sickofyourbullshxt

[sickofyourbullshxt]

YOU SURELY TREAT ME RIGHT - for christmases celebrated, dreaded, and passed without comment  //  @sickofyourbullshxt

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[sickofyourbullshxt]

avocadefense·:

“hey, a b is great, karen!” foggy sighs. he’s not used to making things up on the fly like this, it’s giving him chest pain. he glances over his shoulder at the residence advisor as she slowly disappears into the stairwell. “i panicked!” he insists again with a frown. “and i just smoked a bowl like, five minutes ago.” his head is already pleasantly fuzzy. “you wanna come join?”

karen laughs in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. if she’d never heard him practice for a mock trial, she wouldn’t believe he could make it as a lawyer. “ alright, alright, you get a pass.” she shakes her head at his offer. “rule number one: don’t get high on your own supply.” not anymore, at least. she has an edible on the rare occasion but steers clear of anything that’s not alcohol nowadays. “but i’ll go with. don’t want my favorite getting expelled and you're hopeless.”

[sickofyourbullshxt]

                ALONE  and  LONELY                 are not the same thing.

                                  — but sometimes,                                   I get CONFUSED                                   about which I am.

[sickofyourbullshxt]

empathicdesign·:

Karen’s call had been unexpected – soothing, almost. Will didn’t want to rely on anyone anymore, but the soft, friendly cadence of her voice had caused part of his self-erected armor to corrode. Even now, as he nursed a whiskey in his living room, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was a goddamn fool. He had changed, but had she? Would she even want to be in his life after what he’d become?

Karen knew about Hannibal (or at least, the surface of the story that Will had allowed), but he had successfully boarded himself up after his divorce and scrape(s) with death. He had never wanted to burden her with his baggage. She had more than enough to deal with when it came to emotional turmoil.

After straightening his house (which mostly boasted a string of empty liquor bottles), he had waited about like a nervous ball of energy. He hadn’t done this in years – he hadn’t socialized or attempted normalcy – and only his ever-present dogs had been there to sate his occasional need for love and affection. This only made him all the more nettled about their pending reunion.

At long last, the gentle sound of rolling tires crunched up his driveway, and his dogs reacted accordingly. Gently hushing them, Will set down his glass of whiskey and straightened his stance. 

“Door unlocked?”

He drew a breath. “Yeah, uh…come on in.” As he headed into the living room, Will briefly caught sight of his reflection and winced. Dark, tired bags pooled beneath his eyes, and his lips seemed to be in a perpetual frown. If Karen didn’t notice, it would be a miracle.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Will rolled his shoulders forward and offered a smile when she entered. It felt forced. Even though his feelings for her most certainly were not, he couldn’t remember smiling – truly smiling – since before his split with Molly.

“Is it everything you were hoping for and more?” Will ribbed, attempting a slight jab at normalcy. “I’m sure you’d much rather the city life, but I prefer seclusion. I, uh…I lived in Baton Rouge for a brief while as a kid, but I wanted something quieter – close to the ocean too.” Chewing his cheek, he finally ducked forward and took hold of Karen’s overnight bag, only to immediately dart back to avoid invading her personal space. A hug seemed too intimate – inappropriate, even. He had never been a tactile person by nature, so he didn’t want to overstep after all these years. Finally, he asked, “How was your trip?”

There was a brief, intense rush of anxiety when Will’s voice filtered through the door, muffled. Would it be uncomfortable? Had he regretted opening his home for an extended period of time? Karen had high doubts that he was any less introverted than when they were younger. Judging by vast emptiness that surrounded the area he lived in, he was even more reclusive now. They had opposite ways of coping with loneliness; Karen put herself among millions and Will chose a handful.

She gingerly opened the door, cooing quietly when she spotted wagging tails. Her eyes shot up to meet Will’s. He looked rough–she’d seen rougher, his face wasn’t swollen and bloodied–but his smile was genuine. There was a sadness buried within it; Karen was sure hers had the same.  Sleeping in the car had left her hair messy and clothes rumpled. She barely got rest from the nightmares–a stiff drink had become a bedtime ritual. The world hadn’t been kind to them.

“I’m sure the trees at night are spooky as all hell, but it’s gorgeous.” Karen enthused. Cautiously, she squeezed his forearm as he took her bag in lieu of a hug. A silent thank you, I’ve missed you, I’m glad we’re both alive. Her worry faded as quickly as it had come. She could smell the whiskey on him and held back asking for a glass, not wanting to seem nosy. “The ocean, huh? We should take a day trip, sure New York’s got nothing on the view.”

“Everyone told me I was crazy for not flying–they were wrong. Clear skies and good traffic most of the way down.“ She closed the door behind her and reached down to pet a dog with each hand. “It’s nice to stretch my legs, though. And see you.”

[sickofyourbullshxt]

“Sono un essere altamente asociale e tremendamente socievole. Ecco perché ascolto tutti, ma parlo con pochi.”

- Charles Bukowski

[sickofyourbullshxt]

“Put your feet on the floor, Karen. Just get to the sink.”

