#wcrldliar

[alyafae-a]

she doesn’t recall the last time they’ve sat together like this. sure, they are amidst another life-threatening situation but when has that ever not been the case? she likes it though, having her around, someone familiar, it almost makes her feel nostalgic even though it is not something she does. nostalgia is for other people. still, it is thoughts of the past that determine her mood on this day. unwilling to meet the other’s gaze, melinda just stares into the void in front of her.    “i hated you, you know. just for a day. a single day.”    melinda isn’t known for saying nice things, nor talking a lot to begin with. but this is something she needs to get off her chest. a piece of the past she wants to let go now.    “i hated you because you told me that phil had died.”    remembering that day is nothing she likes to do, not when she can easily pretend it didn’t happen – he is still around, breathing, living, although death still follows him. 

back then, she hasn’t been ready for it; melinda has always thought she would be the first one of them to die but phil simply had to beat her to it. it has been kind of maria to be the one to tell her and it didn’t take her long to realize it. a day.    “should have been glad it was  you, but it was easier to hate you in that moment. it wasn’t fair.”    whether she is referring to the whole incident or just her feelings towards maria isn’t clear. it doesn’t really matter when it’s pretty much the same thing. it’s the past and she lets go of it.     /     @wcrldliar​ .   ( maria &. melinda )

[boogeykill]

he’s  become  something  feral  yet  again ,     not  belonging  anywhere  and  hunted  by  everyone .       except     -----       contrary  to  younger  days  when  fingers  were  still  locked  in  obedient  prayer  and  he  pulled  the  trigger  only  with  a  tug  on  his  leash     -----     he  no  longer  hunts ,       but  kills  to  survive  instead .       and  unsuppressed  will  makes  blood  hound  become  wolf  so  much  more  dangerous .       and  even  though  entire  body  still  shakes  with  the  slightest  of  efforts ,       even  though  every  fiber  of  him  hurts  from  his  fall  from  the  rooftop  of  the  continental       [  BETRAYED  BY  AN  OLD  FRIEND  !  ]       he  still  has  managed  to  best  two  assassins  coming  after  him  in  the  dim  light  of  the  alleyway ,       dropping  bodies  to  the  concrete  along  with  the  empty  pistol  snatched  from  one  man’s  grasp .       he  exhales ,       about  to  gather  himself  and  walk  along  when  he  catches  a  spectator  from  the  corner  of  his  eye .

passers  -  by  don’t  usually  look ,     too  scared  of  getting  caught  in  the  deadly  affairs  of  the  underground .       afraid  that  if  they  stare  into  the  abyss ,   something  will  reach  out  and  pull  them  with  it .       a  smart  choice ,       usually .       but  she  seems  neither  bothered  nor  ignorant .       is  she  one  of  them  ?       now  aware  of  his  state  as  well ,       come  to  ensure  his  actual  demise  and  claim  an  outdated  bounty  ?       uncertainty  lingers  within  dark  gaze ,      bloodshot  eye  twitching  with  the  strain  of  holding  the  woman’s  stare .

@wcrldliar​​​​      [   sc .   ]

[arrowloosed]

@wcrldliar​ / s.c. 

“This could all be a clever ploy to kiss me. I wouldn’t complain.” 

[rejectory]

[ coat ] your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on . (reverse ig???? cuz............ that aou jacket u know Which Jacket)

If nothing, Thor is a generous pourer. And what he’s giving is as far from nothing as you please. Stuff’s remarkable. It fills Steve’s arms with the lethargy of swamp waters, turns up his decibels, smears his grin closer to his ear.

It’s also, to Stark’s delight, the needle in a haystack bingo that makes Steve’s bullshit tolerance go elastic. What Stark (willfully) ignores is that it’s gonna snap back once he’s run the full yard with it in his teeth.

( Nat, he notes, is with Hill at the blackhole rectangle of the open balcony that eats chains of people and spits them out fragmented and trying to conserve body heat. They’re not facing each other but stand with elbows knocking. Their mouths move, conspiratorial.

