#talescfshadows

[threegoldfish]

@talescfshadows sent: “british people be like: i’m bri-ish.” (from deadpool) Some meme from my meme tag || always accepting

"---Oi!"

...Well, that's probably the most bri-ish way to reply to such an accusation being made - and it kind of cancels out that initial indignation which has caused said 'Oi' to appear in the first place, doesn't it? Steven, however, doesn't seem to notice - simply because he's... a little occupied, so to say.

---Actually, scratch that - his reason for being occupied is finally crumbling under the merciless attack of Steven's truncheons, giving in, collapsing on the ground with what aren't exactly fatal injuries to sustain, but they're serious enough to keep that bloke from getting back up anytime soon. Unlike Jake, Steven's not one to enjoy the act of taking a life, so... yeah, he prefers to knock enemies out and let the police do their thing after (or someone else, whoever's going to handle the aftermath) or he hands over the body to the others whenever it's time to apply the fatal blow.

Anyways - with that idiot now being knocked out cold, Mr. Knight stares at the guy for a few seconds longer while seemingly trying to figure out what to do next; He fiddles a bit with his truncheons, then puts them back where they belong (against the small of his back) before his attention returns to the other masked man who's appeared out of seemingly nowhere, making fun of his British-ness, just like that! White glowing eyes focus on him, taking in the sight, as he lifts a gloved finger, like a parent scolding their child, before letting out another, much firmer "Oi!" to add to the first one.

"First of all, how dare you! I'm just being me, is all!" Steven's just Steven and he happens to be British! "---Second of all, rude! Could say the same about Americans, but I don't because I'm a decent, well-mannered human being, unlike you!"

There! Wiggling his finger from left to right, Steven stands a bit more straight - like he's just given a verbal fatal blow here he's very much proud of - before his hand sinks back down, both now pushed against either side of his hips. Brows knit beneath his mask as he keeps looking at the other, head tilting...

Huh? Wait a minute! That man looks a lot like---

"...Wait, aren't you---"

[retriibutions]

@talescfshadows liked this for a starter. gif cred. ( tony & loki )

"ah, hello stark," the words are teasing, almost flirtatious even without meaning to be. the chaos god looks as if he completely meant for tony stark to stumble upon him - as if nothing at all is amiss. though loki has proven enough times that he almost always has a hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

"maybe i should join the avengers since thor is never on asgard anymore," he says, completely joking.

[home1ander]

as plotted w/ @talescfshadows for deadpool

Well, that was cause of reason for the gears in John's head to turn. While there was a switch off between his thought and motions, his eyes darted back and forth between Deadpool and the field of his own concerns. What's said sent him a few mental paces backward. Again in his head, his foot stepped on the breaks he breathed. As usual, Homelander's too transparent. He's too readable. As he'll have offered a hand shake between holding out his hand, there's reason while he would freeze. His hand dropped now while dismissing the effort he would've placed into that ideal of meet and greet. He doesn't mean to stare the mask man to judge--and even when he does it was more to do with his curiosity than it was ever to do with rudeness--at least first. He stared longer before speaking as though he just might've been trying to solve the most difficult puzzle that's yet to be solved. Even more that he was prompted to survey his surroundings, his head turned. As though there might have been another presence he wasn't aware of, he couldn't help but wonder. "I'm sorry, hold on. You're in...comics...Are you talking to..." He'd mouth the word 'how' as he's inaudible for that singular wording. "Let's just..get straight to the fucking point, okay? What are--who--are you even? You're odd. Insane." That's the pot calling the kettle black. Someone who tended to shoot lasers out of his eyes for just about any slight minor inconvenience.

[asgardianhammer]

new life

[ ϟ ]—– There is a quiet around him that he had not experienced for the past several days and nights.

Beneath his feet, stretching forward for as far as his gaze could follow, lay a vast expanse of dark red soil, earth - or so he hoped - that had been dampened by something. Hope burned brighter within the Asgardian that it had been rain, pattering down or showering the ground beneath him, and briefly golden head is raised towards the sky, his senses searching for something familiar in the air.

No petrichor could be noted, but there was certainly moisture, and a short-lived gust of air fluttering past his tresses, disappearing as quickly as it came.

Bending at the knees large, calloused hand reaches to grasp a handful of the earth, rolling the heap of it languidly, then, smelling it with a deep inhale.

It had potential, held promise and possibility that crops could be grown here, but it lacked the deep, rich scent that would convince him it was suitable.

Cautiously does he wander onward, towards the left where an outline of greenery lay spread out in erratic, uneven patters. Bushes with oddly shaped leaves stood still and were unmoving, producing no sound and looking entirely unfamiliar. Landscape shifting and transforming, behind the low growing flora trees coming into view.

That was a good sign; indeed, trees meant wood, which was needed to build, trees meant protection and cover, meant fire and hearth could prevail here.

