#leatherforhell

@leatherforhell asked: ♡

what byan thinks of your muse

●●○○○ | appreciation for their fashion sense ●●●●● | affection ●●●●● | interest ●●●●● | loyalty ●●●●● | trust

low | ●●●●● | high

ㅤㅤ" clara's... "ㅤthey trail off for several long moments, considering how to put word to their thoughts.ㅤ" ...i dunno. like, in everythin' but blood, she might as well be my sister, y'know? —don't tell 'er i said that, though. "

ㅤㅤ" and 's far as her fashion... don't get me wrong, it can hit, but she seems t' kinda lean comfort over looks. —which, fair, but. also kinda boring, so i can't give high marks. two outta five. "

She doesn't spare a glance, even as the shout rings out.

" hey! hey, no, no. stop! " @leatherforhell yells.

This is probably when she should say something like hey, this isn't what it looks like, the young guy I'm about to stake through the heart is a bloodthirsty monster who will rip your throat out. Those aren't the words of warning she chooses, though. " Get out of here. You don't know what you're fucking with. "

She's careful not to look up for even a second or let the stranger distract her, keeping her weight locked firmly on the vampire, her stake pressing hard enough into him to bruise but not break the skin. Even if it's the smart thing to do, she won't make someone else watch her take a life. Not like she had to.

for‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ very‎ ‎ long‎ ‎ time,‎ ‎ huntress‎ ‎ stares‎ ‎ wordlessly‎ ‎ at‎ ‎ clara,‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ weight‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ gaze‎ ‎ temporarily‎ ‎ making‎ ‎ up‎ ‎ for‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ absence‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ vocal‎ ‎ response,‎ ‎ until‎ ‎ —

“no.”

short,‎ ‎ sweet,‎ ‎ and‎ ‎ to‎ ‎ the‎ ‎ point,‎ ‎ simply.‎ ‎ her‎ ‎ lips‎ ‎ form‎ ‎ a‎ ‎ thin‎ ‎ line.‎ ‎ “you‎ ‎ know‎ ‎ that’s‎ ‎ not‎ ‎ my‎ ‎ kind‎ ‎ of‎ ‎ crime‎ ‎ scene.”

Well, that could've gone better. But at least Robin didn't go down in that confrontation. Knocked around like a pinball though. Yeah his ears were still ringing a little and the unsettled itch was just under his skin so he called in a sensory break. Fifteen minutes should do it. He'd barely settled on his chosen perch when he spotted someone. Cleaning up? Trying to... okay woah!

"Woah there! Here let me help with that. Wouldn't want it to crush you."

He just scared off the mob, he didng want to see a civilian getting crushed by construction rubble. He braced himself alongside the woman. Helped shift the large piece. His arms burned afterwards and he ended up leaning against a low wall to get his breath back. He's built for stealth, damnit, not heavy lifting.

@leatherforhell (thank you!)

It was just some groceries, nothing Fantine couldn't handle herself, but she lets Clara take them anyway. She knows that what that itch to be helpful feels like, so why not indulge the other?

She still has some bags of her own, although she can admittedly see ahead of her now.

"Thanks. I think the elevator's broken, so it probably would have taken me a few trips." And Fantine hated the stairs. It would be fine if it was only a few flights. "Got some of your favourite things too."

@leatherforhell / @altruprism : when were you going to tell me? (from Parker 👀)

" i wasn't . " this is a time one might expect eliot to be yelling ; to clench his fists , grit his teeth , stand his ground . instead , his body language speaks only of resignation . bowed head , slumped shoulders .

it isn't that he's ashamed of what he did . no -- he protected nate . he made sure he was the only one to come out of that warehouse with bloody hands . he did his job .

no , what weighs on him is his promise -- their promise -- that is as clear in his mind as the faces of the people in that warehouse . for better or for worse , we change together . what weighs on him is that he didn't have the guts to come clean . he would've taken that day to the grave .

Send in the Kids! -- @leatherforhell

It's not often he's caught making a mess, and Link's cheeks actually flush at the child's words. Fisted hand rubs a circle sheepishly over his chest. << Sorry. >> he says, mouthing the word at the same time for clarity.

@leatherforhell sent:

“I think you’d better take a break. Are you okay?”

HURT / COMFORT : STARTERS

          🦇—-;; Injuries weren't unfamiliar to him, Bruce knew how to handle them, how to make them seem less of an issue than they actually were. Especially if it meant people were less concerned with him and focusing on others. He was fine, the pain he was in didn't matter as much as everyone else's did. Right now, he's limping, his arm clutched across his chest, holding his shoulder, he did stumble slightly and lose his balance, grunting softly. That was when Clara spoke to him.

He was not okay. But he wouldn't admit that.