theirnarrative reblogged
#can you hear me scream(x)
theirnarrative reblogged
sister faith will help us; faith seed in “eden’s gate”
theirnarrative reblogged
Summer on my mind
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warring-roses-deactivated202007
Far Cry 5 + Seed loading screens
theirnarrative reblogged
“Stop! Stop talkin’ in fuckin’ riddles.” Jane takes a few steps away from Faith to keep a healthy distance between the two of them; the last thing she wants is the other woman touching her right now. “You think I give a shit about bein’ saved? You think I’d be runnin’ around killin’ yer fuckin’ ilk if I gave a shit? Heaven, hell; wherever I’m goin’, that’s between me and God and no one else.”
—closed for @theirnarrative ( faith ).
fingers are outstretched to the deputy as lips curl into a warm smile despite the other woman taking steps back away from her. the lace of her gown being pulled up toward the crook of her elbow revealing the tattoo against her pale flesh with the movement. “it isn’t too late for you. there is still time. allow the father to cleanse you of your sins.” one hand falls back against her side, the other still raised to the deputy. “it is alright to be afraid. i was too. but with us, with me, you don’t have to be scared of anything. everything will be alright.”
i haven’t been on any of my blogs and yet i reemerge wanting to write as a far cry character as my slow ass continues to play it. so if you’d like to do some plotting send me an im? i’m thinking tumblr needs a bit more faith
Reblog if you’re a marvel roleplayer
And you will be added to the list.
he’s positive jessica won’t like this. there is no way she’d sit down with the pretty woman from the indie magazine he’d never heard of that was doing a story on captain america and the rest of the former avengers. heroes. that word was forbidden from being spoken on this floor. still, he would try. why? that he’s not certain of. maybe because she’s attractive or maybe because he wants to do something good and help her out. “listen, don’t use the ‘hero’ word. jessica doesn’t like it. maybe don’t mention her collection of alcohol. or the whole killgrave thing. i could write you a list of topics to not discuss but you wouldn’t have much of an interview.”
his head turns as he finishes sanding the wall that had only recently been impaled by a litter of bullets. it wasn’t doing jessica’s business any good to look like a damn crime scene. he had been helping her out, doing repairs here and there. anything to keep him busy. he needed that. malcolm would lose his mind if he was left alone with nothing to do. curse of being a former addict. always had to be doing something. hands wipe the plaster residue clean from his hands as he moves towards his desk to the left of the door.
“jessica isn’t a bad person. she’s... unique and a bit rough around the edges but don’t give up on her. you want this story? you’re gonna have to fight for it.”
@thebalanceoflight || modern/marvel au
theirnarrative reblogged
capnsmarvel-deactivated20181114
consider this an interest check for OSCAR AROCHO and MALCOLM DUCASSE from Netflix’s JESSICA JONES! i’ve seen all of seasons one and two but would be happy to keep things spoiler free and of course spoilers will be tagged until probably the end of the month. if you have a JJ muse or Marvel muse you’d like to have interact with either of these two then send me an im or give this a like and i’ll come to you.
theirnarrative reblogged
theirnarrative reblogged
eightholyterrors
please help!
i really hate to have to ask this of you guys, but i am out of options. as most of you know my grandmother has been in & out of the hospital since christmas day. ever since then she has been struggling to stay alive. she has had many strokes, & we tried to put her into rehab, but she was abused in the rehab facility which ultimately caused her to wind up back in the hospital with a bunch more strokes. she is now home on hospice, & probably has between days & weeks to live according to the doctors. & the moment she dies me & my mom have to move because we can’t afford to live here without grandma’s income. i have never in all the time i’ve been on tumblr asked anyone for money, but me & my mom really need a fund to be able to move back home to an area that we know which is michigan ( we currently are stuck in sacramento, ca ), & so any help that anyone on here can give me i will be eternally grateful for. i would even be willing to make you icons/help with your theme/banners/aesthetics…ect. just ask. even if you can’t help if you could pass this around i would be grateful!
