› ☽ 𝐉𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 ／ Threads - Blog Posts

lila  startles  at  the  sound  of  ava's  voice,  her  eyes  lifting  from  the  rippling  surface  of  the  pond  to  meet  the  girl  she  hasn't  properly  spoken  to  since  before  everything  unraveled.  her  posture  stiffens  instinctively,  but  there's  no  edge  in  her  voice  when  she  speaks  –  just  a  quiet  sort  of  guilt  that's  lingered  ever  since  lizzie's  name  became  something  they  don't  say  out  loud  anymore.  “ava,  wait,”  lila  says,  rising  slowly  from  the  bench.  the  soft  morning  light  catches  on  the  tired  lines  under  her  eyes,  evidence  she  hasn't  been  sleeping  much  either.  “you  don't  have  to  go.  it's  a  public  bench.  you  probably  have  more  of  a  claim  to  it  than  i  do.”  she  swallows,  the  words  tasting  heavier  than  she  wants  them  to.  “i  didn't  know  you  came  out  here.  not  until  after.”  a  beat.  “i'm  not  here  to  start  anything,  i  swear.  i  just…  couldn't  sleep  either.”  there's  a  pause,  where  she  glances  down  at  her  hands  like  she's  bracing  herself.  “i  never  got  to  say  i'm  sorry.  not  just  for  what  happened.  for  –  everything.  for  what  i  did.  for  what  i  let  happen.”  her  voice  cracks  slightly,  but  she  forces  a  soft  breath  out  and  looks  up  again.  “you  don't  owe  me  anything,  ava.  i  just…  i'm  sorry.”

status : — closed for @xfwildflower

location : — the reflection pond

Dawn  has  only  just  begun  to  crack  the  night  sky  open  when  Ava  makes  her  way  to  her  favourite  bench  at  the  reflection  pond.  Another  night  of  staring  at  the  ceiling  with  a  whirring  brain  has  led  her  here  -  if  she’s  plagued  to  be  an  insomniac  for  the  rest  of  her  college  days,  she  may  as  well  make  it  scenic.  Everything  feels  different  in  the  dull  glow  of  the  rising  morning  -  softer  somehow  in  the quiet  hours  before  the  rest  of  the  campus  wakes  up.  A  serenity  the  brunette  is  actually  looking  forward  to  bathing  in  when  she  rounds  the  small bend  of  shrubs  and  finds  someone  already  there.  “ Oh, ”  Ava  murmurs  quietly,  halting  her  stride.  The  night’s  weariness  seems  to  catch  up  to  her  in  that  moment  when  she  recognises  the  frame,  and  with  it  all  the  uncomfortable  messes  Lizzie  had  made  with  them.  “ I  didn’t  think  anyone  else  would  be  out  this  early,  sorry.  I’ll  go. ”

lila  looked  down  at  the  flyer  like  it  might  bite  her.  it  had  stopped  right  against  her  sandal,  edges  crumpled,  half-smeared  ink  still  catching  in  the  light.  her  brows  lifted  as  she  reached  to  pick  it  up,  fingers  brushing  paper  that  still  radiated  heat  from  november's  fury.  of  course  it  was  her.  no  one  else  moved  like  a  weapon.  “hey  nova,”  lila  said,  voice  warm  but  careful,  like  she  was  approaching  a  spooked  animal.  her  grip  tightened  slightly.  “you  know,  one  day  you're  gonna  throw  something  and  actually  start  a  fire.”  she  glanced  up,  studying  the  way  november's  jaw  set  like  a  trap.  it  made  lila  ache  a  little,  in  the  soft  spot  that  she  always  reserved  for  people  who  held  in  too  much.  “you  okay?”  she  asked,  gently,  but  she  didn't  wait  for  an  answer.  she  offered  the  paper  out  like  a  peace  offering.  “here.  i  won't  read  it  if  you  don't  want  me  to,”  she  mused  with  a  small,  crooked  smile.  “but  if  you're  starting  a  collection,  i  can  help.  i've  got  like,  five  in  my  backpack  already.”  she  tilted  her  head.  “we  could  make  a  collage.  or…  set  them  on  fire.  your  call.” 

who?  open,  capped  at  0/3. where?  the  montclair  quad.

the  anonymous  campus  menace  must  think  they're  real  clever,  and  as  a  woman  who  much  prefers  to  keep  her  own  life  personal,  november  finds  their  larking  particularly  irritating.  her  already  barely-concealed  rage  simmers  every  time  she  walks  past  those  goddamn  flyers.  they're  everywhere,  and  she's  already  seen  a  few  this  morning.  day  ruined.  the  next  one  she  spots  quickly  becomes  the  target  of  her  fury—it's  taped  to  a  lamp  post,  and  she  tears  it  down  without  breaking  her  stride,  crumples  it  in  her  fist  without  bothering  to  read  past  the  first  line.  the  quad  itself  is  deceptively  peaceful,  and  the  brunette  marches  straight  through  it,  a  storm  cloud  veering  towards  the  nearest  trash  can,  the  paper  remains  still  clutched  in  hand.  hand  winds  up  like  she's  about  to  throw  it  hard;  nova  narrows  her  gaze  like  she's  lining  up  the  shot.  the  balled-up  flyer  arcs  wide,  hits  the  pavement,  rolls  for  one,  two,  three  seconds  .  .  .  and  hits  someone's  foot.  "fuck,"  she  hisses  under  her  breath  before  stalking  a  few  paces  closer,  voice  louder  this  time.  "sorry.  bad  aim."  a  tilt  of  her  head  at  the  paper,  then:  "well?  you  gonna  toss  it  out,  or  hand  it  over  so  i  can?"

escaping  one  skirmish  after  another  with  a  few  short  murmurs  and  flicks  of  acacia,  athena  haunted  the  halls  of  malfoy  manor  as  if  she  were  its  keeper,  prohibiting  those  she  encountered  from  seeing  any  more  of  its  hallowed  halls.  after  the  masks  had  fallen  away  to  expose  a  truth  that  many  had  predicted  but  still  could  not  believe,  she  had  made  quick  work  of  getting  her  sister  to  the  closest  fireplace,  a  flurry  of  ebony  movement  as  she  sent  her  off  with  a  clear  message  for  orpheus,  knowing  it  was  only  a  matter  of  moments  before  the  estate  would  be  sealed  off  for  the  night.  it  was  only  after  she  was  sure  the  tenderhearted  lamb  of  the  family  had  evacuated,  that  she  began  what  was  to  be  the  beginning  of  a  long,  cruel  night.  flashes  of  light  flickered  throughout  shadowy  halls  as  she  dove  deeper  into  its  depth,  dark  curses  escaping  her  lips  with  a  practiced  ease  as  her  attention  sharpened  onto  oncoming  steps.  stepping  around  the  corner  with  her  wand  drawn  and  poised  to  strike,  the  hex  that  had  been  about  to  escape  her  lips  died  short  as  she  registered  who  it  was  before  her.  green  hues  honed  in  on  james,  drinking  in  his  presence  as  if  it  were  a  beacon  signaling  the  arrival  of  spring,  freeing  her  from  the  frozen  state  she  often  kept  herself  captive  in.  the  urgency  he  radiated  only  amplified  the  twin storms  she  saw  reflected  in  his  eyes,  providing  a  moment  of  reciprocated  frenzy  she  hadn't  known  she'd  craved  until  its  arrival.  “  james,  ”  she  murmured  back,  eyes  quickly  catching  his  movement  but  doing  nothing  more  than  raise  an  eyebrow,  wand  still  at  the  ready  despite  the  growing  curiosity  to  see  how  this  played  out.  “  never  thought  i'd  chance  upon  you  in  the  middle  of  a  snake  pit,  ”  she  mused,  taking  the  time  to  fully  take  him  in  as  she  spoke,  a  smirk  growing  on  her  face  as  her  gaze  watched  his  own.  “  you  know,  i  haven't  quite decided  yet.  ”  she  spoke  with  honesty,  her  tone  borderline  teasing  despite  her  hesitancy  to  make  a  move  in  a  game  whose  rules  she  still  wasn't  sure  of.  she  hasn't  been  blind  to  the  budding  tension  between  the  two  of  them,  familiar  with  watching  others  get  caught  up  and  giving  into  temptation,  often  times  without  the  realization  that  they  weren't  the  only  pawn  chancing  upon  a  king  on  the  board.  “  but  that's  rich  coming  from  someone  who  probably  disobeyed  a  few  by  coming  here.  ” a  determination  still  radiated  off  him  as  she  took  him  in,  familiar  in  its  echo  of  past  encounters  but  with  a  ruthlessness  that  differed  from  times  previous.  flickering  her  gaze  to  the  set  of  his  jaw,  she  contemplated  her  options,  knowing  that  her  night  held  nothing  beyond  bodies  to  use  for  target  practice  whilst  james  had  the  stance  of  a  man  on  a  mission.  his  open  body  language  told  her  all  she  needed  to  know  that  he  would  be  hindered  by  nothing,  a  concept  she  would  normally  hold  in  high  regard  if  not  for  who  it  concerned  rescuing.  “  something  tells  me  you're  especially  motivated  tonight.  ”  her  words  were  her  only  warning  before  she  struck,  taking  advantage  of  his  lowered  guard  with  a  whispered  disarming  spell.  “  unfortunately  for  you,  i'm  in  the  mood  to  play,  ”  she  hummed,  a  sly  gleam  in  her  eye  before  firing  a  few  rapid  hexes,  backing  away  as  she  did  so.

