#WARRUED — an independent CONNIE of CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER . mutuals only, inspired by historical sources, headcanon heavy. aided by KITTY.
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#WARRUED — an independent CONNIE of CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER . mutuals only, inspired by historical sources, headcanon heavy. aided by KITTY.
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#WARRUED — an independent CONNIE of CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER . mutuals only, inspired by historical sources, headcanon heavy. aided by KITTY.
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and with that my drafts are done here so unless anyone wants anything new from connie/joanna???? i’ll probably pop back to @yunharlaquin .
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𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒
spice : vanilla and cardamon
weather : early spring, where the weather teeters between the chill and ice and warm sunlight and breezes
primary color : red
magical power : healing
shoe : burnished brown low heeled oxfords
plant : foxglove
weapon : M1911 .45 pistol
school subject : biology
social media : instagram
makeup product : regulation red lipstick
tangible fear : drowning
ice cube shape : chips off an ice block
method of long – distance travel : streamliner train, curled up in a third-class window seat, watching the united states whirl by
art style : female impressionists of the 1800s
historical period : the war of roses
mythological creature : guardian angel
piece of stationary : v-mail forms and a black fountain pen
three emojis : 🍑 🩸 🩺
rom – com archetype : the cool girl/the one who's too "uptight" for her own good
tagged by @stalkvr thankssss tagging in @rubiesintherough for page @threecardtrick @unwcrldly for scott @ofcongress @aspecialprovidence for henry @sviker @dxmence @fifthbornforrester @laikehend @ncxile for hux
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stalkvr:
the damn hippocratic oath was getting on his nerves. he felt more at ease around the nurse raggedy ann and doctor visine than this loathsome straggler. not that he trusted the former with amicable feelings, but they made sense. the entity’s realm was chaos, but even chaos needed equilibrium. violence begat violence. if he wronged them he could expect a severed artery in return.
but the look on this survivor’s face was a painful reminder that humans were sanctimonious creatures.
ghostface flinched as the weight of her jacket dropped on his shoulders. he’d seen a handful just like it photographed in his grandfather’s wartime mementos. the memories burned through his battered leathers and stamped his skin with a molten cold.
he cursed her, cursed her damn oath or whatever specious bullshit she told herself as she eyed his mangled form, and cursed the entity for crossing their paths as his body visibly spasmed. with a maddened chuckle, ghostface caved in on himself, betrayed by the body he swore he had absolute control over.
the ghost didn’t take kindly to acts of kindness. they were an invitation to slip up and ruin all he’d achieved. too many memories wriggled past the mountain of bodies he’d buried them under. the faces of the fools who wanted better for him, the ones who mistook his youthful acts of altruism as something more.
faces stained with veins of gore pursued him through the haze of blood loss. he struggled to keep his head up as he tried to shake away the visions of sightless eyes staring at him from the mantel of his knife. he was trapped. caught like a gutted rat between the hope he betrayed and too friendly of a face.
❝ don’t waste your time playing doctor with me, nurse. death doesn’t last. It’s just a feature. ❞ if he faded, the entity would just stitch his consciousness back into his lifeless limbs. he’d wake up, cold and limb, like a nap in the snow. it’d take a second for his lungs to breathe warm air again and he’d be grateful for his garment’s heat retention.
❝ you’ve seen enough guts and glory. take your jacket before i bleed all over it. there’s no dry cleaning in hell. ❞
NO PITY COLORED her mild gaze as she searched his slumped form for more wounds, hands clasped over her upwards pointed knee. even if he’d been the rare person to desire it, he far from deserved it. she knew too exactly who he was to ever feel that emotion for him, though their paths had never crossed in a trial. the stories of his brutality, his morbid fascination with recording his terrors were often a source of disgusted conversation around the campfire.
but none of that made him beyond her care, clearly to his displeasure.
dark brows arched at his sodden words, awash in what seemed like a thin veil of apathy over depths of almost self loathing. but what she thought and what might be reality could be two entirely different things. still. ❝ you went awfully fast from ‘i might kill you’ to ‘i’m not worth the effort’. ❞ the slightest tinge of amusement colored her tone as she met the shadowed holes that masked his eyes, unable to keep from poking at what she might’ve correctly surmised. no, perhaps he wasn’t worth her time and effort, but never once had that of any sort determined her choices in the field. lips that likely almost matched the life spilling out of him twitched into a smile to match her voice. ❝ but luckily for you, in this condition, playing doctor is absolutely out of the question. ❞ the same soft half flirtation came too easily to her; he was hardly cursing and swinging, and so she slipped into old routine.
