fearfeeling

[fearfeeling]

CURRENTLY MOVED TO @rensovia​ UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

[fearfeeling]

well well well

[fearfeeling]

kinda sorry for disappearing, kinda not sorry bc i don’t owe people on the internet shit to update every bit of my life and how i’m feeling, but things have been busy with work and i’ve been tired from Life in general and have had very little motivation to be on tumblr.  i’ve updated my pinned post, but all my accounts are now perpetually on semi-hiatus mode until further notice.  i’ll come around to write every so often, but only when i actually feel like it (as it should be tbh).  don’t feel like trying to force myself to write; but, i understand that this does affect my partners, so if you no longer feel like following me or wtv, feel free to soft block / unfollow!  i’ll be on discord usually to chat, but sometimes i might forget to respond (i’m so sorry in advance bc sometimes i see a msg, say i’ll reply in a bit, and then forget to entirely; or i wake up at 2am and see it and then come morning i forgot i even had a new msg to look at). anyway hope y’all doin good and keeping safe and remember idgaf when you reply to me (whether it’s rp or dms). out to vibe ✌️

[fearfeeling]

volchietsa​.

her  heart  blushes,   the  light  -  faced  moon  drenches  them  in  a  gentle  glow  and  she  can’t  help  but  think  about  how  beautiful  he  looks  like  this;   when  they’re  alone,   when  his  brows  aren’t  furrowed  in  concentration  and  in  frustration.   for  all  of  her  reputation,   he  treats  her  with  such  delicacy.  and  that  is  most  evident  in  the  way  he  gazes  at  her  through  those  softened  eyes.

a  small  smile.  softly,   gently.   she  aches  to  hear  her  name  come  from  his  lips,  he  speaks  it  in  a  manner  much  kinder  than  others.  maybe  it’s  because  he  knows  her  better  than  others;   knows  every  inch  of  her  body  and  mind.  perhaps  that  should  frighten  her,  and  in  a  way  it  does,  but  just  this  once,  she’ll  dive  head  first.

her  tilted  head,  honeyed  gaze.    ❝    it  does  look  better  on  me.   ��    she  wants  to  elicit  a  smile  from  light   -   hearted  teasing.   she  wants  to  feel  his  warmth.   silently,  she  takes  the  shirt  into  her  hands  and  turns  her  back  to  him.   free  hand  lifts,   sweeping  crimson  locks  from  backside  to  over  her  shoulder  in  one  swift  movement.  ❝    please.❞    

it would be undeniably easy to treat her the way everyone else does, or to assume he knows her the way everyone else does.  it’s better this way, though, when he can look at her without any confusion or fear.  to shower her in affection in ways beyond that’s just physical, to understand the demons in her sleep or the skeletons in her closet.  he understands her better than most, though he seldom boasts about it.  he prefers this, the way they share their moments between them only.

eyes roll at her simple retort, but it does manage to get him to smile.  it’s not often that he does—he’s not usually given a reason to, outside of her.  when he look at nat, he feels a sense of belonging, of hope.  it’s the only love he really knows, the only one he’s clinging onto, even if he could be wrong.

“if you’re expectin’ me to say you’re wrong about that, it isn’t coming.”  frankly, it doesn’t matter what she wears.  he’ll always find her stunning—god, fucking hell, it sounds cheesy and absolutely disgusting; but, he’s a man head over heels, after all.  he fell for her, he fell hard.  it’s easy, the way he’s able to just lift his hand up to carefully nudge the zipper, to pull it down all the way, accompanied by a soft press of his lips against her shoulder.  “did you want anything to drink before bed? water, maybe?”

[fearfeeling]

statesangria​.