the   dimly   lit   corridors   of   malfoy   manor   twisted   and   turned   like   the   labyrinthine   paths   of   his   own   thoughts,       heavy   air   laden   with   the   distant   cacophony   of   a   battle   not   far   detached.    he   moved   through   the   shadows   with   his   wand   clutched   tight   in   his   palm,       careful   not   to   be   seen   as   he   navigated   through   the   maze-like   structure,       his   every   sense   honed   to   a   razor's   edge.       the   ambush   was   a   calculated   risk,       it   seemed,       but   one   that   carried   the   weight   of   necessity       :       he   wasn't   the   only   one   who   lost   family   when   many   of   the   order   were   taken   as   hostages.       the   whole   order   took   a   blow,       and,    depiste   his   promises   to   his   younger   brother,       he   was   not   going   to   leave   until   he   at   least   freed   a   fair   few   of   them.     rounding   a   corner,       he   nearly   collided   with   a   figure   emerging   from   the   gloom.       his   wand   snapped   up,       poised   to   strike,       but   he   froze   as   recognition   pierced   through   the   haze   of   urgency.        @doctrinxire   stood   before   him,       her   presence   a   startling   contradiction        …       one   that   seemed   to   have   come   in   the   most   innportune   of   times       —       right   in   the   heart   of   enemy   territory.  flickering   torchlight   danced   across   athena's   features,       casting   sharp   shadows   and   soft   highlights   that   accentuated   a   fierce   determination   he's   grown   to   know,       basking   within   the   depths   of   familiar   eyes.       those   eyes,       he   found   himself   musing,       were   not   dissimilar   to   windows   open   to   a   storm       :       one   quite   mimicking   his   own.       "       …     athena,       "       james   breathed   out,        surprising   even   himself   when   he   lowered   his   wand   slightly,       though   not   enough   to   fully   disarm   himself.       trust   was   a   luxury   neither   could   afford.       tension   that   had   simmered   between   them   now   was   undeniable       ….    crackled   in   the   air,       electric,       and   palpable.       "     fancy   meeting   you   here,       "        his   tone   in   between   keen   amusement   in   the   midst   of   a   heated   battle,       and   genuine   surprise.        "       should   have   known   you'd   be   right   in   the   thick   of   it,       “       his   gaze   flickered   over   the   other,       taking   in   every   detail       —       the   set   of   her   jaw,       the   fire   in   her   eyes,       the   way   she   held   herself   with   a   defiant   grace.       ”       what’s   your   play   here       ?       "        james   raised   a   brow   as   he   waited   for   her   to   strike,       despite   himself   having   lowered   his   guard.       "       you   don't   exactly   strike   me   as   someone   who   just   follows   orders,       "       he   stepped   closer   to   athena,       the   space   between   them   charged   a   dangerous   intrigue   that   seemed   to   hum   in   the   air. 

fractal  reflections  of  glittering  champagne  shown  across  the  ballroom,  accompanied  by  the  never-ending  soundtrack  of  societal  posturing  that  wrapped  around  her  in  its  grating  familiarity.  the  night  had  admittedly  been  tame  thus  far,  at  least  in  contrast  to  the  last  few  gatherings  that  had  been  hosted  as  of  late.  yet  as  the  moon  began  its  slow  ascendant  into  the  inked  stained  sky,  she  couldn't  help  the  paranoia  that  had  slowly  been  seeping  into  her  mind  throughout  the  night,  trickling  in  unwanted  until  the  dam  in  her  mind  gave  out.  for  her  own  peace  of  mind  she  had  spent  a  good  portion  of  the  night  lingering  near  @mvgcs,  her  focus  never  once  straying  from  the  werewolf  as  she  analyzed  every  breath,  every  movement,  to  make  sure  the  other  was  managing  through  what  part  of  the  evening  they  were  actually  able  to  attend. her  fixation  only  comes  to  a  halt  as  a  commotion  nearby  catches  her  attention,  only  briefly  glimpsing  platinum  strands  before  the  crowd  swallows  him  whole  again.  “  never  a  dull  moment  with  him,  ”  athena  scoffs,  mockingly  raising  her  glass  in  his  direction  before  sinking  further  into  the  wall  behind  her,  its  shadowy  depths  only  providing  a  small  ounce  of  comfort  in  a  snake  pit  that  even  she  felt  unsettled  in.  “  i'm  sure  we'll  be  getting  a  recap  on  whatever  that  is  about  soon.  ”  the  usual  bite  in  her  words  is  temporarily  softened,  dulled  only  by  her  obligation  to  bring  what  little  comfort  she  can  offer  to  rory. 

❛   oh,   anytime   !   ❜   mizuse   immediately   picks   up   on   the   gesture,   swiveling   to   walk   the   opposite   direction   of   the   group   of   office   employees.   how   are   you   doing   ?   a   question   EVERYONE   is   asking.   it   has   the   speedster   internally   grimace;   however,   her   visage   displays   a   nonchalant   smile   and   a   shrug   of   slender   shoulders.   she’s   fine.   she   HAS   to   be.   the   continuous   training   seems   like   punishment   after   the   incident   she   failed   to   stop   in   time,   but   it’s   to   just   get   better   ..   faster   ..   stronger,   so   she   can   next   time   right   ?   it's   the   reason   she   is   in   sentinel   and   not   paragon.   ❛   i’m   doing   just   fine   !   have   they   shown   you   the   latest   analytics   from   my   training   this   week   yet   ?   i’m   totally   kicking   ass.   ❜   

"not so much a bribe but a guarantee," he teases. his laughter meets hers, a hearkening back to days of training. he will never deny the swell of pride as she takes on the role of sentinel, but he cannot ignore the twinge of sadness either. it happens with all his former trainees, but mizuse's training sessions were always a delight. challenging to develop, but always exciting to witness her execute.

kiran smiles as she holds the bag to him, plucking a gummy from the pack. "thank you -- for this and for your time." eyes flicking to down the hall to the other workers mingling, he tips his head the opposite way. let's walk and talk.

"i wanted to check in and see how you're holding up. really --- how are you doing?"

mizuse   stops   right   in   her   tracks   at   the   sound   of   kiran’s   voice   echoing   down   the   hall.   she   pivots   to   face   him   with   a   grin,   it   continuing   to   grow   across   her   visage   at   the   sight   of   a   bag   of   peach   -   flavored   gummies   revealed   from   within   his   pocket.   ❛   oh   !   thank   you   !   ❜   with   an   elated   gasp,   mizuse   takes   the   bag   from   his   grasp   to   admire   its   packaging.   ❛   resorting   to   bribery   to   get   me   to   stop   for   a   chat   ?   ❜   the   speedster   jests   as   she   flickers   her   gaze   back   up   to   kiran   and   opens   the   plastic   to   snatch   a   piece   of   candy   and   pops   one   into   her   mouth.   mizuse   then   laughs   as   she   adds,   ❛   i   always   have   time   for   you,   kiran.   ❜   she   extends   her   hand   holding   the   bag   to   offer   him   a   piece.

at nsa headquarters with @kyllini

"mizuse, finally!"

he's a little breathless, having darted down the hall before the speedster could disappear. it still takes a few moments for his breathing to even, but as it does, he extracts one of her favorite snacks from the inside of his suit pocket.

"snagged this for you. got any time to catch up with your favorite trainer?"

somber   hues   shift   upward   to   the   call   for   mizuse’s   attention,   flickering   with   light   from   the   warmth   emanating   from   her   tone.   a   break.   mizuse   snorts,   but   a   smile   of   interest   blossoms   across   her   features   to   paint   over   the   petulant   pout   that   was   there   before.   she   never   gets   a   break.   it   is   all   of   her   own   doing,   anyway.   there   are   ones   who   DESERVE   a   break   from   the   constant   stress   of   villany   and   turmoil   than   her.   ❛   i   don’t   know   …   ❜   reluctance   in   her   tone;   however,   her   growling   stomach   says   different.   mizuse   tries   to   muffle   the   sound   by   crossing   toned   arms   in   front   of   her   stomach,   but   suzume   knows   the   younger   is   always   hungry.   especially   after   training.   ❛   i   guess   i   could   take   a   little   break,   ❜   another   shrug   of   her   shoulders,   brushing   off   the   sheer   excitement   of   spending   time   with   suzume   outside   of   heroic   (   or   vigilante   )   duties.   ❛   as   long   as   i’m   back   by   my   stupid   curfew   !   ❜

suzu hates to admit it, but it’s true. with the way kronos has ushered the twins and the serum back into secrecy, all there’s left to do is to prepare. for her, this means organizing within crux: plans of action and collecting information. for mizuse, this means increased training. both play a waiting game, unable to discern exactly when the next threat will occur—or what it will be. who knows? maybe dante will come back, and they’ll have a whole different set of problems on their hands.

