covered in blood, spattered across her face, her chest, her arms, and there's no clear indication whether or not it's her own. Trembling, the rain having only minutely washed away some of the viscera, she leans in his doorway. ❝ Sorry.. ❞

Adam's apartment has pretty much become a free-for-all the last few years - a lock which seldom works and hinges so weak that they'd probably just rather corrode and perish. The state of it has come to piss him off, inviting in unwanteds like the plague. To the point where he's stopped registering who's shown up, instead defaulting to a casual sort of irritation until he does process things.

When he does, though, and when his doe eyes strike Lee's disheveled form, the insults that had formed up around his tongue unravel, and he beckons her in with a stance meandering on witholding and... something else. A care he wouldn't verbalize.

"Jesus fuckin' christ." he's quick to exclaim. "Do I even want to know what happened?" His way of asking, inquiring, showing investment. "Lucky the floor's already gone to shit."

Instinctually, he's moving over to the side of his crumbling cabinet and grabbing an age-old first aid kit, but his eyes do not leave the other. He makes mental note, from her shivering, to snatch one of the jackets he'd thrown on the floor on the way back to her.