#strikecdr

☠ sleepy starters // @strikecdr

DEEP YAWN, hours of wakefulness pouring into the UNNECESSARY volume as he BREATHES it. following the action gabriel BLINKS, corners of his eyes WET & briefly making the page in hand BLURRY as he returns attention to it & tries to make SENSE of what the report says—

endeavor finds itself PAUSED as jack speaks up, calling for gabriel’s attention - he gives it WILLINGLY.

                                                               “ —nap buddies ?” 

inquiry laced with AMUSEMENT, a brow raising with humor ; lips part in preparation to make some sort of WISECRACK, but after a moment to ASSESS morrison, gabe swallows whatever taunt he’d been planning to make & instead takes a DIFFERENT route—

❝ Strange to be in this room again. ❞ The remark is fairly casual as Soldier taps the leaf of a tall plant with his fingertip, passing it on his way to the bookshelf, but there’s a clear gloominess in his blue eyes. They pass over some titles on the shelf before he stops to pull one out, scanning the back cover absently.

back meets the bed in a GRACELESS DROP--- gabriel makes himself comfortable in jack’s hotel room, noting - with only MILD critique - that the bottle of champagne the front desk supplied for MORRISON is at least TWICE as expensive as what’s sitting in GABE’S room. 

                                            “ they always give you the best digs. ”

an offhanded comment, not bearing any true CENSURE, merely something he’s NOTICED as he stares upwards & finds himself being stared at RIGHT BACK---starfished on the ace-sized mattress, gabe’s met with a ceiling-length MIRROR above him. ...he’s wasting time, when he SHOULD be getting ready for the after-party of yet another dignitary meeting---he’d really rather not GO, but it’s thrown PARTLY in his honor ; another ‘thanks for saving the world’ type deals, & while it IS stalling them from CLEANING it, making friends with INFLUENTIAL DENIZENS is one of the ways they get the funding TO clean it.

shifting some, gabriel props himself up on his elbows, cocking his head til it rests upon risen shoulder ; 

 lena’s struggles are valid. honestly no one else in ow’s universe has any idea what she’s gone through and how it feels, nor can prob relate to her, so it’s perfectly reasonable for to be angsty sometimes imo

Yess !! Like there are aspects of her even today, like the motion sickness thing, that wouldn’t even have occurred to me unless someone had mentioned it? And it probably wouldn’t occur to a lot of the OW characters, because like, Lena chooses to be happy, she chooses to allow the world to see her as this bright, excitable woman, not because she denies the darker sides, but because she lived angry and dark for a long time after the crash, and decided that that wasn’t the way she wanted to live her life?? So instead of allowing the angsty sides of herself show like, say, McCree would (in the drinking and some of the voicelines n all that) Lena works really hard to be this beacon of positivity and light so people around her are reminded what it’s like to be good and pure. 

THE  CONFESSION  ushers  forth  a  new  kind  of  vulnerability.  One  that  seizes  in  the  muscles.  A  cold  wrap,  a  quick  strike  to  the  still  bare  flesh  of  heart.  What  was  warm  mirth  has  now  bled  into  agonizing  guilt.  Heavy.  A  thick  molasses  in  the  throat  --  he  chokes.  Softly,  quietly.  Swallowing  the  knot  in  his  throat.  He’s  hurt.  And  in  that  moment,  he  is  hyper  aware  of  everything.  The  dryness  of  his  own  lips,  the  dying  of  blonde.  Perishing  sunlight --  aging  rose.  One  good  look  at  Jack  and  he  spirals.  He’s  aging.  They  are.

Lost it lmao || not accepting

Lena didn’t cry. She was stronger than that, tougher than that. Military women did not cry, Oxton women did not cry. Today, however, had been different. 

The usually tricks had failed her. Running the track turned into running awya from nightmares of stress and danger. Eating turned into others asking her about the upcoming mission, about her training regime and how she planned to return. ‘Are you scared’ slipped from more than one person’s mouth, to which she always shook her head with a bright smile. 

“Nothing can get me down.” 

But the day now lurked, approaching quickly enough to make her head spin. There wasn’t anyone to worry about–no family, no kids, nobody who would miss her too much, which meant her wariness of what was to come was entirely selfish. Her fear was her burden to shoulder. 

The knock came late, at the commander’s personal quarters. A trembling figure stood on the other side of the door when opened, hunched and barely resisting the tears that pricked at her eyes.