#horrorsmade

the pizza is a peace offering. jake balances the box on one upturned palm as he opens brooke's front door with the other. he doesn't bother to knock , to announce himself in any way , simply walks in like he owns the place. jake does make sure to close and lock the door behind him --- crazy times they're living in after all --- and he even kicks his shoes off in the entryway. 'cuz he's considerate like that ... striding towards the kitchen , jake keeps his eyes peeled for any signs that quinn might be lurking around somewhere ( doubtful , but still a possibility ) but so far , so good ... jake knows fully well he can't completely clear his conscience --- brooke would fucking hate him if he did --- but he can make an honest attempt at righting the situation ... even if it means throwing will under the bus in the process. the fucker had gotten a few good punches in on him earlier anyways ...

' yo , brooke !! ' he calls out , setting the pizza box down on the kitchen counter and already moving to grab plates out of the cabinet. ' better get your ass down here before I eat all this pizza by myself !! '

𝗕𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗕   ﹔   various  sentence  starters (   platonic/romantic/antagonistic/etc   )

❝  maybe.  .  .❞

the  laceration  ran  deep, gape of flesh  rendered  elongated  and  uneven,  both  of  them  knowing  it  wasn't miniscule. the agent is careful  to  hold  @horrorsmade  forearm  whilst  carefully  wrapping  a  thick  strip  of  his  own  shirt  he'd torn around  as  a  tourniquet once removing the shard.  no  big  deal.  could  always  afford  another.  and  another  one after  that.

❝  kickin' in the door, and i'm everybody problem. ❞

it's never good when that phone rings ... mike considers throwing it at the wall , flushing it down the toilet , letting oona use it as a chew toy. a hundred options that sound far more enjoyable , more tolerable than actually answering it ... especially when a quick check of the caller ID makes him swear under his breath. the rectangular device vibrates loudly against the coffee table for so long that it had to be mere milliseconds from sending the caller to his not set up voicemail box when mike finally snatches it up and hits the green button. he doesn't even say hello , merely lets the person on the other end start talking immediately. it's pretty much par for the course for his mother ... he paces , phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. his general demeanor seems closer to an inmate on death row talking to his lawyer one last time rather than a son speaking to his own mother , but it doesn't take long for the conversation to go sideways. she's worried about him , she wants to set him up with a therapist. she wants him to come home. as if a little chat , maybe some meds could put him back together and he could step right back into the role of the son they used to know. ridiculous. delusional ... and by the time he hangs up on her , turns the phone off and chucks it onto the couch ( where it will hopefully get lost in the goddamn cushions for awhile ) mike looks like he's walked through a warzone instead of the apartment he shares with sam.

' they say they don't know who I am anymore ... ' he states matter - of - factly , as if reporting the weather ... except it's tinged with a deep seated , unrelenting sadness. he tries for nonchalance , like it was nothing. like this was an every day occurrence. like he's fine with it --- nothing is fine , nothing , nothing , nothing ... ' yeah , me either ... ' he shrugs , an air of what are you gonna do ?? before he plops down onto the couch , his legs bouncing erratically. ' remind me to change my number and not give them the new one ... ' his right hand moves to rub against his eyes for a moment , a long exhale escaping like air leaving a balloon.

@horrorsmade A mistake leads to an awkward fall—someone lands on top of the other. &&wyatt&lucy

lucy had asked wyatt for some fight moves, so she wouldn't be caught off guard again, as she had so many times. he had no problem. whatever was between them, which he could admit was confusing at times, he did care about her, and if he couldn't be there to protect her, he wanted her to be able to do itg for herself. he was about to show her a move, when he tripped over a piece of cardboard on the floor of the bunker, and fell on top of her. he hoped he wasn't crushing her, he found he couldn't move. not because he was hurt, but because he couldn't take his eyes off of her. something about her being under him was... ❝are you alright?❞ he asked forcing words out

markus  carries  himself  with  the  cool  confidence  of  a  leader  who  had  earned  his  place,  suit  and  tie  tailored  to  perfection–  even  if  the  invitation  said  formal,  he  was  anything  but.  another  part  of  carl's  influence  that  he'd  harbour  even  long  after  he  was  gone.

glasses  clinked,  polite  laughter  resounds  with  the  subtle  sound  of  music,  but  everywhere  he  walked  eyes  followed.  he  was the  symbol  of  change.  of  defiance.  of  a  future  that  no  longer  bowed,  but  recognized.  even  celebratory,  there  lingered  an  undeniable  tension  beneath  it  all.  for  androids,  stepping  into  this  building  wasn’t  just  acceptance—it  was  proof.  proof  that  they  had  turned  the  tide,  and  that  even  here,  in  the  heart  of  power,  they  could  no  longer  be  ignored.

his  gaze  drifted  through  the  sea  of  people  until  they  settled  on  her.  @horrorsmade—poised,  unyielding,  yet  luminous  in  a  way  that  no  finery  could  outshine.  she  outshone  them  all.

the  grin  that  forms  came  easy  and  genuine,  his  mismatched  eyes  softened  in  quiet  awe.  extending  his  arm  toward  her,  he  offered  more  than  just  a  gesture  of  formality,  but  wordless  acknowledgment  of  their  bond,  of  battles  fought  and  won  side  by  side.