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Chris Evans | Late Night with Jimmy Fallon (2012)

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traumatic plot inspo to fuck up your ships 2/?

[supernatural plot] muse a fell in love with muse b who is a vampire/wolf/witch/something ~evil. they can make an exception just this once because muse b is good. but muse b is deep in an ongoing supernatural war and has a lot of enemies who would love to get their hands on muse b’s weakness. there’s danger everywhere for both of them and while trying to survive, muse a has to keep coming to terms with the morals in such a dark world.

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i spend most of my time on @nomadshield but if you’d like to plot with nick feel free to add me on disc.ord!

shields and fishnets#9877

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Is it better to out-monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?

Friedrich Nietzsche, Good and Evil (via books-n-quotes)

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SPAIN. Madrid. 1993.

© Ferdinando Scianna

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dramatisperscnae‌ // remy

“I like a change every now an’ den,” The words come easily, Remy still apparently perfectly relaxed. He’s watching the kid carefully, though, noting the fighting stance, the fist preparing to fly. He needs to choose his words carefully, clearly, to avoid a fight. The kid’s scared. Street kid, maybe, who’s either caught flak for his skill or been outright pursued for it. Remy knows there are organizations who hunt people like them, who want to use them. The kid might be an escapee.

“As a man who’s known t'do a li'l cheatin’ a his own, I’d be a damn hypocrite if I got mad at you f'doin’ it,” he says with what he hopes will be taken as a friendly grin. “I c'n appreciate skill in anyone, ‘specially when it’s done with a bit a style, hein? An’ it’s rare I come across someone like me in back-alley games, t'boot.” A risky statement, but one he’s hoping will offer the kid a bit of reassurance. They’re both mutants; shouldn’t they stick together?

“'Specially one wit’ de kinda skill you showed. So I got curious. Wanted t'talk.” He shrugs, leaning against the alley wall and fighting the urge to slide his hands into his pockets. Best to leave them in clear sight, show the kid he’s not planning anything. “An’ I ain’t gon’ out anyone in public. Kinda thing jus’ ain’t done, non? Neve’ know what kinda people’s listenin’. So I found a place ain’t no one but us gon’ hear it." 

He pushes off the wall and offers his hand, though without taking a step closer. If the distance gets closed it’ll be the kid’s decision. "Name’s Remy. Some folk call me Gambit.”

Ever since his girlfriend ( ex-girlfriend? ) disappeared several years ago, when he was living in Hong Kong, Nick had been more lonely than he wanted to admit.  Before that he’d been used to minimal human interaction.  Gambling here and there.  The occasional mark for some kind of quick petty thieving.  Nothing more than a ten minute conversation would allow.

Coming back home to the states, he’d been stupid to think that he could have a fresh start.  Maybe, just maybe, the people from the Weapon X program weren’t still looking for him.  They’d killed his father over a decade ago.  That had to mean he’d fallen off the radar, right?   Well, Nick wasn’t honestly sure about that particular answer.  But, he did know that the program survived in one way or another.  Whether or not it was called the same thing was information he had yet to ascertain, which accounted for his extreme distrust for the other standing a good foot away.

But, again, he was so damn lonely.  Kira reminded Nick what it felt like to be cared about.  To be cared for.  He missed it more than he wanted to admit.  He missed it enough to risk losing that all over again.

One eyebrow raises as he carefully listens to what he thinks is hidden between the lines.  Slowly, Nick can feel his fingers loosen at his sides.  Muscles released between his shoulder blades and it’s only then that he realizes just how tense his entire body had been.  Was this really just a matter of simple conversation?  No one’s ever wanted that before.  Then again, it’s not exactly like Nick gave people the opportunity to want it.  Hard to do that when he tries to steal from everyone he can.

“Talk?  Just talk?  Sounds fake.”  Still, Nick finds himself hesitantly reaching out to shake the hand offered to him.  “Name’s Nick.  Although, some people just call me Nick.”  The ‘ Gambit ‘ thing felt like a conversation for a later time.  “Are you a representative for some home for wayward orphans?  Because, I gotta say, you’re over a decade too late.”  A shiver runs down his spine so he pulls his hand back to shove both of them in the pockets of his thin hoodie.

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age: 26+

location: plot dependant

children: plot dependant

hobbies: guitar, gambling,

At the age of ten Nick watched his father get shot down by men who stormed the house.  All he’d been told was to run and never look back.  Of course, he did just that.  Nick ran until his legs couldn’t take him a step farther.  Friends of the family tried taking him in but he refused to stay in one place for very long.  He was in and out of classes, homes, and people’s lives in the blink of an eye.

Every night he relieved his father’s murder and every day felt like he was one step farther from discovering the truth.  Eventually, the need to survive overrode his need for answers.  On the street, Nick taught himself how to steal, how to pick pocket.  He acquired a number of skills that allowed him to live under the radar.  As soon as he could, he moved out of the country.  

But, ghosts always catch up with you.

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chris evans in playing it cool (2014) dir. justin reardon

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Klamma

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The point is that when I see a sunset or a waterfall or something, for a split second it’s so great, because for a little bit I’m out of my brain, and it’s got nothing to do with me. I’m not trying to figure it out, you know what I mean? And I wonder if I can somehow find a way to maintain that mind stillness.

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sorry for disappearing!  i’m trying to adjust to new meds and it’s making me sleepy af.  also trying to cut down on drafts over at @nomadshield.  if you want to plot in the mean time feel free to catch me on disc.o!

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thingsforrp‌:

                                  ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ sᴀᴠɪɴɢ