𝐍𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘  𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐒  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒,  𝐎𝐑  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒  𝐈𝐓  𝐅𝐎𝐑  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.    and  if  penny’s  being  honest?    this  whole    immortality    thing  has  served  more  as  a    curse    than  a  blessing.    she’s  had  to  watch  every  person  she’s  ever  loved  die,    had  to  keep  her  head  down,    constantly  travelling,    making  sure  to  leave  no  breadcrumbs  behind  for  anybody  to  make  any  connections…    it’s  miserable.

but  something  in  her  gut  tells  her  that  maybe  it    doesn’t    have  to  be  miserable.    maybe  a  friend  wouldn’t  be  the  worst  thing  in  the  world—    and  she  won’t  lie,    connor  reminds  her  a  lot  of  herself  when  she  first  found  out  she  was  immortal.    so  she  doesn’t  reach  for  him  again  when  he  yanks  his  arm  free,    simply  stops  and  reevaluates.    ❝  connor,    listen—  ❞    she  begs,    taking  a  deep  breath  as  she  gathers  her  thoughts.

❝  we’re  not  the  only  ones.    the  rest  of  us?    they’re  like…    some  freaky    cult    or  whatever…    but  they’re  gonna  come  for  you,    too.    and  if  you  wanna  go  your  own  way?    fine,    you  do  that.    i  did  that.    but  it’s  not  easy  and  there  are  steps  you’ve  gotta  take  to  keep  yourself  safe.    for  now,    just    let  me  help  you.  ❞

what is it with people who just don’t want to listen to him?  maybe it’s a curse of his past—— people used to listen to him give orders, and three of them ended up buried six feet under.  as far as he’s concerned, immortality is another curse in its own right.  who actually wants to live forever in a world that’s on fire?  there’s only so much you can do and want in life that even an eternity would be far too much time to grant yourself those things.

it’s not a matter of being miserable for him.  in a way, he prefers to silence and solitude.  they all die alone in the end anyway, so what does it matter?  he just does what he can for other people in the moment, save someone so they have a chance at another day or year.

“right, of course there’s others, or else we’d just be two freaks who’d need some therapy, huh?”  a cult——that’s funny to him, though.  he can’t imagine that for people who live forever there’d be a cult of all things, but he supposes there’s not much he can change about the fact that there are a handful of folks beyond himself that have had to also go through this sickeningly stupid reality.

he sighs.  though she may mean well, he’s not somebody who takes the scraps of assistance out of either pity or empathy.  “what if they come for me?  i tell them to leave me alone, too.  besides, i know how to keep myself safe.  i know how to lay low.  as far as anyone else is concerned, i’m already dead.  doubt it’s any harder than it already is with the kinda job i have.”

[fearfeeling]

CHRIS EVANS as Curtis Everett in Snowpiercer (2013) dir. Bong Joon-Ho

[fearfeeling]

smooch 😘

man, why do you smell like you just killed a buncha werewolves?

[fearfeeling]

CHRIS EVANS GIFTED (2017)

[fearfeeling]

🔪✨ plot with me even though i won’t write on here for another 3 weeks because all i’ll be thinking about is shang-chi

[fearfeeling]

@statesangria​  /  “ what the fuck did you do that for?!” accepting  /  peaky blinders season one.

eyes are as lifeless as one could be for a man who’s been cursed with living  ( surviving ).  it’s a mission and he’s doing what he’s told to do.  he’s done his job, and though he may have been told to prevent as many casualties as possible, there’s also times where it’s virtually impossible.  too many civilians in the way means that there are those who are unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire before he can stop himself from pulling a trigger.

not that this person is any normal civilian for defending a, well, terrible person.

at least they’re not dead, he muses.  he slots the .50 AE desert eagle between his back and the waistline of his pants.  “it wasn’t intentional,”  he responds, accompanied shortly by an annoyed sigh.  “and they’re not gonna die.”  they’re unconscious and the bullet skimmed them just barely, but not dead, and fuck, he’s going to have to write this up in a report later.  why’d this idiot have to try and defend a psychopathic murderer?

[fearfeeling]

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇   𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓  ��𝐀𝐑𝐄   𝐘𝐎𝐔  ?

result  :     the silence of the moon, and all those who pray to it

there is peace among the wreck.  the universe is vast and unending, with so much love hidden in its crevices.  you are the secret in the darkness, waiting to bring a sense of calm to those who find you.  you are selfless, listening with patience, a place of safety despite the chaos.  you are the connection between strangers, all wishing for something better.

tagged  :   @kilfyres tagging  :    the dash

[fearfeeling]

*: ･ﾟ✧   peaky blinders season one episode one.

feel free to change pronouns, wording, etc. as needed!