those now warm eyes glanced down to where his blood began to tinge the collar’s edge, dampness soaking her knee pressed to the dirt. ❝ too late for that. ❞ but for all her ease, it was still only a facade, a tense nurse too used to caring for the enemy beneath. but that false tranquility was as much her natural state before the wounded as an easy and gentle tone. ❝ but knowing how to get it out is kinda a side effect of my job, no dry cleaners necessary. ❞ there are the evenings sat beside the fire with blood soaked fabric swishing in an icy helmet, rinsing rinsing rinsing until the water than numbed her fingers ran clear as the girls not on duty passed around some bottle of spirits lifted with fluttering lashes from some gi.
yes, she’d seen more than enough guts, both before and here, but would that really stop her from helping him? though it was only a phrase he’d lobbed at her, she still flashed a grimace at his addition of ‘glory’. nothing about war, about this, was ever glorious. ❝ but do you really want to die right now? ❞ now, as if attempting to warm him to her presence by degrees, she risked setting a light hand on the shoulder closest for a heartbeat, hoping even if he reacted with violence, it might... briefly bring some comfort. ❝ ‘cause you don’t have to... even if yes, you’re gonna wake up all black eyed and bushy strapped. ❞ she ached to help him, put the taunting medical kit the entity supplied her with to some good use. to save someone from slipping into the dark and lose something more in the process.
without intending it, her entire expression crumpled, the torment of being near useless to relieve any of the agony circulating here bleeding into grieved eyes. no one, not the survivors, not the killers, not the worst of any of them, deserved this. a quick death, permanent and final, yes, but this endless cycle of pain and brutality? ❝ if you really want to die, i can sit with you, if you want. ❞ there was a glimpse of a past self, the new nurse struggling to hold it together in the face of so much anguish, uncertain. ❝ no one... no one deserves to die alone. ❞
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THE CRY 1.01
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@unwcrldly sent: ❛ talk to me . ❜ Scott to Connie
STARING BLANKLY AT a point somewhere beside his feet, she simply didn’t react, not to his words, not to a touch. it wasn’t the same as her jerking away in flurry of movement, but instead she felt as if she were stuck in a pool of molasses, thick and frigid and sticky against her skin and every limb, weighing her down. somehow, she kept her breathing calm, clinging onto her training as if she were out in the field instead of safely back stateside with someone who cared for her. but didn’t that make sense when for the briefest of moments she thought she might be back in the sandbox again?
several long moments pass before she moves, taking a short step back, hands almost reflexively coming up. not to bat him away, but in a gentle gesture, palms toward him that reflected her strained voice. ❝ i’m fine, scott. i’m fine. ❞ even as the words fell so easily despite the crack in her throat, she knew it was lie, eyelids slipping shut as those hands rose to cover her face with a stuttering sigh. no, she wasn’t fine, but finding words to explain... nothing sounded more exhausting. but she couldn’t leave her last ones unamended. not to him. ❝ i don’t know, i don’t know right now. ❞
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tygerburned:
THE FACT THAT THE MELANCHOLIC WOMAN DIDN’T PLAN ON HAVING COMPANY and would much prefer to indulge in whatever grief was so clearly eating her from the inside wasn’t lost on her, of course. despite having to play into the foolish little blonde stereotype when needed, emma wasn’t actually as daft as she would sometimes allow herself to appear. considering her looks, most people found it charming, but then there were also those who thought it thoroughly aggravating. this woman, emma thought to herself, may have been of the latter. and yet, she gladly took the opportunity to sit down and strike up a simple conversation about nothing in particular to hopefully help the stranger take her mind off any troubles she was having at the moment.