“okay, so, change of plans.” suzu claps her hands. “c’mon, look at me,” she beckons, calling for mizuse’s attention with a smile and warm tone. “we take a break. and i mean it—we all need breaks. you’ll burn out if you don’t take them. we can get lunch at the place near mine, take the rest of the day off. go shopping or something. what do you think?”

lightning   -   fast   reflexes   catch   the   water   bottle   tossed   her   way   as   suzume   speaks   her   usual   wise   and   sisterly   words   (   she   can   read   mizuse   like   a   book   no   matter   how   much   she   has   mastered   to   conceal   true   feelings   ).   it   makes   mizuse   sigh   —   in   both   annoyance   and   exhaustion.   ❛   i   know,   i   know,   ❜   the   younger   responds   as   she   hoists   herself   to   sit   on   a   crate.   ever   since   the   buchanan   incident,   nsa   has   been   focusing   on   more   training   on   their   heroes,   especially   the   ones   they   do   not   put   on   a   pedestal.   non   -   stop   training   is   a   constant   reminder   that   mizuse   wasn’t   fast   enough   …   thinking,   reacting,   saving.   even   if   mizuse   was   responsible   for   rescuing   guests   from   the   shattered   chandelier   and   corralling   novus   citizens   out   of   the   museum   to   escape   the   frenzied   twins,   she   wasn’t   on   time   to   save   everyone.   at   least   with   suzume,   the   pressure   of   being   looked   down   on   isn’t   as   prominent.   being   in   her   presence   is   comforting.   like   home.   

❛   there’s   not   much   i   can   do   right   now,   anyway.   ❜   mizuse   adds   before   taking   a   sip   of   water   with   a   shrug   of   her   shoulders.   pout   clear   on   visage,   she   slowly   kicks   her   legs   back   and   forth,   optics   focused   on   the   ground.

with : @kyllini location : an old warehouse, somewhere in novus date : a few days after the gala

an empty warehouse becomes anything suzu wants it to be, and the environment warps over and over, illusory projectiles fired at mizuse to dodge ( among other unorthodox methods ). it’s a practice exercise tailored just for her, something they haven’t done in a while, between the nsa scooping her up and everything in between. feels like the old days. nostalgia’s not the only reason, though—after that disastrous night, suzu understands wanting to be better, faster, and she figures this will suit the younger better than sitting around doing nothing. 

“don’t beat yourself up too much over it,” she says once they stop for a break, tossing a water bottle to mizuse. “you’ll get too in your head that way. focus on what you can do instead, y’know?”

being   around   her   fellow   heroes   and   trainers   is   a   constant   reminder   of   what   happened   that   night   at   the   museum.   it   has   been   non   -   stop   training   and   crisis   management   around   the   nsa   headquarters   and   mizuse   just   needs   to   take   her   mind   off   of   it.   with   a   fearsome   thunderstorm   outside,   it   isn’t   wise   for   mizuse   to   simply   run   around   the   island   (   her   mother   constantly   found   herself   saying   “   i   don’t   care   how   fast   you   are   —   you   will   still   get   a   cold   !   ”   )   to   get   her   mind   off   of   things.   she   loves   running   in   the   rain.   however,   now   she   is   stuck   in   the   nsa   facilities,   so   the   speedster   decides   to   use   the   nsa   employee   workout   room   instead   of   the   one   that   the   heroes   are   supposed   to   use.   i   guess   watching   the   rain   from   the   expansive   windows   will   do.   however,   someone   has   beaten   mizuse   to   the   row   of   treadmills   —   the   skull   man.   she   hadn’t   been   there   for   too   long   before   cecil   notices   her   observing   his   near   -   perfect   running   form.   hey,   she   does   possess   a   degree   in   biomechanics   !   she   can   tell   better   than   anyone   !   musings   are   cut   short   by   cecil’s   comment,   having   the   young   hero   blink   in   surprise   that   he   noticed   her.   surprise   is   soon   painted   over   by   amusement,   a   hand   placed   on   her   hip.   ❛   oh,   is   that   a   hint   that   you’re   hiring   ?   ❜   mizuse   ventures   further   into   the   gym,   light   on   her   feet,   and   leans   against   an   adjacent   treadmill.   ❛   i   wasn’t   trying   to   be   sneaky.   you   wouldn’t   even   see   or   hear   me   coming.   ❜   she   adds  even   if   cecil   already   knows   (   he   knows   everything   ).    ❛   i   could   fit   right   in,   don’t   cha’   think   ?   ❜

where: nsa facilities who: @kyllini

cecil does his best thinking - as most people do - away from everyone else. it’s not the reason he took up distance running, but the running makes it easier to think. makes it easier to not have to talk to people though, regrettably, when he has to use a gym that’s not always the case. the thunderstorm bottoming out over novus keeps him inside; oxygen mask securely in place and pale eyes focusing on nothing but said storm pummeling the city while he runs on a treadmill in the comfort of the nsa’s facilities. the media may have moved on from buchanan’s catastrophe (and accepted the truth kronos supplied), but he hasn’t. and won’t. still, it’s hard for him to focus on it when he can feel (and see, thanks to the reflection of mizuse in the window) someone watching him. he slow the treadmill to a fast walk, removing the restrictive mask as he does before wiping sweat from his face with a towel. “if you’ve grown bored of sentinel and are trying to join my division, you’ll have to be sneakier than that, mizuse.”

optics   flicker   across   the   scarred   skin   of   her   instructor,   observing   the   way   his   calloused   digits   point   and   gesture   towards   the   arsenal   of   weapons   mizuse   definitely   has   no   reason   to   be   in   possession   of.   it’s   not   like   she   is   a   terrible   shot.   the   entire   round   pierced   through   the   target’s   bullseye;   however,   why   would   she   need   to   rely   on   a   weapon   she   can   out   run   ?   ❛   tsk   —   yeah,   it   would   be   a   bad   idea   to   bring   a   gun   to   a   fight   against   ME,   sir,   ❜    gaze   shifts   back   up   towards   his   visage   at   the   mention   of   the   gala   —   guilt   slamming   down   her   heart   into   the   pits   of   her   stomach.   i   wasn’t   fast   enough.   the   devil-may-care   smile   falters   in   the   slightest,   sensing   the   mood   of   the   lesson   shifting.   mizuse   sets   down   the   secured   weapon   she   had   previously   fired   back   on   the   table   to   put   her   hands   on   her   hips.   she   notices   the   glint   of   specialty   knives   and   daggers,   similar   to   the   ones   that   her   father   had   used   during   his   clandestine   career   as   “   kage.  ”   let’s   not   forget   the   katana   that   is   his   prized   possession   (   mizuse   has   secretly   played   around   with   …   hey,   her   mother   did   put   her   in   kendo   classes   !   ).   ❛   i   know   my   way   around   these,   ❜   mizuse   picks   up   one   of   the   combat   knives,   grip   secure   around   the   handle,   with   the   edge   oriented   away   from   her.   as   of   right   now,   mizuse   does   not   carry   weapons   with   her   while   on   duty   as   a   sentinel.   when   she   was   moonlighting   as   a   vigilante   way   back   when   …   that’s   a   different   story.   ❛   if   we’re   talking   about   using   ANYTHING   in   arms’   reach,   sir   …   i   suggest   there   should   be,   like,   more   unusual   items   here.   this   laying   around   would   be   a   miracle.   ❜

OPEN ! summary training together a week after the buchanan's gala

moments ago, he had instructed them to empty a round into a single metal plate one-thousand meters away. exactly one emptied round later, as the last bullet falls loose from the barrel of their gun, he returns with a bundle in his arms. wayne lays out a cloth spread of weapons on the table. four different guns, three different knives. "put the safety on," he reminds, without looking up, as deft fingers load copper-plated steel bullets into a black fnx-45 tac. glinting off the fluorescents are scratches on the barrel, like someone used this gun to hit something. or someone. in the harsh light, nothing is forgiven—every inch of him shows hard and carved and calloused. casually cut and scarred. along the jutting bone of his left wrist, snaking around his hand then disappearing into his palm, is a line of scar tissue about an inch thick.

and his knuckles are still puffed up and scabbed over from the attack a week before. "alright," he starts. "never bring a gun to a supers' fight and, best case scenario, your target's dead before they know you ever existed," he lists off lessons from their past few sessions as he attaches an omega 45k to the barrel-end of a gun. "but," he pauses. "you were at the gala. or you've heard of it by now..." he holds a sigh in his chest. all of this almost feels silly—something so hopeless about trying to shoot at shadows, preparing to fight an enemy no one can see. but he wants to help, but he's no good at asking so how have you been, and he's even worse at saying the right thing, so this is the best he can do. "you need to know how to fight in any situation, with anything within arm's reach." he nods at the spread of weapons in front of them, cueing them to take their pick. "let me see your grip."

amarcnthined​:

“—right.” suzu arches an eyebrow at mizuse’s denial and suppresses an amused smile. “well, you’re doing a good job of fooling everyone else, i’ll give you that.” she sips her drink, gaze traveling across the crowd, humming in agreement as mizuse explains her father’s absence. “you can tell him all about it later. he’ll probably love to hear it.” in her peripheral vision, she notices mizuse stepping closer, fingers fidgeting with silver jewelry, and suzu turns to fully face the young hero. “i didn’t, no.” better to be blunt than raise false hope. “sorry, i wish i had. it’s just as much of a surprise to you as it is to me.” still, she doesn’t elaborate on her own frustration, irritated by the fact she could’ve known but didn’t. no rumors, no whispers of a super serum finally more than a false promise—how tight of a hold does kronos have on this? but it’s nothing mizuse should worry about; suzu’s problems are her own, and she’d rather not drag mizuse into the intricacies of it.

