#weaknessforgallantry

[visixnaryx-archive]

@weaknessforgallantry || closed starter (fallout verse)

Most of the Commonwealth's roads were treacherous. Of course they were. They were not treacherous based only on how open they were--leaving it too easy for someone to aim at the back of your head and pick you off--but the general state of the ground beneath your feet. It wasn't advisable to go stumbling along them after too many shots of 200 year vodka or at night--especially at night. But the Railroad operated best at night, where anxious bodies could be guided from safehouse to safehouse, and it was better for Vizh, whose nature--with the appearance of plastic and glowing yellow eyes--would be all too obvious from a mile away. He was determined to do his part, and he would scout no matter what, even if it involved traveling down broken roads in the pitch darkness. Somehow the wildlife seemed safer than chance encounters with people angry at a synth's existence.

It helped that he could see a little better in the dark--but he was often struck with the thought that the Commonwealth must have been quite the sight at night, with the city and suburban lights glittering in every direction. It would have made his travel easier, and would have given him more than shadowy shapes everywhere he looked. Aside from the moon and the stars, the only suggestion of light laid in the distance: the sickly, green glow up in the hills and the faint spotlight that was Diamond City, quite the literal jewel in the roughness of the wasteland. It blinked in and out of his view, looming shadows the only indication of structures he passed by.

It was easy to spot even the smallest of campfires from a distance; they were beacons in the darkness and could be potentially dangerous for those seeking out their warmth. Thought Vizh would have appreciated the light, he was cautious. There were few places he could hide, and all he was provided with was the cover of a collection of trees on slight incline. The light originated within the meager skeleton of what was once a home, and the shadows that bounced across the surrounding land suggested more numbers than he could handle, if there were to be any confrontation (and being a synth, confrontation was always common). Closer inspection revealed that this had been a settlement, with a single makeshift cabin and thin posts where crops had once had been grown. It had likely been abandoned.

He could have chosen to take a different road. It would have been wise: the group currently standing around the fire were quite clearly Brotherhood members, and that would prove fatal. But there seemed to be an outsider, with his back pressed against the tree, seemingly injured and not at all on friendly terms with the others. It was in Vizh's nature to help. He was certain his pistol could do very little against power armor, but the least he could do was provide a distraction and allow the man to escape. The synth took careful aim and soon enough, bullets sparked against metal, calling the attention of the Knights as he sprinted towards them, his thick coat left somewhere on the dry grass behind him, to better reveal his nature and hopefully draw their malice towards himself.

[hittcr-a]

@weaknessforgallantry

        eliot had heard a lot about remy, even before he started looking for him. most of the people he’d worked with had something to say, all of it bad. he was sort of a legend, at least to eliot. he hadn’t seen him, he hadn’t ever really encountered him. not in person anyway. it was all in passing. the hatred and disrespect surrounding the thief was damn near comical.             or it had been. until he was hired to track him down and get something back. his employer hadn’t been clear on why he needed it, but it seemed important enough to hire someone like eliot to get it. no doubt they expected him to kill remy if it came down to it, something he was prepared to do. hell, he was willing to do it if it got him that paycheck.             hell, maybe it would even be a good thing. this guy was sort of a menace, as far as eliot was concerned. he wouldn’t be staying in new orleans forever, but if he cleaned up the streets a little...             remy wasn’t hard to track down. it was almost way too easy, really. eliot was grateful for that. he could get the stuff back and get paid before this job started to drag.             it was darker, musty. eliot hadn’t been to this part of the city before, but he had it on good authority that this is where remy hung around, especially after a score. which is why eliot chose to look here first. and it was a damn good thing that he did.             what he hadn’t expected, however, was that when he laid eyes on remy, that he would be a child. the things he’d heard painted him a picture of a man. a thin and sly man, maybe, someone who could fit places and steal things with ease. but this was a kid. eliot couldn’t help his brow furrowing, even as the tension in his shoulders and the defensive stance refused to ease. “remy?” because it was best to be sure before plunging into any kind of... well. he wasn’t going to fight a kid. 

