seen, not heard.

seen, not heard. [ independent oc ] [ selective ] [ nsfw ]

[mxtalen-deactivated20170801]

[ the strap that keeps the glasses firmly on 

  russell’s face is tucked snug behind his   ears before gibson lifts him onto his back.   he fits snugly there with his small size. he   treks to the onlooker and raises his brows. ]

"  somethin’ interest     you, pal? want us to     do a jig?  ”

[washreposerepeat]

    Oh shit. Okay, um. Just act natural, Lonnie.

    Continuing to stare is not natural, Lonnie.

    He doesn't answer, just frowns a bit more, tipping his head to glance at his skin, as if simply to reassure himself that his flesh is not, in fact, coated with diamonds -- or maybe even to check for shiny jewelry or something else that might have given the illusion of a precious gem. Forgive him, but he's not in the habit of ignoring the evidence of his own eyes.

[xerebrum-archive-deactivated201]

「☢」So he was being a bit of an ass…so what? Newt felt justified in his actions despite knowing the other man’s inability to speak. No one liked him when he came around, and Newt couldn’t help but be upset. Whenever he showed up, it was just another constant reminder that they were suffering. That their budget was running out and they had less time to study this threat. He was the one keeping everyone in line, but Newt didn’t want to be kept in line. No, he just wanted to finish his work.

Still, even Newt knows he shouldn’t keep the other guy waiting. Taking his attention off of the petri dish, he turns to Lonnie, sighing deeply as he noticed the paperwork in his hands. Ah great…my favorite thing…

Removing the gloves from his hands, he passes by him, making a motion to wait just one moment while he goes to wash up. “Lemme guess…is this a write up?” He calls from the sink, scrubbing up his hands as best he could. Newt had lost count over how many write-up’s he had received in the past. It was a wonder why they hadn’t fired him yet.

Then again, most of the write-up’s were from Hermann, and his complaints were usually very petty and went on ignored.

Drying off his hands, he takes the papers from him, glancing them over briefly before groaning audibly. “Do I gotta read all of this or is there one specific bit you need me to see and then sign?”

[washreposerepeat]

    Trust him, he's more than aware that he's not exactly welcome without the blatant reminder, but really -- people treat him like he's the Grim Reaper or something. Is it the whole 'not speaking' thing? Do they see him only as a bringer of bad news? Then again, he supposes they wouldn't exactly be mistaken; he does try to avoid coming around unless he absolutely can't anymore. This often means that things have become pretty drastic; and lately, he's been having to show his face more and more. They're running out of money, and they're running out of it quick -- the pressure's on him to stretch every penny that have as far as it will go, and while it's no neural load, it's a burden in and of its own right.

    So forgive him if he's more than a little tense, himself.

    In all honesty, he really doesn't have anything against the scientists; he respects them and what they do. Even admires them, in a way, for their expertise in their respective subjects -- but he's not exactly just a pencil pusher, himself. He didn't get this job by being some sub-par cubicle worker, and if he was afforded 1/10th of the respect he held for the other men, he'd really appreciate it.

    He won't even read the report -- no, no, okay, just. Keep calm, Lonnie.

    He'd known before coming down here that this was likely to be frustrating; even the other members of the 'team' found the biologist to be more than a little difficult at times. Some part of him had just been vainly hoping to find the other in a good mood, or -- something. Huffing out a little breath that might be a sigh, he shakes his head. Not a write-up, actually, for once -- it's not his job to deliver those; once again, he's not just an errand boy -- but a financial agreement. Just something agreeing to the new spending, which if the man would read the bits that Lonnie circles with a red pen he steals off one of the desks, state that he's given them a higher allowance.

    See, fact is, they're coming to a head on things, and he doesn't know how much longer they all have anyway; and while the cuts he had to make to get them the new spending cap were pretty drastic, they were gradual enough and spread out enough so as to avoid really hurting anything else. A few home comforts had to be done away with, the quality of the food is going to go down just a bit, and he, himself, is going to have to work some long hours and throw more than a little personal funding into the project, but if it will end all of this a little bit quicker -- well, he'll consider it an investment.