thank you to everyone whom keeps reblogging this & offering help it means so much to me! you all are so wonderful. <3
theirnarrative reblogged
alex&jo; warranted agony
one day. perhaps longer if he saw fit to extend their ‘vacation’ past this singular day. it was not so much the truth he worried about spreading it was her mental stability. there was no telling all the trauma that she’d endured at that brute’s hand, there was no way in hell that he’d ever permit her to go back to the dark place she must have ascended to the last time that he’d laid a hand on her. instead alex had nuzzled near to her, yearning to be her physical contact in order to prepare her for the life of a doctor, at the hospital once more. touch was a part of the job, but so was a clear head. if she was to head into that place without being prepared she might lose a patient due to an oversight, which wasn’t something she would even remotely come back from–at least not for a while. so whilst those petals were pressed together, when she was so evidently deep in thought his fingers cupped either cheek in order to turn her face to peer within her eyes. ❛meredith will not pry it out of me, if we have enough time to wipe all traces of the trauma you endured from our faces. we shall not have to tell them a single thing. you went for all these years without a soul knowing, didn’t you? we can do it again–you can do it again.❜ amending his statement threw as a soft, reassuring tone in his vocals, as he struggled to push the memories of that man holding her down–from his mind. ❛i made a vow to you that no one will ever know–& they will never know.❜ though he’d done quite a number of questionable things down through the years, lying had never been one of them. at least not about something as important as this was. if it got out it was a life-altering turn of events. ❛you’re going to be safe–you’re going to be mine again…when you’re ready to be mine that is what you will be.❜ dipping his head he stole a kiss desiring to calm her, at least for a moment. it was not even close to what he’d done for his mother, but things had been different then. he’d been a boy, unable to do everything that a man could. bathing her, keeping an eye on he, it had all been calculated, but now–now he had to pull himself together in order to prepare for the rest of their lives.
it tore at her, always remained in the forefront of her mind that she wasn’t who she said she was. jo wilson didn’t exist. her alias completely fictional, a lie to protect herself as she erased brooke stadler from the world. it hadn’t been easy forcing the thoughts of her husband free from her mind. it took years for her to finally accept that she wasn’t crazy, that what he had done to her was wrong and not her fault. paul had told her the opposite. fed her lies that she deserved every ounce of pain caused by his hand. that she was crazy and he was the only person who saw her as someone with potential.
she hated this. hated how paul’s presence reduced her to the woman she had been. the one who shied away from contact and lost her trust in others. jo hadn’t ran, didn’t push alex away despite the clawing feeling that she had to do so. it would be to save him, to free him from the crazy that once more found it’s way into his life. he didn’t deserve this. didn’t deserve the love of a woman who had been so broken by another.
all jo can do is nod at his words. lips pressing against his own as fingers gather the fabric of his shirt into her hands. “i love you.” her words are a murmur spoken against his lips, a quite sound that she barely manages to pass through her lips. “i don’t want to go back to the way I was. hiding everything from everyone. i won’t let him destroy me. destroy us.”
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features follow movement, a nod of approval at his choice of drink. he’d poured a bit more than she’d indulged in last time but after the evening she’s had– really after the week and maybe even year– she’s contemplating having a few more than the standard single drink. has it really been a year since… “tryin’ to.” sydney offers, fingers reaching for her glass, idly tilting it so she could watch the liquid move. “it’s not easy, it’ll tell you that much. but my– my dad used to say that anything worth while is rarely easy.” it was a sentiment that was often true. sure one could take the easy way but it was the journey, the adventure upon the more difficult path that taught you the necessary lessons, that molded you into you who you really were.
“that’s the thing though–” sydney begins, socked feet leading her to the other side of the island as she offers him a glance. those things will kill you one day. she doesn’t voice it but her dark hues and the soft frown that’s not quite a frown echo her words anyway. “– everyone leaves a trail, maybe not like today with computers but that’s what archeology is about. finding what those before us have left behind.” a pause as she glances around the room an air of excitement exhibited due to the topics at hand. “take cat for example. the dents on the papers over there and the fact some of them seem to have drifted toward the steps as if they had gotten stuck to him by friction. i’d bet he’s found his way to my room. likely didn’t like all my frustrated exclaims.”
