--- dark lights, shine bright

          “ i want a cookie, not a boyfriend “ chocolate chip, warm and freshly baked. fuck YES, she would take a god damn BISCUIT over dating, any day… jesus christ, she’s hungry. 

for @ofruffians miami medical season 1 episode 8??

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “Jesus, I wasn’t hinting. You’re only in for more disappointment because I can give you neither.”

What started as an incredibly aggressive introduction turned to something slightly more pleasant. If she was being honest, she was surprised by it. It was hard for someone like Carly to take a step down from being aggressive; she had been a rough girl her entire life. She was the girl sent home from school for kicking another girl’s shin when she said something to Carly that she didn’t like. While her mother never cared ( she was so hung over or sick that she never even KNEW ), at least her brothers would get Carly to calm down and at least try to see some reason. How she wasn’t ever expelled was a mystery to her.. “You must be the black sheep of the Irish community because I heard they’re a damn good time.” She smirked before nodding ahead of her, towards the woods. “So, Irish bloke, where are you holed up? In one of those camps or are you a lone wolf like I presume you are?”

Whoever this woman was, she had succeeded in doing something very few -- if any -- people had managed. Being passive aggressive, or even straight up aggressive during first encounters was always how it went; cracking a smile was rare for him in general, but the first time meeting a new person? Never. It made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn’t sure he had fully experienced, and so Garth tried his best to shove it back down to the deep of him where it belonged. Keeping piercing eyes like weapons on the female in case she decided to throw any more surprises at him. “Ah see, that just means you’re judging too early.” He let out a cough. “Yeah, I just do my own thing. Those camps don’t interest me.” His chin tipped up at her. “Yourself?”

Yeah.. Garth was a sight for sore eyes. If for no other reason than the man was so fucking ridiculously attractive that you’d barely believe it was an apocalypse out there. Even with the scratch of his dark facial hair and the way his hair was just slightly overgrown, he was still fucking prettier than her. Her lips curled in a rueful smile at the thought despite Garth’s angry gaze and the pain that radiated through her side. She could just hear Gwen and Alexi now, scolding her that her shit would have been healed better if she had just stayed, had just taken it easy. But she couldn’t really do that. She had been overstimulated with being checked on, taken care of, it wasn’t something she was accustomed to, and the entire time she was forced to stay with Alexi, she teetered between annoyance and the underlying thoughts that if she kept being a burden to them, they’d eventually kick her out on her fucking ass. So she left first. She left, and she got drunk, and did the only thing Cassidy Poe really knew how to do, self destruct by ignoring her injuries and acting as if she were indestructible.

She could feel his gaze, dark and angry and glaring daggers into her, and as she explained exactly what had happened, she resolutely refused to meet that gaze. Knowing damn well that the more she said, the more fucking stupid she looked. And Garths first words, and that fucking slow, almost contemptuous tone only proved her thoughts. At that, her eyes narrowed, fierce and annoyed up at him as her expression shifted into one of sullen defiance. Lips pursing and fingers gripping the bottle more tightly. “My car.” She stated. As if that was the one thing that made everything make sense. And it did. To her. And to most people that knew her. It had been hers. Hers. From before she’d come here, before she’d been battered and brutalized and turned into what she was now. Defensively, her chin jerked angrily toward his shoulder. “If I’m remembering right, Irish, you’ve fucked yourself up for something someone tried to take from YOU.” Granted, this defense wasn’t the best. Considering she’d been the one that tried to take his gun, and managed to take his gun. And leave that scar of a bitemark on his shoulder, and possibly break his jaw. But still. She guessed there was a point somewhere in there.