[faulty-flyer]

ωαѕняєρσѕєяєρєαт

[faulty-flyer]

[ he’s got a new cane on the way. the one he’s got at

  the moment is well-loved and well-worn. there’s a   groove along the handle from his thumb, where he’s   rubbed it in an idle habit. he thumbs the same spot   and lifts a brow at the other. he taps the end of his   cane against the bottom of the bench, brow raised. ]

"  oi, yeah, i’m talking     t’you. sane people’re     in bed right now. so—     you lost your mind, too?  ”

[washreposerepeat]

    Okay, well, that's one unvoiced question out of the way; so here's a harder one. Why is he speaking to him? It's not as if that's something strangers around here normally do. Why, they hardly tolerate each other, much less try to make friends. It has one corner of his mouth tilting a bit further down, as if skeptical of the other's sincerity. This strikes him oddly like a school dance -- wherein a popular group of people send someone over to talk to that shy kid so they can all laugh at how they squirm.

    Not that he's ever experienced anything like that, or would still be bitter about it even if he had.

    His eyes wander to the cane and his features soften some -- not in pity, but in recognition, understanding. Someone else who's not without a few chinks in the armor. Okay, well -- it's enough to earn a hesitant smile from him anyway, and a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders.

[michellekpoems]

I aim to be lionhearted, but my hands still shake and my voice isn’t quite loud enough.

Michelle K., Earning Your Roar. (via firemxtt)

[faulty-flyer]

you've been cryin' out for forever                                but forever's come and gone

robbie bird. retired. still kicking. 

_indie original character pertaining to no   particular fandom.

_no sexual nsfw.   mun is below age of consent.

_3+ years doing this thing.

_icons, icon .gifs

_i am the literal worst

➳ home ➳ ask ➳ bio

[m-lew]

[mxtalen-deactivated20170801]

gibson i. jakes

father           widower                           metal mutant

_indie x-men original character.

_working out of x-men: first class altered timeline.

_3+ years experience.

_icons, icon .gifs, occasionally .gifs.

_open to well-developed ocs, multicharacter blogs, canon, and alternate universe.

_no smut. mun is underage, muse is not.

_i have too many blogs. and i’m an asshole.  

] home  |   

] ask |

] bio |

[washreposerepeat]

"It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt."

[ x ] experience —— ten years; four on tumblr, intermittently.

[ x ] style —— mostly multi-para; all lengths welcomed, however.

[ x ] nsfw —— tagged appropriately; mun and muse are 21+.

[ x ] ships —— multi; exclusively shipped on chemistry.

[ x ] crossovers | au’s | oc’s —— welcome, adored, selectively accepting.

[ x ] skype —— available upon request.

» || lonnie randulf —— silence is g o l d e n.

    —— » mun is a gentleman of 21, and runs multiple blogs.

    as such, patience is appreciated. this blog is multi-fandom

    friendly, and some verses are already listed on the appropriate

    page.

[ home | ask | about | rules | verses ]

[xvacivity-archive-deactivated20]

Honestly—it’s not that she wants to be a drama queen, but why the fuck is it always her? She can’t even enjoy wait no a shitty meal without the universe (well, more recently just the PPDC, which in retrospect isn’t really far from the universe is it?) interrupting her or screwing her over. Lips curl in distaste as she stabs at—something. Really, shouldn’t she be able to identify this shit? And she always thought school lunches were bad.

