#lcvesdeath

          THE MOMENT THEY WERE DISMISSED AFTER TRAINING YESTERDAY,  bradley didn't hang around;  immediately going home as soon as he could.   hangman's words swirled around in his mind the whole journey back,  emotions raw and that unsettling sensation of ADRENALINE crawling through his veins following his outburst and the subsequent altercation.   sure,  he'd had his differences with the fellow pilot  —  that was no secret to anyone  —  but he'd been completely caught off guard when hangman mentioned his father and his untimely demise on the job,  throwing it in his face in front of all the others.   even now,  as he returns to the base  (  he's early today,  but not entirely sure why  )  he still hasn't figured out why it happened.   was it a screwed up way of motivating him to do better?

          it's rare that the other man got the better of him,  with most of hangman's comments rolling off his back,  his disposition remaining firmly composed;  even sometimes giving a little back what he received.   truth be told,  MAVERICK’S return is what had him uneasy,  bringing all sorts back to the surface.   mav's presence as he grew up,  the death of his father...  the pulling of his papers to the naval academy.   clearly,  he hadn't come to terms with some things.   feelings never were his forte.   his anger is less acute after having had time to cool off,  but he can't pretend hangman didn't get under his skin yesterday.   everyone saw it for themselves,  and he can only HOPE they won't mention it and they can all move on;  focus on the mission again.

oooooo, this one is fun to delve into because it's multifaceted, so thank you for that!!!!

when it comes to appearance/being seen by others, i think shiv is usually disregarded with most people. when it comes to the waystar royco brand, outside of logan being the most predominant face, kendall is the one who's had the most media time. he's the "heir with the flair", his face has been on magazine covers, and he's spoken about in the news [due to himself but that's another conversation for another blog of mine]. she's not a real contender for becoming head of waystar royco, so most people— especially in the business world, even dare to glance an eye at her outside of her being logan roy's daughter. when speaking about the political world— it's different. shiv has built a name for herself in the political world with no help from her father; as we all know, he despised shiv's original career because she was essentially playing ball for the enemy via logan's pov. most political adversaries know who shiv roy is, and she's not a force to be reckoned with. [after all, she is a roy— it would be ridiculous to assume politicians don't know who logan roy/ATN/waystar royco are.]

as for whether her reputation rings true to who she is as a person— it depends on the person. for most people, what is said about shiv is primarily true. you might hear she's a bitch because the truth is, she's a bitch. you might hear she's stubborn because the truth is, she's stubborn.

send 🖼️ and i’ll make a moodboard of our muses’ relationship: for @lcvesdeath who requested Klaus & Bonnie

IT'S BEEN ALL ANGST EXCUSE YOU / @lcvesdeath

@lcvesdeath​ asked  “They’ll never apologize. You have to know that.” from klaus

Browns flit dangerously toward the hybrid; he may have been her superior in age but she was still a commander and this was HER territory. Though her armies recent losses had her control over the area dwindling. Such losses she suspected could be, in part, attributed to the growing number of werewolves in the area. “I do not need apologies, Señor Mikaelson, what I need is consequences.” She turns to face him, chest puffed out readied for war. Her default, but a stance she felt necessary to hold against a worthy adversary. “If you do not discipline your dogs soon then I will be forced to make an example. I may be pretty but my punishment....is not, comprende?” 

The smile should absolutely terrify him. He should register the way the air shifts, how the moment changes as Jake's cold smile settles into place. Maybe he does notice, but Bob can't find it in himself to care that he won't be able to take any of his words back - that he's toeing the edge of an impossibly fine line into unabashed recklessness and stupidity. He won't be scared off by whatever dickish remark Jake has to say in response.

He can handle it - tonight and tomorrow, when the inevitable hangover crashes and drags him under. He doesn't think he'll regret this.

And then he's pushed backwards, limbs too uncoordinated to put up any sort of fight. The world blurs, the movement too sharp for him to follow. His glasses crunching under Jake's heel doesn't help. An undignified sound leaves his lips as he's shoved against the wall. He wills the world back into focus. Bob breathes hard through his nose and wrenches his head to free himself from Jake's strong grasp. It connects with the brick behind him. Hard.

Dazed, he blinks away the stinging tears. He doesn't notice the blood welling at his lip, bitten during his harsh movement. Electricity buzzes just under his skin. It's not the same high he gets when he's flying, when blue sky blends together with ocean hues in an indecipherable mix. It's thrilling, addicting, and worth the chase all the same. "You're not Maverick, either."

"No one cares what happens to you," he continues, unshrinking. It's the first lie he's told tonight. They survived the impossible, that required trust. "No one's watching your back. Not up there and not when you step into a big chicken dinner." Bad conduct discharge. Rare as they were, it was a reminder that what they did on the ground mattered. Even with out it, brass could find any reason to keep them from flying. Their skills were unmatched, they had proven that, but Bob knows politicking and egos often took precedence. If the rumors were to be believed about the Dagger Squad being made permanent than they were all under increased scruntiny. Sometimes, all brass needed was an excuse to set something in motion - or halt it all together.

starter call  |  @lcvesdeath for gale

The ward in Thirteen was sterile, cold, white-walled: from the small time Annie had spent outside of the hospital, the rest of the bunker was the same way. The air tasted of nothing at all, the numbness of snow and cold, filtered twelve times through the air vents to rid it of anything that could possibly make it interesting, and the absence of scent made her feel encased in cotton wool. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. The constant humming of technology around her helped her sleep, like the rushing of waves outside the hull of her boat at home, and there was something about the control of the environment, the precision and predictability of the temperature, the crisp sheets and gentle pulse of the heart moniter, that was soothing. None of this, of course, made up for the absence of the sea.

She doubted she would ever see Four again. She had had to come to terms with that once before, when she had volunteered: then it had seemed like an easy sacrifice, missing the sea in return for victory or glory. Now she knew better. There was little that was more important to her, except...and that thought pattern was dangerous, that was when her calm would leave her, and the screaming would begin, and the neatly dressed nurses would come running with their needles and fluttering hands and soothing words and quick, savage movements, pinning her down. Annie preferred to allow her thoughts to gently gloss over any difficulties like where is he and what is happening to him, and remain in the here and now. It was safer not to remember.