HUMAN. / GHOST.

{ SEND ME A ᕤ…. // @ghcstwalker  } 

88:  ── “Surprises aren’t my thing.”

“Is it okay if I lean on you?” @ghcstwalker

he doesn’t know ava starr very well. far from it in fact. she was a friend of the shield agents— a friend of the ants and wasps. he knew that much. and. she was— sickly? ill. he could tell that much just from looking at her. didn’t have to be told. (she flickered between planes like a lost memory. between living and dead. real and unreal. it reminded him of long, long memories. and how you faded away when someone finally stopped speaking of you.) thor was never one to say no to a friend, though, so when the opportunity arrived– ava at the avengers headquarters following someone for a meeting— he took it upon himself to start to get to know her. so. consider him shocked when a little less then three hours later— she’s asking this. he’s. confused. just for a moment. just until he sees the way her body shivers. the way her eyes droop. the ache that’s radiating off every part of her. “ —of course you can, ava. do you need a blanket, as well? you don’t seem well. “

“AVA.”

Hayden softens at the sight of her, despite the frustration he felt at himself. He knows settling into the flow of things would be difficult, especially now that he had super-soldier enhancements in him. He appreciates the embrace, arms wrapping back around her ignoring the machine he had accidentally broke.

“I’m okay, nothing that can be fixed — just sort of smashed the coffee machine because it wasn’t working right.” He didn’t do it on purpose, but he was going to buy a new one before going home that night. 

「   ❝  →  no, i’m not fucking over it.  ❞  」⋮

❝ ross ─? do  ─  do you want to talk about it, maybe ─? ❞

granted, social interactions have never been ava starr’s forte. but when it comes to the banners ── when it comes to ross, and helping them find their brother  ──  she’s willing to put in the effort. trust is something seldom offered to agents of shield, particularly from the defected assassin otherwise known as ghost, but ross is nothing if not one of the exceptions, few and far between. perhaps that’s the reason why ava’s hand pats the seat beside her. why her head inclines to offer them her undivided attention. 

「   ❝  →  i can’t believe i did this fucking shit all over again.  ❞  」⋮

❝  — hayden —?  ❞

her frame wavers with an aura of DISENTANGLEMENT — like a three-dimensional movie screen without the proper glasses, her form fades in and out of this realm. of existence. emotions dictate ava starr’s ability to remain in control — and with CONCERN palpable in the crease of her brows, the purse of her lips, so her hold on reality, too, folds in on itself. she inhales, one sharp, definitive breath, in a desperate attempt to keep herself composed, to will away the pain as it crackles and tears, sears and pulls at every cell in her body. she stumbles — forward a moment, towards the male, then slowly wraps her arms around his waist in a meek embrace — mustering, as best she can, her ability for CONSOLATION.

「   ❝  →  fuck this.  ❞  」⋮

❝  ── what did shield do now, maria?  ❞

at least — she can assume it’s shield. call it INTUITION — or perhaps her own, internalized assumptions, but if maria hill is cursing to ava about something or other — it oftentimes has to do with the very agency she loathes. and the complaints made are usually about ava, herself, too. yet without any knowledge, she cannot place a reason why — unless something happened with the agent’s personal life? but — issues between herself and the black widow were often kept, as most shield information goes, completely CLASSIFIED. regardless of the reason, hand’s reach up with splayed fingers, displayed palms  ──  a white-flag raised, as she muses, 

so. it might have been—- a little bit of a mistake to get—- well. sopping, falling over drunk. ( a little? try. a big mistake. huge mistake. she knows how she is. her addictive personalty. ) but. well. in her defense? it had seemed like the best course of action after— everything. everything being jessica jones. ( jessica fucking jones. of course. trish was concerned and emotional over all her friends. jessica was the only person who could make a mess out of trish. well. jess and daimon. )            “ you’re the sweetest— bestest person, ava—- “ she’s. groaning it out as the other woman takes her home— helps set her down on her toilet and trish moans into her own hands— shudders a moment. “ way too sweet and nice for me. i’m such a mess. fuck— i got shit faced! haha! jess would love this! i just gave her shit for drinking and look at me! “ she cackled into her hands now— then. pauses. moaned again before moving to wrap her arms around ava and tilt her head into her neck.           “ —-water. please. maybe an aspirin. thank you— you’re sooo good. i mean it, the nicest. my avie. “

never before has ava starr needed to care for another person but herself. her entire life, from the tragedy onward, was characterized by a desperate, insatiable need for SURVIVAL, a sharp-toothed, gnawing hunger crying out in pain. AGONY.      (  it hurts. it always hurts  ).     yet even her own self-care, she knows, is a two-person job. whether it be bill foster. or janet van dyne. or maria hill. or anyone else — it’s a challenge to be completely, irrevocably independent when she awakes most mornings feeling like nothing more than a fading ghost, a shell of a person — when steady hands need to brush her teeth or hold her fork because ava, herself, cannot. so perhaps there is a sort of  VINDICATION  in all of this — this role reversal — patricia, in her drunken stupor, strewn on the bathroom tile, needing, of all people, ava’s help.

「   ❝  →  fuck, i’m so wasted.  ❞  」⋮

how is she supposed to help her drunk friend when ava can barely manage to keep her held upright —? it takes every, reserved ounce of her focus to keep herself TANGIBLE, patricia’s arm strewn over ava’s shoulder as the ghost hobbles them towards her manhattan safe house. one elevator ride later and the familiar ding invites them into her humble abode, but ava takes little more than a cursory glance around before trudging them towards the bathroom. care, compassion, concern dull the assassin’s eyes as she nudges her companion towards the vacant toilet lid ──  trembling fingers carefully pulling back patricia’s tattered locks, sticky with liquor and ─  some other bodily fluids she has no desire to place. ava sighs.

{ trigger warnings : mentions/implications of death, abuse, violence/murder, hospitals/chronic illness, & mental illness }

ty’s at it again... this time with one of my fave antagonists from the mceu: ava starr aka ghost.