“but barring that, how does it feel to be at your first official event?” she asks, mocking the tone of the journalist with a grin. beneath the teasing lies pride for what mizuse’s become, even if she thought the speedster would be better off in crux. “do you think it was worth it?” her tone turns serious, more contemplative. “all the training?”

there   is   no   necessity   for   an   apology.   it   seems   like   everybody   here   was   blindsided   by   the   announcement   by   the   kronos   ceo.   the   grin   on   her   countenance   blossoms   from   consolation   (   of   course   mizuse   notices   the   vexation   swirling   within   the   bluntness   of   the   answer   that   she   did   not   want   to   give   the   younger   )   to   the   charismatic   self   -   assurance   and   relaxed   simper.   ❛   this   is   easy   -   peasy,   ❜   mizuse   answers   with   a   scoff.   the   amount   of   media   training   she   had   to   suffer   through   years   holed   up   in   the   nsa   training   facility   has   prepared   her   for   …   most   of   this.   what   mizuse   has   is   an   EDGE   —   able   to   think   quickly   on   her   feet   and   have   the   inability   to   be   visibly   fazed   by   most   surprises   and   stressful   situations.   however,   this   speedster   is   still   human   and   cannot   be   blasé   towards   everything,   especially   towards   the   discreet,   tense   mannerisms   and   underlying   meaning   in   teasing   words.   optics   flit   around   the   ballroom,   surrounded   by   the   nsa’s   super   -   powered   greats   and   novus’   influential.   holding   her   father’s   hand   at   similar   events,   wow’d   by   the   same   people   instead   of   being   the   one   to   work   with   them   only   seems   like   it   was   yesterday.   ❛   of   course   the   training   was   worth   it,   ❜   mizuse’s   gaze   shifts   back   towards   the   vigilante   with   a   gratified   smile   and   sigh   of   content   (   relief   the   grueling   training   has   ended   ).   ❛   i   learned   how   to   be   the   FASTEST.   i   reached   speeds   that   would’ve   taken   me   years   to   accomplish   if   i   didn’t   have   that   training,   y’know   ?   maybe   with   a   bit   more   experience   being   an   official   hero,   i   can   become   too   fast   at   saving   novus   so   heroes   can   be   a   little   bored   for   once,   ❜   she   quips   with   a   soft   chuckle,   only   suzu   being   able   to   witness   the   reveal   an   altruistic   side   of   the   younger.   mizuse   strives   to   be   one   of   THE   BEST   —   to   ensure   a   safer   society   and   also   lift   some   of   the   overwhelming   responsibility   off   her   veteran   mentors.   ❛   and   you   taught   things   that   they   couldn’t   have.   you’re   one   of   the   reasons   why   i’m   able   to   be   here   tonight.   ❜   

one   of   the   things   that   relaxes   mizuse   is   the   wind   in   her   hair,   breeze   brushing   along   smooth   skin   —   whether   the   sensations   arise   from   a   sprint   or   perched   on   the   highest   point.   despite   mizuse   being   less   adapted   to   cold   weather,   she   still   seeks   the   rooftop   (   she   purchased   a   sweatshirt   from   the   museum’s   gift   shop   that’s   not   surprisingly   open   to   have   some   sort   of   warmth   )   for   a   breath   of   fresh   air   &   some   solitude.   the   speedster   doesn’t   expect   anyone   else   up   here,   eyes   wide   in   WONDER   and   an   elated   gasp   once   she   steps   outside   to   witness   the   hanging   lights   and   sculptures   decorating   the   space.   however,   a   beat   after   expressing   her   wonder   and   relief,   her   attention   swiftly   shifts   to   the   seated   figure.   hands   shoved   into   the   front   pocket   of   the   sweatshirt   (   what   a   great   outfit   —   a   vintage   couture   dress   &   matching   heels   underneath   a   cotton   pullover   ),   mizuse   recognizes   it’s   one   of   the   heroes   -   in   -   training   …   oswald,   was   it   ?   oscar   ?   ❛   nah,   i’m   good,   ❜   she   declines   the   offer,   gradually   with   lithesome   steps   making   her   way   over   to   the   parapet.   mizuse   reaches   to   slip   off   her   shoes   and   sets   them   aside   before   lifting   herself   onto   the   ledge   beside   otto   in   a   fluid   motion.   ❛   nice   view   up   here,   eh   ?   ❜   she   gives   a   swift   glance   towards   him   before   nodding   her   chin   towards   the   novus   skyline,   slowly   kicking   her   feet   back   and   forth.   

when: 7 january 2040 where: buchanan’s annual gala who: open!

there’s little trouble to get into on the rooftop, but then he hadn’t expected to find much up of anything up here. he’s mildly surprised to find it decorated with tiny twinkling lights that seem to never phase out of relevance no matter the decade. there are seating arrangements, too, as if it’s common to host an event atop a museum but then maybe it is. a lot of change can happen in seven years. he hoists himself up to sit on the parapet - feet dangling over the edge - and gazes out over the capital city. when he was younger, he dreamed of blacking out an entire city like this. just to see if he could. he’s old enough to know it’s a death wish, but that childlike curiosity remains. he supposes he should be grateful the nsa couldn’t extinguish that over the last seven years. he cranes his head back as the door to the rooftop opens, blue eyes giving the intruder a once over before he, good naturedly, offers his vape pen. not without taking a hit first, but still offered nonetheless. “first hit’s free.“

an      amused      chortle      emits      from      her      nose      at      the      comparison      baz      responds      with,     too      busy     indulging      in      the      taste      of      fresh      tomatoes      and      tangy      balsamic      vinegar,      but      still      extends      her      plate      towards      her      mentor      if      he’s      interested      in      another      piece.      a      crude      way      to      put      it,      but      he’s      right      —      a      true      statement      for      many      retorts      in      the      conversations      they’ve      had      bonding      throughout      mizuse’s      years      at      the      nsa.      now      a      fresh      graduate      and      focusing      all      of      her      time      on      being      a      part      of      sentinel,      she      has      missed      spending      time      with      baz.      a      twinge      of      disappointment      twists      her      heart    the      nsa      doesn’t      think      she's     READY      to      be      a      part      of      the      paragon      team,      but      this      only      fuels      her      determination      to      improve      and      demonstrate      she      can      fit      right      in      with      the      big      leagues.      mizuse      can’t      help      but      feel      a      bit      of      gratitude      towards      the      twins      for      shifting     all     the      attention      to      them,      so      the      press      wouldn’t      be      focused      on      her      rookie      debut      or      the      celebrity      status      of      paragon      heroes.      brows      then      raise      at      what      comes      next      from      baz,      placing      a      hand      on      her      sternum      to      feign      offense      as      she      grins      up      at      him.      ❛     ha     !     that      doesn’t      sound      like      what      happened      during      my      21st      birthday      party.      i’m      a      responsible      partier     !      ❜      the      hand      leaves      to      close      into      a      fist      and      nudge      his      closest      bicep      to      her.      ❛      do      you      mean      that’s      what      happened      during      YOURS   ?   ❜

