❛ i've have enough of the universe, and it's people's mindless games ❜ any raised anger is not directed towards him. never him. helpless hands work over the exoskeleton of a blaster, which once belonged to her father and his before him. on and on, counting the memories she might lose, of a world that no longer exists. ❛ i'll never be the same. ❜ and the galaxy spins on uncaring, would twist her into dust and decay without a second thought. so she keeps an unfinished war between her teeth, a readiness notched between her ribs, an ache she couldn't scare away.
LYRICAL SC // @muutos ( garrus )
❝ you’re gonna lose a finger if you don’t get outta my sight right now. ❞ // frank @weaponid
of course, frank would show up like this. LIKE A THREAT, like a memory she hadn’t invited but couldn’t forget. gloria doesn't flinch, she never does. not for violence, not for men like frank, and certainly not for words spat like warning shots. but still, there’s a shift in posture, a tension strung too tightly in her spine, her jaw locked up. the man was smart enough, at least reading the tone far from idle in the promise of action. he walked off with a bruised ego and utterance of a half-assed apology in his wake. gloria doesn't watch him go; her eyes are on frank. ❛ fuck sakes, frank, you don't get to do that! ❜
her palm is firm, flat against his chest and pushing back on the immovable force. she'd gotten good jabs in before, but there was no need to cast a larger spotlight on them. and she presses into that rage humming inside him, steps in rhythm and away from prying eyes and forming bodies around the commotion. the part of herself that still aches for him wrestles with the anger towards that feeling. past bone and marrow, cutting into her dna and whatever the empty sky deemed sufficient for a soul. it all stirs beneath her ribcage, something that wants to remember instead of survive on scraps. ❛ you can't threaten everyone that breathes near me, you don't have that kind of privilege. ❜
I just wanted to make a bit of a tiny psa; in that, there’s many instances where, if I’m shipping with someone, I don’t want to write with or ship with duplicates ( pending ppl using the same fc for multiple characters cause all interpretations are different). I have no interest in writing with the same face claims over and over, it’s not authentic to my brain. Nor is it authentic to what I’m building, canons are different, yes but there can be major associations with how someone plays them. if we’ve discussed it, then I have no issue practicing exclusively, especially with face claim association. for example, I will only ever write with one frank castle and billy russo because I have no desire to write with any others based on dynamics built. Face claim wise, I will not write with any others based Oliver Jackson-cohen face claims or honestly Jensen ackles because they’re associated with characters from partners I like writing with. But if we don’t have any conversation about these things, I won’t know. I’ll still prioritize your character if I’m not writing with any other canons or ocs with their face but I’m not tied to exclusivity unless we talk about it. But this psa is also me saying NO I DO NOT EXPECT THE SAME MANNER OF THINKING FROM OTHERS. and again unless the conversation is there, it’s business as usual.
Did this make any sense cause I feel like an asshole trying to explain my brain and I know I should put the list in my pinned and carrd but anyways.
GOOD MORNING !!! Going to tidy up and finish organizing my house then get on my blogs to get things going cause spice is coming a day late friends. ALSO , welcome the newest member of my blog roll and latest mistake @enduredshe
need someone who’s violently possessive over me right now or i’m gonna die
her hand lingers on his chest longer than it should. like she’s not sure whether she’s holding him BACK or holding him UP. the heat beneath her palm is blistering, not from his rage, no...she’s felt that before, watched it shatter men like glass. it's something older, deeper — that relentless ache between them that never stops, only roots and blooms stronger than the last time. there's nothing made of coldness in her eyes, they never are with him and maybe that's part of why she's letting it all CRUSH her. they’re tired, though. tired in that bone-deep way that comes from years of standing just outside the life she maybe could’ve had by some shift of luck. but that's not made for people like her, rewards for unforgivable deeds. ❛ no... fuck, i don't know! ❜
and there it is. that band hitting the dim lighting just enough to coax every bit of guilt eating her from the inside out to the surface. gloria stares, choking down penance and letting the barbed wire cut into her throat. the worst part was that it never stopped her. not once. she pulls her hand back, cradling it like a third-degree burn against her chest. a step back, but it doesn't matter how far she goes, he'll always HAUNT her and she'll always let him. ❛ i don't know what to do, you're not mine. ❜ the fight in her voice is gone, and what's left is so much worse. a quiet devastation, worn thin at the edges. trembled in dewy honey eyes, her arms thrown up with a defeat she can't escape. she could imagine it as some surge of fading adrenaline, from de-escalating impending dread. from the even more fucked up part of her that wanted frank to pummel that handsy fuck into the dirt. but it's so much more than that. ❛ i don't do it to hurt you. ❜ almost a plea, entirely mournful. ❛ i have to remind myself that there's a world outside of you, frank, cause if i don't, i'll keep drowning in you. ❜
anger doesn't just simmer inside him, it boils over — violent, clawing at his chest like something alive. one minute he's nursing a drink with the squad, laughter buzzing around him. the next, he spots the brunette locked in some stranger's orbit, their bodies too close. he watches the guy's hand slide from her arm to the curve of her waist, and something in him snaps. now, he’s the center of gravity — surrounded by too many eyes, all waiting for the kind of show that starts with a punch and ends with smears of blood on the asphalt. it doesn't come to that, thanks to gloria.