And they were in desperate need of both.

For a moment he pauses then, not out of apprehension or fear to move onward in the now clearly visible forest, but to assess the size of it, searching for anything familiar.

An ash tree perhaps, or an oak...

Bitterness, born from familiar swirl of regret, pain, worry, rose up within his core like bile, and exhaling deeply he wonders if this strange world could ever, ever replace what was lost.

Thoughts threatening to emerge were dismissed with a firm shake of his head, now more than ever there was no time to dwell on losses and grief, to think on what was ripped from him and his people. Now he would need to move, one step before the other, tentatively between the trees, and hold true to his promise to find them a new home.

[d4rkpassengerz]

( @talescfshadows ) GETS A SMALL STARTER . ( Anthony )

COURT ROOMS are no oddity to a member of the Miami PD, but they still send a certain irritancy down the killer's spine. A subtle sort of benign discomfort at the EXPECTATION OF TRUTH. He won't be living up to it much today, no. The man standing for trial must be EXONERATED.

A life sentence, the common call, won't serve him right. He needs WORSE. He wants him on his TABLE.

Dexter extends a hand, blood report in front of him. It's perfect. No holes. All he has to do is PHRASE IT RIGHT.

"The spatter couldn't have been produced by someone of Mr. Brown's build. Not with a hacksaw, at least, which I'm sure my colleagues can all vouch was the decided murder weapon."

[templeofvengeance]

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[talesofkhaos]

@talescfshadows

Spencer had encountered many criminal masterminds before, but this one was different. The unsub's meticulous precision and the baffling lack of evidence left Spencer's mind racing, as he tried to piece together the clues hidden in the perfectly tied Windsor knot—a signature that taunted them with its simplicity. It was a challenge like no other, pushing him to the limits of his deductive abilities. The Windsor knot was more than just a fashion statement; it was a calculated move, revealing the unsub's attention to detail and perhaps a connection to a world of sophistication or high society. It suggested that the perpetrator was someone who moved comfortably in circles where appearance mattered, adding a layer of complexity to their profile. Spencer knew that deciphering this clue could unlock the key to understanding the unsub's identity and motives.Spencer delved into the history of the Windsor knot, tracing its origins back to the Duke of Windsor, who popularized it as a symbol of elegance and authority. He considered how the unsub might be using this knot not just as a disguise but as a statement, perhaps indicating a connection to aristocracy or a desire to project a façade of power. By examining the context in which the Windsor knot was used, Spencer hoped to uncover hidden layers of meaning that might reveal the unsub's true intentions and vulnerabilities.

Spencer had been using his new New York City apartment as the hub for this case, finding it both convenient and strategically positioned for his work. Having recently moved to the big city to be closer to his boyfriend, he appreciated the proximity to the bustling energy of Manhattan, which somehow fueled his investigative instincts. Despite the pressure of the case, Spencer felt a sense of comfort knowing that at the end of a long day, he could return to a space that felt like home. It was there in his apartment, surrounded by case files and the distant hum of the city, that Spencer found himself lost in thought. The Windsor knot's implications lingered in his mind, intertwining with his theories about the unsub's background and possible motives.

As he paced the room, Spencer's keen intellect worked tirelessly to connect the dots and unravel the enigma facing him. Startled, he paused mid-step, wondering who it could be at this hour. He hesitated for a moment, then crossed the room to open the door, revealing his boyfriend standing there. A wave of relief washed over Spencer as he saw Anthony standing there, a welcome surprise amidst the chaos of his current investigation. He had assumed Anthony would be tied up with his own case, making this unexpected visit all the more meaningful. Spencer's tension eased as he embraced Anthony, grateful for the comforting presence that reminded him there was more to life than the mysteries.

[endeavvor]

"Are you familiar with Hanlon's Razor?" Jim asks from where he's crouched down. He'd initially been thumbing through the dirt, but stumbled across what he was looking for. It's an arrowhead -- primitive, as what they expected when landing on this planet to attempt first contact. But still sharp.

He tests the weight of it in his palm, can feel the divots in the black stone, likely caused by other rocks while trying to make this pointed shape. Finally, the Captain tests the tip of it against the pad of his index finger, stopping just shy of breaking through calloused skin.

"It's a rule of thumb that suggests people should avoid attributing malice to human behavior when stupidity or incompetence is the more likely explanation." He'd learned it himself back in the academy in one of his diplomacy classes. It was taught by a rather haggard instructor who attempted to explain to command hopefuls why they were likely to lose more crew members during first contact missions.

The first thing you should understand about your humanity, she had said, is that you're all idiots. Needless to say, Jim had paid attention.

"The purpose of the idea is to help people think more clearly and rationally by minimizing assumptions and seeing others' motives in a positive light." He continues to explain to her. "

We shouldn't rush forward assuming this was an open act of hostility so much as an inability to articulate clearly."

@talescfshadows