Not that she ever had to endure school lunches—maman was good like that. But from what she heard from her school yard friends, the lunches were pretty fucking awful. Though, maybe not in those exact words. Okay, definitely not. Whatever the case, the point was that the PPDC had enough money to fly her relatively comfortably from Los Angeles to Hong Kong, the least they could do was scrape together some funds to, oh you know, feed their employees something that didn’t taste like dog food. Wait, no, that was an insult to dog food everywhere. Once again she’s reminded of why she takes up residence in the city and not the ‘Dome. She sure as shit can’t cook, but there were a few decent places within a reasonable walking distance from her apartment. She swears she’ll never mutter a bad word if her order doesn’t come out just right because it’ll be fucking ambrosia compared to this. Not to mention—

She feels his gaze before she takes the effort to turn her head towards the man. Brow is raised in question because why is he staring at me like that? Did she get some food on her face or is she suddenly that fascinating? Or—Jazmine grimaces and looks away because god damn it, he knows doesn’t he? That fucking woman—there was a reason she was sitting so far removed from everyone else and now—now she can’t even bother to hold her fork anymore and it falls to the tray with a dull rattle as she looks back again, brow raised not in question this time but in a challenge.                                                                          Ask it.                                                                      I dare you.

[washreposerepeat]

    For a long moment, he rather thinks he's being ignored, which, to be fair, is exactly what he deserves after doing nearly the exact same to her from the moment she settled beside him at this table. It's only after she turns her head to face him that he realizes he's missed something, something perhaps important -- her expression is nothing short of challenging, and he feels that she's expecting something of him that he doesn't know to give her. Instead, he merely raises his own brows, as if to ask what?

    As for himself, he's just mulling over how well she handled the confrontation with the other woman -- if there's one thing he absolutely can't abide, it's someone interrupting free time, even when that free time is spent poking at what can hardly be considered food. After a moment of eye contact, he finally shakes his head a bit, lips curving into a smile. Lowering his fork, he brings a hand up and begins moving his fingers and hand to ask a simple question.

    Do you sign?

    It's just, if he's going to speak to the woman, he'd prefer to do it this way rather than verbally -- especially in public. That he's making the effort at all says a lot; in the short time he's been around the woman, she's garnered enough respect from him to be not only acknowledged, but spoken to. He's not saying she should feel honored or anything, but it's certainly not a courtesy he extends to most people. Pretty much anyone else in LOCCENT can vouch for that on his behalf.

    If it were up to him, he wouldn't socialize with these people at all -- it's just easier that way. He's not one of them. Not a pilot, or a scientist. Not military-minded, not anything, really. He just runs numbers, and tries to keep them out of the red so everyone can go on doing what they do, and still have enough money to eat...even if the food isn't very good. In short, he just doesn't fit in -- but that's nothing new to him, and nothing risked, nothing gained. He might as well try to be agreeable for once in his life.

[clutchforbalancearchive-blog]

[darkinherheart]

Masquerade AU

Muse A and B don’t get along but both are required to attend an event (charity function/festival/party) where they have to wear a mask and are partnered with another for the evening. Dances, conversation; all lead to Muse A & B surprisingly enjoying themselves. Neither knows that their partner is the one they can’t stand until the end of the evening when the masks come off. What will happen next?

[xerebrum-archive-deactivated201]

「☢」Budget cuts, schmudget cuts. Newt knew one thing and one thing only. If they were going to even stand a chance at beating the Kaiju threat, they needed to continue studying them. All this talk of cutting down and rationing supplies seemed like an idiotic idea. How were they supposed to progress if they did that? It was practically idiotic. Newt knew sooner or later someone would notice his lack of obedience, so when he here’s someone approach, he lets a big exasperated sigh. 

"Come to reprimand me dude?" He asked without turning around, focused on opening up a petri-dish.

[washreposerepeat]

    Out of everyone in LOCCENT, Lonnie hasn't had this much trouble out of anyone excepting the K-Science Division. Now, don't get him wrong; he understands the importance of the scientists getting what they need -- but they need to understand that they simply don't have the money to continue indulging them. Other things have to be attended to, and while it's not exactly fun, it's only practical; if they don't manage their spending accordingly, it has to be cut from something else, and they're running out of things to cut for the sake of experiments that, as of yet, are yielding very little in the way of results.

    Something about the man's voice never fails to make Lonnie's teeth grind, though he does try to keep a patient look on his face; he tends to attempt to keep his interactions with the other mild-mannered. He's not exactly one of the 'team', he knows; nobody likes to see him come around, no one cheers for him balancing their funding and stretching cents to make sure everyone gets to eat and get what they need to do their jobs.