[sickofyourbullshxt]

nodamnstogive‌:

Jessica nodded in silent acknowledgement. When she was wandering down the street sometimes, she would see two parents walking down the street with a daughter and a son that was several years younger. It didn’t matter if what race they belonged or what part of the world they had come from, it always made Jessica’s throat tighten. Sometime, she would look away until the feeling passed away.

“Holidays are the worst, though,” Jessica said. “That’s when it’s easier to fall into the black hole.” She knew about that hole and the things that it can do to her. “I think that’s why Killgrave had such a huge hold over me for so many years. He knew exactly which buttons to push and how it would affect me. He knew that I had longed for a family and he gave me one and I didn’t see how awful it was until I had Thor lightly tap my brain with his hammer.”

She didn’t talk about her family often--she almost exclusively saves those anecdotes for her job--but Jessica seemed to pick up on the glumness that came with the season. Birthdays and anniversaries were easier because for the rest of the world, it was just another day. Once Thanksgiving passed you couldn’t make it five minutes without a reminder. 

“They’re shitty.” Karen agreed, nursing her coffee. “I still like seeing it all, though. Just cause I missed out doesn’t mean everyone else should.” She’d gone to Times Square last week to people watch and check out the decorations. Like every year, she cried when she got home from the bittersweetness. “That’s a psycho for you.” Karen griped, frowning when she head Killgrave’s name. “Nordic Surgery. Who woulda thought. Did that--did it help all at once? Or in waves?”

[sickofyourbullshxt]

punxsher‌:

shadows flicker over her face and he can see her replaying memories in her mind. he doesn’t know for sure what it is she’s seeing, but everything about tonight is beginning to make more sense. his own share of bad memories flash behind his eyes, packed with muzzle flash, the loud report of gunfire, and the stark contrast of dark blood against pale skin. it’s not so difficult to imagine her face in place of others. not so difficult to imagine that she could be gone in a flash, too. 

he realizes too late that his jaw is wound so tight he can feel his pulse in his molars, that his fingers are curled against the counter so hard his knuckles have gone white. a deep breath in and out, and he can’t quite seem to let go of the tension. a thousand questions run circles around each other. who was it? were they caught? were they dead? why the fuck was fisk still walking around to do shit like this? why hadn’t somebody put that son of a bitch in the ground already? why hadn’t he put him in the ground already?

there’s something else in her look he recognizes. something heavy. something that carries guilt and blame. she echoes it immediately. i basically pulled the trigger myself. his stomach clenches hard and he pushes away from the counter, a scoff ripping its way free and a hand waving her away. 

‘ oh, you knock that shit off. ’

karen purses her lips and squeezes her eyes shut. he doesn’t understand--it’s not his fault, she keeps her cards close to her chest--and his unwarranted kindness makes the room go out of focus. she can’t spill her secrets, not about kevin, at least. self-preservation keeps a tight lid on those memories; they only come out with her permission. 

‘ i made a choice, frank. the consequence is people died. i tried to help and-- ’

( ‘ that’s what you always do ’ a familiar voice hisses, stinging her. ) the words are gone in a second and so is her train of thought. she’s back in the car ( which car? ben’s car? the family car? no--no--no--it’s after evans. she’s shaking in the driver’s seat, cold. she’s always cold. she’s always alone. ) she feels sick like something is caught in her throat--karen’s talking before she knows it, trying to clear her airway with words.

‘ you know i called him that night? ’ she shakes her head. ‘ paxton page. he’d, uh, heard ‘bout the shooting on the news already. i just ... didn’t want to go h-home, but, uh-- ’ karen wrinkles her nose, tries to make it easier with a smile. ‘ the timing didn’t quite work for him so i -- i went home. ’ ( back in the car. alone. cold. eyes swollen from crying -- she’s always back in the car. ) 

she sniffs and wipes at her eyes. when had a tear fallen? 

‘ some real shit when even your dad doesn’t care if you’re dead or alive. but i figured it out--we figured it out--fisk is away. that monster isn’t getting out any time soon. ’

[sickofyourbullshxt]

I need you to leave. I don’t want you here, Karen

[sickofyourbullshxt]

 —  not  that  she’d  ever  tell  you  that  ,  anyways  . 

[sickofyourbullshxt]

avocadefense·:

“i panicked!” foggy tosses his hands up, glancing over his shoulder in a manner that is by no means inconspicuous. as the advisor nears, foggy is swallowed into a tight hug. he blinks dumbly for a moment before patting karen’s shoulder gently. “uh - i don’t know. he’s - he’s a piece of shit, how dare he?”

she hides her eye roll by resting her forehead against his shoulder then loudly sobs. “i can’t eat--i can’t sleep--i’ve got an exam tomorrow! i’m barely passing! i have a b!” karen yelps, shifting her gaze toward the nearing authority figure. the young woman refuses to make direct eye contact with her; high strung over achievers can be nightmares. if the resident assistant wanted to bust foggy right there, she’d have to deal with tears, first.

wisely, the woman keeps moving and takes the stairwell at the end of the hallway. karen releases him and drops the act. “dude, you reek, you’re lucky she doesn’t get paid enough to deal with melodramatic bullshit!”