“ hurry up, or they will kill us all!”

“ where are you going?”

“ they’re doing a magic spell.”

“ he’s mad as hell.”

“ what does a ten-year-old know about hell, eh?”

“ get in here, now!”

“ times are hard.”

“ it helps them believe.”

“ we agreed. i’m taking charge of drumming up new money.”

“ do you have permission from [name] to do that, hm?”

“ what’s got into you?”

“ i think, [name]. that’s what i do.”

“ i think. so that you don’t have to.”

“ you hear me? there’s trouble coming.”

“ all right, shut up now.”

“ who reaps the rewards? is it you?”

“ and what is the reward they offer you for your sacrifices made?”

“ on the house.”

“ cheers, [name]. good health to you.”

“ you don’t bet.”

“ they’re going to get me!”

“ they’re going to kill me!”

“ you’re not an artillery shell, you’re a man.”

“ ah, hell! did i do it again?”

“ you got to stop doing this, man.”

“ try and get all that smoke and mud out of your head, eh?”

“ you have to do something about him.”

“ you’re the law around here now, aren’t you?”

“ maybe you’ll have to put a bullet in my head some day, too.”

“ look at the gun. recognize it?”

“ what the fuck did you do that for?!”

“ i… i must have been drunk.”

“ when are you NOT drunk?”

“ look, i know that it’s hard, but my boot’s harder.”

“ how do you know so bloody much?”

“ why didn’t you tell me?”

“ so this copper is going to leave us alone, right?”

“ we’re not scared of coppers.”

“ if they come for us, we’ll cut them a smile each.”

“ this family does everything open.”

“ i have ten minutes. what do you want?”

“ i’ve always been able to tell when you’re hiding something.”

“ people around here talk.”

“ then you’ll do the right thing?”

“ you have your mother’s common sense, but your father’s devilment.”

“ let’s just walk a bit.”

“ oh, i’m scared of them alright.”

“ i don’t want to be always sneaking about.”

“ i’m here about the job.”

“ are you mad?”

“ do you know about this place?”

“ believe me, i’m doing you a favor.”

“ i’m not asking for a favor, i’m asking for employment.”

“ you are worse than them.”

“ god damn you for soiling your uniform.”

“ i don’t trust any of you until you earn my trust. and that will take some earning.”

“ god help those who stand in our way.”

“ look at me.”

“ your uniform? terrifying i’m sure.”

“ i want you to see this as me introducing myself to you.”

“ the only thing that interests me is the truth.”

“ what do you know about the robbery?”

“ i swear to god, i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ i can tell just by sniffing the air whether or not you’re lying.”

“ i’m not fucking lying, all right? i’m not fucking lying!”

“ i see nothing of interest behind the blood in your eyes.”

“ and no blood in your veins that could carry even a trace of cunning or guile.”

“ on the other hand, we can help each other.”

“ don’t make me laugh, it hurts my face.”

“ i’m not bloody chocking, am i?”

“ you will be when i wrap this cloth around your neck.”

“ he wants us to be his eyes and ears.”

“ what’s wrong with you?”

“ god, the second your balls are empty, it’s back onto politics.”

“ you know what he’s like.”

“ may i say what a great honor it is to meet you.”

“ love the hat, by the way.”

“ so, how are you settling in?”

“ we chose you because you are effective.”

“ if there are bodies to be buried, dig holes, and dig deep.”

“ i changed my mind.”

“ i have an alternative strategy.”

“ have you lost your fucking mind?”

“ that’s right. they’ve shown their hand.”

“ if you want it back, you’ll have to pay. that’s the way of the world.”

“ fortune drops something valuable into your lap, you don’t just dump it.”

“ you’re blood, [name]. i’ve always looked out for you.”

“ you’re going to bring holy hell down on your head.”

“ is it another war you’re looking for?”

“ i am quite shocked at how this people live.”

