#roguetm

❛  get a move on, pepe le pew.  ❜  jessica plants a foot down on the crumbling edge of the rooftop. the scuffed heel of her doc marten takes the brunt of her coiling strength before she launches out into the city skyline. her arms wheel  ;  her leather jacket whips in the wind, hair landing in a tousled nest when she hits a soaring height.  

( she still hasn’t quite gotten the hang of the graceful part of flying.  )

eyes drift past her - as if he could see somewhere - beyond. beyond them. beyond now. beyond what either could imagine. a world where they had a place, not separate, not different, not apart, but where they belonged. yet every step towards it he made, there seemed to be a dozen back. this dance has been going on for decades, longer than rogue has even been alive. there’s a faint smile as he draws himself back to the here and now, fingers brush the rim of the tea cup before delicately radiating it to his lips. a hum of thoughtfulness as he sets it down after a long drink.

‘ as ever anna — you are perceptive beyond your years and give wonderful advice. though perhaps for the younger students we will keep our recognition of things going against us to ourselves. political movements like this can be particularly damaging to see the world at large turning against you, particularly as you know when so many at home have already rejected or abandoned us. ‘

charles was always aware the fine balance between bringing the children here and keeping them safe, and educating them, and the risk that he took in that separation. that exclusivity of place was the price for their safety and welcome. yet he knew that some might well suffer for it when they left. a slight sigh, hands falling to the arm rests of his chair, fingers tapping at the smooth material. an endless energy that somehow seems to never fail him, an idea strikes —

                *          &          : @roguetm .           ⟋  accepting .

hope  is  a  tarnished,  forgotten  antique.    it’s  somewhere  in  the  back  of  a  discarded  closet  gathering  stringy  clumps  of  cobwebs    &    a  healthy  covering  of  dust.    in  the  early  days,  it  was  FUEL,  the  kind  of  shining,  perfect  thing  he  looked  at  in  the  corner.  motivation  to  get  up  in  the  morning,  to  keep  pulling  through.  

he  knows  searing  pain,  scrabbling  bundles  of  thoughts  that  no  longer  have  a  rightful  owner.  he  knows  the  lightless  interior  of  the  room  where  his  captors  keep  him    &    his  fellow  prisoners.    

so,  seeing  her  again  is  like  catching  a  gleam  of  silver  creeping  through  blackened,  oxidized  rust.    

his  heart  squeezes.    he  tumbles,  down  to  one  atrophied  knee  in  a  way  so  different  than  what  he’d  planned  before  all  of  this.    

❛    i  didn’t  know  if  i’d  see  you  again.    ❜    wonder  strikes  him  hard  between  the  slots  of  his  ribs.    with  the  film  of  his  callused,  disconsolate  exterior  stripped  away,  he  is  all  tenderness.    the  curl  of  his  palm  hovers  outside  the  ridge  of  her  cheek,  almost  as  though  afraid  to  make  the  connection  lest  she  really  be  some  product  of  his  imagination,  constructed  or  otherwise.    but  the  warmth  radiating  from  her  skin  touches  his  hand.    he  can  see  the  little  hazel  flecks  dotting  between  the  bright  green  in  her  eyes  in  a  pattern  to  difficult,  too  deliberate  to  be  fully  in  his  mind.    

he  knows  he  is  broken,  mottled  in  a  brindle  of  bruises    &    shattered  neural  pathways  patched  back  together  again.  

but  when  the  square  tips  of  his  fingers  finally  catch  on  the  angle  of  her  jaw  it’s  like  a  spark.    james  tilts  his  head  back,  thumb  daring  to  brush  the  bottom  part  of  her  lip,  so  much  softer  than  anything  in  this  place.    it’s  brief,  as  tentative  as  his  near-touch,  the  static  cling  of  positive  affection  electric  when  their  mouths  brush.    

a  dazed,  half-smile  curves  at  the  edge  of  his  lips.    

IMAGINE DRAGONS EVOLVE SENTENCE STARTERS.

'wanna leave my old life behind.' @roguetm​ 

                 CLINT CAN UNDERSTAND THAT. he’s been running from his old life all these years trying to escape past mistakes that still haunted him to this day. he remembers dreaming of a better life back in those days. he remembers days where he was so close to running away, escaping, but he never took the chance. he kept going until he was caught, and offered a good deal. clint doesn’t know her situation. he doesn’t know what she’s trying to escape, or who, but he’s definitely the person to come to when seeking some sort of redemption. he’d help her, in any way that he could. she wants to get out of whatever situation she’s in so who is he to try and stop her?

                 it was a little exciting seeing someone getting ready to go out and start a new life. he can imagine the anxiety she must be feeling. clint offers her a reassuring smile.

           ❛    i’ve  become   attached   to  the  idea.    ❜