[sickofyourbullshxt]

Charles Bukowski. poetry. The Last Night of the Earth Poems. [11]

[sickofyourbullshxt]

You don’t want to talk to them? Touch them, sleep with them? I do, all the time.

[sickofyourbullshxt]

@tocxmply​ starter

another night, another risk, right? she’s met multiple vigilantes and managed to maintain some form of a relationship with two of them. they’ve both got it in their heads that they’re already dead, so they must be immortal ( which is stupid ) . however...maybe that mindset has rubbed off on her a little.  she takes her mortality less seriously, nowadays. she still carries mace and a gun--she’s not ridiculous--and she knows basic self defense. 

frankly, she’s much more prepared to snoop around a few under policed areas in New York than she was before. karen had been comfortable attempting these stunts before the blip (she hates that name; it trivializes what fellow initial survivors went through) and she couldn’t even disarm someone to save her life. a lot changed in those five years. her heart barely stutters when she notices a car starting to tail her, the headlights off and riding slow. she focuses on what she looks like instead of panicking. 

jeans, and a big black hoodie with the hood up. she turns a sharp corner down an ally that the car can’t follow. karen keeps her strides smooth and confident, turning at random as she alters her appearance. it’s easy, really, she unzips her hoodie and turns it inside out ( the lining is a soft green ) then takes her hair down from the bun. she pulls a baseball cap from her bag and slips it over head. 

karen faintly hears a few voices (” spread out “) so she makes the split decision to join a man sitting against a brick wall. he seems harmless enough, and he’s probably less trouble than whoever is coming. she walks over to the man, movements easy.

“i’m gonna--sit here just for a second. do you mind?” she’s already sliding down the wall and tucking her bag out of view. karen took some valuable pictures tonight that is going to cost some bad people money in court. “i’ll be outta your hair in just a second.” 

[sickofyourbullshxt]

5x5

[sickofyourbullshxt]

@empathicdesign​ // the boys are back in town. mp3 

Karen tapped her fingers along the steering wheel as she drove down a winding road. She wasn’t surprised Will lived in isolation after all these years but she was surprised that he could manage the sticky heat. The swamps had a special charm, though,  nature grew without man’s intervention--man couldn’t conquer the swamp. There’s the fleeting thought of how many bodies these swamps have hidden at the bottom, but it’s gone as soon as the gps alerts an upcoming turn. 

The change in scenery was...Necessary. Swapping looming buildings for trees was a welcomed shift. It reminded her a little of Vermont, but the colors and culture were brighter. There was more passion, more heart--Louisiana had a taste for life. Karen pushed her sunglasses up and onto her face. She should be coming up on his place, soon. Ten minutes. 

Visiting Will was impromptu and planned all at once. She had called him the night of Evan’s memorial, a few drinks in and remembering the past. She thought of calling her father, but she recalled his easy dismissal of her; he hadn’t reached out since that brush with death. ( Karen had nearly died a few more times since then ) So, calling Paxton was out of the question. She contemplated deleting his number.

Instead she looked up an old friend. His number had changed since they last spoke, but it didn’t take long to find it. His voice was a little gruff, but it was Will. The man who cared so much it hurt him. Karen could never understand how he could manage that until the last few years; she knew too well. Ultimately, he offered her a place to stay while she took a break.

Matt and Foggy insisted for her to go when she told them. Leaving with little notice felt wrong ( even though they hardly had clients ) , so they scheduled her vacation to start later that month. Karen had two weeks with Will. Two weeks in the southern sun to bounce back. To get better---to reconnect. Her associates thought it was a great idea and she hadn’t heard from Frank since the hospital so...

There was no reason to say no. She rented an old car from a shady, but legal, business in New York and started driving. It’s a long trip, but she took naps at a few rest stops and stayed caffeinated. Besides, isolation in the car for two days sure beat an apartment. At home she was alone yet surrounded. Out here, it was just her and the car. It settled something in her bones.

By the time she pulled into the beaten driveway in front of his residence, Karen had less of an edge to her movements. She fidgeted less. Exiting the car, she could hear the familiar sound of dogs barking, some with more excitement than alert. A small smile crept onto her lips as she tugged her suitcase from the backseat. She loved dogs. 

Her knuckles rapped against the screen door three times  ( As  if Will couldn’t hear his own dogs and didn’t get her text from thirty minutes ago ) 

“Door unlocked?” She called out.

[sickofyourbullshxt]

         “  you look just like your mother.  ”                                                                          i guess i do carry her tenderness well         “  you both have the same eyes.  ”                                                                          because we are both exhausted         “  and the hands.  ”                                                                          we share the same wilting fingers         “ but that rage.           your mother doesn’t wear that rage.  ”                                                                          you’re right.                                                                          this rage is the one thing                                                                          i get from my father.