As he bit out that her hands weren’t broken, her defiant gaze shifted into a roll of her eyes. Yeah. He was really pissed, and making goddamned sure she knew it. “I was going to share it with you, but if you’re going to pout like a fucking three ye-” Suddenly, a loud sound ripped through the bunker. Shit, it wasn’t even a sound as much as a rumble of impact that felt almost like a fucking earthquake. In shock and surprise, the redhead forgot her wounds for a moment, the bottle of whiskey crashing to the ground and shattering, as she jerked hard upright, only to recoil as pain ripped through her, with a sharp cry that was more feral than anything as she doubled over on herself. The cry turning into a wheezy exhale as the breath was robbed from her and her hand clutched hard over her right side. Knees hitting the floor where the whiskey had fallen, the remnants of the alcohol dampening her knees and the long edges of red hair that fell forward, hitting the pool of whiskey and covering her face.

His temper was not a raging sea; he had learned from years and years of experience of anger that letting it all out at once sometimes didn’t have the best effect. Though even Garth could lack control sometimes, like at this particular moment, when his fists were clenched far too tight that they were starting to shake. Sometimes he wondered whether all of this time of holding it together inside of him would soon be too much and he would crack altogether. That certainly wouldn’t be pretty, and would he even feel better for it? If Garth Callaghan was split down the middle, it would be surprising to see more than a cold and hollow center. It sure as hell felt more like ice running through his veins rather than warm blood.

There never seemed to be a stopping point on his form of cruelty; of his fury. If he could somehow stop himself from tipping over the edge, would he? As usually there wasn’t a great excuse for how far he could go. It had a way of simply gushing out of the man with no thought. Something that came so naturally was never going to be exactly subtle. Still torn to bits, she still had it within herself to somewhat smile. What was it she saw when she looked at him and was it anything like how he saw himself? “That’s different,” Garth retorted back at her and to him, his weapons were more valuable than any vehicle could ever be, but that was him. Of course, he had always struggled seeing other people’s points of view.

The image in front of him seemed to register before even the sound did; a petite redhead crashing in on herself and seeming more animal than woman. His own features contorted with confusion and with something almost like pain what with the jarring noise. A long line of curses spilled from his mouth as he crouched, placing one hand on her arm. The only word that came out at first was her name -- he didn’t know what to say. His jeans at the knees were growing damper as he knelt in the alcohol. “I don’t know what the hell that was, but you better get up. Slowly. Lean on me.” It would serve him right if she were to instantly recover and simply kick him down again.

margaret atwood sentence starters.

❛ i used to say i’d know you anywhere, but it’s getting harder. ❜ 

❛ search instead for the others, the ones left over. ❜ 

❛ it was not what he had in mind. ❜

❛ i exist in two places, here and where you are. ❜

❛ love is choosing. ❜

❛ all people are driven to the point of eating their own gods. ❜ 

❛ screw poetry, it’s you i want. ❜

❛ leave me alone, this is my winter. i will stay here if i choose. ❜ 

❛ you are as innocent as a bathtub full of bullets. ❜ 

❛ what use is moonlight? ❜

❛ only we could call it a wound. ❜

❛ only we can regret the perishing of the burned place. ❜

❛ and now it’s in you, secrecy. ❜ 

❛ i wish to show you the darkness you are so afraid of. ❜

❛ when the appearances of things have left you, you will still have this darkness. ❜

❛ memorize it. you will know it again in your own time. ❜

❛ this darkness is a place you can enter and be as safe in as anywhere. ❜

❛ it’s a wonder either of us believed a word the other said. ❜

❛ i feel like the word shatter. ❜

❛ the two of us were - by our own admission - proficient and shameless liars of long standing. ❜