“ you must not let your personal history cloud your judgement.”

“ i know he’d be very, very proud of you.”

“ to save you from their barbarity, i said i would dispatch you myself.”

“ i died over there anyway.”

“ i left my fucking brains in the mud.”

“ you have any last requests, comrade?”

“ i suppose i ought to pray now.”

“ those fucking guns, they blew god right out of my head.”

“ think about it.”

“ i’m still in shock.”

“ are you sure this isn’t heaven?”

“ if this was heaven, what would i be doing here?”

“ so where are you taking me?”

“ a bad week.”

“ did you do the right thing?”

“ yes. i did the right thing.”

[fearfeeling]

rejectory​.

He cares about anyone on his nine, simple as that. Always will. All that matters is the mission objective and making it back in one piece, in reverse order.

❛Testin’ for the normal kids.❜

Of the comms, that is. Which Mercer will recognize by how Steve taps his own ear.

❛Sometimes they’re harder of hearing.❜

He’s speaking from experience here, not unkindly. He can’t remember what it was like, but he knows the looks by heart. Third time you tell people to repeat themselves if they wouldn’t mind, please sometimes, they start watching you funny. It gets old quicker than that.

So Steve just stopped and nodded along. The back-and-forths in his head were often better than whatever didn’t make it in there from outside of it.

That’s a yes and no to the sleep thing, by the way. His slam doesn’t lose its steam coming up on hour fifty-three, it’s where he’s aiming it that might be off. He’s this close to bunching it into an olive branch for Mercer to take when his other comm crackles.

❛This is Rogers. What do we got?❜

Steve’s eyes dart with the report.

❛Copy that.❜

His tongue pushes into his canine. Gripping the grab handle overhead, he tenses against the gradual sink in altitude like a low-pressure headache knocking to be let in. They’re on the outskirts of the dropzone.

❛Change of plan. Five hostages. Our guy’s armed now, got a back-up of two. Now’s the time to put on that helmet.❜

would be easy for him to say something, but he doesn’t.  he nods, affirmative.  rolls a wrist.  jets like these are nothing like the rickety plane rides and heavy helicopter turns he remembers back in the army.  he wouldn’t be here, if not for SHIELD’s insistence on his potential jail-time.  prey on the vulnerable seems to be a repetitive pattern wherever he goes.

he can hear rogers fine, as the others.  at some point, he says something, a confirmation of some kind, most likely, just to ensure that the others know he’s on comms.

some part of him wishes he could leave the battlefield for once, but he’s not sure even he could stay away for long.  is it just another thing he has in common with the men and women in this jet?  are they all just meant to be disposable soldiers?  connor exhales a quiet sigh, pondering too much at a time where they need to think of very little outside of the dossier.

a hand reaches out, down, picking up the helmet crunched between booted feet.  a dry retort sits on his tongue but does not come out to life.  he straps the helmet on, takes a look at the others before back to cap.  

“civilians?”  that sounds like the right ask.  

not that it matters, because hostages are hostages regardless, but knowing the fragility of the situation can play a role in the plan.  he grips at the handle of his rifle that is hung around his shoulder.  pulls it around and digs into a pocket for a suppressor to slot on, movements familiar as if he’s done it a million times before.

well, he has.

[fearfeeling]

Gifted, dir. Marc Webb // 2017

[fearfeeling]

Chris Evans as Andy Barber in Defending Jacob (2020)

[fearfeeling]

hasn’t been part of the group long, but he already feels like the youngest  ( well, he supposes he kind of is )  being picked on all over again.  except, to a degree, it’s not as bad as his childhood.  a small mercy, if anything, and one to be grateful for.  if only he could be, because, frankly, he’s still not quite dealt with this whole immortality gig in his brain.

he is not hungry, for what it is worth, but he swallows sauce.  “no, it’s...good enough.”  and it is.  he thinks it is, anyway, if his opinion is worth anything in the schemes of nicky’s perfectionist ways in the kitchen.

a moment passes before he realises that, perhaps, ‘enough’ is not enough for nicky.  oh well, he should have considered that before tricking him into taste-testing.

