Jan 14, 2020
SO BILLIE WROTE AND WILL SING THE THEME SONG OF 007 WHATTTT!!
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SO BILLIE WROTE AND WILL SING THE THEME SONG OF 007 WHATTTT!!
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@avocadefense || plotted!
“I didn’t know you were coming over, I would have cleaned up a little,” Karen says, perched on the edge of her sofa with hands clasped between her knees. It’s been a few hours since her last hit, but she can’t exactly excuse herself from her unexpected company to go shoot up in the bathroom. It’s her own fault. Completely lost track of what day it is, that it’s their night to have dinner; her place is a mess. Thank God Matt didn’t come or he would smell it on her. She’s been avoiding him ever since this all started again; they probably think she hates him or thinks he’s responsible for her winding up in the hospital all those months ago. No. This is no one’s fault but her own.
Or the nurses. She could maybe blame the nurses. Don’t give an addict opiates unless they’re dying anyway, a parting gift. And yeah, she was really badly hurt, but she could have toughed it out. Wouldn’t have wanted to, but could have. Instead they gave her fucking Oxy, and she exhaled for what felt like the first time in twelve goddamn years. But she could have weaned herself off the Oxy. She could have. She didn’t have to switch back to old vices once the refills ran out. And yet she did. Almost the second she shook that empty pill bottle she was digging a twenty out of her bag and running for the nearest disreputable alleyway, convinced it was just this once, just for old times. So eager for relief, to get a good night’s sleep. Never learning from her own mistakes.
“Anyway, I’m—not feeling very well,” she finally goes on, no idea how long she paused between one sentence and the next. “I don’t really have an appetite.” He can probably tell as much; she’s dropped at least ten pounds since the accident. “Can I take a rain check?”
liv, doing her homework at nelson & murdock: how do two grown men with law degrees not know how to help with sixth grade algebra?
matt: well--- we---
foggy: the education system is in shambles,
chas, chas, dumb fucking chas. a blind date? really? where’d he get that idea from, some 2002 magazine for tweens? ( that was the exact question he posed, which he was not dignified with an answer ) the theory was simply that john constantine needed to get laid, to which john replied with the fact that he actually got laid quite frequently. but nevertheless, john agreed and went along. dressed in his usual, john heads for the spot, some not super fancy place, but nice enough. john figures he’ll have to resort to one of the many cards up his sleeve in order to pay for the dinner, but that kind of magic he can do in his sleep by now.
part of him is tempted to order a drink at the bar and leave, but what the hell, why not? he’s always been a bit of a nihilist, anyways. john looks around until someone vaguely matching the hints chas gave him catches his eye, and the bloke seems nice enough, maybe too nice? benefit of the doubt it is, then. he sits across from the man, and it already feels so fucking weird, but he’ll continue to play along. ❝ chas set us up, i’m john, figure he never gave you my name. nice to meet ya, mate. ❞
@avocadefense ┊ plotted starter !
--- @avocadefense ---
the evening breeze is cold on his face, which is a sensation he’s not used to paying attention to; so much that he’s not used to pay attention to, he who has been taking this entire world for a grain of sand only, for so long. and it is this REALIZATION, precisely, that has the Soldier stopping as he exits the museum; looking as inconspicuous as he’ll ever be, hands stored in the jacket’s pockets for the sake of keeping the metal one well away from prying eyes. realization that he doesn’t know anything, after all... not about HYDRA, not about his life purpose, not about James Buchanan Barnes --- not about himself. nothing about nothing, from the looks of it. so lost in his inner monologue that he fails to notice this other man approaching, up until the moment he’s right in his field of vision --- and offering no form of reaction thus far, other than the stiffening of shoulders while waiting for what he may have to say.
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@avocadefense ❤ ‘d for sylvia !
❛ who says this has to be our fight ? ❜
@avocadefense from here -
“it’s not a retreat.” matt insists, muttering from the corner of his mouth so as not to get caught - and tossed out of the courtroom - by the judge. “it’s a strategy. just hold on, alright? we’re not going to lose.”
for @avocadefense!
Normally, he doesn’t do this. Speak up about what is clearly other people’s problems. He figures he has enough of his own, and few rarely take his word to heart. (He gets it; his face, his tone, his look - none of it screams BELIEVE ME!) But these two problems he knows fairly well. And they rarely mean good news. So as he dumps just a bit of cream into his coffee, he states, quietly, for the man next to him to hear, “Seem pretty popular with those two over there. Ya’ll the good kind of friends?”