❛ knowing that the work is mine, how can i love you? ❜

❛ a truth should exist, it should not be used like this. ❜

❛ i stand in the presence of the destroyed god. ❜

❛ as for the sun, there are as many suns as there are words for sun. ❜

❛ if i love you, is that a fact or a weapon? ❜

❛ i would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary. ❜

❛ what are you supposed to do with all this loss? ❜

❛ life goes more smoothly without a heart. ❜

❛ knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you. ❜

❛ where do you draw the line between love and greed? ❜

❛ you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened. ❜

❛ can’t you be both? ❜

❛ now that i’m dead i know everything. ❜

❛ whoever said that light was life and darkness nothing? ❜

❛ welcome back, my darling. ❜

❛ in exile, survival is the first necessity. ❜

❛ i will not come when you call. ❜

❛ we must resist, we must refuse to disappear. ❜

❛ we touch as though attacking. ❜

❛ we should be kind, we should take warning, we should forgive each other. ❜

❛ if you get hungry enough, they say, you start eating your own heart. ❜

❛ to put a hand on another is to touch death. ❜

❛ you collapse my house of cards merely by breathing. ❜

❛ there’s no love here. maybe it’s the boredom. ❜

❛ i know you’re there, even when i can’t see you. ❜

❛ i began to forget myself in the middle of sentences. ❜

❛ we are hard on each other and call it honestly. ❜

❛ our choices turn them criminal. ❜

❛ the beauty is an illusion, and also a warning. ❜

❛ farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. ❜

❛ solid flesh can never live up to the bright shadow cast by its absence. ❜

❛ whether they are dead or not is a moot point. ❜

❛ that, or a bleary hopeless love. ❜

❛ speaking of which, its the smiling tires me out the most. ❜

❛ not that anyone here but you would understand. ❜

❛ is it suffering or goodness that makes them holy or can anyone tell the difference? ❜

“Come to weigh in on the matter, Hephaestus. How very big of you.” Being the goddess of truth, Aletheia truthfully had to admit how much she loved to tease and bother Hephaestus. They had neither gotten along nor hated one another ( at least on her end ) but instead it was conversations that usually left her entertained to say the least. “Zeus I deem to be impulsive but I don’t think that is the reasoning. However, you’re his son. Wouldn’t your father be so proud if you learned the truth about his punishment and set it right? I imagine you’d be deemed in highest regards. I can help with that. I’d like to, at least. Wouldn’t we make quite a pair?”

He sucked in a breath; annoyance practically needling into his aura. The way these mortals showed their true feelings through such small mannerisms was strange. Conversations like this always seemed to have somewhat of a hold on the God, ones he wasn’t quite sure he could win and yet definitely wanted to. Perhaps it was more of a subtle fight than a conversation. “Proud? Don’t you believe that Zeus would prefer to keep this mystery about himself? He set the punishment for a reason, Aletheia. Unless I would help with the punishment, I can’t say so. I dare say we would make a ghastly pair.”

          “there is no need to be quite so rude, hephaestus,” she shot back  ——  - usually pure eyes flashing with an annoyance as she bristled at being brushed aside as if she were a mere fly upon his brow.    “have you considered that perhaps i wasn’t exactly speaking directly to you - but rather to myself ? ”   she turned her tiny frame towards his, hands perched on her hips.

        “i’m rather concerned about the fact that my mortal body will wax and wane with years upon this floating rock and i will die and fade into nothing.     i, for one, would rather not have that happen.    now, if you are intent on being so rude and short tempered at a simply question - i shall excuse myself to better company, hephaestus.”

“Rudeness was not my intention.” Though even as he says it, there is a slight huff from him and the hairs on his body rise with irritation. He was the same person, it was really no surprise that his problems with anger had transferred over into his mortal self. “Sometimes the truth just comes across that way.” Amusement entered his eyes, but he refused to show much more than that. “Then I would doubt your mental wellbeing, Astraea.”

Immediately.. the moment her gaze fell on that thatch of wind-tousled dark hair, Medusa’s eyes softened. An expression that could seemingly turn men to stone even without her magical powers.. became warm.. almost gentle in as she shifted and turned on the rock. “Hephaestus.” She spoke, paying no heed to the mortal name he’d chosen for himself as the woman pushed herself off of the rock, into the calf-deep water. Soft black material trailing after her in the water like a serpent’s tail and clinging to her legs as her slight form fought against the ebb and wan of the water’s pull.

Her hair, usually so vivid red was the color of deep blood as it clung wetly to pale skin and red lips curled into a smile that had been absent from her harsh features only moments before. A smile reserved for the blacksmith god alone, it seemed. His features were jarring.. dark and brooding and capable of a cruelty Medusa knew too well.. but ugly? Certainly not that.. certainly not to Medusa.

