INCORRUPTIBLE.

“super helpful, thanks,” it’s the extreme sarcasm that comes out of your mouth and, like, you’re not super amazed. your guess is as good as mine. but you should probably be freaked out, considering whoever the fuck this is they give you some weird vibes and you can’t tell what you’re both looking at. new york sure is a hell of a place, isn’t it? and you’re definitely not settling at all, because you’re about to hit the, like, second time today the acid tab’s turned around and bit you in the ass. (the other day you accidentally touched the one in your purse and it got on your fingers and then it all made sense.)

she touches you and you blink dizzily when she holds the paper towel to your temple. it’s cold and there’s a trickle of blood down your cheek and you open your mouth to tell her to fuck the fucking fuck off but your eyes won’t focus. your eyes won’t see her at all. you hear her talking about how fuckin crazy mother is and you want to tell her yeah you’re preaching to the choir, asshole but she’s already ushering you to the bathroom.

when you sit on the sink your whole head dips down to let her keep touching you. mostly, it’s because you’re fucking sad and fucking tired. mostly, it’s because you’d do anything to just-- feel fine. even for a second. even if it’s with fucking her, her you barely know.

@itsnotpatsy​ asked: [ lift ] for your muse to give mine a hand stepping up or over something etc.

it’s a whole new perspective to see trish in a new light. broad day, a lunch date, so she told herself, with no masks, gear, thugs, or cops involved. as of right now, they’re normal. just like everyone else passing them by on the street; normal to the naked eye. it’s nice. comfortable. a life anastasia wish she could have had if things turned out different.

trish always had better taste when it came to places to eat, wine and dine herself, anastasia just happened to be tagging along. trish looking beautiful as always, no matter how casual she may dress, there would always be something ever so elegant about her. bundling herself up in her coat, reaching up to adjust her beanie with the wind biting and nipping at her cheeks, she let out a tired huff. tall people, they’re exhausting to keep up with, and now they’ve got stairs to tread upwards through. this food better be killer, patsy.

when trish offers her hand, it catches anastasia off guard.

a pause, paired with a blink as gust of hot air clouded her vision of trish. she’s just being nice. but also knowing you, you’d trip from wanting to race up the stairs. you’re not being tracked, you’re not being followed, you can breathe.

    cue a gentle smile as a gloved hand rested in trish’s, a hesitant step onto the first of many. smiling relaxing into a smirk, anastasia couldn’t resist a chuckle. “ you that worried i was gonna trip? we’re not all as balanced as you. but thank you. ”

breathing is so weird. so weird. you haven’t ever understood this. you don’t know how to live a comfortable life. you don’t know how to smile or laugh without looking over your shoulder. you don’t know how to be around or with someone without constantly being hounded by cameras. but there are no cameras here. in a place like hudson yards? no one tracking you. or her. you can live in this quiet crowd-- does that make sense? (no. it doesn’t. and it’s stressing you out. but you can disappear into this-- you both can.)

the structure is huge. brand new. glinting in the sun. way tall. you’re so glad you both like heights and don’t mind them.

“i still fall on my face just as much as the rest of you,” it’s a little huff-- a little grace kelly huff, or a scoff a little like audrey hepburn’s throughout-- throughout-- my fairy lady. the air’s a little puff of white, clouds drifting out of your mouth and then up and away. winter in new york is nothing if not beautiful. and maybe it’s a little bitter cold to be out in this, but somehow it’s perfect. “i promise the exercise will be worth it. chef’s table at belcampo worth it.” if that’s a little too platinum spoon for her taste-- you didn’t think that through.

“  kay.   &  thank goodness . cause it actually explains  ..  alot of things !   ”   considering going in a loop from a unfamiliar new york city  ..  really explains so much .

             “  yeah .  back in my universe ..  earth - 65 .    ”   gwen replied , before widen eyes that she knows .  but isn’t too surprised knowing who many spider theme heroes are out there .   “  the names’ webspider  ..  &  you are ?   ”

“webspider. i don’t know you here. unless i do? who ever knows with us masks.” 

      She wasn’t sure that she had even expected an answer. These days, she didn’t garner a huge amount of respect in and out of her community. They had just endured so much. Kara really couldn’t blame them. Still, the words, even if they were a little brusk – let her breathe for the first time it felt like in forever. Oxygen in her lungs wasn’t as vital as it was more most others scattered around the bar. ( when was the last time she’d taken a deep breath? ) She couldn’t quite remember. 

            Kara felt a quiver on her lips, a tremulous smile, fighting to take control. If she could smile– then maybe everything else would fall into place? Seemed sound enough logic for the Kryptonian at the moment. 

        “Good point,” she managed, licking her lips and gradually pushing the glass away with slender, unblemished fingers. Hands that never showed much sign of the battering they endured. “I ah– needed some perspective.” Reaching out a hand, she placed it over Trish’s own, just enough to off some sort of cemented appreciation that touch could convey when words lapsed. 

                  “And you are hardly out of your young years if I am in them– I was stuck in an interplanetary dimension for a good, what? twenty-plus years.” Not that a number mattered. “It was just hard to see the good of the work when everything is so unforgiving– but luckily, hope never runs dry.” 

“no. hey, no, it doesn’t.”

she’s good for you, you think, and it’s a strange, very doctor bloom thought. you think about how she’d be proud of you for both those lines of consideration. kara’s eyes are very, very blue, and she has maybe the softest, prettiest face you’ve ever seen. your ears are a little red at the thought, but you settle into it comfortably with another smile. this one is bigger-- human teeth, feline fangs still coming in.

“we do the best we can with what we have on any given day. all you can do is your best. maybe you have to pull back-- slide your thought process under the microscope. maybe that’s the problem. maybe you could use-- showing up to play hopscotch with a bunch of kids up on 1-6-2,” did anybody know you say the numbers separately because it makes you feel like a covert ops spy? well, mostly to prep for your future covert spy life (fingers crossed). “you need to do something for you. something to make just you happy. not the whole world. just kara.”

>> @itsnotpatsy​  (  ♡  /  new earth , who this ?   )

                     “  um , excuse me ?  do you mind telling me what DIMENSION – er , EARTH this is ?   ”  OOF .  probably not the best way to ask a complete stranger about dimensional hopping .

you definitely recognize that you’re absolutely going to die, or that you could’ve died, because the weapon materializes and your body suddenly zaps with paranoid electric energy. but then she lurches back and you’re too smart, too careful, so you stay so very, very still. in fact, you kneel, quietly, one knee and then the other, and you place both your palms on the floor. okay. see? okay. not dangerous, i promise. it’s okay.

“sorry. you were making... you sounded upset. i heard you from--“ outside? yes, that’s what she means. it’s that keen feline hearing of hers, so zeroed in it’s horrifying. “--downstairs. outside. i’m sorry. hey. hey. it’s only me, hela. just trish walker. that’s it.” cowl off, in fact, see? short, messy, fluffed gold hair made an absolute disaster by your outfit. “just trish.”

you don’t know if that means anything to her.

you’re still buzzing, too. grappling with your ears trying to turn off, desperate to go half-deaf to get away from the fear. you refuse to let it.