#coolcattm

Q :  if  you  had  to  encompass  the  album  in  a  short  summary ,  what  would  you  say?

A :   i’ve  been  through  a  lot  in  my  short  life ,  more  than  most  could  ever  imagine.  from  death  to  raising  myself  because  my  mother  couldn’t  even  look  at  me  to  an  abusive  relationship  with  a  cult  leader  and  then  where  i  sit  now  in  success  doing  what  i  love  with  the  most  amazing  group  of  talented  guys  i  could  ask  for.  i  always  say  that  i’ve  kept  a  record  of  the  wreckage  of  my  life––––  and  that’s  exactly  what  this  album  is.  it’s  an  ode  to  a  life  that  raised  me  feral  and  sharpened  my  teeth  well  before  i  should’ve  had  to  use  them.

𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀  𝙄𝙎  𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍  𝙂𝙊𝘿  𝙉𝙊𝙒?      •      click  to  stream  now !

note :   this  is  not  an  actual  album ,  but  rather  a  curated  playlist  of  songs  covered  by  a  couple  of  singers  /  bands  i  headcanon  as  her  vocal  range  as  well  as  bubba’s  and  mickey’s.  in  this  verse ,  these  are   not   covers.  the  songs  do  not  exist  by  the  original  artist  but  instead  by  jackie’s  band.

and  the  tweet  in  question :

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠.    /   @coolcattm​​ said :  [ GAZE ] -- right before the kissing begins, sender gazes at receiver's lips, then back up at their eyes, waiting for them to make a move or give confirmation. ( oops. tj )

SHE’S TOLD HIM TIME AND TIME AGAIN THAT SHE’S A LOST CAUSE WHEN IT COMES TO THIS, BUT HE KEEPS TRYING ----------- she’s never been able to see what he does when they look at the same piece when it comes into the gallery (   sure, the fact that she sees them as a TOOL OF THE TRADE now; a way for her to gather intelligence puts them in a very non - romantic kind of light. she doesn’t have them around her for beauty or meaning ------- these paintings aren’t meant to hang on her wall and have her ADMIRE them.   )

but she’s always been more matter - of - fact than imaginative; at least when it comes to something like this. it’s been an ASSET to her more times than she can count in her career, but now that she has to feign an extensive art opinion to keep her cover, being able to speak to something in terms of BLACK AND WHITE only serves her if it’s a picasso she’s trying to push.

so here they stand, side by side, her arm curled around his while she tries to sort out what kind of SMALL TALK she’s going to have to make with one of coy’s reps when they’re in later that night. (   her confidence and her ability to THINK ON HER FEET is only going to take her so far with this one. he knows his art.   ) but after the second run - through it still sounds like she’s bullshitting (   which ... she is   ), and if she can’t convince herself now, how is she supposed to convince a crime lord with a taste for 

                “i still don’t know how you do it,” she sighs, running her free hand through her hair before squinting at the canvas again, as if doing so will make things EASIER. “seeing beauty in something like this. it’s rough and complicated and -------- i don’t think my brain’s ever going to work that way.” it’s around then she realizes that he’s looking at HER and not the painting anymore, the corner of his mouth turned UP like he knows something she doesn’t. (   which doesn’t narrow things down ---- he knows a lot of things she doesn’t.   ) 

                “what’s that for? am i that bad?” a canine snags her bottom lip, watching the way the questions only make that curl of his mouth grow. she knows that look --------- knows WHERE he’s looking, too --------- he doesn’t try to hide the way his eyes keeping flickering UP and then back down again, and she won’t call him on it either. instead she goes about lifting her chin up to encourage him to come just a little bit closer, and when he leans in to KISS HER, it almost makes her forget what she still has to do later tonight. (   she doesn’t exactly what him to STOP either.   )

The way Ian’s presence comforts Mel is like a drug. His proximity has hair on her skin rising, her pulse thundering in her ears. Yet all she hears is every creak the bed sounds out beneath his moving form. Ian’s taken his time in making love to her, not that she minds. The time will come for her to reciprocate. But until then she is content laying back and basking in his love. 

𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞.   /   @coolcattm​ said :  🤝🏼 + 21 -- in a rush of adrenaline. ( from tj hehe )

HE KNOWS AS WELL AS SHE DOES WHAT’S WAITING FOR THE BOTH OF THEM IF HER COVER’S BLOWN ---------- enemy of the state is going to sound downright DIMINUATIVE next to what the black market here in hightown will call her; and whatever bounty’s waiting for her back stateside will be pocket change. still; once a spy, always a spy ------------------- it’s engrained in her by now. it’s always going to be there in the back of her mind, wheels turning, even when the situation continually tempts her to SHUT IT OFF and just be BLISSFULLY UNAWARE for once in her life. 

(   and if there was ever one of those times, it’s now ------- walking through the market that pops up at the end of every month, fingers LINKED with his while they try to find that one stand that sells the laksa she’s been talking his ear off about for the last two weeks.   )

so of course it ISN’T MEANT TO BE ------------------ a face in the crowd that is immediately out of place; instantly familiar for all the wrong reasons --- a former COLLEAGUE at SHIELD who’d turned out to be as untrustworthy as they come (   AND YET SOMEHOW SHE’S THE ONE MARKED AS PERSONA NON GRATA BACK HOME !  ), and one who could readily ID her out of SPITE let alone a reward. at least she sees him before he does her. 

         “teej,”  we gotta go. she knows better than to all - out RUN; there are enough bodies between them that they should be able to continue to BLEND IN until they get closer to the edges of the crowd. so the tug she gives his hand is SUBTLE as she angles herself in the direction they need to go in, hoping he gets the HINT that their laksa will have to wait. her attention is split between the entrance of the market and glancing behind, making sure the FACE she’d seen hadn’t gone and had his own A - HA MOMENT. too late. and now she thinks she’s seeing two. “shit. we gotta go.”

somewhere in between that last glance over her shoulder and the need to turn a walk into a sprint she loses tijasar’s hand; opting for the closest SIDE STREET in an attempt to disappear into the shadows that no amount of NEON LIGHT in hightown could fully blot out, hoping that he’ll follow ---------------- but it’s only an EMPTY ALLEYWAY BEHIND HER when she glances back again towards the main street, and her stomach can’t help but SINK. (   she knows he’s more than capable of handling a pair of former hydra nobodies attempting to punch well above their weights; it’s just the nagging realization that they both have the raft in their futures if they get caught; and she’s gone and split them up.   )

she turns one corner, then another, keeping close enough to the buildings to trace her fingers along the mortar gaps in between stone squinting for a hint of a landmark to help gauge how far she is from her apartment; from SANCTUARY ------- counting it out in minutes, in steps, and hoping that when she reaches her front door he’s going to be waiting for her. but that hope gets interrupted by a hand around her arm ---- how she manages to keep quiet save for a startled ‘NO’, she isn’t entirely sure ---- and a pulled invitation to join them in the alleyway that culminates with her back against the bricks.