The way she approached him, it seemed as if she were going to embrace him with that smile and the way slender arms outstretched.. but as the ocean slowed her struggle, by the time she approached him, her fingers gripped his shirt instead, watching the way the salt from the sea stained his skin and hair with traces of white. Instead of the embrace, one hand lifted, thumb swiping traces of the salt from his cheek as her brows arched, almost playfully. “Oh, I can hazard a guess to what you want, σιδηρουργό.” She stated, drinking in his rugged appearance. It was something new.. almost thrilling, to be able to look at him for as long as she wished without the threat of turning him to the very granite that his hands did such magic with. “But I don’t think you’ll find your immortality in these waves..”

It was enough for his breath to catch; a sickeningly human feeling that was in no way familiar to him. Breathing was nothing new, but being aware of each and every single intake of air certainly was. It was enough to know that something changed in his throat at the sight of that expression. A soft look from someone who wasn’t soft or vulnerable in the slightest; did he actually know how lucky he was to see such a miracle? Half of him was convinced he would die right there on this beach on earth, all because of a single glance. For the first time in eternity it felt like Hephaestus knew what all those men must feel right before they turned to immovable stone. Hypnotized. Helpless.

His eyes were orbs that refused to blink upon seeing such great beauty. She had never been a monster to him, not even when she was capable of doing great damage to even the most powerful. It could be that he found Medusa more beautiful when she was a hazard to every living thing. He had never been one for the conventional, after all. Hadn’t every single thing he had made had a touch of oddness to it? Something that resembled him in its lostness.

For some reason beyond his own knowledge, Hephaestus still felt like he had to somewhat brace himself as he watched the other growing ever nearer to him. She was just a woman in this form, but she never felt like simply that to him. There was an intensely complex past that made her who she was, after all. The thumb that touched his cheek was strikingly gentle, and he found one of his own workers hands tracing down her arm. These bodies were nothing if not interesting; confusing. “Aren’t I allowed to witness the sea like the average sailor would? It looks very different down here, you know.”

“Well, there must be one at fault. If not one, a few. It cannot be all of us who have angered Zeus this harshly. Tell me; what is it you know of this?” Brows arched, hips jutted; it was far easier settling into a mortal body than Aletheia had ever considered possible. While being mortal wasn’t by any means pleasant, she dared to argue that it was a new sensation she was appreciating for the moment. Still, being the personified goddess of truth, Aletheia would stop at nothing to learn of who was at fault for their ungraceful fall from the skies.

He listened to the prattling of the one before him; a furrow appearing in between his brow. Hephaestus had no power to see into his father’s mind -- nobody had. Yet since being on earth it had seemed the only thing the rest had been interested in learning. “More than simply a few, I suspect. It is also possible that it was just a bad day for him and a spontaenous decision, yet that wouldn’t explain why we’re still down here.” He couldn’t help but regret indulging in the conversation, knowing that between them it would more than likely be a neverending debate.

              ⚜ I M M O R T A L S       A S K      M E M E ⚜

“they are cowards, they hide behind masks”

“to those whom much is given, much is lost.”

“this is your last embrace. look at me. look at me! i’m the last thing you will ever see… witness hell.”

“we must tread carefully here. heed the law, none of the mortals on earth should witness us in our immortal form.”

“i wish i hadn’t of had that.”

“the sea has always been an unpredictable domain”

“his pain has just begun.”

“by doubting, one comes the truth”

“deeds are eternal, not the flesh”

“all men’s souls are immortal, but the souls of the righteous are immortal and divine.”

“my kind’s blood is the same colour as yours. shall we spill some to prove it?”

“during times of peace, the sons bury their fathers, but in war it is the fathers who send their sons to the grave.”

“fight for your future! fight for your children! fight for your immortality!”

“to whom much is given, much is asked.”

“let’s write history… with blood!”

“the gods. go ahead, call upon them. pray.”

“being a warrior is not just being able to strike your opponent down with a sword. it’s finding good reason to draw your sword in the first place.”