>his   back   rests   comfortably   against   the   bar,      drink   nursed   in   hand   shaken   through   the   fidgets   of   calloused   fingers.      darkened   hues   watch   her   with   a   familial   warmth,      humming   in   subtle   agreement   as   mizuse   continues   to   toss   around   her   speculations.      whatever   this   serum   is,      whoever   it’s   going   to   affect      …      he   really   couldn’t   care   less.      nothing   can   replace   the   real   thing      :      the   birth   lottery   won   by   their   enhanced   genetics   and   years   of   training   surely   can’t   be   toppled   by   some   magic   in   a   bottle.      especially   not   by   a   money-hungry   mad   scientist   masking   as   an   innovator.      “      a   shitty   car   works   but   doesn’t   make   it   any   less   of   a   shitty   ride,      ”      taking   a   piece   from   her   plate,      he   pops   it   into   his   mouth   without   so   much   of   another   word.      the   sight   of   the   two   being   so   close   is   one   that’s   expected   out   of   the   two   heroes,      having   been   in   training   together   for   so   long      …      even   having   the   chance   of   seeing   mizuse   grow   to   be   the   formidable   hero   she   is   today.      he’s   now   only   mildly   disappointed      (      instead   of   immensely,      quite   different   to   his   reaction   during   her   graduation      )      she   isn’t   by   his   side   in   paragon.      “      and   we’ll   have   front   row   seats   to   the   inveitable   trainwreck.      it’s   like   binge   drinking   the   first   day   you   got   legal      …      bound   to   puke   all   over   the   place   and   pass   out   in   the   street.      sounds   familiar      ?      ”

hands   on   hips   and   glossed   brims   twisted   in   a   subtle   pout,   mizuse   is   finally   intercepted   by   the   one   person   she   has   been   procrastinating   on   an   important   visit   (   it’s   a   bit   of   guilt   breaking   the   latest   thing   he   built   ).   and   of   course   zayid   would   go   out   of   his   way   to   find   her   at   a   formal   event.   sepia   hues   flicker   to   the   device   revealed   in   his   palm,   interest   veiled   on   her   visage   by   a   guilty   “   oops   ”   at   his   emphasis.   mizuse   knows   exactly   the   expression   painted   across   his   countenance   insinuates,   and   it   even   ignites   a   twinkle   of   her   own   curiosity.   ❛   zayid,   i’m   in   a   very   expensive   dress   and   heels,   ❜   mizuse   is   definitely   not   well   dressed   for   a   test   -   run   (   nor   is   she   allowed   to   use   her   abilities   in   any   way   ),   but   she   reaches   for   the   earbud   for   inspection.   she   has   been   so   good   so   far   tonight,   but   good   behavior   was   bound   to   be   put   to   an   end   soon.   swift   hues   flicker   around   for   any   sort   of   security   guard   that   may   be   in   earshot   of   her   conversation—or   even   cameras—as   she   quietly   adds,   ❛   …   you   really   want   to   test   this   out   NOW   ?   ❜

for: @kyllini. date: january 7, 2040. location: buchanan’s gala.

“had you come to HQ the first time i asked you to, we wouldn’t have to do this today.”

zayid’s tone is laced with impatience, the unusualness of which is further highlighted by the strictness of his voice as he gives mizuse a look that is supposed to tell her he won’t accept no for an answer tonight. when he’s satisfied with her response (or lack thereof) he uncurls his fist to display a suspiciously tiny device—an earbud, to be precise—his earlier demeanor soon replaced by a proud grin as he locks eyes with the young superhero. “i repaired and fine-tuned it after it broke the last time,” he says, stopping only briefly to emphasize the word broke before returning to his previous smile, “it should be able to withstand the cold at high speed now.”

which is to say: we need to go out and test it right now immediately.

optics   gaze   upon   a   VIVID   kandinsky   painting,   analyzing   the   vibrant   colors   as   thoughts   of   tonights’   revelations   swirl   inside   of   her   mind.   mizuse   wanted   to   take   a   break   from   the   commotion   inside   the   main   ballroom   and   see   the   newest   installations   herself.   taking   a   break   standing   around   in   heels   is   a   plus,   too.   in   peripheral   vision,   mizuse   notices   the   approach   of   a   figure   —   a   kronos   employee.   posture   straightens,   but   she   doesn’t   move   besides   moving   the   pair   of   heels   to   the   other   side   of   her   to   free   up   space   on   the   furniture.   ❛   i’ve   seen   performances   better   than   anything   they   could   even   DREAM   of   doing,   ❜   a   subtle   smile   and   a   glance   towards   saskia,   tucking   feathery   onyx   tresses   behind   her   ear.   ❛   s’not   fair   they’re   the   only   ones   who   get   to   showcase   their   talents   …   i   think   we   all   should   deserve   a   shot   to   wow   the   crowd,   ❜   the   speedster   slightly   leans   towards   saskia,   the   curl   of   her   lips   playful.   ❛   i   am   a   pretty   good   singer,   y’know.  i   could   definitely   push   the   twins   out   of   first   place.    . . .    you   got   a   secret   talent   ?   ❜   

when: 7 january 2040 where: buchanan's annual gala who: open!

saskia loves a good party - especially one where the food and drinks are on her boss’s dime - as much as the next person, but even she needs to step away for a moment. blame it on buchanan’s announcement and the sudden need of every single kronos employee to come seek her out and congratulate her as if she’d created the whole damn serum herself. she’s but a small part of the machine and she doesn’t like taking credit for other people’s work.

she doesn’t really want any credit for this either.

the sight of the ‘miracle twins’ leaves her nauseated and with the whole museum being available, saskia takes advantage - meandering from exhibit to exhibit until there’s fewer and fewer people and no chatter about super serums or wonder twins. “i think they’re going to put on another performance here in a few minutes,” she says. she sits on a bench in front of a large painting but facing away from it in a swirl of braids and green fabric. “you sure you wanna miss out on that?”

mizuse   is   collecting   hors   d’oeruves   on   a   small   plate   with   the   paragon   hero   at   her   side.   with   all   of   this   standing   around,   nerves   churning   her   stomach,   and   the   necessity   to   consume   some   calories   —   she   can’t   resist.   the   choices   are   OVERWHELMING,   fingers   wiggling   in   enticement   as   she   reaches   for   a   bruschetta.   she   brings   it   to   her   brims,   biting   into   it   with   a   CRUNCH   !   as   baz   turns   to   blurt   out   a   vexed   question   directed   towards   her.   brows   raise,   gaze   shifting   from   him   to   the   twins   across   the   extravagant   ballroom   showcasing   their   injected   abilities   as   she   chews.   ❛   i   mean,   they’re   usin’   their   powers   right   in   front   of   us.   the   serum   works,   ❜   mizuse   answers   once   she   swallows   and   pivots   her   attention   back   to   baz,   using   him   and   his   skepticism   to   freely   bounce   hypotheses   off   of.   show   a   not   so   easily   accessible   side   of   the   young   hero.   it   wouldn’t   be   the   first   time   she’d   talk   his   ear   off   or   encourage   him   to   continue   a   rant.   ❛   i   wonder   if   it’s   temporary.   if   they   have   a   weak   constitution   and   weren’t   MADE   to   handle   whatever   injected   power   they   got,   use   over   time   will   have   a   huge   side   effects   on   ‘em,   ❜   a   hum   of   thought   and   then   a   shrug   of   exposed   shoulders.   ❛   we’ll   just   have   to   see.   ❜   sentence   ends   with   another   bite   to   finish   off   the   toasted   italian   bread.   

𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐒      @      𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐍'𝐒   𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐀      —      𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡

he   wasn't   planning   on   attending,      visibly   nursing   a   glass   of   whiskey   in   one   hand   and   eyes   rolling   at   every   other   boastful   syllable      ...      he'd   much   rather   be   somewhere   with   much   dimmer   lights,      tucked   behind   the   vip   section   of   lux   sipping   on   something   much   stronger.      a   sigh   filters   out   at   the   remembrance   of   his   father's   words      —      duty   is   duty.      you   chose   this,      you   have   to   follow   through.      gaze   turns   to   the   figure   to   his   side,      brow   quirking   in   subtle   inquiry.      “      d'you   actually   buy   that   shit      ?      anyone   can   be   super      ?      ”      the   scoff   that   lifts   from   his   lips   is   evident,      not-so-vague   disbelief   riddled   through   otherwise   undeniable   arrogance.      “      it's   cute,      i'suppose.      it's   like   when   little   kids   wear   labcoats      ...      stethoscopes   'n   all   that,      playin'   doctors      —      pretending   to   be   something   they're   not,      ”

it   is   all   a   facade   —   it’s   what   five   years   of   training   within   the   nsa   and   observing   her   father   veil   emotions   ever   since   she   had   met   him.   mizuse   engrossed   in   conversation   with   an   avid   journalist   wanting   to   pick   apart   a   rookie   after   a   shocking   revelation;   however,   the   speedster   is   ALWAYS   one   step   ahead.   blasé   smile,   an   occasional   sip   of   her   sparking   beverage,   maintaining   eye   -   contact   with   the   reporter   …   not   revealing   a   thing.   mizuse   didn’t   know   how   much   longer   she   could   stand   here   and   deal   with   the   interview,   hues   flickering   for   anything—anyone—more   interesting   she   could   point   them   out   to.   after   all,   she   is   a   newbie   to   all   of   this   …   and   the   fleet   -   foot’s   patience   is   starting   to   wear   thin.   wings   attach   to   her   ankles   subtly   flutter,   concealed   by   the   material   of   her   dress.   next   thing   mizuse   notices   is   her   savior,   suzu,   approach   the   two   of   them   and   the   journalist   makes   a   hasty   retreat.   ❛   me   ?   nervous   ?   psh   —   ❜   mizuse   grins   with   a   dismissive   wave   and   a   shake   of   her   head.   ❛   dad   didn’t   want   to   attend.   you   and   i   both   know   he   doesn’t   like   these   sort   of   things,   ❜   she   answers,   knowing   the   vigilante   can   see   right   through   her   act.   grin   slightly   falters   as   mizuse   steps   closer   to   her,   fiddling   with   silver   jewelry   wrapped   around   digits.   suzu,   adopting   the   role   of   big   sister,   is   the   source   of   information,   motivation   ...   reassurance.   ❛   …   i’m   guessing   you   didn’t   hear   anything   about   this.   ❜

with : @kyllini location : buchanan’s gala, main room date : january 7, 2040

it’s easy to spot the familiar figure caught in a conversation she doesn’t want to be in. with how fast mizuse is, an escape should be as simple as running away—but the politics of playing nice make that a bit more complicated. suzu knows mizuse can take care of herself, but who would she be if she didn’t help out at least a little? 

