#radarsensing

“it seems we have a deal. the kingpin is at your service, ms. stacy. and spider-woman is in mine.”

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“I’m not in the mood for games. Show yourself.” @radarsensing

     PUT UP YOUR DUKES, BEE

there’s a mild wave of horror that washes over her when she gets reed’s text, when matt is sitting on the couch — had she completely (apparently) forgotten that she had told reed she was free tonight? it’s a smack of flesh to flesh when the butt of her palm meets her forehead, and there’s not much she can do; reed is on his way and she can’t find it in herself to be rude to either of them. it was an honest mistake; the memory of a goldfish is not serving her well tonight.  with matt’s drink in hand, she wound around the couch, putting the glass on the table with a sound to let him know where it was. one leg shifted under her, she rubbed her palms against her thighs, soft skin exposed by the old school gym shorts she chose to wear.  ❝ so, here’s the thing.. i forgot we were hanging out tonight, please don’t hate me. reed richards is coming over too. please don’t hate me. ❞

❝ i cannot believe you don’t think die hard is a christmas movies. how are we friends? ❞

          “This shouldn’t feel so weird for me, but it does. It’s sad,” Peter commented from the lip of the brickwork building, his glowing lenses staring off into the gentle bustle of the city streets below. The streets. A place that, not by implicit choice, had become something of a foreign land to the once-proud patroller. The last year of his life had been so grand, so far beyond any expectation, that not even he could quite wrap his head around it. A bank account with more zeroes than he could have pictured a year ago. New love. Leadership. A scrap with a cosmic entity. Now, he was back to where it all started, at least for the night. By his side was Matt Murdock, a man who had become something of a neglected friend. Globetrotting had consumed his life, and his closest relationships had certainly suffered.           The faint smell of car exhaust and piss filled the neighborhood air, the building they say on was decrepit and decayed, but soon filtered out by a device in his mask. The wall-crawler had to wonder just how badly it played on his senses, how offensive the scents of the city must be each night and every day. “Does this make me a sellout? Going global while there’s still trouble in the streets?” Though it wasn’t visible under his mask, Peter wore a sideways frown, still casting his gaze down below into Hell’s Kitchen. With a soft sigh, the filter retracted into its place.