“ i really hope i’m not being a nuisance. ” with a slight shake of her head, her hair a dandelion fluff shimmering in the midday sun, emma soundlessly settled down opposite the woman and took a tiny sip from her cup. her gaze wandering around the table, she stopped, of course, on the lonely bottle of water her inadvertent companion was having. “ you don’t have to juice it, you know, just open it. ” she smiled softly, finally looking up at the stranger in front of her in hopes of getting at least a look of recognition. she had a victorian sort of look about her, the one of lifelong silent despair hidden beneath a tightly laced corset and a dozen layers of silks, linens or, perhaps, self-doubt. her face was pale, almost sickly, her eyes — red with barely-tears, but even so she was very evidently beautiful. the kind of beautiful emma might’ve even called “ her type ” ( whatever that meant ) if it wasn’t for the patently awful timing. “ are you sure you don’t want to try the tea? i might be a bit biased but it’s really good. ”
BROW KNITTING EVER so slightly as her new seatmate chattered on, joanna steadfastly kept her gaze on the edge of the table, memorizing the grooves made by wear into its otherwise perfectly square edge. there’s a fear of meeting the other’s eyes again welling up beneath her lungs, afraid to see that strange mix of comprehension and what she’d thought was pity, or something as awfully close. there was something angelic there, but nothing she could bring herself to recognize as the sort brimming with safety. no, few places held that for her any longer, if any at all. all she could see were the avengers, the ever so slightly worried looks that dissolved into disgust and anger.
but avoiding any sort of communication with the stranger wasn’t possible, not with how persistent she seemed to be. but at least, no matter how much she wished to be left alone in her misery, the woman gave her something to focus on when she was a few short heartbeats from having an emotional breakdown completely in public. someone would film it, someone would recognize her, and the whole cycle of pain she tread would only grow worse. ❝ i... i just wanted to have an excuse to sit here. ❞ a soft admission as her eyes dropped to the plastic bottle almost squeezed between her fingers. she didn’t think she could keep anything down at the moment, stomach roiling in a way so bordering on nauseous that she knew from unfortunate experience what would follow if she consumed anything. somehow she found the strength to tug on her mask enough to crack a half smile that rose no further than her lips, still avoiding the other’s eye. ❝ just needed somewhere to sit for a bit. don’t let me keep you from your tea. ❞
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𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 001: THE OUTSIDE.
𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: constance ‘connie’ rose kincaid
𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑: dark, warm toned brown
𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 / 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑: dark brown, shoulder length and almost always curled so it doesn’t touch her color or rolled up up off her neck and away from her face
𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓: 5′1″
𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄: rich, jewel colors accented with white and earth tones, or vice versa. clean and classic, with a very 1940s look for anything beyond her main verse. it’s practical but incredibly feminine, with military pieces thrown in.
𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: her large, expressive eyes
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 002: THE INSIDE.
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒: loss of what little family she has, of never gaining more, of being trapped, of drowning, of dying with no one beside her
𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄: a big cup of vanilla ice cream with hot fudge
𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐕𝐄: casual cruelty
𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄: to figure out healing from her grief, to maybe reassemble her life and still find someone to live it with
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 003: THOUGHTS.
𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏: getting up and throwing herself through her routine
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓: medical issues and problems, making others comfortable
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐃: sometimes the day ahead, sometimes she slips into memories about bucky. those are sad nights
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐒: she thinks its her problem solving skills
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 004: WHAT’S BETTER ?
𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒: single, though she adores group dates with the right people
𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃: loved, as nothing is better
𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: in people, brains, though she has a deep love for all things beautiful
𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐒: cats, but she loves both
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 005: DO THEY …
𝐋𝐈𝐄: more than she’s ever wanted to, but how do you tell a frightened boy he’s dying?
𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒: if she didn’t, she’d be dead
𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄: with all her heart, as painful as it has been
𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄: yes, but she’ll never have him again
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 006: HAVE THEY EVER …
𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐄: yes, but only for her music recitals
𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐒: no, not without medical reason
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐍: never. she always found somewhere that would accept her as she is
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 007: FAVOURITES.
𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑: reds and pinks
𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋: the chipmunk
𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊: for whom the bell tolls by earnest hemingway
𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄: tag
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 008: AGE.
𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄: august third
𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐄: verse dependent
𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙴𝚁 009: FINISH THE SENTENCE .
𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄: too deeply, or maybe i wouldn’t feel this pain.
𝐈 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋: heavy with the memories i carry.