    That's fine. He doesn't want to be a hero. He just wants to be respected.

    Which is why his lips twitch into a frown when the man doesn't turn to face him -- while it isn't necessarily common knowledge to everyone that he doesn't speak, it's bad manners in general to not pay attention properly to someone you're speaking to. He moves around, carefully avoids the...whatever that is on the floor, and holds up the papers covered in numbers that he's brought to explain to the other just why he, of all people, has indeed come to reprimand him.

[faulty-flyer]

ωαѕняєρσѕєяєρєαт

[ it’s so quiet. granted, it’s early morning and   most people are still nestled in their beds   with visions of more sleep dancing in their   heads. not robbie. no, he’s limping his way to   the only bench in sight. which happens to be   occupied. he props himself up by the hip   against the side of the bench and looks down. ] 

"  lost your    mind, too,    eh?  ”

[washreposerepeat]

    It's not uncommon to find him out and about at ungodly hours in the morning. He can't remember the last time he properly just slept in. Something about the hush and grey light of an early morning just...suits him.

    What suits him a bit less is the sudden, unexpected company -- he endeavors not to look, despite the limp that drags in his peripherals; even shifts slightly away to make sure the other man has enough room, and sips quietly at his coffee, perfectly intended to ignore the other, and to casually leave in a few moments, when it's less obvious that he'd be doing so purely because of the newcomer.

    Instead, he finds himself turning his head slightly at the attempt at conversation, frowning uncertainly -- as if he can't quite be sure the other man is speaking to him, despite their present lack of other company.

[magerightsormagefights-blog]

Come play Cards Against Humanity with meeeee. The password’s ‘gcbc’.

[thegriefthatdoesnotspeak]

[ Something they had in common, then. Jayce had long since given up on any hope of his gaining some sort of learning experience from dealing with people - helping people - on a daily basis, but it had rather just proved to him how inept he was at it. Liking people. There were few, precious few, that he tolerated. If that could be considered remotely similar.

They had always said in medical school that a doctor’s life was guaranteed to be a rewarding, yet lonely one. Well, he was waiting for the rewarding to kick in any time soon, he wasn’t minding the lonely so much. ]

Ah—…’ta.

[ Not sure about this though. Felt a bit odd. ]

[washreposerepeat]

    The thanks earned him another quiet nod, and what passed for a polite smile. Truth is, Lonnie just isn't very good at this whole...social situation thing. He doesn't speak, and most people he came in contact with didn't sign, which was his preferred method of getting his point across if silence failed him. Most people just got uncomfortable and left.

    Turning his eyes briefly away from the stranger, he takes a moment to simply look out the small window at the street -- the people passing by outside, the careless way they went about their days. He doesn't actually care to look at them right now, which leaves him only with the option of paying attention to the man now sharing his table.

    After an awkward moment of silence, he frowns softly and lifts his hands from his coffee, only half-heartedly signing at the other -- he doesn't have much hope of getting a response, but if he's going to try this whole...conversation thing, he might as well see if the other man knows ASL.

    Do you sign?

[washreposerepeat]

    Someone's in serious trouble if the financial adviser himself had to come down to handle things, because he doesn't actually very much enjoy making personal visits, but someone hasn't been paying attention to budget cuts.

[mxtalen-deactivated20170801]

[ well, he’s gonna mind anyway. the diamond

  that’s protecting his skin from his son’s   potentially dangerous eyes melts away and   he purses his lips. he dares the other to   comment, slipping russell’s sunglasses back   on. ]

[washreposerepeat]

    He's probably just imagining things. Too many reports to get done, too many deadlines that had to be met just last night, not enough sleep. He hasn't been properly taking care of himself.

    What he's getting at is that he most certainly probably didn't just see that guy's skin covered in diamond.

    Definitely not.

    But that doesn't stop him from continuing to stare, brows lightly knitted.

[washreposerepeat]

    Don't mind him staring. He's just not used to, er...that.