her words should have sparked something inside of him. for anyone else he’s certain they would have. he was a prisoner of his own mind. allowed the darkness that only grew after mike’s death to reach it’s pinnacle. he’s only human, painfully so. a man set in his own ways that are true to who he was. each failure beat him down because he allowed it to. it made him into the deprecating man he was today. it’s a wonder how she puts up with him. how his cynical nature and general awfulness hasn’t pushed her away like everyone else in his life. perhaps it was too soon.
dark hues rise as she casts a knowing glance his way. his head shakes as he watches her, fingers expertly flicking on the lighter and catching the tip of the cigarette ablaze. knees pull up to his chest as he leans against the chair. “fuck. that’s incredible.” he means his words. he’s in awe of her. what she does is incredible, it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. “jesus, you’re gonna find the holy grail and shit.” he inhales a drag from the cigarette before blowing a cloud of smoke out towards the window. “you sure you’re not a detective? ‘cause that makes you sound like one.”
llewyn rests the cigarette on the ashtray as he reaches for the glass of whiskey. “least one of us is successful.” he hopes she finds it, that she makes a huge discovery and he’ll see her name plastered on the papers. “what will you do if you find whatever it is you’re lookin’ for?” he downs the drink, feels the all too familiar burn as it coats his throat. he doesn’t wince, features making so sign of displeasure as he sets the glass down and picks up the cigarette once more.
theirnarrative reblogged
observant hues wash over the man before her. notices the exhaustion in his features and surmises how his night may have transpired. she’s heard him sing before, witnessed his talent even if scouts had failed to discover him yet. she wonders absently if part of it was the aura he gives off at times. a rough life could do that to a person. most people didn’t know or even think about how the energy of their emotions radiate off them and emit to those around them subtly. she’s gone to the gaslight once, out of pure curiosity. stayed in the shadows and allowed a glimmer to wash over her so she could remain unseen before she had continued on with whatever she was doing that evening. she had watched this city take and take and take from so many people and so she had allowed herself to hope for him. they weren’t quite friends, yet, if that be what the fates held for these two people who had found themselves in the same living space, but weren’t strangers either.
effortlessly the dark-haired female drops from her couch perch and pads toward a small bar area she has off the side of the living room, steps careful and almost a dance as she moves around her scattered work. two glasses are retrieved before she moves back across the room to place them on the kitchen counter. “just pick a bottle and bring it over. want ice?” she questions, arm reaching out for the freezer. it takes her another moment before she answers his question, considering her answer. “battle of troy. it’s been rumored that when schliemann discovered the site in 1870 some artifacts were stolen and relocated by unknown parties. there’s been some leads in the archeological community as of late about where some of them may have ended up.” it’s mostly true with the exception that the one artifact she’s looking into in question has some magical properties and there wasn’t public leads as much as the other guardians having heard things that were passed onto malcolm and then her. she was trying to track strange occurrences around those connected, and not, through the years.
llewyn moves into the kitchen and opens the cabinet housing a collection of alcohol. they’d done this before, he’s come to learn she indulges in a drink when she’s frustrated. takes the edge off of her like it does to everyone else. “yeah. thanks.” he reaches for a bottle of whiskey and sets it on the counter near the two glasses that she’s readied for them. he fills the glasses, pours maybe a bit more then he should but they both need this.
what she does, her work in history is far above his head. he knows nothing about it, only knowledge of history he has was from high school and he was never particularly good at school. mind was always elsewhere when he should have been focused on academics. brows arch as she explains the papers covering the flat and he tries his best to follow her, to understand a fraction of what she’s doing. never did he think he’d be living with a real life indiana jones. “so what, you’re tracking them down? how can anyone know where something was hidden a hundred years ago?” llewyn takes the glass and moves towards the windows of the flat. he pulls open the window, allowing cold air to blow in. a quick apologetic glance is cast her way as he takes out a cigarette and his lighter.
“where is cat at? he’s not helping you?” helping was a far better term. cat usually crawled on top of whatever he was working on. orange fur preventing him from jotting down lyrics as he worked on new songs.
theirnarrative reblogged
Source: 666idgaf