she cuts in between mizuse and the journalist with a winning smile, leaning in to whisper something that sends them off bolting. the disturbance gone, she turns to mizuse, an ease in her demeanor that comes with being in the presence of the younger woman. “don’t tell me hitsuto actually left you alone to fend off the sharks by yourself,” she teases. “nervous?” not that mizuse looks it—picture perfect and the spitting image of what a hero should be, slipstream is ready to face the crowd. “don’t be. no nsa script could’ve prepared you for this mess.”

the   TINGLE   of   electricity   …   the   static   in   the   air   of   perhaps   a   forthcoming   lightning   strike   or   really   …   it’s   an   adjacent   comrade   experiencing   an   anxious   chill   down   her   frame.   it   is   a   sensation   mizuse   has   felt   before   since   rosie’s   debut   three   months   after   her   own   on   team   sentinel.   the   speedster   immediately   flickers   her   gaze   from   people   -   watching—sycophants   fawning   over   buchanan   and   the   serum   freak   -   show   twins   who   just   left   the   stage—to   rosie   beside   her,   a   slight   furrow   to   her   brows.   the   query   is   the   one   mizuse   least   expected,   yet   it   probably   good   to   talk   about   ANYTHING   else   besides   what   was   just   revealed.   her   stomach   churns   ;   emotions   concealed   more   expertly   than   the   adjacent   cohort.   of   course   their   first   formal   affair   officially   being   on   sentinel   has   to   be   an   event   like   this.   ❛   an   aperol   spritz,   ❜   mizuse   answers,   lifting   the   glass   in   her   hand   slightly.   ❛   i   really   just   wanted   an   orange   slice,   but   the   bartender   wouldn’t   let   me   just   have   one,   so   i   had   him   surprise   me,   ❜   she   reveals   a   beat   after,   the   usual   nonchalant   smile   on   glossed   brims.   even   if   she   could   speed   behind   the   counter   herself   to   snatch   one,   using   her   abilities   in   a   place   like   this   isn’t   a   good   idea.   ❛   do   you   want   to   try   it   ?   ❜

𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆      ›         buchanan’s gala. with anyone.

  consequence   was   something   rosie   thought   about     a   lot   these   days.    or,    maybe    effect    was    the    better    word.    the    effect    of    becoming    a    super    was    attending    events    like    these.    the    effect    of    electricity    manipulation    was    the    synapses    in    your    brain    dying    over    time,    essentially    sentencing    you    to    die    in    your    early    sixties.    the    effect    of    this?    giving    abilities    to    people    who’s    bodies    were    never    meant    to    handle    them?    she    shivered,    a    frown    drawn    on    her    face    as    she    patted    down    strands    of    hair.    oh    yeah,    the    effect    of    anxiety?    electric.    she    rolled    her    eyes    at    nothing    in    particular    and    took    a    sip    of    her    champagne.    her    therapist    taught    her    what    to    do    to    avoid    a    pr    nightmare.    distract,    distract,    distract.

“    what    are    you    drinking?   ”    she    pipes    up,    eyes    on    her    neighbor.    she    offered    a    sweet    smile,    patting    once    more    at    her    hair.

utopiian​:

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽:  a  camping  spot  .  the  same  one  he’s  gone  to  for  years  .

𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂:  closed  for  @lupus-infabula​​​  .

            (   *      ──    𝐍𝐎  𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑  𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇  𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄  has  passed  since  he  drifted  away  ,  finnegan  still  cares  for  the  one  who  once  made  their  heart  skip  a  beat  .  the  one  whose  habits  they  still  remember  ,  the  one  who  first  pressed  his  lips  against  their  own  .  the  one  who  became  a  ghost  among  the  living  ,  who  embraced  silence  and  distance  ,  who  taught  her  both  love  and  heartbreak  ──  still  ,  she  cares  .  enough  to  pack  some  food  to  last  him  a  couple  days  and  gift  him  her  own  water  bottle  ,  all  stuffed  within  whatever  supermarket  bag  they  could  find  ──  dressed  in  dark  clothes  ,  they  make  their  way  across  the  expanse  of  hollow  falls  park  under  the  night  sky  until  they  reach  the  place  where  they  know  he  resides  on  the  weekends  .  after  all  ,  he’s  been  doing  the  same  thing  since  he  was  thirteen  .  a  tent  is  tapped  from  the  outside  in  their  version  of  a  knock  ,  the  bag  clutched  tightly  within  their  grasp  ,  and  a  heart  beats  faster  within  their  chest  ──  expectation  builds  ,  nerves  grow  .

he was at a loss for words. after all, what was appropriate to say to someone he shared so many firsts with ? it use to be so easy, but in the years that passed, trying to talk to them was like trying to breathe underwater. he was someone that held memories close, someone that was notoriously afraid of forgetting. with finnegan standing in front of his tent, he caught himself wishing some memories could be erased, namely the way he could tell that her shoulders were tense and how he already knew the look on her face despite standing behind her, all from memory. with nerves elevating, he gripped the fishing line in his hand tightly as he briefly considered walking away, but they deserved better and he knew it. they always had. he racked his brain for words worthy of their presence. “ behind you. “ was what he finally decided on with eyes falling to the bag of supplies in her hand. he carefully walked past them to the tent and retrieved the bag of supplies she had left him the last time, holding it up to her. “ you can take that one and the one from last time when you go. your faction needs them more than i do. “  

endurxnce​:

╰ location: outskirts of the school grounds. ╰ open starter.

╰ ★ 】 ━━━━━ though their being trapped in whatever form of hell this was showed that there were no monsters prowling the campus, the fire of lance hall showed that they were the only creatures here who went bump in the night.  he wasn’t even sure himself if a patrol would do anything, but, it was an assigned job, and he didn’t think arguing with the new ham overlords would do him any favors.  so, right after dinner, he started on the route of his evening shift with a rake that had been broken into a makeshift staff in his hands, his only form of defense against whatever, or whoever, felt like ambushing him.

suddenly, as the clouds shifted over the moon, there was a cracking of sticks behind him.  he whipped around, eyes scanning for any moving shadows in the dim light, his grasp tight on his weapon.  “who’s there?” he called out.  “come on, no one likes to be snuck up on.”

the funniest part of all was that eren was not trying to sneak up on his step-brother, but altas still found a way to get startled anyway. it was comical, the way he was forced to step out of the shadows with his arms crossed as though he were a supervillain pre-monologue. he looked atlas over briefly with a hand hovering below his nose and, after breathing in, he finally spoke. “ okay, so, be patient, there’s a lot to unpack here. “ it had only been a few months since their first full conversation so it made sense that he was not yet good at it, a an even greater possibility that he never would be. however, when he parted ways with atlas to literally any faction that would take him, he thought his hands were clean. he felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders watching atlas walk away, but now as atlas stood there frightened with a makeshift staff, all of that weight seemed to return. “ any faction that would put you on guard duty is asking to be looted. just the sight of you makes me want to rob you and i’m the one with an obligation to keep you alive. your stance is wide open, your hands aren’t far enough apart and you’re too jumpy. i mean, fuck, man. “ 

inadeqcies​:

CLOSED * FT @lupus-infabula​ !!!

