#fxllenone

@fxllen-one

@fxllen-one 

This was a bullshit question that Matt Murdock would have asked her in the middle of a fight --- except he was nowhere to be found and Colleen was looking at a stranger that was… he reminded her a lot of Ward. He had this strange aura around him and she wasn’t much of a fan. But she was drinking in what seemed to be his club, so she threw a shot back and looked him in the eyes.  “You want to know if I have a soul… and if I can prove it?” Colleen shrugged, grabbing a second shot and lifting it up as if to cheer with the man. “Depends on who you ask.” Matt would believe that she had a soul, Danny too, but its corruption was up for debate. And… Colleen couldn’t prove it. “If I do have one, I can’t imagine that it’s pristine.”

@fxllen-one

@fxllen-one

silent actions. @fxllenone

she’s having trouble concentrating on his words.

the sidewalk is overwhelmed, the throng slowed to a crawl around them, effectively caging them in. there are sirens screaming further ahead until there are not, plunging the street into a sudden silence that turns her stomach to rot. the song in her veins that had swung between murmuration & dirge since they stepped out startles into a howling that nearly drops lamb to her knees upon the pavement, prevented only by her fistful of his sleeve to right her.

❝ — valanthē . ❞ a warning, a plea. the howling had made its voice heard often enough times. over the years she had structured her paths to completely avoid hospitals, nursing homes, & the like because the barrage of noise they held within had nearly driven her out of her mind. the calling out of the dying. she rarely reached them in time to ease their exit. the look of betrayal, of hurt, in their glassy eyes in those last seconds of knowing. when she wanted to hurt, she would take those memories from their box in her mind & let them maul her from within.

this is no hospital parking lot, but an oily length of road set before towering brick tenements.

but none ever said that death always keeps to its allotted spaces.

❝ we’ve got to hurry, come on ! ❞ lamb calls, grabbing his hand to drag him along beside her. his height would help to part the crowd & she's doubly thankful that he's here. she shoulders aside a handful of day trippers, of handsomely suited women that nearly knock her back with their briefcases in turn, & finally reaches a line of grim onlookers that turn to her, ashen, before she’s even within arm’s reach. again, the screams from her blood reach such ferocity & pitch that something within her skull audibly pops.

she drops his hand.

upon the concrete is a pool of blood that spreads in uneven fingers outward from its body. a wound in the belly, the size of a hood ornament, a van half upon the sidewalk further up the road. the eyes bulge from their sockets, burning her to the root of her being before snapping to the figure appearing at her side. valanthē. the wild glare to the man's eyes does not fade, but it changes. it is no longer hurt or betrayal that makes them bright, but awe. as if he sees the sun for the very first time in his life.

he goes slack.

❝ oh. ❞ , comes lamb’s voice from somewhere far away. ❝ oh. ❞

there is shouting. weeping.

she is moving backwards. walking away, but refusing to let herself tear free her gaze from the body arranged like a broken doll. she stumbles as she steps from the lip of what must be a curb. hears a droning from her left that doesn’t match the song her blood sings, & anyway the howling has stopped. it’s over. it’s all over.

tires screech sparks upon pavement, a horn blaring shrill in her ear so that she thinks, in those microseconds as she turns, that it’s awfully cruel to make such a loud, awful noise when someone has died. she sees the flash of a panicked face beyond a windshield & then

& then

she is looking up into valanthē’s face, eyes wide, his grip on her so tight she can hardly breathe. reality returns in such a rush that she nearly passes out in his arms.

❝ … i’m sorry. i-i’m so sorry. ❞

@fxllen-one​

There was something about the way he was looking at her that was unnerving. Sharon had thought of herself above those things, above being heartless, above being wanton — but she knew that there was a time when she was. When she was on mission, her heart, her feelings, everything that was Sharon Carter was put to the side in service of the mission. It was more important than her personal morals, more important than whatever Sharon thought — missions relied on people following orders and doing what needed to be done. And relationships came and went like water. Nothing more significant than a moment.

(Or so she told herself. Trip was the exception. And James? Finding what she found with him had felt impossible for so long. Her job and her goals all lined up against having something deeper than a weekend fling and yet... James was the only exception.) 

“Haven’t been that in a long time,” Sharon said without hesitation. “Tell me you weren’t banking on that... because you hit up the wrong girl if so.”

@fxllen-one​

"Men,” Zatanna commented with a sigh, leaning back into her chair at the club. She had come her a few times now, Lux was an interesting place and knowing who owned it made it twice as interesting as it was before. No longer was it just some fancy club with a strange atmosphere, now... it was something familiar. A place were magic and the supernatural unapologetically existed, and Lucifer Morningstar was there to light up the entire room with a personality that could barely fit inside the four walls. “You are all so dramatic,” Zatanna then added, her hand wrapping around her glass as she looked at him. 

“How long have you been here?” She asked, a smirk at the corner of her lips. “You think after all this time they’d send an army of angels after you? To what end? And... what did you do to attract that much attention?” Other than leaving behind the realm he was supposed to rule and come to this plane of existence. But she figured that if he had left hell unmastered this long — what would be the breaking point for his dad to finally come after him.

@fxllen-one​​

Kate’s eyes narrowed on the man. She was liberal about introducing herself as Hawkeye --- it was something she was proud of… but this man? He as judging her for using the name! And Kate was less than amused. “You should wipe that look off your face before I wipe it off for you,” she threatened, though there was no heat in her words --- and really, there was no follow-through. So far at least. Her threat seemed idle. “I mean that’s a lot of crap coming from a guy who is introducing himself as Satan.” Shrugging her shoulders, Kate looked him in the eyes again. Unbothered by his claims. “I mean… it’s one thing to have a porn name, dude. An entirely different thing to go by it in public.”