[longsilvcr]

xx // @weaknessforgallantry

John felt as if his skull had been split open. There was a bit of movement on the bed, which he assumed was whoever he had hooked up with the night before. Eyes still closed, he scrunched his nose as he arched his back in an attempt to stretch. One eye partially opened when the person spoke to him, but he could make out nothing but a vague, fuzzy shape.

“No brekkie for me,” he slurred once the words had processed. John didn’t think his stomach would be able to handle anything for the next couple of hours. He didn’t even remember last night, much less whoever this man was. “Just coffee. Flat white.” He wasn’t sure if he was offering to take his order, but the words slipped out. “Please,” he added, just to be safe.

When he gained enough strength to open his eyes, he blinked slowly at the man in an attempt to clear his vision. He hadn’t been expecting to see red on black eyes, which gave him pause. The rest of the man, however, was delicious. Smirk curling the corners of his lips, John gave him what might have been considered a sultry look. Blue eyes danced over his form, definitely appreciating the view. “Good mornin’.”

[thedarcydichotomy]

@weaknessforgallantry

She didn’t know where the cookies had come from. They were just there one day, sitting innocuously on a plate in the common kitchen, surrounded by superheroes helping themselves. By the time she gets close enough to grab one it’s the last, but she was just happy to score anything - getting your hands on treats in that kitchen was a feat unto itself.

She changed her mind half a minute later. Not because the cookie was bad. The exact opposite. It was chewy and luscious, something complex to the flavour that elevated it beyond any cookie she’d experienced before. 

Even her own. And she thought she made pretty damn good cookies.

Nobody was willing to fess up to where the cookies came from, not even Jarvis - he politely declined as it could be a breach of privacy, and Darcy wasn’t high enough on the food-chain to toss out any overrides and get the information she wanted. She’d just about given up on ever finding the baker and getting the secret to their cookies when, several weeks later, she stepped out of the elevator and the first thing to hit her nose was the same buttery sweet goodness. 

The second thing was a person’s scent. She’d smelt it before, on the same day as the cookies appeared, but an individuals scent could come and go even from the upper levels of the tower without being worth note. This scent now though, it was definitely worth note.

Following her nose, she found him with a plate in his hands, another serving of those glorious cookies about to be set down.

“You!” She cried, pointing a dramatic finger at him as she approached. “Cookie man! I wanna talk to you. Where’d you get the cookies? Did you make them?” She paused and ran a critical eye over him before giving a sniff. “You don’t look like a baker.” Not that she was judgmental of people’s appearances in relation to their hobbies, but it sounded distinctly less creepy than saying he didn’t smell like a baker.

[hraunwyf-a]

@weaknessforgallantry​

Despite everything, Loki was glad that she lived in the shop, and didn't bother with paying for an apartment separately—it meant that the fire extinguisher, the best non-precious heavy object she had, was close at hand, and that the real panic was short-lived. Of course, it helped that the burglar likely had no clue that she lived there, and wasn't ready for the five-foot-three woman in an old, raggedy sundress that served as a nightgown to come out of nowhere and swing the fire extinguisher at his head as hard as she possibly could.

He'd been knocked out cold, and she'd started crying, more from shock than anything else. It took a while for her to realize that her front door was off its hinges and the night wind was sweeping in, and the alarm had started going off. She didn't really hear it. It was the last thing she expected, for someone to try and break into her store—she could feel the energy rushing around her in a panic, all startled and shaken.  Several of the crystals on her display had even been knocked over, a couple of the more delicate pieces cracked.

She knelt by them, by the unconscious burglar, and stared. Maybe there was a sign in this, maybe she'd done something wrong, because even if nothing was really damaged and she hadn't been hurt, she'd never been so frightened in her life. The shop was her home and her livelihood and everything precious to her, all she had in the world, and it had been in danger.

Loki tried desperately to read some meaning in the haphazard assortment of stones, the way she might if it were a runecasting, but there was no sense. Even when her landlord came running, that would be exactly how he found her—on the floor with tears quietly streaking down her face, shoulders shaking, staring blankly down at her broken products.