  “ — and here i was thinking that if anybody wanted to find you , they’d have to try the west ham dump . “ ricardo calls out , easily , as soon as he sees the familiar build of EREN GRAY . ricardo’s entire body is automatically tensing , hands curling into delicate fists by his sides . there is a routine both males know , and ricardo knows better than to try and walk away , or pretend he hasn’t seen the other . every lousy corner he turns eventually , he always bumps into eren . and he often leaves it with a bloody nose , bloody knuckles , or BOTH ( mainly both ) . reflexively , his jaw locks . “ i already claimed this part of this shop . looks like you’re fresh out of luck , which shouldn’t be a new concept for you . losers always lose . “ he comments , glancing around at the auto-store where he knew eren would drag himself to at some point . maybe , just maybe , ricardo enjoys the goading . enjoys the anger , rage , boiling and brewing , before it spews out in the image of blood and purple bruises . some people ride fast cars , or jump out of airplanes - ricardo rolls up his expensive valentino button up , and launches his fists onto nearby faces . namely , eren’s .

it was hard to remember when trying to rearrange the features of ricardo’s face became a beloved pastime. the other male just had one of those looks. a look of stolen confidence and devilish yet crooked grins that warrant a punch or two. or maybe it was just a sadistic, animalistic nature that made him feel a rush of adrenaline from cutting his fist against ricardo’s sharp features. in truth, he could have went to a variety of different shops in the city, but stubbornness and the unprecedented amount of ‘ fuck you anyway ‘ that he felt towards ricardo persuaded him to go to the shop of his choosing. “ are you done ? “ he knew that ricardo was far from done. he turned and stared at ricardo’s furrowed brow blankly. he shook his head and repeated, “ i’m asking if you’re done talking because i’m done listening to you talk like you’re a bully from an after school special. so, if you are, you can come here, get your ass beat and i can go back to what i was doing. “ he knew that he could have walked away, but he scoffed at the very idea. it was not really an option anyway, not when ricardo would sooner take the opportunity to knock him out cold when he turned. though he could not help but snort at ricardo’s carefully plucked eyebrows and designer suits from brand names he could not pronounce, eren could admit that his punches were not as soft as his appearance. “ though, “ he paused to look his adversary over, scrunching his nose. “ you dressed so nice for me. maybe you’d prefer to dance. “

tag dump

》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     about 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     visage 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     musings 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     threads 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     texts 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     meme 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     answered 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     wanted 》       𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 *        .     tasks

stcrliqhts‌:

there he was, gorging on his third funnel cake with absolutely no regret. the mix of his body issues and manon’s death had brought out his emotional eating side – strong. “delicious.” he hummed, licking the powdered sugar from his fingertips before his gaze rose, locking on someone quite familiar. “oh, uh, hey.” he muttered, quickly grabbing a napkin to wipe himself off before he moved further down the bench to make room for them. “enjoying yourself?”

“not really.” he sighs, slipping into the seat next to jisun with ease. the bench is large enough for the both of them to fit comfortably, but kian still settles up right next to him, their thighs pressed together. he likes to call it a test to see other people’s boundaries. “what about you?” he asks, not even asking for permission as he snatches a piece of the funnel cake from the plate. is it rude? yes. does kian care? not even a little bit. “why do you think these things are so good?” he suddenly questions, curiosity lacing his words. “i mean... it’s just bread and powdered sugar, right? it’s nothing.” he explains.

dashicns‌:

for once dashi was actually excited to be surrounded by his fellow students, the frostival was his favorite part about going to west bridge and it brought the perfect distraction from all the whole mess that has been going on recently. he was huddled over by the ice skating rink because was weirdly good at ice skating and absolutely loved to show off and force the nearest familiar face into joining him. “you know you want to!” he sang at the other as he waved a pair of skates in front of them. everything about him was uncharacteristically soft and friendly but he couldn’t help it, the atmosphere of frostival brought back the sweetest memories of his time in korea with his mother, evidently it made him into nicest self. “please come skate with me, its better skating with two than one!” he whined, which he would never admit to himself that he did.

“and why’s that?” he asks curiously, leaning against the railing. he watches a few people skate by and can’t help the laugh that slips past his lips when a few fall. “i’m not about to break out into some ice skating routine with you.” he states, taking the pair from dashi’s hands anyway. he isn’t about to put up much of a fight though because, honestly, what else does he have to do? “and if you’re trying to humiliate me? it’s not gonna work.” he narrows his eyes, playfully. “i play hockey, i know how to skate.” he says, removing his shoes and replacing them with the ice skates. he ties them tightly then looks back up at his friend. “what’s got you in such a good mood anyway?” he ventures to ask, flicking a piece of hair out of his eyes. “did you get high before the carnival without me?” he nearly pouts. “you better not be holding out on me.”

seojvns‌:

“okay,” he says as a certainty. confidence in any aspect has never been, and will probably never be, a strong suit of his, but he’ll try to believe kian’s words. not for himself - he rarely does anything for his own sake, but because he genuinely does trust him entirely. a small grin appears on his lips as kian says he does too, already feeling a growing excitement in the pit of his stomach just from the thought. jun’s almost completely still as kian’s lips press to the corner of his mouth. though it’s not the first time, each time it happens jun reverts back to a shyness that he doesn’t typically feel around kian anymore. but, without fail, as soon as they cross any line of friendship, he begins to feel an even deeper desperation towards the other. every time they’re this close, he knows it’s exactly what he wants. it’s the delicate way kian goes into it, and how he can make jun physically feel how much he cares. jun accepts the invitation and leans into kian, pressing his lips against his with an eagerness he tried, and obviously failed, to suppress. “you have?” he whispers in response, finding it too hard to believe. “i think about it all the time,” he mumbles sheepishly, caught up in the moment just enough to be completely blunt with his feelings. his hand’s on kian’s neck now, his thumb lightly brushing his cheek affectionately. it feels like a big moment, but he doesn’t know how wrong he is about that. “i’m not,” he says too quickly, his words wrapped with a sense of pleading, like he needs kian to know how untrue that is. as soon as he says it’s annoying, jun’s smiling too. “no one could be too good for you,” he adds with a pout, “and that’s really everything i need to know.”

as soon as seojun’s resolve gives and he presses back into him, chasing the kiss that kian cuts off a little too quickly, he knows that he has the green light; his roommate is definitely still right where he wants him. “mhm.” he hums in response, eyes glinting with something mischievous. he isn’t surprised when the other boy admits that he thinks about the prospect of them being together all the time, but he still pretends to be. he breaks out into a grin, head dropping as he feigns embarrassment. “imagine how mortifying it would’ve been if i said that, but you didn’t reciprocate.” he states, knowing that the scenario was never even a possibility. “you’re wrong.” he says, bluntly. “you truly put me on such a high pedestal, junnie. i don’t deserve it.” he adds, a slither of honesty seeping through the cracks of his mask. he drags his index finger down the boy’s jawline and sighs. “is it weird i kinda just wanna stay here?” he questions, letting out a light laugh. “i don’t wanna ruin the moment.” he admits, jutting his lips out into a pout. “we should at least do something before we go.” he suggests. “like... tear up the bible or push over a few bookshelves or dig through the librarian’s desk or, you know, whatever.”

moonsus‌:

for moonsu, it wasn’t unusual to gain a strange look or hear someone tell him he needed to tone himself down. which he really didn’t mind - he tried his best to keep his personality as something people felt comfortable with. he was all too willing to bend himself and shape into something that made the other happy. it wasn’t until he heard kian encouraging him that a wave of affection rushed through him. it was like he remembered why he was so deeply invested in him to begin with. kian let moonsu be himself, as embarrassing as it was at times, and it earned him another quick kiss. “then you’re in luck… i might’ve lied. i definitely have, like, double that to give. if those bitches hadn’t cut me off, i’d still be up there talking about you. they didn’t even let me get into how much i love your face. super rude, that’s my favorite part,” he complained with a furrowed brow. “i can tell you now, though?” it wasn’t like moonsu didn’t already find every opportunity to talk about kian to whoever would listen to him. it was shocking that in all that, he still never seemed to be enough to find out about kian’s antics beyond him. as much fun as moonsu was having… the second he heard that kian wanted to leave, he was nodding along, playing for his drinks and turning to casually kiss kian’s forehead, his arm tangling with his and taking a tight hold to his hand. “okay, let’s go,” he murmured, leading him out and sucking in a sharp breath as they stepped into the cold air. “you did mean… you meant my place, right?” he gestured to himself, his head cocked to the side. “i think if we do that, i might even let you drink a little…” he leaned closer to whisper, “but don’t tell, okay? i’m a responsible adult, taking care of my baby.”  

kian raises his other hand, hiding his smile behind a fist, as he giggles like a little schoolgirl. sometimes he really gets on his own nerves with shit like this, but he knows he has to do it because moonsu is super receptive to it. he just has to remind himself that it’s a small price to pay in the long run. “my face is your favorite part?” he quirks a brow, not so subtly shifting in his seat to spread his legs a little wider. call it manspreading or call it getting a point across. “you sure about that? kinda shallow.” he smiles. the happiness actually reaches his eyes when moonsu swiftly pays for their drinks and places a kiss to his forehead. he closes his eyes briefly, relishing in the feel, as he allows himself to be dragged out into the cool, night air. “of course, what else would i mean?” he knocks his shoulder against the other’s playfully. as the wind whips around them, he tugs his jacket closer around his body, and squeezes moonsu’s hand. “are you trying to get me drunk?” he questions, lightheartedly. “my lips are sealed, babe. don’t worry.” he grins, his cheeks hurting from how much he does the action. “i wouldn’t mind having a drink, to be honest. it’s been... a week. might be nice to wind down a little, you know?” he says. “i mean, there are other ways we can wind down too, but we’ve got all night.” he winks. 

