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Shot me out of the sky, You're my kryptonite. You keep making me weak, yeah Frozen and can't breathe. Something's gotta give now, Cos I'm dying just to make you see That I need you here with me now. Cos you've got that one thing. So get out, get out, get out of my head And fall into my arms instead. I don't, I don't don't know what it is But I need that one thing. You've got that one thing.
❀ o.o
Send ‘❀’ if my muse is one of your favorites
// Oh my goodness I love you too!!
♣ ☎ ∞ ◊ ((hi!))
☎: For a drunk phone call.
"Simmons Simmons Simmons—" Ward scrunches up his nose as he repeats the biochemist’s last name over and over. Luckily (or perhaps not) he’s dialled her number and hit voicemail. So at least she isn’t there to hear his mess of slurring syllables. "—You know Fitz just doesn’t shut up about you, right? All the bloody way to Uri’s he was telling me ‘funny’ stories. Bugger if I undertood them.” He pauses, thinking. There was something else…Oh, that’s right. “And you stole my Night Night pistol!” Of the horror, Agent Ward! “I’m kinda proud of you f’ that—” (And that, Jemma, is where he accidentally drops his phone in his drink.)
∞: A random headcanon about my muse and yours.
After the incident with the Chitauri virus, Ward offered to give Simmons skydiving lessons. They never actually jumped out of The Bus, don’t worry, but for three days while the helmet was taken care of and they were grounded, he taught her everything he knows. He’s fairly confident that if Simmons ever wants to launch herself out of a plane again — and has the common sense to take a chute, this time — she’ll be fine.
◊: Your muse comes to mine, crying, how does my muse react?
Why she came to him, Ward has no idea. Shouldn't it be Fitz that deals with these sorts of things? Uh, well, okay then. He gives Jemma a cursory once over. Something's happened, clearly — oh maybe it's got to do with Fitz, that's why she's not with her lab partner. (Okay but if that's the case, surely Coulson or Skye or even May are better choices for this than him— -? -—poop with knives, remember?) "Uh," he knaws at the inside of his cheek and pulls his legs back to give her room to sit down on the couch next to him. Snagging the blanket that usually stays draped over the apholstery, he offers it to her. Jemma takes it, sniffs once, and wraps it around her shoulders. "Do you want to talk about it?"
♣: Here, have a not so regular (maybe even a dirty one) text message.
[ TEXT: Simmons ] You know that beaker by the dwarve’s? The one with the blue stuff in it? [ TEXT: Simmons ] Yeah I made a guy drink it today so he’d give us information.[ TEXT: Simmons ] Sorry.
silentreclaimer chocolatesandpotatoes shieldagentjsimmons genocideandcharm cow-tailed-seductress
"Who are you?" Loki snarled, eyes narrowing as he slowly started to circle the stranger that had appeared before him.
♡
//That’s so sweet, why haven’t we RP’d?!
☆ *proceeds to hide*
☆ I’d Submitt for you
"That is a very wise decision, love."
Age 16: Who (or what) is the love of your life?
"Love of my life?” He laughed, wrinkling his nose, “I don’t have a ship yet, but when I do, I just know that she’ll be it.”
⇓ ⇓ ⇑ ⇑
More?
"I don’t like the idea of possession; ‘belonging to someone’, that whole mess. Nothing with other people bein’ around or involved.…But I don’t mind feeling nails and pinning.”