“couldn’t you tell if you tasted it yourself?”

@fearfeeling​:  “I’m not hungry.”

Then they have done their job well, even if that’s not at all what Nicky’s dripping spatula is for.

Perhaps too well; Nile’s cut it out jerks her hand counterclockwise to her head-shaking.  When Connor’s face scrunches in the middle and his mouth goes loose, Nicky sticks it in. It’s very like bamboozling a baby.

He winks at a grinning-back Nile.

❝Hm?❞

Poor Americans. Nicky is only one man. He can’t feasibly teach them about degustation one by one. This sauce doesn’t have that sort of lifespan.

❝More pepper?❞

[fearfeeling]

ironicarus​.

THERE  THEY  STAND  TOGETHER  WITHIN  THE  EYE  OF  THE  STORM.          a  moment  of  quiet  possessed  while  chaos  ensues  everywhere  else.     he  can  feel  his lungs  properly  inflate  with  air  for  the  first  time  in  quite  a  few  minutes.     the  worst  of  it  is  blowing  over,     a  quiet  thanks  is  sent  to  the  heavens  for  stopping  things  from  escalating  too  far.     for  if  there’s  one  thing  tony’s  good  at,     it’s  saying  things  he’ll  soon  regret  in  the  morning  light.     why  is  that  come  nightfall  everything  feels  so  much  more  daunting?     he  wishes  he  could  have  an  evening  where  he  could  watch  the  stars  fondly  once  again.     he  misses  the  feeling  of  wanting  to  dance  among  the  evening  sky,     exploring  the  interest  that  came  with  space  and  all  it  inhabits-     now  it’s  become  one  of  his  biggest  fears.     when  did  his  life  become  so  ironic?

connor’s  speaking,     and  he’s  speaking  so  kindly.     his  hands  are  sliding  up  and  down  his  back,     offering  support,     and  all  tony  can  think  about  is  how  he  doesn’t  deserve  it.     doesn’t  deserve  the  tenderness  his  lover  conjures  for  him.

after  ruining  the  evening,     connor  is  still  worried  about  tony  catching  a  cold.     such  a  simple  admission  has  his  brows  cinching.     the  other  man  presses  a  kiss  atop  his  head,     and  that’s  that.     it’s  over  before  it’s  ever  really  begun.     not  exactly  what  he  had  been  expecting.     typically  when  he  pushes  at  people,     and  picks,     and  picks,     and  picks,     they  fight  back-     but  connor’s  flat  out  refused.          ❝     you  know  if  you  give  me  one  of  your  sweaters  you’re  never  getting  it  back,     right?     ❞          this  feels  better.

broken, desperate words out of anger, sadness, uncertainty.  he knows that come morning, tony might beat himself up for it, the expectation of a fight rather than this.  he is, however, not one in position to blame.  it’s always easier, somehow, to win a fight than accept help.  the world, to him, is much different in comparison to tony’s views.  the whole universe, space and all, is viewed differently.  they are small, a little point in time between the two of them, but is that not what makes it all the more special?  or is he so achingly wrong and viewing things out of desperation and ignorance for the sake of wanting something that is wholly, purely, his?

it’s not a question he’s willing to debate in the moment when all he can think of is how to help tony in low moments.  life, for them, and for tony in particular with the things he’s seen as a superhero, will never be easy.  connor does not expect it to be.  he doesn’t even understand, some days, what tony sees in him.

“yeah.  pretty sure you’ve taken another sweater and sweatpants already.”  he has no qualms with his partner stealing his clothing.  half his wardrobe consists of recommended clothing from tony as is.  connor, on the other hand, just gravitates toward plain hoodies and sweaters and henleys that are either blue, black, or grey.  in terms of his most casual clothing, anyway.  other than that, he’s got a few button-ups and then at least four leather jackets and two overcoats.  “so i really don’t care.  you could take all my clothes, if it really mattered t’you.  i just hope that you won’t.  sometimes.  you’re a bit of a loose cannon when it comes to my stuff, tony.”  it’s all a joke, honestly.