Hill’s bare forearms are exed a little too tight over her ribs. )

He knows that. Stark knows it. The popcorn-shoveling Rhodey—and we’re talking by the fistfuls here—for sure is on to something. Stark inhales his E’s and traps them in his head voice, chewing his mustard chips so in view they nearly headbutt when Steve, to no effect, licks the cognac truffle cocoa off his thumb and segues away from the bar to wait out his snapping turn as far as possible.

As he does, he hooks a finger into the collar of his jacket. Sleeves fanning, it pelts over his shoulder. Because he’s got two hands, his other one takes responsibility for that glass of mead—which Nat relieves him of soon as the balcony breeze hits him fresh as menthol.

It’s like that, huh.

— And Hill looks at him. Hill looks at the answer to her goosebumps he’s holding out like a tailor. He half-expects her to wryly pretend she can’t see, or be above self-aware chivalry. When she slides an arm into the butter inside of his sleeve, Steve learns something new.  

[prcsopamoved]

❛      when  you  eliminate  all  the  other  possibilities    ,    you  cannot  escape  the  truth  that  remains        ❜

@wcrldliar  ❤ ‘d for may

[diffcall]

@wcrldliar

“you know,” clint starts slowly - is this a beginning of a lesson? hope for the best, prepare for the worst. “by all technicalities and fancy titles you’re my boss but you certainly don’t feel that way.”

                            maria hill is, by the far, one of the easiest people to share companionship with. she’s tough and strict but not unkind. if you’re listening for it. clint’s met a bunch of unkind folk.

      maria does not fit that bill, and clint never abides by the rules of conduct.

[cxptisgone]

People you should be following if you’re not already:

@isjustice

@shellheadtm

@outlawiism

@informaticn

@hopegained

@wcrldliar

fymarveluniverse

@getinthefunvee

@dapperfvck

[choicelesshope-aa]

@wcrldliar​ || continued from here.

She never got used to the logic behind talking to others, and that little had to do with the events of the latter half of her life. Always the quiet kid in the room, the baby that hardly ever cried; the wide-eyes creature that stuck to dolls and books while Pietro went around yelling, running and making it hell for anyone trying to follow his steps, especially mom and dad. And it… somehow— always felt right to her. Meant to be, an agreement that neither of them ever spoke about and yet it always was deeply rooted in their behaviors. He handled people; smile, waved, talk them out of trouble and she watched, planned; got ahead of the obstacles and told him exactly what to do.

But Pietro wasn’t around any longer, and his absence was louder to her in moments like this, where his better, brighter half wasn’t around to make her smile like he always did. 

It’s not something she plans to tell her, although it is the answer to the question she just aimed in her direction. Why a lesson? Because she needs it, now, not like before. Because she likes training but doesn’t what to do when practice hours are over. The agent wouldn’t care nor does she have a reason to concern about her affairs, she is not her mother or sibling or friend, and hardly does she remembers being in the same room as her before this day. But she looks strong, unbreakable. Bulletproof in a way she has never been, and in secret, Wanda wishes she could become a little bit like that. A little bit like… her.

“Everyone seems to do a lot of that here. Talking.” She resolves to answer in the end, briefly yet maybe a little ashamed to have interrupted her in such a way. Her hands and her attention going next to the cup she was about to prepare and she doesn’t think much while picking one of the many tea bags from the counter; not rushingly, but seemingly decided to do her own thing and go back to the room she had been assigned to. Yet, she doesn’t come to finish that task. Not for now at least, since another idea seemed to have crossed the mind of the Scarlet Witch. She stops, gives her a quick glance before she can notice, and takes another cup from the shelf that she ends up offering to her.

And perhaps she is not great with words. Perhaps the person she asked for help wasn’t one for long chats and embellished pep-talks either, but when she makes the silent question to Maria Hill in case she might want something to drink or eat before she is done with her visit, she looks like she is alright with this silence if she is with it as well..