moonsus‌:

there were obvious signs that moonsu was having what some might say was too much fun, and those assumptions would be drawn from the huge stuffed animals he was carrying on top of the way he was shoveling funnel cake into his mouth like it had an expiration date of five minutes. “oh, sorry,” he muttered, his words muffled as he held it out in offering. “want some?” at least he was attempting to be polite, even if the idea of sharing food with him could be disgusting to some. “i didn’t expect to be so good at these games. now i get why people play sports and stuff… the winning thing? pretty cool. kind of addicting. you want me to get you something, too? i’d give you one of the ones i already won, but… i already named them. flippers the third. also goes by lil flip to avoid confusion,” he introduced, lifting up the penguin in his other hand, “mr. roosevelt,” moonsu continued, lifting his elbow a bit to show the giant teddy bear decked out in winter gear under his arm, “and cupid. unoriginal, maybe, but he always was my favorite.“ he wiggled his arms to emphasize that it was the reindeer barely balancing on his broad shoulders. he was still surprised he’d gotten so many - a more competitive part of moonsu that he was previously not all too familiar with was definitely stepping forward the more he won. “seriously, let me get you something. it’ll be fun!”

kian grimaces for a split second, the look passing his features so quickly that he doesn’t give anyone time to notice, and he internally rolls his eyes. god, he can’t wait until this is all over. maybe he should’ve just pretended to be sick. “you’re kinda rendering my whole sporty boyfriend role useless.” he comments with a small smile, looking over all of the prizes moonsu had won. “i’m the one suppose to be winning you stuff, not you winning yourself gifts.” he laughs, trying his luck as he quickly snatches a piece of the boy’s funnel cake; cautious not to have his finger bitten off in the process. as moonsu lists off the names of the stuffed animals, kian tunes out, and instead becomes exclusively interested in licking the powder off of his fingertips. speaking of powder— god, what he would give to be high at this moment in time. “hm.” he hums, pretending like he even gives half a shit about what the other is saying. “how about we go ride the ferris wheel instead.” he suggests, turning to him with a smile. “i mean, you’re gonna have to leave your prizes behind but... i’ll make it worthwhile.” he winks, spinning around so that he’s walking backwards and facing the other boy. “plus, i doubt the ride operator will let anyone snatch your new friends.”

disingcnuous‌:

“another one! hell yeah this game is my fucking BITCH!” casper exclaimed, throwing his long arms in the arm in celebration. casper was a very athletic person in general, so tossing a ball at stacked milk jugs was child’s play. he quickly apologized to the carny in charge of restacking bottles, feeling somewhat guilty for clearing house of prizes. sure, it was 3 plushies thus far but casper was a competitive soul. once he found something he was good at, he was wiling to milk it for all it had. no pun intended.“anyone want a plushie? it’s on me. i already have two.” he called out to anyone who he’d startled with his ridiculously loud celebration. 

kian wants to rip his hair out strand by strand, not being built to withstand the kind of activity that comes with events like this. sure, his facade slips easily into place these days, but it’s so exhausting to keep up with for long periods of time and with so many different people. still, he humors those around him and forces a smile onto his face. “you’d have a great future in the olympics if only they had the milk bottle game.” he teases with a small smile, popping a piece of cotton candy into his mouth. it’s all a little too sugary for his taste, but he loves the way it melts on his tongue. “oh, wow? a plushie? for free? so generous.” he continues in a joking manner, craning his neck to check out the row of prizes. he’ll probably toss it the moment he gets the chance, but he’ll take it anyway. hell, he could even re-gift it to moonsu or something. “i want that one.” he points, his finger angled at the bunny. “you good at any other games, carnival boy? maybe we could make it into a little challenge.”

seojvns‌:

“i do trust you,” he says, and it’s never about not trusting kian. there are few people that he trusts as much as jun does him. as he speaks, his words make sense, and seojun’s nodding slowly. “that’s true,” he agrees, about it being difficult to see himself as others see him, and how that’s true for everyone. he wishes he could see what kian does though. maybe he’d be able to like himself a little bit more if he did. “i guess i believe you,” he teases, and when kian says he’s not sure if anyone’s worth having him, he laughs as though it were a joke. “don’t be ridiculous,” he says with a soft scoff, gently pushing at his shoulder. “just honest, hmm?” he hums with a grin, choosing not to argue further once kian’s leaning over to press his lips to jun’s cheek. “well, it’s easy to take risks with you,” he admits, because he trusts him so much. it feels like nothing could ever go wrong when he’s with kian. “i guess it’s good i’ve never claimed that i’m not a cliche,” he adds in his own defense, “even if it’s a nineties, or early two thousands, cliche,” he says with a soft laugh. when kian asks him if he wants to, the answer seems obvious to jun, even if he hadn’t thought about it much prior to him asking. “um… not really,” he answers, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “i just don’t know how to do that?” he confesses sheepishly. “what about you? do you wanna take more risks?” he questions in return, head tilting slightly as his eyes remain on kian. “maybe… we could learn how to together.”

a shiver runs down his spine at the words. i do trust you, he says, and kian preens. once someone trusts you, it’s so easy to get everything you want. and seojun has always made it abundantly clear that he does, indeed, trust his roommate wholeheartedly. no matter that kian is probably the last person on earth that should have that kind of power. “no guessing.” he shakes his head. “just have the confidence to believe me.” he says, voice barely above a whisper. it feels more intimate that way. “i do.” he confirms, eyes bouncing between seojun’s. “yeah, maybe we could. maybe we should.” he agrees, the wheels turning in his head. leaning forward, he presses a kiss to the corner of his roommate’s mouth then to his lips. it’s chaste, merely a light brush, but he knows this is the game he has to play in order to keep seojun right where he wants him. though, he can’t deny the tenderness of it and somewhat relishes in the feel of the boy’s soft, plump lips against his own. it’s familiar in a way that kian isn’t necessarily used to; it’s familiar in a way that he can’t pinpoint. “i’ve thought about it.” he says, lips brushing against the other’s as he speaks. he keeps his words vague, slipping easily into the more manipulative side of his game. “about us. together.” he clarifies, his right hand slowly trailing over seojun’s chest to wrap around the back of his neck. “but you’re too good for even me. shouldn’t that tell you everything you need to know? you’re perfect and—” he pauses, licking his lips, “it’s so goddamn annoying.” he smiles.

seojvns‌:

“so am i,” he says, taken aback by kian saying so. jun probably made it obvious that he was thankful that he ended up with him daily with the little gestures; making food for them both without being asked, keeping their dorm tidy on a regular basis, waiting up for kian to come home even on nights where he didn’t. seojun finds comfort in his assurance, a soft smile on his lips. “i can’t help it either,” he admits, “and i don’t think it’s childish.” it’s ironic, for seojun to be assuring kian now, but that seemed to happen way more often than kian ever needed - not that jun was aware. he gives his hand a gentle squeeze in return. he wants to believe what kian’s saying, but it’s difficult. the insecurities that had a tendency to seep in were constantly nagging at the back of his mind, giving him little reminders of why kian was wrong. but it’s nice to hear. “you’re too nice to me,” he can feel his cheeks warm again, and he’s thankful for the darkness now. “i don’t know how true any of that is, but if you think so, maybe someone else will too,” he says, his words laced with hope. maybe if he wasn’t such a romantic at heart, he wouldn’t put such an importance on love - that’d probably be the healthier option, but he’s a hopeless romantic in every sense. he lets out a playful huff in protest when kian pokes at his side, but he’s still smiling too. “maybe i’ll try to take more risks,” he muses, but if he actually will… it’s difficult to say. “is it?” he scrunches his nose again at kian calling it very nineties. he wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not. “oh,” he says, his voice soft. “i get that,” he adds, “i think i probably play it safe most of the time too.” and now he’s the one squeezing kian’s hand to reassure, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. 

he doesn’t know how their conversations always turn out like this, with seojun being the one to somehow reassure kian of everything, but it happens every single time. by now, he believes that it’s because his roommate just has a lot of insecurities and some kind of need to take care of people out of the fact that he can’t really take care of himself. and not in the traditional sense, but in the more emotional, mental sense. he should really make more of an effort to get to the bottom of that. “trust me, remember?” he quirks a brow. “it’s always hard for us to see ourselves the way others do. but, i promise, you’re someone worth having. though, i’m not so sure anyone is worth having you.” he states. “i don’t think it counts as being nice if it’s true. i’m just being honest.” he smiles, leaning over to press his lips to seojun’s cheek. “hey, you’re taking a risk with me right now.” he points out, waving his hand slightly in the air. “kinda?” he laughs. “hooking up in a bathroom at a party seemed to be a staple in nineties movies.” he explains. “or was it the early two thousands? i can’t remember.” he shrugs. “but do you want to?” he asks. “play it safe all the time? i mean, these are our college years. we’re suppose to be doing all the things that are somewhat crazy and risky. it’s not like anyone’s here to stop us.”