[simvlacrum-archive-blog]

♛ whcwashe

↳ You’re okay I GUESS // @weaknessforgallantry for @whcwashe // accepting

my opinion on;

character in general:  Okay not gunna lie, but I don’t know much about Liv because I’ve never seen the Constantine TV show, but apparently she only shows up in the pilot which makes me SAD?? Because she seems like such a nice character 10/10 would continue having her show up ):how they play them:  CONSIDERING THE ABOVE, they do such a good job giving me an idea of what Liv is like?? I feel like I know her just through their writing and I absolutely LOVE that!!the mun:  uh i keep calling u they and i don’t know ur name i am so sorry BUT U HAVE BEEN V NICE I LOVE U

do i;

follow them:  I SURE DO MANrp with them:  We do 8DD Not very much just yet but I hope that changeswant to rp with them:  YASship their character with mine:  Uhhhhhhh idk?? I’m not sure how to answer this question lmao

what is my;

overall opinion:  PLEASE GO LOVE THIS BLOG

[seelieisms]

“What you must remember,” said Thad, “is while possession is nine-tenths of the law it means nothing in the case of a proper spell.”

At that moment the brass bells that hung on a copper nail (which was wedged firmly in the oak wood door just above the glass pane that filled out MOST of the entire thing) sang a jaunty sort of tune it often did when someone was entering Curious Curiosities.

Or when they were leaving, which was actually the case given that when the owner of said shop turned on his heels it was just in time to catch the flutter of a silk, wrap skirt slipping out the closing door. The song of the bells seemed less jaunty suddenly.

“Oh. Well, anyway. What was I saying? Yes! Possession can mean nothing and that’s frightening, really.”

One would assume that the departure of a customer with nothing in hand meant perhaps there was nothing that interested them, currently anyway. That, perhaps they were only aiming to browse and think more on the nature of their next purchase as some often do when trying to be sensible about their shopping habits and mindful of frugality. But you would be terribly wrong because the reason was as simple as this:

Thad had been, and was currently, talking to thin air. For nearly half an hour now after having a brief phone call with one Miss Liv Aberdine, the current resident of his heart, he chatted amiably with absolutely NOTHING (presumably). You might, then, think perhaps love did funny things to men and made them fools that spoke to thin air after getting off the phone with a sweetheart and perhaps sometimes that was true but in this case it’s not at all the case either.

And that poor thing, that little witch so new to this world of magic and wonder, was exposed to something far stranger than a spell or a book of magic. She was exposed to a man who didn’t stop to explain that he was merely speaking out loud to the unseen guest that might be lurking there that very moment, needing something to remain entertained.

Had he only thought to say, “oh, hello, don’t mind me I’m only explaining basic spell crafting with a new friend!” she might have stayed and bought her first set of tarot cards.

Ah, well.

“Now if you’re only JUST showing up you needn’t feel shy. If you’d like to remain invisible you are more than welcome but should you wish to make yourself seen I might know whether or not you are paying attention, you see.”

He paused, just for a moment. It was really a case of a cat in a box, wasn’t it? Perhaps Liv’s new friend was there. Perhaps not. Either way, Thad spoke as if he was because he really couldn’t tell.

[psylccke]

@weaknessforgallantry wanted a starter

      It was admittedly a very tiring life at the moment: she was juggling between two teams.  Of course there was one very blue and metal winged reason why she kept returning to the other, that much should have been obvious to anyone that had known her in the least over the past decade.  However, she felt more at home here with Storm and her team -- even if some of them watched her like she was a snake prepared to strike at any given moment.

       There were some benefits to it, such as seeing old friends for the first time in far, far too long.  Remy was certainly included in them.  She had hardly seen him, well, since before she died the last time and that had been ages ago.  Granted, she was stoic and reserved around many but he was an exception to the rule.  She carefully set down her cup of tea on an end table before all but sprinting the distance between them to catch him in a vice grip of a hug.  

       “Mon petit chou chou,” she crooned.