palm pressed to his chest, he tears his gaze from the man walking away and leans back against the wall, shaking his head like it might clear the heat rising in his throat. the words are there, coiled tight, but they won’t come out — not when she’s looking at him like that, not with the weight of the ring on his finger. “ what do you mean i can't? what the hell do you want me to do, gloria? you want me to sit back and smile while he has his hands all over you?. ” right now, he wishes the other guy would've swung at him. it would've given him a reason to let the poison out, to crack his knuckles on his skull and stake his claim on her, somehow. “ why do you always gotta do that shit in front of me. ” the anger’s still there, but it’s dulled now — muted by something heavier. that quiet, bitter frustration he saves for himself. the kind he’s been carrying too long, the kind that keeps him up at night with the thought of her.
her hand doesn’t move. it stays there, over his chest, over the heat of a heart still BEATING, even if it feels like it’s barely holding on. her fingers curl a little, as though she could press through flesh and bone and cradle it in her palm with tenderness. ❛ what am i without my hypocrisy? ❜ her smile is world-weary, a life lived before she ever stepped foot into the emergency department. one she couldn't shake from her bones or broken soul. just the same, she couldn't shake off obligations, duty, her purpose in this world. ❛ i know we do, trust me on that — ❜ a pause to relinquish touch, if only to toy with the pocket of his hoodie. ❛ i'm just asking for a day. the details of which i will be forcing you to relax and in turn i will relax so it's mutually beneficial. ❜
tired eyes flick to the hand on his chest like it's an open wound. the warmth of it hurts and sears his skin, in the way that softness does when you're starving for it. he can't afford to vanish. too many people need him functioning, unflinching. to unravel is not an option, not even at the seams. “ have you ever thought about taking your own advice? ” he offers a small grin before shaking his head. “ people like us. we belong here. ” they couldn't walk away if they wanted to.
@weaponid
You should go.
This is a bad idea.
it’s not Sunday and idc cause the world needs to understand that you HAVE to dominate her or she will edge you within an inch of your life and fucking laugh about it and talk shit in your face about it.
A PEAK AT WHAT’S INSIDE THEIR . . .
[ * ] writing prompt ) : send a number 1 - 30 to take a closer look inside this characters life. / below you will find a series of various prompts offering a look inside a characters every day life. these are meant to invoke character development & can also be altered as seen fit to better suit the character in question. bonus if you explain why it’s there!
01. pockets. 02. bag / purse. 03. car trunk. 04. car glovebox. 05. closet. 06. bedside table drawer. 07. medicine cabinet. 08. wallet. 09. “junk” drawer. 10. pantry. 11. phone home screen. 12. frequently used emojis. 13. to do list. 14. computer home screen. 15. bookcase. 16. cd collection. 17. calendar for this month. 18. “secret” hiding spot. 19. five most recent in contact list. 20. refrigerator. 21. home safe. 22. amazon shopping cart. 23. bank account. 24. first aid kit. 25. five most recent in google search history. 26. most used playlist. 27. least used playlist. 28. five most recent sent text messages 29. five most recent received text messages 30. netflix watch history.