#sclectiveconscience

“Tell me something about you,” he asked. The two of them spent a considerable amount of time with each other, but he felt that things were a little skewed in this matter. “It’s not fair that you know everything about my life.” His life had played out on the world stage; everyone knew what had happened... his schooling, the company, the accident and the aftermath... “Were you always like this? Or were you in an accident too?” He wondered. His own powers had come from a cosmic energy shower; a fluke. It was a miracle that he hadn’t died. The irony, of course, that it had proved Reed’s theory in some way... that they had all evolved to the next step.

is this okay to reblog?

she toys with the key, twisting and twirling it between fingers. she is a showman, showing off for The Prisoner. teasing The Purple Man. "I wasn't sure I believed Doom when he told me he'd captured someone Like Me." her smile is curious & not at all innocent. she may well be a predator and He her prey. "It must kill you not to have the upper hand. To use your gilded tongue and see no reaction." she tosses the key into the air and catches it. "To hear someone as powerful across the room."

down here, in this dark dark dark place kilgrave is akin to adam before the apple, like a child before the shames of society can poison his innocent mind, unaware of his own nakedness. when she comes to him, he is curled in the corner of his cell a threadbare blanket green of course, of course of course it is, and it smells like your piss but you pretend it’s His piss draped poorly over his lean form. he looks up at her, bleary eyes suddenly coming into focus as he takes in the fact that he is seeing a new person  –  another human being  –  something he has not seen in ages. he stands up, the blanket falling down, and while he shivers in the cold he makes no note of his own nudity. the only garments he needs are the confidence that he once had Before Doom, and he slips into it now like a finely tailored suit.

“Well,” he says, crossing the cell to lean forward against the clear door, his forehead leaving a smudge as he presses it against the glass. “Aren’t you a nice, cool drink of water.” he licks his lips, dry and chapped, and he smells like shit but she’s been kind enough so far to say nothing about it. so wrapped up in his own delirium is he that he barely registers her words, and simply laughs them off. “Someone like you? In case you hadn’t noticed-” he gestures to his crotch. “-I’m naked.” he laughs again, but it hurts, and he coughs and coughs and coughs, and a little bit of blood from his mouth spatters onto the glass. suddenly, he’s taken with a rage, but it’s a cold one, and he glares up at his new companion. “Have you been sent to give me a bath? I think Victor is bored with me, He’s left me to sit in my own stink for weeks.”

her eyes are as green as the blanket used to be, the green of the neon acropolis DOOM has built for himself. the catacombs of the Old World lie beneath them and the city rises. schools are built, doctor are taught, and a naked man stands shivering in a glass cage. His nudity does not phase her. HE does not phase her {perhaps it should- He is weakened, but a dead snake’s fangs have more than enough poison to kill} and He does not frighten her. 

“Clothes do not make the man, they hide him.” she carries a bag at her side and draws from it thick fabric, warm and green. a robe. she does not offer it to Him {not yet,} but folds it gently over her arms. “And the lack of them makes it so much harder to lie to us.” silver key is slipped away, pressed and hidden against the warmth of brown skin. though she moves closer, she remains inaccessible, above Him in all but height. 

“On the contrary. Victor is hardly bored by you. But you do absolutely reek and His Grace prefers it when his guests take advantage of his hospitality.” her smile is as clever as it is lovely & she gestures towards the robe. the bots waiting outside the door are blatantly obvious as they await her instruction and order.

give me a word, and I’ll write a headcanon based on it.

3 months had passed since she lost someone she cared for all too much to another, someone who seemed to had disliked how much Theta had looked in appearance, wanted him REMOVED. 3 months that gave her plenty of time to learn more about him, more so of who he was rather than ability wise, a bit of a WEAKNESS on her end. So long to finally found him out & about, strolling like he never did anything wrong, a devil concealed in plain sight among the unknowing. Course, not enough to hide from her - not anymore. 

She doesn’t approach him so publicly - waits for him to near an alley to BUMP him into it like it were an accident, one changed to having purpose when fragile hands gain enough strength to bring him against brick, gaze narrowed in a pinch of remembrance & a high amount of RAGE. 

[[ text -> ]]: I just got on the subway to Lincoln Center[[ text -> ]]: I booked a studio last week [[ text -> ]]: I saw you yesterday. I spent the night at Marie’s

               —— it’s easy to find someone like him ; even if she did not possess a unique and carefully honed KNACK for seeking people out, even when they don’t wish to be found, it wouldn’t have taken long to catch his scent .  .  .  whether that’s because she knows him so thoroughly, or because of his enduring lack of shame, cannot be said with certainty. the FACT is, he’s not exactly discreet. it works both in her favor, and to her disadvantage — if he’d been harder to find she might have rethought her decision. she might have caught herself before seeking to repeat the same mistake she’d made before, but RECKLESSNESS, no matter how much she denied it, has always been her calling card. she can’t help but cling to what KILLS HER most. things, places. people. 

               he stumbles out of a bar with all the grace of a BULL in a china shop, disheveled and so horribly familiar that she can’t help but take pause — a thick swallow moving past the sudden tightness in her throat. ( he really might kill her. she can’t tell whether the thought terrifies or excites her. ) he takes a heavy seat in the alleyway, and she’s silent as ever as she moves through the watery streetlight, coming to a halt maybe a meter away, face half - cast in shadow, but she doubts he’ll need light to recognize her.

i also want to kill kilgrave tbh. i’m not against them killing each other………..