𝐈 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄: the trauma because no one needs this burden.
𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒: him. just him. no, all of them. but most of all him.
𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇: i could go back, if only for a second, if only for a kiss.
𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑮𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝒀: the best @graysistance
𝑻𝑨GGING: again, take it if you want it!
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behlder:
@owedbcttcr asked: ❝ i won’t be on my own. i’m never on my own. ❞ (joanna)
“ I’M AFRAID I’M NOT EXACTLY THE PERSON you were looking for, miss… ” elias lifted his eyes with an imperceptible flash, a spark of curiousity, when the woman announced her presence in a soft, lost kind of tone. a loving mother turned a merciless killer. though the murder wasn’t committed in cold blood, far from it, there was a certain coldness to her. has it slithered its way into her being from the outside, from the faceless cameras and microphones, from uncaring strangers with their teeth so sharp, always ready to throw accusations and bite her where she couldn’t heal? or was it always in her, from the moment she was born, blooming painfully slowly, meticulously spreading its poisonous vines through every part of her? perhaps both.
he knew right then and there she was perfect. a perfect liar. her face turned into a mask throughout the years, her body — into armour. but beneath the hard protective shell there was a beating heart, warm, gentle, alive, though sore from the spikes surrounding it. and the spikes were those of fear. of being known, revealed, seen in her horrible entirety and truth. she even developed a sort of paranoia about being followed. oh, she was a special little morsel. he couldn’t just give her to john right away, although there might’ve been enough for both of them.
“ but i’m willing to listen, of course. are you here to make a statement? ”
AS THE MAN’S eyes set on her, joanna struggled again the rising urge to back away, to turn and leave and bury herself under the blankets of her bed. as if that ever helped her feel safe anymore. no where felt safe, to the point that she almost associated being alone with it, but even completely isolated from everyone else, it still followed her. it’d not always been this way. once she only needed to pull the covers over her head and curl under their warm embrace with a torch and a book and she’d slip away to safety. then there were friends and warm arms and soft kisses that soothed away any fears in their own ways. but how long had it been since she held any of those close?
instead, every muscle ached with an exhaustion she just couldn’t shake and for the longest time, she simply attributed it to her anxiety and insomnia, the night terrors that beset her even when she managed to fall into sleep. that same sensation that forced out words she barely realized she spoke until they’d escaped, apparently heard by mr. bouchard, or so he was titled by the one that led her here. a death grip of one hand on the opposite wrist until the both smarted under the pressure, she softly nodded, free hand wrapping about the top of a chair with equal force, white knuckles easily on display. her fear thundered in her ears, and yet, as so often she had in the last few years, she felt she had no other choice that remain planted, trembling beneath the mask, in the face of it. ❝ i... i suppose? ❞ no, she really didn’t want to give any sort of statement. that reeked of the hours spent in an uncomfortable chair, a pair of police officers staring at her, first with pity, the second with disgust. ❝ i came... more for some... advice. ❞
@goulds
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𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 001 : THE OUTSIDE .
NAME : joanna lindsay
EYE COLOUR : chocolate brown
HAIR STYLE / COLOUR : straight shoulder blade length dyed blonde hair
HEIGHT : 5′2″ / 1.5m
CLOTHING STYLE : soft fabrics and cool colors: creams and browns and blues and greys, blending into the background of a city on the edge of the highlands. fitted underlayers and loose over, chunky sweaters and thin knitted leggings, skinny trousers. the occasional expression of pure femininity but more likely a more minimalist take on her clothes. if not at work or for going out, it’s a haphazard casualness the flows through all her clothing choices
PHYSICAL FEATURE : fine boned and delicate, with wide, dark, almost deep set eyes that seem to swell with her pain. thick dark brows that compliment her large eyes. a button nose that offsets her medium mouth, perfectly formed full lips, all on a round face.
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 002 : THE INSIDE .
FEARS : that everyone can peer beneath her skin and see exactly who she is, or rather, find the evidence to prove their views of her, that she’s a horrible person, a horrible mother, that the beat of her heart will never be painless again, that the hole will never fill and she’ll be left to wander this world alone, always wrapped in pain.... but to her, that’s all she also deserves
GUILTY PLEASURE : a sweet, scalding cup of mocha cappuccino
AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE : it used to be to form a family where she had none, to raise her child with all the love she could give, to be a good teacher and instill hope and a love for learning. now, she has none... other than to survive the day
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 003 : THOUGHTS .
FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP : her heart clenching in her chest in a vice like it was about to burst, whether from the almost ever present nightmares or the realization that every thing isn’t a dream, that it was real. that everything she ever loved is dead
WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST : straining to remember every detail of her little boy, clinging to every visceral memory in a desperate attempt to keep those clear and not have them fade away or turn into some fuzzy mess. she aches to hold him again, to smell him, to even hear him cry. she’d take his sobs forever if she could just have him back
WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED : just wanting it all to stop, to just not wake up, but never believing she has a right to try to end it all again
WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS : her quick mind and her trust, but now, who knows
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 004 : WHAT’S BETTER ?
SINGLE OR GROUP DATES : single, but groups are fun
TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED : to be loved. she’s always pursued love, not only the romantic but the platonic, filling the void of all her losses with the care of friends and lovers. and even now, as she feels she can never again deserve it, let alone find it, it’s all she ever wants to have again
BEAUTY OR BRAINS : brains. she’d spent too much time on education to not prefer it over anything else. beauty is just the icing on the cake of life, something to look for but never expect to find
DOGS OR CATS : she’s never had a pet, but she thinks she might like a dog
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 005 : DO THEY …
LIE : to herself, to others, the lies fall easily but not without each placing another stab wound in her heart. even twisting the truth to hide reality hurts her, but she’s had to learn to bury it all behind the shield of herself, the mask, the other joanna in an attempt to survive. it doesn’t always work
BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES : she used to think she could do anything she put her mind to, help anyone. but she barely rescued herself and lost everything in the attempt. what is there to believe in?
BELIEVE IN LOVE : despite it all, yes, yes, she does. it’s the most powerful thing in her world, love and anger and hate, the cycle goes on and on without end
WANT SOMEONE : yes, her baby and no one else
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 006 : HAVE THEY EVER …
BEEN ON STAGE : once, a school play as some minor character
DONE DRUGS : yes, a bit of weed in uni and now, well, some of what she takes definitely fits that description... when she takes it
CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN : if she’s had to, but never quite willingly except for who she loves. for them, she’d be almost anything
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 007 : FAVOURITES .
FAVOURITE COLOUR : pink, either the palest of tones or the richest of burgandy
FAVOURITE ANIMAL : lions
FAVOURITE BOOK : dead souls by nikoli gogol
FAVOURITE GAME : snakes and ladders
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 008 : AGE .
DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE : december 12
HOW OLD WILL THEY BE : thirty-five
𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙀𝙍 009 : FINISH THE SENTENCE .
I LOVE : but they’re beyond my reach
I FEEL : until it cracks open my chest
I HIDE : everything i can but it bleeds from my eyes
I MISS : everything about him
I WISH : that the world would stop turning... or that i could get the courage to step off
tagged by : @laikehend ( thank you! ) tagging: whoever wants to!
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behlder:
AND THERE IT WAS, the firm belief in the uniqueness and importance of one’s own suffering so inherent among the ordinary crowd. even with his ability to look into people’s heads richard could never fully grasp the need for this virtually empty bravado, although in her case it was most likely an attempt to conceal her fear and confusion. in any case, he could elucidate to the poor girl that she was gravely mistaken but that would’ve been entirely too boring. perhaps, the sheer pleasure of playing cat and mouse made him an even more insufferable opponent in her eyes but he didn’t care in the slightest.
“ well, i’m a little older than i might appear, miss kincaid, so don’t rush to judge a book by its cover. ” lips slightly curved in a viperous smirk, mendelson looked right through connie as if her physical presence was completely insignificant. she obviously had no clue but he still found her seeming boldness amusing. he knew people better than she could ever comprehend. he knew them to their core, knew their deepest fears and most terrifying secrets, things they didn’t even know themselves. he could live their entire existences in mere seconds, flipping through them as if they were tedious tomes, cherry-picking the moments he considered to be ripe. he wore them like disguises, though, unlike the stranger, he much prefered to leave the carcass breathing and dreaming of being free from the all-seeing eye in the night. or was it not enough for her? did he have to hold some dying blood-soaked soldier in the middle of a battlefield to be considered understanding?
