#tekhne

❛        i  broke  my  RULES  for  you            ❜

“ Quit staring at me like that.” 

probably not her best option  —  to have issued an order when there are tons of experience backing her up on the fact that operatives,   more often than not,   do not stand down when they’re asked to.   and operatives who were trained to kill ?   well.   let’s just say maria has more than enough men who’d came to retrieve a rogue assassin only to have a kneecap shattered,   or several bones in an arm broken.   but trust her,   that’s when the assassins are usually generous.

fuck.   maria isn’t shaking  —   she isn’t   —   because she knows this isn’t the natasha she knew;   isn’t the natasha she lost.   but they look similar.   maria can recognise a fighting style across universes now,   it seems;   but there’s   -   that glint of wariness too,   that’s obvious in the widow.   the hint of grey when the light catches just right.   the shade of red.   jesus christ,   she bites on her tongue.   what next ?   she’ll rival nicholas sparks in the romance section ?

maria puts away her gun.   her tactical crew  —  save for mona and jin ,  fuck she needs to attend to their wounds soon  —  doesn’t follow suit.   probably a smart move;   probably a stupid one.   depends if she can talk herself out of this,  or   -   jesus,   somehow convince all party involve that this is really happening.   natasha romanoff isn’t dead   —    or,   well,  a multiverse version of her is alive.  would this black widow believe her though ?

then again,  as far as maria knows,   the widow usually isn’t caught unless she lets herself be caught.   maybe the redhead wants an explanation too;   or she’s got her answers,  but wants confirmation.   natasha has always been smart.   maria misses that about her.

‘   ...   i just want answers too.   maybe we can help each other out.    ’

❛        OH  ,  COME  ON  SISTER    ❜    a   growl   ,  low  bellied  ,  angered  ,  fishbones  still  tight  within  her  grasp  as  a  wild  grin  threatens  the  corner  of  her  lips  -  but  when  it  doesn’t  make  way  past  the  scowl  the  feral  expression  echoes  in  her  eyes  .  boots  step  heavily  as  she  makes  way  towards  vi  ,  head  tilted  almost  playfully  ,  a   cat  cornering  the  mouse  ,  and  she  speaks  ,      ❛        this  is  what  you   WANTED   ,  isn’t  it   ?  for  me  to  be  stronger  ?  better   ?  less  of  a   NUISANCE   ?            ❜      she  stops  ,  gaze  flickering  a  moment  as  mylo’s  laughter  shatters  her  psyche  ,  ❛        well   HAPPY  BIRTHDAY  VI  ,  consider  this  an  early  gift  from   me  to   you   !       ❜  

    song of achilles starters // accepting

At first, he considers pretending he hadn't even heard Nina speak.

But as they were standing alone, looking out over the water that might... prove a bit difficult to say the least. He can feel his jaw tensing at the comment, and unbidden his thoughts drift towards his brother, their fate, how it had felt the first few days after he had dragged himself from the harbor and fully realized how alone he felt. It had carved something out of him and left a jagged, bleeding wound that's never quite healed since. They can sympathize with her, though Kaz remains unsure why she is bringing it up with them of all people.

▋ 𝑫𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑺𝑰𝑮𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑮 .  .  .  .  .   ❛  everyone gets theirs wings clipped at some point. ❜     𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈   @tekhne​​​​​​​​ .  .  .  ( a meme somewhere in the abyss )   ┘

The winter wind made forward with claws, urgent in its need to rip but toward what end ?  The tail ends of jacket billowed as a snarl furrowed on the concluding lines of his lips. The wind settled suddenly but no calm dominated the surroundings, instead the eeriness of quick, sharp silence when everything ceased tumbling and screaming from the flogging assault. Lessons fell hard from the likes of Frank Castle. Bullet fragments and shell casings tumbled free from mouth, and Steve was left the unwilling recipient as they fell on his face, on his ears. Either the tides had turned, red and blue, or grave times surrounded the sentinel of liberty. 

It was a swift punch in the gut, and the raw vulnerability bordering on anger was amplified by the vulnerability of his attire. If they had met armor to armor, uniform to uniform, an unspoken wall of unfamiliarity would have kept emotions at ease, yet Steve was present in his civilian clothing, and it was all too intimate. Yes, they knew each other beyond the symbols and weapons, but it was easy to hide behind an identity. Steve had prided himself on being JUST a man, always fighting for a goal, for a dream, but a mere man nonetheless. 

He did not wish to be just a man in front of Castle, a man who so crudely misshapen justice as sick vengeance. Who would have thought Frank as the type to shove an injured man’s face into a heap of shit, at least figuratively. Steve did not mask his disdain; it was almost as if being around a man such as Frank brought out the sour in him who wanted to spit at the ground. He didn’t, of course.