CHOCOLATE EYES NARROWED sharply at his dismissal. she hadn’t ‘judged him by his cover’, but instead by his attitude, his actions up to this point. and he, despite his verbal protest of her reckoning, at the same time, appeared to have no desire to disprove it. the ant under the boot was a feeling she was all too used to growing up, only for bucky and steve to swoop in and...
none of it mattered. neither of them would ever have her back again, and certainly not against this prick.
scarlet lips pressed into a thin line as a rarely released temper smoldered under her skin. ❝ my opinion has nothing to do with your appearance, mr. mendelson. ❞ hardly, unless he simply meant first impressions, but even then, when someone acted as he did, there was little she could do. ❝ you’ve been impossible since i’ve sat down, why i haven’t the faintest, so please, don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing. i highly doubt you’re that oblivious. ❞ her quietly contained, for the moment, fury was far from an act, her anger only fueled by her discomfort with the entire situation, second guessing her decision to come at all, let alone sit in the chair. perhaps the idea that she might get any answers at all for something so seemingly beyond the understandable was as foolish as she’d originally thought it.
❝ so, do you want my account or do you want me to leave? ❞
@goulds
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do i sometimes think about how post-war connie is deeply affected by the loss of both bucky and steve? yup, yup, yup, yup and yup. and then i cry.
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𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑳𝒀 𝑵𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑫𝑬 . ( angst - oriented sentence starters . dark & potentially triggering themes are present . )
❛ no … no , why would you do that ? ❜
❛ fight back . fight back ! ❜
❛ when were you going to tell me ? ❜
❛ don’t fucking touch me . ❜
❛ you promised . you fucking promised . ❜
❛ i never wanted to hurt you . ❜
❛ run . run & don’t stop . ❜
❛ you’re a fucking stereotype . ❜
❛ please don’t go … please don’t go . ❜
❛ i’m putting you out of your misery . ❜
❛ what makes you think i’d listen to a word you say ? ❜
❛ this is what you think love is ?? ❜
❛ i never should’ve trusted you . ❜
❛ i love you . is that what you wanted to hear ? ❜
❛ you’re so fucking pathetic . ❜
❛ nobody can help me . not even you . ❜
❛ don’t act like you know me . ❜
❛ i’ve got my own shit to deal with . ❜
❛ i’m saying my goodbyes . ❜
❛ please don’t go . ❜
❛ i’d rather drop dead . ❜
❛ i loved you , you know ? ❜
❛ talk to me . ❜
❛ what , was i just a charity case ?? ❜
❛ i feel so fucking stupid . ❜
❛ i want to be alone . ❜
❛ that’s low , even for you . ❜
❛ say that again , i fucking dare you . ❜
❛ i can’t … i can’t feel my - ❜
❛ i’m so fucking tired , i just … i can’t . ❜
❛ we’ve missed so much . ❜
❛ what , you’re gonna shoot me ? ❜
❛ you’re nothing . ❜
❛ stop looking at me like that . like i’m broken . ❜
❛ you’ve lost a lot of blood . ❜
❛ don’t shut me out . ❜
❛ it’s not real . it’s not real . ❜
❛ you’re just saying what i want to hear . ❜
❛ i swear , i’ll kill you . ❜
❛ stop … just stop fucking lying . stop . ❜
❛ just tell me what you did . ❜
❛ i already know what you did , i just want to hear it from you . ❜
❛ i needed you to be different . ❜
❛ how long has it been since you’ve eaten ? ❜
❛ put the [ gun / knife ] down . ❜
❛ what do you want from me ? ❜
❛ we’ve lost so much time . ❜
❛ i really fucking hate you , sometimes . ❜
❛ i can’t … i can’t , i can’t do this today . ❜
❛ you know , i never wanted to hurt you . ❜
❛ i shouldn’t have to beg you to love me . ❜
❛ i don’t owe you shit . ❜
❛ don’t say it , don’t fucking say it . ❜
❛ it sounds like you’ve been crying … ❜
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Two Army nurses discuss their patients as they wait for take-off. Manus Is., Admiralty Islands, SW Pacific.
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